NationStates Jolt Archive

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http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=443758

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New Canaan, Cherry Ridge. Tucked away in Northeastern CR, with a tiny population. There is no mayor- just a sheriff and his deputies. A tiny schoolhouse, and farms. The "town" had only a few buildings- couthouse, jail, and sheriffs station, as well as the school, and the post office. There WERE two toher buildings- the local protestant church, very conservative, and a tiny, Catholic Church. The Protestant church was in the town, the Catholic one right outside. One wierd thing about this town; it was one of the extremly few towns with more protestants than Catholics. Now, its up to you to interact with each other.

ooc- In your first post, describe your character a little bit. ALso, when you post, put your character's position and name, then your RP post.

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Catholic Priest, Monsignor Patrick Mc Laughlin-

Monsignor Mc Laughlin walked the church grounds. It was a small, stone church. The main "church"- sanctuary and pews, as well as a smaller chapel. He sighed, as he put Jesus back in the tabernacle. Locking it, he shoved the key in his pocket, and walked out. The rectory, right next door, was a small one. It had 3 bedrooms, but the rest was tiny. He had it all to himself, though, so he ahd enough room. Walking into his office, he sighed, sat down, and peered out the window at the church, and the cemetary behind it. He was 72 years old, but Cardinal De Vito had dispensed him from his resignation and retirement to remain with his parish.

Michael Vladimir Benoc, Teacher

Michael, or Mike, as he prefered to be called was going over the class lists, as well as what the previous teacher had left when he died, just prior to summer holidays.

He brushed back his blue-black hair into the short pony-tail, including a strand that would manage to escape regardless of what he did. It helped enchance his good looks which caused many ladies to develope crushs on him, but it sure got annoying.

He finished his examination, and decided to read, pulling out a pocket-book and propping his feet on his desk, he began reading.

OOC: Tag.

Ian Watkins, Whatever

The brown oval shapped football flew in a tight, perfect spiral. It made a slight snap as it it slid into the hands of the man wearing the black tshirt and jeans, pulling tight into his stomach. The ball quickly spun out from his stomach, and with a flick, it was sailing again back to the hands of the original tosser, Ian Watkins. Dressed in his old West Cannan football jersey and a pair of kahki cargo pants, Ian was the stereotypical image of a bachlor.

He spun the ball on his open palm, then pulled it in, and let it sail again. "Nice one," he said to his college freind. "So whats the deal for today?"

"Meh, whatever. I'm actualy about to head back to Dub see, wanna come?" the other man asked.

"Nah, I gotta stay here, do shit and, ya know, shit."

"Wow, way to be specific."

"Yeah, well, thats life here in shitsville. Whatever happens, happens."

The ball sailed back, and Ian snapped it hard into his own stomach, pulling it in tight.