The Skysail Treasure Co.

OOC: Xavier wouldn't let someone help him do repairs, not after all the work he has put into the ship. He's kind of... crazy when it comes to his babies. He might, however, take you up as an apprentice on a later date.

IC: The pipe found home in the Orc's face, knocking it to the ground, the weapon barely missing Gabe's face. "Sorry!" He turns around, watching a lightning bolt strike the deck of the ship, blowing some of the boards up; still nothing that would damage the engines. "We have to get those Thunderbirds taken care of! Lightning is the hardest damage to repair!" He runs up to Gabe, grabbing him on the shoulder. "Look, I'd say six or seven more hits like this and we're done for. Would you like me to do some maneuvers? My piloting isn't the best but it's better to weave than keep a straight path."

OOC: Sorry for the double post; I also didn't realize that Phoenix had posted. Awkward, just tell Xavier that she's got the wheel or something. Anywhom, I hadn't imagined the airship with balloons, I was imagining something more like an old merchant ship with tons of propellers, however, the balloon could work.

OOC: Haha, a long battle Ren? Come on now ^_^ I rarely ever even have battles in my threads so you should just be happy really.

Kich, rather than double post you can edit your previous one and add the OOC to the bottom. Not a big deal, just something for next time. Oh, and you're posting in the first person again ^_^

Phoenix, there was never a vision for the ships set. I said at the beginning whoever wanted to be engineer could do it, which is Kich, but it has still been left in limbo. I like the standard thing you've set out, so let's run with that. If you have any links to resources about steam punk airships post them for the rest of us.

Zed, in terms of feedback, the best I can give is don't try to make your character awesome. Re-read some favourite authors and think about how they write. Most first timers or younger writers get caught up in just wanting to write about all the cool stuff their char can do or cool items they possess (I know I did way back when ^_^) but you'll realize it gets tired quickly and doesn't add much to the story. Instead, genuinely try to be your character, think how they feel and react and try to integrate yourself into the story. The best experiences I've had was when players all helped build on the plot.

Time to move us forward I guess. PHOENIX, can you crash land us on my island ^_^

IC:

“Just wrap it up. You can stitch it later,” she replied calmly. Jade began her work as Sephara grew antsy. She’d only come down to make sure it wasn’t life threatening, and given Jade’s reaction she knew she’d be fine, and she only wanted to get back to the fray.

Waiting was an unproductive thing, so she decided to do something with her time. Kesra was the energy force her people believed resided in all living things. To harness it effectively was to wield great power. At the most basic level, every member of her tribe was taught how to control the Kesra in themselves to produce a variety of effects. For now, she concentrated on reducing the pain in her arm. Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply. Her body was working hard, she could hear as much. Listening to her pulse she breathed deep until she could feel her heart steady. Suddenly her surroundings were more in tune. The Spirit Dancer could sense Jade’s anxiety, but also her calm demeanour. Rage from the Orcs seeped through the wood like water and she could even pick out Gabe specifically, having been around him for so long.

With sudden alarm she opened her eyes and bolted upright. “Woah! Calm down, calm down,” she heard Jade’s soothing voice, but she ignored it. She had felt another presence in the room with them. Her hand rested uneasily on the blade at her hip, but there was no one else there.

Shaking her head she turned, “Sorry doc, I thought someone else was- oh Khutra Nom!” she exclaimed, startled by the apparition that was hovering by the medical supplies. The ghost was regarding her with no fear, but she sensed a profound happiness. “What in the seven hells is going on?”

Jade was looking back and forth between Jasper and Sephara, and when Jasper nodded she knew Sephara had stumbled on her secret. “He’s with me. Sort of like my protector,” she explained. “Anyways, don’t worry about it. I’ll explain it to you after. You’re all set. You should get back topside.” Even her friendly smile did nothing to really reassure Sephara, but Jade was right. The crew needed her on deck.

“After this,” she began.

“Uh-huh,” Jade murmured and smiled again.

Stumbling out of the room she made her way to the stairs, but before she could shift her thoughts, they were shifted for her. Seeing some of the crew members being carried down towards the doctor’s office did that for her. As much as she wanted to get back, she helped deliver the men to Jade’s capable hands, sputtering whatever words she could think of that would ease their suffering. “You’re okay,” she’d said, or, “Everything will be fine. We’ll make them pay.” She liked the last one the best.

Finally, she was back at the stairs, but it was bad timing. What sounded like a bag of flour tumbled down the port stairs, and when she looked across she could see the familiar body of their deputy pilot Yoren, bloodied and contorted. “No! Yoren!” she yelled in anguish. Why were her friends dying.

Without warning the Dawn arched up, and she had to brace herself against the wall to stop from losing balance. Running up the steps she saw Archamae was at the helm. “Nice of you to join us,” she said with some contempt. The woman had her share of problems, the drink was only one, and Sephara had never been a fan. Gabriel said he trusted her though. Had said he understood what it felt like to be broken and black.

Sephara immediately regretted the tone she’d used. It wasn’t the girl’s fault this was happening and even she didn’t deserve that. “Sorry. Just upset,” she tried to brush it off and Arch seemed to want to do the same, because she just nodded and shrugged. “What’s the situation?”

“Seems like most the damage ‘as been done. Only one or two Orcs left. Wait a second, better get ready.” Sephara turned her head to where the pilot was looking and saw a Thunderbird on approach. Arlen was furiously cranking the boltcaster at the front of the ship. The last Shaman dived onto the ship just as the bolt bored holes into the bird. It dropped several feet, but regained its composure briefly. It shrieked and suddenly lightning was tearing through the center of the deck. “Look out!” she heard Arch’s cry and could feel the Dawn heave to port. The quick move worked as the lighnting skidded by the pair and blew the stern boltcaster into firewood. Thankfully that was the end of it, and the thunderbird plunged into the sea below.

Gabe and the crew rushed the Shaman. A great ball of fire shot from his staff and she watched in horror as another friend howled in pain and threw himself over the railing. Swords belonging to Kaltor and Gabe stabbed indiscriminately into the final attacker, but the damage was done. Smoke wafted from various places on the ship, including the starboard turbine. Chunks of wood and metal lay scattered everywhere, as did the dark red stains of blood and gut. From her right she heard a sputtering noise, and she saw the turbine starting to fail. Arch caught it too, “Better get them strapped in tight Seph. We’re going down.”

Sephara pushed herself into motion, although her body fought her every step. One look was enough to see the crew had been through enough. Out of the twenty-two they had begun with, she only counted eleven still standing. That meant at least 10 dead or injured. They deserved a rest, but the world could be cruel. “Men!” she used ever last ounce of energy to make sure she was heard, “Prepare for an emergency landing! We’re going down!”

OOC: I don't know what it is, but I just can't write short posts ^_^

OOC: Welcome back Pheonix. ;)

Can I throw my hat into the ring that I don't particularly, for if nothing else awkwardness, care for the dirigible-style airship but a heavily modified Galleon-style is still what I envision. With an above-deck and also a glass enclosed (for windy days and bad weather) piloting station, or combination thereof. Sort of like a Convertible car. What i do see though is a set of sails for using the upper atmosphere's higher winds for extra thrusting power. and in the case of a water landing as a secondary locomotive force if they run out of fuel for whatever reason. Kichi also already mentioned a mast too, so i ran with it. (i can change the short mention of it to a balloon rope if I need to.

Geco, you want me to draw something up for a steam-punk design that can float in wetdocks? You mentioned sea ports were converted. I can do a dry-dock design too, or both, which would make it versatile.


Kichi, Geco, darlok, Shari - Check your messages please. ;)

IC:

"Dammit!" Arlen growled, seeing the thunderbird tumble and the last shaman jump off.

"Look out!" a shrill call came, from what seemed to be the bridge. Just in time the ship heaved, and Arlen had jumped. From the movement of the ship, he was a good ten feet above deck now and falling. A cord from the jib of the lower spars, a secondary thrust device to help save on fuel and increase speed, started sailing by and Arlen grabbed it and jerked about as the ship righted itself. That was the second erratic movement in only a couple of minutes. He rather liked when Captain Gabriel was piloting compared to this wahoo.

His arms were already tired from cranking the bowcaster himself and shoving it around to fire too. Those things weren't light, but he was happy the trigger mechanism itself wasn't another taxing effort. He could see it was in splinters and smoking beneath him while he swayed, stuck to the jib. "This won't be nice," he said to himself and let go. It wasn't a long drop, really, but Arlen wasn't so young anymore, he just hoped he didn't sprain anything. Arlen dropped the quiver from his shoulder and braced himself. Swinging, he let go and rolled as he hit the deck. Standing, Arlen brushed himself off and found nothing harmed in his self examination.

"Prepare for an emergency landing! We're going down!" he heard Sephara yell out to the crew. Her voice was strong and unmistakable. Arlen rather fancied the young woman the few days he'd been aboard. She had a point though, he saw smoke trailing from both rear turbines. In a morbid realization, Arlen realized that they hadn't really gone over the procedures for a crash landing.

Running below decks to his cabin, as he saw a few others doing that still lived, he planned to jump under his cot, which was securely bolted, and hang on with sheets around him as a little padding.

If the hull didn't take the crash, they were dead anyway. Might as well be crushed by a massive weight.

...

Only posting here so I can see my name as the last poster in all the threads. What a jerk eh?!

...

The battle wound down as quickly as it began. Cyradis was leaning on her knees slightly as the immediate threat passed. There was still some fighting with a couple living orcs middecks when the ship suddenly putched upwards. Cyradis flailed her arms as she lost her balance and stumbled backwards into one of Arlen's shiney enchanted mirrors. Cluching the railing until the ship levelled out, Cyradis cursed as she heard the thunderbird's telltale shriek. Dangerous black smoke was rising around the ship's port engine.

Sephara emerged from the bridge shortly after alerting the crew to a crash landing. Cyradis smriked cynnically at the thought. What a perfect way to end a rather disturbing day. Cyradis certainly wasn't the only one who noticed how far outside thier normal territory the orcs were. Airship sailors tended to memorized those areas quickly, especially ones who transported potentially valuable carge across it.

The ship turned gently to the portside. Cyradis looked out over the water and saw the tiny spot of green and brown poking out from all the blue. Cyradis went down the staircase and into the bridge where Archamae was carefully manipulating the tiller. She gave the helmswoman a nervous smile. As the wounded airship drew closer to the island, Cyradis could make out a ring of dark sand surrounding a bay on the easy side of the island.

"There, Arch, the bay. Sand and water are better than trees and a mountain side." Cyradis sighed and wiped the moisture from her brow. She hadn't even realized she was sweating. "Mabey I can soften the landing."

She left the bridge and made quickly towards the fore deck. Most of the airmen were below deck in thier cabins praying to survive. Cyradis wasn't an officer - technically Archamae was third mate, a shuddering thought - but she still felt a certain obligation to the Dawn. It was her home now afterall. Plus, she really wanted to live, and if she could do anything to make the landing easier, she might actually pull through.

Casting her senses outward, she immediately felt the weight of her fatigue from crushing the shaman earlier. In hindsight, not such a great idea. Almost a quickly, though, she recognized a very familiar mineral in the sand of the beach. Volcanic glass, otherwise known as obsidian, absolutely saturated the sediment in the bay and the sand and ground soil across the entire island. Cyradis smiled and extended her hands infront of her, plams open. Distorted space rippled around her feet and the wildly flapping hem of her robe. Closing her eyes, the Kellan mage's awareness left her body, as she pushed her power to its physical limit. Truthfully, she was capable of stopping the ship right now and lowering it like a leaf to the ground, but that would probably kill her. And she still really wanted to live.

A mile away, the black sand and small rocks sprang to life, touched by an unfamiliar force. The water in the bay seemed to drain as the volcanic overflow beneath it rose. The distance between the airship and beach lasped in a few seconds. Everyone left alive on the wounded galleon could feel the impending crash. Cyradis, however, was still standing with her arms out. For her, the impact came in slow motion. The keel sliced through Cyradis' prepared sand, but instead of displacing the sand and skipping off the surface, the black crystals clung to the ship like tar. The Dawn's immense momentum was far more than Cyradis could handle, but the helpful sand had slowed the Dawn considerably before it's exhausted manipulator's arms fell to her side as she collapsed onto the deck.

As Cyradis hit the wooden planks, the resistance from the sand quite suddenly relaxed, allowing the water to return and the Dawn to slide out of the bay and onto the beach.

OOC: How much further it goes it reliant entirely upon Geco (however much damage he wants done to the ship). All in all, the effect I was going for would be like a bungee cord without the snap-back. It's easy to pull at first but gets increasingly more resistant. Anyway, I imagine beyond the beach are trees and such... or a village. Civilizations tend to sprout up around bays, after all. As always, if anything is unacceptable, I defer to Geco on the matter :)

And apparantly I can't seem to post under a few paragraphs either >.< Sorry for the length. I hope it's easy enough to read. I didn't really edit this XD

...

OOC: Okay, I've edited my character sheet and stuff, hopefully it meets with your approval now :3

Sephara was fixing her hair, pushing it away from eyes and behind her ears, when he arrived at the bridge. She took one look and disbelief spread across her face.

"Gabe... have you been crying?"

"No. Me... crying... why would I... no..." He had been.

A tornado of lightning and debris and erupted aboard his baby. Horror swept through his body as he watched from the bow as a nice big hole was blasted in the middle of the Dawn. Thankfully it was a body blow, nothing fatal. Kaltor had had to grab his arm and pull him away from the dead Shaman as he'd kept stabbing him over and over, "Why would you do this?!? You're monsters!" he cried through sobs, "Bloody agents of destruction!"

"Gabe, we're fine. I think," she shot slumped over pilot and exhausted mage a look of confirmation, and they both nodded thankfully.

All things considered, the landing could have been worse. "You two," he pointed towards Cyradis and Archamae, "You two... are lovely creatures." Before they could even object, Gabe planted a kiss on each of their cheeks, then regrouped at the back railing.

"So... where are we," he heard his first mate ask and she joined him on the rail look over the beach and towards the interior of the island they'd landed on. The beach reminded him of fireplace filled with ash and charred wood. Beyond was a thick jungle in every direction. And rising above everything was a volcano, towering like a giant sentry to keep an eye on everything around it.

"That's a damn good question Seph. But first things first," he turned back to face his ship. The tide was trying to swallow it, as if it knew the Dawn was dying and had no fight left. His girl was down but not out. Bodies of friend and foe still covered the deck. Pieces of the ship had been flung everywhere, like the limbs of a person. Between the giant hole, missing armaments, cut lines, and smoking turbines... there was a lot of work to be done. "We need to push the ship farther up the beach, make sure the tide doesn't try anything funny."

"Next," he looked over the faces of the dead. Men he'd served with for some time, others new, but all had fallen under his command, and for that he owed them a debt, "I want a count of the dead and wounded," he turned to Sephara, "And I want their names and anything we know about them." She could see a glint in his eyes, she felt the same. Gabe always took care of any loved ones left behind, she'd admired him for that.

He cast his head into the sky and saw the sun had started its descent, "And I want it done before sundown. At dusk, we say farewell to our friends," he took a moment to compose himself, "Everyone gets a rest tonight. They've earned it. Tomorrow, we'll figure out the rest. See to it."

"Aye Gabe." She placed her hand gently on his shoulder and let it slip off as light as a yard of silk.

"You," he said to Archamae, "Help me get those bastards off my ship." Whatever else, the sharks wouldn't be hungry tonight.

OOC: Feel free to skip the night posts unless you really want to. In the morning, Gabe dole's out the assignments and sends to groups to explore the island. Cyra, Arch, and Kaltor head north up the coast and find a pirate/smugglers hideout, and Arlen, Aram, and Seph head inland and find a native tribe. Xavier, Gabe, Meg (the employer whom I need to post for), and Jade stay aboard. We'll be questioning Wintrow (Zed check your inbox) and as for Kaias, you'll have to intro him Quin. Oh, also, no need for the navigator. Your guy will just be a marine/sailor (thanks for the changes, post when ready)

Ic:Feeling the last Orc shaman fall and the bloodlust ebbing away he knew the Orcs were dead as shamans were always the last to fall in battle or they ran away abandoning their charges. he started to feel very weary and wasted as always happened to orcs after bloodlust. he fell asleep. Oblivious to the ship falling. He slept deeply and didnot even feel the ships impact with the sand.

OOC: just a little post untill he is Questioned

JADE

Jade watched Sephara's back as she left. All she could do know was to hope that they would not be too angry at her for holding Jasper a secret to them. She had learned that some people just didn't accept ghosts and that was why many places had been only temporary homes. How could she blame them though? Having an invisible man around was perhaps not something you could easily accept.

<What will be will be, sis. Nothing you can do about it now> Jasper said with a shrug. Ever since he had passed some of his needs seemed to have been subdued or removed. He seldom worried about anything, except for when her safety was in jeopardy. His voice though, had a calming effect on her, combined with the professional string inside of her as more men were carried down to her. Some worse then others. There was a time for worrying about yourself, and there was a time for not doing so.

Soon all worries about her and Jasper were gone, replaced with worries about the patients in front of her. She worked quickly, yelling out orders at Jasper who for once kept silence and sharp. Perhaps he too understood the seriousness in it all. She estimated that with luck all of them would live, burns and gashes that would heal. In time. That was until the deck-hand from earlier, the young boy with a wounded leg, came back. This time he couldn't walk but was carried by two. He had a large gash on his back and was screaming in panic and pain. She quickly cut away his shirt and told Jasper to bring her something to press against the wound to stop the bleeding. She worked relentlessly but regardless of what she did the wound was too big and he had already lost too much blood. Refusing to give up however she kept yelling orders at Jasper. At first he listened and obeyed, but after a while, when only the two were left in the sick-bay, he stopped. She could feel a light hand being placed on her shoulder, tears filling her eyes which she quickly dried away with her arm.

"Stop it. Get me that vial over there! The blue, not the green!" She yelled out, while her hands were still working. His hand, however, stayed on her shoulder.

"Enough sis." Jasper said, outloud this time for everyone nearby to hear. If anyone had looked now they would see a transparent version of Jasper standing behind his sister. To her he was still the same, solid as ever.

"Enough. You have done what you can. Let the poor boy go now," Jasper continued.

"It's okay," he continued, and she could feel him move as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She allowed her hands to drop. "You are going to be fine. Just follow the light and you'll be alright."

Turning her head back looking at Jasper she realised that he wasn't talking to her anymore. Looking down at the boy in front of her, his eyes were dead, staring out into nothing. The hair began to rise on her arms as she felt something move next to her. It wasn't like Jasper. It was something different, something cold, but she could feel it nontheless. Something cold swept beside her brushing her skin gently and then everything seemed to become normal again. The yelling from upside came back and so did the warmth around them.

“Prepare for an emergency landing! We’re going down!”


JASPER

Jasper reacted quickly, wasting no time to feel or think anything about the boy. It was the first time that he had sent someone off to the other side like this. It was not very often Jade had lost her patients, and now, a few years after his death he was more in tune with his new state. No time to ponder on this now though, as Jade's safety was the only thing that mattered.

"Hold on!" he said as he pulled her even closer in his embrace while he moved them to the door opening, grabbing the wall from both sides as his body turned fully solid.


OOC: Just explaining some, I'm thinking that to Jade Jasper is always "solid" and when he touches her she can always feel it no matter in what state his body is in. To others he have 3 stages, or so... something like this.
- invisible and unhearable by anyone but Jade. <only Jade can hear this>.
- semi visible, transparent and audible to others. if he wants to make himself seen and heard, but without needing too much energy.
- solid, just as anyone else, except he can't really die :) Takes a lot of energy of himself and of Jade.
overall can move smaller objects, like telekinesis.

Geco - if you have any objections let me know.

When the airship had tilted forward into a sort of nosedive, Aram had been thrown towards the railing, the only thing that had seperated the cook from a freefall into the waters below. Wrapping his arms around the railing and bracing his feet against the mirror mounts, Aram readied himself for impact.

The jolt of the ship against the sand slammed Aram against the railing, snaping a few posts and leaving the cook half hanging over the ships edge above the water. With what little strength he had left in him, Aram pulled himself back onto the deck and laid there unmoving. Breathing hard, Aram check himself over and was a little surprised at the lack of blood. A few scrapes, a lot of bruises, but otherwise things could have gone a lot worse.

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Aram gazed around the deck at the damage done to the Requiem and gave a mental shudder. Gabe was not going to be happy. The damage was extensive, though hopefully not beyond repair.

Finally managing to rise to his feet, if unsteady at first, Aram made his way to the back of the ship to where Gabe and Seph were leaning against the rail looking out at the surrounding area. He heard Gabe mention a count of the dead and quickly volunteered his help in that respect. Turning to leave, Aram stopped long enough to attempt to console Gabe a little. "Don't worry Gabe. We'll get her back in shape. I promise..." Heading back to where the bodies were, Aram wondered what he had just committed himself too...

It was a hard landing, he was pretty sure, but there would be survivors. Pieces of debris were still raining into the jungle, but he was oblivious to all but the largest, that had lodged itself firmly in the ground beneath what was once his only means of escape from this island, a large raft that was now nothing but a smoldering pile of wood and vines. Kaias could only stare in disbelief, his jaw hanging open as flames began to lick at the single log that was still in-tact after the impact. Another piece landing next to his foot brought him out of his daze, and his eyes gazed through the treeline in the direction of the crash.

Muttering under his breath, he began to make his way through the foliage, his mood softening somewhat as he spots more debris and even body parts strewn throughout the jungle. "Maybe it was worse than it sounded," he says quietly, finally coming upon the wreckage. The survivors were rushing about, fighting against flames and the tide as they attempted to save what they could of the ship in the dwindling sunlight. "So they're probably not going to give me a ride either," he mutters, retreating back into the forest. He'd give them a proper greeting in the morning, after he made sure his camp wasn't in the same shape as his raft.

ooc: wow this thread jumped at speed, took one day off from reading it and it jumped two pages.

IC:
Bleddyn had fired an arrow or two, he had no idea if he had hit anything in the heat of the battle, and when some orcs got on deck he had drawn his rapier, he had been sure he had killed one.

The feeling of his blade peircing flesh, albeit to save his life had not left him. Bleddyn had also been shaken by the landing, but surprisingly in the comotion he had nothing to show but scratches. The morning after the 'landing' he had woken after a fitfull nights sleep, watching himself stabbing the Orc over and over again.

Leaving his cabin, he noted everyone seemed to have a a job to be doing. Bleddyn watched the people organising themselves, being ignored by all. Bleddyn assumed he would need to prove himself, he also wondered when the captain, or the fierce-looking first mate would come and have a conversation about his actions as a stow away.

Bent over a table of sketches and reports Meg continued to study the various papers with the help of an enchanted crystal. She heard the thumps, the shouts and screams, but none of it mattered to her. What did matter was the inability of whoever was handling the controls to keep the sky-blasted ship straight. Annoyed, she simply extended one foot and used it as a brace against the cabin wall. A sudden lurch upwards made her table slide towards her, causing her copies to go every which way.

"I thought the whole point of airships was that it was less turbulent. If I wanted to experience waves, I would have strapped myself to a skiff," she spat as she threw the table back against the wall.

Just as she had put everything back in its proper place there was what sounded like a tiny explosion. Her stomach lifted into her chest, and her papers flew off the table once more as she got the distinct sensation they were, with no great restraint, going down now.

"Maybe try hiring a competent crew next time Gabe," she managed to laugh at the inconvenience. Snaking her vision across the mess of folded and crumpled papers she thought maybe the world was giving her a sign it wanted her to fail. That wasn't entirely correct. Someone had figured her travel arrangements, and someone who tried to stop her, perhaps succeeded.

As the ship continued its fall she waited for the big boom... it was the easiest way to tell if she'd still be employed tomorrow.

......

She felt warm. Warmer than she'd been the past couple of nights. Squinting to saw the source of the heat was none other than the sun itself which was slowly covering her bed. A new decoration leftover from the Orc attack.

Out in the hallway Sephara was standing in front of a door with a stern look on her face. Meg couldn't believe the beautiful woman had never had a lover, plenty must of tried, but boy was she missing out. Gabe's firstmate was guarding the cabin where they'd put the Orc. Some people's sense of justice had that distinct fatal taste after all.

It was early, but it looked like she was one of the last to wake. Most had gone to bed early last night, weary from battle, death, and burying their friends. There was a lot to do today.

She tracked down Gabe easy enough and waited until he'd finished assigning duties. There'd seemed to be a couple different teams getting together to explore the island. It was a good idea considering they didn't know how long they'd be here for. I'm the upside she was sure she'd get to taste some exotic fruits she'd never had before.

"Captain," she addressed him.

"Huh, oh, morning Meg," he sounded defeated, wounded at the very least.

"Tough day yesterday huh?"

"Well it sure as hell wasn't easy," the Captain didn't seem to have his humour-shield up today. He caught her gaze with one eye, "My apologies for not checking on you, but there was a bunch of Orc raiders that needed to be dealt with. I thought you'd be safest in your bunk."

"You thought correctly," she smiled sympathetically - the man had taken enough of a beating. "So, plans for today?"

"Lots to do. It would seem we've crashed on the eastern half of the island," he pointed in two separate directions, "Some of the crew thought they saw buildings up the coast. I'm sending Cyradis, Archamae, and Kaltor to check it out. Aram, Arlen, and Sephara will go inland. Look for food, wood, and a fresh water source. The rest of us will start repairs."

"And the Orc who came aboard yesterday during the fight?" she questioned innocently.

Gabe eyed her suspiciously for a moment, but must have decided against mustering any kind of resistance, and instead simply asked, "What's your interest?"

"Call it professional curiosity," she grinned, but her answer didn't seem to be enough, "I'd like to find if they were attacking us specifically, or a ship they saw. There's a lot at stake after all."

After a moment the brown-haired Captain grunted in concurrence. Today, the wrinkles on his face somehow seemed that much more prominent. "Well, I'll let you know when we-"

"Now," she cut him off. When it came to information, she'd never been a patient woman. It seemed to take Gabe awhile to respond. She waited for an angry rebuttal. A rebuking for 'challenging the Captain', or even for him to strike her. That last option was a long shot given what she knew about the man, but you didn't always know exactly how someone would react when pushed.

"I don't really feel like waiting either," he chuckled, and a smile crossed his face for the first time that morning.

"Wonderful," she replied, "I'll wait for you outside the cabin." She crossed to the starboard stairs, he boots making loud audible taps that echoed off into the jungle. "Oh," she said sticking her arm out without turning, "And he wasn't on the ship originally when I came aboard."

Three. Two. One.

"Oh come on!" she heard him cry and unleash a strain of profanity that would have re-virginized a whore. "Someone grab him and bring him down now! Jade! Prisoner's cabin now!" Apparently she wasn't the only one with little patience.

Together with Jade and the stowaway they burst into the makeshift jail. The Orc still lied tied up and seemed to have already woken up. Gabe pushed the strange man down on the bed beside the Orc.

"You," he said pointing at their pointy-eared guest, "Start talking."

OOC: SoHee, Gabe just wants Jade in case he needs to drug the prisoners with a truth serum. Jade wouldn't have it, but it's a tactic he's willing to try if necessary. Placebo effect ^_^ We'll see how Zed and Quin rp it.

Zed and Quin --> you guys are posting in the present tense. Please make sure all posts are in the past tense.

Mike, was wondering if you were still going to join us. A good pace means a good thread usually, so I'll take it as a compliment ^_^

...

Jade was exhausted by the time she crawled into bed. After the, more than a little, rough landing she had felt drowsiness fall over her like a heavy brick of stone. The day's event was not the only reason. She knew by looking at Jasper and the way he interacted with his surrounding that he had changed into his physical form. She had objected loudly at this, seeing that her work had only just begun. Energy had been pulled out from her, and yet she needed to see to the wounded on top. The wounded and the dead. He had argued some with her saying he had only done it for her. Yet again she felt that she couldn't stay angry with him. He, her brother, had always been looking out for her when she needed and never had she been required to ask. He was sitting, or soaring, just above the edge of her bed by the time her eyes closed.

The next day when Jade woke up it was with a slight headache. After quickly getting dressed in a simple dark-blue dress, reaching the top of her knees, she pulled on a pair of light brown leather boots.

"I'm just gonna head down to the kitchen first and see if I can get ahold of some lemon or apples," she told Jasper who was lying stretched out on the bed. He quickly sat up, looking at her.

<Got a headache?> he asked as she busied herself with braiding her hair.

"It's not that bad, but yeah," she replied.

After a quick detour to the kitchen, finding both apples and salt, she went up on deck, followed by Jasper. Everyone already seemed busy and about, and feeling a little bit in the way she went off to one side eating the apple, of which she had already removed the upper rind and sprinkled some salt on. With any luck her headache would subside after a while. Jasper was hovering nearby, while watching the destruction of the ship from yesterday.

She was not able to stay idle for long though.

"Jade!" It was the captain that told her to follow down to the orc's cabin.

"Coming!" she replied and made a quick detour by the infirmary to pick up her black bag. Her medical kit where the ground essential could be found. She caught up with them just as Gabe threw the other newcomer on the bed, not sure what to really expect. Jasper, having followed them down directly, was hovering not far from Gabe, grinning broadly.

Cyradis was barely concious when she hit her mattress. Commanding billions of particles of glass-sand was dreadfully taxing. She was glad she did it, though, as the Dawn would have likly ended up a quarter mile inland had she not, and they'd be searching the jungle or forest or whatever was out there for enough scraps to make the Dawn seaworthy, forget airbourne. So it was that the young Kellan was asleep long before most, and she woke the following morning feeling a bit guilty about that.

Dismissing the utter wreck her cabin was in with a dejected sigh, she changed into a clean woolen robe and made for the deck about a half hour after the sun broke the horizon. Some of the crew was up already, gathering broken bits of the ship from the bay and beach. The tide was pushing what fell off after the crash towards the island, and some of it may even be useful yet. The scavengers had set up a temporary walkway to the beach on the starboard side and Cyradis used it to reach the sand below. Once on the ground, she crossed to the port side where the tunderbird had blasted the ship. The charred hole from its attack was not as bad as she expected. Apparantly the damage was more mechanical. The blackened portside turbine was evidence of that.

Looking towards the treeline, Cyradis spotted the volcano, lording over the skyline. This entire island was the result of that thing errupting, over and over across the century until finally breaking the surface. For thier sake, she hoped it was feeling pleasant. Judging from the amount of obsidian in the sand, and the distinct, sparsely vegitated trail leading away from the coastline, they were directly in the path of a lava floe. She could imagine a stream of lava flowing off the vlocano's face and turning the entire bay into a one big steam cloud. At least she'd have plenty of obsidian.

Back on deck, most of the crew was now up and about. Cyradis wondered if Aram would be cooking anything, but a trip to the galley reaveled only various fruits and cheeses and some bread - the first things that would go bad if thier visit to this island became extended. Cyradis helped herself to a cut of bread and noticed she wasn't alone in the room.. Archamae was off to one side silently eating some strange food Cyradis had never seen before. She sat next to the pilot after filling a stoneware cup with water.

"Nice flying yesterday. I didn't know the Dawn could turn that quickly." Cyradis took a couple bites and a drink from her cup, "Any idea what the plan is for today? I haven't seen Gabe around.."

OOC: Geco - check your email with details on the ship. Let me know if you get confused in the various pictures. It is actually QUITE spacious. two below-deck levels, split keel design for landing, needing only two landing arms. Really though, they're just to make sure it doesn't rock back and forth on land. Cabins actually take up two levels and two rows, one per keel. There is a bulk hold for cargo, and a level below that for other goods. It is accessible by the kitchen, and also through the bulk cargo level by ladder (when the large hatch isn't blocked a ratchet mechanism can open it for the cranes on docks to lower supplies like water and stuff). As far as I can tell, it's sea-worthy. the turbines are actually detachable, if required. For maintenance or whatever.

The lowest level in the aft is two engines, one for each set of turbines (front and back). Gabe is just below the bridge, and Sephara just under Gabe. Sephara is on level with top deck while Gabe is one level up. The bridge also has navigation tables. Bridge is glass enclosed for 360º.

Turbines in front for steerage. Three sails. One spanning between the V mast, two on other side of the ship. What I DID neglect to put in there are the bowcasters. No worries, they can be added.

If anyone wants to see it, let me know. I'm not going to post imageshack links unless Geco wants to use it.

Sorry Arch, I'm just not sold on the balloon. :\ Never really liked it, even in FinalFantasy. Just throwing another option out there. (Soo much surface area, inability to see up for a proper bearing with a sextant - very crucial - and also also with all that surface area, crosswinds and such could batter the ship and twist the lines in a bad storm to the point of utter wreck)



IC:

The strange floating feeling of a ship going down as fast as a rock with a paper sail fairly intoxicated Arlen while he lie under his bunk. After hitting his head in the crash, and promptly experiencing blackness for a period of time, he drug himself out of the small cave of his bunk and groggily made his way top deck. In short order, Arlen saw the bitter harvest of violence. He was never a fan of it, but from time to time saw that it was the only resort. Though a temporary solution, good rarely sprang from it, if ever.

Arlen had heard talk of a settlement inland and of a sheltered bay with a port of some kind by a few rattled shipmen. Arlen, with little reservation immediately went to speak with Gabriel on the matter and it took little convincing to let Arlen grab a fellow deck hand for a jaunt into the wild. An hour later, though they found no water, he had brought a few samples of fruit he'd encountered before and knew to be safe to eat. They would be hydrating enough if not over-eaten. Arlen had, though, seen some recent sign of life. There were no large animals on the island, mostly birds, so it had been human. As such though, that meant fruit and fish were the diet prescribed by nature.

Having reported these things to Gabe just as the sun had set and the moon gleamed a bright white, he called it a day and went off the clock.

The next morning brought its aches. A short battle, a long couple of sore days following. Thankfully not so bad this time. The rush of a fight and a crash do some pretty interesting things to a body. The ship was a little worse for wear than he was though. It would take at least a week to make her seaworthy enough to slowly tug to the bay. Probably another week of round-the-clock work to get her flyable. Thats if the parts were readily available.

Trodding into the galley after a short discussion with Gabriel, and getting his Captain's orders to go inland to the settlement, Arlen decided to get a bite to tide him over before entering the dense flora. Additionally, he'd ask the engineer about things he needed. Perhaps they could find rubber plants or other things out there he just had to keep an eye open. At the least, he'd look for resin-thick plants to clot the hemorrhage of the sea-water into the ship wherever there was a leak. Pine trees could make pitch and tar and they seemed to be most places. Additionally, hardwoods would be a prime.

"Wise man, that Gabriel Solomon, deciding to get on friendly terms with the natives of the place," Arlen said to the two ladies in the mess, eating some Julantula, a red spiky fruit. "Careful with that, by the way. It can be a harsh laxative if you eat too much, heh. Otherwise, it's quite tasty!" Grabbing an orange-like fruit with a very thin skin, he produced a small knife from a drawer and started slicing it up. It wanted to be eaten and tossed away. Must have been a fruit someone brought with them, and eaten by humans on the island. No animals were large enough, probably, to otherwise sustain it's method of growth here.


Arlen plopped the first slice into his mouth and savored the sweet juices. It had been a while since he'd had the pleasure of a new fruit. Must have come from a nearby larger landmass. A couple hundred miles away perhaps. "So where do you two hail from? Hmm?" Arlen asked, then pointed to Cyradis, "I know you're a Kellen, but one never knows if that's where you call home."

...

Ooc:have I been posting in present tense? If so I didn't realise sorry will try not to from now on. And sorry for taking soooo long to reply had internet troubles.

@jolly rensha can you send me those airship designs so I have a better idea what the ship looks like?will pm you my email

Ic: Wintrow heard footsteps outside his door and tried to sit up but this was difficult because he was tied up. The door opened to admit two men and two women. One man was thrown in a corner by the other the man in the corner had the look of some minor nobleman. The other man he assumed was the captain or the mate, because he had seen him giving orders as he landed arrived. the strange woman holding a medical case must have been a doctor or nurse at least. The other woman had little oddites about her and he couldn't tell what position she held if any. "Thank you for your hospitality" he said sarcasticly "my name is Wintrow Mesprit I guess your wondering why I am here. The answer is simple about five days ago now a stranger came into my village and paid the chief to send a raiding party to destroy the Dawn Requiem. I did a little eavesdropping that day and over heard the word Shandalaar. l decided to try to join the party that had been sent to destroy your ship I had planned on helping you out from the air but things didn't quite go to plan especially the part where I became a prisoner. Does that answer your question? Do you have anymore?." He sat on the bed and waited for one of them to answer and also introduce themselves, smiling all the while like the foolish orc he was trying to be.

OOC: We're going to be going with Ren's designs. Feel free to post them up and give us the links. I think it's a very cool concept, and different from what I've typically seen, and I too never really liked the zeppelin design.

Zed, it was something minor I saw. Although, I'm going to sound liked a broken record, but please pay more attention to grammar and editing. Your last post was like your first.

Also, for both you and Quin, since you are new, I'd ask to try to put a bit more effort into your posts. 1 or 2 quick paragraphs will get the job done, but what I'd personally like to see is more effort on the story aspect. Creating atmosphere, writing vivid description, developing characters, etc.

IC:

Gabriel merely curled his tongue at the Orc's sarcasm. Was this idiot trying to get himself killed. His friends had just killed a bunch of his, so it didn't seem like the best tactic. Then again, he figured he'd be a bit testy too if he'd been bound and locked up for over twelve hours, so he let it slide.

Wintrow's, as he'd named himself, explanation was quick and to the point, and it brought several thoughts to mind. Not the least of which was the mention of Shandalaar. Why would someone pay to have their ship attacked? Was there competition trying to beat him to the mythic city? Why even tell the Orcs the name at all? They had no need to know what the ship was doing, only that their mission was to kill or delay the Dawn.

Twirling his rings around his fingers and casting quick glances in Meg's direction Gabe was feeling more confused and angry than before. One arm he folded across his chest and he rested his other elbow against it, chewing on his forefinger in thought.

"Well, it was actually a rather piss poor answer Wintrow, but at least you tried," he felt no need to be amiable at this point. "Why would you want to join our crew in the first place? Orc's tend to keep the company of other Orcs. They don't play well with others. So you'll have to forgive me for being suspicious, but it seems rather convenient that your brood finds us in the middle of the sea and that I have a stowaway aboard my ship. Is this all part of your plan? If you were supposed to destroy my ship maybe your party took precautions and had a backup plan? I'm not saying your kind are overly intelligent, but why not send a supposed traitor into our midst? Gain our trust, play loyal crew member, then sabotage from the inside? In case the raid failed, just as it did? Hmm?" he accused Wintrow, but he was only going to get a denial anyway.

"You'll have to do much better if you want me to let you out of those bindings I'm afraid," he said shaking his head. "And you," this time he addressed the man, "What's your story? I suppose you came to give us all a million gold crowns and make us rich beyond our wildest dreams eh?"

Ic:Wintrow watched the man who must be the captain grow angrier on every word that he said. The captain then turned his back on Wintrow and addressed the nobleman who turned out to be a stowaway. Why would a noble be a stowaway? Wintrow glared at the captain he would have swore he should be boring holes into the man's back. That sort of thing happen all the time he was so sick of people turning their back on him.

First his father before he was born then almost every orc in his tribe, and now the captain of the ship he had escaped to would he ever feel loved or at least accepted by anyone. If he kept thinking of it he would only grow more angry and irrational so he concentrated on another subject. He wondered how badly the ship was damaged and if it would take long. Which brought him to how badly he wanted to help feeling partially responible for the damage even if it was caused by his dead "Friends". Which then brought him back to being stuffed into this cabin then ignored by the captain.

Ooc: lol the irony that's almost exactly how I feel at the moment with what geco said and not being able to talk to him.

Finishing up the assessment of the damage on the ship, Xavier flipped down the caps on his welding goggles and lit up a torch that he had built out of a small steam engine. He began to work on part of the railing, connecting the two broken pieces back into one. He finished, flipped the caps on the lenses and smiled. "Wonderful."

He looked up at the sun and wiped some sweat from his brow on his sleeve; it was a little warmer than he liked on this island. Out of all the trips and missions he had gone on with the Requiem Dawn and it's original crew, he saw little of the fighting or of the actual outside. No, he was normally busy fixing things, making sure everything was intact; this was as much his ship, in his eyes, as it was Gabriel's. He nurtured it, helped it grow, helped it when it was sick... it was like a child.

He put the torch down on the wooden deck of the ship, retrieving a piece of paper from his pocket. He had made several notes on it, some crossed out, some starred, others had other notes next to them. He made his way down to where Gabriel was interrogating the Orc that had claimed friendship just a few days earlier. He passed a few faces along the way, most of them who's name he never bothered to remember; they usually came and went with jobs- Young kids looking to make a quick buck, people working as a deckhand for a free ride to the next town. They never stuck around.

Knock knock knock. "Gabriel?" Xavier asked, pushing the door to the room open. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I would like to go over the notes I made on the repairs and current state of the ship." He pulled out another piece of paper, containing a rough sketch of the ship, parts of it exed out, other parts with 'modifications' drawn around it. He handed it to Gabriel, letting the captain look it over for a moment. He nodded at Meg, "Hello, lady."

He cleared his throat and pulled the goggles off his eyes, letting them rest on his forehead. "To be honest, the reason why we're in the situation we're in is because the ship was zeppelin based- the balloon is what caused most of the trouble. With what little resources here on the island... I don't think there's much we can do other than get Miss Dawn here into water-sailing condition, and resew the balloon into sails. Judging by how far out we were when we crashed, I'd say we'd be able to make it to another port in about three or four days, granted nothing else happens."

He looked up from his fingernails, hating how dirty they were. He was never dirty. His clothes were filthy, he hadn't bathed as he was busy with the ship repairs, and it was hot. God damn it. "What's with the Orc?"

...

OOC: Sorry but it has to be done. Just in case anyone is unclear, what happens on the island is up to the lot of you, I'm taking a rest from driving. Obviously the goal is repairing the ship and being on our merry, but we need stuff (I'll let you decide what) to do that. I've created the context and given players certain situations to face, and you guys are free to make up the plot for a bit, and I ask and require that you do. It is my method of better integrating players, so we start small, and maybe later you'll be running large plot archs one day ^_^

For those of you exploring the island, GET YOUR BUTTS MOVING ALREADY! For those staying behind (namely Kich, Quin, and SoHee) if you want to talk about anything or have any cool ideas to run by me, just send me a msg and we'll make it happen.

Zed, do you have msn or skype? Even gchat? We need to talk. I would guess you're fairly new to RPing, and you seem to have passion for it, but I don't see the improvement I expected. I'd like to just talk to you and find out your story so to speak and see if that will let me help you better. For now, I'm putting your char in stasis mode. I have no problems letting you continue if I see you getting better, and we obviously need players here on our forums, but I can't let you continue because, as it stands, you're detracting from the RP experience. I'm not trying to be harsh, just telling you how it is.

Kich, nice idea on the redesigning of the ship ^_^ in reality it would be way too ambitious, but let's run with it.

Ooc: sure I got msn its zedpcee@hotmail.com will go on now ok?

Edit: I will be on msn all day if you need me im using my phone so unless it goes flat I will be on its got 2 bars left so it should last a couplle more hours

Btw I can write better just my idea was that my character be very to the point or are you refering to grammar?

OOC: I think zed just got Jade and Arch mixed around, Phoenix.

IC:
Cyradis set her empty cup aside as Archamae rather abruptly stood up and left. The move was not so perplexing that one could not guess she didn't wish to share her history, but Cyradis was lost for an explaination as to why it was such a touchy subject to the pilot. All sorts of ideas about law trouble, debt, and various other reasons that would urge someone to forget thier past sprang to mind, but Cyradis dismissed them. Her reasons were her own, and it was no one else's place to pry the answers from her.

Instead, she shrugged and looked back at Arlen. "Well," she began, "I'm afriad I'm not very interesting. I grew up in Kell, studided at the temple until I was fifteen, then began practicing the magic you saw in action yesterday. Unlike most magi my age, my abilities are still elementary. Not because I lack skill, but because there are so few who can manipulate the physical forces like I can.

"There are others in the past who managed, but I've already mastered what they learned, and they were all at least in thier ninties. I'm basically just expirimenting and trying not to kill myself." She lauged lightly and brushed a rogue strand of hair from her face, "I guess my heritage is the only thing really unique about me. After all, most Kellans spend thier entire lives within our valley. Other nations tend to... misunderstand us. The general consensus seems to be that every Kellan will immolate anyone who offends them.

"That's pure fiction, of course." Cyradis stood and stretched, "So what about you?" She crossed her arms and reguarded Arlen with a investigative eye, "You're from... Illura?" She had no idea. All she knew about Illura was that they were known for making just about anything out of straw, such as the hat - now absent from Arlen's head - she had seen him with before the battle.

...

That night had been harder than most of his nights on the island, sleep coming to Kaias fitfully as he had somewhat impatiently waited for daylight to arrive. Equal parts anger at the loss of weeks of work, and the hope that he wouldn't have to sail away from the island on a shoddy raft had kept him from slumbering too deeply, though eventually daylight arrived, its glaring rays piercing through the leafy foliage of the jungle and, it seemed to him, searing his retinas into wakefulness, as his eyes snapped open.

Yawning loudly, he pushed himself upright in his makeshift hammock and rubbed his eyes wearily. His eyes scanned the small camp, making note of what he could easily take with him, and what he'd have to leave behind, though his gaze pointedly avoided the large piece of metal that was sticking out of the remains of his raft. It had been culmination of several weeks' work, now made useless by what he could only assume was a drunken airship pilot's game of chicken with the island's imposing volcano. Of course, it wouldn't be as simple as that. He had no idea, after all, who or what exactly was piloting that ship. By his reckoning, they were equally as likely to either fill him full of arrows on sight or greet him with open arms, a fellow castaway on a forsaken island full of nothing but fruit, monkeys, and as far as he had bothered to venture about, angry natives.

There was no sense contemplating that now, however. He stretched his arms above his head, and then swiftly stood up, bouncing lightly on the balls of his bared feet. He paused for a moment, staring at the sky, and then grinned. "They have an airship," he suddenly said aloud, excitement building in his voice. It could be made to sail on the ocean, here on this island, and then, it could be made to fly, once it was properly repaired. And he could go with them, he thought, whether they liked it or not. His eyes scanned his simple camp once more, the surge of anger as his eyes passed the destroyed raft significantly dampened by his sudden realization. He'd definitely be leaving with them. They basically owed it to him, really. It was really their fault if he was stuck on that island for another four weeks, or so he reasoned, so he'd be better off bringing along all of his things when he went to greet the island's new guests. Unfortunately, he couldn't will his things to pack themselves, so he began to move around the camp, stowing away what few things he'd managed to save from his own wreck on the island, dressing himself in what he could only hope would pass as decent attire in the process.

It hadn't taken long, as his belongings only included several books, a few articles of clothing, and a general survival pack, and soon he was surveying his camp for what he could only hope was the last time. "Well, you were as close to a real home as I've ever had," he said with the barest hint of longing, before turning away from the camp, humming softly to himself in between mouthfuls of one of the island's plentiful exotic fruits as he strolled casually through the dense jungle foliage, carefully picking his way towards the nearby beach, and the downed airship currently resting upon its sands. "I wonder if they have any pickles," he mused thoughtfully as he continued his trek.

OOC: Sorry for the lack of posts recently. I had about three quarters of a good post done when I decided it was time for bed. I'll finish it in the morning I thought to myself. Little did I know that fate would turn against me in the form of a spouse not paying attention and exiting out of all open windows on my laptop. grrrr.....

Also, I am not sure how rooms are working, but I figure that being the resident cook, Arams room might be connected to the kitchen. If that isn't correct, I can change that.

And Geco, Gabes reaction to Meg pointing out the stowaway was awesome. Cracked up when I read that. ;)



IC:

Aram woke early, when few if any of the others were awake. Throwing on a basic blue tunic and brown overcoat, he made his way into the kitchen. Having spent most of last night going through the bodies for Gabriel, Aram had decided to neglect the kitchen until morning. Now that it was time, Aram regretted not putting in a little more effort.

The kitchen looked like it had been hit by a tornado, or perhaps one of Cyradis' spells. Pots and pans were scattered about, utensils found a home in every nook conceivable, and the cord of kindling for the stove had come undone and the wood littered the kitchen and even entered the mess hall. The hall itself was in little better shape. Chairs and benches had fallen over and into each other. The lunch that had been set up earlier had not been cleaned up when the attack had occurred and the resulting crash had smeared stains into the walls, floor, and roof.

About an hour later, The mess hall was in usable shape, the seating and tables replaced to their original spots. A tray of cheese and bread and a tray of local fruits were laid out on the table for the early risers along with a couple jugs of water. The majority of the stains had come out, though a few looked like they would become a permanent part of the dining room decor. As Aram headed for the kitchen to continue cleaning, he gave a brief smile and nod to the first of the early birds. Archamae, the drunkard of a pilot sat at the table and helped herself to breakfast. As Aram moved about the kitchen, he heard others join the pilot. Jade made a brief appearance grabbing an apple and some salt. He could hear the mage making polite conversation with the pilot. The explorer, Arlen, also made his way to the mess hall for a bite. Others came and went, none spending all that much time to sit and eat. Too much to do today Aram guessed.

The kitchen and dining hall more or less in shape, Aram began prepping for the expedition Gabe had assigned him. He was to head out with Seph and Arlen to see if they could find anything inland. Not being used to wilderness adventures, Aram was somewhat excited at the prospect of wading through the forests, bushwhacking and such. If his temperament hadn't been somewhat dimmed by yesterday's occurances, Aram would have been seen bounding from boulder to boulder like a puppy finally let off its leash. Having packed his bag and slinging it over a shoulder, Aram met Seph and Arlen on deck.

"So, we ready to get a move on?"

OOC: Quick response and IC to follow.

Phoenix, my policy has always been that minor PRPing is acceptable but I've definitely been pushing it to advance the story and keep the pace. I've been doing it even more than usual in this thread. There's a level of comfort we've developed having RP'd with each other for several years and the simple fact is if someone has a problem or wants to reply themselves, just speak up and it can be changed easily. So I say go for it. As a rule of thumb, keep any dialogue to a minimal and as general as possible. I tend to find that works best when PRPing.

In terms of the history, when players started leaving it just seemed to happen that minor powerplays increased and became much more accepted. I think, now, we even see it as a mainstay of a good thread. Never really a discussion, it just happened :p

And thanks Dar ^_^, I hate losing a post, so demotivating.

...

OOC: K geco, the images are located:

http://yfrog.com/0gp9120007j
http://yfrog.com/5dp9120012j
http://yfrog.com/0gp9120026vj
http://yfrog.com/0lp9120009j
http://yfrog.com/0ap9120020xj
http://yfrog.com/58p9120019j -cross section of the split keel.
http://yfrog.com/3op9120014wj
http://yfrog.com/7gp9120031j -Bow
http://yfrog.com/0ap9120008ej -Bow top ; holds shown from top, the holds below bulk are long and narrow, and there are only 2. The bulk holds are on the deck below top-deck and there are 4 with doors that are unbolted and removed.

any questions, please ask. And as far as space, it looks like that is fine for space in the kitchen or attached, for Aram. It also runs off of the steam pipes that are going up that way for the turbines, for heat. Also for a water condenser (fresh clean water).

The turbines should be high enough that it is seaworthy for at least short distances. Since it IS supposed to be emergency that it is in the water. The split keel design isn't ideal for water, but it should work. the one thing that is lacking is a bilge, but *shrug* i don't know what to do with that.

-------

I also use google docs, Phoenix. ;) Handy thing that, and can be used by any computer with access to I-net.

IC:

A little disappointed in Archamae's response, Arlen sat down on the same bench as Cyradis. "Well... Cute," he said sarcastically in an undertone and ate another slice of his fruit. He grinned while he chewed and looked at Cyradis. Swallowing his morsel, he shrugged, "and all I wanted to say was that I preferred not dying, thanks to the two of you. That and good luck in a hideaway town like we have here on the island."

Cyradis seemed to have similar sentiments before she started chatting away about herself. She seemed to be rather centered on her people as a strong identification of herself. Not a bad thing in the slightest. Arlen himself was like that many years ago. Proud of his people and his heritage of which he was now fairly the sole owner of.

He sighed while he continued slicing the fruit. "Illuran, eh?" he replied, the corner of his mouth raising with an eyebrow while he looked down at his fruit. "My dear, you probably wouldn't know where I came from if I were to tell you..." he said, a little tinge of rare guilt popping into his tone. "My people no longer exist. There are about a dozen of my brothers and sisters traveling the world, and I've come along them from time to time to some disastrous result. I now identify myself with where I've been, instead of where I've come from." Arlen knew this wouldn't suffice out of experience alone and chuckled, "I'm a Ciribaqian, from the former tribe of Ciribaque. We were a fairly pacifistic tribe, but proficient where it counted," he offered. Swallowing hard he offered also an elaboration, "Let's just leave it to this, young woman: I've been exiled longer than you've been alive and I am haunted by my lack of experience when it mattered. I understand though that it was all timing, and not my fault. Though it has taken me my lifetime to learn."

Arlen cleared his throat and motioned to Cyradis, "I think Kaltor can hold his own, especially among hermetic types like I think you'll find in town." Arlen tossed the knife behind him onto the wooden counter top where it stuck with a satisfying twang. "You're a fairly brilliant mage compared to many I've seen and traveled with, but you look exhausted. You're no good to anyone too tired, and remind those two of that. Other than that, take some dried meats with you. You need the energy while you travel," he advised. "Get Aram to sign off on it first, but I don't think it would be a problem though."

With that, Arlen stood and bowed to Cyradis, "I suppose I should not enquire into things that would equally upset myself as others, yes?" he said with a melancholy smile. "Good luck." Before he passed through the doorway, he stopped and turned, "I am a little Illuran, as I am a little bit of any people that I meet. I might not be a mage, but I loved being in your valley." Arlen's eye sparkled while he thought of a time many years prior, "There was one woman that tried so hard to teach me simple tricks. I just must not have that spark, I suppose." With nothing else to say he left Cyradis to her morning meal.

---------

It didn't take long for Arlen to get ready. A sword, bow, a quiver of arrows, his journal and extra papers for a ship's log along with writing instruments, and a bag to put miscellany into, including trail snacks. He could never forget another thing, either - his bedroll. They would find a lot of food on the way in fruit and vegetable or mushroom, and probably many birds or rodents. There were no flint to be found on the ship, but that was alright. They would make do.

Speaking to Cyradis stirred some old feelings, good and bad. He'd have plenty to think about while he silently trudged through the island jungles. Aram was the first to sit by the gangplank, which miraculously survived, and waited for his group. First came Sephara, then Aram. Both looked adequately packed, and Arlen had no need of double checking for a hike of this small size. He nodded to both of them as they came and exchanged pleasantries, then clapped his hands together once. "So!" Arlen grinned "We're off!" practically bounding down the gangplank, he was excitedly making a steady practiced pace. New places and people brought a joy and ecstasy that some found only in drink and drug. Not that Arlen disapproved of those things, but they weren't his motivating force in life.

Ooc:So I can't post at the moment that right geco? If I am allowed 2 post will turn this into my Ic

Edit:geco I been on Msn for nearly the past three day non-stop I really really want to get into this and I realise what I was doing wrong so if I can correct it is that ok? Was gonna just delete my last ic post and edit the other one btw where is the stowaway bloke

Edit 2:ok so instead it reads pretty much the same except for the last one so check it out see what you think it doesn't change anything I made certain of it promise

Cyradis wasn't suprised that her guess was wrong, and Arlen was right about her not knowing of his own tribe. The Kellans were fairly well known for obvious reasons, despite have a quite small territory comparitively. Cyradis offered Arlen a smile while he mentioned his stay in Kell, but after he'd left, the corners of her mouth returned neutral and a shallow crease formed on her brow as her eyebrows narrowed slightly.

Shaking her head and sighing lightly, Cyradis took her cup to the kitchen and placed it in the sink, then made for the deck. A short while later, she met up with Archamae and Kaltor. Shortly following, they left the Dawn after a brief good-bye and headed inland. Leaving in the morning was deceptively refreshing as thier side of the island was in the shadow of the volcano. Coupled with a light breeze from the north, the first few hours were actually enjoyable.

As the day pressed on into afternoon, the sun broke over the volcano and showered thier shade with heat. Trapped in the moisture under the canopy, the humid island became a much less tolerable environment. Cyradis' fatigue, as wall as the others', caught up to them within an hour. The purple-haired Kellan was all too happy to rest when Archamae suggested they stop for lunch and quickly voted her approval. It seemed Arlen was right about her not being quite fully recovered yet.

Archamae spread around an interesting mixture of foods. They were all pretty spoiled by Aram in thier diet. Cyradis had a sudden craving for his roast pork. They'd only had it a few times, as unsmoked pork doesn't last too long before it has to be made into jerky. It was certainly his best dish, or so Cyradis thought.

She was still dwelling on the memory of the pork when Archamae's voice broke the silence that had inadvertantly fallen over the heat-stricken group. "It seems unusual for such an island. Might you have a theory, Cyradis. Is it the volcanic soil? What empowers these giants to join us amongst the clouds?"

Cyradis gave her a slightly puzzled look, "Volcanic soil is known to be fertile enough to promote growth, but I haven't seen anything like these trees before. Volcanos on the mainland certainly don't have similar growth." Cyradis touched her palm to the bark of the tree under which they were taking thier break. Almost immediately she could feel a flow of something through the tree, but very deep in its core. Similar to the way magic flows, but still somehow different.

She shook her head, removing her hand, "The trees are very old, but I can't tell you more than that. Geomancy is my least practiced skill." She took a drink of water and wiped her lips on the cuff of her robe, "One thing is for certain, though. This volcano is still highly active. It's probably the reason why this settlement is located where it is. As it so happens, the Dawn is right in the middle of a lava floe, and judging by the amount of obsidian, this volcano typically has very fast moving lava. We should try to get the Dawn into the bay as soon as possible."

OOC: So, are we going to move?

IC:

"Do you know where you're going?" Arlen turned around, slowing his pace a bit. Sephara had asked him a question and he knew he should answer. After all, he HAD been quiet for nearly an hour during blistering heat. It's what he knew.

Arlen cleared his throat gently and nodded. "Um, Yes ma'am I believe I do. The settlement was reported closer to the interior of the jungle. Nothing lives deep into the jungle of an island of this size without a spring by the way," he said, smiled, and turned around continuing on. "It would be a hot spring, so quite clean. You would have to wait for several minutes for it to cool to drink... but you would get used to it quickly if you had to rely on it to survive."

"And how does that tell you where to go?" She asked, a little skeptical of her so-called survival expert. Arlen could almost see her forehead crease in doubt. Sephara had a good point.

Arlen paused a few seconds before answering, though he walked on, careful to leave nature as much as possible the same as before he'd arrived to bother it. "More acidic trees," he said simply. "I move to where the more acidic fruit is. Where the soil is richer, and," he pointed to yet another line of trees, as the sun was blotted out and the landscape was hidden, "toward the volcano itself. More tribes that rely on tradition and heritage than modern convenience prefer to stay where they believe their Gods live. That being the volcano."

Arlen took a few steps and Aram joined in, "But how do you KNOW?" he inquired. He was probably getting thirsty and the taste of sweat on his lip was not satisfying it.

Arlen stopped and lowered his bag. "Let's take a break," he said while picking fruit off of a tree. He sat down and the others did likewise. "The soil is getting more compact. The trees are thinning though getting older, so we are moving further inward. Less trees rely on salt water, or water at all. The incline is increasing and there are larger rocks." Arlen raised the fruit in his hand before he bit into it. Juice ran down his chin and while he chewed his eyes seemed to roll back in happiness. Around the fruit he smiled and spoke, "And the fruit is getting more citric." He motioned for the others to join him in the little snack and to relax.

"Fruit has a lot of moisture, and you're sweating more than you think. For that reason, we can't stop for long. But it is nice to stretch," he said matter of factly. "That and I have a feeling we're going the right way, which has served me longer than either of you have been alive." He popped the rind into his mouth and smiled. It looked like the rind of the citrus fruit were brightly colored teeth, an attempt at comedic relief in times of high heat and low morale.

"Don't worry," he said, popping it out. "We'll have a ship to come back to, and plenty of hardwood to report along the way. What we'll need are axes..."

Where is the delete button?