27 August 2012 @ 11:50 am
ninth : now you're thinking with (magic) portals  
[ Well, with the town going crazy, seems like it would be wise for Warren to test out the magical tunnels he's been setting up since his last regain. He starts in his house, which is conspicuously clear of drones for the moment- don't ask what he does with them, but they've been especially annoying lately. Best to eliminate the problem.

In the middle of his living room, he activated the spell that opens up one end of the portal. He steps through, and ends up in any number of places as he tries them out: ]

[ A : THE PARK ]

[ The relative quiet in this little corner of the park is suddenly disturbed as reality practically tears open, and Warren steps out of the hole he's created. He frowns, turning back to the tear, and references the large book he had under one arm. He sketches a few marks in the air with one hand, watching as they feed into the portal.

That done, he sticks his arm through a couple of times. Apparently satisfied, he waves a hand and the tear closes up as though it was never there in the first place. ]


[ Buying some bread? Baking some bread? Well, don't mind the sudden hole in reality along one wall, and the wizard suddenly stepping through, book tucked under one arm. He studiously ignores whoever might be around for the moment, and inspects his handiwork.

If you look into the tear, you'll see what looks like an ordinary Mayfield living room, just a step away. ]


[ Hello Anders! (And Simba??) Warren is dropping in- through a tear in reality in your living room. He probably scared the crap out of Messere Snugglesworth, though. He doesn't know about the lion yet. ]
Current Mood: accomplished
11 July 2012 @ 10:52 pm
eighth ; never going to another carnival ever  

[ Warren is back! Awake, alive.

Also bleeding.

Yes, while his legs are no longer missing, he has fairly decent lacerations just above his knees, and the flow of blood really seems to not want to stop. He swears, hauling himself gingerly out of bed and towards the bathroom where he bandages himself up. Just as gingerly, he makes his way down to the kitchen, thinks better of it, and heads to the living room.

It seems to have taken its toll on him, because he collapses on the couch and falls back asleep. ]


Please tell me you're around. I've got a problem... make that two problems.


I never did like carnivals all that much- now I suppose I have another reason entirely to hate them.

Did anyone find anything useful in that place? It was-- I almost want to call it a Mayfield prototype. New and small, and malfunctioning badly. I didn't... last long enough to really find anything.

[ A beat ]

I would also like to learn the name of the young man who shot me.
Current Mood: exhausted
13 April 2012 @ 01:28 pm
SEVENTH ; Hawkeward indeed.  

[ When he wakes up in the morning, what first strikes Warren as odd is not the room. This is Mayfield, everything looks the same. It's not the bed. It is, in fact, the rather large dog standing at the edge of the bed. Growling at him.

Now, he doesn't own a dog. He never has, and he's fairly certain no one else in the house does either. Why it's here he doesn't know, but he does know he wants it to go away. He reaches for the gun he keeps on the nightstand, only to realize that first, the gun is gone; and second, that's not his arm. ]

What. The. Fuck.

[ There may not be a gun on the nightstand, but there is a perfectly good set of daggers. He'll grab those and start exploring the house- the dog doesn't seem to want to hurt him, but it doesn't like him either. He's content to ignore it for now. Get ready for the yelling once he finds a mirror. ]


[ Warren likely had himself a good little freakout, but afterwards he started listening. He wasn't the only one to wake up in an unfamiliar body, awkward though it was.

So one will hear the voice of one Marian Hawke over the phones at some point during the day. Sounding rather calm, all things considered. ]

It looks like we have an epidemic on our hands. Does anyone know the cause yet? Or for that matter, a cure?

((ooc; replies will come from [personal profile] myownchampion))
Current Mood: annoyed
13 February 2012 @ 08:22 pm
SIXTH : Kill 'em with kindness : Forward-dated to the 14th  

[ Why are there flowers in the house? Warren just sort of side-eyes them for a bit before concluding that one of the drones must have brought them in. It was Valentine's day, after all. (He swore he was going to kill the drone kids again if he heard them mention how "swell" the girls at school were one more time.)

Still, it's an odd choice of flower. What was that? A Pitcher Plant? At least it's good for catching flies.

Didn't smell to bad either.

Actually it smelled quite sweet.

Oh. ]

[ A short while later, Warren strolls out to fetch the newspaper, whistling a little tune. If he sees you on the street, he waves! He might even ask you how you are! Because he cares now! ]


[ Instead of dodging his responsibilities and bossing the nurses around, Warren can be found on the front lines. He's no doctor, no, but his first aid is nothing to be laughed at. He can be found bandaging injuries, setting broken bones, even running errands if he's asked.

He may be a little singe-minded in his task, though, so please don't mind him if he runs into you. ]


[ Warren's had to run a few errands after work. He can be found in various shops, picking up a few things here and there.

Having trouble getting something off of a tall shelf? He'll gladly help you, and you don't even have to ask. Are you a lady having difficulty buying things (including guns!) from the hardware store? Warren will gladly step in and straighten the clerk out! Just up for a friendly chat? He'll do that too! ]

((ooc; Yes, thanks to the pitcher plant, Warren has gone from only caring about himself to caring about everybody else instead. Enjoy it while it lasts.))
Current Mood: cheerful