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Post by The Kingdom of Alban on Apr 1, 2016 20:49:51 GMT -8
 The Open Sea.
If one were to sail south of Gauldin they would find a landmass. It's shores are often covered in a thin mist and its beaches are stony and unwelcoming. This is Alban a land of subtle magics, dark mystery, and powerful tradition. Any ship coming in would see only a handful of options to make port. A small ship may be able to dock at one of the coastal villages. These are small ragged affairs that might be uninhabited. A larger ship would have no choice but to head to Avelius. The only visible city from the sea, resting on a large peninsula.Exit to: The Port of Avelius or The Shore
(Await response from Warlord Ei Halvard unless prior permission has been acquired to skip.)
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Captain Arthur Maddock
Established
Roleplay posts: 36 
Age: 28
Physical Description: Arthur is of roughly average height for a human male at 5'10", with a light but solid build of essentially no body fat at about 160 lbs. His figure, nonetheless, is very striking thanks to his hair (so pale blonde as to look white in almost any light) and eyes (ostensibly a light grey, but appearing silver in many settings). A very quick way to get on the Captain's bad side is to call his face androgynous, pretty, or anything of the sort -- the eccentric pirate has heard it often before, and generally responds violently. Considering his profession, Arthur has incredibly few scars... whether due to prowess in battle or cunningly avoiding it being a matter of some debate outside of his crew.
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Clothes and Equipment: Arthur is almost always clad in one of several identical outfits consisting of his black tricorn hat trimmed in a dark red (and adorned with what the Captain often claims is "a genuine pixie skull, mate"), a lace-up white shirt generally worn unlaced at the top to help him stay cool and because he thinks it looks dashing, black lace-up pants worn laced up and belted with a length of silk cloth because it wouldn't do to have one's pants fall down in a boarding action, very fine black leather boots, and generally a black long coat with a very elaborate, high collar to shield him from both sun and inclement weather. Like many sailors he wears some few ornaments, primarily beads, in his hair -- even the few he wears tend to click together when he turns his head rapidly or in a strong wind. His only jewelry consists of an old silver signet ring bearing caravels on waves and, like almost every member of the Silver Shrike's crew, a simple necklace bearing a ship's wheel charm. Arthur keeps several daggers concealed about his person, like any sensible brigand, and carries his schiavona -- a basket-hilted blade much like a slightly shorter, broader rapier, a weapon of war rather than one for dueling and useful for both cut and thrust -- at all times, including to the head or bed. He has been known to carry a hand-crossbow for the initial stages of a boarding action.
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Player's online availability : Variable. PST.
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 14:16:58 GMT -8
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Post by Captain Arthur Maddock on Apr 16, 2016 19:12:06 GMT -8
The landlubbers had boarded, the cargo had been stowed, and supplies provisioned by the eerily (and quietly) efficient quartermaster. The Silver Shrike was ready to go, and so it was going to. Captain Maddock seemed eager to be off -- though he wasn't saying so, it was because he was actually uncomfortable ashore.
"Haul anchors! Set all sail, lads!" A stomp on the deck seemed to be the signal for the ship to ascend -- who knew how that worked. As the sails were set and anchors drawn aloft to be tied to the bow, Arthur cranked the wheel a bit to the left, bringing the bowsprit quickly around to point in a direction that seemed instinctive to him. In fact it was just a good sense of direction and having done his homework. Once those sails were set, the vessel was proved to be extraordinarily quick...
Very shortly later they were over open ocean, rapidly making way for Alban. Happily, Sir Alverin*Averin had accepted the Captain's invitation to join him up on deck. Arthur stood at the ship's wheel, holding it apparently negligently with one hand. Now he turned to the knight, speaking loudly enough to be clearly heard over the waves below, snapping canvas above, and noisy crew in front (currently they were singing some sea shanty clearly not fit for such an exalted audience -- something about the fishmonger's daughter). "Well, Sir Alvarez, where to first? The capital, or did yer lordship have somethin' else in mind? I know a little fishing village..." Clearly, considering the crew's current song, there were supposed to be lewd implications there. Equally clearly it was said in jest... or was it? Probably it was.
The rest of the camp had not been invited up on deck, but they wouldn't be whipped or anything if they came up anyway. Woe to the landlubber that got in the way of the seamen as they went about their tasks, though -- the bosun had a firm hand and an exceedingly rough tongue. Likely they'd already heard him cursing figurative strips out of one siailor or another's hide. Whatever course Averin decreed, Arthur would be quick to set, seeming not to need to consult any charts unless the destination was exceedingly obscure.
Eirwynn Rodrick King Averin Arach Eliza Opal Sir Cairex Forgepyre Silas Rognar Hammerborn Damtion Chance Alastair Gwenneth Barclay
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Eirwynn Rodrick
Established
Roleplay posts: 40 
Age: 28
Physical Description: Of average height for a human, Eirwynn is 5'5" and curvaceous, with slightly-tanned skin and a sturdy bone structure. She has dark brown hair that falls to just past her shoulders, and hazel eyes that have often been described as 'mercurial', as their exact coloring shifts between varying shades of brown, gold, and green depending upon her mood. Her face is attractive, if not beautiful in an eye-catching way, and she has often been described as 'cute' - which is a surefire way to end up with a sword pointed at your face. She has a smattering of scars across her body, including one across the right side of her face that bisects her eyebrow and continues down below her eye, but that's likely to be expected, given her chosen career.
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Clothes and Equipment: Her chosen attire generally consists of a pair of tight-fitting brown breeches, paired with a low-cut white shirt with slightly-loose sleeves, and a pair of low-heeled brown leather boots that come to a stop just shy of her knees. This is occasionally accessorized with any of a number of underbust corsets in varying colors, and/or a long brown coat that she often wears open. Typical accessories consist of a two brown leather belts - one wide, which seems to be purely for ornamental purposes (aside from holding her sword's scabbard), and a thinner one which carries a few pouches that hold various items (compass, coins, and a few heinous powders, mostly) - a red sash tied around her hips, and a number of charms and beads strung throughout her hair. She has two necklaces that she never takes off, one bearing a ship's wheel charm, and the other bearing a trio of roughly-cut semi-precious stones in black, blue, and white. She has a schiavona which never leaves her side, even when she's sleeping. What is perhaps her most distinctive possession is an oddly-shaped wood-and-metal club that she wears at her hip; despite its appearance, the item is in fact a weapon, and a projectile one at that, which she fondly refers to as her 'Thumper', given the noise the projectile bludgeoning instrument makes when it impacts its intended target - usually someone's skull. Enchanted by one of the rare wizards (who happens to be a close family friend) of Alban, the instrument is bespelled to return to her hand once thrown. It's her favored method of disciplining crew members, and they've all learned to fear the odd weapon, especially when it begins to emanate smoke as a sign of its owner's annoyance.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 10:59:40 GMT -8
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Post by Eirwynn Rodrick on Apr 16, 2016 19:17:28 GMT -8
Averin was there, but Eirwynn was at Arthur's right hand - as always, easily within reach for anything he should need. She stood with feet braced apart and arms crossed, her preferred stance, with dark eyes fixed on the sea and sky ahead of them. At least, until Arthur butchered their patron's name. Then those hues rolled upward, and she turned her head to look at the Captain, speaking with that same moderately exasperated tone. "It's Sir Averin, Cap'n."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Eirwynn unfolded her right arm and raised her right hand, dropping her face into the upturned palm. Why did she even bother? She knew what he was going to say next. It was the same thing. Every time.
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Captain Arthur Maddock
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 28
Physical Description: Arthur is of roughly average height for a human male at 5'10", with a light but solid build of essentially no body fat at about 160 lbs. His figure, nonetheless, is very striking thanks to his hair (so pale blonde as to look white in almost any light) and eyes (ostensibly a light grey, but appearing silver in many settings). A very quick way to get on the Captain's bad side is to call his face androgynous, pretty, or anything of the sort -- the eccentric pirate has heard it often before, and generally responds violently. Considering his profession, Arthur has incredibly few scars... whether due to prowess in battle or cunningly avoiding it being a matter of some debate outside of his crew.
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Clothes and Equipment: Arthur is almost always clad in one of several identical outfits consisting of his black tricorn hat trimmed in a dark red (and adorned with what the Captain often claims is "a genuine pixie skull, mate"), a lace-up white shirt generally worn unlaced at the top to help him stay cool and because he thinks it looks dashing, black lace-up pants worn laced up and belted with a length of silk cloth because it wouldn't do to have one's pants fall down in a boarding action, very fine black leather boots, and generally a black long coat with a very elaborate, high collar to shield him from both sun and inclement weather. Like many sailors he wears some few ornaments, primarily beads, in his hair -- even the few he wears tend to click together when he turns his head rapidly or in a strong wind. His only jewelry consists of an old silver signet ring bearing caravels on waves and, like almost every member of the Silver Shrike's crew, a simple necklace bearing a ship's wheel charm. Arthur keeps several daggers concealed about his person, like any sensible brigand, and carries his schiavona -- a basket-hilted blade much like a slightly shorter, broader rapier, a weapon of war rather than one for dueling and useful for both cut and thrust -- at all times, including to the head or bed. He has been known to carry a hand-crossbow for the initial stages of a boarding action.
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Player's online availability : Variable. PST.
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 14:16:58 GMT -8
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Post by Captain Arthur Maddock on Apr 16, 2016 19:18:28 GMT -8
"Aye, Averin. That's what I said, 'wynn." Arthur took this correction in stride, seemingly fully confident that he had in fact gotten the name right.
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King Averin Arach
Dedicated
Working on the whole king thing
Roleplay posts: 284
Age: 21
Physical Description: Averin is a tall man, standing at six foot two. He has a build equal parts lithe and powerful. Broad shouldered, well muscled, but possessed of an undeniable grace. He reminds many of a tiger. He moves with a slow, languid, precision, that gives him undeniable aura of deadly skill.
Averin is a handsome man. With a square cut jaw, straight nose, and prominent cheek bones. His brown eyes are dark and alluring. Sometimes they sparkle with kindness, other times gleaming with baleful intent. His habitual expression is a half smile.
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Clothes and Equipment: Averin prefers to wear his silver steel half plate. One pauldron stylize to look like a hawks head. Combined with his large red cloak, he has a very distinctive look. His preferred weapon is a bastard sword. His blade is an oddity. The hilt is worn and weathered, and seems to be ancient. The blade though looks freshly forged. The shining metal gleams brightly in light, and it's edge razor sharp. Both his armor and sword posses some degree of magic, though exactly how much is known only to him.
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Registered: Mar 21, 2016 6:59:05 GMT -8
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Post by King Averin Arach on Apr 16, 2016 19:55:15 GMT -8
The trip had been uneventful for the most part, which was good. Averin suspected that what was to come would provide enough excitement. He barely even registers it when Arthur mispronounces his name. At first it had annoyed Averin. As it persisted he became certain that Arthur did it for one of two reasons. The first was as a deliberate move to annoy people and keep them off balance. The other was because the eccentric captain genuinely forgot. Either way Averin decided it was best not to let it bother him.
The once and future king weighs Arthurs question. How was he going to start? He had been thinking about this long and hard. He had made his decision it was time to address the troops. He gestures to Caleb indicating the duty master should gather the newbies and squad leaders on deck. The squad leaders to get their orders, the newbies to hear what was actually happening. Turning to Arthur he says voice firmed with resolve.
"Avelius briefly. We will be dropping off the two scouting parties. Then I need you to take me across the river to Sword. No sense in waiting."
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Alastair
Established
Fleeing Goraia, with refugees in tow!
Roleplay posts: 17
Age: 30
Physical Description: Alastair is a fit man standing 6'0 and weighing 190 lbs. He's lean for his size, but he's a strong fellow and well-conditioned for combat. He has sun-kissed skin from being outdoors so often, dark brown eyes, and short, dark brown hair.
Clothes and Equipment: Alastair wears practical chainmail armor, iron shinguards and iron gauntlets. He also wears heavy-duty traveling boots, gloves, and an iron open-faced helmet.
For his weapon, Alastair carries an iron longsword and a beat-up heater shield.
Needless to say, all of his equipment is in dire need of being replaced.
Registered: Mar 17, 2016 13:28:54 GMT -8
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Post by Alastair on Apr 17, 2016 8:49:13 GMT -8
Alastair had mostly spent the ride not looking down - or rather, trying his best to stay calm while they glided through the air. In a way, it frightened him! What if some dragon had come up and incinerated the flying machine! Or a ballistae was shot at them and the thign malfunctioned! He was stuck up here, and he could do nothing if something bad was to happen. At least on a boat you can jump in the water and swim away if something bad happened. Alastair found out very quickly that he did not like flying.
"*gulp* Sir Averin," Alastair cautiously walked up to where Drake was. "How... how much longer do you think!?"
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Sir Cairex Forgepyre
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 274
Age: 23
Physical Description: Wolf - stature of a large grey wolf, mottled patches of darker grey and black mingle in with a lighter grey coat. A single black patch of fur surrounds the blue eye, while the brown eye is surrounded by the light grey color. Teeth are sharp and well maintained, just like his claws.
Hybrid - His most common form, his coloring perfectly matches the wolf form. This form stands around 7ft tall, weighs nearly 330 lbs, with a fairly long tail.
Human- only used when interacting amongst civilized society, he is tall for a human, around 6'3" and about 210lbs. His long hair matches the grey and black coloring of his wolf fur, and the only distinguishing feature is his canine eyes and elongated canines.
Clothes and Equipment: Clothing - Cairex now wears a custom suit of armor, enchanted so that it will resize as he does, providing his already formidable wolf forms with substantial armor that is lightweight but strong, akin to mithril in both strength and weight.
Equipment - A good sized bastard sword and a small dagger are his only weapons, plus teeth and claws.
Player's online availability : Weekends/Nights
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 8:02:28 GMT -8
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Post by Sir Cairex Forgepyre on Apr 17, 2016 9:33:33 GMT -8
The air up here was cold, and the wolf did not at all like the high elevation...or flying in general. He preferred his paws on the ground, and he had done his best to stay belowdecks thus far in the trip. Even in his true form, he could feel the cold wind across his pelt, he could only imagine how cold the humans felt up here, without any fur to protect them. He gave no sign of his discomfort though, and could admit to enjoying this more than flying on the back of the dragon. Here at least, he had some semblance of control as to where he stood. He kept quiet though, looking around easily over the heads of everyone, minus whatever was in the suit of armor, Cairex was only a little taller than whomever was in there. He awaited the reason for being called up.
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Damtion
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: ???
Physical Description: The appearance of this being beneath his armor is unknown. The only aspect of his actual body that can be identified is his height. Damtion stands at eight feet tall.
Clothes and Equipment: Damtion is always encased in full plate armor from head to toe. No matter the brightness of his surroundings, light never penetrates the darkness behind the metal mask of his great-helm. He carries with him at all times a great sword, inscribed with unknown and ancient runes along it's entire blade, predating any known histories.
Registered: Apr 2, 2016 21:37:21 GMT -8
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Post by Damtion on Apr 17, 2016 10:20:58 GMT -8
The form beneath the armor of Damtion had thus far not been revealed during the entire trip. Unless addressed, the armored man had stood a silent vigil below decks, great-sword resting on it's tip in front of him as he held it up in a neutral position. After a couple of days standing so, even through the night, some of the crewmen would mistake the armored form as nothing but a statue, while those of Ser Averin's mercenaries would only stare at the monolithic form with mixed feelings of worry, or perhaps dread.
None seemed to approach Damtion's form unless needed, and neither did he move unless needed, not even to eat. While Cairex paced nervously waiting for something to happen, the emotionless face plate of Damtion would remain ever calm as with the rest of his form.
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Eliza Opal
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Age: 21
Physical Description: Eliza is tall and stately, with an impeccable air of grace and elegance about her. She has short but well-styled brown hair and a rather average figure.
Clothes and Equipment: Being a noble, Eliza wears only the finest of clothing. She usually wears high-quality riding or outdoors wear, but is just as comfortable in fancy dresses and other formal clothes.
Registered: Apr 2, 2016 9:36:45 GMT -8
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Post by Eliza Opal on Apr 17, 2016 10:55:56 GMT -8
Eliza stands on the deck, staring over the side in wonder. She always did love flying, and relished the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair. It was almost as much of a thrill as being on-stage in front of a huge crowd right in the middle of an aria. She enjoyed listening to the crew's songs, even if it wasn't quite as...refined as what she was used to. She leans over the rail, enjoying the salty breeze, before a large bird swoops down and smacks her in the face.
"Ackpth!"
The opera singer stumbles backwards, and the bird flies away.
"What is that thing? It's huge! Is that an inland albatross?"
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Gwenneth Barclay
Committed
Roleplay posts: 83
Age: 19
Physical Description: Standing at a height of five feet and three inches tall, Gwenneth Barclay is an absolutely stunning woman, which goes without saying for most who meet her. She has long sable hair that cascades down her back, well taken care of and silky almost all the time. Her skin is pale, yet ethereally beautiful rather than lifeless, soft and smooth as velvet. Curiously, this applies even to her hands, despite her farmer upbringing, a passing oddity among many for her. She has a kindly, elegantly-structured face, with lovely, full lips constantly graced by a friendly smile, enhanced by strangely heterochromic, yet strikingly beautiful and lively icy blue and hazel eyes. Her figure is slim, yet elegant and curvaceous enough to draw the male -- or occasionally female -- eye. The only blemish upon her entire apparently perfect body is an earthy red tribal tattoo upon her left shoulder, the twisting lines possessing a meaning none but her know.
Clothes and Equipment: =========================================
Gwenneth wears robes of an apparently natural make, sewn from a fibrous, breathable plant-based cloth, an ethereal material gifted to her by a fae prince she once crossed paths with. They're crafted in such a way as to seem at once elegant and almost tribal, with feathers and tufts of fur tastefully displayed about the robes. The sleeves are almost entirely detached from the rest of the garment, held on by a few elastic strings of colourful etched beads, showcasing the elegant slope of her shoulders. She wears an ornate silver circlet and hooped silver earrings along with the rest of her ensemble. They glow oddly in the moonlight, waxing and waning along with its phases. A small blue thrush named "Pippin" constantly perches upon her shoulder, tweeting constantly, particularly vocal when she prepares a spell. She speaks back to the bird often, giving her a reputation of being slightly touched in the head.
Registered: Sept 23, 2015 21:22:52 GMT -8
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Post by Gwenneth Barclay on Apr 18, 2016 16:38:09 GMT -8
Gwenneth Barclay seems fairly oblivious to the proceedings going on around her, though her aura is attracting plenty of sailor attention to herself. She stands in the crowd of people intently focused on fixing the twisted arms of a fetish she made earlier, her tongue stuck slightly out between her full pink lips, her brow furrowed as she fiddles with the vaguely human-shaped bundle of twigs.
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Post by Daimyo Ryuk-Rakka Hoshi no Ken on Apr 18, 2016 17:57:53 GMT -8
In the distance a large ship was coming. Despite the size of it, as the object grew closer, one could see it was a ship that had been ruined in battle. How something in it's condition was still floating was baffling. Dead bodies hung over the side and massive holes were blown in the sides. The masts were all broken the there were no paddles sticking out the sides.
Inside the ship was one sentient being. He sat in a seat crafted from a black wood that had two red orbs above it. His armor was unscathed and carried a Katashiman style from the Shiniga. From him a dark vibe was cast across the ship that would give one the goosebumps when landing on it.
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Rognar Hammerborn
Established
Roleplay posts: 13
Age: 54
Physical Description: ----------------------
Race: Dwarf
Hair/Beard: Dark Brown
Size/Weight: average dwarfish
Build: Sturdy
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Clothes and Equipment: Plate armor + helmet
Warhammer on back
Two axes on belt
Daggers (hidden)
Warhammer: http://pre01.deviantart.net/9d27/th/pre/i/2012/351/5/1/speed_model___warhammer_by_metonymic-d5obk24.jpg
Axes: http://www.iloveswords.com/images/LOTR/MDL_gimli2.jpg
Daggers: http://orig08.deviantart.net/6619/f/2014/032/8/7/untitled_by_laforjadeprometeo-d74mr07.jpg
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Player's online availability : Daily.
Registered: Apr 5, 2016 2:09:50 GMT -8
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Post by Rognar Hammerborn on Apr 19, 2016 5:09:06 GMT -8
Rognar laughed as Eliza Opal made the large bird's acquaintance. "Better be cannie ur they will drag ye overboard." she said and chuckled. Field Marshall Windbag was flying in the air, close to the ship, enjoying the wind and squawking happily. He was used to cold winds from his home and walked around deck, trying to find a spot, where he could look over the railing. When he couldn't find one, he sat down on a wooden box, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the shanty and lit his pipe, watching his fellow companions. |
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King Averin Arach
Dedicated
Working on the whole king thing
Roleplay posts: 284
Age: 21
Physical Description: Averin is a tall man, standing at six foot two. He has a build equal parts lithe and powerful. Broad shouldered, well muscled, but possessed of an undeniable grace. He reminds many of a tiger. He moves with a slow, languid, precision, that gives him undeniable aura of deadly skill.
Averin is a handsome man. With a square cut jaw, straight nose, and prominent cheek bones. His brown eyes are dark and alluring. Sometimes they sparkle with kindness, other times gleaming with baleful intent. His habitual expression is a half smile.
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Clothes and Equipment: Averin prefers to wear his silver steel half plate. One pauldron stylize to look like a hawks head. Combined with his large red cloak, he has a very distinctive look. His preferred weapon is a bastard sword. His blade is an oddity. The hilt is worn and weathered, and seems to be ancient. The blade though looks freshly forged. The shining metal gleams brightly in light, and it's edge razor sharp. Both his armor and sword posses some degree of magic, though exactly how much is known only to him.
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Registered: Mar 21, 2016 6:59:05 GMT -8
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Post by King Averin Arach on Apr 19, 2016 9:48:23 GMT -8
"Another few hours Alastair, now form up."
Averin gives out a sharp whistle getting the attention of all his men. Once they have gathered he looks at the assembled mercenaries. They were a motley crew to be sure, still you work with what you have. The young knight stands at military rest, feet shoulder width apart, hand clasped behind his back. He clears his throat and waits for relative silence.
"We will be in Avelius in the next few hours. Those of you assigned to a scouting group will be getting off their. Those of you unassigned will be joining me. We will be riding across the river to the city of Sword. With that out of the way it's time I let the new hire know what we are actually doing."
Averin takes a breath. He had kept this secret for most of his life. His men knew it, they had been told by their parents. Other than them and the pirates no one knew. This would be the first time he voiced it aloud. If he was going to do this though it was the best choice. If he was too succeed he'd need to win the trust of four people. You did not win trust by keeping secrets.
"The purpose of this mission is not the get mercenary work. We already have a job in place. It is likely the most important job many of you will take part in. For those of you who didn't read the report, Alban has been suffering since the loss of it's king. The king and the magic sword An Dlí were vital to Alban's prosperity and twenty years ago they were both lost."
Averin draws his sword and presents it to the crowd. It is not an impressive blade. Indeed it seems to be just a simple steel. If exceptionally well crafted, with a razors edge, and brightly polished.
"This is An Dlí. My name is not Averin Drake, it is Averin Arach. I am the son of the last true King of Alban. Our job is to reforge the pact between the four races of Alban, restore An Dli's power, and bring Alban back to glory. Specifics of the role you will play in this will be given later. For now though are there any questions?"
Averin sheaths his sword and waits for to hear what they have to say.
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Captain Arthur Maddock
Established
Roleplay posts: 36
Age: 28
Physical Description: Arthur is of roughly average height for a human male at 5'10", with a light but solid build of essentially no body fat at about 160 lbs. His figure, nonetheless, is very striking thanks to his hair (so pale blonde as to look white in almost any light) and eyes (ostensibly a light grey, but appearing silver in many settings). A very quick way to get on the Captain's bad side is to call his face androgynous, pretty, or anything of the sort -- the eccentric pirate has heard it often before, and generally responds violently. Considering his profession, Arthur has incredibly few scars... whether due to prowess in battle or cunningly avoiding it being a matter of some debate outside of his crew.
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Clothes and Equipment: Arthur is almost always clad in one of several identical outfits consisting of his black tricorn hat trimmed in a dark red (and adorned with what the Captain often claims is "a genuine pixie skull, mate"), a lace-up white shirt generally worn unlaced at the top to help him stay cool and because he thinks it looks dashing, black lace-up pants worn laced up and belted with a length of silk cloth because it wouldn't do to have one's pants fall down in a boarding action, very fine black leather boots, and generally a black long coat with a very elaborate, high collar to shield him from both sun and inclement weather. Like many sailors he wears some few ornaments, primarily beads, in his hair -- even the few he wears tend to click together when he turns his head rapidly or in a strong wind. His only jewelry consists of an old silver signet ring bearing caravels on waves and, like almost every member of the Silver Shrike's crew, a simple necklace bearing a ship's wheel charm. Arthur keeps several daggers concealed about his person, like any sensible brigand, and carries his schiavona -- a basket-hilted blade much like a slightly shorter, broader rapier, a weapon of war rather than one for dueling and useful for both cut and thrust -- at all times, including to the head or bed. He has been known to carry a hand-crossbow for the initial stages of a boarding action.
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Player's online availability : Variable. PST.
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 14:16:58 GMT -8
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Post by Captain Arthur Maddock on Apr 19, 2016 12:33:24 GMT -8
Captain Maddock didn't seem especially concerned with Averin's speech -- it was almost entirely old information to him, one of his father's ships having been used to bring Averin away from Alban. At the revelation of the sword, though, a smile formed on the Captain's face; that would certainly make things easier. That smile faded, however, when Arthur heard one of the lookouts cry out a sighting of a wreck. His gaze shifted in the direction announced, swifting spotting the ship. Arthur took a moment to ponder that vessel, taking note of its condition as the flying vessel approached the barely-floating one. It was clearly a navigational hazard to any waterborne ships that might come this way, and he saw no signs of survivors... not to mention, anything that wrecked was devoid of worthwhile loot.
"Ah, yer lordship... vessel just ahead. We're safe, but she's adrift and could be a hazard to any ships passing at night. Pestilence aboard, festering in those corpses, like as not. Shall we dispose of 'er? Easy enough to burn her..." In fact, Eirwynn would be familiar with the how -- they occasionally burned prizes too damaged to be worth taking to port and selling off. The Silver Shrike was still en route to Avelius, and indeed quite close now. That gave another reason to dispose of a floating wreck likely packed with sickness.
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King Averin Arach
Dedicated
Working on the whole king thing
Roleplay posts: 284
Age: 21
Physical Description: Averin is a tall man, standing at six foot two. He has a build equal parts lithe and powerful. Broad shouldered, well muscled, but possessed of an undeniable grace. He reminds many of a tiger. He moves with a slow, languid, precision, that gives him undeniable aura of deadly skill.
Averin is a handsome man. With a square cut jaw, straight nose, and prominent cheek bones. His brown eyes are dark and alluring. Sometimes they sparkle with kindness, other times gleaming with baleful intent. His habitual expression is a half smile.
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Clothes and Equipment: Averin prefers to wear his silver steel half plate. One pauldron stylize to look like a hawks head. Combined with his large red cloak, he has a very distinctive look. His preferred weapon is a bastard sword. His blade is an oddity. The hilt is worn and weathered, and seems to be ancient. The blade though looks freshly forged. The shining metal gleams brightly in light, and it's edge razor sharp. Both his armor and sword posses some degree of magic, though exactly how much is known only to him.
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Registered: Mar 21, 2016 6:59:05 GMT -8
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Post by King Averin Arach on Apr 19, 2016 12:49:25 GMT -8
Averin flicked his eyes to Arthur. He was a bit annoyed by the interruption. He was technically finished his speech, but he was still waiting on questions. Still he supposed he should see what the Captain was talking about. He peers over the side at the wreck. Indeed it seems like a ghost ship from a story. He nods at the Captain.
"I have little knowledge of naval matters. I will defer to your expertise. Do as you see fit Captain."
Then he turns his attention back to his men.
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Eirwynn Rodrick
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 28
Physical Description: Of average height for a human, Eirwynn is 5'5" and curvaceous, with slightly-tanned skin and a sturdy bone structure. She has dark brown hair that falls to just past her shoulders, and hazel eyes that have often been described as 'mercurial', as their exact coloring shifts between varying shades of brown, gold, and green depending upon her mood. Her face is attractive, if not beautiful in an eye-catching way, and she has often been described as 'cute' - which is a surefire way to end up with a sword pointed at your face. She has a smattering of scars across her body, including one across the right side of her face that bisects her eyebrow and continues down below her eye, but that's likely to be expected, given her chosen career.
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Clothes and Equipment: Her chosen attire generally consists of a pair of tight-fitting brown breeches, paired with a low-cut white shirt with slightly-loose sleeves, and a pair of low-heeled brown leather boots that come to a stop just shy of her knees. This is occasionally accessorized with any of a number of underbust corsets in varying colors, and/or a long brown coat that she often wears open. Typical accessories consist of a two brown leather belts - one wide, which seems to be purely for ornamental purposes (aside from holding her sword's scabbard), and a thinner one which carries a few pouches that hold various items (compass, coins, and a few heinous powders, mostly) - a red sash tied around her hips, and a number of charms and beads strung throughout her hair. She has two necklaces that she never takes off, one bearing a ship's wheel charm, and the other bearing a trio of roughly-cut semi-precious stones in black, blue, and white. She has a schiavona which never leaves her side, even when she's sleeping. What is perhaps her most distinctive possession is an oddly-shaped wood-and-metal club that she wears at her hip; despite its appearance, the item is in fact a weapon, and a projectile one at that, which she fondly refers to as her 'Thumper', given the noise the projectile bludgeoning instrument makes when it impacts its intended target - usually someone's skull. Enchanted by one of the rare wizards (who happens to be a close family friend) of Alban, the instrument is bespelled to return to her hand once thrown. It's her favored method of disciplining crew members, and they've all learned to fear the odd weapon, especially when it begins to emanate smoke as a sign of its owner's annoyance.
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Player's online availability : Variable; usually afternoons and evenings. (PST)
Registered: Apr 1, 2016 10:59:40 GMT -8
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Post by Eirwynn Rodrick on Apr 19, 2016 13:03:52 GMT -8
Eirwynn had no reaction to Averin's proclamation; she and Arthur both knew who he really was, after all. That was why they were here! She just looked bored.. at least until the lookout called to them, and then she spotted the derelict ship, about the same time Arthur did. Letting her arms fall from their folded position, she moved to the rail and peered toward it. The look she cast Arthur was a clear one; this was a problem they'd encountered before, and needed to be nipped in the bud before people died.
The silent communication between Captain and first mate resulted in the expected conversation with Averin, and Eirwynn descended from the quarterdeck and onto the main deck, snapping orders at crew members as she went. "Fetch a cask o' oil from th' hold. You there - gimme that." Snatching the bandanna from a passing crewman's head, she twisted and wadded it up, then tucked it between her elbow and side as she fished flint and steel out of a pocket of her coat. Once the cask was brought up from below, she gestured for it to be placed on the rail, and popped the bung out of its hole.
Eirwynn and Arthur worked in perfect concert, as he steered the ship ever so slightly closer to the wreck sailing below them. Eirwynn stuffed the stolen bandanna into the bunghole of the cask, then struck flint against steel until a spark caught on the fabric. Just as they soared over the corpse-riddled craft, she pushed the cask overboard with precision. It dropped true, aimed toward the deck of the ship; should it hit (as was only to be expected, given it appeared to be devoid of life or any sort of direction), the cask would smash open and send oil flying.. oil which would then be caught ablaze by the flaming wick. Dusting her hands off, Eirwynn returned to the quarterdeck, and took up her spot beside Arthur once more, with arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face.
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Damtion
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: ???
Physical Description: The appearance of this being beneath his armor is unknown. The only aspect of his actual body that can be identified is his height. Damtion stands at eight feet tall.
Clothes and Equipment: Damtion is always encased in full plate armor from head to toe. No matter the brightness of his surroundings, light never penetrates the darkness behind the metal mask of his great-helm. He carries with him at all times a great sword, inscribed with unknown and ancient runes along it's entire blade, predating any known histories.
Registered: Apr 2, 2016 21:37:21 GMT -8
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Post by Damtion on Apr 20, 2016 11:45:06 GMT -8
Below decks, Damtion's armored head would tilt upwards slightly at the sound of summons for the mercenaries. Gathering up his great-sword the armored monolith would begin making his way above decks to stand with the others.
Despite Damtion's size, he moved with a certain fluidity that was only betrayed by the sound of the armored plates he wore as they clanked against themselves. Also quite surprisingly, he did not get in the way of any of the sailors as he moved about, or perhaps they did not get in his way themselves. Either way he would make it above decks just in time to hear Averin's speech. Outwardly, the suit of armor did not seem to have any reaction beyond standing still at attention.
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Post by Daimyo Ryuk-Rakka Hoshi no Ken on Apr 20, 2016 18:04:55 GMT -8
The beings in the floating ship would find their cask to hit right on target. The oils splashed and began to roll across the deck of the ship in a contained space, just as they would naturally do. What did set it off was the gust of wind the overtook the ship and extinguished the flame right before the cask hit. All that was created was a mess.
A few seconds later, the oil seemed to move again, but over the edge of the ship and into the water. The eerie vibe that surrounded this ship would become more prominent. Although nothing was seen, the dark magic was very relevant to create this sensation. Then, whether they noticed him or not, a man on the deck would begin to try and stand up despite having a piece of wood through his right thigh.
A few grunts and coughs of blood occurred as the man rose before he looked up and shouted, "HELP! They're all dead!!! Anyone, please help!"
Secretly, the being inside the ship was at work. He was reanimating the beings body through this aura as if it was himself and using it to draw most to rescue. Everyone was dead, but sometimes dying wasn't the end of their fate in the Overworld. While the dead man was trying to ask for help, Seagulls began to fly around the ship and do what they do best; screech and poop.
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Warlord Ei Halvard
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 180
Physical Description: Of the Dwarven race, Ei Halvard is about 4'5" (relatively tall for a dwarven male), has jet black hair, and thick stony muscles.
Clothes and Equipment: Bronze armor, iron boots, lead alloy axe.
Registered: Apr 2, 2016 16:08:04 GMT -8
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Post by Warlord Ei Halvard on Apr 20, 2016 19:35:29 GMT -8
The incident between the privateers and the mysterious wreck did not go unnoticed. Sailing on patrol of the continent was a frigate. The vessel was commanded by the venerable Sea Guard, the dwarven guardians of the ocean.
A scout was standing in the crows nest, his eyeglass peering out towards the horizon. "By the grace of the earth, what is that?" The unnatural wind and the human privateers' failed attempt to destroy the vessel did not go unnoticed. The warrior would see the oil mysteriously slide off the deck. It made no sense... "By Vermillion, that's no ordinary wreck! Invader! Invader!" He called out below.
A green magical flare shot from the vessel, which would signal for the presence of more frigates. The political situation in Alban was harsh enough as it was. The last thing they needed was some freaky necromatic goons making it worse. The odd behavior of the vessel was more than enough to justify a swift military response.
Seven more ships were approaching on the horizon, and their respective crews were preparing their “green flare” offensive. They each bore the flag of the dwarves. However, the original scout ship had a different flag, a black and white hour glass. There were several of these flags on board to warn intruders that they had a very specific amount of time to turn around or suffer the consequences
After a minute, the flag would be lowered and quickly replaced with a slightly different hourglass, one less than full.
The daimyo's ship was running out of time. Based on the intervals between flags, if the Daimyo did not turn around in about 3 minutes, he would certainly be destroyed.
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Post by Daimyo Ryuk-Rakka Hoshi no Ken on Apr 20, 2016 20:06:01 GMT -8
The man on the deck who shouted would waive his arms and hope that someone would see him. His shouts were getting softer and softer as his throat got drier and drier. The ship continued to fly by and went on without seeing him. Ryuk knew that despite not being seen, he was much closer to land.
Ryuk continued to keep the body animated to act as his view over the ocean. When the green flare took off into the sky, it did not go unnoticed. The ship would begin to move at a faster pace towards the ships in the distance. It didn't take long before Ryuk noticed the smaller ships with the hourglass flags.
The water began to part in front of the ruined ship and the ship would quickly descend into it. As the end of the ship went below the water, a large splash was made. Once below the surface, the ship would continue to descend as it progressed towards the other ships. It didn't take time before the ship vanished beneath the water to depths that not even a flying ship could see.
On board the ship, Ryuk was going through a first. Ryuk had never seen the ship do this, but then again, he never was in this situation. Thankfully, he didn't seem to struggle under the water and the men on the ship all stuck like magnets. Everything became animated and the beings moved like they were preparing an attack. All the while, Ryuk would continue to focus in on the ships dark energy and manipulate it to his will.
"Shinigami, I dare not ask what you are doing, but you must understand the power of man. We're outnumbered ten to one." Ryuk telepathically communicated to the ship.
"Ryuk, your life is worth my power. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you like I did the rest when I took over this ship. If you want an army, you have to have people who want you to lead them. To control an army of undead, you will have to believe in the Shinigami as you always have." The ship responded.
"I know this... But no Shinigami has ever drawn the blood of the Shiniga. My faith means nothing to you, you need me to live in this world. One day I will be your Shinigami one day.... But use me for your will, I have no choice." Ryuk responded, letting off a sigh and looking to his left with his head down.
"Good. Now prepare yourself for battle. If you want to live, we need to create chaos within their lines. We are outnumbered and outgunned, but those are numbers that can be changed. You are a Daimyo, show these people who is the rightful bringer of death...Shiniga." The ship spoke again, adding a sarcastic tone at the end to aggravate Ryuk and make him want to fight harder.
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