She ain't movin'. Serenity's not movin'.

Kaylee ,'Out Of Gas'


Sang Sacré

The fictional Buffista City. With a variety of neighborhoods, climates, and an Evil Genius or two, Sang Sacre is where we'd all live if it were real. Jump in -- find a neighborhood, start a parade, become a superhero. It's what you make it.

History. Map.


Connie Neil - Jun 11, 2003 7:18:57 pm PDT #665 of 1100
brillig

Very close


Connie Neil - Jun 11, 2003 7:19:12 pm PDT #666 of 1100
brillig

SLUT!

edit: YES! Number of the Beast in the Sang Sacre thread! That's a good show-closer.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Jun 11, 2003 11:19:09 pm PDT #667 of 1100
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

"You know what you need?"

Edward's voice echoes a little in the tunnel. I peer up at the sky, at least eight metres above me, and reply, "Yes, Edward, I do. I need you to shut up and go and find a rope."

"Okay, okay. Where from?"

"I don't know. There must be a store or something that sells them."

"I'll go and see."

"Don't be long!" but her head has already disappered from the little patch of sunlight over my head. I'm alone, in a dark hole. With my luck, I'll be eaten by rabid hobbits or strangled by the roots of an evil tree in just a few minutes. I'm slightly surprised I'm still alive, actually.


Edward - Jun 11, 2003 11:31:02 pm PDT #668 of 1100
Clovis, where are you? I wanna sack Rome!

I think Am-Chau may have forgotten quite how small I am. I'm not going to be able to do this without some major human-sized.... hello, what's this? A flyer for Aeshma's!

Okay, so time for a new plan. Abandon Am-Chau in her hole; leave dragonabbit to... whatever it likes; go to Aeshma's, buy up proper evil supplies, take over town, and hand it to Clovis on a silver plate.

Shouldn't be too hard. If I can just hitch a lift...


Lady O' Spain - Jun 12, 2003 2:48:51 am PDT #669 of 1100
Red hair and black leather--my favorite color scheme.

Man, but apartments hard to find in this town. I've been trying for weeks to move in.

I got so desperate, I even tried skimming the obituaries page, looking for new vacancies. But that didn't work either. The first landlord I called insisted to me that his tenant was perfectly happy and had no plans to move out anytime soon.

"But, um, didn't he just, you know, die?"

"Why, yes, miss. But we're equal housing opportunity."

Just when I was about to give up and just pitch a tent under the bridge, I finally caught a break. This little place in Tangley Mews calls me up and tells me that an apartment just became available. Which is super-cool, because when I called on Monday, they had insisted that there would be no vacancies for another two months, at least.

As I walk towards the building, I take a moment to gaze around the neighborhood. Cute little shops, lovely old brownstones--I could like it here. The people seem friendly, too; they smile and wave as I stroll past. Except, of course, for the woman who slips into the ally as I approach. She appears to be some sort of wanton lady of the night, clutching a bag of oversized foam numbers to her chest and cackling softly as she skulks down the sidewalk. Well, there's one in every neighborhood, I suppose.

I meet the landlord outside the building. Cute little man--about 5'2", curly grey hair, with an accent of indeterminate origin. We exchange pleasantries, and I casually mention how lucky I feel, not having to wait two months for this place.

The man looks at me askew. "What you mean? You call two months ago."

I smile sweetly. "No, I called on Monday."

"Yes, Monday two months ago."

I just smile and nod. Poor old man, getting a little forgetful in his age.

I walk into the apartment after him--and stop short. "Whoa. I thought this place was listed as furnished!"

"Is furnished, yes."

"No, it's empty." My voice echoes against the barren walls of the living room. I walk over and peek in the bedroom. Nope, nothing.

"Is furnished," the little man insists, waving a hand towards the corner of the living room, where a single hatstand waits forlornly.

"That's a hatstand."

"Yes, hatstand. Is furniture." He peers at me. "You want or not? Cause I got a witch, two demons, and a penguin who are interested."

I look around the room as I try to ignore the pain building at my temples. Well, aside from the furniture issue, it is a nice place. Nice and...roomy. And it's a nice hatstand. Too bad I don't own a hat. Besides? It's the only place available in town. I pull out the checkbook.

After he leaves, I stand alone in the middle of the room and sigh, my voice bouncing from wall to wall. "Looks like I'm going shopping."


Aeshma - Jun 12, 2003 6:09:43 am PDT #670 of 1100

With a burst of flames the newly summoned demon stands before me. Big muscles, cloven feet, goatee, horns, glowing red eyes, all the standard demon stuff. His voice sounds a bit like rocks are getting crushed in his throat.

"What is your bidding master? Have you valiant heros for me to exterminate? Villages to burn? Wizards to dismember? Armies to slaughter?"

"No, " I reply. "I need you to work retail."

"Damn."

"Now help out with that shipment of leather pants, we need to be ready for the grand opening." As the massive demon trudges off I inspect the big display with the new edition of "Evil for Dummies".

My dimwitted minion walks up with a peice of paper. "I have the ad ready sir."

"Read it to me."

"Evil witch needed for dispensing curses in a retail environment. We offer competative wages and an evil working environment. Caldurn provided. Good witches and Wiccians need not apply."

"Fine. Run it." I go off to summon some more imps to help get the store ready.


Penny B. - Jun 12, 2003 9:39:52 am PDT #671 of 1100
Nobody

How fortunate that I've brought my big shopping bag with me today. It's now crammed with garden tools, various flyers, several library books and take-out barbecue for lunch.

Hmmm. I feel like socializing. I consult my map to see on whom I might inflict my presence. Am-Chau's place is nearby. Maybe she'd like to go shopping with me. One of the flyers I picked up was for a place called "Aeshma's". That can't be a coincidence.

I grab two lattes at "The Blackest Bean" and head for Am-Chau's. No one responds to my knock, but I swear I hear scratching. Could be that damned bear.

"Am-Chau?"

No answer.

"Edward?"

Nothing but a faint scratching. I press my ear to the door. There is a voice, kind of. Maybe it's just the radio.

Feh. That would be much too simple an explanation for Blood City.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Jun 12, 2003 9:45:04 am PDT #672 of 1100
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

I sense a presence-- someone's there. //Dagfari? Who is it?//

//It's Penny. She has lattes.//

Time, I think, for the magically enhanced shouting. I trust Edward, but not a lot.

"Peeeennnnnnyyyyyy!!!!"


Holli - Jun 12, 2003 10:11:55 am PDT #673 of 1100
an overblown libretto and a sumptuous score/ could never contain the contradictions I adore

pauses in hacking route through rosebush to front door

"Huh. Was that Am-Chau?"

resumes chainsawing


Penny B. - Jun 12, 2003 12:27:20 pm PDT #674 of 1100
Nobody

Ow! I yank my head from the door. Okay, that was not the radio.

I set my things securely on the porch, then I remember something about the, um, mutable nature of Am-Chau's house. Maybe the coffees would be safer on the ground.

Trying the door only brings more yelling. There is, however, a window half-open.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind a little B and E in a good cause," I mutter.

//Of course not// says a voice in my flipping head. Sometimes this place drives me nuts.

I take a run at the window and manage to get my head and shoulders inside. My backside is hanging out in a most undignified manner. Yanking and wriggling gets me mostly inside and then. . .

Ow. Again.

"Am-Chau?"

"I'm here. Get a rope."