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Old June 6, 2019, 11:39 AM   #1
Straylor Leonard

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Amulet [Southern Seas] Chapter XI: “There’s Always Bigger Fish” (PM for invite)

Summer of Era XXVI in the Reign of Empress Rhysatra the First …

The Crown Province was particularly nice during this time of year. Summer meant more work for the dockhands and sailors who frequented Kaliport and the surrounding towns and cities outside Prime. This, in turn, fed coin to the local inns, taverns, and merchants who thrived for the season. Everyone who eked an honest living depended on this surge of commerce in some fashion.

Everyone including the ne'er-do-wells who called themselves the Kraken Kings.

Composed of urchins who survived the streets of Kaliport by robbing fishmongers and mugging drunk sailors, these sea rats eventually earned a reputation in the Gulf. At first, the local navies were set loose on their skiffs. But the smaller, lighter vessels easily outran the bulkier patrol ships. The Krakens used guerrilla tactics, disappearing for weeks at a time before raiding foreign merchant ships and making off with smuggled Eunesian spices or any valuable cargo. With Imperial Navy tending to concerns further south, the local navies were eventually forced to use the more economical option: placing fat bounties on the pretender pirates in hopes that dishonor might compel one or two of them to turn on their brothers.

But the locals saw the Krakens as sort of local heroes. They never really harmed any of the small businesses that dotted the Gulf of Ioannalia. In fact, their antics generally benefited the ma and pa shoppes, small time traders, and folks who dabbled in mercantile pursuits. When big shipping companies got raided, the smallfolk got a little more coin in their pockets. It meant more demand for local goods rather than the luxe stuff that came from the outside. The last boat that the Krakens hit belonged to a shipping outfit called Harmon & Sons based out of Imperia. But that was weeks ago. Even the guards got bored chasing ghosts when given enough time.

That’s why shipping companies started paying decent coin for sellswords to accompany their cargo. It wasn’t retirement money but it was good enough for a couple of rounds of cheap ale ...or company, if you were into that sort of thing. With Lylle Co. ceasing their inter-provincial mail service, the Empire suddenly felt a lot larger than before. This created another niche market of able-bodied travelers who could guarantee that high born snobs and the nouveau riche could securely send letters to their business partners and/or mistresses.


“Get yer feet off the cargo, Hansel!”

The Captain of the Brujeya Beauty was embarking on his morning stroll on the creaky deck of the stout fluyt’’. The deepwater vessel was loaded with cargo bartered and bought all along the northern coast. Now it was sailing to Portshire where the Captain hoped to renegotiate his contract with the Portshire Counting House. They were careful to travel far away from the shore but not too far that their screams couldn’t be heard. Captain Bering was Kemite on his mother’s side but looked largely Medonian. Middle age has been kind to the good natured man and his dark hair now speckled with salt and pepper streaks. He wore his navy blue overcoat and perpetually smoke from a pipe.

“Get back on the nest!”, he barked at Hansel, a lanky youth who had just joined his crew a few summers ago.

It was a foggy morning. Below deck, some of the crew and several odd travelersThat’s you! were housed in close quarters. It wasn’t the the royal suite in the Crown Inn, but it had been a largely comfortable ride. The food was decent and the work around the Beauty was manageable. Between the rigging, cleaning, sweeping, and mopping, it earned an honest pay.

Though most of it was gambled during the long, boring nights. Or traded for extra booze or more portions of potatoes and dried fish twice a brightening.

“Look alive, you sea rats!”, Captain Bering shouted down into the hold from atop the first few steps of the ladder. This was his customary way of greeting everyone sleeping below a good brightening. “Looks like we’re going to make it to Portshire without any deaths! That’s a first!” His chuckling trailed off as he limped to his next stop on the ship.

“He should not make light of such a topic”, came a low whisper.

There was a collective groan and some eye rolls.

The statement came from none other than the ship’s ‘healer’. Alizon -- and she never failed to interject that it was with a “Z” -- was sort of the outcast in the group. When one of the men got stung by a lion fish, she managed to extract the poisonous spine and save the sailor from a terrible death. But her methods seemed dubious at best and outright creepy sometimes. For nausea, she concocted potions that required drops of blood and tears mixed with seawater; and in that instance when the sailor was poisoned, she literally sucked the ‘bad blood’ from the wound...with her mouth.

Her appearance didn’t alleviate any of the crew's concerns either. She looked no older than twenty or so ordinations, but Alizon Pendle had a full head of white and gray hair. Some of the crew joked that it was dyed or at the very least a result of her strange work. But it was her outfit that took the cake: she wore an all-black gown and matching, pointy hat.

For what it’s worth, Alizon stayed out of their way and her healing abilities were a boon. But some of the men swore that they found her sleepwalking, naked, during full moons. Or that she could be found on the crow’s nest on moonless nights having conversations with no one at all. Rumor was that she never slept in her tiny corner that was reserved just for her -- that she just laid there, eyes open, all night long. Yet Captain Bering insisted that she was their guest of honor. And when one of the sellswords got a little handsy, the captain promptly threw him overboard.

That was reason enough for the rest of the crew.

“We better rise and meet the new day”, Alizon drawled in her slow, almost droning voice. Then after gliding toward the ladder she paused, turned to everyone and smiled sadly. “I am going to miss you all”, she said suddenly, “when you die.”

Then she nonchalantly clambered up to the deck.

“W-Wait, what?”, someone asked.

 Welcome to the Summer Adventure!
  • You may assume that your character hitched a ride on the Beauty and heard about the rumors of wannabe pirates
  • Your character's wealth tier will determine what he/she purchased in preparation for this adventure.
  • This may include equipment, supplies, and hirelings. Your introductory post will double as your opportunity to explain how and why you ended up on the ship.
  • Depending on your collective actions, you will have a set number of turns to complete the objectives.
  • If you are successful, there will be loot and other rewards.
  • If the Objectives are not met, there will be In-Character consequences.
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Old June 6, 2019, 01:17 PM   #2
Faust Kitrye'veresi
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Eyes the color of the ocean flickered open at Captain Bering’s boisterous greeting. A hint of annoyance danced within those azure orbs at first, then faded correlatively with the limping seafarer’s departure. The elf had voyaged with many different captains over the eras, but Bering certainly ranked among the most reckless-seeming of the bunch. That was, perhaps, why his had been one of the few vessels available from Kaliaport to Portshire. Had other modes of travel been available, the elf might have availed himself of such to secure a more private transport; alas, frequent pirating in the region had chilled the veins of many of the sea’s most adventurous souls.

His back braced against a ship wall below deck, the elf stretched his arms languidly, one across his chest and then the next, before he alighted to his black-booted feet. Even though he wore the sun-kissed skin of a Silrosian compliments of a unique ability that Phedos had gifted him with, there was no disguising the sinuous, cat-like fluidity of his movements. By the time he rose, his long ebony hair settled round his slender shoulders, contrasting with the cobalt long coat that had been perfectly tailored to his svelte form. His black pants completed his outfit, although it lacked the silver trim and ornate details that decorated his outer garment.

Cinching his waist was a leather weapons belt. It lacked the fine taste and quality of the Jaedaxienne snakeskin belt that he usually wore, but it served its purpose nevertheless: a long sword and a short sword of quality elven steel covered his hips. As impressive as those weapons might have been to an ordinary soldier, they were still noticeably heavier than what he was accustomed to carrying. He wore no visible armor, but a shiny silvery-white ring bedecked the fourth digit of his right hand.

He bore the appearance of a barbari noble rather than a sellsword in need of coin, but he had made no pretense about the fact that he had sought passage with Captain Bering solely to reach Portshire.

Wading past the other travelers that shared the hold with him, the elf moved towards the ladder that the healer was preparing to climb to the upper deck when she suddenly predicted their grim fates. He was far too disciplined to allow his stoic visage to betray his surprise, although he set upon the woman named Alizon what could only be interpreted as a dismissive stare. She disappeared a second later, and he followed, if only because he desired a breath of fresh air.

Once upon the deck, he scanned it for signs of the healer. Her behavior had been irregular from the moment that he had boarded the ship, but she had never done or said anything as alarming as the prophecy that she had gifted to those below. Strange woman, he silently thought.

Hopefully, it would not be long before they reached Portshire.

Grandmaster Swordsman"Throughout Aelyria's history, there have been tales and stories of mythological warriors sometimes mistaken for blessed or divine entities. Godlike fighters, the Grandmasters are forever remembered for their valor and are known to break the physical limitations seemingly at will, capable of Masteries that lesser fighters can scarcely comprehend, let alone attempt. Often called one-man armies, Grandmasters are able to defeat countless lower-proficient fighters without much difficulty. Their physique is a testament to their life-long struggle to achieve this near-perfection; through enough conditioning and practice, a Grandmaster can withstand amazing amounts of physical pain and anguish. Incredibly fast and strong, their courage and valor enable them to seemingly perform miracles." - Arms Primer | Defender of MagicFaust can now sense any mage and their specific sphere within 100 yards. They do not have to cast or have any active spells/magic for this ability. - Charybdis | Glory of the Conqueror"The Aspect of Constantine infuses your words and actions; when you are engaged in armed or magical combat, commanding armies on the tactical battlefield, or planning a military stratagem for warfare, you will have a decisive advantage against a character of the same relative skill, all other influences being equal, and will be able to out-maneuver them." - Kaelon
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Old June 6, 2019, 02:26 PM   #3
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Knowing it was unlikely anyone would accept the barefaced lie that she was a sellsword, Oolou had managed to convince the captain that he really did need another cabin boy, or rather girl, and thus had spent most of the voyage so far doing the sort of menial chores around the ship that were left to those who had few skills to offer beyond general labour. Her motivation for boarding the ship had been simple - a quest for new experiences of life, and as one just on the cusp of adulthood, would anyone blame her for that?

Waking early, she had spent time observing those around her and thinking about life, while trying to work a splinter out of a toe. She'd brought nothing with her except the clothes she wore - a grimy white shirt tucked into grey breeches, with old black boots, and a grey-blue sweater for when the nights were cold. Her blonde hair was tied back out of the way while working but otherwise worn loose, and a pale blue bandana was either about her neck or her head. At the Captain's shout, she reached for a sock, pulled it over her foot and then put on her boots, deeming herself ready for the day.

Alizon's whisper and the ensuing groan from the crew made Oolou chuckle. That was such an Alizon thing to say!

To put it simply, Oolou was an Alizon fan. For her the healer was an exotic and fascinating creature. Still young and naive, Oolou tended to catagorize the inhabitants of Telath as either 'regular' or 'different' and Alizon fell into the latter. Watching her, Oolou would wonder how someone became 'different'. Was it deliberate, the way she spoke, the way she moved, the choices she'd made in the way she dressed? If she watched Alizon for long enough, would she discover it was all just a mask, or was the healer truly as she appeared? When not working, Oolou would seek the woman out and loiter close by, almost becoming her shadow. In moments alone, Oolou would try to imitate the strange woman's way of speaking. And the way Alizon healed the crew was equally fascinating, for it was quite different to the way Oolou had seen healers work before.

How did one become different? This was one of the thoughts that had occupied Oolou that morning as the Captain shouted down. Quick to follow Alizon to the ladder, she had been momentarily nonplussed by the woman's declaration that she would miss them all when they died. Standing still and staring up, she'd then snapped her head to the voice that had questioned what had just been announced by the healer.

"She said she'd miss us all when we die!" Oolou repeated helpfully with a bright smile, then climbed up the ladder to the deck. Such an Alizon thing to say!
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Old June 6, 2019, 08:04 PM   #4
Reason starts with Arrr
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Walt had never been at sea on a ship this big before! He couldn’t wait to tell Seph and the others on the Broken King about being on a fluyt. The Adventure of Webfoot Walt and the Flying Fluyt Flotilla-wait, if it flew, would that make it a flytilla? Or even a fluytilla? Regardless, there was plenty to do. When Captain Bering found out that Walt was a good sea hand, he quickly put the lutran to work on deck. There was such a large crew! And such tall masts, and so many yards! So much to tie down, clean, push and pull! When he got his own pirate ship, Walt decided, it was going to be a fluyt like the Brujeya Beauty. Let those bad vyssie pirates and their harpies try to sink or board the Blooded Budgie!

Even though he wore the furry aspect of a lutran compliments of having been born one, there was no disguising Walt’s fearsome pirate-like demeanor and aspect. He wore his unmistakable and dashing tri-fold hat with its two feathers, a red juive’len plume and a black harpy quill. He had his sash and his eyepatch with the terrifying bloodshot eye sewn on, so that it looked like he still had both eyes open even when one was covered.

He had his buccaneer bandolier and belt, with plenty of swashable buckles, on which he could hang the satchel that held most of his worldly belongings, as well as his weapons. A pirate always had weapons! That strange little grenade he had acquired somehow, his longknife, and his newly-fashioned pride and joy: Black Locust, the imbued belaying pin-turned-hand cannon that he kept tucked into his belt at the small of his back. Just wait until those vyssie pirates saw him again, now standing on the bridge of the Blooded Budgie with his pirate hat and his hand cannon, its barrel painted with screaming and flaming skulls, poised to fire its Force Bolt of Doom at their puny K’Terak bad pirate ship!

Walt’s reverie was interrupted by the Captain’s voice calling out that they were almost to Portshire. The Broken King was due there in a few cycles, after being refit in Prime, and Walt wanted to use the intervening time to visit his lotholt, which was close by. He wanted to see! He knew the Gulf of Ioannolia fairly well, so maybe he’d be able to tell where they were if he went up to have a look. It would certainly be more entertaining than watching sailors playing dice yet again, trying the whole time to restrain himself from using the Nudgy Trick to affect the throws in random ways.

The lutran wasn’t sure about this Alizon woman that he was following up top. She seemed odd. But at least she didn’t litter her cabin with feathers or throw apple cores at him, so there was that. None of that mattered once Wuwalleit was on deck, anyway. Once there, he could don his hat and survey the sea and shore, Dread Pirate Webfoot Walt once more.
Thanks to Niven for this snazzie avvie!
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Old June 6, 2019, 08:49 PM   #5
Argon Shatterskin
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Unlike the others Argon very much was the image of a sellsword or rather a sellaxe. He typically guarded caravans but saw no reason to expand his horizons to guarding ships. The tales of old 'stoneaxe' shatterskin involved a few sea adventures fighting pirates and sea monsters and he litereally sought to replicate those successes of his kin. To be a hero and the like.

That rumours of pirates in this seas had reached even the taverns and roadside waystations outside of Prime proved enough to convince Argon to seek out the best way to get into the midst of trouble. He truly was reckless in the sense that he sought out danger to test his mettle, yet it was only when faced with danger that Argon ever showed caution. In the past year there had been several altercations with stranger and monster alike that he tried, first, a diplomatic solution before employing the axe. He had mixed successes on this front.

The Brujeya Beauty had earned its name in Argon's eyes. It seemed a big ship to his limited naval understanding and, having been on board, the vessel itself had treated him well. He was growing fond of the ship himself even as woken up by a captain in strange sea-man terminology that actually came across as endearing to Argon. He had heard tales of those men who sought out the sea. They insulted the sensibilities of those blue blooded snooty sort yet every story painted these men as stoic, ready men of action who faced danger and either met with death or saw it through due to their actions. Seaman stories painted them as entirely honourable and this picture of them painted his reactions to the existing crew.

He noted that there were others, like he, that may have been more out of place. The dark-elven lordly type wore upon his face that was difficult to read. Was he annoyed or was he just thinking about fairy floss? Argon reasoned he could literally ask but decided to leave the twin-bladed dark skinned elven barbari lord alone for now. He was more interested in seeing whether or not he knew how to use those swords in battle as his demeanour seemed to imply.

There was also the cabin-girl. Argon had a certain fondness for the human girl. She was young, but her positive spirit served them all well. He found her an uplifting spirit and one which he was sure to show every kindness to. That she had an apparent liking to Alizon was also to her credit. A healer was a healer regardless of their methods. If they proved true, then worry instead about the fact people lived than died instead of how it seemed. That said Argon had a certain fascination with her craft and style and would likely try and seek her out during one of those times. She had said they were all gonna die but her phrasing didn't suggest the threat was hers. Was she prophetic? Hopefully not and if so hopefullly fate could be changed at the edge of an axe.

Argon did not respond to her farewell but would hope to have a chat to her about it later. Maybe he could learn a few pointers about healing? It would be nice to be able to work towards saving a life than ending it.

When Oolou brightly reminded them all of the fact that Alizon would miss them Argon couldn't help but to smile and reply

"Aye, that she did" Argon said with a soft chuckle to the human girl-lady "yet hopefully it shall not come to pass young lady! I too would not want to see us die"

Then there was the Otter-man. What an interesting creature that was! Argon hadn't personally met any until now. Aelyria held many creatures great and small and many of whom were sentient and citizens of the empire. He supposed that an otter on a ship made perfect sense given what little he knew of the strange otter-men. He supposed that before the end of this trip he may owe his life to the creature but hoped to return the favour before the end of the trip.

"Lets see what today shall bring then shall we? Argon cheerfully said to the slowly rising crew below deck while picking out a select piece of bark and slowly chewing on it.

It would seem strange to the others who didn't know about the fact he had evolved to gain nutrition from bark but to Argon it had becoe second nature. It was far more cost effective than buying rations and didn't actually taste as bad as people may think. He even had something of a favourite tree bark. Oak bark dried in the summer sun for a week was particularly nice.

Secrets :
Belongings of note:
1 stoneaxe
1 axe with one sharp end
2 throwing axes
1 spiked shield
rations for the trip
a leather cap helmet

CiR here

Ikonomancer, axeman, wall painter in rouge. A 'hero'

Last edited by Argon Shatterskin; June 6, 2019 at 08:54 PM.
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Old June 6, 2019, 10:39 PM   #6
Saoirse Lanigan
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A groan escaped from the hammock closest to the back of the room. The lump inside threw an arm over her eyes to block out what little light had been let in by the Captain’s presence. Saoirse would have liked to give more of a protest to the intrusion on her dreams, especially as they had been more brief that she would have liked, but she knew better. Usually she would have had no trouble falling asleep to the rocking of the ship, but for whatever reason, she’d been unable to turn her brain off. She’d finally drifted off while trying to plan how she would steal from each person around her.

Granted this was nothing she would actually do. There was no place to run and very few spaces to hide on the Brujeya Beautyand there were a few in close proximity she wouldn’t attempt to lift items off of even if that were the case. The Silrosian elf for one. Besides, she’d made it a rule to never steal from someone she was a crew mate of. On a ship you needed your mates to have your back should things go south. Stealing from them tended not to cultivate that kind of relationship. And she wasn’t here for then anyway.

Why was she here? Well, she needed to get to Portshire before the Broken King. Her task was to gain any and all information she could on possible targets for the ship to hit before she came into port. And, of course, to acquire the coin needed to fund such operations. Also, it might be fun to visit some of Walt’s family if he felt so inclined to take her along.

Swinging her legs out the side of the hammock, she pushed back her sleep tousled brown hair from her face and rubbed her hands over her face. As the words of the healer reached her, she shot the woman a look of disbelief mixed with disgust.

“Well, isn’t she a ray of fething sunshine!” she said to no one in particular.

Looking over at Walt’s cot, she saw that her lutran friend had already left his bed and a quick scan of the room caught him following the darkly garbed lady up the ladder to the main deck. Well, that was that. Considering all her friend had been through, it always amazed her how much energy he had. Perhaps it was a racial trait.

Sighing, Soairse let her thigh high black boots hit the deck with a soft thud. Reaching out beside her, she grabbed her chemise and belt from where she’d left them the darkening before. Pulling the shirt over her head, the petite human tucked it and her white undershirt into her black trousers before fastening her brown corset-like belt over top. Then she grabbed her short sword and her dagger and fastened both to her hip. Reaching back into her bed, Saoirse grabbed her money purse and fastened that to her belt as well. There was no way she was going to leave that around for just anyone to take. It stayed with her at all times.

Ready for the brightening as she was going to be, the young woman finger combed her long caramel locks as she weaved her way through the others. She hadn’t really taken much time to get to know any of them, but that suited her just fine. She already had a crew she was loyal to. This crew was just for now.

Climbing the ladder, she emerged from the bowels of the ship into the sunslight above.

Last edited by Saoirse Lanigan; June 7, 2019 at 11:47 AM.
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Old June 6, 2019, 11:01 PM   #7
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Ship traveling was never fun for Cherjaine, but traveling overland was worse. If she did not travel in caravans or some sort of covered vehicle, the chances of her being attack by a bird or an especially large insect was quite high. She did travel with a duck mount named Knight, but she had left it at home, in the care of one of her employee, a pixie named Diamond. Diamond would need Knight to assist in the carrying of her shop's purchases.

The questions some might ask were, why was ship travel not fun for her and why was she even on the ship where a doom-sayer was on.

First question. The faerie had to remind herself not to hover for no reason. If she was on deck and she did not maintain a forward motion flight, the ship would just continue on without her. In fact, she had absent-mindedly hovered last darkening in the room with the other travelers and she found herself wondering how everyone was moving away without lifting their legs until the she saw the walls coming at her. For a moment, that was quite horrifying until she remembered she was hovering.

Second question. She heard about pirates roaming the seas and wanted to see a 'real live pirate' first hand! That and she was biten by the wanderbug.

To anyone interested in speaking to a faerie the darkening before

Cherjaine had introduced herself as Lady to anyone who spoke with her and she readily showed off the equipment she had brought along. A bow, 20 arrows (3 had a vial of acid on their tip and 3 had a vial of alchemical explosive on their tip), a small vial of essence of lavender and a small tube of ointment for general healing. She did not reveal she had 3 vial of acid and explosive hidden in her sling bag or a few other odd and ends.

She would tell anyone interested that she made perfume for a perfumery and have a hotel for tiny races like herself. It was good advertising to inform.

In the morning

Being the owner of a hotel and one to make perfume, it was usual for Cherjaine to be awakened just before the suns did. She found herself on the mast when the Captain called everyone to wake up and Alizon informing no one was dead.

'Not dead was good.' Cherjaine decided.

A mischeivious smile appeared on her face as she thought of creating an illusion of a dead man or perhaps a sea-ogre arising from the waves. Then she thought otherwise. There was time for pranks and she knew this was not the time.

Cherjaine remained sitting on the mast and began people watching.
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Old June 6, 2019, 11:35 PM   #8
Moss Oktra'rek
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Moss had spent much of the previous month honing his woodworking skills and practising them on his hovel in Aelyria Prime. He was getting better, he was sure, and more than once, he had spared a thought for the generosity and impressive patience of Master Eyvind of Krois. He liked to think that he might make the northern man proud with his handiwork, ever grateful for the opportunity to give back to Xania in the way he had done.

Each hot brightening working under the hot suns of Telath had ended with a visit to the taverns, where a warm ale and an evening of light revelry helped him to forget the aches in his arms and shoulders. Such drinking holes were, of course, also sources of news and rumours, and one such tale that seemed to be persistently spoken of was that of the Kraken Kings. His curiosity piqued, Moss would glean a little more, until one brightening, he became so distracted by thoughts of the seas that he achieved very little work on his home at all.

And so the next brightening, Moss Oktra'rek had made his way to the docks, seeking passage on a vessel. He had left some of his heaviest gear on dry land, but his appearance was still that of a fighter, and he quickly found a place aboard an impressive looking fluyte known as the Brujeya Beauty.

The journey thus far had been somewhat uneventful. He'd spent much of it trying to find his place between being helpful and being out of the way during the brightenings, with darkenings spent beneath the deck in the group's common room. He had recognised only Belacrem and Barthelme, for Faust's appearance was so different that he didn't realise the elf was known to him. And he had made peace with the eclectic mix that made up the passengers. From a lutran to a faerie; a young girl to a...witch?

Alizon had her vocal detractors, and she certainly seemed to make herself a target. But while he wasn't nearly as taken with the healer as Oolou clearly was, Moss could still see the woman's worth. Unusual methods or otherwise, she had witnessed the woman saving a sailor's life after the poor fool had ventured too close to a lionfish. Odd atttitude and attire or otherwise, Alizon deserved her place.

Moss' eyelids fluttered when Captain Bering called down into the hold, and with one strong intake of breath, the bearded blond forced himself up and out of his cot, before joining the rest of the procession and making his way above deck, his body adjusting to the cool morning air as his eyes braced themselves against the sunslight that strained to pierce the fog that enveloped them.

Secrets :

A nice set of leather armour, reinforced with metal, that helps keep Moss warm in cool temperatures and cool in warm temperatures. [Equipped]
A steel longsword that gently glows in the darkness to help light a dim area around the wielder. This ability cannot be deactivated.
Standard longsword.
Small dagger with a plain blade.
Heater shield.

Travel knapsack.
Waterskin (x3), full to the brim.
Travel miscellany: spare clothes, including a white keffiyeh; flint and steel; rope; tent.

Bladed Weapons [Level 2]
Mysticism [Level 2] (Vis Level: 9/9)
Unarmed Combat [Level 2]

CIR | Post-Februination CIR

Peer Moderation Slots:
[] [] [] [] []

= Available | = In Use | = Unavailable

Status: A loss in the family means posting will either falter or be more focused...

Last edited by Moss Oktra'rek; June 7, 2019 at 11:59 PM.
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Old June 6, 2019, 11:53 PM   #9
Join Date: Sep 2013
Posts: 3,246
Wealth Tier: Steel
Barthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious SuperheroBarthelme is a glorious Superhero
Barthelme was there.

"Finally getting back on the horse, huh Barthelme? Or, uh, back on the boat, I guess. Anyway... good for you!"

"One must question the wisdom of the captain, however, given that he appears to have named his vessel for a woman who was famously devoured by a monster from the depths of the sea."

"It doesn't matter. We'll see who ends up being devoured this time around..."

And Barthelme was alone.

Oh, Usira, Ximenes and Ariadne chattered in his head as they always had. Barthelme's Dream Bond with Sylaphormes saw to that. He didn't answer them, however. To do so would be foolish. Barthelme recognized, now, that his Otherling "companions" were no true Otherlings at all. Their thoughts were his thoughts, warped and distorted by the altered perceptions with which he had been blessed when the Nightmare first touched his mind. They were a part of him. Nothing less... but nothing more.

Risthal's trials had made that much clear to him. At first he had even refused to see...

But Barthelme was a Twisted. He would not turn his back on the truth, not ever, no matter how painful it might be.

Item: Usira and the others were not real. Barthelme knew that, now.

Item: And yet, they were no less real than any of the supposed mortal creatures of Telath. Barthelme had always known that. He could not have been wrong.

Therefore: This world, and everyone in it, was no more than an illusion. Nothing truly existed but the Nightmare.

"And I guess that isn't so surprising, is it, Barthelme?"

"These people. This world. You knew all along these things were lies."

"And so, since the Nightmare is the only reality..."

But Barthelme was disturbed from his thoughts by the arrival of Alizon on deck.

What had brought him to the Brujeya Beauty? In a word: her. Or in several words: the rumors Barthelme had heard in port of a ship with a woman who was possibly a nudist somnambulist, or possibly never slept at all. Either might be relevant to Barthelme's particular interests. Certainly she seemed to have been touched by the Nightmare. So he had taken his leave of Sylaphormes... aquaphobic, as always... and arranged to join the expedition, in order to be close enough to the woman to examine her dreams for himself. If indeed she ever did sleep at all.

At the moment, though, it wasn't even darkening, and there was already a scrum of adventurers forming around the woman by the look of things... no doubt all hoping that she'd do or say something especially relevant to... whatever this voyage was about. Hunting pirates, or something? Barthelme hadn't really been paying attention. It probably didn't matter. All that really mattered was that he could feel the Nightmare stirring even now.

So after a moment, Barthelme turned away and resumed what he'd been doing: leaning against the rail and staring vaguely out to sea.

Secrets :
Despoina, his Staff of Arcana
Sand Viper armor
Armored Gullfeather clothes
Bane of the Awoken
Boot knife
Official pirate edition dagger
Smelly pirate clothes (though they're in Barthelme's pack, and not being worn at the moment)
Brass knuckles
Serewood Crystal
Grafting/"surgeon's" kit
Satchel of potions (From here)
Ygg's Crown
Omak's Broken Heart
Devourer's Eye

Active spells:

Dream Bond (A powerful and long-lasting spell that allows Barthelme to dream and access the Dreamscape due to a mental link with Sylaphormes. It apparently takes up a third of his Vis for as long as it remains active. The spell was researched here.)

Level 3 Mystic
Level 2 Dagger
Level 2 Grafter
Level 2 Demir Kum (given the completion of the last two threads I was active for; will add to my CIR when I have the chance.

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Old June 7, 2019, 06:42 PM   #10
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Join Date: Jun 2018
Posts: 114
Wealth Tier: Sterling
Belacrem is an upstanding Citizen
Belacrem could not stand this situation any more.

He had tried once to escape to the opposite edge of the empire, but even that had not made him forget it. The owner of the library in Port Alyxandrya had silently listened to his reasons to move to Prime, even nodding from time to time as though she was paying attention, but in the end she only said that he would be welcome if he decided to return. A part-time librarian was an expendable employee, after all, and a library in the city of queens was as good as a library in the capital, for a part-time librarian like Belacrem. Except for one reason.

You do not find many librarians who occasionally work as deckhands and Belacrem's built was not the best for such combination; however, he had made a try the previous era and got a more-than-reasonable profit. A profit which had turned sour because of the loss of a friend he had acquainted there. She had fell off the ship and now she was probably chained to the main mast of a pirate ship, mopping the floor.

He would never forget her mother's face when she asked for help. He knew there was nothing he could do, but he had been waiting since then for her to come and ask him to join the crew of a battle ship that would return to the Sea of Diana, rescue the little red-feathered juive'len, and sink the pirate's ship.

So when he heard about The Krakens, he did not think twice. They might not be the ones who had kidnapped her, but they deserved the same justice. For Belacrem, it would be a second opportunity.

To do things right - and this applies to almost anything -, you must prepare before acting. Belacrem sold his baton and his harpy talon in the market. With the moneyBoth are steel tier items, he bought a bow and a quiver with arrows. They would have been useful in his previous voyage.


The fluyt was bigger than expected, but it had no ballistae or cannons that he could see. This meant that the captain was too confident or too desperate. At the end of the day, it meant a clear disadvantage, but Belacrem did not want to upset the man who was hiring him, so he did not even mention the issue.

Despite this, everything seemed fine: he was going to travel with many people, which would fight at his side in the unavoidable case of a pirate attack. It was good to find Moss among the crew; it was difficult in these days to find a good warrior that was also trustworthy.

It was then that Bering announced their departure and unintentionally started a debate about how many people would die until reaching Portshire. If Alizon knew that strange healing methods that rumours spoke about, Belacrem would have to speak to her. He felt curious about it.

Secrets :

Light brown leather jacket, trousers and low boots.
Left arm: Light brown leather bracelet with a blue crystal.
Belt: An old dagger and a Vysstichi dagger.
Back: Bow and quiver with arrows.

Mysticism I

"You will find your answers in the end of this corridor"

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Old June 10, 2019, 12:40 AM   #11
Shiro Shimizu
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Join Date: Mar 2009
Posts: 532
Wealth Tier: Sterling
Shiro Shimizu is a benevolent AdventurerShiro Shimizu is a benevolent Adventurer

Out of instinct his turquoise orbs narrowed from underneath the hang of his tan-colored hood, surveying the crowd gathered on the ship’s deck with equal disdain. Shiro Shimizu occupied a back corner of the quarters, enjoying the relative anonymity and silence that the geometry of the room and its shadows afforded. The lure of gold, adventure, or even the lingering peel of heroism hadn’t inspired him to take up the offer of ship-bound transport in exchange for labor. No—to put it simply, the young half-Kemite was bored, and it seemed to be the most sensible way to travel through the province of Prime offered at the time.

Now, though, he was regretting even that hasty decision as he regarded the exchanged between captain and healer. Since first coming aboard he had avoided that woman at all costs, knowing well that the sex was trouble enough but her pretended “magic” and even more obtuse obsession with what she considered dark and macabre infuriated him to the core. She knew nothing of the real Aeternia, or death, or any of the million other realities that the adolescent lived each and every day. He clenched his hands a bit tighter as the rested on his bent knees, feeling the sinew and supernatural, latent strength that laid beneath when that abomination had turned his blood.

No, she, like all females, had only one use, and it was only ever well done in silence: to observe exactly what not to do.

For now, though, the white-haired boy was content enough to sit, watch, and say nothing, keeping his censure instead for the whirled arguments in his head. On his back lay the weight of his one everlasting companion, shown only as a hint of the star-shaped pommel around the sword’s hilt. The other few things he had brought with him on the trip lay in a sack somewhere nearby: an odd assortment of coins, a bit of spare clothing, and a hardened, crystalline fragment of a shell no bigger than the palm of his hand. It had been a long time since that had happened too and yet it was a decent reminder of what consequences followed offering to help one’s fellow man.

For that was exactly not why Shiro Shimizu was here. He wasn’t really sure of the reason why, but he was very sure it was at least not that.
Unless I grip the sword, I cannot protect you.
While gripping the sword, I cannot embrace you.


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