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Night at the
Night at the Museum RP!
Alright, so I really wanted to do a historical roleplay, but I couldn't decide on a timeline. Did I want to do 1920s or medieval? Did I want a Roman one? Why couldn't I make up my mind?
Then I thought, screw it! It's a Night at the Museum RP! We can do ALL THE HISTORICAL GENRES!
By the way, you do not need to have watched Night at the Museum to be in this rp! I will explain any confusion. This isn't ABOUT Night at the Museum, it's just based on it.
The plot: Two night guards have been hired to work in the History Museum for the summer. Neither of them know each other or particularly like each other, but they need this job. That's when things get interesting.
Something in the museum is causing the exhibits to come to life at night. They freeze in the day time, and if they are outside the museum when the sun comes up they turn to dust.
Unfortunately, some of the exhibits in the museum aren't friendly. Some of history's greatest bad guys and conquerors are after whatever powers the museum (because whoever holds the artifact can become a living person, who doesn't turn to dust in the sun).
It's a race against the clock to find the artifact and save the museum!
You can be a well-known historical figure (like Alexander Hamilton), the product of a famous myth or legend (like King Arthur), or a made-up historical character (like a knight or mobster)!
Exhibits:
African Animals (yes, you can be an animal!)
1920's Gangsters/Flappers/stuff
Medieval and Renaissance
Civil War Exhibit
Roman Civilization
Old West Exhibit
Dinosaur/cavemen exhibit (YEAH BOI, YOU CAN BE A DINOSAUR)
Egyptian Exhibit
1940's Exhibit (WWII)
A Victorian Exhibit
Pilgrims/Puritans
An exhibit about the Mongols/Genghis Khan
French Revolution Exhibit
An Exhibit for famous conquerors and villains throughout history (dun dun DUNNN)\
An American Revolution exhibit, with redcoats and patriot soldiers (are you happy now, Hamilfans?)
Only one to three people per exhibit! You can make two characters, but don't make them for the same exhibit. You may suggest another exhibit if I haven't covered your character in one of mine.
Also, every night the museum is basically a free-for-all brawl. So you might want to give your character some kind of weapon.
Name:
Gender:
Exhibit:
Appearance:
Personality:
Backstory (if you're using a real historical figure make sure to look them up and get the details right):
Weapons:
Good or evil or neutral:
My charries:
Name:Jeanne Vivian Crowe (went by "Vivacious Viv" or "Viv")
Gender: Female
Exhibit: 1920's Exhibit
Appearance: Short, curly brown hair, a silver-blue flapper dress, and heterochromatic eyes (one is brown and the other is blue). Wears high heels that she can run surprisingly well in. In her exhibit, during the day, she is holding a champagne glass and chatting it up with a gangster. At night she steals a pinstripe jacket and a tommy gun and raises hell in the brawl that happens in the museum lobby. The 1920's gangsters hate the medieval exhibit, so she's usually fighting them.
Personality: Cunning, sly. Very polite when she has to be, but is actually wild. Loves to wreak havoc. Is a caring person if you get past the violence and slaughter. Has a thick northeastern gangster accent.
Backstory (if you're using a real historical figure make sure to look them up and get the details right): (SHE'S NOT A REAL HISTORICAL FIGURE, THIS IS MADE UP) Jeanne Vivian Crowe, or "Vivacious Viv," was a girl growing up on the wrong side of the tracks in NYC in the 1910s. Kicked out of the house for falling in love with a woman (as being non-straight was taboo at the time), she went to a mob boss she knew and offered to do anything he wanted. He saw her use and hired her to infiltrate the elite. As a small, innocent-looking waif, she infiltrated the hearts of many wealthy men but cared for none of them. She made an empire and name for herself.
Weapons: T O M M Y G U N S
Good or evil or neutral: Neutral-ish. Isn't evil, but is only out for herself (for now).
Other: There's a woman in another exhibit who reminds Viv of a woman she used to love. This has shaken Viv a lot. She secretly wants to meet the woman in the other exhibit.
Hey, if anyone would like to be a woman in the medieval exhibit whom Viv could have a crush on, that'd be great.
submitted by Brookeira
(June 2, 2017 - 9:29 am)
(June 2, 2017 - 9:29 am)
Oh, goody! :) By the way, I am officially switching Nicky to female (though she's still called Nicky, not Annika). Sorry for all the trouble, Admins - I'll ask before I do something like that in future.
~Nicky~
"Alright, everyone! Stand down! Break it up, now!"
The 1920s and the Renaissance have been fighting. Again. And Finn is nowhere to be seen. Again. Somehow Viv and Johnny One-Eye got their hands on some bullets, which they're definitely not supposed to do, so Lord Henry's archers retaliated by setting their arrows on fire, which they're definitely not supposed to do either. At least I think that's what happened, judging by the shattered display case, replica tapestry going up in flames, and guilty-looking wax figures all around the room.
"So whatcha gonna do to us, eh, sugar?" Johnny asks, stepping a bit too close for comfort. His breath smells like plastic and- ugh, I need to tell World War II to quit sneaking him cigars. Viv watches with a smirk.
"This, for starters," I snap, yanking the tommy gun out of his hands. It's heavier than I thought it would be, which very nearly startles me into dropping it.
"Hey!" he roars and tries to jump me, but I'm already running, dashing out the door and dropping the gun in an urn on a pedestal. As he rounds the corner, I cross my arms and put on an angry glare. "Don't even think about it, Jonathan Sinclair," I growl at him. He hates it when people use his full name. "No guns until you and the medieval folks work things out. That goes for you too, Viv and Mikey, so drop 'em."
Reluctantly, Vivacious Viv and Mikey Cotter, Johnny's partners in crime, point their guns at the ground. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that Johnny and Mikey are Viv's partners in crime. If anyone can lead that fractious Roaring Twenties lot, it's her.
"That's better. C'mon. If you want to shoot something up, shoot up the basement ladies' room." The basement ladies' room is something of a running joke. The basement isn't open to the public, only to museum staff, and the ladies' room is in the oldest and crumbliest section; ever since they put in unisex bathrooms down there, exactly no one uses the ladies' room anymore, especially since the museum staff is mostly male. It's a good place to send figures who need to blow off steam.
The three of them attempt to scurry off, but I stop Viv with an outstretched flashlight. "Not you just yet, though. You and Lord Henry still need to apologize to each other, is that clear?"
Viv pouts. "Yes'm. You boys go on ahead. I got your gun, Johnny."
Johnny and Mikey slouch off. As if on cue, Lord Henry, his stepdaughter, and five archers - one still has a flaming arrow - run around the corner. "Oh, bless my soul, thank you, miss!" Henry puffs. "You saved us from-"
"Don't thank me just yet, sir. Put that arrow out, now. Okay, Viv, Henry, I want you both to shake on this: you don't have to like each other, you don't even have to tolerate each other, but you do have to stay out of each other's way. If Twenties wants to use your dining room table as a footrest, you let 'em. If Renaissance wants to hold court proceedings in your warehouse diorama, you let 'em do that too. No more fighting. Capiche?"
Lord Henry grumbles something about honor among thieves, but Viv doesn't respond at all. She's staring at something on Henry's side of the corridor. I can't tell if she's looking at Henry's stepdaughter, the archer who just put out his arrow (wow, he actually listened to me for once), or that old gargoyle over the doorway, but whoever it is, she looks like she's seen a ghost.
************
Guinevere is Henry's stepdaughter. ;)
(June 9, 2017 - 10:32 pm)
Vivian-
"Alright, Cap'n. If you want to hold court in our exhibit, be our guest. But you have no right to complain about the noise."
The Lord Henry grumbles but nods, curt. I smirk at him, lowering into a mock-curtsy as my skirt ruffles around my legs.
A knight whistles. I smile at him, dazzling him, then cock my tommy gun.
"Viv!" Nicky scolds. I roll my eyes and drop it down. The knights sag in relief.
"Well, seeya, Mr. Henry. Michael. George. Aldrick-" I lost the knights by name. I love to see how furious they become.
"-and you miss..." I check the plaque near the exhibit for a female name, "Guinevere."
The girl stiffens and draws herself up, indignant. My heart shudders. She looks just like Carol did, before-
I shake my head and walk off, whistling. My men jeer at the knights, and I would join were I not trying to steal glances at the red-head.
(June 10, 2017 - 12:31 am)
PLEASE POST!
(June 10, 2017 - 4:13 pm)
Grace~
I catch the small fight of 1920s and Renaissance and smile to myself. The old timers. Not like people in this year would think I'm much younger, but from this standpoint I am. But at the same time, I'm a figure not the actually person.
"Grace?" Nicky asks, interrupting my thoughts. "You okay?"
I look up at her abruptly. "Oh, yes. I'm perfectly fine."
I wave and smile at Viv as she walks by. Most of the 1920s people hate me because I'm from the 40s, and I guess that says something about social and time standing. But I've managed to make friends with Viv. (Is that okay, Brookeira?)
"Well okay," Nicky says, turning around. Then with one last look back, she adds, "I'll go check on the others."
I nod and walk back through the exhibits throwing a bone for Spike to fetch and avoid Blue. Really the only other person in my exhibit is Albert, and I've never really made friends with him. He's too arrogant and he needs a haircut. To think he got into the military with that hair makes me shudder.
I nod at Cleopatra politely and avoid her protective guards. I notice Spike still following me, and I laugh while giving him a pat and throwing the bone again.
Maybe I can do some target practice or visit the royalty in the Renaissance today.
(June 10, 2017 - 7:22 pm)
(June 11, 2017 - 12:38 am)
"What am I doin'?" she muttered, picking a single white rose from the African animals exhibit, "just 'cause she looks like Carol doesn't mean she is. I'm such a fool. She might not even like flowers. Look at me, chasing after some prissy cancelled stamp-"
Viv winced. Carol had called her a cancelled stamp, back when they would stand together on the roof of her Chicago apartment and watch the sun make the hills its grave.
Viv shook her head and scowled. She hadn't even been who she was now. She had been weak, and kind, and stupid-
The flower trembled in Viv's hand. She felt the earth quiver a bit. There was a powerful presence standing behind her.
It was that lioness, standing behind her. Viv nodded. They shared some silent understanding before Viv was off, walking towards the medieval and renaissance reubens.
Viv passed a cowboy leaning his gead against the shoulder of a Roman centurion, watching some Vikings shouting at a couple of unamused French Revolutionaries. She sighed. Times were different now. It would be okay to do this for a girl. Right?
Yes. Yes. It would be anonymous.
She quickened her pace past the Civil War exhibit, dodging a bullet and swearing at a Confederate soldier, who really looked like he'd rather be somewhere else. Viv waved to Phoenix (also known as Poe), who smiled back. She ducked between a few tussling soldiers and made her way to him, keeping the flower safe.
"Hey there, Poe-Poe," she said, lighting a cigarette and yelling over the shouts, "how'sit goin'?"
"Could be better, miss," he responded, ducking as a flying wax arm nearly slapped him. A Union Soldier grumbled and reattached it, eyes blazing.
"Understandable," Viv smirked. She allowed her eyes to drift over to the knights and ladies, who were dancing in some big celebration. There she was, that Guinevere girl-
Viv felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Poe looking from her to Guinevere. Viv scowled. "Don't you dare say anything," she said, taking a drag from the cigarette. Poe smiled slightly.
"No need. You take care, Miss Jeanne Vivian."
"Will do." a soldier ran toward Poe only to have a couple of bullets from Vivian's tommy hit his gut. He went down cursing, trying to patch up the holes.
Vivian stopped in front of the Medieval Exhibit and huffed, taking out some paper.
"To Guinevere"
She wrote the note and set it on the ground near the exhibit, praying that the feeling of being watched was in her head.
Man, all this because some gal looked like an old girlfriend of Viv's?
(June 11, 2017 - 3:00 pm)
~Guinevere~
Chatting with Cleopatra and her ladies-in-waiting about hair and boys is not my favorite pastime, but it certainly beats running around with milord and his men trying not to get killed by some dishonorable idiots from five centuries in the future.
My relationship with Cleopatra is...complicated. She's petty, materialistic, and not subtle enough for my tastes, but there's not much of anyone else here who understands me the way she does. Women in court have peculiar problems that she is uniquely equipped to deal with given her past experiences. She's a nice person to talk to if you want to get in someone's good graces, or want a betrothal contracted or broken, or if you just want some fashion advice (though she does like black eye makeup a little too much).
"Well, it's been nice, but I really must be going. Mother's opinion of Sir Edward is up again, so she's set up...not a date exactly, just a 'nice walk through that forest on the third floor.' You wait, though- in a week or two he'll do something dung-brained and she'll be going on tirades against him."
Cleopatra smirks. "Isn't that just how it always goes?"
"Indeed, and it shows no signs of stopping. Good night!"
"Goodnight, Guinevere!"
"Please, just call me Gwen!" I reply as I walk out of Cleopatra's exhibit. I say that every time, but she never listens.
-------
"Why, hello, Gwen, dear. How was your walk with Sir Edward?"
"It was alright, Mother. He's been learning a lot about the height of Rome lately, and we got into a rather lively argument about equestrianism and the relative merits of fox-hunting and dressage."
"Oh, that sounds lovely. Really, I do hope you'll consider-"
"A consideration, nothing more. I'm sure there are eligible young men in other exhibits who could learn our customs in a twinkling."
"Hmph." Mother turns back to her embroidery. "Oh, and by the way, that woman from the Twenties was back here again, though she didn't try to...what's the expression...oh yes, shoot anything up this time. I'm not sure what she was doing, actually. She just stood outside the door for a moment, put something on the ground, and left."
Odd. I would've thought she'd taunt Mother at least.
I walk over to the door to investigate. Sure enough, there's something on the ground, and it's nothing like what I expected: a single white rose, accompanied by a note on that fine, thin paper the modern exhibits use, written in a sharp, elegant hand with not a single inkblot: To Guinevere.
Quickly, before anyone sees, I hide the rose and the note in the handbag tucked discreetly between my skirts.
I walk off, not sure where I'm going, the implications of the gift whirling in my head like a hurricane. It looks like a love token. But women don't give other women love tokens. But it came from the African exhibit, so maybe it was someone down there. But animals definitely don't give love tokens. But maybe it's not a love token at all- simply a peace offering, a gesture of friendship. But it was addressed to me specifically, and I didn't participate in the fighting.
But it was Vivian who put it there, and who knows what she thinks?
Maybe I should ask her. My finely honed social sense tells me this might be a bad idea, since the note was unsigned which suggests she desired anonymity, but something else overrides it, the same mysterious something that thinks Edward has his brains in his sword arm and won't let me call Lord Henry Father.
Which leaves me to wonder: why do I like the idea of paying Vivian a visit so much?
(June 12, 2017 - 11:41 am)
Phoenix -
What's funny (or maybe that's what's not funny, I ain't sure) is that most of the exhibits are born outta violence and still fight anyway. You'd think that we'd've all gotten sick of brutality and battles and blood after history lived through, but no— I guess it's easier to stick with what you understand.
I stroll towards the Dinosaurs exhibit— they're generally more peaceful than people—ducking under the path of a steel ball hurtling through the air. Their characteristic style of makin' damage, shattering bones and whatnot, don't have much use when fired at statues and wax figures, but all the same, ain't nobody wants to get hit in the head with one of those.
Nicky is still trying in vain to suppress the ever-raging tussle between the Twenties and the Renaissance. The de-facto leaders may have resigned for the night but she'll never be able to disassemble the long-held animosity between the rest.
Finn stumbles into the mess and looks around at the chaos in slight bewilderment.
"Finally decided to make an appearance, hm?" Nicky grumbles, pulling an arrow out of its path flying through the air and snapping it, much to the apparent dismay of the Renaissance archer to who it previously belonged.
"I was in the bathroom!" Finn protests. "Oh lord, what happened here?"
"What do you think happened?"
I pass Cleopatra, that Medival gal Viv seems to like staring at, and a few other tittering women perched around one of the fancy tables in the Renaissance display, pretending to sip from empty tea cups. It ain't possible for us to ingest food, but I s'pose they keep it up for the aesthetic.
"G'day, ladies," I say politely, tipping my hat at them, to which I get no response. As expected. I've gone and done this the same since I can remember and not once has my existence been acknowledged. Don't hurt to try.
A Patriot from the Revolutionary exhibit wolf-whistles at them. They ignore him, too.
"H'lo, Poe," Nicky says, sprinting past me towards the usually-calm Puritans exhibit, 'cept when they've gotten in their empty heads the notion of a witch hunt. She's apparently left Finn to deal with the tail end of the latest Twenties/Renaissance conflict, judging from the all-too-colorful indignant yells that he's sending her way.
"Hey," I nod. "Where you headed?"
"Pilgrims," she says.
"'S there a problem?"
"Nah, I just wanted to annoy Finn." She rolls her eyes. "You?"
"Dinosaurs," I shrug. "Arbitrary. Just wanna get away from the fighting."
"Ah, smart. See you around!"
——
Wow, Abi, really helping to advance the plot. (That was sarcasm if you didn't catch it.) I hope I didn't control anyone's characters too much. Would anyone like to ship Poe with any of their characters?
I'm kind of sick so my writing quality isn't as good as usual, haha. Sorry about that!
(June 11, 2017 - 7:35 pm)
Perhaps Grace and Poe could be shipped?!
(June 12, 2017 - 10:44 am)
(June 12, 2017 - 12:26 pm)
Blue~
I smell food.
I awaken and look across at the squabble of Medival people drinking tea. But it's not the tea I want, it's the human. But I remind myself once more that I'm a skeleton with no organs to eat. The only other part of me is man made blue skin.
I glance over at Spike, who's hopping around, wanting to play once he realises I'm up. Is he a puppy or a dinasour.
I turn away and look towards the WWII exhibit. No one is there. Well, they do usually walk around during the night.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and a I turn, bearing my teeth.
Oh. It's Nicky.
She offers me a huge bone, and I glare at her before snatching it with my teeth. She smiles and walks away, and suddenly Spike's in my face.
"Ooh, can I have a bite? Pleeease?"
I roar at him, and he whimpers.
But I end up snapping a bit of it off and throwing it to Spike.
His face lights up and I roll my eyes.
Just another normal night with the same cycle of events I suppose. I look towards my nest, where one egg sits. I've waited every day of my life here for that one egg to hatch, and that's why Nicky feels bad for me and gets me a bone every day. I heard her saying to another once that it'll never hatch-it's man made.
Which is why I hate humans even more.
(June 12, 2017 - 10:55 am)
Albert-
Grace doesn't want to be anywhere near me, but I honestly couldn't care less.
"Watcha doooin?" I say to her as she passes me by.
"Shut your face, smartie."
"Hark who's talking," I say, grabbing one of the teacups from a table and swinging it around my finger. "I would say you're pretty smart yourself."
"Stop with the compliments!" Grace grabs the teacup and throws it, where it shatters against a Puritan's foot. The uptight dunghead mutters something about witchcraft, which doesn't surprise me. Grace stomps off, and I'm left alone.
Never mind. I'm sure Viv is around here somewhere; maybe she'll be up for a game of mumbly-peg.
(June 12, 2017 - 5:09 pm)
~Finn
Sometimes this job sucks.
Ran into Blackbeard on the third floor, escaped via bathroom, said hello to Empress Claudia (that didn't suck), and tumbled right into another fight. Or the remnants of one.
"Finally decided to show up, hm?" Nicky's already got it under control, but she still sounds annoyed, giving me a cold glare. She'd be mad at me just the same if I had showed up. Can't do a single thing right around here.
"I was in the bathroom!" I object. Probably not a very good summary, but she accepts it with another scowl.
"Woah, what happened here?". The room is a total wreck. Curtains on fire, furniture destroyed, exhibits smashed, you name it. But nobody seems to like my perfectly logical question.
"What do you think happened?" Nicky grumbles as she walks away, leaving me the mess to clean up. This job really sucks. I'm pretty sure one of the WWII people smiled at me though (sympathetic maybe?). Or at the person behind me. Just in case, I give her a big grin. Okay, not sympathetic, judging on the glare. If I had a dollar for every dirty look I get...
That reminds me. I turn around to see Nicky sauntering off towards the Puritans.
"Hey! We're you going?!" She keeps walking, but I know that Civil War soldier laughed.
"Seriously," I huff, resignedly picking up a broom, "They could show a bita respect, it's a hard job running this place, what with my co-workers leaving me to do everything...."
I keep up the muttered complaint for a couple minutes till something catches my eye. One of the wild west's cowboys stealing into the dark hallway leading out of the room.
"Hey!" I yell, "That's restricted area, didn't you see the sign?" The figure slowly turns around. It's a girl, expressionless except for her one raised eyebrow. Daring me to stop her.
"Don't notice signs when you can't read 'em, now do you." she drawls, slowly inspecting her gun. Hint hint.
"Oh." I can't really say anything to that. Cowboys, cowgirls, don't know how to read?
"Um, well, now you know. So, just stay away from there." I end pathetically.
She looks at me again, disgust pretty clear. Then she flips her gun into the holster and dissapears behind one of the curtains, now flame-free. I have to hide my sigh of relief, turning again towards the mess that used to be an exhibit. Why didn't I apply to McDonald's first.
(June 12, 2017 - 5:11 pm)
Lucelle~
I settle myself at the end of my exhibit, looking over the museum with a casual eye. It seems to be the usual catastrophe; humans shooting each other up, as usual. As long as they don't come here, I'm perfectly fine with it.
"What's going on out there?"
Another lioness, who we have taken to calling Barbera (what odd names humans think up!), settles down beside me. "The usual drama," I say calmly. "Who is watching the cubs?"
"One of the males, I believe. Why? No harm will come to them here, Lucy."
"These guns the humans use - their projectiles could fly anywhere. I will not allow my son to be hit. And, as long as the dinosaurs are allowed to roam free, I refuse to leave him unsupervised."
"I'd be more worried about the cheetahs, personally."
"The cheetahs are terrified of the humans. I'm quite sure they wouldn't come to this side of the exhibit."
It's true. Our African Animals exhibit - as I have found out it is called - is a very large, vast plain, and most of the animals living there prefer the center of it, out of the way of the troubles of humanity. We - the lions - have found that staying so close to the humans is, in fact, a valuable insurance. Of course, once in a while another creature wanders here, but it is only placing itself on a platter, as the saying goes.
I stand, ready to return to Isaiah, when movement catches my eye. I move closer to the area, hoping for prey, only to find one of the humans - a female. She is certainly no innocent; I have seen her shoot to kill. But she does not seem to be in that mood. She holds a flower in her hands, one the humans have called a rose, and nods to me before walking away. Roses - a form of romantic attachment in human culture. Fascinating. Jeanne (I always think of humans by their given names, though I hear her referred to as "Viv") does not seem the type to send messages of love in such a gentle manner. None of the females from her exhibit are.
Overwhelmed by curiousity, I do the unthinkable: I step out of my exhibit and into the world of humans, a confusing world of language I do not understand. As soon as my paws touch tile, I feel like turning tail and running back to the plains, but instead I take another step; then another. Jeanne is long gone. I wonder who she was sending that rose to?
Now that I'm here, I should look around, even if it's only for study of this strange race. I glance at the faces around me. Who would I be able to communicate with the easiest . . . ?
(June 12, 2017 - 6:57 pm)
St.! How are you? As an aside, will you be writing on the "Ashildr leaned against..." single write anytime soon??
~Nicky~
Every night's got a checklist of things I absolutely have to do, things I should do if I've got the time, and things that have to be cleaned up (there are so many they needed their own separate category). First things first. Get the African exhibit some stuffed animals to hunt up: check. Make sure the Puritans know that the moon landing is not witchcraft: check. Defuse the usual Twenties/Renaissance time bomb: check, I think. Translate for the French Revolution in their ongoing negotiations with the American Revolution: check. Leave some early-reading books in the Wild West as a not-so-subtle hint: check. Fetch poor Blue a bone: check. Dinosaur-proof the elevator, for the third time this month: check. Make sure Finn is making himself useful, which is never a certainty: check.
That leaves things I should do, before it hits three and a half hours to opening and I have to start the nightly repairs. I pick my way through a Romans-versus-medieval knights sparring session to the information desk, where I pick up the phone and dial the number for the lead conservator on site. It goes straight to voicemail, which was the point; at the beep, I say, "Hi, sir, this is Annika Jameson, the night guard. I was wondering if you had any progress updates on that baby tyrannosaur for the dinosaur exhibit. I...have a friend on the morning shift who got asked by no less than four kids yesterday when the egg was going to hatch. I understand if you're busy with other things, but I'd just like to know, so I can...tell my friend. Thanks, bye."
Now that's done, that leaves the matter of Vivacious Viv's odd behavior earlier. I wander over to the 1920's and Viv's usual diorama; it's empty, of course, but her name plaque is still there: JEANNE VIVIAN "VIVACIOUS VIV" CROWE - b. Sep. 23, 1907; d. Oct. 2, 1961 - Crowe grew up in New York City. Kicked out by her family for reasons unknown at the age of 17, she joined a mob based in Queens and went on many undercover missions, infiltrating the ruling elite. Crowe never married, instead taking over the mob upon the death of its boss, David Burgess, in 1938. She led a life of crime until May 1953, when she was arrested and convicted of multiple felonies. She spent the rest of her life in prison, dying of lung cancer at age 54.
Kicked out. Never married. This makes her seem like a weirdly solitary type. The only problem? She's not solitary in the least. So why would her history paint her that way, and does it have anything to do with how she acted earlier?
Come to think of it, she was shooting an awful lot of glances at Lady Guinevere as she left...
Finn dashes into the room, panting, shattering my thoughts. "Mongols," he gasps. "Ladies' room! There's a flood!"
Wonderful. Simply wonderful. I run off toward the stairwell, hot on Finn's heels. Looks like I'm gonna have to start cleanup phase early tonight.
(June 13, 2017 - 7:56 pm)