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He moaned, salt-water half immersing him every few seconds. He was in pain everywhere and was afriad to see if he could move. A particularly large wave of salt water made its way to him, this time entering his helm and his gaping, moaning mouth. He coughd and sputtered, slowly cracking his eyes open. At first, the light dazzled him, and he wondered if he had been swept away to some foul elf-place. No, it was simply white sand that he saw, which he identified as soon as his black-blue eyes adjusted to the new environment. He flexxed his fingers and slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. He scanned the immediate area as he still spat out the disgusting sea-water. Bjorn smiled slightly as he looked about. From what he had heard of Lustria, he had reached it. It wasn't quite the majestic entrance he had intended as well as expected.

The damned storm was to blame! He and the norse-men he had hired were two days worth of sailing from Lustria, and that was it! The clouds had quickly turned black, and the sea churned and frothed with the winds. The long-boat was shattered by a massive wave, and he thought himself doomed. He had fallen unconcious though.. and ended up at his destination. No doubt the others were nowhere near as lucky. It didn't matter though, he planned to kill them once he had arrived anyways. They were only sailors, not at all worthy fighters, but still, he had desired some sort of battle. Speaking of battle.. his axes! They weren't at his belt! He gasped in disbelief, looking around the beach. He got to his feet, growling angrily. He would be lost without at least some sort of weapon, and those axes were his only ones. "By the Lord of Change where are you!?" he said angrily. He slowly began wandering down the beach, still aching from waking up.

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RPs:
Warhammer 40,000: The Inquisition Sci-Fi Rp. Go for it.

Gaurok was on his feet fast. Seeing that much mass jump upright was damn near an optical illusion by itself. The boat rocked a bit. An iron-shod club the width of a greatmace and at least a foot longer found its way to Gaurok's right hand, and the act of curling the left into a fist drew attention to the thick, spike-studded gauntlet over it. A mercenary through-and-through, it was time to earn his keep, and he might even get some orc chops out of it. "Shut yer gob, runt. Da boss is paid up, and dat means I beat five shades o' shit outta anyone who backtalks 'im, see?"

Scrabblit was up the rigging fast enough that he was practically invisible. Not that anyone ever paid attention to gnoblars anyways. He tracked the big scary green thing with his stolen hand crossbow. It was pretty much the biggest weapon he could handle, and was enough to seriously annoy some of the things Boss fought with.

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"There are three kinds of plan. The fast plan, the good plan, and the sneaky plan. The fast plan works because by the time anyone knows you're there, you're already stabbing them in the face. The good plan works because they know you're going to stab them in the face, but they can't do anything about it. The sneaky plan works because while you were listening to me explain all this, I stole your sandwich."

Edrik squinted at the sky one last time, then sighed. This wasn't the excited masses of adventurers he'd hoped for, but he could wait no longer. An orc, an ogre, and a beggar. What a group... he felt momentarily thankful that he would not have to spend too much time in their company, and pitied them slightly... there was bound to be squabbling, tensions high in the steamy jungles.

But... three silvers? He should have charged more. Three silvers was less than he earned in a day fishing. Too late now... at least he could charge them more if they broke anything, which, with an orc and an ogre aboard, was a likely prospect.
Glancing at the ogre currently severely threatening his newest cargo, he scowled. If that orc kept on insulting everything in sight, he might not make it to Lustria. He glanced up the mast at the gnoblar, who had already tried to steal his hat, his hankerchief, and his dagger, but had been thwarted - barely - each time. It was going to be a pain. Maybe he could charge the ogre for it? On seconds thoughts, Edrik considered regarding the ogre, maybe not. He didn't want to pick a fight with that.
'Right, people, break it up, we're off. Last chance to get off.' He proclaimed hopefully, but no-one moved. Sighing, he signaled to an urchin on the dock to untie the mooring ropes, and moved to unfurl the sails. When this was over, it would be back to the fishing for him.

The urchin stood and watched, filthy thumb in mouth and three stolen silvers in his pocket, as the boat sailed off into the misty unknowns.

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\m/ Metalhead for Life \m/

Click my dragons please?

Anyone interested in a Warhammer RP?

Sinrasuli smiled to himself as he watched the unfolding events aboard the ship, and even broke into a giggle when the Orc threatened his brother. Served him right, the fool - Sinrasuli had tried to have him washed, but the stubborn man had naturally refused. Of course the smell would go straight through the new bandages. Any traces of corpse juice left in that withered body would be absorbed by them too, of course. If Sethos ever made it back, Sinrasuli would have to make sure he was cleansed, lest the smell alone would drive all visitors from his beloved city. "Woops, better keep in the game!", said the king, making a quick gesture with his hand to lock his brother's legs. In the crystal ball, he saw his brother, who had attempted to rise behind the Orc, fall back to his seat before he'd even gotten off the ground. Chuckling, Sinrasuli imagined what a battle between an Orc and an enraged Sethos would be like. Interesting, that was for certain. The boat would likely not be able to contain it, though, and there was no doubt the ogre would join in. That would be a one-sided battle indeed, and the boat would definitely not be able to contain all three combatants. "So that means you'll be practising some self-restraint, my brother dear", said Sinrasuli to himself, and broke into laughter.

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If your signature is larger than your post, you're wasting space. If your signature is larger than your average post, you need brain surgery. Or a brain.

Alessio hissed in frustration, as the sea sprayed in, throwing salty water over his face. He shook his head and heaved on the oars again, propelling himself towards the shore, pushed by the waves and the tide. The wind was howling in his face, plucking at his hood with invisible fingers, trying to pull it from his face, but he didnt care, knowing his hood would stay down, affixed as it was to his cloak. He had picked a good time to go ashore, he had the tide and the waves at his back, and the wind would push the ship away from the coasts, hopefully to smash it up on the reef just outside the bay.
A savage grin twisted his lips as he heaved on the oars again, feeling himself rise up as a wave lifted him up, and pushed him further forwards. The boat cut through the water, like Alessio's blade cutting through man-flesh, and he made good progress despite the size of his muscles. Strength doesnt matter, if you dont know how to use it, said the voice of his long dead instructor in his mind. He paused for half a second, trying to work out why that particular phrase reached his ears, his face impassive as he did so.
His instructor had said that when he claimed he was stronger than him one day, and it turned out his muscles could not aid him, to try and strike the withered form of his mentor. From that day, he vowed to train his mind, as well as his body, to master the form he had been given, and in the end he had succeeded, and killed his mentor in hand to hand combat, his blades carving the rodent apart as he attempted in vain to defend himself.
Alessio shook himself out of his reprieve, and pulled hard on the oars again, timing it so that he was pushed by a wave at the same time. The boat rose up, halted its upward motion, then came back down, and scraped hard along the rocky bottom of the beach. Without looking back, Alessio jumped from the boat, landing several meters away, and abandoned it, running for the tree line of the vast forest-island.
Reaching the safety of the trees, he looked back at the sea, and saw that his little rowing boat had flipped, and cracked itself open on a protruding rock, now in tow pieces, and the oars were gone. He grinned as he saw it roll over the beach, then looked up at the ship, his smile dropping. It had changed course, and was drifting around the headland, narrowly missing the reef. He shrugged, not really caring, and turned back to the trees. Four steps later, he was gone, hidden in dense layers of shadow.

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"I am not a retard,
I am the retard,
Mr Retard to you."

"Ima crack ya'r fat melon ofa head, ya smelly ogre!" Gorgul yelled, he'd always had to get the last word in, he would do as the captain willed, he'd stop fighting with the ogre. He walked away from the ogre and the beggar wishing he could just throw them off the boat and seeing if they could swim, the thought of it provoked a hearty, bellowing laugh. He controlled his laughter as he approached the nose of the ship, he could see only the less then healthy looking blue-green water, the fish he saw were about the size of his head, he wanted to eat one.

He wondered how orc chieftans lived, he bet they had all the loot they could dream of, and a whole army of green skins to boss around, he often dreamt of this, if it wasn't that it was eating, eating big raw fish, or even cooking up an orc. He licked his lips as he made himself hungrier, his stomach growled at him as well, he sighed, he wondered what kind of grub they had on this ship.

He continued day-dreaming as the waves crashed below him, he was thinking about being in a battle circle this time, he was up against a green skin, they weren't using any weapons or armor, just fist and skin, he of course won, he punched the orcs head into three different shapes, the green skin fell down, dead, or in alot of pain, he didn't care, he won. He snapped out of it when he caught the smell of that putrid beggar again, he growled under his breath, he cursed a little too, he hated things that smelled worse then him.

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I feel it everyday it's all the same.
It brings me down, but I'm the one to blame.
I've tried everything to get away.
So, here I go again chasing you down again.
Why do I do this?
It feels like everyday stays the same.
It's dragging me down, and I can't pull away.
Over and over, over and over you make me fall for you.
Over and over, over and over You don't even try to.
I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead.
I know what's best for me, but I want you instead.

Gaurok ended the brief standoff with a rude gesture, and when the orc stalked off to one end of the ship, he sat back down. Scrabblit crept back out of the rigging and sat in his boss' shadow.

A few hours in, Gaurok woke with a snort. His belly was rumbling. A glance over the rail showed him open waters, and a thought occurred to him. Thinlings fish in rivers and lakes, and catch small fish. Now this, this is like a really big lake. Maybe it's got really big fish?

He poked Scarbblit with a finger like a brautwurst sausage. The gnoblar, to his credit, woke up fast and alert, ready to dive, duck, bribe, or just leg it. Bribe was the right answer. "Uh, we'z got, um, dis bitey thing? Sorry boss, we'z runnin' low. Didn't stay in dat wossit place long enurf ta get much." He dragged a dead squig out of the bag, bigger than a man's head.

"Dat'll do. We gonna try ta catch a fish. Thinlings use worms and stuff, so I guess fish ain't picky." He had a lot of odds and ends on his belt. He picked an iron hook, and speared the squig on it. A length of chain the width of a man's arm made a fishing line, and the hook was tossed off the back rail. Holding the end of the chain, Gaurok watched the hook sink.

A minute later, Scrabblit got bored. "Uh, boss, 'ow long do fish 'untin' take? Coz, um, we ain't really got anyfing left 'sides this bread stuff an', an' dat pinky leg you sed not to let anywun see coz dey'd get all shouty and you wuz tired of hittin' all dem people wif da pokey farm forky fings."

This was practically a speech, coming from a gnoblar. "Wot? I dunno. Lookit that, there's dat thing again."

"Wot fing, Boss?"

"Dat thing. The big fish thing down there. He's after the hook." The chain yanked, and Gaurok yanked back. He yanked harder. It didn't take long to pull the biggest, ugliest fish Gaurok had ever seen onto the deck, where it lay gasping.

"Gor, dat's an ugly bugger, Boss! Wot is it?"

Gaurok looked skeptically at it as he drew a meat cleaver the size of a battleaxe from his belt. "Well, I reckon it's lunch. It's big, at least, an' it ain't fightin' back." He chopped at the middle of the fish experimentally. It exploded into a frenzied thrashing, and Scrabblit was back up the rigging again, screaming.

"AAAAAEEEEEE KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!"

Gaurok kicked it in the head, which didn't seem to do much, so he beat on it with his club until it stopped moving. By then, it looked even uglier. Carving off a handful, he munched on it thoughtfully. He gave the verdict: "Dat's not bad." The resulting feast was gruesome and messy in the extreme, though he showed some restraint and left a chunk to the side for more bait.

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"There are three kinds of plan. The fast plan, the good plan, and the sneaky plan. The fast plan works because by the time anyone knows you're there, you're already stabbing them in the face. The good plan works because they know you're going to stab them in the face, but they can't do anything about it. The sneaky plan works because while you were listening to me explain all this, I stole your sandwich."

Hahahahaeaheahaheaehaha, this was ... fan ... no, he had used that word before. No, this was ... fun ... Yes, fun. Fun was a good word to describe it.

Now maybe he should kill somebody.

(Gonnaexperiment with fighting as Bjorn in the post after this, methinks.)

Bjorn made his way down the quiet beach at a steady and quick pace, stamina fuelled by his armor as well as his own immense strength. He had his hands firmly on his axes, which he had luckily found just a small distance away from him, laying together on the beach. Now Bjorn the Dreadful was quite unsure of where to go, his sudden urge to go to Lustria had vanished. He had a feeling the god was tesing him from here, so he made sure to not look like a lazy idiot and kept up his relentless march. Not that it was normal for a Norseman to express such feelings, but this new environment was extremely relaxing compared to his own home. He wondered why his people insisted on living so far north after awhile. Bjorn was never taught of how the poles held all the magic in the world, so this thought stuck with him for some time. He looked left and right, all he could see was the dense jungle, the endless sea, and the thin strip of beach in between both. He sighed and kept on walking, hoping he'd find something of interest or a sign from his god on what to do now.

Then, after an hour more of endless marching along the beach, he thought he found what he believed was a sign. It had to be, he imagined. Bjorn broke into a run towards the massive dark structure on the beach in the distance. He soon identified what it was, and it disappointed him. A wrecked ship had been beached, and was tipped to the side. Planks were missing from the bottom, and one of the masts was snapped. It reeked of the dead, which was reason enough for Bjorn to investigate. He trudged forward once again, armored boots causing deep impressions in the wet sand. The sand and ship itself was stained in patches by scarlet blood. Drenched corpses decorated the ship as well. A grisly sight, but it only encouraged him to search the ship for something of interest.

Thesbe scowled as the young druchii messenger gave her news from the captain, it was still awhile until they reached the lands of the lizards due to freak storms along the closest coast. Resisting the urge to gut the quivering elf she scribbled a message onto a piece of paper, this made sure the young elf wouldn't tone it down to better his chances of survival. "And run this time you lazy slug" she shouted down at the boy while he was descending from the heightened area of her ship.

Cursing she made her way to her quarters. The room she was given on the ship had been decked out so much, it was more luxurious than her rooms in the city, well almost. Laying down on the silk mattress of her bed she began to flick through some ancient texts on Lustria, "Now what shall we ransack this time....

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Like Mass Effect and roleplaying then why not join the SSV Britannia crew, one big roleplay ,join the crew of an alliance ship, many places open for pilots, marines, civilian staff and more, we badly need members. By the way it's all on the same ship so don't worry that you wont see many people