AmongHeroes

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Atticus held Siya, watched as his offered blood pooled inside of her mouth, and cried. The lines of liquid gold tears that streamed down his face dripped from his jaw and cheeks, coming to land in bright pools upon the scorched and ruined skin of the vampire. Time, the oft disregarded element of those that bore the title of ‘immortal,’ was having its day, and there seemed to be none left for Atticus to pin his hope upon.

The black wings wilted like flower petals amidst parched air, drifting down to envelope the obsidian incubus. They covered him as the folds of a funeral shroud might do, encompassing Atticus in living sorrow, and tangible regret.

He had no words to add to the songs of the birds. There was no loving riposte he could make to Siya’s last utterance of adoration. Atticus saw the rays of the new son kiss her flesh, and he watched as the pool of his black blood was taken in one final gulp into his love’s body. Stillness remained, lingering to taunt the final threads of hope to their breaking point.

The strain was almost too much for those threads. Atticus wrestled mightily with his emotion, torn between what he saw and sensed, and the tiny warmth of inner notion that something of Siya yet remained in the husk of her body. In the end it was hope that won the day in the demon’s heart, at least enough hope to not relinquish himself fully to the depths of anguish.

With reverent care, Atticus bent to kiss the coarse flesh of Siya’s forehead. He drew her to him fully, shrouding her in the great leathery folds of his wings, guarding her from the malicious light of a welcome, and yet baleful sun.

Across the broken ground he walked. His ember-like gaze scanned the horizon, taking in those that remained. So few he could see. The riven battlefield was a testament to sacrifice. Some were held in the embrace of consolation, others clutched at the mortal shell of the one they loved, and yet others stood alone and uncertain in the aftermath.

Atticus kept walking. He did not stop to share in the experiences of his compatriots. Perhaps callous was the word for his detachment, but in that moment the incubus only had enough hope to carry his own feet forward. In the face of all the god-wolf’s scars, Atticus had the chance to heal but one, and he would not allow this place of despair to anchor him. He would have to make amends later to the others he cared about, if he could find the strength to face them ever again.

With the light of the growing dawn meeting his black face, he walked onward. The new day blanketed him with its warmth, and Atticus clutched his wings tighter to shield the tiny body held in his arms. He stopped abruptly as he did so, lifting his eyes to the clear blue sky, and the soaring figure of the eagle far overhead.

For a time Atticus merely watched the majestic creature ride the tides of the air, marveling silently at the outstretched wings, and the freedom borne upon them. This creature that had heralded the end of the god-wolf, and the beginning of the new world, stared back at the incubus from high above, unwavering and stern.

“Let this be enough,” the incubus whispered to the great bird. “Ask no more of us.”

And with that last utterance, a cloud of dark smoke and crackling embers enveloped both Atticus and the body of the vampire, and as it was forced apart by the breath of the morning wind, nothing in its place remained.

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Thomas was not expecting Antonia’s kiss, and for a moment his eyes were wide with surprise. He regained his senses in short enough order, returning the kiss with a scrunch of a smile folding the corners of his eyes.

When the rogue withdrew, and bade him choose his winning side, he chuckled, running a hand back over his hair and clearing his throat.

“Well, ah, yes…I suppose I should.” Thomas said.

His gaze moved over Jax, and then to the First Mate. The helmsman seemed as loose and nonchalant as he always did, while Nicolette appeared to be wound as tight as fresh rope. She stood rigidly with her hand on Luc’s shoulder, her jaw set with a distinct air of frustration and disapproval.

Thomas’ brow rose marginally as he guessed the subject of her irritation. He was no fool. She was concerned about the crew, about them seeing their captain being so openly involved with one of the two women aboard the ship. Thomas was sure that the men did not fault him for such an attraction, but what he did know is that not all would take kindly to the situation of the rogue being only his to embrace. Sharing, in all things, was a pillar of pirate life.

His own jaw set. Thomas recognized the inherent danger, the possibility that the loyalty and trust of his crew could fray at the openness of his love for Antonia. As he stood there, Thomas reflected that at so many times in one’s life there exists defining moments, times when a man can either stick to his guns, or cut the losses that may someday befall him.

Thomas snorted defiantly, as much to himself as anyone else. He stepped forward, reaching a hand up behind Antonia’s head to gently pull her to him for another kiss. Though he kept it short, there was passion in his lips, and he made no effort to hide it.

When he broke away, his copper eyes shown brilliantly in the low light of the fading sun. Some things, he thought as he smiled confidently to Antonia, are worth doubling-down for.

With that, Thomas spun and clasped Jax’s hand firmly in a pleasant shake. “I agree to your terms, and by Judas’ silver, may the best man win.”

Thomas released the man’s hand, and marched over to the port rope-shrouds of the main mast. As he neared the rail, he brought three fingers of his right hand up to his lips, kissed them, and then held them above his head like a trident. The salute of fortune to Neptune would be one that every pirate recognized, and Thomas displayed it proudly.

Finished with his homage, Thomas took a stance of readiness, looking back towards the main mast, and the boy Luc.

“On your mark, my dear boy!”

The Last Kings of Orion

There are some excellent characters up in here! I'm really excited to get started with this epic group.

The Last Kings of Orion

There are some excellent characters up in here! I'm really excited to get started with this epic group.

The Last Kings of Orion

Name: Dr. Gavin Brock

Occupation/Crew Position: Synthetic Biologist and Bioengineer

Age: 41

Appearance:

Gavin stands at 6’-1” tall, and possesses a muscularly athletic build that belies his academic occupation. His eyes are a deep blue, and his hair is a mixture of dirty blond, strawberry red, and the first strands of a peppery gray. His skin is fair, and his shoulders, chest, and neck are covered in freckles. Gavin possesses no defining scars or other deformations, and the only adornment upon his skin is a small sparrow tattoo upon his left shoulder.

Background:

Gavin Brock was born on the British Crown dependent Channel Island of Jersey, just scant miles from the northwestern coast of France. He had a comfortable and privileged childhood, afforded from his father, Dr. Allan Brock II, running a successful medical practice in the Jersey capital of St. Helier. Gavin’s mother raised him and his younger sister, Marley, full time, home-schooling the children until they were ready to enter college.

At only a year apart in age, the Brock children were very close. Their connection was undeniably strong, but it was far from the only thing the siblings shared, as it soon became apparent to that the brother and sister duo were both highly intelligent. Upon completion of their equivalent Secondary School years, Gavin accepted a full-ride academic scholarship to the California Institute of Technology with the intent of studying biology. Marley entered London’s King’s College a year later to follow in her father’s footsteps, and pursue a career in medicine.

The next decade was a whirlwind of triumph and opportunity for the Brock siblings, with Gavin completing his doctorate in synthetic biology and bioengineering, and Marley finishing medical school with a promising future as a specialist in virology.

Fate allowed Gavin to pursue his calling with abundant success, as his research led to several minor breakthroughs in the field of human genome manipulation, and genetic precursor treatments for cancer. In short order Gavin was being called the most influential scientist in his area of study, eventually even being nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize for his contributions in cancer research.

Marley achieved her own level of success, though she did so in a less conspicuous manner. With her specialty in virology, the youngest Brock took her skills to the poorest regions of the world, working with the World Health Organization on combating disease.

Even through all the demands of achievement, the Brock family somehow managed to stay close--especially Gavin and Marley. After his work with cancer research, Gavin even promised his sister that he would focus his efforts upon disease prevention in the Third World, and that he would eventually even join her on the frontlines of humanities war with sickness.

In truth, Gavin kept this promise, though in a way he never could have fathomed. With the coming of The Change, and the New Kind, the Brock siblings found themselves on a battlefield they were not prepared for. As Chile and South America became embroiled with the chaos and death of The Change, Marley was deployed in the contingent of doctors and scientists from the W.H.O. that were sent to try and get some sense of what exactly humanity was facing.

Gavin, on the other hand, was held back from the initial wave, being forcefully sent by the British government to the international research and testing facility known as The Mountain. With little choice, and with no knowledge of the well-being of his family, Gavin joined the research team within The Mountain, and began in earnest to try and chip away at the titan that was The Change.

As the months progressed, news of the world outside of the stone halls of The Mountain were growing ever darker. The progress into The Change, and the New Kind, as the research team had come to call them, was infuriatingly slow. All that was really achieved was discovering that humanity had never before witnessed anything like the biological Armageddon that was The Change, and as such, had almost no power to combat it.

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Thomas had finished climbing down the main mast with Antonia, and had bid her adieu with a smile and a dip of his head. On the Skate’s current tack there was little work to be done, as the sailors had easily set the fine ship to its best line, and the helm had an easy time of following course. Easy enough that Jax had relinquished his coveted position to another, and Thomas had no quarrel with this.

With his demeanor reorienting to that of a pirate captain as he moved away from the main mast, Thomas moved forward along the ship until he caught sight of a young sailor named Barlow. The boy, not a day older than sixteen, was aiding the boatswain, Mr. Davenport, in splicing a length of rope.

“Mr. Davenport,” Thomas said, stopping before the hardened senior-deckhand. “You’ll have to make do without Barlow for now, I need him in the nest.”

Barlow, with his youthful eyes, was second only to Antonia in the keenness of his vision, and he would do as the lookout during the evening’s leg of the sail. At mention of being needed aloft, Barlow’s shoulders slumped, and his face slacked with disappointment.

“Ah, but Captain, I was hoping to watch your contest with the helmsman.” Barlow said with a whine befitting his age and absent mind.

Davenport responded instantly, reaching over to the boy’s head with a gnarled hand, and cuffing him soundly.

“Have you taken a leave of your senses, boy? The cap’n needs you in the nest, and you’ll get yer sorry ass up there wivout a fuss, or I’ll gut you me’self to save the cap’n the trouble!”

Thomas merely stared at Barlow as the color drained from the youths face. With a slew of apologies and platitudes, Barlow leapt from his seat beside Davenport, and made off towards the main mast. Thomas didn’t watch him go.

Once the boy was gone, Davenport’s hard face split into a grin. “I never tire of scaring the green ones.”

Thomas chuckled. “I don’t know what I’d do without your formative influence on the ship, Davenport.”

Davenport wagged a piece of the rope he had been splicing towards Thomas. “Well, you’d be a lot poorer, that’s what I’d say. Worth my weight in gold, I am.”

“Gold, you say?” Thomas arched a playful eyebrow to the boatswain. “Perhaps, platina, but gold is pushing your luck.”

Davenport laughed, exposing a mouth full of neglected teeth. “You injure me cap’n.” Platinum was considered a worthless metal in the age of sail. “Silver, at least seems fair?”

Thomas shrugged. “I’ll give you bronze, and let us be done with it.”

“HA! Done.” Davenport said, returning his gaze to the rope. “Good luck tonight, Cap’n. The helmsman seems a wily fellow, so I can’t say you’ll have an easy time of it, but I’ve got a pouch of tobacco says you’ll best him.”

“Aye,” Thomas said, looking up into the forest of rope, cloth, and wood that was the rigging. “I know I won’t have an easy time of it. But I look forward to sharing the spoils of your wager with you later.”

Davenport winked a watery eye towards Thomas. “That’s the spirit, Cap’n.”

With a snort and a thin smile, Thomas left Davenport to his work. It was nearing time for the deed to be done, regardless of the outcome.

Thomas turned to see the majority of the crew gathering around the railings and decking that surrounded the main mast. Among them he caught sight of Antonia, Nicolette, and Jax. Off to the side he also noticed the boy Luc watching from a vantage amidst the shrouds of the aft mast.

He caught the boy’s gaze and gave him a small salute with his fingers before turning his attention back to the trio of the rogue, the first mate, and the helmsman. Thomas made his way through the crowd to the three, adjusting his hair into a small ponytail at the back of his head as he did so. Once he reached them, he smiled broadly.

“Well, are we ready for the evening’s entertainment?” He said to all three.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Atticus heard the voice of Siya, and he spun about. Some distance from where he stood he could see a single tiny hand, charred and mangled, rise above a mound of broken earth. The ember-like pupils of his eyes flashed, and he stretched his obsidian wings. With one mighty beat, Atticus jumped from the ground, flying in a long arc that carried him to where Siya lay.

He landed softly, falling to his knees beside the tiny vampire. Almost instantly his infernal eyes welled with unnatural tears. Liquid gold filled the bottom of his vision, and eventually ran in shimmering rivulets down the valleys of his face.

“Oh Siya,” Atticus whispered to her, quiet with stunned disbelief.

Trembling hands reached towards the blackened flesh that made the delicate vampire almost unrecognizable. The golden droplets of Atticus’ tears fell in stark contrast against Siya’s skin as he bent forward to carefully envelope her with his arms. Slowly, and with consummate care, Atticus lifted Siya towards him.

As he drew her ever closer, his body rocked with silent sobs. The gold was streaming from his eyes now, and Atticus buried his face in the ruined mass of Siya’s once blond hair.

“Siya, you can’t go. Not like this. By all the gods, not like this. Not so soon.”

Though the world had been saved from the terrible will of the god-wolf, if this was the price, Atticus vowed to himself that it was too high. In that moment of sinking hope, regret was what he felt the most. A demon he was, and immortal at that. Born into the world of humanity like a giant among ants. Blessed with powers and with whit that had granted him dominion over a grand destiny, and a life of ill-gotten opportunities.

His years had been spent among carnal pleasures, heroic adventures, and clandestine dealings. Life for Atticus had been a game of relentless self-appeasement. It was a calling that came naturally to him, and he had never fought it. Being an agent of Bain & Hoyle had given him a star to set his compass by, a trajectory to a purpose, but Atticus knew that he had followed it on a circuitous route that left many broken in his wake.

Just like Siya, he thought.

Another sob wracked him, and Atticus lifted his head up. He blinked away the golden tears, and looked into the eyes of the only creature that had ever captured his heart.

“Let me try and fix this,” he said to Siya. “Just don’t slip away, please don’t let go of this world.”

Without looking away, Atticus cradled Siya in his lap, and raised his left hand towards the black horns that sprouted from above his brow. A quick jab sent one of the sharp points through his left wrist, and as Atticus withdrew his hand, he could feel warm blood running down the length of his arm.

He brought his wrist to Siya’s cracked lips, and he pressed the bleeding wound gently to her mouth.

“Please, take whatever you need. Take it all if it means you will be whole again.”

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Looking forward to the post, t! I'll also be getting my own up tomorrow.

Hope the weekend has treated everybody kindly. I saw Guardians of the Galaxy the other day, and holy unicorns vomiting rainbows, it was AWESOME!

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Good day everyone, how are we doing? It's a little sad knowing that there won't be too many more morning greetings in this episode of Pieces of 8. But, on the other hand, it's awesome to have so much story under our belt, is it not? Especially when I consider it all Grade A Premium Roleplay .

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

Thomas raised a challenging eyebrow to the sea artist, his copper eyes glimmering. “You’re on, Jax. We’ll wait for the face of the moon. That will give our contest an interesting layer of daring.”

A smile came to his lips, and his gaze drifted upwards towards the yards of rope and sail that hung suspended above. The sails were billowed, taut with a favorable wind. Amidst the squares of canvas sailors climbed and crawled, their backs gleaming with sweat, and crimson with sun.

It was there, in that man-made forest of masts and fabric that Thomas had grown up. He would forever look upon that dangerous climb within the rigging as the chisel that helped to shape his identity. He wondered if the same was true of Jax. The kill devil the men would share later would lubricate such answers, from the both of them.

Thomas scratched idly at his back where his tattoo was healing, and turned to look across the length of the deck. He noticed Nicolette and Antonia speaking with one another. As he studied them, he realized with a start that with Antonia upon the deck no one was perched in crow’s nest. The Skate was running without a lookout.

A moment of conflict came to him then. If it had been any other sailor besides the woman he loved standing there, away from their station, Thomas would not have hesitated to tear into that unlucky seaman with all the ire a ship’s captain could muster. But, it wasn’t simply any other sailor.

Thomas drew in a long breath. He had no desire to drive a wedge between himself and Antonia, even at the cost of some face with his crew. Perhaps none of the other men had noticed? Thomas certainly hoped that was so. However, if they had, Thomas would deal with that in due time.

Turning to Jax, he said, “I’m going up to the crow’s nest. The First Mate has the deck if you need something.” As he moved away, Thomas called over his shoulder. “You can count this as cheating if you like, what with me getting some practice for our contest tonight.”

With that, Thomas walked forward to the shrouds of the main mast, and began climbing. His movements were sure and confident as he thrust his way up the taut lines of hemp. An exhilarated grin found his face, lengthening with every foot of ascent. The wind pulled at his body, forcing his grip to strengthen on the ropes, and Thomas gritted his teeth in challenge to nature’s breath.

It took him several long minutes, but he completed his climb to the crow’s nest. He squeezed through the small opening to Antonia’s perch, as he had done countless times before. It was his first time alone however, since the rogue had joined in his company. The small space seemed infinitely more compact now without the buoyant personality of his love, but Thomas was there for a very different purpose than companionship, so he forced the thought from his mind.

He stood up fully, letting the sun and wind press against him with all their brilliance. The rocking of the ship beneath him was strong at this height, and Thomas braced himself with a wide stance as he scanned the horizon in all directions.

Off to the northwest, he could still clearly see the green form of Jamaica, and even the dark smudge that denoted the bay of Port Royal. To the west, east, and south, Thomas could only see the shimmering brilliance of blue water, open and free of other ships. At this he sighed in relief, and leaned against the forward railing of the crow’s nest.