Avatar of Bastian
  • Last Seen: 11 days ago
  • Joined: 3 yrs ago
  • Posts: 88 (0.07 / day)
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    1. Bastian 3 yrs ago


Recent Statuses

11 mos ago
Current Anyone else just existing?


Scrawling my cryptic texts on the wall of this virtual alleyway

Most Recent Posts

@Bastian Yes it is up! I'm just waiting for a few more applications!

Cool, I've got a good idea of the character I want to play. I'll get started on a sheet.
Hey there, is this still going? I've played quite a bit of D&D, but mostly in homebrew settings. It'd be nice to explore the classic Forgotten Realms environments for once.
Happy New Year! I think I'll wait for someone else to post since I did just before things moved along.
I'm fine either way, personally!
Rish turned a hard gaze on Jay as the young lad posed these questions, though only a second passed before his expression softened. It didn't seem like anyone from the group had truly recognized him, so he'd spent all this time on the ride out here on guard for no reason. Besides, Jay probably didn't mean anything by asking. Something about those naturally curious types. Rish resumed walking, falling into step with him.

"Well, if you must know. My city - my people - were facing a grave threat, one that would have perhaps been the death of us all. I had t- er, I was given a critical task in the city's defense. I succeeded. Though... in order to do so, I did some things I am not proud of." The elf looked down at his hands for a long moment as he walked. Would she have hated him? Spat on him, cursed him for it all, if she had lived? A question that circled his mind often, but one he dreaded the answer to. "That's the short of it, I suppose. As for their intentions, bringing me all the way out here: I doubt they care what I do, so long as I stay far away. They were pleased enough with their newfound safety, but having me around as a reminder of what happened would have been... unsavory." He gave a short, dry laugh, having had his fill of this particular subject. Secrets did no one any good, but these things weighed on him too heavily to be shared so freely. Instead, he turned an eye back to his companion.

"And how about you, lad? You don't strike me as much of a frontiersman. What are you hoping to find out here?"
Looks like there's quite a large cast here already, so I'm not sure if I want to join up or not. Regardless, I think it looks like a lot of fun and there are definitely a few characters in my head that would be a good fit on the caravan. I'll keep thinking about it and just watch for now.
As the other members of the nascent crew were going about their morning routines, Wex was still tucked securely into his bunk, snoring in a manner that sounded not unlike a bucket of raw fish being suddenly and violently upended onto ferrocement. The little pilot did not believe in alarm clocks, having always been a light sleeper and confident in his ability to wake up when he needed to. At the moment on the captain's cameras, however, he looked a bit closer to death than consciousness.

In his dreams, he was running. Whether away from or toward something wasn't clear, but he was intimately aware that it was dark, darker than the deepest parts of the oceans of Hane Jhal where neither suns nor aurorae could reach, and that something was watching him.


He wanted to run, to take off at blinding speed like he knew he could, but the air - water? - was thick and he could hardly move. He felt himself slowly surrendering to that merciless gaze...

He turned, abruptly, and saw all the stars in the Galaxy spread out before him.

The crackle of the intercom coming to life woke him just in time to hear Captain's message.

"Rise and shine, crew. Get your asses to the Mission Deck in ten, gotta brief everyone before we touch down."

With a long, low groan, Wex unzipped the thermal wrap covering his body and slid down to the floor. The comparatively chilly air of the ship cut into his flesh like a knife. Quickly, he zipped up his dirty pilot's coveralls, buckled on his gunbelt and then wrapped himself in a long coat lined with synthetic animal fur. From under his bunk he procured a massive thermos, pouring something steaming hot into a beaten metal travel flask. Somewhere along the spacelanes, in some grubby diner module attached to a backwater refueling station, he had tasted the human drink called coffee, and now found himself hopelessly dependent on it for the immensely satisfying feeling that the heat and acidic bitterness brought him. The reported energy boost seemed to not have any effect on him, though. He kicked around next to the thermos until locating a pair of soft, flexible boots that may or may not have originally belonged to him. Lastly, just before stepping into the corridor, he touched the neural band clamped onto the back of his head just to make sure everything was still in place. Satisfied, he put on his trademark wide-brimmed hat, obscuring the band, and hurried towards the bridge.

"Coming, coming," he muttered, ostensibly to some imaginary version of the captain floating in front of him in the empty corridor. He didn't see much point in timeliness. "Not like there's a clock to punch or anything, is there, boss? Sure, sure, I don't trust the autopilot either. No style, no fresh thoughts, and, get this, the shittiest sense of humor in the Galaxy."

As he slid through the door onto Mission Deck, he noticed the majority of the crew already standing there, the air heavy with expectation. Wex elected to ignore this. The engineer was standing close to the entryway, apparently having run all the way here. The pilot scooted carefully under his outstretched arm.

"Fucksake, save some atmosphere for the rest of us, man."

With that, he made his way quickly across the deck (keeping everyone within sight as much as possible) before reaching his chair and leaning against the back, eyes on the captain.
@Dark Cloud Rest up and have a good holiday season!

I'm definitely down for some more character stuff as well.
Rish gratefully reached out to accept the cloth bundle, smoothly unrolling and shaking out the wrapping to reveal a simple but well cared-for wooden cudgel and an equally plain single-edged knife, both of which he tucked carefully into his crude rope belt. The cloth from the bundle he folded and stuffed into his pack. With a final nod of thanks to the departing coachman, the elf finally turned to acknowledge the rest of the group, catching a scrap of conversation from the young redheaded lad about investigating the settlement below. He looked hard at the smoke rising from the middle of the place, wondering if it could be the source of the uneasy feeling still laying cold in the pit of his stomach.

Daydreaming about where to set up camp on those cliffs was all well and good, but if something was wrong down there, ignoring it meant asking for trouble - or death. And if that hypothetical something wrong also happened to have friends, Rish knew all too well he couldn't deal with it by himself. He didn't plan on cozying up with this bunch, but for the time being, he needed allies.

"The young fellow speaks sense. I'm going to go see if I can find a decent vantage point and get a closer look at that place, maybe see where the smoke's coming from." Rish walked past the group and towards the settlement with an unhurried pace.

"You can call me Rish, by the way." He said over his shoulder.
As he clambered off the back of the cart, Rish stretched out his aching joints. Even after spending the entire lengthy cart ride without them on, the elf still felt strange without the weight of the heavy iron shackles on his wrists. The Moonwardens had taken those, when they went. There was no need for such things out here. There were no prisons to hold him, in this place where he would live out the rest of his wretched existence. He gazed up towards the rugged splendor of the cliffs. Not a bad place for a holdfast, perhaps, but something had had him feeling slightly uneasy since they arrived nevertheless.

He took a moment to surveil his traveling companions, wondering how they felt about sharing the road with a murderer. The poor devil driving the carriage had probably spent the whole time looking over his shoulder, wondering if Rish would try to kill them all one by one and steal the reins.

Himself? Rish had no more appetite for violence. That young man's fire had burned itself out of him some time ago, now. Be that as it may, he had no intention of simply allowing violence to happen to him, should it come to that. He stretched out both hands towards the coachman, gnarled and frightened old thing that he was.

"My things, if you'd be so kind." His voice sounded strange to him these days, still refined and carefully controlled while his inner thoughts sounded so old and worn, just like the outside of him. "I do not much like the idea of you leaving here with them still under your seat."

Some of the others were actually introducing themselves, standing in a loose group and looking around at each other earnestly. Rish gave a dry chuckle, thinking back on how quiet the long stretches of their journey out here had been.
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