Aaaaaaanyway, so, um. Regarding the Pax Metahumana Superfriends and League of Villainy, should Angel appear just to mess things up even more? Thoughts?
Athinar
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Big Stupid. Veteran from Oldguild.
- Last Seen: 2 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Athinar
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- Athinar 11 yrs ago
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Tactical Roleplaying Operations
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@Cuddle Pot I'd toss out a line. See who answers. Maybe a new IC could bring some attention to it.
@Dynamo Frokane Athinar is on the fallen mast, above the half-deck (where the wheel was). If she was still at the hole, he would've taken the shot at the mast.
@VATROU@Fallenreaper@KaiserElectric LET'S GET DANGEROUS.
And honestly, I don't really mind how it's organized. Do what ya will.
And honestly, I don't really mind how it's organized. Do what ya will.
@POOHEAD189 I will hold off on my post, as I want to give other people a chance to put some stuff in. (Who knows, someone might butt in on our conversation.) :D
Heh. Looks like it was time for Athinar to get creative. Dashing down the stairs, to the hold of the ruined, almost sunk, pirate galleon, he let the ship burn above him. Cutting a circle in the galleon's hull with the Blade, he stepped back as the water pressure pushed the planks forward, and let the water jet into the room, while diving through the jagged hole into the water of the bay. Dispelling the blade, Athinar swam towards the surface, where he broke the water quietly, looking up at the smoke coming from the main and first gun deck.
Grabbing one of the lines that were traditionally tied to the sides of the ship to allow men who were tossed overboard, he pulled himself, hand over hand, towards the half-deck, moving unnaturally quick, like a spider. A cannon went off beside him, the ages-old gunpowder having been detonated from the heat of the fire. So the main and gun decks were most likely aflame. Those weren't Athinar's destination, anyways.
As he reached the half-deck, Athinar was surprised to see more flame pouring out of the hatches to the first gun deck, rather than the firestorm being on the weather deck, where Little Red and he first clashed. The fire was quickly approaching the half-deck, so he would have to move quickly. With the last thirty seconds of his supernatural speed and quickness, Athinar went to where he knew the aft cannon to be, a single six-pounder.
Cutting the cords that kept the cannon from flying back into the helm of the ship, Athinar repositioned the cannon aiming it at the mainmast. Grabbing a burning cord of rope from the stairs, Athinar gave a mock salute to the fighter, and dashed back up, touching the makeshift 'match' (in the classical sense, this world hadn't made phosphorous matches yet,) to the firing hole, which elicited the loud BAM of a cannon. He smiled, even as his right ear began to bleed from the loud sound, and the cannon crashed through the aft railing on the half-deck, raining splinters down on the ocean below.
When the shot crashed into the already-burning mainmast, it caused the flaming canvas, cords, and timber of the ship's sails to crash into the main deck, as the mast itself fell back towards the helm with a creeeeak. With a smash of wood crashing into more wood, and a shower of splinters, the mast fell onto the half-deck, leaving the crow's nest behind the aft of the ship, above the water. Jumping onto the wooden beam, he scanned the burning wreckage for any sign of the enemy.
(Of course, if Rodetta comes up the stairs before he fires, assume he fires at her, and the mast doesn't fall.)
Grabbing one of the lines that were traditionally tied to the sides of the ship to allow men who were tossed overboard, he pulled himself, hand over hand, towards the half-deck, moving unnaturally quick, like a spider. A cannon went off beside him, the ages-old gunpowder having been detonated from the heat of the fire. So the main and gun decks were most likely aflame. Those weren't Athinar's destination, anyways.
As he reached the half-deck, Athinar was surprised to see more flame pouring out of the hatches to the first gun deck, rather than the firestorm being on the weather deck, where Little Red and he first clashed. The fire was quickly approaching the half-deck, so he would have to move quickly. With the last thirty seconds of his supernatural speed and quickness, Athinar went to where he knew the aft cannon to be, a single six-pounder.
Cutting the cords that kept the cannon from flying back into the helm of the ship, Athinar repositioned the cannon aiming it at the mainmast. Grabbing a burning cord of rope from the stairs, Athinar gave a mock salute to the fighter, and dashed back up, touching the makeshift 'match' (in the classical sense, this world hadn't made phosphorous matches yet,) to the firing hole, which elicited the loud BAM of a cannon. He smiled, even as his right ear began to bleed from the loud sound, and the cannon crashed through the aft railing on the half-deck, raining splinters down on the ocean below.
When the shot crashed into the already-burning mainmast, it caused the flaming canvas, cords, and timber of the ship's sails to crash into the main deck, as the mast itself fell back towards the helm with a creeeeak. With a smash of wood crashing into more wood, and a shower of splinters, the mast fell onto the half-deck, leaving the crow's nest behind the aft of the ship, above the water. Jumping onto the wooden beam, he scanned the burning wreckage for any sign of the enemy.
(Of course, if Rodetta comes up the stairs before he fires, assume he fires at her, and the mast doesn't fall.)
Yeah, really, thanks.
Naahdira Saaba
Naahdira saw the crowd, praising them as they left. Heard the shouts of raucous joy, regaling them as heroes. She also felt the glares on her back, when they saw her. Not many knew her, but those that did were staring, anger barely restrained by the presence of the guards and several of the local heroes. She glided through to the head of the caravan, passing through the densely-packed throng, where their leader, Hannibal, was surrounded by reporters. Walking a few steps behind him, Naahdira scanned the street, looking towards the West Gate, longing to meet with the caravan there, but following common sense, remained, walking behind Hannibal.
As soon as they reached the West Gate, she grew exasperated as they packed everything away for the night, and found places to stay, drunk and exhausted. This was taking altogether too long. She wanted, no, she needed to get away from this place. As long as she remained here, she felt uneasy. Like she was watched. Judged.
Hated.
Naahdira had resigned to stay one more night, so, carrying her things with her, she had found her way to the rooftop of the building where most of the caravan was staying. Sitting with her back against the low wall that served as the flat roof's safety railing, she looked up into the sky, staring at the stars, while listening to the raucous noise of her fellow travelers below. She found the night sky... comforting, even though most of the atrocities she has committed have been at nighttime. For some reason, the endless stars let her sleep easy, and she drifted off.
Waking up to the sound of the camel masters of their caravan shouting at the laborers that carried their supplies to the animals, loading them, Naahdira stood up, and gathered her pack, slinging it around her shoulder, jumping down from the roof to a barrel that was placed against the wall, and landing on the ground. Following Hannibal, once again, she looked back once at the gates, before turning to the desert ahead. It felt.... good, to leave, as if there was a pressure that was crushing her that was... not removed, but lifted, greatly. Out here, on the sands, she was free of the dark thoughts in the quiet hours of the night, if only for one reason.
When they reached the Chasm of legend, she would throw herself in. It would be fitting, for her to die as far away from Oasis as possible.
------------------------
After a few hours of decently paced travel, Naahdira saw that quite a few of the caravan were panting, sweaty, and tired already. This caused her to frown. How did they ever expect to reach the end of the desert if they were so... weak? The woman's hood was up, protecting her from the sun while not hiding her face, and her cloak flapped behind her as she moved, walking purposefully, leaving light, almost imperceptible prints in the sand behind her.
Following the front group, a little to the left, and behind, close enough to listen, but not take part in the conversation, Naahdira noted that a man, wearing quite a bit of leather, had the same idea as her. This... made no sense. Why would you go into the desert, on a mission that could take years, wearing a leather longcoat???
Her frown growing deeper as they walked, eventually, she spoke up, without turning her head to the man.
"You do realize... we are going to be on the move for quite some time, yes? Why... do you have such a heavy garb?" She did not ask out of malice, rather, genuine confusion at the, (what seemed to her,) ignorance or defiance of nature's laws.
@POOHEAD189
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