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  1. #1
    upon the cheek of night

    EXP: 209,214, Level: 20
    Level completed: 0%, EXP required for next Level: 0
    Level completed: 0%,
    EXP required for next Level: 0


    Breaker's Avatar

    GP
    38,525

    Name
    Joshua Breaker Cronen
    Age
    30
    Race
    Demigod
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone

    Red Panty Night [OPEN Althanasday Thread!]

    The waves rolled and roiled like a woman’s curves as the wind carried the Deadman’s Trove across the open salt water separating Scara Brae from Corone.

    Marigold the Freebooter leaned on the prow guardrail of his sturdy three-masted corvette, enjoying the harsh spray on his bearded face. The sun warmed his sifan-clad back as his sharp eyes roved the horizon, searching for the first sign of land. Bulky cloud formations had begun to form in the distance, signifying the nearness of firm ground.

    “Longeyes!” the Freebooter barked the nickname he’d given to his best lookout. “Get ye’ up the mainmast and sit awhile in the nest. Give us a loud shout when ye’ lay eyes on the shoals of Serenti.”

    “Aye, cap’n!” The lanky pirate called cheerily, and then bounded up the thickly bound mast like a squirrel taking to a tree. With his massive hands and slender frame, the young man’s build was perfectly suited to the task.

    Marigold bit back a sigh as he watched his underling climb. Before he’d wrested control from the Trove’s former captain, sitting in the little bucket atop the mainmast had been his duty. He had an eye for horizons, and part of him missed the meditative aspects of simply sitting and scanning for hours at a time.

    He blinked and shook his head, salt-encrusted dreadhawk rasping against the back of his red sifan shirt. Those days were long gone, and he had many captainish duties to fulfill before they reached their destination.

    “Peaches!” he barked, straightening up and turning on his heel. The short, barrel-chested pirate who always had a cudgel on his belt stepped forward from the shade of a sailcloth shadow. Peaches had a strong chin bearing a long scar and a deadly expression in his eyes. Marigold had given him his nickname because it could not possibly have been less descriptive.

    “Aye cap’n?” the solid mate grunted.

    “Do a full sweep of the second deck,” Marigold said, stroking his beaded beard. “Check all the guns and make sure they’re primed and dry. I’d prefer less misfires than we had on the last raid.”

    “Aye, cap’n.” Peaches put a palm on his cudgel and strode amidships toward the nearest ladder hatch.

    “Chester! Arrrrnold!” Marigold called as he swaggered in the mate’s wake, “with me, lads. ‘Tis time to rouse the crew.”

    “Ye’ reckon we’re nearly there cap’n?” Arnold asked.

    The call came from above.

    “Laaand hoooo!”

    ~*~

    “Congratulations on your victory at the invitational, Lord Cunningham.”

    “Why thank you, Frederick. My final opponent put up quite a fight… but I’ve still energy left in me.” The young lordling said as he gazed out at the ocean from the boathouse balcony of his estate. Although he’d been standing there conversing with his wizened advisor for some time, Torvald Cunningham could not stop thinking about his beautiful wife.

    He had bedded her only twice in the year of their marriage; on the night of consummation, and on their first anniversary when he’d purchased those strange foreign spice cakes from a peddler-fae he’d met. The combination of two cakes and a cup of wine had sent his beautiful bride into a colorful mood. She’d donned her brightest red bloomers and straddled his lap in a fashion he’d never experienced before or since.

    But surely his victory at the invitational would inspire such an attitude. If he had his way, it would be a red panty night.

    “What occupies your mind, my lord?” Frederick asked.

    “What? Nothing, just… surveying the grounds,” Torvald said, hastily sweeping his eyes across his property. It was a large estate laid along the beachfront and surrounded by high stone walls which extended out into a semi-protected harbor. Two skiffs and a sloop bobbed at anchor there, all gifts of different occasion from relatives. Within the walls on land there was the guardhouse by the main gate, the smokehouse by the side gate, and of course the main keep and attached stables. It took a staff of thirty to keep the grounds and buildings, and Torvald had another thirty fighters on his payroll as guards. They were mostly a mismatch of local mercenaries, but some had experience in the Armed Forces. All in all, he felt quite safe and satisfied with his--

    “I say, is that a frigate that just sailed into sight?” Frederick interrupted his employer’s thoughts.

    Torvald squinted, following the older man’s finger. “Hard to say at this distance, but it looks more the size of a corvette to me. Probably just the navy doing a coastal sweep.”

    A dim flicker of light emanated from the ship, like a glimpse of distant chain lightning.

    “I say, what was--”

    “Get down!” Frederick bellowed, tackling his lord around the knees and knocking him to the floor.

    The boathouse masonry erupted as the first salvo of cannonballs slammed home.

    [This is an open free-for-all thread! You can choose to be a member of a the pirate crew, a part of Lord Cunningham's staff, or an independent party who gets involved for their own reasons. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions; if necessary I'll create an OOC thread and link it here.]
    Shoot some diamonds and sparks
    from your torso

    -Wax Mannequin

  2. #2
    Ride The Lightning

    EXP: 143,759, Level: 16
    Level completed: 52%, EXP required for next Level: 8,241
    Level completed: 52%,
    EXP required for next Level: 8,241


    Storm Veritas's Avatar

    GP
    21,050

    Name
    Storm Veritas
    Age
    39
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    Pirating came quite naturally to Storm Veritas, however fitting into the background was an undertaking all of its own.

    Iron cannonballs... shit, it's like they cooked up this little charade just to watch me do my thing.

    With a devilish grin, the long and lean traveler feigned a hint of fear as a captain walked by. He was reloading the cannon, pouring a healthy charge of black powder from a thick burlap satchel down the eye-slot, while his newfound "partner", a half-wit named Judd, or something equally stupid, waited patiently to roll the heavy ball down the business end of the cannon. This simpleton across the steel cannon from him was a bit bossy, but the older wizard let him have his moment. Storm refrained from explaining how easily with a flick of a wrist he could fire the cannonball through the mast of that other little ship on his own, with Judd's fat ass still gripping the ball like a pregnant woman massaging her baby.

    "Almost done, just lemme get an even pack; we don't want the big boy to go flying off crooked!" The simple words were painful coming out of Storm's mouth, far beneath him in the grand scheme. He was, at his core, a politician, a silver-tongued con who much more often legislated his way to wealth, and used his abilities to cut corners.

    Not today.

    Today, he was one of them. He was dressed in tight-wrapped cloth himself - mostly browns and blacks, pulled taut as to not catch on any running hooks or swinging masts. The nasty clothes concealed his daggers by his hips, and allowed him to tuck a small pouch of assorted goodies under his left armpit. The clothes also stunk to high hell - a sort of blend of raw ocean funk and the sickening sweet smell of stale sweat. This helped him fit in; his normal clean shave replaced with a third-day brown and gray stubble. He didn't cut his hair, and refused to ruin his spectacular smile. Certain assets weren't worth risking in the grand scheme of things.

    Today, he knew the little ship they raided held some particularly valuable artifacts. As a pirate he was only entitled to a hand's share - roughly one percent of the ship's total take - but as Storm Goddamned Veritas he would take what he wanted and kill anyone who tried to stop him. In all likelihood, he'd slip out with the grand prize - a pillowcase full of diamonds - and be a tuft of smoke before the rest of this crew of fools knew half the difference.

  3. #3
    Administrator

    EXP: 97,145, Level: 13
    Level completed: 52%, EXP required for next Level: 6,855
    Level completed: 52%,
    EXP required for next Level: 6,855


    Philomel's Avatar

    GP
    17,940

    Name
    Philomel van der Aart (+ Veridian)
    Age
    30 (+10)
    Race
    Faun (+ Fox/Earth Spirit)
    Gender
    Female (+ Male)
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    "Oh fu...."

    And all she had wanted was a holiday.

    She stood at the veranda of a private beach house, the sun baring down upon her fair skin. Lord Cunningham was the name of the master of the vast estate she had rented the lodge from, who had land aplenty and small holdings like this one. It was a perfect place for one such as herself to escape to; to forget the worries of life and work.

    That being, it would have been very good, and worthwhile, for the week she had planned of just her and her fox-form familiar, were it not for the sails appearing on the horizon.

    And then the sound of guns. Aiming right at the mansion nestled on the shore.

    "Damn."

    Philomel ducked down, her eyes going dark as she lowered herself below the railings of the veranda, which was barely a cover at all. The ship itself looked like one of an older design than her own, with all white sails and dark wood, though from this distance she could not be sure. Pirates were likely, and these days it was possible because her connections to the pirating community, despite the fact she technically still rented a ship from the Pirate King Malachi, were frail. Instead she was a matriarch and a warrior queen, and that suited her.

    But it was not good that there was an attack. Now. Whilst she was on holiday. How very rude.

    Another boom and she saw an explosion rattling the side of the mansion. Two figures were hiding, likely Lord Cunningham himself and a friend, hunkering down at the balcony of the huge house a mile from hers. They seemed male, which made sense, and were perhaps fearful. What was good was that the ship seemed to be aiming at them, not her - and that was good.

    For now.

    But now she had to make a decision. To stay where she was or run and aid those in peril.

    What was certain was that her holiday - it was ruined.
    Matriarch of the Gilded Lily and of its brothels, associated establishments and the army.

    --
    Characters:
    The family triplet: Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine.
    The god and kenku triplet: Stare, Avin and Vixen.

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