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This is a role-playing journal for the character Susan Sto Helit from the book series, Discworld, currently played in mayfield_rpg.  It is maintained by DL/Wighty.  If there are any general thoughts or criticisms towards the way I handle this character, please feel free to drop a tag in this post.  Anonymous commenting is turned on and comments will be screened.

Alternatively, you may reach me through AIM (DLWriter7) or email (dli17000@yahoo.com). Thanks very much.

General Information (Under Construction)

The following is a listing of Susan's regains after events, her important possessions including those picked up over the course of the plot, and her character relationships with family members and friends. If you are not listed here but would like to be, or if you would like the description of the CR to be changed, please feel free to email me at dli17000@yahoo.com or send me a PM.  Please do not comment in this entry.  Thanks!

Abilities, Possessions, and Character RelationshipsCollapse )

Permissions Post

Permissions for the following abilities:

Voice of CommandCollapse )

Codswallop and tomfoolery

[phone, morning]
If they aren't back by the end of the month, I'll eat my poker.  What trollop. 

And please, if you're wrought with utter despair and you absolutely must subject the rest of us to incessant blather about how wonderful Disappeared Whom and Whom was and how unworthy you are to still exist, etc., ad nauseam, try to space it out evenly so the migraines don't all set in at once.  Write up a schedule if you must.

[action, house]
[Susan, despite herself, is looking positively disgruntled.  Slugger and Luke?  Luke was an impressionable child; she could understand, but she would have expected Slugger not to fall for such a ridiculously contrived scenario.]

And I see we've got more pod-people to deal with now.  Lovely.

[action, town]
[Susan can be found downtown, doing what seems to be.... Christmas shopping?  This is a bit of a surprise.  But if everyone she knows is so self-sacrificing (stupid) as to voluntarily participate in the town's latest load of garbage, she can take the time when they're absent to do something nice for them, she supposes.

...She still looks terribly out of sorts, though.]


[action, Makeout Point]
[She stands alone at the highest point of the peak, where the rock face descends into a sheer, steep cliff.  Her gaze is drawn downwards, towards a sight that only she can see.  Down into the tragedy of her past and the wreckage that had changed her life forever.]

Alright.  I'll humor you.  What do you want me to say?  That he should have saved you?  That's reaching a bit, isn't it?

You know there was nothing that could have been done.  You chose to die.  You practically broke his heart; you know he had something of a mental breakdown afterwards?  But it was the only sensible decision.  Better to accept the natural order of things and go quietly.  We all know how happy Albert is. 

Yes... It was the right choice.  Even if it meant losing what should have been the happiest years of your life.  Even if it meant giving me up.  I do wonder if you'd be pleased to see that I've become exactly what you'd hoped I could avoid.

...Did you want more of a reaction?  You're doing a pitiful job of provocation.  We had our time together.  We had as much time as we were meant to have.  Whoever you're supposed to be...

[And Susan, with a grim expression, draws her Grandfather's sword from its scabbard and turns to face her delusion.]

You're not Mort.

Attack of the Poorly Inspired B Movie

[action, for 308 Miller Street]
[Sometime shortly past noon on Sunday, there is a black-cloaked woman walking through the door.  As in, literally through it.  She's unruffled, though her voice carries a tone of urgency.]

Grandfather?  Grandfather, we need to talk.

[Also she is carrying an extremely sharp sword dripping blood and other messy body substances.]

If you've been bitten and you have the nobility of heart not to chow down on everyone you've ever cared for, I've got a pain-free solution to your troubles.  Call if you're interested.  ...I should say that if I see anyone too cowardly to take my offer, I'm afraid I'll have to volunteer my services without permission.

Try to be sensible.

And if anyone sees a boy with a blue cap wandering about, I'd appreciate it if you led him home.

[action, for CR]
[Particularly for students in her class, wherever they might happen to be, whatever they might happen to be doing, a familiar voice will speak up from behind them.] 

Do you remember what I said that first day about homework being due when it's due?  I've changed my mind.  Your new homework is to survive.

[Otherwise, they will simply be the recipient of a tap on the shoulder.  Ukraine will even be the lucky recipient of a brief throat-clearing before Susan surprises her.]

Welcome Back (Redux)

[backdated to the first day of school]
[Schoolyard rumors spread as quickly as wildfire in the dry fields.  In lunch hours and in recess, students huddled in corners and spoke amongst themselves of... The Teacher.  They said The Teacher was the strictest of disciplinarians, maintaining control of the classroom with an iron ruler and a steely gaze.  They said The Teacher was the harshest of graders, handing out 'F's like so many detention slips.  They even said, in whispers, that The Teacher was a manifestation of Death itself - Sometimes, when The Teacher was in a bad mood..... The room became ice cold, pencils and pens snapped of their own accord, and The Teacher's face... well.... No one ever wanted to see The Look more than twice.

The students who were assigned Death for history class will be pleasantly surprised to discover that the rumors were all false and that Death was a kindly, if somewhat confused, old man with a most enchanting old British accent and a fondness for children.

As for the students who had Death's granddaughter....]

Welcome to English Literature.

As I'm sure most of you are aware, today marks the beginning of the academic school year of nineteen-fifty-fill-in-the-blank.  My name is Susan Sto Helit, and I am responsible for your knowledge of secondary English literature.  As useless as we can all agree the subject is, nonetheless, I expect you to be in this classroom at eleven o'clock sharp, and I expect you to sit in those chairs studiously and attentively.  Though grades are of no value here, I will assign homework, I will test your knowledge of the subject, and you will be held responsible for your education. Being kidnapped is no excuse to degenerate into an uninformed twit. And if you believe otherwise, I'm quite happy to sit you down and bring you around to my point of view.

To stave off some expected protests in advance:

"But, Miss Susan! Everyone else in my world is an illiterate troll!" All the more reason for you not to be.
"But, Miss Susan! The standards of education I'm used to are (higher), (lower), (nonexistent), (only measurable in fourth dimensional units)."   As long as you're in this one, you'll be receiving the education required here.  I don't care if you've never heard of Shakespeare in your life; you'll tell me why Romeo and Juliet were the most foolhardy teeangers ever to be written all the same.
"But, Miss Susan! The town has just (sent us to another dimension), (melted into grape jelly), (turned us into talking vegetables), (eaten all our pie)."  That may well be so, but as long as you have opposable thumbs and a pencil, your homework will be due when it's due.  If you don't have opposable thumbs, an oral report will be sufficient.
"But, Miss Susan! I'm actually (10000 years old), (a magical fairy from Mars), (an alien ninja robot pirate space zombie), (an inanimate object) and I shouldn't have to sit through this." Self-study is encouraged in this case. Bring whatever texts you'd like to read and sit quietly through class.
"But, Miss Susan! You're mean and nasty and I don't like you." The feeling is probably mutual, but I don't waste my time complaining about it.

Now.  You may refer to me as Miss Susan, Miss Sto Helit, or whatever choice nicknames you may come up with, provided that none are ever spoken in earshot.  I look forward to a pleasant school year with you all.

Let's try to get along, shall we?

Hotel Love

[An uncomfortably luxurious bed. ...Sheets made of some ridiculous frilly fabric. A slight breeze upon parts of the body always previously well protected. Susan knows where she is even before she opens her eyes. Perfect memories, after all.

What she is somewhat more dismayed to see is the partner she's sharing the, ah, adventure with this time around.]

No. Get out.

The Discworld is a Matriarchial Society

[to family]

Since I don't think we're expecting any more new arrivals, I suggest we begin establishing some ground rules for us all to follow.  A tight ship is a happy ship.  For those of you less apt to picking up on this sort of thing, that's code for 'assigning chores', but there are other things that might bear discussing.  If we're going to live together, we ought to facilitate each others' needs as best we can.  Family meeting, tonight at 7.

That said, while I appreciate that there's no need to lock anyone in the basement anymore - Edward notwithstanding... would someone mind explaining why we're digging a hole into it from the backyard?

[voice, to people of school age]

While I sincerely understand your desire to forget every piece of information you've picked up in the last nine months, I'm afraid the school has different ideas in mind.  Your summer reading has been assigned.  All books may be found in the library, but you can take your choice between Communism is Evil or American Exceptionalism: Why America is Better for now, both of which I am displeased to report apparently exist.

Happy readings.


[Susan may be found marching down the streets of Mayfield with a large sack over her shoulder.  Her destination is the clothing store, where she will drop the sack outside the door and tags a note on with the words FREE.  PLEASE TAKE.

The sack is filled to the brim with bright pink, yellow, purple, magenta, and other hideous shades of flowery dresses.]

I am a Horrible Person

[Meanwhile, back at the farm.  For housemates.  Possibly accidental public voice, too.  Actually no one even needs to respond to this.]

Has anyone seen the poker?  I can't find it anywhere, but I can't fathom how I might have misplaced it . . .