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    1. Horrid 10 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Current Krism.
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10 yrs ago
Got a bottle of Brotherman Bill's chill pills.

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I'm cool with IRC or etherpad.

Oliver might not exemplify the might of muscle, but he'll try with the might of IRON, COLD IRON. MASTER OF MEN, ALL.
Captain Aldrich

@Empour
The Captain's behind tingled in a way that made him angry. An itch bit at him that not even the handle of his trusty shooter could scratch. He growled as he picked up the bottle once more and raised it to his mouth to remove the cork with his teeth. Twice-damned sea monsters and their thrice-damned wriggling boneless limbs. He'd rather face sirens and sea serpents again before touching another tentacled terror.

He stopped an inch short of biting down on the cork, hearing another voice in the forest nearby. Another beastie? His body didn't take chances, and moved quick to turn and point the pistol again. This time the barrel came to a rest on an elderly man, grey in the beard but spry in the step. He looked almost as fit as Aldrich himself. He was definitely shorter, as Aldrich angled the pistol towards the old man's gut. He was just waiting for a tentacle or two to come spilling from the man's chattering maw.

"Ya-what Woods?" He questioned as he stepped closer with an angry grimace on his face. The bottle fell as he went to pick up his blade and sheathe it once more. "I've been booted onto this lovely little rock by my former compatriots." The pistol's powder was wet, but the old man didn't seem to be a threat. Aldrich was wet, cold and bruised. He was in no shape to be starting wars with what could be friendly natives. He glared for a moment, before lowering the pistol and picking up his bottle once more.

"Have you any water, or food?" He said with a growl, toting the heavy bottle, "If I keep drinking this I'll be leaving bits of my stomach all over the woods."

He rubbed at the trigger-guard, biting at his lip softly. The pistol was harmless, but the old man needn't know that. "What about a camp?" He asked cautiously.
First new friend, and I've got a pistol halfway up my backside.

The ball is in my court.
We have such SIGHTS TO SHOW YOU.
Coastal Vigil

The appearance of a ship at The Continent's shore had drawn the attention of more than a few of the Vigils. They stood atop a rocky outcrop further downwind of the Salt Dagger's temporary moorings, watching silently and waiting. Waiting for a departure.

As one of the more extravagantly-dressed occupants was thrown from the ship, and it began to sail away, the congregation dispersed with the knowledge that only one had disembarked onto the sands. And with that one, stayed one of the Vigils.

From its twisted shell, it stared on as the pirate threw on his gear and began a sullen march inland, toward the forested areas. A mollusk scuttled from cavity to cavity on the shell and with a shake of its blue, stretched limbs, the Vigil raised a hand to the bottom of its shell. The other went to the large opening atop its shell-head.

It straightened up, raised its head and...

Captain Aldrich

A horn sounded in the distance as his ship sailed away without him. The Ex-Captain sucked the dregs of moonshine from his lip and corked the bottle again, rumbling deep in his throat as he felt the burn of the liquor as it went down once more. Doing his best to ignore the noise and sounds of merriment from the now-distant ship, and that peculiar horn. The bottle in his hand was still heavy, long enough to nearly touch the ground from his dangling grip, and the brew was strong. He would need to preserve it until he found a running water source. This wasn't his first marooning, which helped his nerves. His first mutiny, sure. Always a first time for everything, as his mentor always yammered at him. Right before he slapped a sword in his hand and told him to dance the Daisy Darling.

Imperial customs, in hindsight, were worrying.

Thankfully the undergrowth and vegetation past the treeline wasn't the most difficult of terrain. He'd seen worse untraveled wilds but this place seemed to have had some traffic, and rather recently. He wasn't the best of trackers, but broken branches and shifted grass didn't take a pack of hounds to understand. Boots sloshing and breeches beginning to chafe, he trudged slowly through nature and stopped routinely to be unimpressed at his current state of affairs. He would have started to feel sorry for himself had he been a man for lamentation.

And had a growl not erupted from a bushel behind him.

His mind had not fully registered a threat as his hand flicked for his blade quicker than a rat through a pantry. The draw was silent, and silver flashed in the light of the moon as Aldrich struggled to pierce the dark and see what had made the noise. He should have brought the torch from the shore. Rather, he SHOULD have gutted Berhtr the moment he started giving him sideways looks in the galley, then he'd never be in the ass-end of nowhere with his blade drawn to face a...

Fox.

Aldrich lowered his blade with a huff, kicking a boot out at the mange-ridden mutt. "Shoo, little blighter." It recoiled, but didn't retreat. Merely staring him down as he sheathed his blade and stared back in kind. He was in unfamiliar territory. He inquired to the fox, furiously fiddling with the buckle of his belt. "Tread on your turf, have I? Well, we can't have that."

It was a few moments before he was marking territory of his own, right there in front of the creature. His anger sometimes got the better of him, his mentor always told him. Right now he was more concerned with the look of fear he was garnering from the beastie in the bushel. "What, mutt? Scared of what you can't scare off?" He said with a growing chuckle before the fox's retreat made him tilt his head. The feeling of sea-spray on the nape of his neck calmed him for a moment, before he realized where he was. And felt an unfamiliar chill on his rear.

The Vigil had arrived.

In a gesture that seemed more at home in a drinkhouse or rum den, the Vigil reared back and gave Aldrich a quick lash with its quivering tentacle. The cold sting was slightly familiar, but unwelcome, and in the next instant a flash of silver had severed the writhing limb. Aldrich wheeled around, one hand grabbing for his falling breeches with bottle in hand as the other took up an offensive stance with his blade. The Vigil swayed for a moment, before turning tail and barrelling away. The Captain dropped his blade and fumbled for his pistol as he redid his belt, dropping it too as he secured his pants. With a quick dip, he picked it up again before squeezing the trigger with the shell-headed creature in his sights. A click, a fizzle and then nothing as the Vigil bounded over a rock and disappeared.

Aldrich looked to his pistol with a grimace, and rubbed at his right arsecheek. The skin crawled as he hissed in pain and annoyance. The powder was wet and now his behind was both soaked and slimy.

"The lads would die if they saw me now." He grumbled.
@Empour

That sounds like a fine idea! Just lemme get this bastard marked and we can get to the socialising and copious amounts of drinking.
Captain Aldrich

"Sorry Cap'n!" Shouted a voice from the ironclad ship lingering just off the shallows of the Continent. "The lads all agree! This is where we leave you! We just can't abide a trip to this place, we've got families! Children!" Derisive laughter boomed from the deck as Aldrich's first mate, Berhtr, took the helm and waved with a smile on his face. Aldrich sneered as he pulled his coat back into order, sopping wet over his shoulders. The dirtied Imperial medallions shone on the lapel in the light of the torch. Berhtr walked to the edge of the deck and leaned over, "You know how I am with my 'family'!" From his hip, he pulled a long, slender blade that shone with white and gold in the low light of the ship's fires.

Aldrich grit his teeth and ran a hand over the smooth of his head. "At least arm me, you coward! If you challenged me like a man, we'd be swabbing the red off the deck by now!" The crew laughed again, Berhtr nodding along with the challenge from his former captain. "Aye, you would, Cap'n. You've got a foot on me, and you're schooled with this here scrapper." He raised the sheathed rapier and leaned over the railing to throw it in the shallows, "But you're not in the Guard anymore! These ain't Imperial waters! Honor got washed off the keel the minute we left for this godforsaken place."

Aldrich picked his blade from the water, and felt the sea spray his face as a flintlock pistol and a heavy bottle buried themselves in the shallows as well. He picked them up and holstered the weapons, toting the bottle with his free hand. "I've even left you a bottle of the Dagger's brew for good will!" The crew exploded into laughter again as they pulled anchor and began to slowly drift away.

And now here he was, he thought as he turned back to the shore of the Continent. Drenched to the bone, covered in salt and sand and in possession of some VERY strong moonshine. He gave a frustrated bellow as he moved toward the treeline, unconcerned with the island itself as he uncorked the Dagger brew and took a healthy swig. It burned as it went down, but he could take it.

He was one of the Empire's finest after all. Well, once.
Interested.


Captain Aldrich 'Ashwyrm' Osvulk


Mutiny on the high seas! The famed Captain Ashwyrm's faithful crew turn their coats and then turn the ironclad ship, The Salt Dagger, from their dread-captain's prosperous rule! Tales tell of the crew leaving him for dead on the ghastly shores of the ever-mysterious Continent with naught but his rapier, a flintlock pistol loaded with a single round, and a bottle of swill born from the belly of the Dagger herself. What wonders does the Continent hold for our intrepid former Captain? Riches? Romance? Adventure? Or does The Continent hold stranger ends for him?
Nerd is pretty universal, but you could just go with the feminine suffix '-ette'. Nerdette works well.
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