yeah, just head over to the thread in the link I posted and fill out the application!
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Oh yeah. It's soup time again.
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Soup Time. A Year Later.
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Sometimes... it is
Bio
Normally unavailable between 3pm-9pm, always welcoming RP ideas, large groups, small groups, 1x1s, you name it!
Most Recent Posts
AAAAAAAAAAA
This was a lot more people than I was expecting!
Fortunately, the Safe house should be big enough for all of you!
roleplayerguild.com/topics/175819-met…
This was a lot more people than I was expecting!
Fortunately, the Safe house should be big enough for all of you!
roleplayerguild.com/topics/175819-met…
META WILL BE ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
"Back in world war 2, the US government began working on a super soldier program. They called it Project Pantheon. Using new age technology in hopes of getting the edge on Nazi Germany, the US attempted to bind science and magic into people to create a new breed of human. Unfortunately, it did not work out. Only a small handful of the test subjects walked away with any noticeable changes. Many of the failed test subjects died, but a surprising number continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened.
Unbeknownst to the government, the dropouts, at we called them, would pass these Powered genes onto their children, and then onto you. Have you seen the news? Metas, they're calling them. Powered people running around in suits and costumes like they're living in a comic book."
You sit in a bland room. Taken from your life and placed in this box where your powers are useless. All that you can see is a hanging light, a steel desk, and a government goon sitting across from you.
Your grandparents had told you a story or two about something like this. How the military tried making superheros to fight in the war. People like the ones in the comics. You didn't think any of it was real. Old people told tall tales all the time, this was probably no different.
And then you discovered your powers. You used them. Maybe to help people, maybe to help yourself, but someone was watching, and now your here. Being held against your will god knows where, being asked to join a crime fighting team.
You can't tell if this is the greatest day of your life or the worst.
But, you can't deny that Metas are a thing. You yourself are one. You have seen the news, you've heard the stories. One or two other people in your town are Metas just like you. You don't even know what your goal would be even if you did say yes. You ask.
"We need a response team. We cant send the 5-0 to cuff a man who can shoot fire out of his fingertips. We need special people for special tasks. And we think you're one of them."
Welcome to Meta! The world you're about the jump in to was much like our own for a very long time. Up until world war 2, it was nearly identical. When The US government started testing on superpowers, they hoped for the best, but expected the worst. Those heroes that did get powers and make it out alive served their country and then some. Rumors spread about people with fantastic abilities inspired by fiction. Those real world heroes, watered down and trickling through the ears of the public became comics and legends of their own. The government refused to acknowledge the fact that they had done human testing of any sort, much less genetic modification.
Over the past ten years, Powered people, Metahumans, have been popping up all over the globe. Its unsure of what it causing the meta-gene inside of people to break out and activate, but scientists have theorized that intense stress and emotion are the leading causes to certain people gaining their powers. typically, this comes out in teens and young adults, but fully grown men and women have also experienced this phenomenon as well.
Now, your country is asking you to take up a suit and defend its people from impossible threats.
Rules:
-Respect other players and their characters.
-Do not take control of another player's character. No power/Meta gaming.
-Keep things reasonable. Both in terms of silliness and mature themes. This is a scary world that is still coming to terms with the pfact that powered people exist, nobody knows how to handle them, but this isn't Dial M. A little edge can be fun; we're not BvS.
-That being said, if things are starting to get... intense, please move it to PMs. This RP isn't the place to get frisky.
-When making your character, you don't have to science up your powers if you don't want to! I specifically added the fantasy tag so you could have any kind of powers you want without having to make of some sort of realistic reason as to why they happen. The Meta-Gene works in mysterious ways.
-If you have any problems or questions, don't be afraid to ask me or any appointed Co-GMs!
-And of course, have fun!
Name:
Alias:
Appearance (general and costumed):
Age:
Powers:
Skills:
Previous occupation:
Backstory:
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
additional information:
Accepted Character list:
"Back in world war 2, the US government began working on a super soldier program. They called it Project Pantheon. Using new age technology in hopes of getting the edge on Nazi Germany, the US attempted to bind science and magic into people to create a new breed of human. Unfortunately, it did not work out. Only a small handful of the test subjects walked away with any noticeable changes. Many of the failed test subjects died, but a surprising number continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened.
Unbeknownst to the government, the dropouts, at we called them, would pass these Powered genes onto their children, and then onto you. Have you seen the news? Metas, they're calling them. Powered people running around in suits and costumes like they're living in a comic book."
You sit in a bland room. Taken from your life and placed in this box where your powers are useless. All that you can see is a hanging light, a steel desk, and a government goon sitting across from you.
Your grandparents had told you a story or two about something like this. How the military tried making superheros to fight in the war. People like the ones in the comics. You didn't think any of it was real. Old people told tall tales all the time, this was probably no different.
And then you discovered your powers. You used them. Maybe to help people, maybe to help yourself, but someone was watching, and now your here. Being held against your will god knows where, being asked to join a crime fighting team.
You can't tell if this is the greatest day of your life or the worst.
But, you can't deny that Metas are a thing. You yourself are one. You have seen the news, you've heard the stories. One or two other people in your town are Metas just like you. You don't even know what your goal would be even if you did say yes. You ask.
"We need a response team. We cant send the 5-0 to cuff a man who can shoot fire out of his fingertips. We need special people for special tasks. And we think you're one of them."
Welcome to Meta! The world you're about the jump in to was much like our own for a very long time. Up until world war 2, it was nearly identical. When The US government started testing on superpowers, they hoped for the best, but expected the worst. Those heroes that did get powers and make it out alive served their country and then some. Rumors spread about people with fantastic abilities inspired by fiction. Those real world heroes, watered down and trickling through the ears of the public became comics and legends of their own. The government refused to acknowledge the fact that they had done human testing of any sort, much less genetic modification.
Over the past ten years, Powered people, Metahumans, have been popping up all over the globe. Its unsure of what it causing the meta-gene inside of people to break out and activate, but scientists have theorized that intense stress and emotion are the leading causes to certain people gaining their powers. typically, this comes out in teens and young adults, but fully grown men and women have also experienced this phenomenon as well.
Now, your country is asking you to take up a suit and defend its people from impossible threats.
Rules:
-Respect other players and their characters.
-Do not take control of another player's character. No power/Meta gaming.
-Keep things reasonable. Both in terms of silliness and mature themes. This is a scary world that is still coming to terms with the pfact that powered people exist, nobody knows how to handle them, but this isn't Dial M. A little edge can be fun; we're not BvS.
-That being said, if things are starting to get... intense, please move it to PMs. This RP isn't the place to get frisky.
-When making your character, you don't have to science up your powers if you don't want to! I specifically added the fantasy tag so you could have any kind of powers you want without having to make of some sort of realistic reason as to why they happen. The Meta-Gene works in mysterious ways.
-If you have any problems or questions, don't be afraid to ask me or any appointed Co-GMs!
-And of course, have fun!
Name:
Alias:
Appearance (general and costumed):
Age:
Powers:
Skills:
Previous occupation:
Backstory:
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
additional information:
Accepted Character list:
wow! I'm glad to see interest! I'll start working on an IC, and then you all can fight to the death for slots in the RP!
bump.
The thread is up!
"Back in world war 2, the US government began working on a super soldier program. They called it Project Pantheon. Using new age technology in hopes of getting the edge on Nazi Germany, the US attempted to bind science and magic into people to create a new breed of human. Unfortunately, it did not work out. Only a small handful of the test subjects walked away with any noticeable changes. Many of the failed test subjects died, but a surprising number continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened.
Unbeknownst to the government, the dropouts, at we called them, would pass these Powered genes onto their children, and then onto you. Have you seen the news? Metas, they're calling them. Powered people running around in suits and costumes like they're living in a comic book."
You sit in a bland room. Taken from your life and placed in this box where your powers are useless. All that you can see is a hanging light, a steel desk, and a government goon sitting across from you.
Your grandparents had told you a story or two about something like this. How the military tried making superheros to fight in the war. People like the ones in the comics. You didn't think any of it was real. Old people told tall tales all the time, this was probably no different.
And then you discovered your powers. You used them. Maybe to help people, maybe to help yourself, but someone was watching, and now your here. Being held against your will god knows where, being asked to join a crime fighting team.
You can't tell if this is the greatest day of your life or the worst.
But, you can't deny that Metas are a thing. You have seen the news, you've heard the stories. One or two other people in your town are Metas just like you. You don't even know what your goal would be even if you did say yes. You ask.
"We need a response team. We cant send the 5-0 to cuff a man who can shoot fire out of his fingertips. We need special people for special tasks. And we think you're one of them."
Will you join the second generation of Project Pantheon?
"Back in world war 2, the US government began working on a super soldier program. They called it Project Pantheon. Using new age technology in hopes of getting the edge on Nazi Germany, the US attempted to bind science and magic into people to create a new breed of human. Unfortunately, it did not work out. Only a small handful of the test subjects walked away with any noticeable changes. Many of the failed test subjects died, but a surprising number continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened.
Unbeknownst to the government, the dropouts, at we called them, would pass these Powered genes onto their children, and then onto you. Have you seen the news? Metas, they're calling them. Powered people running around in suits and costumes like they're living in a comic book."
You sit in a bland room. Taken from your life and placed in this box where your powers are useless. All that you can see is a hanging light, a steel desk, and a government goon sitting across from you.
Your grandparents had told you a story or two about something like this. How the military tried making superheros to fight in the war. People like the ones in the comics. You didn't think any of it was real. Old people told tall tales all the time, this was probably no different.
And then you discovered your powers. You used them. Maybe to help people, maybe to help yourself, but someone was watching, and now your here. Being held against your will god knows where, being asked to join a crime fighting team.
You can't tell if this is the greatest day of your life or the worst.
But, you can't deny that Metas are a thing. You have seen the news, you've heard the stories. One or two other people in your town are Metas just like you. You don't even know what your goal would be even if you did say yes. You ask.
"We need a response team. We cant send the 5-0 to cuff a man who can shoot fire out of his fingertips. We need special people for special tasks. And we think you're one of them."
Will you join the second generation of Project Pantheon?
His mouth opened only slightly. Rylad had his eyes focused on the woman, staring intently at her to see what she thought of the figures. She took one, examined it, and let a tear fall. He moved barely an inch closer. Something about them got to her. It was in the way she talked about the Maidens, with such quiet reverence. His mouth went fully agape at her proclaiming his skill and work. He let out a shudder of a breath. Nobody had complimented his carvings to such a level before.
Then she offered to buy them. Not talk to that greasy man about buying them, but taking them for herself. "It's all yours if you want it." He said back to her, eager to sell it off to her. He cherished his own work, as an artist should, but this was a sign to him that he had done something right.
From her pocket she produced a small bag, and in it lay pearls. Dazzling and stark, the little pearls seemed to be made with perfection in mind. It was all she had, she said. He would have preferred money, but a simple barter would work just as well. He lifted a hand and took only a few of the pearls she offered him. No more than three or four pearls were taken from her hand and left to sit in his palm. It would be rude of him to take it all, and the size and beauty would be sure to hold some worth of their own.
But...
She said they were lucky. Ryland knew better than to question the cosmic forces. If they were lucky, he would believe them to be so. His eyes left her, scanning the boat again for prying eyes. Nobody paid them much attention, but Ryland would have to hold the pearls close. He was meant to bring the ship, his captain, money, not pawn off his works for personal gain. The pearls were slipped into a pocket and Ryland pushed his hands forward, still looking around the ship.
"The carving is yours. I hope you enjoy it, and if you want anything made, just ask, ok?"
Then she offered to buy them. Not talk to that greasy man about buying them, but taking them for herself. "It's all yours if you want it." He said back to her, eager to sell it off to her. He cherished his own work, as an artist should, but this was a sign to him that he had done something right.
From her pocket she produced a small bag, and in it lay pearls. Dazzling and stark, the little pearls seemed to be made with perfection in mind. It was all she had, she said. He would have preferred money, but a simple barter would work just as well. He lifted a hand and took only a few of the pearls she offered him. No more than three or four pearls were taken from her hand and left to sit in his palm. It would be rude of him to take it all, and the size and beauty would be sure to hold some worth of their own.
But...
She said they were lucky. Ryland knew better than to question the cosmic forces. If they were lucky, he would believe them to be so. His eyes left her, scanning the boat again for prying eyes. Nobody paid them much attention, but Ryland would have to hold the pearls close. He was meant to bring the ship, his captain, money, not pawn off his works for personal gain. The pearls were slipped into a pocket and Ryland pushed his hands forward, still looking around the ship.
"The carving is yours. I hope you enjoy it, and if you want anything made, just ask, ok?"
Fabruary 26th, 3:36 PM EST
Watchwoter, Earth's Atmosphere
Two figures stood in the Watchtower, a space station put together to serve as the base of operations for the Justice League. That was what they called themselves. Rather, that's what Preston liked to call them, no matter what they thought of the name.
"So, where next?"
In the years that had passed, with the trials faces and the fires doused, Preston had become almost an entirely new man. What was once a careful, yet mild mannered astronomer was now a man who has had his curiosity sated, and his quest for the next thing was tempered by his desire to create peace. Some would call him rather boring, but the more Preston dove into his work as a Green Lantern, the more he discarded the man underneath the mask.
"Preston, I think we've done enough peace-keeping missions on earth. You hardly treat other planets like this." The one exception was Sotra, but Catalea would consider her planet a home to Preston as well. She had yet to get acquainted with Earth like he had with Sotra. Her mask clicked to disengage, and the hero of the Vespasian people looked upon the planet below them with naked eyes.
"Besides. I've seen Paris, Kyoto, Washington, Central City, Rio, Switzerland, many in between and far beyond. Where else will we go?" Between their missions, taking care of various criminals that they had come into contact with in their travels, he really did show her many great places around the earth. Despite this, Preston didn't feel like it was enough. Like he was missing something that she had to see to witness another facet of beauty on the planet he called home.
Preston racked his brain trying to think of a new location. Themiscyra was not only a place already traveled to, but off limits. Period. Well, at least to him. Catalea, being an honorable warrior, was allowed in as she pleased. Not even his title of Green Lantern and super powered superstar of the planet would make the warrior women budge. Genovia was going under some internal redevelopment, not to mention it being another isolationist country.
A smile worked it's way to his features. Without saying anything, Preston spun on his heels and began to walk away from his wife.
"Hey!" She let out after having noticed him walking away.
Still he said nothing. He was rather quiet as she followed him with annoyance.
Preston's little walk led them to a large computer in the Watchtower. Technically the computer belonged to Zoey, but she wasn't around. Not that she'd care anyways. With several taps on the keyboard of the monster of a computer, he issued a broadcast to a certain under water city.
"Hey, Orin? You there?" Preston spoke up, his wife quirking an eye brow.
She rememebred Orin, king of the seas. He was there at the wedding. Charming man, noble.
"It's Preston. I was wondering if me and Cat would do a little tour of Poseidonis. One of the last corners of the world I have left to show her." Had it not been for the fact that they were in a giant metal box, very, very far away from the surface, Preston would have made the call on his own communicator. However, the advanced strength of the watchwoter's computers made shooting a signal all the way into the ocean much easier than any other option.
February 28th , 3:36 PM EST
Poseidonis University, Lycus Dorm
It was back to the books. For real, this time. No more powers, no more gadgets, no more patrols. It was school. Normalcy. To be quite honest, Virgil was having a blast. This was something he never had in Dakota. If it wasn't the gangs, it was his powers, and if it wasn't his powers, it was something else. Now it was just him.
But that wasn't a bad thing.
He had school, he even had friends. He was doing well. While his grades were rather normal during his first leg of time there at the university, when he put away his distractions and double life, he had time to focus on his academics and smash them out of the water. He wasn't on the same level as Richie, but Virgil Hawkins was a damn smart kid.
He sat by the doorway of the Lycus dorm, his back against the building and a notebook in his hands. Electrical engineering and physics were his zone, and he was going to make sure that all of his work from now on was better than anything that came before it. After all, he had to make up for lost time.
February 28th, 12:02 PM
Harper Heights, San Francisco
The city was on its way to being hers
Who knew that all you had to do to strongarm city officials was abduct them in your alien powersuit that you found in El Paso so many years ago? Well, Patty had an idea about that.
Her generals, her favored allies, started out as a group of idiots who were also gifted great power. They just needed to be put in line, and to have their perspectives changed a little. The Five Fighters, a surprisingly coordinate group of hustlers with powers given to them by some supernatural means, were gifted not only in abilities, but weaponry.
She took the lead, of course. Apex, the most powerful villain on the west coast, worked hard to intimidate and scare anyone and everyone with political power. The Five Fighters ushered in a wave of crime with skill and grace. Patricia Palomo, a newcomer to the scene, kept her head low. She had the money, she was getting the influence, but her pride was getting the better of her.
As fun as it was to push congressmen around, she wanted that podium. She wanted the city in her hands directly. Night after night she mulled over her plans for the future. Her son, first and foremost, was growing up. She didn't want him in this business. Not this life. He would find his path, and she would set the light on it so he could walk it unimpeded.
She sat in her office. Shotaro stood by the door, the other four were posted around the city, making sure their growing empire was running like a train.
A pen twirled between her skilled fingers. One one hand, Patty could be the new face of San Francisco. She could use the will of her mafia to get whatever she wanted done, and when things didn't work out, Apex could take a visit. However, people would connect the dots at some point. By then, would it really matter? The city in her hands, metahumans, hustlers, and workers at her disposal, proxy after proxy. What could go wrong?
Ding dong!
For now, the question would have to remain unanswered. Patty removed herself from her chair. Shotaro, ever the loyal guardian and leader of his team, stiffened his shoulders and watched her leave the office. A quick word to him made him relax and take his departure as well. However, he didn't leave the house. Tobias was Shotaro's other priority, and sometimes the bosses had the strangest requests. Like "straight chillin".
Patty returned to the living room of her house to see her son and her second in command butting heads over something trivial. She didn't care. When you had as much money and power as she did, why would you care about anything? It was good to relax a little. Be a little normal.
And normal meant that it was pizza night.
Watchwoter, Earth's Atmosphere
Two figures stood in the Watchtower, a space station put together to serve as the base of operations for the Justice League. That was what they called themselves. Rather, that's what Preston liked to call them, no matter what they thought of the name.
"So, where next?"
In the years that had passed, with the trials faces and the fires doused, Preston had become almost an entirely new man. What was once a careful, yet mild mannered astronomer was now a man who has had his curiosity sated, and his quest for the next thing was tempered by his desire to create peace. Some would call him rather boring, but the more Preston dove into his work as a Green Lantern, the more he discarded the man underneath the mask.
"Preston, I think we've done enough peace-keeping missions on earth. You hardly treat other planets like this." The one exception was Sotra, but Catalea would consider her planet a home to Preston as well. She had yet to get acquainted with Earth like he had with Sotra. Her mask clicked to disengage, and the hero of the Vespasian people looked upon the planet below them with naked eyes.
"Besides. I've seen Paris, Kyoto, Washington, Central City, Rio, Switzerland, many in between and far beyond. Where else will we go?" Between their missions, taking care of various criminals that they had come into contact with in their travels, he really did show her many great places around the earth. Despite this, Preston didn't feel like it was enough. Like he was missing something that she had to see to witness another facet of beauty on the planet he called home.
Preston racked his brain trying to think of a new location. Themiscyra was not only a place already traveled to, but off limits. Period. Well, at least to him. Catalea, being an honorable warrior, was allowed in as she pleased. Not even his title of Green Lantern and super powered superstar of the planet would make the warrior women budge. Genovia was going under some internal redevelopment, not to mention it being another isolationist country.
A smile worked it's way to his features. Without saying anything, Preston spun on his heels and began to walk away from his wife.
"Hey!" She let out after having noticed him walking away.
Still he said nothing. He was rather quiet as she followed him with annoyance.
Preston's little walk led them to a large computer in the Watchtower. Technically the computer belonged to Zoey, but she wasn't around. Not that she'd care anyways. With several taps on the keyboard of the monster of a computer, he issued a broadcast to a certain under water city.
"Hey, Orin? You there?" Preston spoke up, his wife quirking an eye brow.
She rememebred Orin, king of the seas. He was there at the wedding. Charming man, noble.
"It's Preston. I was wondering if me and Cat would do a little tour of Poseidonis. One of the last corners of the world I have left to show her." Had it not been for the fact that they were in a giant metal box, very, very far away from the surface, Preston would have made the call on his own communicator. However, the advanced strength of the watchwoter's computers made shooting a signal all the way into the ocean much easier than any other option.
February 28th , 3:36 PM EST
Poseidonis University, Lycus Dorm
It was back to the books. For real, this time. No more powers, no more gadgets, no more patrols. It was school. Normalcy. To be quite honest, Virgil was having a blast. This was something he never had in Dakota. If it wasn't the gangs, it was his powers, and if it wasn't his powers, it was something else. Now it was just him.
But that wasn't a bad thing.
He had school, he even had friends. He was doing well. While his grades were rather normal during his first leg of time there at the university, when he put away his distractions and double life, he had time to focus on his academics and smash them out of the water. He wasn't on the same level as Richie, but Virgil Hawkins was a damn smart kid.
He sat by the doorway of the Lycus dorm, his back against the building and a notebook in his hands. Electrical engineering and physics were his zone, and he was going to make sure that all of his work from now on was better than anything that came before it. After all, he had to make up for lost time.
February 28th, 12:02 PM
Harper Heights, San Francisco
The city was on its way to being hers
Who knew that all you had to do to strongarm city officials was abduct them in your alien powersuit that you found in El Paso so many years ago? Well, Patty had an idea about that.
Her generals, her favored allies, started out as a group of idiots who were also gifted great power. They just needed to be put in line, and to have their perspectives changed a little. The Five Fighters, a surprisingly coordinate group of hustlers with powers given to them by some supernatural means, were gifted not only in abilities, but weaponry.
She took the lead, of course. Apex, the most powerful villain on the west coast, worked hard to intimidate and scare anyone and everyone with political power. The Five Fighters ushered in a wave of crime with skill and grace. Patricia Palomo, a newcomer to the scene, kept her head low. She had the money, she was getting the influence, but her pride was getting the better of her.
As fun as it was to push congressmen around, she wanted that podium. She wanted the city in her hands directly. Night after night she mulled over her plans for the future. Her son, first and foremost, was growing up. She didn't want him in this business. Not this life. He would find his path, and she would set the light on it so he could walk it unimpeded.
She sat in her office. Shotaro stood by the door, the other four were posted around the city, making sure their growing empire was running like a train.
A pen twirled between her skilled fingers. One one hand, Patty could be the new face of San Francisco. She could use the will of her mafia to get whatever she wanted done, and when things didn't work out, Apex could take a visit. However, people would connect the dots at some point. By then, would it really matter? The city in her hands, metahumans, hustlers, and workers at her disposal, proxy after proxy. What could go wrong?
Ding dong!
For now, the question would have to remain unanswered. Patty removed herself from her chair. Shotaro, ever the loyal guardian and leader of his team, stiffened his shoulders and watched her leave the office. A quick word to him made him relax and take his departure as well. However, he didn't leave the house. Tobias was Shotaro's other priority, and sometimes the bosses had the strangest requests. Like "straight chillin".
Patty returned to the living room of her house to see her son and her second in command butting heads over something trivial. She didn't care. When you had as much money and power as she did, why would you care about anything? It was good to relax a little. Be a little normal.
And normal meant that it was pizza night.
"Oh," Though somewhat surprised by her desire to follow him onto the ship, he didn't tell her no. "Well, follow me."
Ryland stepped onto the gangplank and welcomed himself back aboard the ship. None of the crew paid either of them any attention walking up onto the ship. Business as normal. The crew knew better than to hassle women, especially when the captain's dog was the one leading said woman around the boat. He'd inform her, then she'd have the hide of anyone who harassed a woman.
The woman, Mira, he believed he overheard her name, stationed herself on the railing of the ship, looking out onto the seas with an expression he couldn't quite pin down. She seemed fine right there, so he dove into the lower decks to find what he was looking for. All around in the nooks and crannies of the ship lay his wooden figures, but the maidens were somewhat of a treasure to him. Those were the ones he had hidden away from prying eyes.
A quick jump back up onto the main deck of the ship and Ryland presented Mira with two figures. To say that there was a significant jump and quality would be somewhat of an understatement. While the ones he gave to her before were the product of idle work and the need to keep busy, these two could really be called works.Ryland put days worth of time and effort into each one, and his dedication to the craft showed. They still carried a few amateur mistakes, but the fine detail Mira had spotted in the others was much more common and balanced through the figures.
The maidens of the seas, with the body of the woman and a tail like a fish to travel across their domain with ease. His work couldn't properly transcribe their beauty into wood, but they were far from shoddy. Their tails curled back up at the end, their long, flowing hair covered essentials, and faces touched with detail to try and express their beauty properly.
He gave her a minute to look them over. The crew, noticing this exchange, smirked and chortled, but said nothing to either of them. "So..." He looked at her nervously. "How are they? Worth anything?" He truly hoped they were. If not, he'd need to keep at it, make them better until they were perfect. Hopefully, hopefully, they met her standards.
Ryland stepped onto the gangplank and welcomed himself back aboard the ship. None of the crew paid either of them any attention walking up onto the ship. Business as normal. The crew knew better than to hassle women, especially when the captain's dog was the one leading said woman around the boat. He'd inform her, then she'd have the hide of anyone who harassed a woman.
The woman, Mira, he believed he overheard her name, stationed herself on the railing of the ship, looking out onto the seas with an expression he couldn't quite pin down. She seemed fine right there, so he dove into the lower decks to find what he was looking for. All around in the nooks and crannies of the ship lay his wooden figures, but the maidens were somewhat of a treasure to him. Those were the ones he had hidden away from prying eyes.
A quick jump back up onto the main deck of the ship and Ryland presented Mira with two figures. To say that there was a significant jump and quality would be somewhat of an understatement. While the ones he gave to her before were the product of idle work and the need to keep busy, these two could really be called works.Ryland put days worth of time and effort into each one, and his dedication to the craft showed. They still carried a few amateur mistakes, but the fine detail Mira had spotted in the others was much more common and balanced through the figures.
The maidens of the seas, with the body of the woman and a tail like a fish to travel across their domain with ease. His work couldn't properly transcribe their beauty into wood, but they were far from shoddy. Their tails curled back up at the end, their long, flowing hair covered essentials, and faces touched with detail to try and express their beauty properly.
He gave her a minute to look them over. The crew, noticing this exchange, smirked and chortled, but said nothing to either of them. "So..." He looked at her nervously. "How are they? Worth anything?" He truly hoped they were. If not, he'd need to keep at it, make them better until they were perfect. Hopefully, hopefully, they met her standards.
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