FetzenBeing off of the boat was a surprisingly refreshing experience. It wasn't as though it changed much, he still felt tired and the ground under him seemed to be moving just as much as the Jubilance's deck had, but it was satisfying to have won out against the sea, and to have come so close to his goal. Elated, John hardly noticed the change in Aldric as they crossed over onto land. They were the last group off, and the time of the Corps seemed to have run out anyway. The woman in the beret came down after them, handing off the census pad to one of the dock workers who would be with the ship for the duration of its stay, for further alterations presumably. She was quick to disappear, walking off towards the town to get back to work. Bast spoke up about the Containment Corps, and that gave him an even better idea of where to set up shop. "I should go there too..." He remarked. They seemed cooperative, maybe they'd be looking for hands like his besides all the warriors. His interest shifted over to Aldric as he jointed Bast in waiting for the man's answer.
The captain was quiet for a long time as he left the man finish speaking and explaining his proposition. The short of it was, they didn't need help. It was common courtesy to take on fair work for fair wages when a ship and her crew could, but his circumstances were abnormal. "No, it isn't," he said, and was about to leave his answer at that. Even he felt it was a little rude. "This ship isn't going anywhere for a while, actually. The Corps was just through here looking for hands, perhaps you should check in with them." He gave his suggestion with a smile, and hoped the man would leave him alone with just that. His inquiring glare didn't drop as he waited for the man's answer. The suggestion to seek employment elsewhere was something he would have given anyone, but now that he was actually looking, Gideon seemed at least equipped for the job. More so than he seemed seaworthy, at least.
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A bruise wasn't that bad, although he wondered momentarily if a bruise would even be visible underneath a layer of fur. It would still be sore but what was he going to do, start handing out ice? It wasn't going to be a problem. Wenigsten looked back over to Aldric for his question, but was startled out of his initial reply by Bast rushing past them towards the dock. Her sudden exit alerted him to the fact that the gangplank was now clear, except for some armor-clad dock worker boarding the ship. They were free to go, and he joined Aldric in his walk across the ramp. "I'm hoping to find a tavern or somewhere that will let me set up shop. Someone is going to have to keep all these adventurers sewn up," he said, answering the stalled question and immediately regretting his choice of expression. "And hopefully there's a clinic with actual tools looking for skilled hands," he went on, trying to change the tone as they strolled onto the pier towards Bast. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure everyone is," he said, dismissing the apology.
The captain was deeply absorbed in his own affairs, long past caring about the offload of his passengers and humming a jaunty little sea shanty as he watched the waves. His concentration was shattered by a question posed from behind him. Captain. He was not used to hearing that title, if he hadn't been conversing with the Pomrians earlier he probably wouldn't have been accustomed to answering to it. The white haired young man turned around slowly to see who was addressing him, some sturdy looking guy he hadn't seen around before nor been told to expect. Lovely. Immediately apparent about the captain was the bizarre shade of orange his eyes were, and they were now locked on the stranger on his boat. They were searching, intense, easily mistakable for angry if the rest of his face wasn't owned by a serene glow and a small smile. "Yes, I am the captain. Why are you here?"
The captain was deeply absorbed in his own affairs, long past caring about the offload of his passengers and humming a jaunty little sea shanty as he watched the waves. His concentration was shattered by a question posed from behind him. Captain. He was not used to hearing that title, if he hadn't been conversing with the Pomrians earlier he probably wouldn't have been accustomed to answering to it. The white haired young man turned around slowly to see who was addressing him, some sturdy looking guy he hadn't seen around before nor been told to expect. Lovely. Immediately apparent about the captain was the bizarre shade of orange his eyes were, and they were now locked on the stranger on his boat. They were searching, intense, easily mistakable for angry if the rest of his face wasn't owned by a serene glow and a small smile. "Yes, I am the captain. Why are you here?"
He'd been about halfway to opening his bag before the stranger stood up seemingly unharmed. He had half expected to see blood streaking the catlike face of the cloaked woman, and was relieved to see that she was fine. It would have been a perfect time to leave but the red head, named Aldric, had acknowledged him and started introductions. The man with the bag paused a moment, hesitating but realizing quickly that this was the sort of group everyone else was in the middle of forming. Smiling faintly, he stepped forward and closed the small distance remaining between him and the two at the railing. "Johnathon Wenigsten," He said, returning Aldric's greeting. "Pleased to meet you all. It's nice to finally be here, eh?" He tried to make talk, as was his habit, although before silence had set in his mind had already crept back to Bast's fall. "Are you sure you're okay? I have gauze and things..." He added, nudging out the bag he'd been cradling against his chest. Practicing his trade had been reason for his journey to Pomria in the first place. There wasn't much he could do even if there was a problem but it never hurt to ask.
Behind him, the deck of the Jubilance had nearly cleared itself between the haste of the adventurers and the efficiency of the Pomrian officers. The lady with the blue beret still stood waiting, occasionally writing down another tally with a smile and a few words of encouragement as the strays on the deck of the Jubilance filtered out. The gangplank was clear for the most part now, with the rush crowd now making its way down the pier. The more organized groups were who remained on the deck, getting their things from the below decks or waiting for their contacts in Pomria to arrive. The day was still young, not that it was easy to tell through the fog. As the other ships pulled in to port and let their ravenous entrepreneurs loose on the town, the streets of Perimeter slowly began to take on life in the distance.
Behind him, the deck of the Jubilance had nearly cleared itself between the haste of the adventurers and the efficiency of the Pomrian officers. The lady with the blue beret still stood waiting, occasionally writing down another tally with a smile and a few words of encouragement as the strays on the deck of the Jubilance filtered out. The gangplank was clear for the most part now, with the rush crowd now making its way down the pier. The more organized groups were who remained on the deck, getting their things from the below decks or waiting for their contacts in Pomria to arrive. The day was still young, not that it was easy to tell through the fog. As the other ships pulled in to port and let their ravenous entrepreneurs loose on the town, the streets of Perimeter slowly began to take on life in the distance.
A whistle blew, and the crew returned from their stay of silence. The Jubilance was coming into port, and her crew made short work of getting the vessel's mooring cables dockside. The deck rocked back and forth gently as the ropes were drawn around the bollards, and then came to a final rest with the ship hugged up against the pier. The officer from before returned from the ship's aft, tailed by the captain. He didn't look the part, a young man with a messy head of white hair. In all truth, it wasn't the size of vessel he was used to skippering but that was what crews were for. There was a gold rush in the making, and his borrowed ship would be at its head. Without a word, the captain took up his scripted position at the front of the ship to watch the Pomrians conduct their disembarking procedure. The officer left his side, rejoining his two comrades at the side of the vessel. The dock workers had run up the gangplank and it was now fastened at the railing. Almost as soon as it'd been brought out the line began to form, those in a hurry to get off the ship. Some lingered, searching for a group. The woman from the Corps stayed even as the other two went to find a rowboat out to another ship, taking out a small pad from the pouch at her hip and preparing to take the tally of people on board as they departed. Slowly, the line began to move.
Among the visitors caught out in the middle of the deck, unsure of where to find his spot in line or who to look towards, a man with a boyish, energetic face wandered. His dress made him seem more likely a part of the crew, being obviously aged and well worn clothing. A loose, tan shirt over black working pants, both of which continued to function as clothing on the virtue of expert patchwork. It was made to seem decorative even though it existed for sheer necessity, with patterned hems and clever placement. Worn elbows became the elbow pads of an older man's shirt. The only undamaged thing on his person was a brown canvas bag he wore over his left shoulder and currently held fast to his person with his right hand. The pockets along its side made it reminiscent of a doctor's bag, which it was to some extent. The man found himself caught out, looking nervously between the few similarly stuck stragglers on deck as he found himself between a tall man in a blue coat and someone obscured in a black cloak. The latter toppled to the ground, seeming to bang her head against the railing. He froze and looked back to the other stranger, looking for some kind of cue. Did these adventurer types just help each other out or was that disrespectful? A tiny part of him pleaded the red headed man to act first, but even still he began to gravitate towards the unfortunate traveler.
Among the visitors caught out in the middle of the deck, unsure of where to find his spot in line or who to look towards, a man with a boyish, energetic face wandered. His dress made him seem more likely a part of the crew, being obviously aged and well worn clothing. A loose, tan shirt over black working pants, both of which continued to function as clothing on the virtue of expert patchwork. It was made to seem decorative even though it existed for sheer necessity, with patterned hems and clever placement. Worn elbows became the elbow pads of an older man's shirt. The only undamaged thing on his person was a brown canvas bag he wore over his left shoulder and currently held fast to his person with his right hand. The pockets along its side made it reminiscent of a doctor's bag, which it was to some extent. The man found himself caught out, looking nervously between the few similarly stuck stragglers on deck as he found himself between a tall man in a blue coat and someone obscured in a black cloak. The latter toppled to the ground, seeming to bang her head against the railing. He froze and looked back to the other stranger, looking for some kind of cue. Did these adventurer types just help each other out or was that disrespectful? A tiny part of him pleaded the red headed man to act first, but even still he began to gravitate towards the unfortunate traveler.
Accepted enough, although the strength of the taser makes me uneasy. I'm against anything that gets itself billed as an instant kill. Looking forward to seeing the history.
Things might get a little confusing/fun with two people named Gideon running around...
Things might get a little confusing/fun with two people named Gideon running around...
They were running late, which was absurd. Alva Seldrun was never late, unless the house had been left vacant, she now knew. Her wake up call had come in the form of a low, terrible thunder which set the shields upon the wall shaking. Oddly enough, when she'd looked outside, the skies were clear save for a handful of dragons. "Labrys, come," she demanded, finding the red dragon slumbering by the door. The thing had the audacity to sit up in the middle of an empty room and intone "Labrys?" in a raspy facsimile of her voice before looking around for what ever that word could have meant. In the dragon's mind, half an hour late meant taking the day off. To his master, such an idea was heresy. She dangled the bolt of multicolored cloth around her neck in front of its expectant eyes, drawing its attention and leading the flamehuffer out of the lodge. Breakfast was a few scraps of bread eaten on their run to the academy. Labrys kept pace on the ground far easier than Alva did, though at first his only motivation to move was following his favorite color. The grounds were busy as usual. One large group of rare looking types - and a basic brown - had formed close by, but she had little desire to start mixing with trainers gifted in their class of dragon after showing up late. It was around that thought that she began to notice that a familiar heat had left her side. Alva's eyes lowered to the ground, just in time to see a red bolt streaking off towards the collection of trainers and dragons. Something had caught his interest.
The bread was irresistible, far fresher and dressed with herbs the dragon's palette had scarcely encountered before on the outright draconian diet he subsisted on. With little regard to the collection of dragons currently feasting on the bread, the small, warm creature weaved his way through the crowd, chattering with excitement that might have been mistaken for giggling as it sought out the remaining morsels of dirty bread upon the ground. Only after it had finished gorging itself did the obnoxiously colored dragon contemplate its surroundings. Labrys froze awkwardly in place, belching a tiny gout of fire as his eyes moved between all of the dragons nearby. In the distance, his black clad trainer was slowly approaching, frowning. That slow gait meant problems. He already had problems.
The bread was irresistible, far fresher and dressed with herbs the dragon's palette had scarcely encountered before on the outright draconian diet he subsisted on. With little regard to the collection of dragons currently feasting on the bread, the small, warm creature weaved his way through the crowd, chattering with excitement that might have been mistaken for giggling as it sought out the remaining morsels of dirty bread upon the ground. Only after it had finished gorging itself did the obnoxiously colored dragon contemplate its surroundings. Labrys froze awkwardly in place, belching a tiny gout of fire as his eyes moved between all of the dragons nearby. In the distance, his black clad trainer was slowly approaching, frowning. That slow gait meant problems. He already had problems.
Alright, there goes the IC intro.
The sailors of the Jubilance had fallen silent, those in the rigging enjoying the sea breeze and lazing in the calm after their final maneuvers. Now, the noise came only from the water and the consorting travelers aboard. The ship had been set on its course, and bar docking the only thing left to do was to drift into port. Their transit was to be simpler than others', the ships that trailed after would need to wait for a clearing at the dock. Even in the mist, the tiny rowboats of the port authority could be seen skittering along the pier, heading out to the nearest ships. In a few minutes, the Jubilance had been given its own liaison from the authority, a trio of soldiers from the Corps. They came clad in the light gray, angular mail of the Pomrian military, missing helmets and very clearly missing their sea legs. Two of them, a man and a woman, wore feathered blue berets over their dark hair, denoting their status as officers. Silently, the male officer strode off down the deck towards the bridge, holding fast to the railing the whole way.
The woman left behind took her time looking over the people on deck. A couple dozen, probably everyone on board and at least those intending to depart here. Her pale blue eyes, tinged almost lavender, sought out every detail, every hint of experience she could find on the people coming to her homeland, to leave their mark on it for better or worse. She smiled, done with gawking, and put her armored fist up in the air to call the attention of those still interested in the trio of newcomers. "On behalf of the Crown and my lord Hector II, I welcome you all to Pomria." She called, raising her voice in an attempt to speak out to the deck full of people. "Those of you who have come specifically to visit Bauchan forest are advised to register your presence at the office of the Containment Corps. Additionally, the Corps is always looking for hired hands. Private expeditions have occurred but only the government of Pomria is equipped to guarantee your safety within the woods. Regardless of where you find employment, I wish you all safe passage and good fortune in the country. That is all for your foreword. We will begin customs processing upon entering the docks, please make yourselves ready to move!" After that, the officer fell silent, leaving the deck to go back to its business as they passed the time until arrival. Safety was a relative word, and a shoddy promise. She'd just been stationed here, but the little talk she'd heard amongst the old hands was anything but positive. It was among her duties to change that.
The woman left behind took her time looking over the people on deck. A couple dozen, probably everyone on board and at least those intending to depart here. Her pale blue eyes, tinged almost lavender, sought out every detail, every hint of experience she could find on the people coming to her homeland, to leave their mark on it for better or worse. She smiled, done with gawking, and put her armored fist up in the air to call the attention of those still interested in the trio of newcomers. "On behalf of the Crown and my lord Hector II, I welcome you all to Pomria." She called, raising her voice in an attempt to speak out to the deck full of people. "Those of you who have come specifically to visit Bauchan forest are advised to register your presence at the office of the Containment Corps. Additionally, the Corps is always looking for hired hands. Private expeditions have occurred but only the government of Pomria is equipped to guarantee your safety within the woods. Regardless of where you find employment, I wish you all safe passage and good fortune in the country. That is all for your foreword. We will begin customs processing upon entering the docks, please make yourselves ready to move!" After that, the officer fell silent, leaving the deck to go back to its business as they passed the time until arrival. Safety was a relative word, and a shoddy promise. She'd just been stationed here, but the little talk she'd heard amongst the old hands was anything but positive. It was among her duties to change that.
Name: Alva Seldrun
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Alva is about 179cm (~5'11) tall, an impressive height that has always made it easy to stick out. Her build is spindly and lithe, which, when coupled with her stature, gives her presence a looming, ominous nature. Her skin is lightly toned, flushing easily but almost ghostly and nondescript with its lack of underlying hue. She is narrow faced, with pronounced cheekbones and a sharply pointed nose. Her lips seem stuck in something between a purse and a pout, completing the illusion of a mature, bookish face. Alva's eyes are a light amber, clear and vibrant enough in color to border on being called yellow. They are almost perpetually narrowed, either for a sour expression or Alva's poor vision, but are actually more round in shape. Alva favors simple, dark clothing. Most often, she is found sporting a long, black leather jacket. Its hem reaches down to her knees, and the garment is worn open over a simple white shirt. Her chosen leg wear is a set of dark gray trousers, double kneed and woven thick. They are the sort a dragon rider would favor, although admittedly she does shamefully little dragon riding. Complementing her durable choices in clothing are a set of thin soled leather boots, they reach most of the way up her shins and are worn tucked under her pants. Seemingly the only color on her person, she wears a red and white striped scarf either around her neck or tied around one arm at all times. It is a color favored by her dragon, and when they first met it was the only way she could get the rambunctious creature to follow her. Now, it is a symbol of their tenuous but blooming partnership.
Personality: Alva is a quiet, meticulous girl. She has an exacting eye for detail and is utterly demanding of quality from herself. For that reason, she tends to get very little done. Conversation is difficult for her because more often than not she loses interest quickly, but her knowledge of social niceties is excellent. She is quite stubborn, which is perhaps the only reason her partnership with her dragon has worked at all. The root of that stubbornness is an absolute confidence that when combined with her quietness can make her seem cold and aloof. Alva is aware of this, and enjoys cultivating the image of a quiet professional. Much closer to the truth is that she is merely an untalkative perfectionist.
Crush/Relationship: None
Dragon Name: Labrys
Dragon Type: Flame Huffer
Dragon Gender: Male
Appearance: Vermillion scaled and average sized for his breed, Labrys has a round face that seems to grin with a mixture of outward facing malice and genuine inner joy. His eyes are bright yellow, interrupted in their splendor only by tiny black slit pupils. His claws are nothing to speak of, short and dull even by the low standards of flame huffers. Additionally, his scales, while bright in color, are of little utility and that thinness shows in their sleek, glossy appearance.
Link to Dragon: http://howtotrainyourdragon.wikia.com/wiki/Flamehuffer
Other: Labrys is gifted in his ability to project fire accurately, a skill the dragon honed with its innate love for mischief. He is also quite fond of mimicking the voice of both his trainer and whoever is in the vicinity.
rawr i'm a dragon
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Alva is about 179cm (~5'11) tall, an impressive height that has always made it easy to stick out. Her build is spindly and lithe, which, when coupled with her stature, gives her presence a looming, ominous nature. Her skin is lightly toned, flushing easily but almost ghostly and nondescript with its lack of underlying hue. She is narrow faced, with pronounced cheekbones and a sharply pointed nose. Her lips seem stuck in something between a purse and a pout, completing the illusion of a mature, bookish face. Alva's eyes are a light amber, clear and vibrant enough in color to border on being called yellow. They are almost perpetually narrowed, either for a sour expression or Alva's poor vision, but are actually more round in shape. Alva favors simple, dark clothing. Most often, she is found sporting a long, black leather jacket. Its hem reaches down to her knees, and the garment is worn open over a simple white shirt. Her chosen leg wear is a set of dark gray trousers, double kneed and woven thick. They are the sort a dragon rider would favor, although admittedly she does shamefully little dragon riding. Complementing her durable choices in clothing are a set of thin soled leather boots, they reach most of the way up her shins and are worn tucked under her pants. Seemingly the only color on her person, she wears a red and white striped scarf either around her neck or tied around one arm at all times. It is a color favored by her dragon, and when they first met it was the only way she could get the rambunctious creature to follow her. Now, it is a symbol of their tenuous but blooming partnership.
Personality: Alva is a quiet, meticulous girl. She has an exacting eye for detail and is utterly demanding of quality from herself. For that reason, she tends to get very little done. Conversation is difficult for her because more often than not she loses interest quickly, but her knowledge of social niceties is excellent. She is quite stubborn, which is perhaps the only reason her partnership with her dragon has worked at all. The root of that stubbornness is an absolute confidence that when combined with her quietness can make her seem cold and aloof. Alva is aware of this, and enjoys cultivating the image of a quiet professional. Much closer to the truth is that she is merely an untalkative perfectionist.
Crush/Relationship: None
Dragon Name: Labrys
Dragon Type: Flame Huffer
Dragon Gender: Male
Appearance: Vermillion scaled and average sized for his breed, Labrys has a round face that seems to grin with a mixture of outward facing malice and genuine inner joy. His eyes are bright yellow, interrupted in their splendor only by tiny black slit pupils. His claws are nothing to speak of, short and dull even by the low standards of flame huffers. Additionally, his scales, while bright in color, are of little utility and that thinness shows in their sleek, glossy appearance.
Link to Dragon: http://howtotrainyourdragon.wikia.com/wiki/Flamehuffer
Other: Labrys is gifted in his ability to project fire accurately, a skill the dragon honed with its innate love for mischief. He is also quite fond of mimicking the voice of both his trainer and whoever is in the vicinity.
rawr i'm a dragon
Aaand my internet is back on.
Accepted, welcome aboard. I'm anticipating a few more players, but seeing as we've got people in the thread we can start introductions if everyone is up to it.
Accepted, welcome aboard. I'm anticipating a few more players, but seeing as we've got people in the thread we can start introductions if everyone is up to it.
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