Hey! I'd be interested in Captain Dorado's Treasure :o
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Brennan Picket was tired, so tired... Work to eat, eat to live, but what's the point of living if it's only to work some more? Day in and day out of this stupid guard job. What had the stupid royal family ever done for him? Nothing, that's what. Gave him a job, he conceded, better than most jobs out there. Still a stupid, boring, tiring job. Stupid topsy-turvy schedules leaving him too tired for anything but sleep on his hours off.
As he ruminated on those thoughts, there was a rap on his door. Well, the door he guarded. He sort of thought of it as his. He quickly stood at attention. A head poked through the opening and Brennan relaxed, recognizing Glenn from down the hall. "Hiya Bren", the older man nodded. "Food for the cap'."
Cap? Captain Calloway was down here, then. She must've been visiting a prisoner for a long time if he hadn't seen her since the beginning of her shift. He'd have thought Killian, the man he'd relieved, could have given him a heads up at least. She was probably visiting the new prisoner he'd told him about.
A plate of prisoner gruel slid through the door below Glenn's head. A questioning look only bought Brennan a questioning stare in response. After a few seconds, Glenn's look changed to understanding, then to dumbfoundedness.
"Ya ain't heard? Where the blazes ya been all day, under a rock?"
"Uh, I'm down in the dungeon, same as you..."
"What the blazes? What about before that? And that dumb boy Killy ain't gave ya the heads up either?"
"I dunno, I was sleeping..."
"Boy, the queen's been done in and they're all saying Cap did it. Found 'er knife in the body and everything. Ya ask me, it's real clear cut. Probably some dumb vengeance plan years in the making."
Brennan was taken aback. Calloway offing the queen? That made no sense whatsoever. Glenn didn't look like he was pulling a prank though. That said, he seemed way too eager about the news. Got a kick out of the whole affair, and getting to see someone's reaction to hearing the news for the first time. Well, Brennan wasn't interested in the gossip. He didn't really know or care for the captain anyway. She was just another boss. Boss of a boss of a boss, more like. He shrugged, took the food, and turned towards his hallway of cells. Glenn shot disappointed noises at him as he walked away, but gave up quickly, having received no response from Brennan.
Brennan found the captain's cell and knocked. Technically he was supposed to slide the food through the door with no further interaction, but he stuck around and peered through the slot. A captain of the guard betraying the royal family, that was the stuff of books. He really didn't care, but he did wonder what sort of person it took to pull off and follow through with that sort of plot. Or maybe Glenn was wrong and it was a crime of passion? It was hard to make anything out in the dark cell, but he saw the captain's hazel eyes flit up to his.
"You should return to your post", came her commanding voice, which Brennan had heard before in drills and parades. "Well, I suppose my guards aren't all as well trained as I'd thought they were... Picket."
A look of surprise registered on his face. "You know who I am, captain?"
"Of course. I know all my recruits."
It had taken her a second to remember his name, but Amyra did know all her guards. She sometimes glanced over guard schedules as well, though she didn't have every section memorized. That was mostly her lieutenants' job. The section guarding the royal quarters, though, she knew by heart. Heron and McKenzie on the bedroom door, changing with Bellings and Tanner at 4 am. And on the queen's private garden, Kickers and Smith (Perry), then Justice and Lanson. Not knowing the exact timing of the crime, it was difficult to determine which contingent of guards was involved. In the meantime, Picket (Brennan?) was still staring at her.
"What do you mean not well trained?"
Amyra pursed her lips. "For one thing, you are still standing here, interacting with a prisoner. But I was referring to last night's incident. The guards clearly let someone through, and it certainly wasn't me. Did you know any of the guards stationed there during those times?"
"It wasn't you?" the boy responded, and she wished she could see his face instead of just a sliver of his eyes. She thought about telling him the names of the guards she suspected - there was a chance he knew them, but not their schedules. But if he'd talked to them, they would've said something, and if he hadn't, she wasn't going to get any information. If he didn't know them, then saying names was just going to spread rumours. Instead she just repeated, "Do you know them?" He shook his head. It was also good information to know that the he assumed she was guilty. Always good to know what side the rumor mill was on. Picket kept staring at her until she finished eating, then shrugged and finally walked away. She couldn't blame him for his curiosity, given the situation.
As he ruminated on those thoughts, there was a rap on his door. Well, the door he guarded. He sort of thought of it as his. He quickly stood at attention. A head poked through the opening and Brennan relaxed, recognizing Glenn from down the hall. "Hiya Bren", the older man nodded. "Food for the cap'."
Cap? Captain Calloway was down here, then. She must've been visiting a prisoner for a long time if he hadn't seen her since the beginning of her shift. He'd have thought Killian, the man he'd relieved, could have given him a heads up at least. She was probably visiting the new prisoner he'd told him about.
A plate of prisoner gruel slid through the door below Glenn's head. A questioning look only bought Brennan a questioning stare in response. After a few seconds, Glenn's look changed to understanding, then to dumbfoundedness.
"Ya ain't heard? Where the blazes ya been all day, under a rock?"
"Uh, I'm down in the dungeon, same as you..."
"What the blazes? What about before that? And that dumb boy Killy ain't gave ya the heads up either?"
"I dunno, I was sleeping..."
"Boy, the queen's been done in and they're all saying Cap did it. Found 'er knife in the body and everything. Ya ask me, it's real clear cut. Probably some dumb vengeance plan years in the making."
Brennan was taken aback. Calloway offing the queen? That made no sense whatsoever. Glenn didn't look like he was pulling a prank though. That said, he seemed way too eager about the news. Got a kick out of the whole affair, and getting to see someone's reaction to hearing the news for the first time. Well, Brennan wasn't interested in the gossip. He didn't really know or care for the captain anyway. She was just another boss. Boss of a boss of a boss, more like. He shrugged, took the food, and turned towards his hallway of cells. Glenn shot disappointed noises at him as he walked away, but gave up quickly, having received no response from Brennan.
Brennan found the captain's cell and knocked. Technically he was supposed to slide the food through the door with no further interaction, but he stuck around and peered through the slot. A captain of the guard betraying the royal family, that was the stuff of books. He really didn't care, but he did wonder what sort of person it took to pull off and follow through with that sort of plot. Or maybe Glenn was wrong and it was a crime of passion? It was hard to make anything out in the dark cell, but he saw the captain's hazel eyes flit up to his.
"You should return to your post", came her commanding voice, which Brennan had heard before in drills and parades. "Well, I suppose my guards aren't all as well trained as I'd thought they were... Picket."
A look of surprise registered on his face. "You know who I am, captain?"
"Of course. I know all my recruits."
It had taken her a second to remember his name, but Amyra did know all her guards. She sometimes glanced over guard schedules as well, though she didn't have every section memorized. That was mostly her lieutenants' job. The section guarding the royal quarters, though, she knew by heart. Heron and McKenzie on the bedroom door, changing with Bellings and Tanner at 4 am. And on the queen's private garden, Kickers and Smith (Perry), then Justice and Lanson. Not knowing the exact timing of the crime, it was difficult to determine which contingent of guards was involved. In the meantime, Picket (Brennan?) was still staring at her.
"What do you mean not well trained?"
Amyra pursed her lips. "For one thing, you are still standing here, interacting with a prisoner. But I was referring to last night's incident. The guards clearly let someone through, and it certainly wasn't me. Did you know any of the guards stationed there during those times?"
"It wasn't you?" the boy responded, and she wished she could see his face instead of just a sliver of his eyes. She thought about telling him the names of the guards she suspected - there was a chance he knew them, but not their schedules. But if he'd talked to them, they would've said something, and if he hadn't, she wasn't going to get any information. If he didn't know them, then saying names was just going to spread rumours. Instead she just repeated, "Do you know them?" He shook his head. It was also good information to know that the he assumed she was guilty. Always good to know what side the rumor mill was on. Picket kept staring at her until she finished eating, then shrugged and finally walked away. She couldn't blame him for his curiosity, given the situation.
Amyra awoke to pounding on her door. She stumbled up, her leather jerkin halfway buttoned by the time she reached the door. She opened it fully alert, knowing that Albus, her second-in-command, would only need to wake her during his watch if it was an emergency. A firm inquiry about the nature of the problem died on her lips as she saw the spears pointed at her. The men looked at her somewhat sheepishly, but with firm resolve in their eyes. And hints of horror and accusation. "Captain Calloway, you are under arrest", came the condemning words.
She finished buttoning her jerkin while she walked down the hallway, for the first time framed by armed men serving not as an escort for safety and stature, but as guards directing her steps and preventing her escape. Albus - now acting Captain Varona of the Royal Guard of Lethvia - was walking along, continuing to explain the situation. A courtesy not afforded to common criminals. A point still in her favor, she mused, though not much else was. The queen had been murdered under her tenure as captain of the guard, which did not speak well of her leadership. Under a more strict regime she could have been sent to the dungeons for that alone. Here in Lethvia the fault would have been assigned to the actual people posted to guard the queen that night, and Amyra would have remained to lead the investigations. The reason she, too, was now being sent to the dungeons was that her own knife had been discovered coated in the queen's blood. A fact which perplexed Amyra to the utmost degree, since her knife was never far from her reach, even at night. Guards were searching her room for it even as she was being marched to her dungeon. But everything suggested that it was not there.
She crouched in her cell, uncomfortable but not yet miserable. Wheels were spinning non-stop in her mind, trying to make sense of the situation. The calm, analytical assessments which had gotten her promoted to captain of the guard would not let her down, or so she hoped. She had never yet panicked under stress.
When she had arrived in her cell, she'd looked around carefully. Nothing surprising, she knew these dungeons from having brought prisoners down here many times. Four stone walls, well sealed and regularly inspected. No window, meaning her supposed crime was too grave for a nicer cell. A straw mat, not terribly comfortable, but not rotting. A pail of water - clean - and another pail - empty and also clean. A door, wooden with metal reinforcements, and a sturdy lock. She knew how sturdy they were, having replaced half of them herself. Not that she would have broken herself out of the dungeon. That would be the utmost disgrace.
Now she pondered the problem of her knife and the queen's murder. Who could have done it, and why? She could think of many reasons to kill a queen, but not many to frame herself for the murder.
She finished buttoning her jerkin while she walked down the hallway, for the first time framed by armed men serving not as an escort for safety and stature, but as guards directing her steps and preventing her escape. Albus - now acting Captain Varona of the Royal Guard of Lethvia - was walking along, continuing to explain the situation. A courtesy not afforded to common criminals. A point still in her favor, she mused, though not much else was. The queen had been murdered under her tenure as captain of the guard, which did not speak well of her leadership. Under a more strict regime she could have been sent to the dungeons for that alone. Here in Lethvia the fault would have been assigned to the actual people posted to guard the queen that night, and Amyra would have remained to lead the investigations. The reason she, too, was now being sent to the dungeons was that her own knife had been discovered coated in the queen's blood. A fact which perplexed Amyra to the utmost degree, since her knife was never far from her reach, even at night. Guards were searching her room for it even as she was being marched to her dungeon. But everything suggested that it was not there.
She crouched in her cell, uncomfortable but not yet miserable. Wheels were spinning non-stop in her mind, trying to make sense of the situation. The calm, analytical assessments which had gotten her promoted to captain of the guard would not let her down, or so she hoped. She had never yet panicked under stress.
When she had arrived in her cell, she'd looked around carefully. Nothing surprising, she knew these dungeons from having brought prisoners down here many times. Four stone walls, well sealed and regularly inspected. No window, meaning her supposed crime was too grave for a nicer cell. A straw mat, not terribly comfortable, but not rotting. A pail of water - clean - and another pail - empty and also clean. A door, wooden with metal reinforcements, and a sturdy lock. She knew how sturdy they were, having replaced half of them herself. Not that she would have broken herself out of the dungeon. That would be the utmost disgrace.
Now she pondered the problem of her knife and the queen's murder. Who could have done it, and why? She could think of many reasons to kill a queen, but not many to frame herself for the murder.
I'm interested!
@Neurovoid is this still happening?
Name: Jenna Silberman
Age: 17
Appearance:
Romantic/Sexual Orientation: bisexual
Personality: Bookish and sensitive, Jenna is easily influenced by the people and stories around her. She is drawn to people like a butterfly, and though she's quiet she's quick to make friends.
Biography: Jenna has a very distant gem ancestor, a few thousand years up the timeline. Because the lineage is so diluted, Jenna doesn't have any powers, but she does have knowledge of the gems. Her family hasn't much associated with the gems in many generations, but Jenna's parents took her to visit a few gem locations on some homeschooling field trips. She first met the Survivors when she was still a small child. Having just recently finished high school, she's decided to stay in the Sand Castle for a while. She wants to go to online college sometime to study history. She views her time with the Survivors as a gap year(s) as well as an occasion to start her research on gem history.
Relation to the Survivors?: Descendant of a Survivor
Age: 17
Appearance:
Romantic/Sexual Orientation: bisexual
Personality: Bookish and sensitive, Jenna is easily influenced by the people and stories around her. She is drawn to people like a butterfly, and though she's quiet she's quick to make friends.
Biography: Jenna has a very distant gem ancestor, a few thousand years up the timeline. Because the lineage is so diluted, Jenna doesn't have any powers, but she does have knowledge of the gems. Her family hasn't much associated with the gems in many generations, but Jenna's parents took her to visit a few gem locations on some homeschooling field trips. She first met the Survivors when she was still a small child. Having just recently finished high school, she's decided to stay in the Sand Castle for a while. She wants to go to online college sometime to study history. She views her time with the Survivors as a gap year(s) as well as an occasion to start her research on gem history.
Relation to the Survivors?: Descendant of a Survivor
Name: Jenna Silberman
Age: 17
Appearance:
Romantic/Sexual Orientation: bisexual
Personality: Bookish and sensitive, Jenna is easily influenced by the people and stories around her. She is drawn to people like a butterfly, and though she's quiet she's quick to make friends.
Biography: Jenna has a very distant gem ancestor, a few thousand years up the timeline. Because the lineage is so diluted, Jenna doesn't have any powers, but she does have knowledge of the gems. Her family hasn't much associated with the gems in many generations, but Jenna's parents took her to visit a few gem locations on some homeschooling field trips. She first met the Survivors when she was still a small child. Having just recently finished high school, she's decided to stay in the Sand Castle for a while. She wants to go to online college sometime to study history. She views her time with the Survivors as a gap year(s) as well as an occasion to start her research on gem history.
Relation to the Survivors?: Descendant of a Survivor
[I was gonna ask if anyone wanted to be Jenna's ancestor, but then I realized the ancestor would have to have turned into their kid, soooo T_T]
Age: 17
Appearance:
Romantic/Sexual Orientation: bisexual
Personality: Bookish and sensitive, Jenna is easily influenced by the people and stories around her. She is drawn to people like a butterfly, and though she's quiet she's quick to make friends.
Biography: Jenna has a very distant gem ancestor, a few thousand years up the timeline. Because the lineage is so diluted, Jenna doesn't have any powers, but she does have knowledge of the gems. Her family hasn't much associated with the gems in many generations, but Jenna's parents took her to visit a few gem locations on some homeschooling field trips. She first met the Survivors when she was still a small child. Having just recently finished high school, she's decided to stay in the Sand Castle for a while. She wants to go to online college sometime to study history. She views her time with the Survivors as a gap year(s) as well as an occasion to start her research on gem history.
Relation to the Survivors?: Descendant of a Survivor
[I was gonna ask if anyone wanted to be Jenna's ancestor, but then I realized the ancestor would have to have turned into their kid, soooo T_T]
I'll be a human! :D
Hali was crouching on the ground, leaning forward to try to catch her reflection in the smudged basement window across the narrow alleyway. She'd decided to pin up her bangs: since she was with her friends in their spot, it was safe to show her third eye. The rhythmic sound of Kaffir's rubber ball against the wall had lulled her into a false sense of security, almost causing her to lose her balance when Kaffir abruptly addressed her, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, my birthday's on Monday. Just four more days!"
She tilted from side to side, half-pondering what she wanted as a gift, half-trying to get a better view in her makeshift mirror. It wasn't really working out. Deciding to be satisfied with her handiwork, she pointed her three-eyed gaze at Kaffir. What could she ask for as a present? She didn't have birthday plans any grander than eating birthday cookies on her roof at sunset with friends and family, and that was what she did every year.
"You guys should steal a spaceship for me, and we can ditch school and tour the galaxy instead." She smiled proudly, as if she had come up with the greatest (and most realistic) idea in the history of sentient life. "And then we'll eat cake. On the spaceship. Space cake!"
"Yeah, my birthday's on Monday. Just four more days!"
She tilted from side to side, half-pondering what she wanted as a gift, half-trying to get a better view in her makeshift mirror. It wasn't really working out. Deciding to be satisfied with her handiwork, she pointed her three-eyed gaze at Kaffir. What could she ask for as a present? She didn't have birthday plans any grander than eating birthday cookies on her roof at sunset with friends and family, and that was what she did every year.
"You guys should steal a spaceship for me, and we can ditch school and tour the galaxy instead." She smiled proudly, as if she had come up with the greatest (and most realistic) idea in the history of sentient life. "And then we'll eat cake. On the spaceship. Space cake!"
Name: Hali Bakker
Age: 13
Appearance:
Hali is pretty tall, standing at 5'5", and large, due to her alien heritage. She has three amber-colored eyes, with one of them usually hidden under her bangs. Her hair is light brown; it is long and wavy on her head, but she also has soft fuzz on her neck and shoulders. Her skin is very smooth and has swirling patterns that darken in the sun, like freckles.
Bio:
Hali's mother was born on Earth, but Hali's grandparents moved here as young adults from another refugee planet. Hali has always been labelled an outsider by both human and Tsirai communities. She hasn't seen her maternal grandparents in years because of disputes about the inter-special marriage; thankfully, her father's parents are more tolerant. Human school was a little hard for her. She was always chubby, and her shorter fingers were a challenge when learning to write. She was almost held back a year, but with a little extra help from her parents in the evenings, she pulled through. The constant bullying can get her down, but she's always been able to find friends, and her parents are always there for her. When she was younger, she was the type of kid who could cheer her parents up by her naive happiness, and who used to proclaim to anyone who could hear that she'd be president of the world and make everyone get along.
Hali is shy around strangers, but mischievous. She likes to bake and decorate cookies and cakes. She also likes to steal away to the roof of her apartment building, holo-chatting with her friends and watching the comings and goings of the neighborhood below her. She's always trying to make fantastical plans with her friends about visiting the galaxy.
Alien species:
The Tsirai are humanoid, but round and puffy, especially in the limbs. They have 5 eyes, which look kind of like small glass globes filled with glittery amber liquid. Their smooth skin is pink, orange, or blue (or any in-between color in the sunset), with swirling patterns of a darker color. They can shift the patterns at will (because the artist is lazy haha), although creating precise patterns or drawings may require significant effort, and the patterns have a base state they return to in time. Their hair is in the same color ranges as their skin but darker-toned, ranging from deep blue to black to blood-red. It is much thicker than most human hair, and comes out of their head, neck, and shoulders.
The Tsirai were one of the first alien races to have a permanent Earth population, arriving about 80 years ago. Their planet was attacked by the Gemiurge, another alien race, shortly after the Tsirai began space colonization, so they didn't have enough off-planet infrastructure to support all the refugees. Relations with humans had been through radio only until then, but Earth agreed to host a small fleet of refugee ships as first physical contact. Other ships soon followed as the Gemiurge reached farther planets in their solar system; the fleeing Tsirai were not pursued, as the Gemiurge were only interested in territorial expansion.
The Tsirai on Earth maintain semi-unified communication with refugees on other planets, but have no plans to colonize their own and have largely adopted their host cultures. They live slightly longer than humans on average, but only about 10 years, so it doesn't have much of an impact on how they live their lives; their children mature at about the same rate as human children.
Age: 13
Appearance:
Hali is pretty tall, standing at 5'5", and large, due to her alien heritage. She has three amber-colored eyes, with one of them usually hidden under her bangs. Her hair is light brown; it is long and wavy on her head, but she also has soft fuzz on her neck and shoulders. Her skin is very smooth and has swirling patterns that darken in the sun, like freckles.
Bio:
Hali's mother was born on Earth, but Hali's grandparents moved here as young adults from another refugee planet. Hali has always been labelled an outsider by both human and Tsirai communities. She hasn't seen her maternal grandparents in years because of disputes about the inter-special marriage; thankfully, her father's parents are more tolerant. Human school was a little hard for her. She was always chubby, and her shorter fingers were a challenge when learning to write. She was almost held back a year, but with a little extra help from her parents in the evenings, she pulled through. The constant bullying can get her down, but she's always been able to find friends, and her parents are always there for her. When she was younger, she was the type of kid who could cheer her parents up by her naive happiness, and who used to proclaim to anyone who could hear that she'd be president of the world and make everyone get along.
Hali is shy around strangers, but mischievous. She likes to bake and decorate cookies and cakes. She also likes to steal away to the roof of her apartment building, holo-chatting with her friends and watching the comings and goings of the neighborhood below her. She's always trying to make fantastical plans with her friends about visiting the galaxy.
Alien species:
The Tsirai are humanoid, but round and puffy, especially in the limbs. They have 5 eyes, which look kind of like small glass globes filled with glittery amber liquid. Their smooth skin is pink, orange, or blue (or any in-between color in the sunset), with swirling patterns of a darker color. They can shift the patterns at will (because the artist is lazy haha), although creating precise patterns or drawings may require significant effort, and the patterns have a base state they return to in time. Their hair is in the same color ranges as their skin but darker-toned, ranging from deep blue to black to blood-red. It is much thicker than most human hair, and comes out of their head, neck, and shoulders.
The Tsirai were one of the first alien races to have a permanent Earth population, arriving about 80 years ago. Their planet was attacked by the Gemiurge, another alien race, shortly after the Tsirai began space colonization, so they didn't have enough off-planet infrastructure to support all the refugees. Relations with humans had been through radio only until then, but Earth agreed to host a small fleet of refugee ships as first physical contact. Other ships soon followed as the Gemiurge reached farther planets in their solar system; the fleeing Tsirai were not pursued, as the Gemiurge were only interested in territorial expansion.
The Tsirai on Earth maintain semi-unified communication with refugees on other planets, but have no plans to colonize their own and have largely adopted their host cultures. They live slightly longer than humans on average, but only about 10 years, so it doesn't have much of an impact on how they live their lives; their children mature at about the same rate as human children.
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