InfamousGuy101

The cure (Medieval zombie roleplay)

Don't know if this is even alive anymore, but I'm interested regardless.

Hider

-Name: Ser Derek Navarik
-Age: 35
-Equipment:
1. Armor: Full Plate Armor: Forged in the royal smithy, bearing the crest of House Navarik. Provides excellent protection against both physical and magical threats. Gauntlets and Boots: Sturdy leather and metal, designed for long marches and combat.

2. Weapons: Longsword: A finely crafted weapon with intricate runes etched along the blade, used to defend against both men and beast. Dagger: A small but reliable blade for close combat or utility purposes. Lance: For mounted combat, useful for charging and battling larger enemies. Bow and arrows: simple but efficient long range weapon.

3. Shield: Heater Shield: A round shield adorned with the kingdom's colors, reinforced with steel to protect against any blow or slice.

4. Horse: "Stormbringer": A strong and loyal destrier, well-suited for battle and long travel through the harsh conditions of Rodos. Stormbringer is equipped with sturdy saddlebags for carrying provisions and supplies.

5. Provisions: Rations: Enough dried meat, bread, and water to last several days in the harsh environment of Rodos. Healing Salves: A collection of medical supplies to treat minor wounds and prevent infection.

6. Flint and Steel: For starting fires in the wilderness, crucial for warmth and cooking.

7. Miscellaneous: Map of Rodos: A detailed map of the sealed province, though much of it is out of date due to the constantly shifting dangers. Compass: To aid in navigation, though its reliability can be questionable in the wilds of Rodos. Rope and Grappling Hook: For scaling obstacles or securing camp. Torch: A simple flame source for dark areas and to ward off lesser threats.

-Biography: Ser Derek has spent the better part of his life away from the Kingdom of Malenia, his service as a knight spent on distant battlefields. From one war to the next, his hands have become stained with blood, his body worn and scarred from countless skirmishes. He is no stranger to the brutality of battle, having fought for years in foreign lands, far from the royal court, fighting alongside men who had also become hardened by the same unforgiving realities of war. War had shaped him, hardened him, but it had never prepared him for the kind of terror that awaited him back in Rodos.

When the summons came, Derek had been deep in a foreign campaign, with little word from the Kingdom. The Queen’s call to return, however, was answered swiftly and without hesitation. The cursed, an outbreak of some kind of plague, had ravaged the Province of Rodos, and the Queen had ordered the land sealed away. Word of a possible cure had reached her court, and Derek, along with a handful of other knights, was summoned to investigate, tasked with rescuing the scholar, Galla Mornis, who had volunteered to seek this cure and had recently disappeared. Despite the grim nature of the mission, it was an order, and Derek had long since learned to follow his duty.

Now, back within his homeland, Derek faces a new challenge. The horrors of war had been one thing but this land of the cursed, whatever this plague may be, was another. There is no glory here, no honor to be gained, only the quest, find Galla, and bring her back alive. But as he prepares to venture into the forsaken province, Derek knows this would be unlike any battle he had ever fought.

Smoke and Steel

@PrinceAlexus

Looks good to me. Apologies for the recent delays! Out of interest is your character from Favis or Vich? Mostly for flavour since there is some rivalry

@Dyelli Beybi

<Snipped quote by Dyelli Beybi>

Favis most likely.

@PrinceAlexus

Slight clarification, the Isle is named Favis but the two feuding city states within are Vich and Emiddley. The conflict spanning from dueling rulers claiming the Isle Throne.

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter & Itzi Ku

---

The tearing sound sliced through the cabin like a blade through canvas. Carter’s hands tightened instinctively on the controls and his jaw flexed, but he didn’t curse, didn’t snap. He just looked up through the forward viewing pane, watching the tree line dance too close for comfort.

“Yeah… I heard it too,” he muttered at Zoe's comment.

Meanwhile, Arkadios, cool as ice, followed up with his recommendation.

Carter didn’t argue. He didn’t need the reminder. But he gave a short nod anyway, already adjusting the rudder pressure.

“Understood,” he said, shifting his grip and pulling back slightly. “Let’s get her nose up. Itzi, more lift, now.”

Itzi was already ahead of him, hands moving deftly across the trim and pressure controls. She didn’t waste a word either.

“Venting stabilized,” she reported. “Bringing in more helium from the secondary reserves. Watch for a sluggish rise, she’s fighting us.”

The ship groaned softly as the nose began to tilt up, sluggish but obedient. Carter glanced over at the trim gauge, then back toward the gas bag indicator.

“That gold’s draggin’ us like we’re haulin’ an anchor uphill,” Carter added, “But we’ll clear it.”

Outside, the treetops began to recede, if only by degrees, and the tension in the cabin eased ever so slightly.

“We’re climbing,” Itzi confirmed, still monitoring the pressure. “Barely. But we are.”

Empire of the Clouds

Zeppelin #27 — Control Cabin

co-written by @InfamousGyy101, @Dyelli Beybi and @PrinceAlexus, @Expendable

---

Carter rubbed the bridge of his nose as Arkadios and Zoe offered their assessments. He didn’t like how casually she threw “neutral countries” around like they were guaranteed sanctuary, but she had a point. The Morktree was off most militaries reach and If Hamerlin’s needle-threading worked, they’d be ghosting their way toward it unseen

“Well,” Carter muttered, “since we’ve got dogs on our heels and everyone’s got a different map to heaven, maybe it’s time we start drawin’ one ourselves.”

He turned toward Hamerlin’s map again, tapping along the valley route, “We run the canyon and river path like you mapped—get outta their range—and then veer west, toward Morktree.” He cast a glance toward Zoe. “Assumin’ your ‘neutral land’ don’t decide we’re the opening shot of someone else’s war.”

Itzi, quiet for a beat, finally gave a slow nod.

“It’s doable,” she said, though her voice held a taut uncertainty, “I’ve heard stories about the Morktree. Not all of them are friendly… but it’s the best direction that doesn’t take us right over more Imperial or Calarian airspace.”

Carter exhaled and pushed off from the table. He stepped out of the cabin, into the adjacent deck where Christina was manning the master panel.

“Christina!” he barked over the low thrum of the engines. “We’re goin’ dark and low—threadin’ through the valleys and makin’ a hard westward turn after. Aim’s to lose the bastards and loop toward the Morktree.”

He gave her a grin that was more grit than charm. “Get ready to bleed speed... we’re gonna fly this crate like she’s got wings.”

Returning to the helm, Carter gripped the rudder handles like he was shaking hands with an old, mean friend. “Alright, sweetheart,” he muttered to the ship, “don’t let me down now.”

Beside him, Itzi adjusted trim and pressure valves, eyes still flicking uneasily toward the west.

“Let’s just hope the Morktree isn’t hungry,” she murmured.

The Diplomat in him wanted to honestly laugh at that concept. Everyone had a side, everyone had a price and they had a ton of gold and limited ability to defend it.. Neutral would mean precisely nothing to some people, they where to all intents criminals of they wnated it so. "Neutral, is shades of alliances in truth. Just veiled ones, we play our cards tight and we keep things close."

He paused and looked out at the soldiers and the situation they where in.
"It beats staying in a active war zone, and we have more captains in many forms than we have enlisted trained soldiers." It was a truely absurd place they had found their self in. Yet they had to make it work.

"They're on foot," Arkadios pointed out, "We'll lose them easily enough, no need to take too many risks."

Carter glanced back from the helm, one brow rising, “Rifles don’t care much what’s walkin’ or flyin’ if they get a clean line of sight. If we get too cozy thinkin’ we’ve already lost ‘em, that’s when we catch a round through the gasbag.”

He didn’t say it angrily, just blunt, the way a man speaks when he’s been burned before.

Itzi, adjusting the trim again, gave a slight nod. “Still,” she added, voice even, “he’s right about not overplaying our hand. We can follow the route, yes, but no heroics. We’re not flying a racer.”

Carter gave a half-grin, but kept his eyes forward, “No heroics. Just a little threading the needle with twenty tons of temptation in the hold.”

The ship began its subtle turn. Banks shallow, engines easing back just enough to angle toward the canyon run Hamerlin had plotted. The hull groaned faintly in protest, the groan of something old waking up to move again.

"Old men mad ernough to plan it, young men willing and fast ernough to try it. We can do this. Pirates we be, gold, lovely ladies and a goverment at our back." Hamrlin said as he watched them sweep into the route and the airship began to feel like ship at sea, sea legs where not easily lost and the old man did not even waiver in his balance as he watched the landscape grow closer and closer.

OK, he was a eccentric, maybe a little crazy but ain't no sane man would of planned this. Risks yes, but they had very few other options.

Confidence mattered alot, people needed to feel that yiu knew what you where doing. Especially when things where hard and dangerous. That was now.

He watched the canyon route in one good eye start to come into detailed focus, it looked alot larger on a map. Their was worse things than dying. He knew that and they would likely die quickly if this failed. But for morale he did not voice that dark thought.

Uh o"Er," Nikos managed, "I should fetch some coffee, shall I?"

"Make it stiff, we gonna need to be sharp, thankyou mr Vassiliou, good thinking." Hamerlin said with ease of someone who had been comfortable with his rank and status.

"Make mine black!" Carter added.

"Lots of sugar and cream, please!" Itzi followed.

Escape wasn't certain, and the bridge crew needed to keep their wits about them. Not that there was much he'd be expected to do trimming the elevators. But all this talks about pirates among the officers, no less. Nikos wondered how many bars would disappear before morning? At some point, they'd start locking up the cargo hold, posting a guard.

Nikos winced. There was, of course, only one man for the job. Literally.

Hammerlin seemed and felt oddly calm as he just focused on what was ahead of the airship. No PTSD as he moved to function in the momment like he used to in Naval combat.

"Got any lidded...mugs?" He asked as relised they would be getting rather unpredictable and things would get intresting.

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter & Itzi Ku

---

The map crinkled under Hamerlin’s gloved hand, marked with loops and squiggles, hazard skulls, and altitude annotations that would make a younger man sweat. The old officer's voice carried with practiced ease, one part artilleryman, one part diplomat, and one part devil-may-care showman.

Carter stood just behind the forward portside console, arms folded across his chest, eyes locked on the maze of valleys and turn angles sketched across the old survey sheet. His brow furrowed, jaw working the edge of a thought like a stubborn nail.

When Hamerlin finished, Carter didn’t speak right away. He stepped forward, glancing between the map and the old captain’s weathered face.

"...Threadin’ a needle’s right," Carter muttered. “With the engines running heavy, and the gold dragging us like an anchor, we'd be banking her on momentum. She’s no racer. But...”

He tapped one gloved finger on the valley line.

“…but if this here’s real—if that cover breaks sightlines like you say—then hell, it’s worth the damn gamble. Better than slugging it out with whatever’s comin’. They spot us in the open sky, it’s just a matter of time before something faster finds us.”

He looked up, tone sharpening.

“You get me a flightpath, I can fly her through it. It'll shake like hell, and I ain't promising everyone keeps their lunch down, but I can do it.”

Then he looked over toward Itzi, giving her a head gesture.

“But I don’t fly her alone..."

Itzi had remained still during the whole exchange, eyes flicking over Hamerlin’s grease-streaked map. She understood the logic. The elevations, the masking effect, the timing. It was smartt, ingenious even, but the airship wasn’t a fighter. It was a flying brick with dreams of grace.

She didn’t move from her station.

“It’s clever,” she said, carefully, “And I trust the man's math.”

There was a “but” coming from the time in her voice, and it hung there a moment before she exhaled and gave it life.

“But this isn’t some skiff or coastal patrol ship. One miscalculation in a blind spot, and we’re scraping a gasbag on rock. You’ve all seen how sluggish she’s been climbing. We don't get a second chance if something goes wrong.”

She looked at Carter, her voice lowering just slihtly.

“And you're confident you can do this, loaded like we are?”

“No,” Carter don't hesitate. “Not confident. But I’ve flown through worse with less.” A pause. “And we don’t got a safer option, unless anyone else has a better idea?"

Itzi nodded slowly. She didn’t argue. But her grip on the trim lever tightened slightly.

The room fell into a beat of silence. The chart remained on the table like a challenge. The math was done. The terrain was waiting.

All that remained was the choice.

The floor was open.

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter & Itzi Ku

---

Carter slammed the hatch shut behind Nikos, catching the last glimpse of distant figures creeping closer through the haze of smoke. He paused, hand gripping the metal frame, lungs burning, trying to shove the rising tension down his throat with a few sharp exhales.

“Welcome aboard, sunshine,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before turning back into the gondola.

He made his way toward the control cabin, boots thudding against the grates, catching the tail end of Arkadios and Volodar’s exchange. The two were locked in some kind of debate—whether the approaching troops were Inburian, defectors, or something else entirely.

“Doesn’t matter what banner they wave,” Carter said flatly, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand. “If they’re marching toward us and carrying rifles, we ain’t waitin’ around to shake hands and swap names.”

He stepped into the control cabin without waiting for any other word.

Itzi was already at the rudder, fingers hovering just above the trim levers, following Hamerlin’s course adjustment. She didn’t need to be told twice. Her brow was furrowed, but her face otherwise calm, composed. If anyone noticed the tremor in her fingertips, they didn’t say.

She nodded tightly when Carter joined her. The cabin felt brimming with heat, copper scent, and the distant hum of something approaching.

“I’ve already begun shifting our heading,” she said, glancing at the compass, “One-nine-zero. It should keep us clear unless they’ve got wheels… or wings.”

“Let’s hope not,” Carter said, stepping in beside her and reaching for the ballast controls. “We’re dragging like a sick elephant. The gold’s weighing us down—wasn’t made to carry a royal fortune I figure...”

He flicked a switch with a practiced snap. The ship groaned faintly as the trim adjusted.

Itzi nodded again, suppressing the knot in her chest. It had been her own decision to help recover this gold, this way to justify her ventures in the old continent and return home with a fortune to her family's name. Now they were flying lower than comfortable, slower than safe. It felt like perhaps this wasn't a good idea, it was a gamble. Everything was a gamble now.

“How long before they’re in range?” she asked.

He peered out one of the side panels, jaw tightening. “Depends on their legs. If they start shootin’, this crate’s got enough armor to laugh off a pistol, but rifles may punch through just fine.”

He didn’t bother softening it. The crew needed facts, not comfort.

“We can’t outrun a proper scout squad in this condition, but if we keep our heading and stay unpredictable, they’ll have a hard time tracking us. Hell, they might think we’re one of them.”

“And if they don’t?” she asked

Carter shrugged, “Then we better hope the folks in the gun stations don’t panic.”

She breathed in deep, fixing her eyes on the altimeter. Behind her cool tone, her mind raced. What if they’re shot at? What if someone panics? What if Carter gets stubborn again and argues with the Inburians over the gold?

But she only nodded.

“You take lateral trim,” she said. “I’ll manage the lift and heading. We’ll clear the range. Hopefully.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re keepin’ it together well, I’ll give you that.”

“Someone has to.”

He grunted, impressed but not saying it. Then: “You’re sure the old man knows what he’s doin’, right?”

Itzi looked toward the forward windows where Hamerlin stood, still reading his compass like it was scripture. She hesitated.

“…Yes.”

Carter caught that pause. He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Alright, then. Let’s hope he keeps readin’ the gospel.”

Empire of the Clouds

Itzi – Taking to the Skies

Itzi gritted her teeth, both hands steady on the controls as the airship lurched beneath her. The ballonets deflated, the ballast dumped, and the ship began its ascent—not gracefully, but it was rising. The wind caught them hard, pushing against the hull, and for a moment, the airship swayed like a drunken sailor. Hold steady. Keep the nose level.

She forced herself to focus, adjusting the altitude controls in careful increments, not overcorrecting. She'd studied the techniques, knew the theory inside and out, but now? Now it’s just me, my hands, and this ship.

The engines roared, the pressure gauges fluctuated slightly, but everything held. It’s working. She exhaled through her nose, fingers tightening, eyes flicking over the instruments. No amount of theory could replace experience, but hell if she wasn’t earning it right now.

“Come on, girl,” she muttered under her breath, as if speaking to the ship itself. “We’re not dying today.”

She spared a brief glance out the window. Below, the fortress was shrinking, the ground falling away, but the ridgeline—the horsemen—were still visible. Itzi felt her pulse hammer, her gaze retuned to the skies where she hoped they'd find safety.

Carter – A Helping Hand

Carter was gripping a support beam near when movement caught his eye. Nikos, tearing across the yard like hell itself was at his heels.

“Shit,” Carter muttered.

The ship was rising fast, the mooring lines already cut. If Nikos didn’t reach the gondola now, he wasn’t reaching it at all.

Carter let go of the beam and lunged, cursing at himself all while at it. Grabbing a thick net still hanging from the hull the mainer braced himself against the deck, extending a hand out toward the sprinting Inburian.

“Move it, sailor!” Carter barked, arm outstretched. If he jumps, he might just make it.

Empire of the Clouds

Likewise. Lost a true G

Smoke and Steel

Alberic Thorel

Port of Rodelkog

---

The harbor was alive with the sound of waves lapping against the hulls of ships and the rhythmic calls of sailors preparing for departure. The air carried the scent of brine and wood tar, mingling with the distant scent of roasted fish from a nearby market stall.

Inside a small, dimly lit cabin near the pier, Alberic sat alone at a wooden table, the flickering lantern casting long shadows on the walls. The parchment before him bore the ink of his restless mind, his quill hovering for a moment as he contemplated his next words.

The war was moving faster than he had expected. Would Andronika and Coralie truly work together, or would their ambitions rip them apart before the real fight even began? Mainland rulers had a way of turning allies into rivals faster than any storm at sea.

But deep down, Alberic cared little for who sat on the throne of some shattered empire.

The Isles were what mattered. Vich, Emiddly, Favis—his people. Coralie had brought so many Corsairs to her side, more than he thought possible. If she had that much sway, what did that mean for the League? Did Gerart and the Council of Captains still hold any power, or had they become little more than ghosts in an era they no longer controlled?

His real loyalty lay with the League, with the dream of a united Circle Sea, and more importantly, with Aonène.

She was the true Uniter, the one who could break the cycle of blood between Vich and Emiddly and forge something greater. But she was out here, tangled in the affairs of landlocked wars, when she should have been back rallying the isles, standing before the League, and taking what was rightfully hers.

With a frustrated sigh, Alberic sealed the message he had just finished writing—a direct call to Gerart and the others. A plea, or a warning, depending on how they saw it. Coralie was rising, and if the League didn’t move soon, they’d be answering to her instead of calling their own shots.

Just as he finished, the door to the cabin creaked open, and one of Coralie’s messengers stepped inside.

“Message for the League?” the man asked, eyeing the sealed parchment.

Alberic handed it over. “Sealed and ready. Make sure it reaches them.”

The messenger took the letter and, without hesitation, pulled another scroll from his belt, wrapped in deep crimson ribbon and sealed with wax.

“This one’s for you,” the courier said.

Alberic furrowed his brow, taking the scroll. Coralie’s seal. He turned it over in his hands, but before he could break it open, the courier raised a hand.

“Open it once you’re aboard,” the messenger instructed, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. “Orders from the Empress.”

Alberic gave a slow nod, watching as the man left, disappearing into the bustling dockside.

Left alone with his thoughts, he turned the scroll between his fingers. What now, Coralie?

Outside, the ships were nearly ready to set sail. The war was moving. The tides were shifting. But to whose benefit?

He would soon find out.

Empire of the Clouds

Itzi Ku & James E. Carter

---

Itzi – Prepping for Takeoff

Itzi’s fingers danced over the controls, her eyes flicking between dials and gauges as she ran through the final checks. Everything was primed—engines ready, ballonets inflated just enough to keep them grounded, and the ballast waiting to be dumped. All they needed was the signal that the lines were free and everyone—everyone—was aboard, including the last of the gold.

Her stomach twisted with nerves, but she shoved them down. Now was not the time for doubt.

She checked again—fuel pressure, rudder responsiveness, altitude stabilizers. Everything was where it needed to be. No mistakes. No failures.

Taking a sharp breath, she pulled her pistol from her belt, pulling the side and making sure a round was there. Would she need it? Hopefully not. Hopefully, they were about to take off and leave all of this behind.

But her hands still trembled slightly as she released the slide back in place.

Was she really up for this?

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to home... to the warm, salty air of the Main, the familiar streets, the smell of fresh-baked bread wafting from a busy market stall. A far cry from where she sat now, heart pounding, waiting for the moment they’d rise into the sky or fall into chaos. She wasn’t here just for herself. She had to make it back. Not empty-handed. Not with just a story of how she almost had it.

Gritting her teeth, she tucked the pistol back in its waist holster and refocused.

Just a little longer. Get everyone aboard. Cut the lines. Drop the ballast. And then, they’d be free.

---

Carter – Time to Fly

The last crate of gold swung up on the crane, rattling slightly before settling into the cargo hold with a satisfying thud. Carter exhaled through his nose, gripping the shotgun tight as he took one last glance at the castle. That’s it. No more trips. No second chances. The moment that gold hit the airship, it became theirs.

He turned, stepping quickly up the stairs of the cargo hold and onto the deck as the others followed behind, sweat-streaked and breathless. The engines rumbled, the air thrumming, it was obvious that the crew inside the ship had begun work already. They were seconds away from getting the hell out of here, assuming nothing went sideways in the last stretch.

That was when he spotted Zano and other crew working the lines, hands moving fast to free the last tethers holding them to the ground. Carter smirked, adjusting his shotgun on his shoulder as he called out, “Damn fine timing, Mirazdar. Any later, and we’d have been sitting ducks out here, waiting for an invitation to dinner...”

He didn’t need to explain what kind of dinner, evveryone already knew it’d be lead instead of lamb.

With the gold aboard and the last lines dropping free, Carter made his way to the ballast release, rolling his shoulders as he took position. He gripped the lever, bracing himself. Once this goes, there’s no stopping it. The ship would rise, and with any luck, they'd leave behind the horsemen, the fort, and hopefully war itself, at least for him and those with no interest in fighting for a cause that wasn't theirs.

He turned his head toward Arkadios, Itzi and anyone else in the bridge, calling out over the growing hum of the engines, “We ready to let this bird fly?”