Location: The Keelhauled Pony, Twelve Seas Port, Haven
She almost cries out, in fact she opens her mouth to do just that, but then she's spun around into that embrace and the smiling stranger is making a shushing motion rather than mistakenly kissing her, as it seemed so likely was about to happen. Wary but still curious, and apparently determined to remain inconspicuous as well, judging by the adamant way she holds her hood in place, she lefts one hand to the side of the stranger's neck, playing her part in the embrace.
The two armed men move through the pub, looking behind barrels and under tables, but when they try to search behind the bar, there's an audible click that stops everyone in their tracks. One of the barmaids holds a pistol in one hand, trained on the first pursuer. "Leave," she says firmly. And while it seems like the men might argue, a second click from a second pistol - this one in the hands of the second barmaid, ends the potential stand-off, and the two men head for the doors, cursing under their breath the entire way. Though they continue to look around a bit before leaving, their eyes skim right over the pair of lovers locked into an embrace, and then they're gone. (KEY of the Imposter, 1XP)
It takes but a moment for the volume in the pub to ratchet back up to previous levels, perhaps these sorts of interruptions are a regular enough occurrence that they don't hold the collective attention for very long. Whatever the reason, once things are more or less back to normal, the redhead pulls away from her pseudo-assailant. "Well, now you owe me a drink, I think," she decides. "And an explanation of all that would be rather grand as well." She gestures expansively, indicating the previous incident.
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Jerkchicken said
Some of the cells need to be enlarged, text is getting cut off
If you click on any cell, you should be able to read it in full, in the function bar above.
I've always wanted to do a Changeling story, but I've shied away from the heavy mechanics of White Wolf storytelling.
Location: Twelve Seas Port, Haven
It was early enough in the evening that the sun still hovered over the horizon, but late enough that the streets and alleyways were glutted with pedestrians - and presumably those who preyed on them. Hawkers on either side of the wide, cobbled road called out their prices and wares, while children with wide eyes and grubby hands begged for coins from all and sundry. Monkeys skittered over awnings and under market tables, nimble fingers thieving capably, when they could get away with it. All in all, it was shaping up to be an unremarkable eve in an unremarkable port on Haven, a planet most remarkable for maintaining it's status as a Free World within the Imperial boundaries. Granted, the Empire didn't go out of its way to enforce their stance that all planets within their purview were ruled under Imperial law, which was just as well for them, since landing their airships on Haven to kick up a fuss about unpaid taxes or harbored fugitives would likely see them all tossed off the edge of the world and into the Lower Depths.
This particular evening, while unremarkable to most, is quite significant to one particular person winding her way through the street. With a crimson cloak drawn up tight about her shoulders and the hood draped low enough to obscure her eyes, she picks her way through the crowd with a careful determination, pressing coins into the hands thrust toward her for alms as she goes. Sidestepping a puddle of something odious enough to obviously not be simple water, she nearly misses a steam carriage bearing down on her, and it's only by a stroke of good fortune that her story doesn't come to an end right then and there. A stranger's hand reaches out and pulls her out of harm's way, though her boot splashes directly into the puddle of ill-source, and her hood comes away from her head long enough to reveal a wealth of glossy red tresses and eyes the color of faceted emeralds. She quickly tugs the hood back into place, murmuring her thanks to her unnamed rescuer, who disappears back into the crowd with nary a word or second glance.
Continuing on her way, she shakes her wet boot with a dismayed sigh, but doesn't stop - and with a glance down at a piece of much-folded paper in her hand, she begins scanning the addresses of the buildings lining the street, apparently nearing her destination. A brothel is passed over with a distasteful sort of grimace, and a ramshackle chapel in need of a new roof and replacement for the crumbling chimney is given a similar look. The sound of off-key singing and the sort of carousing one might expect at this time of evening draws her attention, and she crosses the street toward it, being careful this time to look both ways for anything with wheels that might see her flattened. Standing in front of the Keelhauled Pony Pub, she shows her first hesitation. The heavy wooden door, fitted with a brass approximation of the establishment's name, swings open, and a bearded giant lumbers unsteadily out of the pub, unmindful of the petite, cloaked redhead standing between him and the street. He stops, swaying in place, and in the moment before he falls forward like a toppled oak tree, the young woman makes her decision, and darts around him to enter the building before the door swings shut.
Standing inside, there is a heavy thud from the other side of the door, and she winces a bit, perhaps imagining the monstrous headache the unconscious giant will have come morning. No one at the bar seems to notice or care about the plight of their former drinking buddy. Still clutching the paper in her hand, she lowers her hood just enough to get a good look around the place. Crowded with patrons, the servers wend their way expertly among the tables, while a pair of twin barmaids serve those seated at the long wooden bar that stretches along the western edge of the room. Tables fill the rest of the area, nearly all of them occupied, some more than others, and conversations with topics that could make a mother faint dead away rise and lower in volume like thunder in a storm. The door opens to admit more customers, and she moves deeper inside to avoid being trampled, looking quite out of place.
It was early enough in the evening that the sun still hovered over the horizon, but late enough that the streets and alleyways were glutted with pedestrians - and presumably those who preyed on them. Hawkers on either side of the wide, cobbled road called out their prices and wares, while children with wide eyes and grubby hands begged for coins from all and sundry. Monkeys skittered over awnings and under market tables, nimble fingers thieving capably, when they could get away with it. All in all, it was shaping up to be an unremarkable eve in an unremarkable port on Haven, a planet most remarkable for maintaining it's status as a Free World within the Imperial boundaries. Granted, the Empire didn't go out of its way to enforce their stance that all planets within their purview were ruled under Imperial law, which was just as well for them, since landing their airships on Haven to kick up a fuss about unpaid taxes or harbored fugitives would likely see them all tossed off the edge of the world and into the Lower Depths.
This particular evening, while unremarkable to most, is quite significant to one particular person winding her way through the street. With a crimson cloak drawn up tight about her shoulders and the hood draped low enough to obscure her eyes, she picks her way through the crowd with a careful determination, pressing coins into the hands thrust toward her for alms as she goes. Sidestepping a puddle of something odious enough to obviously not be simple water, she nearly misses a steam carriage bearing down on her, and it's only by a stroke of good fortune that her story doesn't come to an end right then and there. A stranger's hand reaches out and pulls her out of harm's way, though her boot splashes directly into the puddle of ill-source, and her hood comes away from her head long enough to reveal a wealth of glossy red tresses and eyes the color of faceted emeralds. She quickly tugs the hood back into place, murmuring her thanks to her unnamed rescuer, who disappears back into the crowd with nary a word or second glance.
Continuing on her way, she shakes her wet boot with a dismayed sigh, but doesn't stop - and with a glance down at a piece of much-folded paper in her hand, she begins scanning the addresses of the buildings lining the street, apparently nearing her destination. A brothel is passed over with a distasteful sort of grimace, and a ramshackle chapel in need of a new roof and replacement for the crumbling chimney is given a similar look. The sound of off-key singing and the sort of carousing one might expect at this time of evening draws her attention, and she crosses the street toward it, being careful this time to look both ways for anything with wheels that might see her flattened. Standing in front of the Keelhauled Pony Pub, she shows her first hesitation. The heavy wooden door, fitted with a brass approximation of the establishment's name, swings open, and a bearded giant lumbers unsteadily out of the pub, unmindful of the petite, cloaked redhead standing between him and the street. He stops, swaying in place, and in the moment before he falls forward like a toppled oak tree, the young woman makes her decision, and darts around him to enter the building before the door swings shut.
Standing inside, there is a heavy thud from the other side of the door, and she winces a bit, perhaps imagining the monstrous headache the unconscious giant will have come morning. No one at the bar seems to notice or care about the plight of their former drinking buddy. Still clutching the paper in her hand, she lowers her hood just enough to get a good look around the place. Crowded with patrons, the servers wend their way expertly among the tables, while a pair of twin barmaids serve those seated at the long wooden bar that stretches along the western edge of the room. Tables fill the rest of the area, nearly all of them occupied, some more than others, and conversations with topics that could make a mother faint dead away rise and lower in volume like thunder in a storm. The door opens to admit more customers, and she moves deeper inside to avoid being trampled, looking quite out of place.
Lady Katarina Steele lives an idyllic life on Ilysium, the capitol world of the Empire, home to the greatest noble houses of the Imperial coalition. Ilysium is rich and decadent, attended to by servants and slaves, as well as the elite bodyguards of the nobility.
All of that changes quite suddenly, when Lord Severus Steele, Katarina's father, is bested in a duel to the death with Lord Oberon Flint. Proving himself to be a coward, he agreed to Lord Flint's conditions for quarter: in exchange for Severus' life, Oberon would take Lady Madeline Steele - Katarina's mother.
And so it came to pass, and it was only some time after Lord Oberon departed with the Lady Madeline that it was discovered that he was no lord at all, but the pirate king Uriah Flint in disguise! Horrified that her mother had been taken captive by none other than a bloodthirsty, murderous sky-dog, Katarina fled her home world in search of her mother. She traveled to Haven, the most prominent planet of the Free World, in search of a sky ship crew that would be willing to fly against Uriah Flint himself.
Haven is where she met you, the captain of a capable sky ship, and a sky pirate in your own rights. Will you take on her quest, searching the sky sea and the planets beyond the Empire in search of Katarina's mother? That is up to you to decide.
@ Guardj: Thank you, I hope you're right and the game turns out to be everything I expect it to be. Enjoy your current endeavors and perhaps one day we'll play - I do love compliments. *preens*
Lady Katarina Steele lives an idyllic life on Ilysium, the capitol world of the Empire, home to the greatest noble houses of the Imperial coalition. Ilysium is rich and decadent, attended to by servants and slaves, as well as the elite bodyguards of the nobility.
All of that changes quite suddenly, when Lord Severus Steele, Katarina's father, is bested in a duel to the death with Lord Oberon Flint. Proving himself to be a coward, he agreed to Lord Flint's conditions for quarter: in exchange for Severus' life, Oberon would take Lady Madeline Steele - Katarina's mother.
And so it came to pass, and it was only some time after Lord Oberon departed with the Lady Madeline that it was discovered that he was no lord at all, but the pirate king Uriah Flint in disguise! Horrified that her mother had been taken captive by none other than a bloodthirsty, murderous sky-dog, Katarina fled her home world in search of her mother. She traveled to Haven, the most prominent planet of the Free World, in search of a sky ship crew that would be willing to fly against Uriah Flint himself.
Haven is where she met you, the captain of a capable sky ship, and a sky pirate in your own rights. Will you take on her quest, searching the sky sea and the planets beyond the Empire in search of Katarina's mother? That is up to you to decide.
Looking for a sky pirate! Male, naturally. Pose length is less of an issue than pose quality. Ten paragraphs of typos and drivel are worth less than three or four paragraphs of high-quality prose with intent and development.
I am only looking to do this story once, so I'd like it done well. Please do not throw your hat in if you are already previously engaged in multiple RP threads - while I respect anyone's talent at multi-tasking, my time is worth more to me than second, third, fourth, and fifteenth fiddle in your list of obligations.
I've already drawn up the character sheets for this adventure, you can take a look here: Character Sheets & Dice Mechanics
This RP involves a form of dice rolling, but not a particular system or anything that would be familiar to a tabletop gamer. Just a head's up, in case anyone is morally or intellectually opposed to dice.
Legion said
Well, well, didn't think this would fly, but there seems to be two brave souls here. Be warned though, there is no throwing of fireballs or stopping of time in this one.
No worries, I think we'll live without fireballs. How many people are you looking for, for this?
Very television, much interest.
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