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Post by Leoxander on Jun 13, 2006 8:20:50 GMT -5
'The Eternity'.Every denizen of Hollow knew what that title referred to. Here, he stood aboard the infamous ship, his freedom upon the ocean blue. Leo wasn't a hero, or a veteran ready to tell a bunch of people what to do. He was a Captain ready to forge bonds of alliance between himself and his selected crew; ready with hopes he could train them to overcome anything their small participation in a cruel time threw at them. As worlds must, this one was changing. New power arose in threat of destroying the old. And the ancient magic seemed to take this personally, as many of those who'd faced the challenges of the Lords of Chaos* would know. As far as Leoxander was concerned, the apocalypse was likely to come as prophecy claimed, but the pirate knew he'd heard a tale of a man and a select few to survive on an ark, once before... The sails were lined to the masts, their 'out-for-blood' crimson colors of No Quarter waiting to taste the winds that were calm, that day. It was a mix of that sea breeze and the fresh mahogany wood that created the atmosphere he loved. To Leo, it was home. But it was a dwelling he shared with his crew, and in time of business, it became strictly so. Upon the main upper deck, Leo stood in light armor that wouldn't hinder quick movements or bulk his frame too much. Between double doors leading to the quarters below, and the stairs leading to the command deck above, was a wall lined with weapons. Most of these short blades were of sailor preference; cutlasses, scimitars and rapiers, but there were other second hand tools to practice and learn with. Heavy barrels, stacked crates, and unused coils of rope worthy of such a degrading term were piled toward the prow of the privateer, no telling what those large wooden boxes held. Packs of dark powder and small stacks of weighted cannon balls were prepared beside the guns aimed out from the hull of the boat, facing east - away from the cove, toward the vast deep. The rogue took a seat calmly in the shade of the mizzenmast, watching west, where he'd spot the approach of a ferry, the only means of boarding the laddered starboard side. He was patient watching the shoreline, searching out the first signs of loyalty, though only some word had been sent of this new season. Leo waited to see who of his hands would come. * see 'The Obsidian Pool' thread.
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Post by diiroehntheliche on Jun 16, 2006 7:52:56 GMT -5
From the wooden basing of the infamous ship grew a thin fog of chilling ashen, swirling to left of Leoxander’s position. It ascended, contorting its plume shape into something faintly humanoid, as twin orbs of tombstone kin pulsate from the curtain. And then, it falls, washing away into nothingness leaving a horrific mien in wake. The lich only flashed that smile of mirthless wickedness forever enthralled upon his twisted cranium, a cadaverous grin which could only partake in conveying his ruthless abandon for good and evil; for moral right and wrong. It was the vile portrait of cruel vilification; an abomination unto itself in that death’s head grin. Three steps are taken, the ‘click’ of marrow against floorboards echoing in a hollow eeriness of the dead; as the very mien of Leoxander, frame and all, reflected within oculus of torturous void, enthralled contortion appearing ever more ornery, beyond the former aspect of the countenance. And in turn, his gutturals are offered; no played, as if an instrument of grim dismay, of hopeless callousness, a wicked pervasion to even the raspiest of the living. It was a funereal diapason of demoralizing infliction, and it strung like the former rasp, yet ten-fold in omni-presence. “…On a dead man’s chest….Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum…” The sardonic words follow suite beyond the destination, echoing through the ship itself in chaotic manner of anguish, mocking life, mocking its very existence.
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Jayde Ràmon Von'Dessia
n00blet
She didn't choose this role, but she'll play it and make it sincere, so you cry.
Posts: 2
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Post by Jayde Ràmon Von'Dessia on Jun 30, 2006 4:21:47 GMT -5
Her entrance was neither, flashy, nor probably easily acknowledged. The attention was gathered of those sailors that were lounged lazily 'round the small vessel, awaiting to lead her, and anyone else of desire out to the large, beautiful Eternity. Her hands planted firmly to the edge of the boat, steadying herself as waves crested, and rolled over her boots, to swirl around her ankles. Deftly, one leg was lifted, and thrown over the side, so she could straddle the edge, before her back was drawn erect and the other followed immediate suit. Before she had even completely regathered herself onto an awaiting bench, long strokes of the rows were given, and the boat was propelled into motion, sending her tumbling onto her backside on the curved bottom. With their aid, the ladder leading up to the main deck was held steady, enabling her to grip the rope, or otherwise, in both hands. Booted feet, and pants - encased limbs made it easily to climb upwards.. until she could swing both legs over the side of the large vessel, and lower herself to the beautifully finished wood of the still new ship. The healer was a lover, not a fighter, usually. So the Captain definitely had his work cut out for him when it came 'round to training the druidess.
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