Character discussions?

[Hunter.]

Pieman, great one as always.

I saw someone posted and scrolled down expecting more great stories

[macmacnick]

No character things, unfortunately, but I do have some good descriptions of things.

[RedRoach]

Hey, I know nobody knows me since I just showed up on the forums literally 5 days ago, but I've been thinking about a backstory for my character before I saw this, so why not put my 2 cents in.

Nobody really paid attention to him when he tried to show off. Everybody simply looked away every time the teenager of 16 tried to get their attention. It, suffice to say, broke several nerves in him after a while. The things he did went from interesting to downright stupid. Eventually, he was stranded off a junker in the middle of a sandstorm after trying to get people to laugh over his "amazingly funny" joke on how sand is combustible when combined with propeller blades with a live, un-repairable demonstration. After a ton of walking around, he managed to make his way to a small town that was conveniently  placed within a day's worth of sprinting. As he slowly merged with the local population over time, he began to go into a darker lifestyle of theft and crime. Soon enough, after 2 years he had to stow away on another junker to escape the bounty on his head (despite the bounty's pay being able to amount to less than an ounce of water). Suddenly, a pirate's airship drifted into view, and the junker, being the only thing it's sight, went under heavy fire. The crew scrambled about wildly, but had trouble controlling the damage from the pirate ship. In the chaos, a rubber mallet fell towards the kid stowaway the same time the engine closest to him began to sputter. With instinct and adrenaline in his head, he grabbed the mallet and began whacking away at the engine, somehow keeping the engine together. Everyone saw the random kid smashing the engine together, but until the pirates were dead, nobody had time to argue. At last, after a long fight, the enemy's ship burned and crashed into the sands. The crew turned and gazed at this stowaway that somehow just helped keep the ship together. Instantly, the teen realized that the men on this junker were on the same one with the "sand explosion" incident. He'd finally got that attention in the spotlight that he wanted for all those years, but suddenly it didn't seem so fun to be under their watch. Silence stayed on the ship for moments. Then, the crew spoke, with the captain talking first.

"How the hell did you do that? You're just a kid, blew up an engine, and now you're repairing it?"

"I don't know how he got on here Cap, but he's doing okay considering we're alive."

"Well, I wouldn't be shooting rounds if that idiot wasn't on the engine."

"I think we could make something out of him."

The captain stared for a while through his eyes. Then, he said:

"What's your name?"

The teen thought for a while. He'd been a pest to everybody for a while. And, well, he was covered in blood after that one time where he had to stab someone to get away. Hmm...

"I don't have a name." The person replied. "But I think it would be perfectly okay if you called me RedRoach. Unless... you're punting me off the ship again In that case, just call me FlyingPineapple."

Since he's kept the name RedRoach, it's kinda obvious the decision the crew made that day.

[Piemanlives]

Welcome aboard Red, always good to see such a fantastic entry into the forum.

[Hunter.]

With instinct and adrenaline in his head, he grabbed the mallet and began whacking away at the engine.

Made me chuckle, also, welcome to the forums!

Also, I'm sure the Pirate ship which attacked you was Jacob's crew of privateers! Only Jacob the Insane would be found inside a sandstorm looking for ships to pillage!

[Mod Josie]

Well, now. That's a very interesting theory. However, I may remind you that I was shot down while under Naval custody. My privateer vessel was never destroyed in actual combat. When I was captured by the navy, they escorted us aboard their vessels and scuttled all our ships out near The Flayed Hills. I was shot down over the deserts while I was serving in the navy.

I was not the only insane privateer patrolling the skies. Perhaps another fell victim to you that day

[Hunter.]

Well I guess I will just keep my theory to my non-canon timeline! (I like the ideas of different stories being linked)

[Shadak Shademore]

After tomorrow i shall write my backstory here. nice one redroach!

[RedRoach]

I feel like I should write more about my character than just my "origin". Will say it's partly because of positive feedback, also will say it's partly because "holy s--- I forgot to explain that my character does this and wears this and looks like this and etc. etc." Can I do that?

[Hunter.]

I feel like I should write more about my character than just my "origin". Will say it's partly because of positive feedback, also will say it's partly because "holy s--- I forgot to explain that my character does this and wears this and looks like this and etc. etc." Can I do that?

Feel free, the thread died down a little.. maybe more character descriptions from more people would revitalise the thread a little!

[RedRoach]

"Hey, I heard you were asking about me. Eh, who cares. I'm just your average guy here on this planet of dust and death, just gettin' shot at, being mutinied, nearly killed, committing vandalism and theft, kicked off in the desert, and being used as a bribe. Buuuuttt, I decided to make a name for myself an' all that, and tada! I've done it! I've done something no other person has ever done on this damn planet! Get a successful job as an engineer that likes guns without having to kill people but being able to kill people at the same time! I know, miracle right? My job's called 'scavenging'. 'parently, those jobs are really rare. Anyway, you were asking? Oh yeah, this jacket! I keep all kinds of stuff in there. You know, back in the day before you had to fly in a blimp to live, people actually carried things in backpacks. Yeah, I know, people do that today, but they always put stuff like ammo, guns, fuel, stuff like that. Back then, they put everything that... well, leave it at everything. Toys, magazines, books, figurines, pictures, cameras, silencers, grenades, food, rations, whistles, machine parts, other bags... and it's kinda a pain to put it all in my own bag and have to be slowed down by it, right? Introducing, my awesome sleek jacket! I know, it's just a black jacket with a skull on the side but trust me. I've got, like, 9 pockets in this thing! I've had a whole bunch of strange things in here, ranging from a hi-powered pistol, a small sonar-radar-thing in pieces, some paperwork and tin-foil, drinks, graffiti spray cans, and- what the hell is this? I thought I sold it already? Ah, well, more hydrogen canisters for that jetpack project. And that's just the first 6 pockets! Let's just say, that if I need it, it's probably in my jacket. Kinda like a black hole, except I can retrieve things! Where I got the jacket? Oh, it's some from some out-of-date store now. Like, several dozens of years out of date. I just made some.. ah... modifications. Oh, flak, just forgot, had some stuff to do right now. Talk with ya later, just remembered I'm carrying a random-detonation bomb I was supposed to give to the armory guys a few days back. Seeya later!"

*in the distance an audible boom can be heard moments after some vicious swearing and pocket rumbling.*

"I think I need a tailor! Oh, and also a medic, but mostly a tailor!"

[Shadak Shademore]

 In a little village on the dusty plains of the planet, Shadak awoke to the new dawn of day. She rose to begin her chores of the day, grabbing her trusty pack and utility belt on her way out of her sandstone house. Here you worked for everything and her job in this tribe of people was to find and collect parts. It didn't matter what it was because anything out here could be useful down to the smallest piece of metal.

Her life here was hard but not one she didn't love for as she walked the golden places of her homeland there were many things that only she was likely to have ever seen in this day and age. Small caves that like geodes grew massive spikes of crystal were a point of fascination for her. Her greatest discovery was an old submerged building with a spire and great old iron gates that were slowly rusting away at the bottom of an underground lake. That was one of her favourite places and she had learned to free dive so to allow her to explore this crumbling structure of the old times she had never known. Some places in the building held pockets of air which allowed her to see it for its old beauty, as she envisioned people gathering here, among displays of flowers and candles. Occasionally she would take what was needed from this building to give to her tribe, even though she hated to do so. She even found a small golden ring which she had brought back for a wedding on the surface. She could spend hours here.

But time waits for no -one and soon she had to leave the sanctuary of the old aged Atlantis building and made her way to the surface, holding onto her  stone, crystal and metal wire flower necklace which she made from fallen pieces of the building. With her back pack full she made her way back to her village. She looked ahead. The sky burned with an orange hue. The sun was still high in the sky which only meant one thing. She dropped her pack and ran towards her village, hoping she was wrong.

The skies opened up to reveal four massive ships passing low over the village, all guns blazing at the shanty below, burning it to the ground. She had to find her family. She dodged between buildings running between breaks in the fire and bullets as she moved around the village towards her father’s workshop. As she ran she looked at the faces of the terrified people fleeing the village and the cold scarred faces of those she would ever speak to again. Tears ran down her face as she witnessed the end of all she had known. The smoke swirled around her as she entered the workshop.

"Father! Mother!" she coughed as she felt through the gathering darkness. She knelt down to try and breathe what little fresh air there was. A mighty explosion. The ground shook. The shelves she had been moving between collapsed upon her, her head impacted upon a gear and she knew no more.


                                                                               *****
Her eyes cracked open and she looked around her. White ash lay on the floor like a blanket and floated through the window like hot snow. She pushed at the shelf that pinned her to the floor but could not move it due to the heavy duty nature of its craft. To her right she spotted a number of bars of metal. She reached for them and began using them to prop the shelf up like a lever and pulled herself out. Standing up was painful, even breathing was painful. She looked at her sides and found the characteristic purple-black streaks of broken ribs. Her ankle had been twisted and she struggled to stand up. She had to find any of the survivors of this horrific disaster. She grabbed a spare backpack and gathered parts from around the workshop. The longest pieces of metal, the few pieces of material that were left, rope and water bags. She stopped by her Mothers desk and paused to look at the small metal box she kept her personal collection in. She took it in the hope of being able to return it to her.

She walked out of the building and watched the ash blow pass her face like small moths on the wind. She hobbled between buildings calling out to anyone who may still be alive to speak. Her voice began to crack after hours of shouting. She despaired at the thought that she alone had survived. Why had she been out when this had happened?

Then from the wreckage of a building a small whistle could be heard. She moved towards the building, still burning with small embers of the fire. In the corner of the ruin was the form of a tiny boy with his toy whistle. She had seen him in the village and was always getting into trouble. The whistle was his help whistle since he had never learned to speak. His parents' still bodies lay in front of him and the shock and terror of the event were etched on his tiny young baby face. She checked the parents but there was nothing that could be done. She vowed that day to get him to safety and to find a place for them to live. Fortunately for them the boy was unhurt except for a few minor burns. She coaxed him from the corner and away from the building and began to walk out of the village, the crying boy in tow. She had run out of tears to shed and her hard practical head had taken over.

They walked for days towards the mountain peaks in the north. She knew that there was some family of hers there and if her parents were alive they would have headed there. Her village life had taught her to hunt and all the survival skills she needed. The boy although silent, was a calming influence on her as she struggled with the fury of her hatred of those who had destroyed her home. They were not part of the war but the war came to them. She continued to collect things along the way unable to help herself.

Soon the mountains after a month of travelling were in view and hope sprang in her heart. The young boy, weary of their life on the road looked to her for comfort and now she could give him something to smile about. They walked up the treacherous path to the gate of the mountain town. The town’s people pointed to a cave high on the mountain side and there in the busy heart of an airship building yard was her mother and father.

                                                                               *****
Years later... The smell of pinewood dust and fire stirred Shadak from her slumber. Through the window of her room beams of sunlight shone upon a makeshift chandelier, made of dozens of mirrors and glass spread an array of colour onto every wall. She rose from her handcrafted bed and looked out the window at the first light of day. The sun could be seen just creeping above the horizon, lighting up tiny particles of dust that rose from the wasteland that sprawled into the distance. Her home, a collection of makeshift houses and air docks, was founded in the side of a range of mountains. She traced the line of chipped stoned streets as they wove their way around the precipices and stilted houses. Though it was early, many of its people had decided to wander the streets and begin the work that had set for them. Ladies in tiered skirts could be seen swanning their way around the market looking for their next trinket. Their existence, although blighted by the ever changing weather, always held upon something interesting coming across the skies. People in battalions of their ships often docked here, unloading crates of food and trading for the craft intrinsically found here.

Her father was one of these craftsmen. He was one of the most highly respected ship builders that could be found in the sector and had taken control of the yard after the owner passed it on to him. From the smallest patrol to the biggest transporter, he could build them and design them. She herself had also shown promise. She wondered about her room her hand grazing the numbers of projects, carved creatures and the hundreds of tiny boxes she had collected. It didn't matter what it was, it wasn't the point. All the small broken parts that she collected and categorized were there in case she needed it. Her proudest project was a small and yet very heavy compass, made in the old ways, broken by war and fixed by her it was a matter of fascination for her. Its heavy brass casing held within a small level and the star finder. She had even made a small little box for it and intricately carved it with a ship’s she had seen passing. This was the gift she was going to give to her little brother. The small little boy she had rescued from the disaster of her old world.

She quickly prepared herself for the tasks ahead, bringing her trusty utility bag, and made her way quickly to the workshop. It was obvious that her father had been up for many hours preparing for the arrival of a large carrier ship. She went to her father’s desk and looked over the blueprints for this particular ship. This ship prepared for war and trade was considered to be the height of efficiency, only to be added by the number of highly respected names that resided upon it. She traced the ship’s dimensions with her finger, taking in the intricate drawings of the mechanisms, its armament and the small designs had been carefully carved into its sides. Many of the workers who were around eyed her warily. She had given them enough reason to. Her last invention, a ballistic of such explosive power it often damaged the gun it came from, had started a small fire when she began to test the formula.

The workshop was a huge building, comprised of many different types of wood and held together by giant iron nails, and was a maze of different ladders and walkways. It stood several stories high with balconies running along them and was nearly a league in width. Of course it had to be this way. Airship bells rang, announcing the arrival the great airship. The heavy wooden doors of the workshop were pulled open by giant wheels, levers and pulleys. The creaking of the enormous doors echoed in the cave set workshop and a flood of the early sun poured though the widening gap. A shadow passed over the light before slowly and carefully gliding into the dock. No matter how many times she saw this she was always amazed with the skill that was needed to dock in such a space, and almost all the time the manoeuvre was perfect. The top deck was level with the main work area and ropes were thrown and tied off to secure the structure.
The sailors disembarked boxes and crates upon their shoulders and dragged giant nets to the storage bay. She stood there at the master’s desk taking it all in and searching for her father in the bustling crowd. Although many chose to wear basic outfits, it was clear that those of high rank often chose to create more and more outrageous outfits to break the monotony of the rust coloured world. She had also followed this method of rebellion, often wearing cloaks clasped by interlocking gears and changing all the buttons on her outfits to small mechanical parts she found.

She spotted her father waiting by the bottom of the gangplank waiting for the arrival of the captain. She began making her way through the crowd, taking in all that the ship had brought to offer, occasionally stopping to assist with a box. It was this ship she was to leave on, to learn the way of the world and to make her own way in the world. Under the instruction of the head engineer she was going to learn her craft better than she could then if she stayed on the land for an engineer knows every "personality trait" the ship could throw up. Although she hated to leave the comfort of her home her heart still sought to become the adventuress she had become in her short life. Her heart still burned with the ember of hate for the war but in this she could find a new way to quell her anger.

That week she stood upon the deck of the ship as it left the hanger of the airship dockyard, waving to her family as the ship left into the light of the rising sun. She held back her tears as she clutched the necklace that she always wore to remind her of the past and the family she swore to protect. The doors closed and her new life in the clouds began.

[Shadak Shademore]

P.s. Sorry for the extreme length of my post xD

[Mod Josie]

This is brilliant, Shadak. I've been looking forward to reading your account since I heard you were making it ages ago. Nice work

[Hunter.]

Awesome stories! Both of you! I will get to work on planning a possible extension for my story.. maybe I will write a role-playing style account of our match against Sacrilege tomorrow.. yeah.. that's what I'll do!