Guns Of Icarus Online
Community => The Cantina => Topic started by: Hunter. on May 27, 2014, 10:15:50 am
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How did your character get in the clan he/she is in and in the costume you see them in?
Personal Story:
After a rough upbringing in the City of Nalm, a childhood full of theft, little water and scamming wandering traders, She finally saved up enough money to scavenge, trade, scam, steal and sometime purchase enough parts to create a small Squid class vessel and her dreams of leaving this Sordid wasteland was coming to fruition. She picked up anchor and left for better lands. Being young and having little life skills other than making shadowy "deals" and having a knack for steering and maintaining airships she struggled to fit in to places and often got heavily attached to those around her. One day she was in an especially bad state, malnourished and desperate she pulled up at a local tavern in the town of Fallow. Here she discovered a group of sky dwellers known as The Art of Warfare, they were playing a game called Caverns and Creatures, this was apparently an event they held which allowed them to escape their pasts and forget about event which are bound to happen in the future. Apparently the way you play is by creating a second life where you can be anything you want, after attending this event a few times she joined The Art of Warfare and completely abandoned her own story to live out life as her C+C character, known only as The Hunter, an elf from a kingdom from over yonder. Hunter became completely attached to this idea of a fair kingdom far away.
Well that's my pretty crap story, wonder what you guys can think of? Took me a while to type all this on my phone -_-
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Because the idea's pretty good, I'll sum in mine too. :3
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Ze Story:
Born in a not-so poor, yet not-so rich family in the factory-town of Fallow, He grew among machines, and working from factory to factory, learning from how to make a bullet, to build a Galleon from scrap. At his age of 19, he finally decided to take the seas of clouds for once, on his scrap-made Goldfish.
...With terrible results.
Due to his lack of ability to command an actual ship, and after surviving several crashes on mountains, he had to face a group of Pirates.
With no crew to support him in battle, his Goldfish, properly named Target Practice, exploded, with him inside.
With the luck of only losing half-a leg and part of his facial beauty, he spent two days walking in the desert, untill he found a small settlement... Of pirates.
Feeling pity for the poor boy, they accepted him in the crew. After a few years of intensive "training" -and prosthetic legs-, he learned how to fire a cannon properly, and he taught the pirates how to repair their ships properly too.
Everything was going so happily, untill another gang of pirates showed up.
A tight battle later, only a few were left of his companions, and one ship, known as Flying Toaster.
Without resources -and with a burning giant toaster-, they were forced to leave their camp, and head towards another civilized settlement. The closest option was to head back to Fallow, but they doubted if they were going to be accepted, as they were pirates... And their ship was on a constant fire.
Of course, they were kicked out of the town, and with the Toaster destroyed completely, they had to dwell in the scrapyards for a suitable life.
With a horse-sh... load of luck, they found a Spire, in acceptable conditions among the scrapped ships.
After a long process of rebuilding and modifications form his mind, the Spire was up and floating.
Since all the process of rebuilding was straight from his hands, he got the title of Captain, and he got a chance to name the ship.
"Dirty Hooker", was the chosen name. The origin of it is too long to be written here.
As the captain of the Dirty Hooker, he went back to Fallow, for a second chance.
This time, not as a pirate, or as a civilian. As a Mercenary, up for hire for the highest bidder.
With a black trenchoat, a good pair of aviator goggles, and hair white as the snow, Axlgx is up to assist you in battle as a crewmember, of with his own "Dirty Hooker".
...Of course, for a price.
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Tadaa! Everything's veridical, of course!
...Well, mostly everything.
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That was a really enjoyable story and in fact it made me really want to plays Guns with you now I know the story, I hope this catches on! I forgot to mention that stories can be silly or serious or a bit of both!
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Thankies, I did my best putting up facts and the things that actually happened to me in-game already, plus the tricks I learned in writing stories.
Again, yours was pretty enjoyable too. I hope that we cross our paths in the skyes someday!
(PPS: the more hilarious the story is, the better! -At least on my opinion. :P )
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Come on people, don't be shy ^^
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In a distant dusty corner of the neverending wastes, a man has cometh. Out of the shadows rises a giggle, a cackle, a .mrau.
Once the charming and charismatic captain of a fleet of privateers, Jacob Fii's luck ran out when the last great war broke out over the desolated planet. His ship was captured and he was conscripted into the navy. Feeling it too dangerous to allow a rogue Captain from a squadron of scallywags to retain command over one of their own much more valuable vessels, he was demoted to the rank of Chief Technician and forced to service the decks of his commander's vessel. Being an experienced captain, Jacob Fii quickly became one with his new ship - learning what every creak, every pipe whistle, every air bubble meant. He could keep that ship afloat somehow.
Sadly, his journey with the navy would not last. His ship was shot down over the desert wastes. He and the ship's cat were the sole survivors and they developed a bond. The cat could catch fish in oases and search out dangerous beasties that would be happy to ravage the Jacob. The Jacob knew which rare desert plants were edible and so fed the cat with Kove berries to keep her alive. They trekked for hundreds of miles before finding an encampment. His uniform, though battered and torn, was of their enemy. He promptly hid his clothes and appeared to them in his pyjamas. It was standard practice to wear Pyjamas under one's uniform for this eventuality, and also to remain warm at high altitude. He was rescued and sent to neutral territory.
Sadly, over this time Jacob had become a little worse for wear in his head. He had spent a considerable amount of time tending to his wounds at the crash site, using broken engine covers as shelters and sucking the water from the soil in the now useless potted plants. Hallucinations had crept into his fragile mind. He envisioned that his cat could speak to him and was always giving him assistance. The potted plants were not so becoming in their conversational skill and proceeded to berate and insult Jacob for his ineptitude. Before long, Jacob had killed and eaten the plants with glee and malice. These hallucinations surrounding potted plants would haunt him till the end of his days.
A stricken and dejected Jacob Fii finally returned to his serving company. By this time, he was not fit for active duty in the navy. His commanding officer assigned him to a dank and broken engine deck aboard a support runabout, an escort. Very few dared to venture into his deck for fear of his crazy laughter and overly irresistible charm. His recovery to health was slow and painful, but eventually he would regain the resolve and strength to crew ships once again as he was meant to - eventually rising to the rank of Commodore in command his heavily armoured guarding vessel, VSS Circumspect. His favourite potted plant, Phillip, sat to his right hand side. Maureen and Doris were too annoying and were put downstairs. His cat still follows him wherever he goes, though woe betide if someone were to ever capture that poor moggy. She knows more military secrets than the rest of the admiralty combined.
His adventure continues to this day.
[EDIT]
Somewhere in between the scribing of this tale and the present day, Jacob Fii ascended to demigodhood and is now known ubiquitously as -Muse- Jacob the almighty and wonderful.
His adventure continues to this day.
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Out of the shadows rises a giggle, a cackle, a .mrau.
Lost it..
Edit: Just finished the rest of the story, it was amazing!
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Heya, I'm actually trying to make a GOI Inspired book up and I wanted to use peoples online personas in it. So if anyone wouldn't mind me borrowing your characters for the book please put a note to me aka. Shadak at the bottom.
<3
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Heya, I'm actually trying to make a GOI Inspired book up and I wanted to use peoples online personas in it. So if anyone wouldn't mind me borrowing your characters for the book please put a note to me aka. Shadak at the bottom.
<3
My story is open season for you! And I'm sure the others will agree but you would have to ask!
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Shadak... Want me to give you the The Skies Have No Limits and The Burning Skies Saloon role-play documents? They have been mostly preformatted, and have also been grammatically corrected, for the most part. (I can send you it in .PDF, .txt, .docx, and .pages Format) (.pages is the format I have it in originally, as I use a mac, and have it for free)
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We need people for The Skies Have No Limits, so if you're up for an RP do feel free to ask questions in the discussion thread we have in the pit.
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Reminder this thread isn't dead and would love more stories! enjoyed them thus far!
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Several Years Ago
The Frozen North of Firnfeld blew against the pitiful figures trudging across the snow, a small convoy of carts filled with goods and people as they made their way towards Quinqaachi - the regional capital. Among them a father and daughter sat huddled under their blankets. The biting wind slashing against their faces, the bitter cold draining the life from everyone.
"Dad, I'm cold."
"Shh, it's going to be alright, just hold on a little bit longer."
Truth be told he didn't think they would make it, they'd been out of food before they had encountered the traders who had been kind enough to give them a lift. But even then the city was still out of sight, they were slowly freezing death, and he didn't know what to do. He held her closer to him, giving her his warmth, or rather what was left of it.
"Pardon me, we're stopping here for the night."
Behind him the caravan master was looking into their wagon.
"It'd be best if you carried her to the fire, it would be most helpful."
He felt exhaustion finally hit him, he gave a quite nod and lifted her out of the wagon, the other members of the caravan sat around the large fire sharing meal. He sat down closer to fire, life flow back into his fingers, he gave a sigh of relief as he felt the warmth rush over his body. A single sigh of relief was loosed from his mouth, he looked down at the young girl in his arms, she was six, he was only twenty-two, she was a mistake, he felt that often these days, but hell, she was his mistake, and was all the mattered.
It was then he realized that a year had almost passed, time had gone on without him noticing, life up to this point had been a blur, moving from city to city, through villages and towns, from backwater camps and cavernous ruins. Things hadn't been the same with her gone, though, he looked down at his daughter, somehow she slept peacefully his arms, a rosy color building in her cheeks, she was still incredibly pale, yet it was enough to give him hope. As he broke out of his reverie he heard someone come up behind him, the caravan master sat next to him, passing him a bowl of soup, he looked down at it, chunks of meat and thick broth were all they had, but it was food at least. He nudged her awake, giving her the bowl of soup, he didn't need it really, at least so he told himself.
"Thanks."
He looked at the other man who held his own bowl.
"You are welcome."
And with that they all sat in silence. The other members of the caravan ate quickly, ready to rest for the next leg of the journey. The bowl his daughter held was empty, taking it from her hand it piled it next to the others as the others finished eating. His lack of sleep finally caught up with him, holding each other they fell asleep in front of the fire.
They got moving early that morning, he helped pack the wagons as others helped take down the camp, he looked around and saw his daughter warming herself by the smoldering remains of the fire, a few other children played nearby, it often surprised him how quickly a child could recover from adversity. As the last of the camp was stored aboard everyone climbed upon their wagons and they set forth towards the horizon.
Night had fallen and he could see the city lights in the distance. They decided to keep going pushing towards the city, for the people of the caravan the city would be home for the next few weeks, for him he hoped to start a new life, provide some semblance of stability in their life. he turned his head to look at her, she was leaning over the wagon's railing, watching with curiosity as the lights drew closer.
"Hey, come here."
She turned around, crawling over to him in the darkness, he held her as the two of them looked out toward the city, it was a reassuring sight, the distant lights. A few ships lazed around the crescent harbor, swaying as the winds blew, the mist hanging about as the night carried on.
"We're going to make a new life for the two of us," he whispered "Stay strong, do it for me ok?"
She nodded, holding her head against his chest hummed a tune that was so often in his head, watching the clouds in the distance.
He wandered into a large building the next day, he'd left his daughter with the caravan as he searched for a job, the building was a buzz of activity, men and women carried stacks of papers from desk to desk, armed soldiers patrolled the floor, others left to patrol the city, a man at the desk noticed his arrival, possibly drawn in by his haggard looks.
"Can I help you sir?"
"I heard you were looking for men."
"We always are." He looked him up and down. "Do you think you can handle it?"
"If I have to."
He looked down at his ledger, "Alright, I'm going to need a name."
He paused for a moment before speaking, "Alexander Henley, at your service."
--End--
I hope you don't mind the wall of narrative text :P
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Several Years Ago
The Frozen North of Firnfeld blew against the pitiful figures trudging across the snow, a small convoy of carts filled with goods and people as they made their way towards Quinqaachi - the regional capital. Among them a father and daughter sat huddled under their blankets. The biting wind slashing against their faces, the bitter cold draining the life from everyone.
"Dad, I'm cold."
"Shh, it's going to be alright, just hold on a little bit longer."
Truth be told he didn't think they would make it, they'd been out of food before they had encountered the traders who had been kind enough to give them a lift. But even then the city was still out of sight, they were slowly freezing death, and he didn't know what to do. He held her closer to him, giving her his warmth, or rather what was left of it.
"Pardon me, we're stopping here for the night."
Behind him the caravan master was looking into their wagon.
"It'd be best if you carried her to the fire, it would be most helpful."
He felt exhaustion finally hit him, he gave a quite nod and lifted her out of the wagon, the other members of the caravan sat around the large fire sharing meal. He sat down closer to fire, life flow back into his fingers, he gave a sigh of relief as he felt the warmth rush over his body. A single sigh of relief was loosed from his mouth, he looked down at the young girl in his arms, she was six, he was only twenty-two, she was a mistake, he felt that often these days, but hell, she was his mistake, and was all the mattered.
It was then he realized that a year had almost passed, time had gone on without him noticing, life up to this point had been a blur, moving from city to city, through villages and towns, from backwater camps and cavernous ruins. Things hadn't been the same with her gone, though, he looked down at his daughter, somehow she slept peacefully his arms, a rosy color building in her cheeks, she was still incredibly pale, yet it was enough to give him hope. As he broke out of his reverie he heard someone come up behind him, the caravan master sat next to him, passing him a bowl of soup, he looked down at it, chunks of meat and thick broth were all they had, but it was food at least. He nudged her awake, giving her the bowl of soup, he didn't need it really, at least so he told himself.
"Thanks."
He looked at the other man who held his own bowl.
"You are welcome."
And with that they all sat in silence. The other members of the caravan ate quickly, ready to rest for the next leg of the journey. The bowl his daughter held was empty, taking it from her hand it piled it next to the others as the others finished eating. His lack of sleep finally caught up with him, holding each other they fell asleep in front of the fire.
They got moving early that morning, he helped pack the wagons as others helped take down the camp, he looked around and saw his daughter warming herself by the smoldering remains of the fire, a few other children played nearby, it often surprised him how quickly a child could recover from adversity. As the last of the camp was stored aboard everyone climbed upon their wagons and they set forth towards the horizon.
Night had fallen and he could see the city lights in the distance. They decided to keep going pushing towards the city, for the people of the caravan the city would be home for the next few weeks, for him he hoped to start a new life, provide some semblance of stability in their life. he turned his head to look at her, she was leaning over the wagon's railing, watching with curiosity as the lights drew closer.
"Hey, come here."
She turned around, crawling over to him in the darkness, he held her as the two of them looked out toward the city, it was a reassuring sight, the distant lights. A few ships lazed around the crescent harbor, swaying as the winds blew, the mist hanging about as the night carried on.
"We're going to make a new life for the two of us," he whispered "Stay strong, do it for me ok?"
She nodded, holding her head against his chest hummed a tune that was so often in his head, watching the clouds in the distance.
He wandered into a large building the next day, he'd left his daughter with the caravan as he searched for a job, the building was a buzz of activity, men and women carried stacks of papers from desk to desk, armed soldiers patrolled the floor, others left to patrol the city, a man at the desk noticed his arrival, possibly drawn in by his haggard looks.
"Can I help you sir?"
"I heard you were looking for men."
"We always are." He looked him up and down. "Do you think you can handle it?"
"If I have to."
He looked down at his ledger, "Alright, I'm going to need a name."
He paused for a moment before speaking, "Alexander Henley, at your service."
--End--
I hope you don't mind the wall of narrative text :P
That.. That was amazing.. makes me wish I'd put more effort into mine as opposed to just writing it on my phone, unformatted and rushed because of boredom!
all I have to say is.. I want more great character stories!
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Pieman, great one as always.
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Pieman, great one as always.
I saw someone posted and scrolled down expecting more great stories :(
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No character things, unfortunately, but I do have some good descriptions of things.
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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.
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Welcome aboard Red, always good to see such a fantastic entry into the forum.
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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!
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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 :D
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Well I guess I will just keep my theory to my non-canon timeline! (I like the ideas of different stories being linked)
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After tomorrow i shall write my backstory here. nice one redroach!
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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?
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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!
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"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!"
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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.
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P.s. Sorry for the extreme length of my post xD
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This is brilliant, Shadak. I've been looking forward to reading your account since I heard you were making it ages ago. Nice work :D
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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!
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I think the time is right for my two pennies to be added. I hope you will enjoy the story. Certainly was for me, to write a piece of history for the crew that I came up with. It's not so much a piece about how my character, Samantha, got into her clothes and organization. But rather how she completed the look and became a full on gunner on the Pyramidion. I apologize in advance if it's perhaps too long.
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Six years ago.
Amongst the rocky outcrops, as high as the clouds themselves a Pyramidion was flying. It's engines at full throttle and trying to use the rocks to stay out of line of sight. Slightly less then a kilometer behind it, another was flying. Colored in dark red with a wolf painted on rear the balloon. The occasional flak shot that was brought forth was professionally dodged. However, the pilot of the lead ship had trouble staying calm. “This is some serious bad luck.” He exclaimed, his eyes more to the back of his ship then the front. “I told you we were being watched!” Yelled the woman from the port gun. “If you had just listened we wouldn't be in this mess.” “Any ideas on taking them down? With every corner they're gaining on us.” The pilot almost screamed. She glanced at the engineer on the main deck. “Edison, take over from me, I need to discuss this with Fabian.” She said to the man. The engineer nodded as his answer, going up the small stairs that led up to the main engine and upper port gun. The woman was quicker then him however, jumping from the top of the stairs, to land on the main deck and cover the distance to the helm in almost half the time.
“We need a plan now.” The pilot said the moment she stood beside him. “Yea, a plan of engagement. I think they're Flak and Gatling front. Haven't seen what they got on the side, but we could use our own Flamethrower to throw them off.” Was the quick assessment she gave. Fabian nodded slowly, his attention half taken away. If he hadn't he would had noticed the shot coming right in. “Incoming!” Yelled the engineer as his eyes tracked the shot. The pilot distracted could not make the turn in time. The shot landing square on the main engine. Immediately allowing the chaser to close the distance faster. Fabian cursed loudly and shook his head. “Sam, give them hell.” The woman's lips curled in a grin. Immediately she bolted to the Flamethrower at the back. At the same time the pilot put the ship in a hard port turn. Getting the ship's side to the other. Immediately a Gatling started to fire from the pursuer. The bullets hitting the metal plating violently and putting strain on the armor module. Edison was just fixing the main engines and ran down to give the component a quick fix up.
The distance between the ships didn't remain that large, the momentum of the chasing ship causing it to get precariously close. Just too close as Samantha opened up with the weapon. A cone of fire spewing forth that quickly covered the entirety of the enemy Pyramidion. Causing fires over the entirety of the ship, to the point that the person at the Flak had to abandon his station to help repairing. Sam, however, did not let up. Putting the entire canister of fuel into the enemy. The moment it was empty she let go of the weapon. Running across the deck again and hurrying up the ladder. Almost in sync the pilot put the engines in reverse as the front got pointed to the other Pyramidion. “Edison, get on the guns!” He yelled to the engineer. “Am going!” Edison answered, following the gunner up the ladder to the upper walk way. But before they could even get on the guns the enemy Gatling was firing again. Putting large holes in the ship and pushing the armor further down.
Halfway through the woman grabbed the handles of her own Gatling, returning fire with as much fury, if not more. The enemy didn't keep their distance in the mean time. Seeming to put as much speed forward as possible. Fabian noticed the blades turning as fast as they could and mirrored it by putting his ship in full reverse. “What are the chances of surviving this?” He yelled up as his eyes locked with the other pilot. It was then that Edison got on the Scylla Mortar launcher and just emptied it into the ship. The explosions throwing out debris of the enemy ships, knocking out the front guns but not damaging the ship all that much. Samantha had reload the next clip of ammo into the Gatling and opened up again. “Below half if this keeps up. We're lacking a fourth person!” The gunner answered quickly. Finding the moment of no return fire to be pleasant for a change, on the other hand. But even she noticed that the space between the ships was decreasing.
The pilot glanced again to the rear and what he saw almost surprised him. A cliff face was rapidly approaching. His mind went in overdrive and he ordered. “Sam! Flamethrower now!” Without hesitation the woman let the half empty Gatling go and jumped over the walkway rail, falling two stories down. She landed perfectly, turning herself into a ball to turn the momentum from vertical to horizontal. The moment Sam had put her feet on the deck Fabian put the ship in the sharpest port turn he could manage. The maneuver causing damage to the ship's engines as long as it held up. “Edison, keep the balloon fixed!” He ordered to the man above. Without a word in return the engineer let go of the Scylla and put his full attention on the balloon. “Burn their balloon!” He quickly followed up. The Pyramidion narrowly missed the rocks. It's turn just in time to give a hair of space. For the pursuers however, the cliff came as a surprise. Simultaneously the woman opened up the flames again, putting the balloon a light as fast the weapon could spew out fuel. Just as the tip of the chasing Pyramidion buried into the rock. The metal collapsing in on itself as the ship's inertia could not cope with this obstacle. The beam structure around the balloon quickly collapsing in on itself and puncturing the fabric. Allowing the gases inside to take fire as well. Fabian quickly put the engines to max forward, canceling the momentum of his own ship as he watched the other balloon burn.
At this point, the enemy could not recover anymore. The ship plunging until it's hull found the canyon floor. Samantha had by now thrown in two canisters worth of fire onto the enemy ship. The grin on her face telling everyone she was eager to put in a third if it meant the destruction of that ship. Fabian took a deep breath and yelled. “Sam, hold fire!” The woman just glanced at him, her expression not having changed at all. The pilot didn't like it. His eyes went up and followed the engineer going down the ladder, hurrying to the armor module to fix all the strain on it. Fabian then put the ship in a slow dive, closing the distance to their crippled enemies on the ground. Ordering again to the woman. “Hold your fire.” This time, he got more reaction. Samantha turning to him with a frown, but no confirmation whether she would adhere. He shook his head and her foul expression only increased. “Please take over Edison.” The engineer's eyes went up from the module to the helm, then rushed over to relieve the pilot. “I got it mate.” The man quietly said as he took over.
Fabian almost stomped over to the woman. Once there he took her wrists, pulled them up, forcing her to let go of the weapon, and frowned just as foul back. “I said hold your fire. Have trouble understanding that?” Her eyes did not turn away, a staring contest ensued, as she answered the pilot. “I have no trouble understanding. But they should be wrecked and left there.” “Left to die you mean? I don't agree with that. I will not have dead people on my name in my first week of owning this ship!” He stated fiercely. The two stared some more, Samantha not answering. She then closed her eyes, letting him win and pushed herself away from him. Defeated she softly responded. “Fine. I will not fire at them. But it better be worth it.”
Fabian sighed in return, shaking his head as he went to the main deck. The leftover hull just coming into view. The balloon of the defeated Pyramidion having fallen of the ship onto the ground below. The enemy crew standing there, unarmed, their arms up and their gazes lowered. Edison had done a good job of putting the ship right next to theirs. Allowing people to easily cross over to the either ship. Sam, meanwhile, sat down on the edge beside the Flamethrower. Her eyes fixed on the four people. Fabian took a deep breath and said to them. “I will not kill you now. You have been defeated and I think that's a loss enough as it is. However, I have some rules that need to be established. If you break them, you will lose more. First of all, any attempt on hijacking this ship is forbidden, if you do. You will most likely not survive. Second, what's on your ship is now mine. Supplies, food, money. The only exception being you and your clothes. Third, you will listen to all of us. And last, do not complain. See us as kind hosts willing to put you off in a town. Don't make us not be kind.” The only woman of the defeated crew stepped forward, looking up to the man that stood just a small gap away. “I admit my defeat and surrender. You're kind to allow us on your ship and bring us to the next town.” She politely stated. Fabian nodded once and he said. “You have permission to come aboard.”
The four then helped get their stuff across. Their every moment observed and taken in by at least Samantha or Fabian. When they were done, the four bridged the gap and got onto the main deck. It was at this point that Samantha got on her feet and slowly approached them, observing them. Looking intently at them. Until she found the one thing that had caught her interest. With a few steps she got up to the defeated pilot and grinned. Taking hold of the black spectacles the woman was wearing. Carefully Sam took them of and put them on her own face. The grin not leaving her face as she quietly said to her. “Thank you.” At a distance Fabian saw it happen. And quietly allowed it to.
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Just needed to write something, been a while but I figured I'll write on how my character started on his journey. I may as well write a second piece, expanding on a flashback in the Burning Skies.
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The Central Market, the largest business and commercial zone of Chang-ning is hustling and bustling as citizens from all classes make their way around the market. Vehicles line the streets picking up or dropping off passengers to making deliveries to the different stores. Shouts are heard as stall owners compete with one another for the attention of local buyers.
Today seems like any other day, noon is approaching as cafes and restaurants start setting up for the lunch rush. People are coming and going buying anything that catches interest to their eye. Suddenly a distant rumbling noise can be heard. Stopping what they are currently doing, heads turn to the incoming sound. Down the street a small dust cloud can be seen, growing bigger as it approaches the section of the Market. Adding to the rumbling noise, shouts and screams of terror can be heard as the dust cloud comes into view. Kicking up the dust is a herd of cattle stampeding down the street. Leading in the front are two young men in their early twenties running for their lives and yelling for people to get off the streets.
Quickly complying, the crowd of people rush to the side and inside the buildings or into their vehicles. The stampede continues down the street knocking down stalls, outdoor dining tables, to damaging the vehicles still in the streets. In the ensuing chaos, some men brave the cattle and rush into the stampede hoping to wrestle down a few of the beasts and slowing down the herd. Soon, either the few people that entered to slow down the herd or the cattle simply ran out of energy, the stampede dies down and the cattle are seen stopping and looking for water.
As the dust settles, people are coming out of the safety of the buildings and take in sight before them. Litter along the streets are the remains of stalls and their different wares. Out in the distance, a new sound emerges, not that of running cattle but of cherry sirens. Responding to a call during the stampede, the Imperial Police is quickly dispatched to straighten out the situation.
For the two men that were in front of the stampede, they are at the end of the destruction. The two, all dusty and battered, look at one another and laugh. Patting each others back and a few exchange of words, they hear the incoming sirens and their faces drop. Looking at the direction to where the sirens are coming from, the pair look at one another before giving a fist bump and running off in two directions.
~Twelve Minutes Earlier~
"This is idiotic, why did you make me agree anyway?"
"One, this is going to be fun. And two I'm your best friend and you will follow me everywhere."
Two young men, both twenty-one, are sneaking down along a wall. Currently they are by the cattle housing for the auction house for livestock.
"I don't always follow you everywhere," says the doubtful friend,"and the last time you said it would be 'fun' we almost burned down the Archives with those fireworks."
Finding a low enough wall, one of the two clasp his hands together and lifts the other's foot so that he can get on top of the wall. Sitting comfortable on the edge, the one on the wall lowers one of his arms so that the one on the ground can be pulled up. Now with the pair sitting on the wall, they hop down to the other side where they see a herd of grazing cattle.
"Ok, I'll admit that was a stupid idea, but this one is harmless. We are just going cow tipping, nothing dangerous about it."
"Fine, I'll go along with this, but seriously where do you come up with these ideas. I'm starting to question your mental state."
"You've been questioning my sanity since we've been thirteen. And you are the one to talk, I mean you hang out with your cousin who works with a mercenary guild."
"That's a job with occupational hazards, what we are doing is childish."
"Yada yada, you say potato I say potatoe, almost the same thing." he says with a roll of his eyes, "Hey there's a good one, ready?"
"Alright then, ok I'm ready."
"On the count of three.....1,2,3!"
With a heave, the pair pushes the cattle over. A startled moo escapes from the mouth of the mammal.
Chuckling, the doubtful friend says to the other, "That was fine I have to admit."
"Good, we got a few more todo."
For the next five minutes, the duo has knocked over at least a handful of cattle. Slightly sweating and laughing at the beasts, they are about to walk out until they feel a heavy snort on the back of their neck. Stopping and slowly turning around, they are faced with a giant bull staring down at the two, more so at the doubtful friend.
The first friend follow the eyes of the bull and to where he was starting at. There he sees that his friend has a red dust scarf around his neck.
Still not moving from his spot, the first friend says to his second, "Uk Niko, please tell me you are not wearing a red scarf and that the bull is not real and ready to kill us"
Gulping, Niko replies," Um ok, I'm not wearing a red scarf and that there is no bull ready to kill us."
"Hmm, it doesn't look that way, I can sees the bull still staring at us. I know, while the bull has his attention on you, I'll go and find some help. Ok just stay put."
The first friend starts to back away slowly, not taking his eyes off the bull. Reaching a distance that seems safe, he turns and starts to run.
"BdrLine? Bdr? Azn!?," turning around, Niko sees that his friend has booked it. Staring back to the bull, he sees that his eyes has turn red and growls making Niko turn and run.
The load growl startles the rest of the herd as they see the alpha bull running off in one direction. Following the leader, the rest soon goes off into a gallop into a full run.
Back to the running two, Niko catches up to BdrLine who is trying to open the gate.
"Nice trying to find help and leaving me."
"Now is not the time Niko."
"Just get that thing open," turning back he sees that instead of the single bull the whole herd is rushing towards them. Going wide eye, he says to his friend, "Hurry up Bdr!! We got a bigger problem!!"
Looking up from the lock to the scene before him, he goes wide eye as well. Fumbling with the lock, BdrLine works with his pick trying to get it open. With a click, the lock opens and BdrLine tears off the lock from the door opening it. Running out of the open door, Niko and BdrLine starts off down the road, unknowingly towards the Central Market.
As they run, the duo screams to people they pass by.
"Look out, stampede!"
"Get off the streets if you value your lives!"
"Watch out, run away cattle!"
In the background, they can hear a very loud scream and almost make out someone saying something about cabbages.
Not looking back at carnage they are leaving, they spot a telephone pole and quickly race up to escape the herd. Hanging on, the herd pass underneath them and soon they slow to a stop.
Climbing down, the two sweep off some of the dust they gathered and turn to each other. Bursting into uncontrollable laughter and have to hold to one another. Patting their back, they wipe off some of their tears.
Giving a sigh of relieve, Niko says to BdrLine, "Ahh okay, that was fun. Didn't like almost getting killed again, but fun."
"See I told you, got to trust me Niko."
As they continue to laugh again, they stop as they hear a oh so familiar sound. Turning to the direction, the every growing cherry sirens comes near. Looking at one another for the last time, they give a quick fist bump and run off in different directions.
Leaving the scene, BdrLine sees the damages that has been done. Groaning to himself, he runs down the road of destruction hoping not to be caught.
Oh this is going to cost mom and dad a lot
Soon he hears voices behind him and assume that the police has figured who have done it and is now chasing him.
"ZHAOOO, come back here. You won't get away this time!!"
Oh great, it's Chief Dye. He had to come as well.
BdrLine yells back, "Hey there Chief, nice seeing you here. But I have a explanation for this."
"Then stop running so we can bring you in!"
"Hey, I didn't say that I did this all I said was I have an explanation. I do love to stay and chat, but I don't feel like staying in my usual room. So cya"
Taking an alleyway, BdrLine jumps and hides into a dumpster. He listen and waits as footsteps heads into the alley and stops.
"Where'd he go?"
"I don't know. Come on, he shouldn't have gotten far."
As soon as the footsteps fades away, he comes out of his hiding spot and runs off the opposite of the officers.
That was a close one. I don't think they ate going to let this one slide.
"There he is! Get him!"
"Oh flak."
Seeing that he has been spotted, BdrLine goes off into another sprint. He soon finds himself to the docks that connects to the Central Market and finds a Junker about to leave. Finding that the cost is clear of police, BdrLine runs across the docks and jumps on board. Standing on the deck, BdrLine look back at the dock and finds that the police are now searching the area
Wiping his forehead, he gives a sigh of relief, "Whew that was close."
"What was close.", a voice behind him says.
Startled, BdrLine turns around and find himself staring at a elder man.
"Oh um nothing."
The man, presumably the captain of the ship, looks over BdrLine's shoulder and notices the police searching the docks.
"I doesn't look like its nothing. Looks like some police trouble. Now I have half of my mind telling me to go back and turn you in."
BdrLine's face pale at the sight of having to face the consequences.
"But I'm a little undermanned at the moment, so unless you are good with tools, I'll turn a blind eye."
"Tools and machinery? I can handle that, I did a bit of mechanical work from time to time."
The captain then goes over and picks up a tool belt on top of a crate and toss it to him.
"Good, now check my main engine. She's been sputtering lately. And what's your name lad if your are going to work with me."
Catching the tool belt, BdrLine clasp it around his waist and turns to the captain, "Azn Zhao, but people calls me BdrLine."
"Well Azn Zhao, but people calls me BdrLine, names Zankief. Now go and check that engine. I want to be at Ho Tower in two days."
"Aye aye."
Giving a mock salute BdrLine heads down to the bottom deck and starts his work. Not know that it's the start of a new adventure.
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Bdr, May I incorporate that into my RP doc?
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Go ahead, also I changed my character's age to a few years back so that it will match when I redo the flashback.
In one of the Skies stories, I made him around 27, I age him back to 24
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Nice one Samatha! Definatly don't want to be in your sights.
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Bdr... wow... made me laugh!
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Ok, sorry if its kinda crappy. Really new to this kind of stuff
"So you want to my story? Why not, I got time".
I was born in Nalm. Raised like any other poor kid there. Worked with my father when I was old enough to at least earn some coin. I left home at 17. Honestly, It was in pursuit of of the Elites daughters. I thought if I could make something of myself and get behind those walls, not as a laborer but as one of the Elites, she would marry me. What? You want her name? Honestly I have drunken myself to the point I barely remember anyone from that accursed place. But as you can see, I obviously did not make it behind those walls. So onward with the story, I found work at a Gun Smith. I always loved guns and learned everything I could being a lower class in Nalm. We have very few books, but there are always spare guns and parts for ships that come through. I worked until I had enough coin to buy my own ship. Well make is a more appropriate term. It was a junker but it got the job done. It took a few years but when I got I didn't know where to begin. 19 years old, my own ship I have no clue how to fly, and no knowledge of other places to go trade with. I looked around town, mainly the bars, and got help. I was an expert gunner but everything else to do on a ship I couldn't do. A few days after I got the crew together, The Gun Smith gave us our first assignment. A friend of his had acquired some Hades Light Cannons. Those would see big and we were tasked to pick them up. His friend was in Sarin and thankfully it was to far from Nalm. My first time away from home. It was so exciting I couldnt believe it. The first day and night on our voyage went smoothly, The food was good and the ale was strong. We though this was going to be an easy task and a great way to start our Merchant business. Boy, were we wrong. About noon the second day we were ambushed by pirates. The junker I built only had two side guns, and those I had to haggle from the Gun Smith I was helping. The did little damage to the pirates Pyramidions. They latched on, and killed the captain. The Pirates captain gave us an ultimatum, Join him or die. The other two crew members chose death, not wanting to destroy their honor. Myself I enjoyed life to much and joined the Pirates. Captain Roberts was his name. Honestly not a bad guy but after three years a militia from Nalm got us. I jumped ship and started walking through the desert. A merchant ship found me a few days later and offered me transport back to Nalm. Gratefully I accepted. Returning to my home, I went to the taverns. Turns out Captain Roberts wasn't the only person from the pirate crew that was known. A lot of people talked about a gunner on the crew who was an expert marksman. That gunner of course was me. So now Im doing mercenary work, found a merchant Galleon that needed a good gunner and thats how I ended up here in the Burning Skies Saloon. The Galleon captain pays good, but there is always someone who pays better. Oh, my outfit? You are wondering why I choose to wear this? Well its simple, Captain Roberts was Japanese. He required everyone to wear Samurai like outfits. It represented power and control. Something we had. But thats all in the past and the outfit kinda grew on me. So I just kept wearing it. Now that's my story, If there is anything else I can help you with I will be happy to help, for the right coin of course.
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Nice story, I enjoyed the narrative and the way that I could picture you sat there in front of me in a bar telling me your story =D
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Good evening to you too, my friend.
No, I don't mind. Please, have a seat. Can I offer you a glass of wine? No? Very well.
So what was makes you disturb that reading chap in the corner of the tavern? You don't seem like a captain looking for a crew and I know I don't seem like a jack looking for work, so was it the nobleman's garb or the book on cellular physiology? I do admit that neither of them is a very common sight down here.
Just want to know my story? That's fine, curiosity never killed anyone. Well, it actually has killed quite a few but that's beside the point. It's actually pretty much what brought me here, you see? “The pursuit of knowledge.” Has quite the ring to it when you say it that way, doesn't it?
I come from an old noble family in the Fjord Baronies. Don't bother asking for the name, you wouldn't know it. There are so many houses, every peasant in the Baronies can find some noble blood somewhere in his ancestry.
My house was one of the unlucky ones. One of those that used to be great and powerful but made a few bad choices along the way. Nowadays all my family does is swagger through a crumbling castle, pretending that they're still as big as they used to be. Clinging to a dream world and trying to polish a facade that didn't fool any one.
I know I shouldn't complain. Life as a baron comes with a lot of amenities. I had a personal tutor, a fencing master, I even went to the College of Physiology at Ravenrook, but what use is it if you freeze to death because you can't afford the petroleum to keep the heaters running in winter?
I wish I could say that I tried to change things, I wish I'd tried to restore my family's former glory but I didn't. It's a great feeling, being part of a bloodline that stretches back until before the Great War, you know? And that history is all my house has left. If I had admitted that those centuries of adhering to tradition had ruined our house, I would have thrown all that away. So I ran with it.
My brother would inherit the lands and titles and I was to become a physician. I'm fairly glad that I was born second. Don't like politics, never did. Prefer to keep to myself.
Funny thing to say, right? A physician who doesn't like people, that's not a very reassuring thought, is it?
Don't get me wrong, medicine is a fascinating subject. I'm still reading books on it, as you can see. Again, it's the people who are the problem. Most of those doctors see their profession as an art form rather than a field of science. It's all just about making a diagnosis and administering the right cure. Nobody seems to care why an inflammation of the liver makes your skin turn yellow or why newts can regrow their limbs but humans can't. There is no curiosity involved what so ever, and when you try to find out yourself they expulse you.
Don't look at me like that! Nobody got injured. Well, depends on how you define “injured”.
So that's essentially why I left the Baronies. For the pursuit of knowledge. I try to find people who know more than I do and listen to what they have to say. And when I do my own research I don't have to wait for authorisation from some fusty committee.
I quit the university... three years ago? Feels like so much longer. You say I look older? Yes, I hear that a lot.
I'm no doctor, gods no. Don't actually want to be associated with that bunch, but I'm probably the closest you'll find in this city.
I get by rather well by patching up overly enthusiastic powder monkeys or riggers who fell from the ropes. And when nobody needs patching up, I patch up the ship.
I have by no means the same knowledge of engines as a trained mechanic or a shipwright, but a basic understanding of physics can get you quite far. You'd be surprised how many technicians I had to tell not to work on electrical devices with metal tools while the current is switched on- You know not to do that, right? Please tell me you do.
You really look like you could use a drink. Go ahead and try the wine. I can't understand the craze about that moonshine you lot keep drinking all the time. All it's good for is sanitising wounds and studying the mechanisms of blindness.
That's pretty much all there is to say about me. You look like quite the character yourself, so what's your story?
This is a great thread, and I finally had a reason to elaborate my character.
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Pantaleon, Your story put a huge smile on your face.. just the picture of a posh British gentlemen in a tavern sipping whine, surrounded by bulky, dirty engineers chugging moonshine as the gent reads his book and sips his wins, someone from the gallery! get on drawing this scene!
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Heh, thank you! I was pretty much grinning to myself the entire time while writing it.
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Pantaleon, Your story put a huge smile on your face.. just the picture of a posh British gentlemen in a tavern sipping whine, surrounded by bulky, dirty engineers chugging moonshine as the gent reads his book and sips his wins, someone from the gallery! get on drawing this scene!
Wow, I could not spell Wine that whole post....
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I know the feeling.
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So, just something that I've had in mind for a while, I'll probably write another entry later.
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The thick coin spun rapidly in midair.
It was golden, the light from the flames showing the gleam that only true gold can, shining through the muck and grime that covered most of it. Time slowed while the coin flipped to its apex, and through the stench and heat of burning fuel which burned his nostrils, through the haze of smoke and the blood from the cut on his forehead he tried to make out the figure who had thrown it. Laying face down on the slick wooden deck of the ruined junker, all but one arm and head buried by rubble, he tried to reach to rub his eyes but found he no longer had the strength to. He licked his lips, meaning to work moisture back into his mouth, staring at the indistinct figure behind the coin, the figure who remained shrouded in the starry sky behind the flames. The figure stood still, as if waiting, anticipating something.
And then the coin fell, bouncing on edge in front of his eyes that peered into the darkness beyond, with a noise that boomed through his head, startling and pulling him out of his trance-like gaze. The boots of the figure spun, moon shining off the polished blackness. The feet that wore it hesitated for a fraction of a moment as if the owner of them had been disappointed, and then they strode away, off into the night.
The coin bounced once, twice more, then rolled in a circle before stopping in front his face. The flames continued to burn away the fuel in the mangled engines, and slowly the rest of the remains of the ship started to crackle and pop, the flames smoldering and advancing towards him slowly but surely. Suddenly the weight of the debris on top of him was even greater, and his meek struggles to free himself worked only to collapse it more. He stopped, closed his eyes, and concentrated on his breathing. He blocked out the acrid fumes, focusing only on the movement on his lungs, and the calm came over him after a few moments. His eyes snapped open, the world suddenly bright, the flames so intense now that he nearly recoiled from the the pain in his eyes. He forced himself to focus on the coin in front of him, the light flickering around the imperfect grooves around the edges of it tantalizingly, in a manner that was dark and alluring. The coin begged to be held, and he would oblige.
He would not die here. The owner of that coin would pay.
The owner of that coin must pay.
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Nicely done, Imagine! Evokes great emotions. No unnecessary descriptions of backstory or environment, they would only have seemed clunky and out of place. The main character knows his ship, why should he bother explaining it? I like the pacing, the imagery and the captivating plot.
I'm looking forward to see how this pans out!
(Sorry if this got too analytical, it might be an occupational disease ;) )
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A little bit more stuff. It's actually a lot more difficult to write a story where the main character isn't referred to by name, makes it harder to not confuse readers as to whose action is taking place. Maybe I should've written it in the first person? Ah well, probably too late for that now. Slightly different format as well, I guess.
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*3 days before the event*
The sun's morning rays beat at the shuttered window, slithering through the cracks and burned at his eyelids. He stirred after a moment, bringing his hands to block out the brightness of the morning. Too early, it was much to early to be up this early.
"I'll really have to get that fixed one of these days..." he muttered, peering out from behind his fingers, glaring sleepily at the shutters. After several months of residence in this particular room, the season was finally beginning to turn to where it would become an everyday ordeal, and would only get worse as the days wore on.
He turned over, burying his face into the rough pillow, the morning stubble on his face scratching irritatingly. He rolled once more, scratching his chin. The morning so far had not gone in his favor, but too much had gone wrong so far to make any good attempt at falling back asleep. His thoughts would only flutter between cursing the sun, the pillow, his hair, and perhaps would roll into the regrets one has about life when they start to have nothing to do but remember things. He groaned and unwound himself from the thin blanket that had tangled up during the morning's ordeal, tossing off to the side. He stood, glaring down at the blanket, and stomped over to the washbasin to, at the very least, scrub the grime from his face, maybe even shave on this morning. He wasn't the type who shave too often, even a week's worth of growth would barely show, but he tried anyways; he often felt it had made him at least seem older, and less likely to be dismissed as a young novice. He was halfway through the morning ritual, when the banging on his door began, forceful and with urgency.
"Hey, you in there? Captain's calling for all hands, something about a new job!" came the yell from the other side, gruff and grating to the ears, even when muffled by a solid wooden door.
"Great, just great." He mumbled to himself, throwing the small towel he was holding across his neck, both sides draping across the front of his chest. He shuffled over to the door, moving lethargically from one end of the room to the other. Too early, much too early for any of this. The banging at the door began again, and the voice started calling out once more, with more force this time. "Hey! Wake u---"
He flung to door open angrily, staring at Carl, face in a grimace. Carl was several inches taller than him, shoulders wide and fit, bushy mustache combed neatly over his upper lip. Compared to Carl he was spindly, even with the rigors of working airship routes he never was able to pack on as muscle as some other crewmen. He was fine with this most of the time, often he was able to reach places others could not, could slink through a crowd to disappear when needed, but in moments like this, standing half naked and close up to someone of Carl's build, the differences were noticeably stark. A small pang of jealousy twitched through his head, but he re-doubled his efforts to frown at Carl's early morning disturbance.
"What." He said, making sure Carl knew it was a statement, not a question.
Carl paused for a moment, and glancing at the hand greeting him, still holding the razor he had in his hand, up in an almost threatening position. The edge had caught the morning sun, gleaming menacingly. Fantastic, he though, this morning just keeps getting better by the second. He flipped the razor closed, and tucked it into his waistband, putting his arms down to his side. Yes, the morning hadn't gotten off to a terrific start, but Carl's wasn't really at fault, he reminded himself. The frown on his face, however, remained steadfast.
"Ah, well, yes," Carl quickly recovered and continued on, speaking through the mustache that hid is mouth. "Didn't know you were awake. Captain's got some sort of new job lining up, wants us formed up to go over details."
"This early?" He responded exasperatedly.
It was a valid question. Too many crewmen would still be recovering from the night before, in ways that only the ones who flew the skies could think of. Crewmen had not the best record for being the right of mind, though much of that was usually over exaggerated by those who thought of the profession of something as wild and dangerous; in truth most of the time it was dull and lackluster. Only in brief flashes was it as it was romanticized, and most crewmen reveled in the attention telling of stories from grand battles they had partaken in. Why, one could even make a decent amount of coin, if not just complimentary drinks at inns that would fill when a good storyteller was weaving a tale. He suspected that half of those telling tales had never even been in battles themselves; the details were often glaringly wrong.
"Just passing the word." Carl shrugged with his entire upper body. "It's been a while we had something good come along, we've hardly been scraping by with these meager trade runs recently."
It was true. Many months had passed since the job in Firnfeld, hired to help drive out bandits harassing trade routes. It had been good pay, certainly, but he suspected the crew's funds were dipping rather low by now, and the occasional local cargo delivery had been barely enough to cover the cost of the trips. The crew was restless, he could tell that even the Captain was itching for something with more action. He had hoped she hadn't made some foolish rash decision to satiate her appetite for adventure, but she was level headed enough to think these things through. Usually.
He sighed, releasing his frown, and put his hands up dejectedly.
"Fine, fine, whatever. I'll finish up here," he said, pointing at his face, still lathered with now quickly drying shaving foam, "and I'll be down in a minute."
Carl nodded, then half-smirked.
"Don't forget a shirt." he said, then turned briskly, large feet storming the morning dust from the floorboards in his wake. He readied a quip to fire at Carl, but though better of it.
"A bad morning indeed." He muttered to himself, and pulled the door closed.
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Okay sorry for the length, by this has been on my mind for the past 8 hours. As I said in my first post, this is the flashback I wanted to expand on.
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~Present~
Anvala, Western District
After a day of testing with the new incendiary rounds that her brother has made at the Academy's gun range, Ny-Lee and Azn walks out of the main campus towards his docks at the Western District. With the rifle strapped over her shoulder, a thought has been on her mind since she first docked in Anvala. Next to her, Azn is carrying the crate with the rounds that they didn't fire. Lost in the depths of his mind, BdrLine compels whether or not to tinker with the mixture or to change any aspect of the round
He mumbles to himself, "Hmm what if I add more Dragon Peppers, will the flames become bigger? Or the gunpowder, add more while I take away a fraction of the peppers? I may have to ask Yiski," to his sister, "What do you think Ny. ... Ny?"
Shaken from her thought, Ny-Lee looks to answer, "Huh what? Say again, I didn't hear."
Scrunching his eyebrows, BdrLine looks over his sister. She shrinks a little from his stare.
"You okay Ny?"
"Ye-yeah I'm fine, let's just get to your house."
Looking over at her one more time, he shrugs his shoulder as the pair enters the entrance to the docks.
Nearing his docks section as well to her current place of residence, the thought comes over her again. Curling her lips, she opens her mouth to speak.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, shoot," he say while not taking his eyes off the street."
"Well... Azn what did happen to you after your call from Ho Tower?"
Stopping in his tracks at the question, he stares off towards the setting sun as he wonder his mind back. Without looking, he walks towards a bench and sits while still digging brain. Following her brother, Ny-Lee takes a seat next to him.
"As you know it was two days after the whole Market Debacle that I arrived at He and radioed back home."
Listening, Ny-Lee nods as Azn continues.
"Basically after the call, I spent the next few months traveling under the same captain I met from when I escaped. We spent the majority of our time around the Wastes, going as far north to Hanat to Sanctuary in the south. During that time, I've spent expanding and mastering my engineering, and I was in no short supply of contraptions to work my hands on."
"It was simple and adventurous, but there is one particular event that I remember well. It started at Yunin where we met my old pen-pal from the Baronies. He and a few of his men were on leave from his military and wanted to travel around with us. During that time, we already got a job to transport goods to Nalm, so he tagged along as our scout. First leg from Yunin to Bajad went by smoothly, it was after that was different...
~Three Annums Ago~
Dunes en route to Nalm
The sun is high and nigh as the only sounds that BdrLine hears is the roar of the engines and the whistling of the wind. Lying on some crates down in the second deck of the Junker, he relaxes during the lull in his routine repair rounds. As he is about to drift into a nap, a nudge on his shoulder prompt him to open an eye. Standing over him is another deckhand, slightly older than him.
Groaning, "Agh, what is it Ren? Can't I have some rest."
"Sorry Bdr, but captain wants ya. Says your friend is on the radio."
Sitting up and getting off his makeshift bed, he follows Ren up the ramp leading back to the main deck. As they exit the holeand round the corner, BdrLine sees that the helm is manned by their third deckhand and their captain on the radio. Walking towards the radio, Zankief looks up as he hears the approaching footsteps.
"Yeah, he's here," he says to the receiver. Zankief then hands. over the headset to BdrLine.
BdrLine takes the headset and places it on his head. As he is about to speak, Zankief says to him, "Don't know why he only talks to you, I mean I am the captain of this ship. Something is wrong in your friends head Bdr, it feels like he doesn't trust me."
Smirking, BdrLine places a hand over the receiver and replies back, "Maybe it's because you said that you're from the Guild. Remember that conflict between them annums back."
"I said that I run a warehouse in the Guild. I don't even look like a native Guildsman, I'm from Boomtown for flak sakes."
Shrugging his shoulders, "Hey maybe he'll warm up to you, have another friend of sorts."
Zankief shakes his head as rolls his as he waves Bdr over.
Still smirking, BdrLine takes his hand off the receiver and talk to the Squid's captain.
"So Bertram what is it now?"
"Told you how many times, don't use my first name. Sounds too awkward and fancy. And wipe that smile I can feel it from here."
"Alright, alright" , he says chuckling, "So Melin, what do you need to tell me when you could have said Zankief. He's a good guy you know."
"I'm just a little weary of people from the Guild, even if there is a truce after the conflict. But just wanted to tell you so far we find nothing on radar and maybe a hour, two tops, until we hit Nalm."
"Okay, I'll relay that to the others. Thank the Gods we have you guys on this run, your radar really helps out."
"Yeah, tell me again how the one on your ship got busted?"
"Oh umm hehe, a minor fire erupted from some misconnections."
"Really... I'll just update you if we get anything, Melin out."
"Hold on Melin, just tell Zankief. Don't have me asking to you all the time. Also he says he is from Boomtown, so drop that paranoia."
Sighing, "Alright Bdr, out."
As the radio goes silent, he places the headset back down on the radio. Facing back towards the main deck he spots Zankief holding a clipboard and inspecting the crates. He looks up from the board and sees that BdrLine is finish and motions him to come over.
"So, what's the message."
"Skies are clear and we should be at Nalm around two."
"Gonna be ahead of schedule I see, extra money for us then. Go and take the helm from Lupez, he needs a little break."
Groaning at the irony of the situation as he was suppose to be on break, BdrLine does as he is told and reliefs Lupez.
Soon an hour has pass and a small sandstorm hits the travellers. Wearing thicker clothing along with goggles and bandanas, the entire crew of the Junker race about tying down loose crates.
On the Squid the crew adorns similar clothing to combat the incoming sand. While Melin and two others of his crew work on keeping sand out of their engines, Frey, the fourth crewman and second in command of the ship hears and notices two blips on radar.
He shouts over the storm, "Melin, we have targets on radar."
On the platform fixing the top port engine, Melin barely hears Frey shouts. He motions to him by bringing a hand up to his ear and shaking his head. Dropping his tools and jumping off the platform to the helm, Melin leans in.
"What did you say?"
"Sir, we have two blips that came up on radar and coming towards our position fast."
"Keep tracking, I'll inform the Junker."
With a nod, Frey turns back to the radar as Melin turns his radio on, "Hey BdrLine, Captain Zankief, anyone. We just picked up two ships on radar, it looks like they are coming to our position. Might want to get some weapons ready if they are hostile."
Unfortunately for Melin no one on the Junker was near the radio and miss the message. He continues to relay until someone has picked up and acknowledges him. But as fast as the blips come on the radar, they disappear from view. With a confused look, Frey taps Melin on the shoulder who looks over while still relaying the message.
"Hello, anyone ther...what the?"
Through his headphones, Melin hears a voice comes through, "What the what Captain Melin."
"Ah Captain Zankief, finally someone answers."
"Sorry, just battering down the hatches. So what seems to be the problem."
"Well we did just had two blips show up on our radar."
"What do you mean by had."
Before Melin can answer his question reports can be heard from the sandstorm as shells explode around the two ships. Screeching into view are two Pyramidions intent to kill. The first Pyramidion charges towards the Junker with guns blazing as the pops of a light flak firing fills the area. The crew of the Junker hit the deck as shrapnel from when the rounds explode flies around them.
While the first Pyramidion attacks the Junker, the second tries to ram the Squid, but Melin manages to lift his ship up in time. As this Pyramidion overshoots underneath Melin, he quickly turns his ship around and flies over the enemy with a pass with the starboard flame thrower. Not doing a sufficient amount of damage, the crew of the Pyramidion quickly extinguish the flames and gives chase to the Squid into the depths of the sandstorm.
Back on board the Junker, Zankief drops the headset from the radio and rushes to the helm as he tries to manoeuvre out of the ram. Putting the engines into full speed, he watches as the enemy comes closer to his port side.
"Ah flak. EVERYONE BRACE FOR IMPACT!!"
With a thunderous crack, the beak of the Pyramidion connects with the midsection of the Junker knocking down any loose material as well as the ship and crew. Disoriented, BdrLine struggles to get up on his feet as he hears Zankief ordering Ren and Lupez to man the port side guns. As the enemy reverses after the ram, BdrLine sees people on the top scaffolding reloading their weapons.
"Bdr!", knocking out of his daze, he turns to Zankief shouting at him, "Get ready for repairs, they look like they mean business."
Looking back at the enemy and at Zankief, he can only give a slight nod as shaking hands goes over his tool belt.
"Good, go and try to salvage what hull we have on our mid-port, that ram did us good. Ren, Lupez, are the guns ready! We need to act now!"
Stumbling, he complies and rush to the damaged section. As Zankief manoeuvres forward to get out of the front guns of the Pyra, their guns open fire again, this time accompany with gatling fire. Taking cover in the hole, BdrLine covers his ears as the sounds of explosions and bullets hitting hull ring through his ears. As the firing dies down, he assumes they are reloading and pulls out a mallet to straighten out the dented metal sheets.
Soon their own ship returns fire with a gatling of their own along with a banshee. During the reload of the Pyramidion's guns, Zankief manages to get out of the front arcs and onto their port side. With his guns firing he can see holes tracing along the wooden deck of the enemy as well as small fires springing out from the banshee.
"Keep it up boys, don't let up. BdrLine how's our hull?"
Deeply breathing, he comes out from the hole and tries to answer back, "She's... Fine, we can... Take a few more... Hits."
"Whoa, calm down and keep your head straight, we can't lose you in this."
"Roger, Zankief", he says as he place a hand over his chest.
Another explosion hits the Junker as a hissing sound can be heard from the balloon. The crew looks up and see a few holes embedded in the fabric.
Zankief turns his head back to the Pyramidion and sees a carronade shooting at the balloon, "FLAK ALL OF THIS, Ren try and put some holes into that gunner. Bdr you need to climb up there and patch it up, if that goes, we all go. Got it?"
Going wide eyed, he looks at the balloon and to the ground, "Are you mad!? What if I lose my footing and fall."
"If you don't fix it we are all falling no matter what. Now get to it! Dont you crack Bdr, our lives depend on it!"
As the carronade continues to shred the balloon, Ren and Lupez fires at the deck prompting those to take cover. As the two provide covering fire, BdrLine grabs patches of cloth as well as a roll-tacker and climbs the rigging. Reaching the top, slinging an arm through one of the top ropes and starts to sew the covers over the holes. Completing one patch job, he shimmy to the next hole and to the next. As he reaches the last hole, a blinding light shines making him drop the roll-tacker onto the deck.
As Ren and Lupez suppress the enemy crew, one of them braves the fire and runs to the flare gun. Turning to have their crosshairs on the man, he fires the flare blinding those on the Junker. With this distraction, another man fires the carronade and start shooting at the balloon again, nearly hitting BdrLine in the process.
With the light fading away, hanging on to the rigging, BdrLine sees new holes in the fabric. Looking down at the deck he spots the roll-tacker as well as the nearing ground. Closing his eyes and breathing a deep breath, he unhooks his arm from the rigging and jumps to an adjacent room connecting to the hull.
Hitting the deck with a thud, he rolls around before getting on his feet to the roll-tacker. Grabbing new rolls of cloths, he starts to climb up the rigging again.
From the banshee, Lupez looks over the deck and sees the ground racing to meet them. "Cap, 500 meters until splat."
"Keep firing we can't lose this. Come one Bdr, you got this."
As the two ships continue to fire at one another, the Junker is still dropping out of the sky as the enemy keeps pace.
With the ground almost insight, Zankief notices something on the Pyramidion. "Lupez, Ren, concentrate everything at the boiler on the deck. This is out last shot."
Reloading their weapons a new volley of bullets and rockets starts to hit the enemy boiler. Seeing this, the enemy pilot tries to rise out of the incoming fire until a banshee rocket hits the main tank. With a explosion, it rips a hole on the starboard side of the Pyramidion as power drains out. With the power out, the engines and balloon pump slowly stops working. With the advantage, the two gunners fire without discrimination until the enemy turns into a hunk of metal on the desert floor.
With the skirmish over, BdrLine has time to patch the remaining holes. After the last one covered, he slowly slides down a rope back down to the deck. Once back on somewhat solid ground, he collapse and land on his rear as hands race through his hair. Deeply breathing, he doesn't feel Zankief walk up behind him and raise him up.
"You alright? Never been under fire huh. You did well today Bdr, saved the ship and our lives."
"What did I get myself into? I heard of stories of bandits and raiders from my mother's travels, I didn't expect myself to be in a battle between one!"
"Welcome to the current world we live in. What we have done the pass few months has been way too easy on you. You didn't expect us not to be attacked sooner or later during a contract."
"I don't think I can do this. If there is more of this to come, I may become worse than what I am during the battle. I may get the whole ship killed."
"Hey, you did fine today. And don't get that negative mambo jumbo in your head, keep thinking like that and you will be dead. Just stay calm and keep a clear mind and you will survive. Got that."
"Ye-yeah I guess so."
"No guess so, know so. Get that in your head Bdr. There will be more battle like these in the near future."
With a sigh, Zankief pats BdrLine on the back, "Just get some rest, I'll see if your friend is still there."
As he leaves BdrLine on the middle of the deck too think things over, Zankief returns to the radio and tries to contact Melin. As it turns out, Melin has taken care of his Pyramidion with ease thanks to the whole crew military training. Regrouping again, the ships continue on there journey to Nalm arriving half past two.
~Present~
Anvala, Western District
Still sitting on the same bench at the start of the story, the sky has turned to a light blue as the sun finally fades over the horizon.
"So once we arrived to Nalm, I turned to and say that I am going on my own way. He nods knowingly and hands me a piece of paper with a radio frequency saying that if I need anything just call. With a brief hug he hands me a good size pouch of coins as payment before he boards his Junker and I watch as he flies off with another contract."
"As I watch as the Junker flies away, Melin asks if I can travel with him for the duration of his leave. I decline saying that I will be find only my own. Same thing as I did with Zankief, I watch as he flies off away. Now on my own with both my friends going off in different directions, I do what I know what to do. For the next few weeks I find myself on different ships to different towns across the Burren offering my service."
"Soon I found myself here in Anvala during it's Spring Festival. It was pretty hectic as there were crowds of people from all over. Needless to say I found jobs repairing quite easily. The dock master of the time saw that I was handy with all the repairs and the business of the Festival and offered me a permanent spot here."
"So as you can see by me still being here, I accepted. Got the current dock section that I have now, along with a collection of workers and housing. After the learning experience of my first annum out of the Empire, the next two has been an interesting one. From meeting and crewing for Zill to finding the Saloon with Yiski and the others. And up to now, you know the rest."
During the whole story, Ny-Lee sits silently as she listen tentatively.
"Wow, I didn't know that you went through all that."
"Yeah, besides those who were with me, you are the only one who has heard of this story. I'm glad that I can let it all out, feels good you know," he ends with a chuckle.
"Heh, yeah." Ny-Lee looks up to the sky and notices the change. " Think we should be at your house now."
Looking up as well, BdrLine nods, "Yeah, come on, let's head back."
Standing up from their seats, BdrLine grabs the the crate again and leads them back to his place. Behind him, Ny-Lee eyes her brother with a little sense of respect.
-
Not much to tell (see also: work in progress, really should brush up on the full lore), my namesake was born to the Arashi clan and developed a love for mechanical tinkering at a young age, learning to make the most of sparse materials. Once the airships really started going up, she went with them.
Unfortunately, the first ship of her service crashed and she suffered a spinal injury that has caused her reaction time to suffer (Incorporating my lag as part of my character) as well as her performance as, well, anything on a ship. She still remains a very capable engineer, when push comes to shove, she can also take the helm or man the guns, but she's cripplingly dependent on specialized equipment to do her jobs to help compensate for her injuries, and she can only keep one loadout at a time while the rest needs to be stowed.
These days she works for anyone who will pay her, moving from ship to ship for her wages. Despite her chronic pains, spotty records, and tendency to be a sole survivor, she retains a fairly cheery disposition off duty and is not the sort to drink strong alcohol (with sanitized water being scarce though, she can't afford to be pick).
On deck though and when asked to stick to her specialty, she's extremely bossy and prone to forgetting whose really in charge. True to historical airplane engineers, she seems to think any ship she's working on is hers and not the captain's and gets very irate at more reckless and self destructive maneuvers or stunts. (And especially flying into death clouds)
That's all I got and most was made up on the fly.
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After coming back after a long while and not expecting anything new at the cantina, I saw this. Great job Sakura, and I like the thinking of including lag as a part of the character. ;)
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thank you, it harkens a bit back to my City of Heroes RP days when I would incorporate odd things into my characters, even applying lore from other people to my own.
I really am excited for Adventure Mode when we can actually sit and chat in towns and such, or at least on ships. (you know, might be cool to have "RP" matches where there's more focus on character and self-made stories than the actual mission.
Anyway though, I'm not 100% to read on the lore, so I tried to keep my namesake vague.
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There isn't much solid lore besides the factions, we have a map somewhere and there are only a few notable people that we know of IE: Sir Issac Phillips. So lore wise you should be fine.
-
In a water closet far, far away...
*flush*
"Ah. Haven't had a good poop like that in a while. Like a good, solid poop. Do crackers and corn have anything to do with that, ye think?"
A grumble from the short man who stands outside the water closet, with a distance between him and the toilets foul smell.
"Well, she's all yours now, Grum."
Another grumble, and the short man walked into the water closet. A groan of disgust came from the short mans lips as the door closed.
The small shack with the words "water closet" written on a small wooden sign stood out there in the desert, as these two men waited for their bowels to empty.
Then, a small dog started to run out of the whipping wind, towards the water closet.
"Grum?"
"What is it now, Louis?"
"There's a dog. Coming over here."
"And?"
"Well, Grum, I want you to take care of it for me."
"No."
"I'm sorry? No who?"
"No, sir."
"Figured."
Louis put his arms up and stretched. His long overcoat stretched down, and had rips in it left from his previous dogs. He always had a habit of taking a liking to dogs that bite, because he said that it meant they had moxy, or some other bollocks. The overcoat used to belong to an admiral, or someone who thought he was an admiral. You see, the previous owner was an absolute loony, who called himself "Admiral Mister" and would march around the streets drunk in this overcoat with it's carefully adorned buttons in gold, and it's dark blue cloth bringing the pins on the breast pocket out. But when the drunk admiral had it, the buttons were falling off, and the color turned into a dried out gray. The rips in the coat were smaller back then, thought Louis. How he missed his uncle.
The coat was in even more disrepair, with only one gold button hanging on, and a permanent smell of vomit and cheap liquor. What a lovely coat it was though, with its deep pockets and...
Actually this coat was awful, thought Louis.
Perhaps he needed to see a tailor...
*flush*
"Jesus, finally! I thought you had died in there!"
The door opened, and the short man looked up at Louis and scowled.
The short man walked away from the toilet, and Louis walked behind him.
Then, a scream tore through the air, and the short man fell down and clutched his leg in agony.
Louis calmly pulled out his revolver, another gift from his uncle, and briskly strolled towards where the shot came from. Another shot went out, hitting the short man again.
Then, two shapes appeared on the horizon and started to run.
Hah, you won't incapacitate another crew member of mine!
He pulled up his revolver, and pulled back the hammer.
Click.
Confused, then angry, Louis tilted the gun sideways, realizing that he forgot to buy bullets for the gun, seeing as they were dam expensive.
Ah well, what's good for the scavengers is good for society, he guessed.
He turned back around, and a ladder slowly descended.
"About god damned time, you filthy plebeian!"
The ladder remained there, and the short man slowly ascended the ladder.
"We are going to be late, but hey, that's our motto, right Grum?"
Another grumble.
"Well, hopefully this time I don't get bite by Charles dog."
-
I like this here post a lot. It's a short post, but Ulysses you've made me laugh quite a bit. Haven't seen many other stories that made me chuckle like this.
-
Had a thought since I created my original character about a friend for him, here is the story I made up about him.
In a bar in a small town, a young man is laughing away the night with several other, somewhat armed men all with grins on their faces.
RedRoach: "...and then, the bomb went off, but instead of fire, it was just water! The entire crew got doused in a combination of grease and water! Ha!"
Thug 1 "Ah, man, this is the best guy to pass through in a loong while. We should just make him pay less instead."
RedRoach "What? For my drinks and amazing jokes?"
Thug 2: "No, whenever people pass through here, they pay up. Consider it a mandatory pay toll."
RedRoach: "That's horseshit!"
Suddenly, every single one of the men surrounding him rises and draws their weapons, from a standard scrapped-up rifle to a rusty pistol, outnumbering RedRoach by 5.
Thug 1: "You got any last words to help 'improve' our services?"
RedRoach: "Well... make sure you watch out for the devil who follows me. You believe in the devil right?" *With cold stares a quick assumption is made.* "Okay then, I guess I should tell you then. I know someone who could kill you with a BB gun."
A ridiculous amount of laughter takes over the bar, and although many of the gunmen around the table waver their aim, there was never a point where no gun directly pointed at him, so escape during the hilarity wasn't an option.
Thug 3: "That's the best joke you've told so far. I've stayed here for several months, and nobody simply messes with the Greased Light Gang.
RedRoach: "That's the best joke YOU'VE told so far. I can't even believe someone comes up with those crappy gang names anymore."
Thug 2: "HEY!"
RedRoach: "Anyway, this guy is one of the deadliest things on the planet, I can't even tell you if there IS a deadlier thing on the planet. Besides Sandstorms. Flak those things."
Thug 3: "Get to the damn point!"
---------Several months back in a port city of which shall not be named for safety reasons--------
A young adult, strikingly similar to the one who would get into a bar scrap in the future, admires his handiwork of sprayed paint on a squid that isn't his.
RedRoach: "Man, this is going to be great! Compressed air and light amounts of liquid paint do wonders. The crew are gonna get sooooo pissed when they see this-"
Suddenly, while backing up from the airship, he bumps into a person and what feels like a snub nosed revolver.
??: "And who exactly will be 'pissed' when this vehicle is spotted?"
Quickly whirling around, Red notices that the person is oddly dressed to be a person here: White business suit, white bowler hat, red tie, rather flat, calm and non-sarcastic tone, a blank face, and a rather short barreled revolver.
RedRoach: "Um... the owner of the squid...?"
??: "And who exactly is the owner of the squid?"
RedRoach: "...flak."
??: "Excuse me?"
RedRoach: "It's you isn't it... you're the owner right?"
??: "I would happen to be so. And you are indeed correct that I am 'pissed'."
RedRoach: "Wait, give me just 5 minutes, I can clean this up, alright Mr. Business man?"
??: *more menancing tone* "If I didn't have something that a bullet would be needed for more than you, you'd be in the ground now. You have until I return. Try to escape and your death will be prolonged."
RedRoach: *Exaggerated bow* "Yes good sir." *a long, motionless and reaction-less pause* "Oooooor you could leave right now...." *Cotinuation of pause* "Fine, I'll start on it."
As RedRoach quit acting retarded and walked back towards the "decorated" ship, he quickly shoved a hand into his pocket and pointed the thing inside of it towards the man and pulled a trigger. The man holstered his weapon, turned a corner and walked away. A muttered word, and Red went back to making himself NOT on the man's hit list.
*Proceed 5 minute montage of a rag and a bottle of water somewhat cleaning up a squid"
After everything was no longer painted pink, purple and several hues of green, the scavenger turned hostage engineer backed off. The ship finally looked like a normal, turd-brown squid. He slipped out a small red piece of glass from his pocket, and held it up to his eye. True to pre-dust descriptions, he saw marks on the ground exactly where the man was once threatening him from, and marks where he went. Jumping off the docks and into the stone path, he raced after the man to see where he had gone. The scavenger had made it to a small warehouse a reasonable distance from anywhere a humane person would live. Putting away the glass, he listened for any sign of the stranger with a fashion sense.
Pirate 1: "You said you already delivered the weapons. You are the worst liar I have seen."
?? : "I want to see the price, before I complete the trade."
Pirate 1: "And I flakkin' said, that I wanna see those damned weapons!"
Pirate 2: "There's someone trying to be a real sneaky dumbass here. I think I know who it is."
Pirate 1: "Oh really? Bring him in."
Out of the blue, 3 men with unusually heavy rifles for the working class ambushed RedRoach, and shoved him straight through the front door, catching everyone's attention, including Mr. Business Man.
RedRoach: *in foriegn accent* "Hello? Housekeeping? I finished cleaning ship, may I have leave?"
Pirate 3: *Ignoring idiot* "This guy is probably working with him, just in case he even needed another body shield."
?? : "I have no recollection of this person, and I do not care if you execute him. I require the price."
Pirate 1: "Don't pull some stupid shit on me! I AM THE LEADER OF A FLEET WHO COULD BURN YOUR SKIMPY SQUID TO THE GROUND!!!!"
?? : "Good thing then that I am not on a squid."
Suddenly, the well-dressed man whips out his revolver, and begins firing it into the warehouse and at the pirates, quickly dropping them. Taking advantage of the situation, Red pulls out a heavy pistol/revolver one-of-a-kind hybrid and fires it through both of his captor's heads, rolling between the 3rd and final man legs and eliminating him, before sheathing his revolver again. Quickly scooting from box to box towards the one man army vs. army gunfight, he manages to get to the white-clothed man as he takes cover.
RedRoach : "Quick, how many are left?"
?? : "I do not remember requesting your interruption!"
RedRoach : "I'm here now aren't I? I took out three, how many are left?"
?? : "There is only two left hiding in the far back." *pops out of cover to take 3 more shots and down another man* "Now there is only one."
RedRoach : "Whaat? He said he had a fleet, a fleet can't be just 2 ships piloted by 6 damn people!
?? : "He did. There used to be 16 men in the warehouse."
RedRoach : *in half-sarcastic, half-earnest awe* "Sooo... I'm going to assume from the gunplay that you are clearly infering to me that you're an assassin?"
?? : "My target is at a distance, and the range will simply make things last longer."
Thinking for a while on which side to take, the scavenger decides to take the side of the business assassin since, well... he's a flakking assassin dammit, and grabs one of the rifles lying on the ground. Taking memories from older battles and modification mishaps and victories in account, he quickly slides out the barrel and replaces it with a longer than normal weapon, a new scope, a muzzle for more accurate rifles, and snaps it into a semi-automatic mode. Chambering the rifle, he slides it to the whitey gunman, who merely glances at it.
?? : "I do not need to use a sloppy automatic rifle in order to take out my target."
RedRoach: "HEY! First off, there's such a thing as 'Regulating your fire in bursts', so don't give me that sloppy auto crap. Second off, it's a modified, hi-power semi-automatic sniper rifle with a 6x scope capable to hitting a target at 700m. Happy douchebag? That 'Clean' enough for you?"
The assassin reluctantly picks up the rifle, and (because Red did not show that he chambered the rifle like an IDIOT) chambers another round, wasting one and leaving a nasty glare pointed at RedRoach's direction. Lifting the rifle and leaving cover, he sights in the area where the final pirate is hiding, and just as the man gets up for a shot, he falls with a smooth headshot through his fore-head. The assassin carries the rifle towards the dead body, followed somewhat reluctantly by the scavenger until he reaches his "target". Almost with no sentiment to a heavily modifed rifle, he tosses it to the ground and crouches next to the dead pirate.
RedRoach: "Soooo.... I helped you?"
?? : *whips out revolver in RedRoach's direction, while still inspecting body* "Try anything and you're dead.'
RedRoach: "Whaaat? This is what I get? Man, I should be less charitable to people who kill people next time."
??: *Takes a small key from the dead pirate's pocket* "Do not forget, you interrupted my work, as well as ruined my ship."
RedRoach: "Heeeeyy, you were planning to kill him anyway, right? The ship's even clean now, and for flak's sake I made you a damn sniper rifle!"
??: *Rises and turns towards Red* "I didn't need the sniper rifle."
RedRoach: "But you used it! So therefore, it was still an ASSET! Come on, please tell me you understand business terms, right?"
An uncomfortable silence passes. Then, the man holsters his revolver.
??: "Your ability to modify a weapon is impressive for an idiot."
RedRoach: "Hey, trust me, being an idiot is why everything I do is impressive. One more thing though. You're an assassin, right?" *another uncomfortable silence, another quick conclusion* "If I require your... services, can I request for you?"
?? : *For the first time, a sign of emotion slides across his face. It is one of sarcasm.* "What could an idiot like you pay me for?"
RedRoach: "A customer is a customer dammit!" *More silence, more conclusions.* "If I have to call you, you need a name. Is there something people you? Something that I can call you?"
?? : *a pause.* "Some people call me a devil. Some people call me a maniac, others a man-killer who is unstoppable."
RedRoach: *yawn* "NOT HELPING. Lots of people call others that. What do you call yourself?"
?? : "I call myself clean. An assassin can not afford to be sloppy."
RedRoach: "Perfect! I'll just call you 'Clean' and that'll be your alias from now on! Deal? Deal!"
'Clean' : "How do you even-"
Before the newly dubbed Mr. 'Clean' can respond, the scavenger has rushed out of the doors and into the reasonably dark city as the sun begins to rise. He shakes his head, and begins to leave. As he exits through the door, his attention is caught by something on the door. A piece of parchment, with writing on it.
---------Back to the Future...----------
RedRoach: "...and that is how Clean and I became great friends!"
Thug 1: "That's not a real story."
RedRoach: "Hey! Mr. Clean IS REAL! And fine, we're not friends, but he's still deadly!"
Thug 3: "You're a liar. No man could do that, even if it is a real gun. And a BB gun can't kill a person, only sting one!"
?? : "That's what you think."
Suddenly, the door to the bar opens, and a man in a white suit, red tie, white bowler hat walks calmly inside, carrying a BB gun.
RedRoach: "There he is! Hey, Clean, this group of individuals didn't believe you were real!"
Thug 2 "Flak! Quick, cover! Put the gun to his head, put the gun to his head!"
RedRoach: *shoved down at gun point* "Hey- Ow- Don't do that- Dammit not the jacket- ow"
Clean : "Now who exactly ordered the BB gun?"
Thug 3 *steps forward with pistol drawn* "That would be me. And there is no way in damn hell you can get through my bullet-proof vest made for a 9mm gun, not some tiny air-pumped-"
'Clean' lifts his rifle and fires it directly at the person's head, in a very particular place. The eye. The man screams and falls down to the ground, and lifts his head to get a shot at the white-cloth assassin just in time to get another pellet in another eye. Blinded and in pain, the man crumples to the ground. Slowly walking to the man, 'Clean' takes his rifle and clubs the butt of the BB straight into his skull. The surrounding gun-men back off, while everyone else who has absolutely no clue what the hell has been going on the entire time quickly file out the door.
Clean : "Death has been delievered."
Thug 2: "We will shoot him! WE WILL! You just- just back off now..."
Clean : "If he did tell you the story, then clearly you now he's already managed to figure out how to be free."
Thug 2: "What do you-"
RedRoach: "BANG BANG BITCH!"
Near instantly, RedRoach pulls out the same heavy pistol/revolver hybrid and empties out a round directly into his captor's face, and swivels behind Clean, aiming his weapon at the three remaining thugs, who are quite literally shaking in their boots.
Thug 1: "Get back! We've got more firepower and more people on our side!"
Clean : *calmly pulling out his revolver* "You have until the count of 5 to live to see another day."
RedRoach: *laughs* "Why the hell should I bother, I don't even have to waste some rounds on all of you."
As Red holsters his weapon, he looks around for the drink he had before the shootout. At the table, he finds a cup of water (H2O is important kids, even in a dusty world) and lifts it to his lips. The sound of his acquaintance counting down doesn't even register, and surprisingly, nor do the three quick shots from his revolver, and the noise of bodies hitting the ground. As he places down his cup, he turns around to his assassin saviour.
Clean : "Your beacon idea actually worked. I got the ping from the device you left on the squid.
RedRoach: "Yeah, DUH. Most of the things I make work. If they don't, well.. they go boom boom, but nobody ever notices stuff like that under a table. Like gum!"
Clean : "Where is the reward you promised?"
RedRoach: "Yeah, yeah, wait a second..." *pulls out a small sack of coins, probably worth about as much as one magazine for a pistol.*
Clean : *Unsatisfied pause & glare* "This is not worth coming here."
RedRoach: "No, that's the price for your services. Your reward for helping me is this." *slides out a piece of paper that is slightly singed, and has stains of unknown origin on it* "I heard you wanted some ways into that Chaladonian manor, so I went dumpster diving."
Clean : *analyzing page* "You believe they will not expect that method of entry?"
RedRoach: "Oh come on, who the hell would suspect a fountain while it's STILL spouting water? And besides, the target takes long walks right past that thing about 6 times, but around 3 of those passes on average aren't with guards!"
Clean : *slides page in suit sleeve* "This will come of some use."
RedRoach: "See? It's an asset. Which means, I'm one damn useful idiot."
Another, rare expression flickers across the assassin's face, one of laughter, but only in the form of a smirk that lasts shorter than a spire without guns. The man takes the paper and slides it into his sleeve, and turns out the door, leaving the scavenger and the pile of bodies in the now deserted bar. A long uncomfortable moment passes. Suddenly, the barkeep pops out from under the bar, while RedRoach was still standing near the bodies.
Barkeep : "Everyone okay?"
RedRoach: "Ah! GOD DAMMIT MAN DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"
-
The tall, swathy woman stared at the man who had approached her. Long of limb and limber, she possessed a wiry grace that seemed out of place in the revelry of the catina. Her expression was masked behind a pair of tinted aviator's glasses, and her clothing was of simple cut, with no trailing strings or frills that would get caught in an engine or gun mechanism. Slung across her hip was a thick toolbelt, half a dozen tools within easy reach of her hands. Even her hair was neat and orderly, contained within an unadored hairclasp.
Her hands moved as she spoke, indicating a tall, slender man in Arashi dress with a vivid pink mowhawk who was tipping back a second glass of hellfire at the bar.
"That's me gunner, he is. Our last name was Thane, but when had to change it when we moved to Albys. Half our crews don't know this. Go blabbing and it'll be a short trip down a long drop for yah."
Her accent was thick, Welsh, a syntax that had long ago been lost except in the depths of the Baronies. Her limber frame was tense as she stared the stranger down. She looked ready to launch to her feet and throttle the man, or scale the nearby ladder and leap from the catina. Between her hands her drink had hardly been touched. As she spoke, she moved her hands, giving motion to the words.
"It's me story you want? Lord, there isn't anything real interesting about us. The lot of us come from the baronies, we do. Bunch of peasents who got sick of the lords and ladies and their airs. Grabbed an uncrewed goldfish, we did, and made for the south border all quicklike. It wasn't easy or safe for any of us. I had to jury-rig her engines more times than I care to count, and Ika drew a bead on at least half a dozen ships that were after us in the end. We was lucky, and smart, half of them didn't think to look down low, and 'Werty weaved us through the craigs and clefts like he was born to fly. Only one of 'em got a good spot before we popped their balloon and legged it as fast as we could."
A flash of teeth, a rare pearly white visible underneath her darkened complexion. The teeth of a woman who rarely drank, who took quite seriously her position. It was the wistful, happy smile of memories long savored.
"When I got 'ere the ship was a mess, and we was all tired as hell. We had to the authorities, we did. False names, no ID. All three of us spent a good week in the slammer while the Guild tried to work out who the hell had landed on their doorstop. The captains who chased us managed to catch up and told the half of our story we left out. It shocked them as much as it it did me when they turned around and told us we could fly out in the morning under guild colors. I guess the officials liked hearing about us giving the gaudy nobles slip after slip, they offered me a contract for a merc company the next day. Snubbing their nose at the Baronies over some trade deal gone sour, no doubt."
She tilted her head down, obviously trying to read the man's face. Her eyes were brown, with just the barest hint of a hazelnut green threading her iris. Her every sense seemed focused on reading the reaction of the man before her. At her side a second tall, willowy female trader clapsed her shoulder. The second woman's face was obscured by a bird mask, which scanned the crowd constantly while her commander spoke with the client. The bird-woman's head only paused once, when a second pilot crossed the room and clapped Ika on the back. A pair of loud shots momentarily drowned out the hubbub in the room as the Gunner grabbed his companion by the shoulder, sat him down, and let loose a roaring laugh.
"So now I'm here, and me company has grown from one ship to four. We reeled in the 'Bloody End' and captain Tallios from a brawl in a place like this, and Miss Vera seized her junker 'In the Trunk' on our third job after we downed it and sent the crew packing. Just recently I even bought myself a nice little guild ship of my own, 'Depth Changes' is a good platform to look out and spot those nasty little pirate pyras when they come in to tackle our clients. She blends in nicely with the mercent ships, and most raiders don't expect her to launch a barrage of missiles or start spewing flames from her lower guns. Of course, part of the trick is not getting tackled myself, but so far Werty's fish has been there when I needed it. 'Waiting for captain' is a doll when it comes down to a proper air brawl, and I ain't afeard to slam another ship if they look at me funny."
The woman grinned, leaning forward on her chair and setting her shoulders as she extended her hand.
"I aint gonna lie to you. If you want us on, I'm gonna make you pull weight too. We're mercs and guards out in the wastes. We 'ave no backup, and each man's fuckup is his own. If you can't man up for your own mistakes, you've got no place on my crew. If you can't man up for the mistakes of your crew, you've got no place in my company. If you can't man up for the mistakes of your fleet, I'll have no business with you."
"Now that that's settled, let's talk about compensation. Name's Jami, and we'll get you to your next port safe."
-
"Are you the group known as Will o’ the Wisp?" A man in standard Port City military uniform asked.
Alastor looked around the enormous building he was at the foot of. It certainly looked impressive with its large archways and expansive hallways. His pure white hair was naturally spiked but it seemed ever so slightly slicked back. This seemingly white color scheme continued to his coat and undershirt. Finally giving notice to the military personal, Alastor nodded. His cold icy blue eyes never truly focused on the man.
The man led Alastor with two of his crew further down the hallways. One being a woman called Spider, she is Alastor’s first mate and pilot. The second is a kid gunner named Rat, they had picked up only recently. The kid always seems nervous when he is in Alastor's presence. Something about Alastor appeared to give him the wrong feeling.
Following the military man into a large room that is clearly meant for nobility, an imposing chair which held a wealthy nobleman, sits in the far end of the room.
"So you are the group known as Will o’ the Wisp, I assume you have the money on your for this exchange?" asked the noble. Alastor nods and looks over at Spider. Spider opens the briefcase she was carrying and displays the vast amount of cash they have on them. The nobleman gleams in happiness. "So to clarify, you called for me to make a business trade of one of my very own high end Galleon ships? Well I do not see much of a problem." Said the noble with a wicked grin. "Only, since you came all this way unarmed to bring this money to me. I don’t see a reason why I should GIVE you the Galleon when I can just take your money."
All the armed guards in the room aim their rifles at Alastor and his crew. Rat started to panic. Alastor and Spider didn't even seem to notice the barrel of the guns pointed at them. Alastor slowly pulled out a pen and document; with a few scribbles he put it away.
"It does not seem you were informed about who I am." Alastor told the noble with a hint of disinterest in his tone.
"Explain," demanded the noble.
"I did not come here because I personally wanted a Galleon, nor had the money to spend; I came here because I was hired to do so. You don't appear to have heard the rumors surrounding you, Sir. The rumors being that you cheat deals. This had made certain other nobles you have trades with a little...skeptical." The nobleman looked a little concerned but let Alastor continue talking. "I was hired to make a business deal with you on behalf of a certain lord in the Yesha Empire. I'm sure you know of whom I am talking about. What I just wrote down is a document concerning how this deal went, after I turn this into him he will cancel all trade routes and business deals with you."
A look of dread came over the nobleman. How could his informants have let this slip by? He needed these trade routes and to be cheated like this now of all times. It left him in a state of panic and frustration.
"If you'll excuse me, Sir," Alastor said while turning away from nobility.
"Wait! Surely there must be a way to, you know, make this all go away." Alastor glanced behind him and pretended to think.
"Sir, give us the Galleon...free of charge."
"What!? Why?"
"So that I may tell my employer that the deal went well, you got your pay and he got his much needed ship. I plan on pocketing all this money as the bribery."
The nobleman sunk back in his chair in disbelief. Is he just going to give away such an expensive ship? He had to. He couldn't risk these trade routes to end.
"Fine! Agreed, take the ship, just…leave."
Alastor nodded.
"Make sure all the paperwork is legalized and have it ready within twelve hours please." The nobleman didn't respond except for a slight nod. His face buried in his hands. Alastor and his crew never said a word until after they were outside and heading toward their ship. Rat was the first to speak up.
"When were we hired by a Lord?"
Alastor got aboard their run down squid and just replied with: "We weren't."
-
Well done with the stories. Alastor, nice touch with painting the scenery. I'm particularily found of how you kept that secret hidden until the end of the story, great job. Jamini, sorry about not poking my head in here about a month ago, but I'm thinking the the narration was beautiful.
-
Still nothing on The Skies have no Limit, but I will make a character post of some sort to bring writings back to life. As for others who are into writing and RPing, feel free to whip up some good narrations or short stories. It's good to have new readings.
-
Ok. Brand new to this but I'm going to try my best.
Looking out onto the barren desert, a medium sized man in a dirty old duster stands. The wind rushes through the air and rustles the feather stuck in his prized military captain hat. This hat was almost as dirty and as old as the duster. It has been with him since the day he took it from the dead corpse of an enemy captain in his first win in battle. Those were the days of sailing under an old man they called Armored Jack.
Armored Jack was an old war horse who served as the captain of a scouting airship. Back then he flew for the Fjord Baronies. He was a celebrated captain who had the piloting skills that allowed him to best ships much larger than his. He became the Commander of the oldest scouting legion and was hailed as a hero. That is, until his ship was sabotaged by the heir to a wealthy family who wanted nothing more than to takes Jack's place as Commander. His ship's engines blew up halfway through a scouting mission in the area of Firnfeld and crashed into the harsh snow covered ground. A airship ambush soon occurred and the rest of the scouting airships were left hopeless without their Commander. The battle ended with all 10 ships destroyed minus one, the ship that carried the heir. The heir would spin a tail of how Jack left them and they were left to battle without him. Jack was cut from Baronies' history and the heir became Commander. Jack awoke to the sound of burning wood and a sharp pain in his left arm. His arm was cut clean off and the cold would stop the bleeding. He had been the only survivor of the crash. He would wander the barren snow for hours until he found a small little village. The villagers nursed him to health and he would continue on his way. He had heard that he was stripped of rank and all recognition by the Baronies so he had no choice but to leave his home. He rode from tradeship to tradeship looking for work and a place to stay. He eventually made it to the vast Burren. He sought refuge in a small town towards the edge of the Burren. He worked as a one armed blacksmith assistant. He worked his strength back up and left. He came across a small cave while searching for safety from a sandstorm. There he found a crazed man with a beaked doctors mask. The man cocked his head at Jack and said, "I can fix that." He swiftly moved towards him and pointed at his nub of a left arm. Jack only shook his head at the man. The man reached into his bag and pulled out a copper contraption that looked fairly old and yet nothing like Jack has ever seen. "They call me the Tinkerer. I search for unique old world technologies and then give them to those I see fit to yield them." Jack looked puzzled at the Tinkerer. The Tinkerer flipped a switch and the contraption sprung to life. Jack gazed upon it and could only think of one thing it could be used for. "Yes it is what you think it is. Its an arm." How did he know what I thinking, Jack thought to himself. "I want you to have this," said the Tinkerer. He attached inserted a needle into Jack's spine and then strapped the arm to Jack's body. Within a few days, Jack learned to control the arm and then the two parted ways. Jack made his way to a trading town where he met up with a convoy heading out into the Burrens. Jack ordered to be dropped off near Paritus. The captain denied him but Jack "persuaded" him to do it. In Paritus, Jack ventured into the Labyrinth. There he would stay for months building his own airship to set sail back into the skies. Luckily he found the remains of a crashed Yesha scouting vessel. He fixed the ship and took to the skies again in what he called the Hyena. He traveled from city to city and amassed a strong crew. Jack did what he did best, fight. He raided pirate airships and faction airships alike. He also sold his services to nations who were willing to pay a pretty penny to raid faction caravans. The mechanical copper arm became a symbol of fear and Jack became an infamous mercenary and outlaw. Jack's reign would last for years. Jack would soon grow old and weaker than he was. He needed to find someone to take his place. The biggest question was, who would be the person to take the place of Armored Jack?
Jack had found the boy while raiding a small, unnamed village in the rocky hills. He took the boy as his protege, for it was the dying wish of the boys mother to spare him. Jack accepted her plea before putting a bullet in her head. The boy watched as his village burned to the ground and his mother's body turn to ash in front of him. He did not shed one tear for his village or his mom. From that day forward he would live the life of an outlaw and a mercenary.
The ship was an old scouting warship called the Hyena. It boasted armor and speed but lack heavy amounts of firepower. The ship ran like a welled oiled machine and Armored Jack was ruthless. He punish any man who would dare question him or take even a second longer to complete a task. His favorite thing to do was to dangle a man from the bow of the ship and raise and lower the altitude. The boy was never punished though. In fact the boy grinned at the sight of other getting punished. Jack saw something within the boy. Something that would later come to haunt him.
As the boy grew older, Jack started to teach him the basics of piloting and running a ship. Being that Jack was an old sailor he knew tricks that had not been used in decades. Maneuvers such as the Sacred Octopus and the Hollowed Willow were some of his favorites. Jack taught him how to use the ships lack of firepower to his advantage.
"Let the speed of the ship surprise your enemies and then attack their weak spots." That was Jack's most common saying to the boy.
The boy wanted more and Jack took notice of that. One day Jack tossed the boy an old cutlass and yelled, "Defend yourself!" After that a fury of blows came towards the boy. Much to Jack's surprise, the boy blocked every blow with cat like reflexes. The boy had a talent that could not be bested. Next, Jack tossed the boy an old revolver. He also managed to out shoot everyone on the ship on his first try. "By my old mechanized arm!" Jack yelled out along with an old, deep laugh. He then muttered to himself, "I think it's about time."
The next day, the boy awoke to the roar of the flak cannons. Jack went below deck and yelled, "All hands to battle stations!" The boy jumped up, put on his jackboots, put o his sword and gun and took to the deck. What he saw amazed him. Splinters of wood flying through the air, the smell of gunpowder, the fine spray of blood, and the screams of the enemy and his shipmates. The boy could see no distinguishable marking on the ship nor and colors of an empire. They were air pirates just like them. Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him to the helm. "Grab the damn wheel!" He spat at him. He did so and fought to position the Hyena behind the enemy ship. He could feel the bullets whiz past him and could feel concussion of the flaks and mortars. The wood splintered and the copper cracked. Bodies were torn to shreds and fries broke out. The boy hard to maneuver the ship around to the back or they will go up in smoke.
The Hyena got to the tail and then let out a barrage of Gatling gun fire, tearing the enemy engine to shreds. The enemy was left stranded and then the boy yelled, "Ready the harpoon!" The harpoon rocketed toward the enemy ship and burst through the hull. The winches screamed as the ship was pulled close. The screams of the men followed soon after. The boy stepped down to the main deck, grabbed a rob and swung across. The men followed suite. The clanging of steel and the pounding of gunshot was deafening. The boy fought his way to the enemy helm and saw his prize. The enemy captain lunged at him trying to gut him. The boy parried and struck back. The captain did the same. In return however, the boy countered and pulled the captain in. He then shouldered him and knocked him off balance. The boy followed up and gained the upper hand. He called the shots and a barrage of attacks were unleashed. The captain couldn't keep up and this cost him his hand. The captain screamed, "I surrender!" This was not enough for the boy. He couldn't stop there. He drove his sword into his chest. The sucking noise that followed made him shudder with excitement. When he felt the body slump, he pulled the sword out of its crimson sheath. The grin he had on his face was almost as horrifying as the fate of the captain. Jack looked up and saw this grin and he knew right then what he saw years ago. He saw a thirst for battle and power.
From the head of the captain, the boy swooped a dark, feather boasting hat. A old naval hat worn by captains. He saw that it was fit for him to take it since he was the one who finished him off. The ship was stripped of any goods and was blown out of the sky. The hat taken that day would be a reminder of his first drop of blood in his river of crimson that would be his life. This is just the beginning of the story of the man who would be called the Grinning Jester of Crimson. This man is Jester Schulz.
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*stunned silence*
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Don't worry if it's your first time here, not many of us can spin a tale quite like you.
I hope to see you in the skies... Grinning Jester of Crimson. ;)
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There are more pieces to the Jester's outfit and ship. Each piece has its own tale. Items such as his copper respirator, his duster, his ivory handled revolver, his telescopic eye patch, his backwards pointing compass, his hand augmentation, his custom steering wheel, his clock that works in reverse, and most notably his desert katana. Those are just a few pieces i have in mind. Plus i might want to do something with the Tinkerer. I had a lot of fun putting him into the story.
This was quite enjoyable so i will definitely be explaining more about him and each of his ensemble. This will come in due time or if someone wants to request a piece to be explained i would be more than happy to spin a tale.
So much fun and so much freedom to let my ADHD mind explore. This is perfect for me.
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Feel free! This is the cantina, where you can create story after story in the GoIO world! I know it looks inactive right now but, you know, stories are hard to come up with when dealing with distractions like eating, working, and pwning others in GoIO itself, but we're all thinking of something right now!
I still feel stolen from that robotic hand mentioned for Armored Jack, because I had this plan for a character (not my ingame one, I'd like both my arms thanks much) having a robot arm that could deliver ultra punches by compressing the arm and then shooting it forward. You want to weave that into the Tinkerer's technology, that's fine by me. :P
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I started my own post where i will be posting more parts to my story. That is, when i think of it and have time to write. If anyone has any ideas or requests i will more than be willing to do them. Anything that helps the gears flow!
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Cantina has been a little dusty latley, maybe you could help kickstart the next generation of stories :P
Though seriously people we need moar stories!
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I'm trying my best to make a well thought out story. I've even made the Tinkerer which can be character implemented in other stories since he's a figure who has been alive for who knows when. There is no set story with him so he can essential appear in anyone's story. Maybe that can help spark things
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Cantina has been a little dusty latley, maybe you could help kickstart the next generation of stories :P
Though seriously people we need moar stories!
Working on it! I actually got a piece that will help kickstart myself
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Mr. rasaric always had a tendency towards blowing stuff up, specially when she was on it. yes she. due to a psychological illness, she is unable to recognize genders. or when is it apropiate to ram a ship full speed (P.S. never). she wears a pure white costume that was given to her when she was captured in a high security prison during the rebellion (she escaped from the hospital during rehabilitation with a restraint jacket, later reconfectioned in her actual suit).
once she found people so crazy as her, she decided to goin the clan. many refused to let her in, since many considered her a danger both in the skies as in land. never the less, she persued her dream of fighting enemy ships (and sometimes allied ships) and looking at the pretty colors of stuff getting blown up. and more often than not getting herself blown up and surprisingly surviving the blast.
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Nothing is certain about him, as he never talks about past. He's known as Schwalbe, the swallow. The trenchcoat is dark and dusty, just like his top hat. His eyes are always covered by shades, reflecting only mere chaos of hues on the skies. Usually he acts calmly, apathetically, powerless. But under the light of the moon, his presence seems getting darker, his face more pale than usually, fingers more skinny and cold. Like from night he gets strength, just like the day is what he couldn't bare.
Nobody dares to ask, as his very presence make people feel unease.
Laughter.
These lips, that seem never able to smile. Some say, that at night, in dark corridors of Void Mother, his grin can be seen, despite utter darkness.
Laughter breaks through chaos of sounds, fire, screams of agony. Shifting pitch, from diabolical low, to distorted highs of lunatic banshee and back again.
Some say, that under the moon one can see eye behind shades. Pale iris, pin-sized pupil, filled with pure, unadulterated hatred, and yet - emptiness of oblivion, the final destination of those who stir mind of this wraith, the black fire powering flesh and joints for no other purpose than obliteration...
Nobody really knows from where he came from. Rumours say, he was the captain of junker named "Nastiez". Ghost, skeletal ship with ghost crew - bunch of myths. But if you take a look into Archives, you might find records of ships shot down by unidentified ship, years ago, near the area said in myths.
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God I haven't contributed for a day! QUICK! TO THE POSTS!
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Wait, wait, so you want to hear about how I chose to be a scavenger instead of a mercenary? Yeah, well... guess what buddy? You don't have to have a job that includes blowing things up 24/7 to have adventure! Geez, you and all the other sky-raider-menance-mercs are all the same.
Oh, you're actually not pointing a gun at me? Oh, so you really DO want to know how I became a scavenger. Well, the whole thing started off when I got caught stealing some ornate figurehead carvings so I could sell them out to my co- the black market. Yes, that was a cop-out. No, you don't get to know who I sell things to. Anyway, after getting hailed with more rifle shots coming at me than a mobula firing all five Gatling guns it hit me that it was a bad idea to use the "Finders Keepers" rule with people who were alive. After all, the people who were awake weren't happy over the fact that someone went and stole their priceless artifact about demolitions-of-unmeasurable-blah-blah-blah.
Think about it. When have you ever gone up to someone and gave them a sucker punch to the stomach, left them alive, and ran off with their money? That's the stupidest thing ever! When have you ever gone on a "looting" run on a raider camp that's still filled with guards and angry crewmembers ready to unleash galleon broadsides? Never! What you do, is make sure they can't ever come back. And what's the easiest way to do that? Here's a hint: It involves finding something more red than the wine in your drink and the color of my nickname from a human body.
Anyway, back to story of escaping from Chaladonian treasurers, I hopped onto some guy's squid and flew away at rapid pace, sold off the figurehead, and started looking around for dead people to loot. Ater all, the dead don't fight back right? This started my least known job that I am in fact NOT proud of: Grave Robbing. Needless to say, it lasted a whole whopping week. The conditions were awful, the people wouldn't care about guarding the place, and at the end of it all I got from popping rich merchant's tombs were less than half what I got for the figurehead. One day, someone, who is now my "rare sites" contractor, asked for some person to do guard duty on some ruins he was examining. I got bored, signed up, drank way more than the daily intake of moonshine should have been, and, Big-Finding-Direction-In-Life Moment, found a shiny piece of metal in the remains I was supposed to defend.
It was shinier than silver, it wasn't piss-yellow gold, and it was a hint of blue. It looked like a gem, you know, the fancy thing that most rich and lazy people love to wear. Later I found out it was a material called Cobalt, but that's for later. I, obviously, took the thing without anyone asking, thinking "Oh noes hopefully nobody watches me swipe this cool stuff here hur dur". Later on the flight back though, a frustrated excavator, same "rare sites" contractor, got tired of not finding anything at his well-thought out search area. I don't know what drove him to actually go and ask his mercenaries, but he did, and he found my shard of cobalt. When that happened, man I thought I was a goner. Got caught stealing from an excavation. Didn't quite go down like though. He questioned me alright, but nothing major, simple "Where did you find this?" stuff. Then, he finished. No punishment, no "WTF DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER!?!?", just a simple thank you, took it, and he left. When we docked back in... Anglea? Yeah, I think so, in Anglea I got a large whopper of cash and a small note saying "Thank you for your discovery, I'd like your help later."
From then on, I was sold. If I can go find things, no relics, from the past and hand them off to people who still care about advancing past the Dusty Dunes, then I can get a quick and easy payment. And soon after, as you can now see, I also look to the past as well. I have seen some crazy things from the past. Magazines, Piano Songs (which I totally don't know, and never will. Swear to god if you make me do it I will set the piano on fire.), Strange Metals that can bend easily or be a pain in the ass to move, and, most importantly, Blueprints and Ideas for constructions of may utilities, such as weapons, scanners, and this funky design for a vest. Which I made! And talked about already.
So, there's my story, about my job. Yes, that still skips a lot more about me, but I answered your question yes? Now here's my question to you. Yes, it's a mandatory question, and No, I wasn't planning to do this at the start but even my own words made me sane enough to think for a second.
What do YOU want to be? There's no simple answer for it, but how do you want to be remembered?
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From the journal of Miss Petra Brimstone.
It's been almost 6 years since father... I mean Lord Brimstone, made me join the Baronies army. Life isn't too bad. I've made my way to the top of my legion. I think the captain wants me to transfer to one of the special forces units. The question is, which unit do i want to go to? The vanguard unit is all about being the first ones into battle and being the last ones out. They are the best of the best. That sounds like it would be interesting but those guys are really cocky and due to me being the illegitimate daughter of a high born, I wouldn't be welcomed kindly. The scouting detachment seems like they have seen some adventures. Being able to scout undiscovered locations and interact with new people would be wonderful. The only problem is that the new commander of the scouting detachment has a tendency to command his men into traps or even worse, send them to places where the conditions are hospitable. How he ever became the commander is beyond my comprehension. It must be because he is a pure blood noble. I could take the same route as Sven and join the Black Bird group. It would be nice to see what goes on in that secret military group of his. All he ever tells me is "You might be able to join some day, little sis." All i know is that they specialize in espionage. I haven't seen Sven in 7 years. It would be great to see him again. Which to choose, which to choose. Oh wait. There is one more of that I know of. The Talon. They are almost never talked about. They are the most unorganized military group I have ever seen. It's as if they took the bottom of the best and put them there. They simply hunt down enemies of the Baronies. The don't get much credit due to how disorganized they are and the unorthodox methods they use but they always get the job done. If i recall from some of the gossip from the other soldiers, I think they are going through a transition period and are looking for someone to command one of the subbranches. I might look into that. If it keeps me from going through another 2 to 3 years of serving under someone it would be worth it. I'll think about it and then talk to my commanding officer tomorrow. Until then,"May Blood be Stronger than Steel".
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"Are you the group known as Will o’ the Wisp?" A man in standard Port City military uniform asked.
Alastor looked around the enormous building he was at the foot of. It certainly looked impressive with its large archways and expansive hallways. His pure white hair was naturally spiked but it seemed ever so slightly slicked back. This seemingly white color scheme continued to his coat and undershirt. Finally giving notice to the military personal, Alastor nodded. His cold icy blue eyes never truly focused on the man.
The man led Alastor with two of his crew further down the hallways. One being a woman called Spider, she is Alastor’s first mate and pilot. The second is a kid gunner named Rat, they had picked up only recently. The kid always seems nervous when he is in Alastor's presence. Something about Alastor appeared to give him the wrong feeling.
Following the military man into a large room that is clearly meant for nobility, an imposing chair which held a wealthy nobleman, sits in the far end of the room.
"So you are the group known as Will o’ the Wisp, I assume you have the money on your for this exchange?" asked the noble. Alastor nods and looks over at Spider. Spider opens the briefcase she was carrying and displays the vast amount of cash they have on them. The nobleman gleams in happiness. "So to clarify, you called for me to make a business trade of one of my very own high end Galleon ships? Well I do not see much of a problem." Said the noble with a wicked grin. "Only, since you came all this way unarmed to bring this money to me. I don’t see a reason why I should GIVE you the Galleon when I can just take your money."
All the armed guards in the room aim their rifles at Alastor and his crew. Rat started to panic. Alastor and Spider didn't even seem to notice the barrel of the guns pointed at them. Alastor slowly pulled out a pen and document; with a few scribbles he put it away.
"It does not seem you were informed about who I am." Alastor told the noble with a hint of disinterest in his tone.
"Explain," demanded the noble.
"I did not come here because I personally wanted a Galleon, nor had the money to spend; I came here because I was hired to do so. You don't appear to have heard the rumors surrounding you, Sir. The rumors being that you cheat deals. This had made certain other nobles you have trades with a little...skeptical." The nobleman looked a little concerned but let Alastor continue talking. "I was hired to make a business deal with you on behalf of a certain lord in the Yeisha Empire. I'm sure you know of whom I am talking about. What I just wrote down is a document concerning how this deal went, after I turn this into him he will cancel all trade routes and business deals with you."
A look of dread came over the nobleman. How could his informants have let this slip by? He needed these trade routes and to be cheated like this now of all times. It left him in a state of panic and frustration.
"If you'll excuse me, Sir," Alastor said while turning away from nobility.
"Wait! Surely there must be a way to, you know, make this all go away." Alastor glanced behind him and pretended to think.
"Sir, give us the Galleon...free of charge."
"What!? Why?"
"So that I may tell my employer that the deal went well, you got your pay and he got his much needed ship. I plan on pocketing all this money as the bribery."
The nobleman sunk back in his chair in disbelief. Is he just going to give away such an expensive ship? He had to. He couldn't risk these trade routes to end.
"Fine! Agreed, take the ship, just…leave."
Alastor nodded.
"Make sure all the paperwork is legalized and have it ready within twelve hours please." The nobleman didn't respond except for a slight nod. His face buried in his hands. Alastor and his crew never said a word until after they were outside and heading toward their ship. Rat was the first to speak up.
"When were we hired by a Lord?"
Alastor got aboard their run down squid and just replied with: "We weren't."