Difference between revisions of "Destiny Called - RPLOG"
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| − | <div></div> | + | <div></div><br> <br>The Maritime District is abuzz with activity, as a relativly large airship is being filled to the brim with a variety of supplies... Crates and barrels of food and drink, bundles of wood and countless bags of tools being hefted up onto the ship. Along it's side, it has a single ramp laid out for individuals to walk up, where a few guards at the top check for work orders to seperate craftsmen from the paid swords. |
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| + | A thin and scrawny male Blackback is near the two guards, flipping through the papers on his clipboard as he speaks. "Marcidius, please ensure all of the hired hands are in the safety of the center of the ship, and our esteemed swords are ready at the decks and cannons if you would? I've no interest in losing any of my craftsmen, as that would make our point here moot would it not?"<br> <br>Thelergramor walks into the Maritime District, in a completely fucked mood as his cannon hangs from his shoulder. Shirtless, plague masked, pants-wearing heavily armed wolf. Figured an expedition would give him a reason to get the hell out of Firmament for a while; avoid his problems. And there's an airship! "...I hate flying." Walks towards the Blackback. "You. You in charge here? I'm here to... do.. job things."<br> <br>After making sure all of her gear was in order, Cassidy makes her way for the airship dressed up in her red longcoat and a long black skirt, her spelltome resting in her arms and held to her chest. "This is going to be fun," she murmurs behind her mask as she's up to the ramp, nodding at the guards. "I'm here to assist."<br> <br>With the rhythmic slap of sandals upon stone and the rattling of layers of armor shifting over each other, a proud little Giraffe marches up to the overseers. He's resplendent in finely polished (and likely fresh-purchased) armor, a ceremonial helmet with a fiery red strip of tucked under his arm...and despite all that, he's still not even five feet tall. | ||
| + | "Llewellyn Longenecker, Freesword, reporting," he announces crisply, a wary nod cast to the wolf and fox already there. It was official business, no room for personal grudges...but all the same, he was gonna keep an eye on these two...especially the wolf.<br> <br>Rev After locking up his room at the freeswords, and naturally making sure his gear is in order. Rev makes his way to the maritime district. The wolf is at the moment dressed in his usual tunic, and trousers. With his boots vest, and gloves completing his outfit. The bag he carries on his back rattles with each stwp thanks to the armor contained within it. The wolf puffs on his kiseru pipe as he makes his way towards the others with a felling ax in hand. "Well niw it seems we have a way of running into eachother on jobs Thelegramor." The large wolf says as he exahkes a cloud if smoke.<br> <br>Arimia makes her own way to the preped airship, climbing aboard with little fanfare, the small raccoon not even bothering to introduce herself. Once aboard she settles down on the deck, somewhere she hopes will be out of the way, and starts to go through her things. She's wearing her usual vest and shorts, with a cloak, clasped by her defaced clan badges, over it all. From numerous pockets in the cloak she starts to pull out and examine items. A dagger, several darts, a couple scrolls, and so on. This is followed by an opaque vial that she pulls out and opens, the 'coon dipping a thin bristled brush into it and beginning to coat the claws of her metallic arm with whatever it is. <br> <br>Natska remains close to Cassidy as she follows the fennec to the ship. She's wearing her full armor for this event, sword at her side. She looks over therather large crew of assorted Freeswords, gives Arimia a small nod, and remains otherwise quiet as she waits.<br> <br>Fenris arrives in the weathered facade of Ash Dustcloak, mercenary for hire. The silvery lynx flicks aside a foul smelling cigarette and adjusts the long musket strapped across his back. He smooths his thick, handlebar mustache and makes his way up the gangplank. "Name's Dustcloak, mate," he says to the being with the clipboard, "Ash Dustcloak. You got the cash, then I'm your cat. " The lynx fingers one of the long teeth on his obviously carnivorous necklace. "Just give me a cannon to shoot," he says, "Always wanted to mess with one of the big buggers,"<br> <br>Having heard of a lucritive job opportunity, Fayrmune wanders around the airship docks looking for where to sign up. Seeing a cluster of other freeswords, several of whom she knows, she moves swiftly in that direction. "Konnichiwa, Comrades!", she says, bowing to the group. Is this where we are signing up for this expedition?", she asks. "It sounds like something where we can earn much Glory!"<br> <br>The Blackback looks to Thelergramor and Fenris with an apathetic gaze for a moment before speaking up. "Quite. You lot can take your positions upon the deck then, I suppose we've enough below to man the cannons..." The Blackback then nodding to the guards as they unclasp the gangplank and let it fall to the ground below as the final bits of supplies are hauled up into the ship. | ||
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| + | "To those of you whom have read the papers out and about, I am Varlin Blackback, the funder of this expedition. I shall not put this in light terms, we are heading into danger. The land in the mountains we've discovered that has a suitable area for us, is currently inhabbited by some large creatures that we need to clear out first... Our first responsability, shall be establishing a landing pad for easier convoying of resources. By this, I mean -you- lot will be aiding in protecting my workers as they build as fast as they can. I stress the importance of this, because if we are stranded back in those mountains, we are not merely walking out. -However-, you will all be paid considerably well for your time and efforts, and in the case of any casualties your next of kin or bonded shall recieve a larger compensation bonus. Now, questions before we take off?"<br> <br>Thelergramor nods to Rev. "Seems we do, Rev, yeah." Then notices Cassidy and Natska. Not getting away from his problems, it seems. "Cassidy, Natska. Nice to see you again..." Short wave to the others. "Ash, hello." Starts up the gangplank without another word. Finds somewhere to stand on the deck; hates the deck. No questions for the Blackback. 'Kill things before they kill us' is a simple enough job.<br> <br>"Now... How far away are we going from Firebough?" Cassidy asks, brow raised behind the porcelain as she gives a gentle nod to Thelergramor. "Well, Natska," she says, eyeing the armour over. "If you're going in close... Do be careful, hm? I'll be at your back all the same, but do be careful."<br> <br>Arimia continues to apply whatever that liquid is to her claws, brush switching hands to apply it to her natural claws as well, as the Blackback speaks. She glances up when he's done, nodding in return to Natska before tilting her head in response to Cassidy's words. Letting out a soft snort she speaks up, "If she can't handle herself, don' let her along. If she can, get off her arse 'bout it. Metaphorically, anyway. Ain't talkin' literally. What you lot do behind closed doors ain' my business." | ||
Revision as of 04:52, 27 October 2014
Participants
Date
26/10/477
Log
The Maritime District is abuzz with activity, as a relativly large airship is being filled to the brim with a variety of supplies... Crates and barrels of food and drink, bundles of wood and countless bags of tools being hefted up onto the ship. Along it's side, it has a single ramp laid out for individuals to walk up, where a few guards at the top check for work orders to seperate craftsmen from the paid swords.
A thin and scrawny male Blackback is near the two guards, flipping through the papers on his clipboard as he speaks. "Marcidius, please ensure all of the hired hands are in the safety of the center of the ship, and our esteemed swords are ready at the decks and cannons if you would? I've no interest in losing any of my craftsmen, as that would make our point here moot would it not?"
Thelergramor walks into the Maritime District, in a completely fucked mood as his cannon hangs from his shoulder. Shirtless, plague masked, pants-wearing heavily armed wolf. Figured an expedition would give him a reason to get the hell out of Firmament for a while; avoid his problems. And there's an airship! "...I hate flying." Walks towards the Blackback. "You. You in charge here? I'm here to... do.. job things."
After making sure all of her gear was in order, Cassidy makes her way for the airship dressed up in her red longcoat and a long black skirt, her spelltome resting in her arms and held to her chest. "This is going to be fun," she murmurs behind her mask as she's up to the ramp, nodding at the guards. "I'm here to assist."
With the rhythmic slap of sandals upon stone and the rattling of layers of armor shifting over each other, a proud little Giraffe marches up to the overseers. He's resplendent in finely polished (and likely fresh-purchased) armor, a ceremonial helmet with a fiery red strip of tucked under his arm...and despite all that, he's still not even five feet tall.
"Llewellyn Longenecker, Freesword, reporting," he announces crisply, a wary nod cast to the wolf and fox already there. It was official business, no room for personal grudges...but all the same, he was gonna keep an eye on these two...especially the wolf.
Rev After locking up his room at the freeswords, and naturally making sure his gear is in order. Rev makes his way to the maritime district. The wolf is at the moment dressed in his usual tunic, and trousers. With his boots vest, and gloves completing his outfit. The bag he carries on his back rattles with each stwp thanks to the armor contained within it. The wolf puffs on his kiseru pipe as he makes his way towards the others with a felling ax in hand. "Well niw it seems we have a way of running into eachother on jobs Thelegramor." The large wolf says as he exahkes a cloud if smoke.
Arimia makes her own way to the preped airship, climbing aboard with little fanfare, the small raccoon not even bothering to introduce herself. Once aboard she settles down on the deck, somewhere she hopes will be out of the way, and starts to go through her things. She's wearing her usual vest and shorts, with a cloak, clasped by her defaced clan badges, over it all. From numerous pockets in the cloak she starts to pull out and examine items. A dagger, several darts, a couple scrolls, and so on. This is followed by an opaque vial that she pulls out and opens, the 'coon dipping a thin bristled brush into it and beginning to coat the claws of her metallic arm with whatever it is.
Natska remains close to Cassidy as she follows the fennec to the ship. She's wearing her full armor for this event, sword at her side. She looks over therather large crew of assorted Freeswords, gives Arimia a small nod, and remains otherwise quiet as she waits.
Fenris arrives in the weathered facade of Ash Dustcloak, mercenary for hire. The silvery lynx flicks aside a foul smelling cigarette and adjusts the long musket strapped across his back. He smooths his thick, handlebar mustache and makes his way up the gangplank. "Name's Dustcloak, mate," he says to the being with the clipboard, "Ash Dustcloak. You got the cash, then I'm your cat. " The lynx fingers one of the long teeth on his obviously carnivorous necklace. "Just give me a cannon to shoot," he says, "Always wanted to mess with one of the big buggers,"
Having heard of a lucritive job opportunity, Fayrmune wanders around the airship docks looking for where to sign up. Seeing a cluster of other freeswords, several of whom she knows, she moves swiftly in that direction. "Konnichiwa, Comrades!", she says, bowing to the group. Is this where we are signing up for this expedition?", she asks. "It sounds like something where we can earn much Glory!"
The Blackback looks to Thelergramor and Fenris with an apathetic gaze for a moment before speaking up. "Quite. You lot can take your positions upon the deck then, I suppose we've enough below to man the cannons..." The Blackback then nodding to the guards as they unclasp the gangplank and let it fall to the ground below as the final bits of supplies are hauled up into the ship.
"To those of you whom have read the papers out and about, I am Varlin Blackback, the funder of this expedition. I shall not put this in light terms, we are heading into danger. The land in the mountains we've discovered that has a suitable area for us, is currently inhabbited by some large creatures that we need to clear out first... Our first responsability, shall be establishing a landing pad for easier convoying of resources. By this, I mean -you- lot will be aiding in protecting my workers as they build as fast as they can. I stress the importance of this, because if we are stranded back in those mountains, we are not merely walking out. -However-, you will all be paid considerably well for your time and efforts, and in the case of any casualties your next of kin or bonded shall recieve a larger compensation bonus. Now, questions before we take off?"
Thelergramor nods to Rev. "Seems we do, Rev, yeah." Then notices Cassidy and Natska. Not getting away from his problems, it seems. "Cassidy, Natska. Nice to see you again..." Short wave to the others. "Ash, hello." Starts up the gangplank without another word. Finds somewhere to stand on the deck; hates the deck. No questions for the Blackback. 'Kill things before they kill us' is a simple enough job.
"Now... How far away are we going from Firebough?" Cassidy asks, brow raised behind the porcelain as she gives a gentle nod to Thelergramor. "Well, Natska," she says, eyeing the armour over. "If you're going in close... Do be careful, hm? I'll be at your back all the same, but do be careful."
Arimia continues to apply whatever that liquid is to her claws, brush switching hands to apply it to her natural claws as well, as the Blackback speaks. She glances up when he's done, nodding in return to Natska before tilting her head in response to Cassidy's words. Letting out a soft snort she speaks up, "If she can't handle herself, don' let her along. If she can, get off her arse 'bout it. Metaphorically, anyway. Ain't talkin' literally. What you lot do behind closed doors ain' my business."
