Tesserach

Smoke and Steel (A pike and shot era RP concept)

Perfect. I'm taking heavy inspiration from Maximilien Robespierre and Guy Fawkes as well, but the working backstory is straight out of Oliver Cromwell: a wealthy-ish commoner with a surprising acumen for cavalry command, furthering a righteous cause while also exploiting the turmoil to ruthlessly seize power. The more brutal the methods (the more ethically ambiguous the character's legacy) the better.

@TokyoPewPew

Welcome to the party. I wouldn't worry about his legacy too much, wait till you meet the guys you'll be working with.

It actually might be worth touching base to hammer out backstories since anyone in the Red Faction probably knows each other reasonably by this point.

Smoke and Steel (A pike and shot era RP concept)

Pretty much yes.

Smoke and Steel (A pike and shot era RP concept)

Skotinódasos - half-Inburian half-Morktree native escaped slave and shaman-in-chief ready to bring the most metal faction in the history of factions to the Red Wyvern slave revolt.

There will be smoke. There will be steel.
The will be the blood that spills and the fire that cleanses.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Ioan M. Foster

The Hollow Tap

“Mr. Ioan,” he greets, his voice deep and smooth. He had a wide smile on his face as he looked towards the man, sizing him up as he did. “Welcome to the Hollow Tap. Come up to my office—we’ve got some things to discuss I presume.” Stepping aside, he gestured with a hand to invite Ioan to follow along before he spotted Marco running towards him.

Physically, there wasn't much to Ioan Foster to size up. He was probably the shortest man in the whole room and quite a few a few of the women as well. On the other hand, the wait didn't seem to have bothered Foster at all. Nor the fact that he'd spent the time standing, leaning against the bar. In fact, for those that had been present, his stillness had been a little unsettling.

"Just waiting." He'd said when asked by the bartender if he wanted something, coming alive briefly to smile and make eye contact before resuming his inert waiting. He didn't move, didn't fidget, didn't seem uncomfortable at all. He just waited in silence.

Gideon's arrival and voice, like a spell, seemed to have reanimated Mr Foster from his torpor. Even this was short lived though with Marcus' sudden arrival. The man's bulky frame literally cast Foster in his shadow. Foster himself made a casual glance over his shoulder at Marcus' arrival, noted his haste and stood wordlessly aside to let the man speak with his boss.

“Boss, the job went south. They’re calling in help, Vin needs me,” Marco paused as he raised up a medic bag.

“Mr. Ioan, I know you have been waiting but I must reschedule. If you wanted to wait I will be back before long,” Gideon paused as he looked over to Seren, “you too Seren. Food and drinks are on the house if you wait.”

Foster offered Gideon a sympathetic smile then checked his pocket watch while Gideon and Marcus ran out. His eyes flitted briefly to the medical bag Marcus raised up and for a time after the pair left, foster stood motionless. One could almost see him weighing staying or leaving. Finally he glanced at his pocket watch before folding it back inside the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and approached the bar to resume his waiting.

Seren walked up to the bar and sat down and grabbed a menu. They looked it over before they pulled out their phone, and opened ticktok. On the screen was one of the more recent ticktok trends, where two people would play rock, paper, scissors. The winner would take a bite of food, while the loser would need to run laps around whatever area they were in. When they got back from the laps, the two would play rock, paper, scissors once again. Seren looked towards Ioan, and smirked. They wanted to record the video later on, maybe rope Bryn or Elara or anyone else into it, but something drew her to Ioan. Maybe he was willing to give a silly ticktok trend a chance.

“So. You’re meeting Gideon today as well? What skeletons in your closest is he taking care of today,” Seren

Ioan Foster's head turned.

Cool blue eyes met Seren's, then they flicked briefly over the rest of her, then back to her eyes. "Skeletons? Oh no..." He spoke as though he found the idea of going to Gideon to have skeletons taken care of amusing. The man seemed to hardly be interested in anything, or anyone in the bar before; not the patrons, not the other girls floating around and he hadn't even looked at a drink the entire time he'd been there. Now though, in addressing him, Seren could feel she suddenly had this man's full and undivided attention. "You know." He began, his tone slow, deliberate, the ghost of a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. "Back when I knew Gideon a person could get themselves in real trouble in a place like this, asking questions of the wrong people."

There was a deliberate pause in which he refused to break eye contact. He seemed not at all concerned whether this made her uncomfortable or not. "Which makes you either very brave or..." There was another long pause in which Ioan Foster was watching her as though she were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, or the way a cat watches a bird. "... interesting."

Empire of the Clouds

Chamer

"Making sure I can really get the money?" Zoe asked with a smirk, drawing herself up to her full, not particularly imposing height and tossing her head haughtily, though the smirk never left her face, making the gesture seem more ironic than anything else, "I'm very persuasive," she assured him.

@Dyelli Beybi

"I'll be putting down as well."

Chamer appeared in the doorway, his sterner voice contrasting with Zoe's as his eyes watched the pair. The poet had spent much of the journey skulking in his room, or writing, or occasionally trying to 'make himself useful' by harassing Krasikos or Ferrari to show him how to do engine maintenance or operate the wireless. Usually wildly over-dressed, barely dressed at all and drunk.

Here though he looked more put together than he had the entire voyage. Like a new man. Or a sober one at least. He was also dressed in what passed for a more sensible ensemble. He wore a white button-down shirt covered with a tightly fit silk waistcoat in earthy tones, and intricate gold-threaded brocade-work. His breeches were expensive looking and finely worked doe-skin leather, matched by tall leather boots. For good measure he wore a black derby hat.

He looked like a rich person looked like trying to dress like a cowboy.

Notably, to complete the look, he wore a pistol on his belt.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

For anyone going back to the cemetery, I'm just throwing a reminder here as well the co-write is now active in discord post-planning-ic - feel free to hop in.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

When Theo brought up the first victim, the male grave digger, Aleyn had an idea and walked over to the rest of the group to speak. "About what Theo just said, and tell me if this seems out of place, but since the first victim was a grave digger and not like the rest of the victims and the killer seems to favor the graveyard. What if the grave digger dung somewhere he should not have and woke something up?"

@Theyra

Rudy, still looking tired shook his head. "It'd be far more productive assisting Fraulen Wickler with the police than inventing ghost stories. The evidence so far, has ruled out dogs. We're looking now at a very disturbed individual - I'm sure if our culprit was some form of ghoul the evidenc will lead us there. Until then we, let's stick to the evidence in front of us without indulging the Nachtewache and their penny-dreadful children's fairytales." With a long sigh Rudy rubbed his temples. "I'll follow up with the cemetery's administrators this afternoon. Any are welcome to join me, but I need rest."

With that Rudy stalked, wearily, off.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

At this point we might be able to just dogpile it.

Empire of the Clouds

Mitunbaal Vasiliou and Chamer

Cowritten by [.@Bingelly] and Tesserach

---

Having stormed out of the gondola during the meeting, Chamer didn't go far. Down the passageway, he knelt next to his open travel trunk. The contents were half-removed, stacked in piles around the trunk as he sorted through the disordered contents packed, it seemed, in a hurry. Mostly tailored wardrobe materials, along with books, papers and a small arsenal of spirits, absinthe, and some other pharmaceutical looking powders, plants and herbs.

Chamer's main focus seemed to be his paperwork and notebooks, flipping angrily through them and sorting them - looking rather like a petulant man-child.

Mitunbaal caught up to the man quickly, and looked at the frantic display of paperwork and belongings with a mixture of familiarity and contempt. She crossed her arms with a sigh. "Would this not be easier in one of the rooms?" she suggested as she moved to grab her own set of belongings.

"About the same really." There was still a hint of irritation in his voice, though the energy in his voice was much diminished from earlier in the gondola. "I simply need discover what's missing. It shall be easier to ruminate over my losses in a cabin later I expect though."

"If that pleases you," Mitunbaal replied with a shrug. She glanced out one of the porthole, pondering the stars visable off in the distance. "Will that rumination come with more tequila or is there some gin in that trunk, sir?"

"Gin?" Chamer sighed then raised a skeptical eyebrow at this, then leaning over the trunk he sifted through an array of clothes, pulling out some additional bottles that he added to the existing arsenal of alcohol and glassware containing various medicines that he began to list off. "I have tequila, aguardiente, chicha - bourbon - and absinthe," Then some small glass containers. "Marijuana, mushrooms, and - of course - cocaine. No gin." After a moment he selected a particular bottle of chicha. "Ah, tonight I think is a chicha de jora night."

"How," Mitunbaal paused for a moment, "artistic. I assume most of those are Iktani, Sir?"

"The bourbon and absinthe are continental vices. I had some other rare bottles from back home, but I seem to have lost a great deal today."

"Indeed you have, sir. As have most of us." Mitunabaal agreed. "It's a better time than any for some strong drink, but I suggest we do so in a cabin or what may remain of the old lounge. Less chances for accidents involving windows... or firearms."

Chamer stiffened then as though some momentous though occurred to him just then. "But of course, you're right. Here I am sulking in a corridor - this should be a celebration of life!" Immediately he began rifling loose paper and bottles back into the trunk until items were piled haphazzaddpy within such that the lid could not be closed.

Then seizing upon the handle on one side began dragging it towards the cabin areas. "Would you mind terribly getting the door?" He called even as he was backing towards it.

"Of course, I wouldn't mind at all," Mitunbaal replied as she lugged her own trunk around him and, with her free hand, opened the door. The cabin that greeted was fairly empty. A double bunk and a set of footlockers were all that greeted the pair as they both stepped through the door. "I supposed austerity was to be expected," Mitunbaal added with an awkward chuckle.

Chamer dragged his trunk inside the berth by one hand, shoving it to one side. "If one is to properly celebrate the life of a man that seized every day given him..." Leaning over the trunk he looked inside, then straightening and turning to face Mitunbaal, he presented what appeared to be a pungent, hand-rolled cigar. "This I think is more appropriate. Do you partake Miss...?" Chamer raised an inquisitive eyebrow, as he stepped aside gesturing in offer to help Mitunbaal with her own trunk.

"Vasiliou," she said, glancing at the cigar without a sense of hesitation. Though she also appeared all too unwilling to part with her trunk. "It has been some time since I've indulged in that particular vice, but, if you feel it would honor your man's life, I believe I can make an exception for today."

Chamer noted Miss Vasiliou's partiality to her trunk and stepped out of her way to hold the door for her "A life lived without vice is one scarcely lived at all." He watched her, gesturing with his foot towards a spot beside the door her trunk would fit. "Your effects should be safe there for a time."

"I am familiar with the thought," she nodded as she placed her trunk down, "I knew a more than a few avant-guardists in Inbur and Neapol in my younger days." Digging through the satchel she also carried, she produced a box of matches. "You may need these."

Chamer took the offered box of matches and handed Mitunbaal the fat, hand-rolled cigar. "Rank amateurs if my own experiences on the continent are any indication. This is to be a proper celebration of life!" He declared, striking the match and gesturing with the still burning match toward the cigar now in her hand. Even unlit the cigar was already filling the cabin with the pungeant smell of reefer.

Chamer glanced to the door, then back to Mitunbaal, making and holding intense eye contact as he reached out with his free hand, and flicked the door closed behind them.

Mitunbaal placed the cigar in her mouth, and leaned over the match. The cigar lit with a quiet crackle that was satisfying if one could hear it. Drawing a long pull, the acrid smoke filled her mouth, throat, and lungs. Mitunbaal coughed harshly instinctively, expelling the smoke in a cloud "Dawnbringer's fury," she choked out, "that's potent."

Chamer smiled at that, flicking his wrist and tossing the spent match into the rubbish bin. "Would you wish it any other way? My people consider such herbs sacred, the starting point of a spiritual journey." He intoned through the thick, pungent cloud of smoke. "Which is what I intend tonight."

Chamer turned slowly, and knelt before the trunk again, removing several other implements. A bottle of absinthe, and two ornate lacquerware containers that he set aside with something approaching reverence. Glancing over his shoulder at Mitunbaal he asked. "Interested?"

"Perhaps I may be," she offered a faint smile and a nod towards the bottle of absinthe. "Though I pray there aren't any priests aboard. They most assuredly would call this a sin." She laughed warmly, "Though one of my associates was once challenged by the brother of a priest to a duel over a similar affair."

Chamer turned looked at Mitunbaal and nodded appreciatively at that. "Very nice." He then turned back to the trunk, producing two crystal glasses from one of the laquer cases, and pouring a generous portion of absinthe into each, eyeing the levels as though he were a chemist carefully measuring out his reagents.

"Have a seat." He offered, gesturing towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable. It may take a few minutes before the herbs start to have an effect."

"I'm aware," Mitunbaal replied before raising the cigar to her mouth and taking another hit. This time, she managed to stymie the cough and exhaled with a sigh before offering the cigar in turn to Chamer. "So, what brought you to my fine country?"

Chamer took the cigar, balancing it on his lip and inhaling deeply. Mitunbaal's question though seemed to cause him pause, enough so that he took another toke before finally responding. "Family disagreements. An unpatriotic appreciation of the Inburian classics and desire to visit the center of the civilized world." He shifted and reached for the two glasses. "An endless restlessness spurred by disquiet at the thought dying having never truly lived."

Mitunbaal smiled at Chamer's answer. "A similar craving for knowledge drove me eastward, to the sparse interior and barren north of my people's lands. The blight was our undoing, while also being placed the center of our modern myth. It's maddening oxymoron, and an enduring mystery despite it's apocalyptic scale. I hope to understand it one day."

"Now there's a worthy striving." Chamer turned to face Mitunbaal, gazing up at her appraisingly as he passed the cigar from his lips to his fingers, then offered it up to her. Settling in there on the floor he sat crosslegged, propped against his travel trunk. "It's so rare to meet someone who's managed to resist the quiet death of the heart that infests modernity. Is that what brought you to Inbur?"

"I am an Inburian citizen by birth, as my family is from Neapol." Mitunball explained, only pausing to take another puff of the cigar as she joined him on the floor. "The University of Constaninos the Second is the oldest university on the Circle Sea. Its reference collection is quite extensive, even after the Haltian Conquest and the Restoration War, and it is superior to the universities in Neapol. Field expeditions are significantly more exciting than both, however, but the Calarians launched their pitiful attempt to spread their goddless revolution while I was digging through the University's archives."

"You know, I actually gave a talk there. I was staying with with the head of the literature department when I first arrived." Chamer shuffled to the side a little to make room for Mitunbaal next to him. He then added matter-of-factly. "He and his wife were both communalists by the way."

"I had my suspicions," Mitunbaal dryly replied, "alongside rumors of certain queer proclivities of the pair," Staring at her trunk, she coughed again. "I do have incense with me. We can burn it once we've finished with the cigar."

Chamer nodded silently at that, sitting up on his knees and picking up the two glasses of absinthe he'd poured earlier before turning towards her and offering her one of them. "I have a proposal. But it might see you somewhat preoccupied to be lighting incense." Something of a mischievous smirk creased his lips.

"Oh," she laughed, returning the smirk with one of her own as she reached for the glass, "I believe I am capable of a great many things."

"I certainly hope so. Once this cigar has done its work, what I envision is you taking a seat up on that bed." He tilted his head in the direction of the bed while watching her intently, his expression and eyes lighting up. "At which point, I, being here on my knees in supplication before you, shall begin to slowly worship you with my lips until you have achieved a state of sublime relaxation as most people shall never know in their lives.

"Then, we shall spice things up by finishing these glasses - which we will have saved for the occasion - in order to further heighten the experience. At which point I shall pounce upon you like a hungry animal and we shall throw ourselves completely at one another, taking one or two of these mushrooms..." Reaching behind him he flipped open the lid to the remaining lacquerware container, revealing what appeared to be group of mushrooms before he continued, like a chef discussing a full course meal he'd prepared. "... which we will lightly season with just a sprinkle of cocaine! Then once we have both expended ourselves completely we shall drift off in the most perfect of endings to an otherwise abysmal day."

Into the silence that followed he simply glanced to the bed and asked. "Shall we?"

"You, sir, are a devil," Mitunbaal lowly replied as she began to remove her coat. "And tonight, I shall be a poor wayward sinner. May God forgive me for my sins." However, her expression turned forlorn as she reached for the glass and raised it, "And may your man find eternal peace in the light of the dawn."

Chamer's expresion momentarily faltered. "He's on his way to the land of the dead heroes. Up there, among the stars." He gestured off in the distance, where the sacred stars might've glimmered beyond the cabin window. But then a wicked grin creased Chamer's lips as he shuffled towards her on his knees. "There are other paths to the divine. Why, without devils and sinners there'd be no need for holy men or gods. Tonight, let this devil be your guide."

---

Outside the zeppelin, the air was thick with the sound of her engines. The night dark as the blinds were struck, a solitary light within remaining on through the night and until the breaking of the dawn when finally it was struck out.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

"A question for the groundskeeper, or whoever's in charge of the cemetery." Rudy commented. "I can look into that today. After I sleep."