Abstract Proxy

Pirates of the Darkening Skies

Very good. Apparently everyone is using the second person now.

@Excession

Just as I had planned, I mean...

Pirates of the Darkening Skies

Awesome!

Pirates of the Darkening Skies

Maybe an undead ship can be a bound pirate?

Pirates of the Darkening Skies

How do the monk enlightenments work?

Do acolytes cycle through them all, ideally learning something from each one or is it more of a specialization deal?

Pirates of the Darkening Skies

Awesome, big fan of the lore you've shared so far as well, so I am excited to see where this goes.

---

At the moment I am pretty set on writing up a wandering Wavekin Elemental monk.

I wanted to try my hand at the fun character sample sheets linked in the interest check, so here's my attempt:

Cold Hands

You are Cold Hands, a Wavekin Elemental. You are a monk of the Order of the Bitter Cold. You left the Awakened Woods some time ago, seeking enlightenment across the tranquil waters.

Peaceful by nature, you do not abase yourself through the use of cruel melee weapons. You have no need to rely on fearsome ranged weapons that thunder and flash with fire. You have no need for formal magic. You have your hands. You have your feet. You have the seven hundred and seventy seven uncountable limbs of destruction. And you have the Wildervar.

Why you came to Pirate Stronghold, to the filthy streets of Kontina and to the deadly Redsand district remains a mystery to the buccaneers of the city. They understood precious little about enlightenment. They saw only weakness in your kindness, in your open palms, and in your gentle heart. In time, a pack of slavers came to claim you, convinced you would make a fine gift for the arena. With great love you offered them a final mercy and sent them speedily sailing towards their next lives.

Hearing the commotion more raiders came and surrounded you. There were too many of them. You felt the waters grow calm. You saw no further reason to fight. You had dispensed enough acts of kindness for one day. You allowed them to take you. You allowed them to shackled you. You allowed them to imprison you in a dark, damp cell. How could they enslave the cleansed mind, purified by the burning cold?

You told them as much, but they would not listen.

They think you mad. They are afraid of you. You hear their fearful mutterings as they stand, huddled in front of your prison cell, eyes full of fury, and hands resting ready on their weapons. You feel no such emotions. You are not concerned. You are calm. You are meditating. You know that you must simply wait. There is still more work to be done. And you will soon find a new wave to ride.

Appearance: You are an Elemental woman, human in part, but touched by the blood of some ancestral water spirit. Your skin is emerald, painted in streaks of blue, green, and faded stone. Your long hair is the pale blue of a winter sky and your eyes a frozen sea of blue-white. Ice sheaths your skin and frost lines your clothing, filling the air around you with an unwelcome chill.

Gear:
Monk Outfit - You wear the simple traveling outfit of your order, dyed in shades of dark blue. Over your feet you wear flexible shoes you wove out of light canvas. You wear loose breeches that do not impede your movements. You don a short sleeved shirt that fits you comfortably. Your clothing is bound together with an emerald sash, a strong fabric coiled in three heavy loops around your waist.

Through Darkening Skies - original weird fantasy sky pirate adventures

Alas, I am but a simple servant or aide-de-camp.

Through Darkening Skies - original weird fantasy sky pirate adventures

What sort of crime do I have to commit to join this party?

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Ziska

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Doc, the Colonel is going to start asking questions soon...and you're not really my type to begin with."

"OW!"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think you'd feel that, Ziska. The numbing agent should have been working already," Doctor Nakajima said, pulling a length of synthetic monofilament thread with a fine needle through Ziska's skin, stitching together the brow that the Firewitch had sundered with her neural lash.

"I'll forgive, you just this once," Ziska muttered, her fingers digging into the pitted plastic of the repurposed table on which she was sprawled. "What's your deal anyways, Yuri? Why are you always so—"

"Stop talking, Ziska! Please! I need to concentrate, this is going to leave a nasty scar if this isn't done right."

"What? Another one? Well damn, I guess I won't be winning a modeling contests any time soon, huh?"

"Ziska," Doctor Nakajima said,"Please."

Ziska sighed, burying the clever quip that she had planned. There was something about the look that Nakajima shot at her. She could see something else in her eyes, something she respected, and something she felt compelled to listen to.

"How's the pain?"

"Not bad, three out of five, I've had worse," Ziska said, hiding a low gasp beneath a forced cough.

"Really? It hurts that little? How do you really feel, Ziska?"

"Never been better, Doc, just let me show you."

"Stay down, Ziska, you're a mess."

"I'm always a mess, Doc. That's my secret charm."

"I would tell you to be more careful, but I know you're not going to listen."

"Sorry, Doc, I would, I really would, but I've got a war to fight. My type of war. No rules. Not this time. Besides, what's a cut for some proper intelligence? I'm still fine. I can still fight. I can still pilot a BattleMech."

"Not if you keep this up."

"Yeah, well, the Colonel wanted intelligence and I wasn't going to let him down. Trading up is all that matters. And we hit the jackpot as far as intelligence goes."

"What did you see?"

"Cannons. Rockets. Bombs. Some fresh new aircraft. MechBusters and a bomber. Quite the arsenal for a masked band of no name mercenaries to command as they attempt to oppress an equally backwater planet. Doesn't add up. Not that it matters. I don't care who's bank rolling them. I saw her. I saw her face. I know her now. She can't hide from me. She can't run when we burn her out. Let's see how the witch likes fire, shall we?"

"Who? What are you talking about, Ziska?"

"The Firewitch. This is her handiwork," Ziska said running a finger along her newly repaired brow. She's a mean one, Doc. Not like Dalton...and not even like me. She's a real piece of work."

Ziska felt Yuri's hand gently squeezing her shoulder. There was real concern in the doctor's eyes.

"Still, she got me twice. In two sorties no less, back to back. Not bad, not bad at all. I'll give her that much at least But now...now I've really got to return the favor."

---

Rising from the collection of oversized tires that she had claimed as her chaise longue, Ziska couldn't help but smile. Lena was alive. The Green Knights had a nuke. The spoils of battle, indeed. They were moving up in the world as far as mercenary companies went. She wasn't sure what the Heavenly Sword was going to do with two more compact nukes, but she found that the notion didn't bother her. Let them pop off a nuke or two and see what happened. She would have dared them if she could. The planet needed some shaking up. It was high time to redraw the map. She was tired of listening to the same old stories.

"Lena's alive? Excellent news, Colonel" Ziska shouted, barging over and practically slapping the Colonel on one of his impressive shoulders. In the background, Doctor Nakajima tried desperately to catch hold of Ziska before the MechWarrior could cause more of a racket.

"And we have a Davey Crockett! By Blake's holy loafers, you all were busy while Tarak and I were skulking around in the shadows. When's the rescue op? I'm not sure about the rest of us, but Von Kemp deserves saving. I recall she owes me five thousand c-bills and I'd rather not be left holding that bag."

"So how about it, Colonel? Just say the word. Give me Dalton and his merry band of misfits. Oh...and let me borrow the Davey Crockett. We'll show this planet what it means to conduct diplomacy."

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

Sorry I haven't really had my eye on the guild all too much recently and I just realised how long its been since anyone posted here. Are we waiting on a collab or a specific post?

@Kassarock

Same, down to write a collab if you want to get stuff moving a bit, I enjoyed the first posts, so def want to keep this going.

Rise of Rasalhague

Zohra

---

"Damage?"

"Nothing noteworthy, Leutnant. Wear and tear, mostly. Some minor damage. Some bent armor panels. Fixed it, though. Even had time for a fresh coat of paint. Better than the rest of these antiques. You got some luck, maybe, but you chose well."

He was right, Zohra knew. The electronic warfare equipment was gone from the RVN-2X, courtesy of whatever military outfit that had claimed the BattleMech before the FRR. A pity, state-of-the-art EW equipment would have been nice, but given the state of the some of the other BattleMechs, Zohra was certain that she had little cause to complain. The weapons were functional well within parameters. A Davion inspired refit, the RVN-2X had gained 2.5 tons of armor and a Cyclops Eye large laser mounted in the left torso. According to Zimmerman, the CE LL had been salvaged from a ruined Drillson Heavy Hover Tank.

Before she had redirected him, Zimmerman had spent several minutes explaining the greater reliability afforded by the slit-like emitter design and the endless benefits of avoiding the use of vulnerable long and focusing mirrors in a military grade laser. Beam of light and stream of particles, was mostly what she remembered, and what that meant for penetrating power. The SRM-6 was standard, Harpoon-6, mounted in the right torso with one tone of CASE-protected ammunition in the left torso, a pleasant boon, given the realities of combat. Two Capellan made Kajuka Type 2 "Bright Blossom" medium lasers, nominally intended for Aerospace Fighters, rounded out the weapons Zohra now commanded. A more than respectable loadout for a light mech capable of hitting 97.2 km/h. The C-Apple Churchill targeting/tracking system functioned admirably and Zohra couldn't help but note that Zimmerman had tweaked it admirably based on a brief conversation during her simulation runs.

"Zimmerman?" Zohra finally said, interrupting her brief thoughts of delivering long range doom and violence, and forcing herself to look up from the puttering diagnostic computer that she held in her lap.

"Ja, Leutnant?" the MechTech replied from where he crouched over foot of the Raven-2X, adjusting the step actuator based on the feedback from the program that he had told Zohra to run.

"Please, for the thousandth time, Zimmerman, call me Zohra. You are the expert here. I do not need you call me by my former rank... We are not in the DCMS or any other military outfit."

"Jawohl, Leutnant Zohra," Zimmerman replied, offering a salute as he rose in a sudden movement, bringing his boot heels together with a loud click. The motion seemed so instinctive that Zohra couldn't help but wonder, once again, in the span of several short hours, what sort of MechTech it was that the FRR had assigned her. The squat Lyran had all the subtle touches military training scattered across his oil covered person. LCAF Zohra would have guessed, but she couldn't be sure. Zimmerman had offered no previous rank or military allegiance and she was too polite to broach the subject so early in their relationship.

"The runes painted on the mech? They're beautiful!" Zohra offered instead, beaming a smile at Zimmerman. "Who painted them? It doesn't look like Swedense to me, but I can recognize some of the letters."

Zimmerman shrugged, "It's not, Swedense. It's older by far. And I painted the runes. I had some time to kill. They said you would arrive earlier."

"What do they say? The runes, I mean."

"Old letters. Old words. Quotes I heard or read. Some good luck charms. Old prayers. Several choice messages for Hanse Davion and Theodore Kurita. You know, the usual."

"I doubt it could hurt at this point. What do you think of our chances, Zimmerman? We seem to be embarking on quite the risky operation."

"The odds are long, but I bet that you would last at least ten missions. If it makes any difference, Leutnant. The others...well maybe don't go making any close friends. I heard little by the way of good news before they posted me here."

"Thank you, Zimmerman," Zohra said with a laugh. "That is very reassuring to hear. I will try not to disappoint you."

There was no malice or offense in her voice an she spoke true. She did not begrudge the support personnel their gambling. They were a speculative venture and there was no need to pretend otherwise. Self-created delusions did not last long once the LRMs and large bore autocannon rounds started flying.

"Good, I don't want to owe Elena any money."