Current
Lots of ideas, voices in your head? You may not be schizo, just need to find a plot and start writing.
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11 days ago
Movie Studios don't use AI to generate scripts because they're not copywritable. My writing is mine, not the world's to play with.
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12 days ago
I've no idea what is meant by everyone being a "southern cowboy".
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29 days ago
I like that the Amish gives their kids a chance to decide if they want to stay in their parent's religion.
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2 mos ago
"Badgers?" he said, sweating as he heard gun hammers being cocked unseen behind him. "We ain’t got no badgers. We don’t need no badgers. I don’t have to show you any stinkin' badgers!"
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Bio
I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien.
Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.
Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"
Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and anime music videos.
Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.
@Expendable You posted your OOC in the IC. You might want to remove that from IC and post in OOC :)
oops! Thanks!
@Milkman So, if it's over a hundred years old, the notebook ought to be close enough that it should sort of "ding" at Jake, letting him know that the notebook itself is real. Like Jake said, just because the notebook is real is no proof that what's written inside is.
Would Jake know why the Emperor never retrieved his lost treasure? Were there any rumors or stories that Jake might know as to why he was moving it, and to the middle of a desert? Are there legends of some remote oasis or even an isolated escarpment there in the desert, say listed in The Devil's journal Jake carries?
Jake's going to shift slightly and using his peripheral vision, try to notice if others are paying them any attention.
Bandits are to be expected in bars. They may not believe in the treasure, but any expedition would have useful supplies. And there may be others, true believers, who may show an interest now the notebook is out.
It's sort of useless without a wagon to move it. Any signs of habitation? I'm not sure any of the others would be willing to donate a pint to Cian, and a farm would have a wagon.
@Xaltwind hold up, re-imagining. New concepts emerging, please stand by.
This lady reminds you of a looming thundercloud. She has round green eyes that are like two pieces of jade. Her fine, straight, neck-length hair is like dark coffee, covered by a dark red scarf. She is short and has an athletic build. Her skin is tanned, except for a long thin white scar that splits her left eyebrow in half and runs down her cheek. She has prominent cheekbones and delicate ears with rounded points. Height: 142 cm Eye Color: Jade Green Hair Color: Brunette
Personality: She's wary, always watching, usualy grim unless she's playing her fiddle. Stiffens if touched, known to strike out.
History (Summary): Wrongly imprisoned for five years by her own uncle for theft, then on her release, she was drafted into her nation's navy to fight against a pretender for the throne. Wounded numerous times in battle, awarded a couple of medals, then released to the beach at the end of the war.
Born on the 13th of March in a port brothel on the Greenholme island of Revenore, where her mother took shelter. Unfortunately she died shortly afterward, so nothing is known of Ilyana's human father. She was raised by the the staff of her Aunt Pol and Uncle Glyberos' house, and was largely ignored by the family, including their eldest daughter Sylna and their youngest son Keras. They didn't know she was their cousin.
When Marquis Muleho discovered Ilyana was their niece, her embarrassed aunt and uncle moved her to a private room and forbade her from helping the servants. They then arranged a tutor for her to get her caught up in basic reading, writing, history and math.
A few years later when Marquis Muleho was visiting, the book he had brought for Aunt Pol to examine had vanished. The household was immediately thrown into an uproar. Her uncle went to her room first and found the burned out cover in her fireplace, while Keras "found" one of the gemstones from the cover under her bed. Glyberos had her dragged out to the court yard and flogged until she finally confessed to make him stop. The judge then used his authority to have her branded as a thief on her right palm and imprisoned for five years for the destruction and theft of noble property.
To survive in that hellish place, her cellmates taught Ilyana how to become a thief, with a beating from the guards when she was caught pilfering food. When a disease ravaged the prison, she spent many hours tending to both the guards and the prisoners before finally succumbing herself. While she couldn't say for sure, sometimes afterward the guards and prisoners would show her a hint of respect.
On Ilyana's release from prison, she was immediately press-ganged into the Royal Revenore Navy aboard the galleon the Golden Falcon. Crew were not allowed ashore except in the company of an officer, authorized to shoot them should they attempt to desert.
When she wasn't repairing ropes or sails, Ilyana maintain the boats, work the top gallants, stand her turn at the ship's wheel keeping the ship on course, stand look out in the crows' nest, or do weapon drills. In the evenings, she learned to play the fiddle, and would play tunes when the stronger crew members were manning the capstan or pumps.
Well aware that the thief's mark on her palm would make her suspect, Ilyana kept only a few belongings and left her money on the books, seldomly touching it even when they were anchored out and vendors would row out to the ships to hawk their wares
There were several battles in the fight against the Pretender's ships, her most remarkable scar was a long, thin one that separated her left eyebrow in two and continued down her cheek, missing the eye, fortunately. They joined a blockade in the forth year of the war, pinning the Pretender and his ships in the harbor of Oranaserine. But the enemy tried to run the blockade under the cover of night to release fireships. Despite her alarm from the crows' nest, her ship was unable to avoid collision and caught fire. She was one of the few survivors found, clinging to a top gallant yard.
Hailed briefly as a hero for surviving the fire ships, Ilyana was awareded a medal and immediately reassigned to the galleon Intrepid, where she served until the Pretender's at the battle of Hyel Taesi. Within a week, she was unceremoniously dumped on the beach of Mylmashys with her pay in pocket and a second medal for her service, while the ship sailed for Revenore without her.
---------- Life Goal: A nice house with a farm and fresh water on her own small island.
Reason: Stranded far from home and finding nobody willing to hire a branded theif, Ilyana has turned to piracy.
The ability to do basic sums.
A small shrill whistle used for signalling orders, can be heard for some distance
The use of fists and using whatever comes to hand to inflict harm to the enemy.
Making sails, hammocks, bags, etc. out of canvas and rope
The ability to scale up vertical or inclined surfaces, including ropes, trees, and rock faces
The ability to play a violin
The ability to read, write, and speak the Elvish language.
The very basic ability to read, write, and speak the Kreval language.
The very basic ability to read, write, and speak the Hironia language.
The ability to use rope, pullies, davits to move loads or rig shelters.
The ability to run distances.
The ability to control the operation of a ship while underway, especially while in harbors, around docks and piers.
The knowledge necessary to survive in difficult situations in a city.
The ability to move oneself through the water using their limbs.
The ability to fight with a sword.
a working knife that has the tip removed to prevent it from damaging canvas (or stabbing other members of the crew)
A small shrill whistle usually hung on a neck lanyard, used for signalling the crew.
A short curved sword designed for slashing and use in close quarters
A long rod with a handle, used to secure rope in a pin rack. Can be used as an improvised club
A small canvas bag that contains multiples of items.
A small leather grip with a metal anvil used to push sail needles through canvas and rope.
long needles used to sew canvas and rope
balls of linen twine, often waxed, used to sew sails and whip ropes.
Used to wax linen twine so that it passes through canvas and rope easier. often packed in a horn to be hung from one's belt.
Used to open up twisted line to make it easier to splice ropes.
A rope-wrapped weight that can be tied to a length of cord or rope to pass between a ship and the pier or between two ships to allow heavier lines to be moved between them; can also be used as an improvised club.
Used for sharping blades
Used to wrap cordage around a rope or cable.
holds a sailor's clothes and gear, often decoraded with embroidery, fringe, and knotwork. This also holds two medals in individual cloth bags.
Inside an oilskin bag to protect it from water.
Pirate Parameters:
Strength: D Perception: B Vitality: C Intellect: A Wits: C Agility: B Charisma: D Luck: D
A good way to "recruit" is to press-gang crew from ships the pirates raid. Some crew decide the life of a sailor has no excitement for them, so they'll offer to become pirates, as long as they get to play-act in front of the ship's officers that they were 'forced' to join.
the problem is, of course, most pirate ships have a lot of ordinary sailor-types, so look for people with skills, like navigation, gunnery, etc. These guys typically must be forced to sign the articles.
Did Cian's iron coffin land near the others? Somehow I don't think they'd want to carry it, and Cian certainly can't as long as she's wearing the Dead God's seal.
Cian cried out as she fell, feeling briefly the touch of the sun on her skin, scorching her, but before she could begin to smoke she was swallowed by the cold water of the river, the chill making even her eyes widen in shock.
Now she was being toyed with.
Her begrimed leather breastplate splashed down next to her. She desperately reached out to grab it, even as the rotting padding she wore gave up in chunks, taken by the current. She paid it no mind, as leathers in hand, she struggled for the surface.
This would be so much easier without this seal around my neck!
She broke the surface with a gasp as the sun slipped behind the mountains. Someone was yelling hoarsely nearby, unseen. Cian ignored them as she struggled towards shore, going with the current until she reached a calm spot along the bank and could crawl out, still clutching her breastplate in one hand.
It was not a hot bath. There were no perfume soaps, soft warmed towels, oils, combs or brushes. It was, however, clean.
Cian stripped away the rest of her armor, laying it on the bank to dry before grabbing up a handful of sand as she slipped back in to bathe.
Tomorrow, there would be sun. She'd have to find a sheltered spot away from it, possibly a hollow in a tree or a cave, more clothes, certainly, and something to feed on.
They took away her freedom, making her a slave. They took away her ability to choose who to let in her bed. They took away her life, giving her to a vampire. He took away her humanity, giving her this unquenchable thirst. Mor locked her up in that iron casket, letting her loose only when there was a job. And now she was here, and she was being denied a bath.
Mor would have understood.
Mor would have provided her with a hot bath, clean clothes, and everything that implied! Her appearance was the only thing she had any control over.
Let this "warden" see what happens if you dared to ignore Cian!
Carefully, Cian reached up and undid the buckles for her stained and soiled leathers, slipping out of the armor quietly and placing it gently on the ground. Leaning forward to let the Dead God seal dangle away from her slightly, she began undoing the toggles for the rotting gambeson underneath...
I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien.
Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.
Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"
Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmKRgqWGrWc]anime music videos[/url].
Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien. <br><br>Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.<br><br>Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"<br><br>Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmKRgqWGrWc">anime music videos</a>.<br><br>Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.</div>
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