Tabby
Derpsichord
Err... Touhou is technically a game series. It had an unofficial fan-made animu that lasted for all of about an episode, as I recall, but 'tis a PC game series.
Lords of Creation
- Thread starter Sarky
- Start date
Val Hallen
Viking God of Rock
In case you couldn't tell, I was being ironic. Of course, were I inclined to argue (which I'm not) I could always just quote Hussie...
Tabby
Derpsichord
[QUOTE="Val Hallen]In case you couldn't tell, I was being ironic. Of course, were I inclined to argue (which I'm not) I could always just quote Hussie...
[/QUOTE]
[/QUOTE]
saganite
Two Thousand Club
I'll have a backstory for you tonight, sorry about the delay. Here's a teaser for the meantime, courtesy of ~Lakkae:
Name: Unrepentant Platinum
Sobriquets: The Jackal of Dawn, Master of the Hidden Waves
Caste: Eclipse
Motivation: Ensure that no man or nation rules over another on the open seas.
Intimacies: The Greybloods (+ ardent support), Slavery (- repugnance), Grey Blood on the Horizon (+ pride), the Guild (- disgust), Freedom of the seas (+ vigilance), the Realm (- intolerant)
Appearance: The Jackal of Dawn is a mountain of a man, easily overshadowing men two meters tall and nearly as wide as two abreast. His balding head is clean-shaven, typically covered by a black bandana to cool it when basking in the full glory of the sun, save for the shock-white moustache that dominates his face. Never shaven, this moustache has seen the better portion of Platinum’s life, and its tufts now extend easily half a dozen centimeters out from each side of his face, curving upwards in apparent defiance of the will of Pasiap. Platinum’s chest, arms, and back are covered in an assortment of scars – souvenirs from a lifetime as a slave and privateer, and his stony gaze is enough to cause most to look twice, especially should they catch the glimmer of brilliance (or madness, depending on one’s perspective) in his eyes. The Jackal of Dawn, once an aging man, has regained most of long-gone youthfulness in receiving the blessings of Exaltation.
Backstory:
Platinum never knew his parents. His earliest memories were of the Ministry orphanage on Seagate, where he was told that he was a child of the Silver Prince – utter bullshit, or so he’d eventually learn. Whether it was the constant teasing for being so dark and large in a sea of pale, malnourished Skullfolk children, the ever-present attempts at religious indoctrination, or the routine black marks for disobedience, it all lead to the same endpoint
After eleven winters of anguish, he tore free from the shackles of the orphanage, scaling the walls late one cloudy night to sneak aboard the first outbound ship he could locate. This would not be the last ship Platinum would stow away on, but after nine months of being caught and dumped at various ports in Coral his luck finally ran out. A particularly enterprising individual, the captain of this last vessel decided to sell the teenager into slavery – he was healthy, for the most part, and strong, and would fetch a fair price – and quickly found a buyer in a privateer by the name of Iral “Bloodeye” Tierst.
Seventy-three seasons. Nearly fifteen years Platinum served Tierst as a rowing slave. His first six were marked with heavy resistance on his part, resistance that was met with whippings and starvations eagerly served by Tierst and his crew. While he would strain at the shackles, devise new ways to attempt to break chains and widen bars, and plan his escape attempts, Platinum never could stay ahead of them long enough to escape fully. He even participated in an attempted slave uprising, which gained nothing at the expense of a month’s worth of lashings and starvation in solitary confinement. After thirty-two seasons, his will for freedom was almost expired.
For the next nine years Platinum watched a handful of attempted uprisings pass him by, watching many of his fellow slaves die in bloody clashes and the ensuing executions. Each time he was asked if he would participate, he would decline. These decisions would cost him many companions among both new and old slaves, but not among those who survived for the same reasons he did.
Whispers of the planning of an uprising began circulating once again in Platinum’s sixty-ninth season of slavery. Rations were cut in half for all, and within a few weeks, Platinum was asked to participate again. His response was the usual “Ney,” and after this, he was left alone. At least for a season and change, that is.
In his seventy-second season of slavery, Platinum was approached by a group of mostly older slaves. When they told of him the coming uprising and asked him to participate, he was taken aback and annoyed. These were wise men, men who had understood the fruitlessness of such things. They pleaded with him, and motioned to the lone younger man who had stood quietly in the back. Platinum had never recognized this slave before, nor could remember his name. The younger man introduced himself as Jarl, smiled, and tossed Platinum a sack.
Firedust. There were many more, Jarl explained – more than enough to start a fire in the kitchen where he labored. Platinum scoffed. But the more Jarl spoke, the more Platinum seemed to become… entranced. Within ten minutes, Jarl had Platinum grumbling and admitting the plan seemed near-foolproof, but could not secure the man’s participation.
And then the day came. The hoarse call of “FIRE!” rang throughout Tierst’s ship as flames quickly enveloped the kitchen and its surroundings. As crewmembers began scrambling to put out the flames, the slaves sprang into action. A loose cage bar here, an overwhelmed guard there, and before the crew or Tierst had realized, they had lost word with a sizable portion of the lower decks. As the slaves burst into the upper decks, the captain was finally made aware of the situation.
Platinum remained obstinate all throughout this, despite the offers of freedom from passing slaves. It wasn’t until Jarl arrived that Platinum spoke. As the older slave scowled, Jarl smiled, filling the cage lock with firedust. With the light of a match, the lock was wreathed in flame, shattering in a swift blow from the iron cudgel Jarl seemed to have located. “Bloodeye awaits your presence,” the young man spoke before smashing Platinum’s chains. “You can sit here as the ship burns down, or you can die a free man. The choice is yours.” Without another word, Jarl disappeared into the upper decks. Platinum considered his situation and stretched. He did not think long.
The fighting on the top deck was dense and bloody. Outnumbering the crew nearly two to one, the revolting slaves pressed their numerical advantage while dying in droves. Platinum fought his way to Tierst’s cabin, to find the door barricaded. It was nothing a shoulder couldn’t stop. Bursting through the door, he found himself with a sword in his face. No matter. As Platinum strode forward, Tierst shrieked and ran the ex-slave through on this sword. Ignoring the pain, Platinum grabbed the captain by the head with both hands, tearing the man from the grip of his sword, and squeezed until the flailing body went limp. Without pause, he dragged the lifeless body out into the open air and threw it against the mast. As the calls of “CAP’S DEAD!” went out, Platinum pulled the sword from his gut and collapsed.
When Platinum finally woke, Tierst’s ship was officially under slave control. After much discussion, the slaves themselves had formed a horizontal hierarchy of control on the ship. Each and every slave was free to leave at any time, but so long as anyone remained on board, the worked hours equal to the next man. Rowing duties were shared among all, and there seemed to be no official leadership positions. Votes were taken for all major decisions – the choice to exile former crew members on makeshift rafts in place of mass execution, for example, or the choice to leave non-participating slaves at the nearest port in place of exile or execution. Even a name for the ship had been chosen – Grey Blood on the Horizon, homage to dire straits and murky futures the ex-slaves had once held. The ship remained en route to deliver Tierst’s cargo to Solid Shell in the Neck, and once there, a general meeting would be held to discuss what would be done next.
Platinum has stayed with Grey Blood on the Horizon and the Greybloods, the name the crew acquired as their recognition grew, since. His murder of Tierst earned him respect among the ex-slaves, and his efforts since have brought him to a position of great political power, his words holding much sway. While the crew has changed composition several times over the past thirty-some-odd years, its core of roughly twenty five members has remained the same. During this time, the vessel’s purpose has been nearly as mercurial as the crew composition itself. The Greybloods regularly engage in smuggling and legal transport, as Tierst and his crew before them, but have increasingly become involved in pirating over the years, most notably within the last decade in several high-profile raids on slaving vessels.
One such nighttime raid at the Coral port of Dawn earned Platinum his moniker “The Jackal of Dawn,” during which his idea of hopping ships, as well as employing disguises and flag manipulation, lead to the release of more than five hundred slaves. Such daring actions have earned Platinum and the other crewmembers the enmity of the Guild and powerful plutocrats in Coral. The bounties placed on their heads since have considerably increased their profile, but not in a profitable manner. One of the most recent encounters with several privateer vessels changed the future of the Greybloods forever.
No less than five days into a drug run from Newstone to Equinox, a watchman spotted two ships trailing Grey Blood on the Horizon. Within two days, the ships had caught up to the Greybloods, and a third had encircled them. Facing boarding action, Platinum issued a call for parley. As the privateer crews surrounding him cackled, Platinum boiled. He called for parley once more, this time a demand. The privateers cackled still, and a captain issued a rebuttal. “On whose grounds do ye request parley? Ye’ve got no captain!”
Platinum raged. With a loud grunt, he grabbed a spare anchor from the deck, hoisting it over his now-glowing forehead in both hands. “BY THE WILL OF THE GODS, I DEMAND PARLEY!” he roared, hurling the anchor at the midmast of the captain’s ship, tearing the six-foot wide timber in two. His body wreathed in gold and silver fire, Platinum watched as the men on all vessels around him cowered.
more to come!
Name: Unrepentant Platinum
Sobriquets: The Jackal of Dawn, Master of the Hidden Waves
Caste: Eclipse
Motivation: Ensure that no man or nation rules over another on the open seas.
Intimacies: The Greybloods (+ ardent support), Slavery (- repugnance), Grey Blood on the Horizon (+ pride), the Guild (- disgust), Freedom of the seas (+ vigilance), the Realm (- intolerant)
Appearance: The Jackal of Dawn is a mountain of a man, easily overshadowing men two meters tall and nearly as wide as two abreast. His balding head is clean-shaven, typically covered by a black bandana to cool it when basking in the full glory of the sun, save for the shock-white moustache that dominates his face. Never shaven, this moustache has seen the better portion of Platinum’s life, and its tufts now extend easily half a dozen centimeters out from each side of his face, curving upwards in apparent defiance of the will of Pasiap. Platinum’s chest, arms, and back are covered in an assortment of scars – souvenirs from a lifetime as a slave and privateer, and his stony gaze is enough to cause most to look twice, especially should they catch the glimmer of brilliance (or madness, depending on one’s perspective) in his eyes. The Jackal of Dawn, once an aging man, has regained most of long-gone youthfulness in receiving the blessings of Exaltation.
Backstory:
Platinum never knew his parents. His earliest memories were of the Ministry orphanage on Seagate, where he was told that he was a child of the Silver Prince – utter bullshit, or so he’d eventually learn. Whether it was the constant teasing for being so dark and large in a sea of pale, malnourished Skullfolk children, the ever-present attempts at religious indoctrination, or the routine black marks for disobedience, it all lead to the same endpoint
After eleven winters of anguish, he tore free from the shackles of the orphanage, scaling the walls late one cloudy night to sneak aboard the first outbound ship he could locate. This would not be the last ship Platinum would stow away on, but after nine months of being caught and dumped at various ports in Coral his luck finally ran out. A particularly enterprising individual, the captain of this last vessel decided to sell the teenager into slavery – he was healthy, for the most part, and strong, and would fetch a fair price – and quickly found a buyer in a privateer by the name of Iral “Bloodeye” Tierst.
Seventy-three seasons. Nearly fifteen years Platinum served Tierst as a rowing slave. His first six were marked with heavy resistance on his part, resistance that was met with whippings and starvations eagerly served by Tierst and his crew. While he would strain at the shackles, devise new ways to attempt to break chains and widen bars, and plan his escape attempts, Platinum never could stay ahead of them long enough to escape fully. He even participated in an attempted slave uprising, which gained nothing at the expense of a month’s worth of lashings and starvation in solitary confinement. After thirty-two seasons, his will for freedom was almost expired.
For the next nine years Platinum watched a handful of attempted uprisings pass him by, watching many of his fellow slaves die in bloody clashes and the ensuing executions. Each time he was asked if he would participate, he would decline. These decisions would cost him many companions among both new and old slaves, but not among those who survived for the same reasons he did.
Whispers of the planning of an uprising began circulating once again in Platinum’s sixty-ninth season of slavery. Rations were cut in half for all, and within a few weeks, Platinum was asked to participate again. His response was the usual “Ney,” and after this, he was left alone. At least for a season and change, that is.
In his seventy-second season of slavery, Platinum was approached by a group of mostly older slaves. When they told of him the coming uprising and asked him to participate, he was taken aback and annoyed. These were wise men, men who had understood the fruitlessness of such things. They pleaded with him, and motioned to the lone younger man who had stood quietly in the back. Platinum had never recognized this slave before, nor could remember his name. The younger man introduced himself as Jarl, smiled, and tossed Platinum a sack.
Firedust. There were many more, Jarl explained – more than enough to start a fire in the kitchen where he labored. Platinum scoffed. But the more Jarl spoke, the more Platinum seemed to become… entranced. Within ten minutes, Jarl had Platinum grumbling and admitting the plan seemed near-foolproof, but could not secure the man’s participation.
And then the day came. The hoarse call of “FIRE!” rang throughout Tierst’s ship as flames quickly enveloped the kitchen and its surroundings. As crewmembers began scrambling to put out the flames, the slaves sprang into action. A loose cage bar here, an overwhelmed guard there, and before the crew or Tierst had realized, they had lost word with a sizable portion of the lower decks. As the slaves burst into the upper decks, the captain was finally made aware of the situation.
Platinum remained obstinate all throughout this, despite the offers of freedom from passing slaves. It wasn’t until Jarl arrived that Platinum spoke. As the older slave scowled, Jarl smiled, filling the cage lock with firedust. With the light of a match, the lock was wreathed in flame, shattering in a swift blow from the iron cudgel Jarl seemed to have located. “Bloodeye awaits your presence,” the young man spoke before smashing Platinum’s chains. “You can sit here as the ship burns down, or you can die a free man. The choice is yours.” Without another word, Jarl disappeared into the upper decks. Platinum considered his situation and stretched. He did not think long.
The fighting on the top deck was dense and bloody. Outnumbering the crew nearly two to one, the revolting slaves pressed their numerical advantage while dying in droves. Platinum fought his way to Tierst’s cabin, to find the door barricaded. It was nothing a shoulder couldn’t stop. Bursting through the door, he found himself with a sword in his face. No matter. As Platinum strode forward, Tierst shrieked and ran the ex-slave through on this sword. Ignoring the pain, Platinum grabbed the captain by the head with both hands, tearing the man from the grip of his sword, and squeezed until the flailing body went limp. Without pause, he dragged the lifeless body out into the open air and threw it against the mast. As the calls of “CAP’S DEAD!” went out, Platinum pulled the sword from his gut and collapsed.
When Platinum finally woke, Tierst’s ship was officially under slave control. After much discussion, the slaves themselves had formed a horizontal hierarchy of control on the ship. Each and every slave was free to leave at any time, but so long as anyone remained on board, the worked hours equal to the next man. Rowing duties were shared among all, and there seemed to be no official leadership positions. Votes were taken for all major decisions – the choice to exile former crew members on makeshift rafts in place of mass execution, for example, or the choice to leave non-participating slaves at the nearest port in place of exile or execution. Even a name for the ship had been chosen – Grey Blood on the Horizon, homage to dire straits and murky futures the ex-slaves had once held. The ship remained en route to deliver Tierst’s cargo to Solid Shell in the Neck, and once there, a general meeting would be held to discuss what would be done next.
Platinum has stayed with Grey Blood on the Horizon and the Greybloods, the name the crew acquired as their recognition grew, since. His murder of Tierst earned him respect among the ex-slaves, and his efforts since have brought him to a position of great political power, his words holding much sway. While the crew has changed composition several times over the past thirty-some-odd years, its core of roughly twenty five members has remained the same. During this time, the vessel’s purpose has been nearly as mercurial as the crew composition itself. The Greybloods regularly engage in smuggling and legal transport, as Tierst and his crew before them, but have increasingly become involved in pirating over the years, most notably within the last decade in several high-profile raids on slaving vessels.
One such nighttime raid at the Coral port of Dawn earned Platinum his moniker “The Jackal of Dawn,” during which his idea of hopping ships, as well as employing disguises and flag manipulation, lead to the release of more than five hundred slaves. Such daring actions have earned Platinum and the other crewmembers the enmity of the Guild and powerful plutocrats in Coral. The bounties placed on their heads since have considerably increased their profile, but not in a profitable manner. One of the most recent encounters with several privateer vessels changed the future of the Greybloods forever.
No less than five days into a drug run from Newstone to Equinox, a watchman spotted two ships trailing Grey Blood on the Horizon. Within two days, the ships had caught up to the Greybloods, and a third had encircled them. Facing boarding action, Platinum issued a call for parley. As the privateer crews surrounding him cackled, Platinum boiled. He called for parley once more, this time a demand. The privateers cackled still, and a captain issued a rebuttal. “On whose grounds do ye request parley? Ye’ve got no captain!”
Platinum raged. With a loud grunt, he grabbed a spare anchor from the deck, hoisting it over his now-glowing forehead in both hands. “BY THE WILL OF THE GODS, I DEMAND PARLEY!” he roared, hurling the anchor at the midmast of the captain’s ship, tearing the six-foot wide timber in two. His body wreathed in gold and silver fire, Platinum watched as the men on all vessels around him cowered.
more to come!
Sarky
Drunken master
That is a big fuckin' moustache. Who told you my weak spot?
Val Hallen
Viking God of Rock
Eiichiro Oda.Sarky said:
Cirno
Sleepwalking Fairy
My manliness feels threatened by that mustache. I must pack more into my backstory.
saganite
Two Thousand Club
So I heard you like moustaches...
Sarky
Drunken master
If anyone's looking to apply, you've got a couple of hours at most. SARKY IS AN IMPATIENT AND CAPRICIOUS BEING
Tabby
Derpsichord
Cirno
Sleepwalking Fairy
Yipes. Backstory updated + Mentor. Prettier picture sadly not going to be in time (he didn't have a mustache anyways).
saganite
Two Thousand Club
Eep! I passed out last night in the middle of writing. I'm just about done with work for the day, I'll put the rest up when I get home.
HAIL SARKY, GLORIOUSLY PATIENT BENEFACTOR.
HAIL SARKY, GLORIOUSLY PATIENT BENEFACTOR.
Sarky
Drunken master
More like pathetically anti-narcoleptic shell of what used to be a human being. I am heading to bed before a long trip tomorrow that I should have taken today if I'd been able to function after an hour or two of sleep in the last 2-3 days. I'll try and get online within the next 18-ish hours to sort this out and get things rolling.
saganite
Two Thousand Club
Wow Cirno, nice artwork! I really dig the perspective and the "NOT A SINGLE FUCK WAS GIVEN" look on Tiruputra's face. I fear the moustache may not be enough to overcome that sheer win... D:
Cirno
Sleepwalking Fairy
Haha, thanks.saganite said:
Platinum's described mustache made me grin though. Hope to see more of his backstory!
saganite
Two Thousand Club
Sorry, it's been a while since I've done one of these. Why do I always have to make these so long... 
EDIT: And there's the Exaltation, finally. I've got a bit more I can put up for what happens after that (a pretty decent amount, actually...), but for now I think that's suitable.
EDIT: And there's the Exaltation, finally. I've got a bit more I can put up for what happens after that (a pretty decent amount, actually...), but for now I think that's suitable.
Sarky
Drunken master
Bollocks. You lot would have to go and make this difficult with excellent characters, wouldn't you? I may have to flip a coin.
Tabby
Derpsichord
Take both!
Sarky
Drunken master
I... Huh. I really should have thought of that. Blame the bus service switching to non-stop without telling anyone, forcing me to travel right to the end so I could get another bloody bus back to the point I was supposed to be able to get out at. This has been a long fuckin' day.
Sarky
Drunken master
Uh, yeah, in case I wasn't clear there (honestly, I can't tell myself at this stage), then I'm happy to welcome cirno and saganite on board. Pop your characters up in the relevant forum, introduce yourselves, chat about bacon in the OOC thread, whatever.
Tabby
Derpsichord
FUCK
BUSES
holy shit I'm so glad I haven't had to use them in years, when I did it was just a neverending horror story of fellow passengers, bus drivers, and OHAI WE'RE GOING TO SWITCH ROUTES AT RANDOM TIMES WHILE YOU'RE STILL IN THE BUS WITHOUT TELLING YOU
that was a really awkward unplanned visit to the local naval base without ID on me
BUSES
holy shit I'm so glad I haven't had to use them in years, when I did it was just a neverending horror story of fellow passengers, bus drivers, and OHAI WE'RE GOING TO SWITCH ROUTES AT RANDOM TIMES WHILE YOU'RE STILL IN THE BUS WITHOUT TELLING YOU
that was a really awkward unplanned visit to the local naval base without ID on me
Cirno
Sleepwalking Fairy
We appeased the capricious one together! *sway*
@Tabby xD Oh wow. That sounds awesome but in a scary way.
@Tabby xD Oh wow. That sounds awesome but in a scary way.
Tabby
Derpsichord
>>sway
Sarky
Drunken master
I love stories like that. I know a guy that was arrested in some European country for getting drunk on a ferry and throwing a few deckchairs overboard. He was eventually prosecuted with "piracy on the high seas".
saganite
Two Thousand Club
Hooray! I am so excite! Thanks Sarky!
