Fus ro dah
Lorekeeper
(For IC Cloud Peril posts ONLY.)
[Race For The Queen's Juniper] Chapter 1, Cloud Peril
- Thread starter Fus ro dah
- Start date
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
Jackson Filcherly
Jackson lounged lazily on the deck of the Cloudcutter, his hammock slung above-decks for a change. He rocked in it back and forth, enjoying a quiet afternoon, most of the crew ha left to go into town, Carren being tha largest city on the continent,possibly the world. It had too many people for his tastes, he much preferred the sea breeze and salty water. So, he had volunteered to stay behind on the ship, and he had just finished up re-tuning and adjusting the steering mechanism which had needed a calibration badly. Their last voyage had been pretty hard on the ship. But, of course, it was not anything he couldn't handle, he was Jackson T. Filcherly, Master Carpenter and Engineer!
He was fiddling with a contraption in his hand, some mess of gears and metal pieces to keep his hands busy. It was useless, of course, nothing more than bits of scrap thrown and bolted together for his own amusement. "Jackie boy," he said aloud to himself, "Ya really have t' find yourself A suitable woman to keep occupied, or this boredom's bound ta kill ya one o' these days." There were quite a few attractive women on board, most available and all around his age. But, there was a reason for that; he wasn't quite sure how Capt'n Novena's mathematical mind would process a man's courtship. The boatswain, Lilith, well, the only way she tended to speak to him was at volume and an angry tone about his latest "shenanigans". On the other hand, Meredith, the surgeon, she was a young lass, but she tended to joke around with Jackson, often giving him ideas for his next stunt, whether she realized it or not. Last, but certainly not least, Aya, the musician, she was a rough-and-tumble pirate maid, her spunk was almost a match for Jackson's own high spirits, she and he got along rather well, he thought.
He was roused from his day-dreaming by a sudden snap and a piece of metal breaking off into his hand. "Ah, cursed wind take it, I don' even have th' parts to put it t'gether again. What a piece o' whale blubber this thing is." He sighed, he had been hoping to avoid going into the big city, but this realization that he was running low on some supplies would come back to bite him if he just let it go. "Be'er get this done 'n over with."
Walking down the plank and over a few streets into the main city square, he was immediately bombarded by hordes of shopkeepers thrusting their wares into his view, street-side performers waving hats and tin cups in his face for a coin or two. He dislikes being crowded, he attributed this to his "free spirit". Across the plaza, he saw a few familiar faces, though he couldn't name all of them. A few he knew, Ladan for one, pinching pockets of coins and valuables. If he tried to catch anything out of Jackson, he'd only find a handful of razor-sharp blades, the reason he never strolled along with his hands in his pockets. He noticed his captain and the boatswain in a tavern, but the Aetherblade's own happened to be there as well, so he thought it eat to avoid a confrontation, at least for the time being, and continued on down the street. A hardware supply building caught his eye, and he entered, suddenly immersed in a world of every gadget and piece of engineering equipment he could imagine.
An hour later, he left with an armful of tools and supplies, nails, screws, bolts, a few pieces of lumber strapped onto his back, a handsaw, and other various knick-knacks. It took him almost twice as long to get back to the ship as it had taken to get from there, mostly because he kept dropping a nail or a piece of wood slid off his back, and he would have to stop and readjust his load. He finally made it aboard, and not seeing anyone about the decks yet, he scurried down to his room/workshop, and unloaded his prizes. "That should keep us in d'mand fer a little while, won' it, Oakbane?" He looked to his saw-sword, a weapon, yes, but also his must trusty tool, and he treated it as if it was a separate member of the crew. "Now, I may as well make me self busy down here until the Cap'n or sommat else needs me services up-decks."
Jackson lounged lazily on the deck of the Cloudcutter, his hammock slung above-decks for a change. He rocked in it back and forth, enjoying a quiet afternoon, most of the crew ha left to go into town, Carren being tha largest city on the continent,possibly the world. It had too many people for his tastes, he much preferred the sea breeze and salty water. So, he had volunteered to stay behind on the ship, and he had just finished up re-tuning and adjusting the steering mechanism which had needed a calibration badly. Their last voyage had been pretty hard on the ship. But, of course, it was not anything he couldn't handle, he was Jackson T. Filcherly, Master Carpenter and Engineer!
He was fiddling with a contraption in his hand, some mess of gears and metal pieces to keep his hands busy. It was useless, of course, nothing more than bits of scrap thrown and bolted together for his own amusement. "Jackie boy," he said aloud to himself, "Ya really have t' find yourself A suitable woman to keep occupied, or this boredom's bound ta kill ya one o' these days." There were quite a few attractive women on board, most available and all around his age. But, there was a reason for that; he wasn't quite sure how Capt'n Novena's mathematical mind would process a man's courtship. The boatswain, Lilith, well, the only way she tended to speak to him was at volume and an angry tone about his latest "shenanigans". On the other hand, Meredith, the surgeon, she was a young lass, but she tended to joke around with Jackson, often giving him ideas for his next stunt, whether she realized it or not. Last, but certainly not least, Aya, the musician, she was a rough-and-tumble pirate maid, her spunk was almost a match for Jackson's own high spirits, she and he got along rather well, he thought.
He was roused from his day-dreaming by a sudden snap and a piece of metal breaking off into his hand. "Ah, cursed wind take it, I don' even have th' parts to put it t'gether again. What a piece o' whale blubber this thing is." He sighed, he had been hoping to avoid going into the big city, but this realization that he was running low on some supplies would come back to bite him if he just let it go. "Be'er get this done 'n over with."
Walking down the plank and over a few streets into the main city square, he was immediately bombarded by hordes of shopkeepers thrusting their wares into his view, street-side performers waving hats and tin cups in his face for a coin or two. He dislikes being crowded, he attributed this to his "free spirit". Across the plaza, he saw a few familiar faces, though he couldn't name all of them. A few he knew, Ladan for one, pinching pockets of coins and valuables. If he tried to catch anything out of Jackson, he'd only find a handful of razor-sharp blades, the reason he never strolled along with his hands in his pockets. He noticed his captain and the boatswain in a tavern, but the Aetherblade's own happened to be there as well, so he thought it eat to avoid a confrontation, at least for the time being, and continued on down the street. A hardware supply building caught his eye, and he entered, suddenly immersed in a world of every gadget and piece of engineering equipment he could imagine.
An hour later, he left with an armful of tools and supplies, nails, screws, bolts, a few pieces of lumber strapped onto his back, a handsaw, and other various knick-knacks. It took him almost twice as long to get back to the ship as it had taken to get from there, mostly because he kept dropping a nail or a piece of wood slid off his back, and he would have to stop and readjust his load. He finally made it aboard, and not seeing anyone about the decks yet, he scurried down to his room/workshop, and unloaded his prizes. "That should keep us in d'mand fer a little while, won' it, Oakbane?" He looked to his saw-sword, a weapon, yes, but also his must trusty tool, and he treated it as if it was a separate member of the crew. "Now, I may as well make me self busy down here until the Cap'n or sommat else needs me services up-decks."
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Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
Conner down in a ships replacement of a kitchen, making sure everything was in order. Perhaps he should make something special for the crew, they just went through a lot after all. But what to make with what he had.
firejay1
The Phoenix Queen
Barbarossa sat on the side of the ship, watching the busy dock with his cold, dark eyes. He was dressed as a man, this time, with no desire whatsoever to join the rabble as they made their way into the rest of civilization. The bobbing of the ship was a comfort to him. He hadn't placed foot on land for many a year, nor did he plan to start now. He only had bad memories of the solid ground others were so attached to, and he wasn't about to relive them now, fearless pirate or not.
Holding his chakram in his hand, he traced its edge along the side of the deck, careful not to leave a scratch. All the while, he took in everything - every petty detail about every petty landlubber and sailor wandering around the dock. Sadly enough, he knew it would all be ingrained unshakably into his memory, but it was better to look, instead of having to remember a bunch of disjointed conversations every time he looked at the deck of his beloved ship. So he watched, and amused himself by categorizing the people into three levels: sailors, travelers/tourists, and shopkeepers.
Whistling to himself an old tune his dead sister had once made up, he let the wind carry his breath away and waited for the stop to be over, so they could finally set sail again. Always on he move. That was the way he needed to be: always on the move. That way, he never had to feel tied down by the land and his past, could always feel like he would one day find the only person who had ever loved him.
Holding his chakram in his hand, he traced its edge along the side of the deck, careful not to leave a scratch. All the while, he took in everything - every petty detail about every petty landlubber and sailor wandering around the dock. Sadly enough, he knew it would all be ingrained unshakably into his memory, but it was better to look, instead of having to remember a bunch of disjointed conversations every time he looked at the deck of his beloved ship. So he watched, and amused himself by categorizing the people into three levels: sailors, travelers/tourists, and shopkeepers.
Whistling to himself an old tune his dead sister had once made up, he let the wind carry his breath away and waited for the stop to be over, so they could finally set sail again. Always on he move. That was the way he needed to be: always on the move. That way, he never had to feel tied down by the land and his past, could always feel like he would one day find the only person who had ever loved him.
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
"Oi! You lads up for something special tonight?" Conner said as he poked his head above deck. He couldn't make up his mind. They were at a port, so he could get what he needed. But that might put a dent in the coffers. Either way though, he was going to get something to brew up in his distillery.
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
Hearing a snatch of a whistle, Jackson closed his eyes, trying to identify the tune. It was familiar, he had heard it before, but it had no words, no name. "Ah, it must be Barb, I a'most forgot that 'e never leaves ship. Poor sop, 'e don't know what he's mission' out on." He put down his tinkering, wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead with the back of a hand, and started to head up to the decks again. They would be casting off shortly, he hoped, and he didn't want to be stuck below when the good captain came a-bellowing his name and calling him all kinds of incomprehensible mathematical equations. If I wasn't practically soul-bound to this crew, I might'a considered skipping out a while ago. But, I've really got no mind to leave, anyway. Pay's good, and the rum's better.
He was about to march up the stairs, but his way was blocked by Conner, his small and wide frame blocking the exit portal quite completely. Jackson decided to have a little fun with him, pulling out of his jacket the contraption he had been working on. It almost resembled a mechanical hand, though it only had three "fingers", two of them in from and one in back. He pulled a tiny key from another pocket, an outside pocket this time, carefully avoiding the usual razor blades. It fit into the back of the device, and he wound it a few times, slowly in order to avoid the usual -click- that comes with each turn of the handle. It sputtered to life, and he set it on a step, and watched it pulled itself along up the stairs, and eventually up the back of Conner's pants-leg. It had tiny claws, not enough to do any harm, but enough to hook onto the cloth to keep it steady. Jackson had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling aloud as it made its way up the cook's back, still unnoticed, and he finally bust out into a loud and raucous laugh as it reached his head and began to tap on the back of it, not being able to find anything to grip, but not "intelligent" enough to know that it could go any direction except straight.
@Beowulf
He was about to march up the stairs, but his way was blocked by Conner, his small and wide frame blocking the exit portal quite completely. Jackson decided to have a little fun with him, pulling out of his jacket the contraption he had been working on. It almost resembled a mechanical hand, though it only had three "fingers", two of them in from and one in back. He pulled a tiny key from another pocket, an outside pocket this time, carefully avoiding the usual razor blades. It fit into the back of the device, and he wound it a few times, slowly in order to avoid the usual -click- that comes with each turn of the handle. It sputtered to life, and he set it on a step, and watched it pulled itself along up the stairs, and eventually up the back of Conner's pants-leg. It had tiny claws, not enough to do any harm, but enough to hook onto the cloth to keep it steady. Jackson had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling aloud as it made its way up the cook's back, still unnoticed, and he finally bust out into a loud and raucous laugh as it reached his head and began to tap on the back of it, not being able to find anything to grip, but not "intelligent" enough to know that it could go any direction except straight.
@Beowulf
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
Feeling something climbing up his back, he thinks nothing of it and tried to shrug it off. But as soon as it started to tap the back of his head, he nearly jumped the rest of the way out. Reaching around to the back of his head, he grabBed Jackson's contraption and brought it around to see what it was. Then he heard it's creator giggling away behind him. Throwing it back at Jackson, rather forcefully, Conner practically shouts at him, "I just asked if you lads wanted something special. But nooo. You decide to send that up my back. Fine then, eat all the hard tac you want, don't let me make anything that won't come out the other end like a brick." And with that, he pushed past the inventore. But he could realize a good joke when he saw one, and muttered as he past Jackson, "Good joke, but try not to make a habit of it."
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
Jackson dodged the thrown device, but as he ducked, his hand shot up and caught it. As the cook went by, he gave a mock salute to him, his right arm stretched all the way over to the left side and gave a backwards-looking hand-to-forehead gesture, "Aye aye, ser." He then held out the contraption that had just accosted their fine chef, "It was meant for you anyways, Con, this l'il bugger slices some fine potatoes with the turn of the key, and I'm sure I can find some uses for it, 'ventually. But, for now, you keep it, maybe it'll save some time whipping up summat besides that scurvy-thin soup that's always on the boil in yer galley." It was a running joke on the ship that the captain's taste buds were shot, as the only thing she ever assigned to the menu was oatmeal and some vegetable-type broth, all else was left to Conner's ingenuity and creativity.
"Oh, I just 'bout forgot, I picked this up fer ya to work with in town earlier, feel free to spread it around among the lads in the next meal," he said, reaching into his inner jacket and pulling out a slab of dried beef wrapped in thin paper, big enough for cook to distribute a good-sized portion to each crew member. Jackson was notorious for keeping bits of edibles about his person, his "munchies," once even being frisked down to his socks to find enough food the feed almost the whole crew for a day. He always claimed that food helped him concentrate, which it seemed to do, as being hungry made him near-useless for anything, but a bit of real provisions or better yet, a complete and varied meal could keep him on his feet for several days. He himself helped with the stocking of said provisions, of course, often catching fish of various sizes or spending part of his share to treat the crew to a nicety for a meal every once in a while.
"The rest of the crew ought to be returnin' any time now, Con, you got any plans for supper tonight? I'm famished." Jackson accompanied these words with the appropriate motions of rubbing his stomach and giving his lips a pass with his tongue, his typical 'I'm hungry' expressionism, one seen fairly frequently, much to the dismay of Cook's larder.
@Beowulf
"Oh, I just 'bout forgot, I picked this up fer ya to work with in town earlier, feel free to spread it around among the lads in the next meal," he said, reaching into his inner jacket and pulling out a slab of dried beef wrapped in thin paper, big enough for cook to distribute a good-sized portion to each crew member. Jackson was notorious for keeping bits of edibles about his person, his "munchies," once even being frisked down to his socks to find enough food the feed almost the whole crew for a day. He always claimed that food helped him concentrate, which it seemed to do, as being hungry made him near-useless for anything, but a bit of real provisions or better yet, a complete and varied meal could keep him on his feet for several days. He himself helped with the stocking of said provisions, of course, often catching fish of various sizes or spending part of his share to treat the crew to a nicety for a meal every once in a while.
"The rest of the crew ought to be returnin' any time now, Con, you got any plans for supper tonight? I'm famished." Jackson accompanied these words with the appropriate motions of rubbing his stomach and giving his lips a pass with his tongue, his typical 'I'm hungry' expressionism, one seen fairly frequently, much to the dismay of Cook's larder.
@Beowulf
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
"That soup is what the captain gets the ingredients for. I do my best with it, but if you would rather go hungry..." He left the empty threat hang in the air before taking the contraption. "And as for that beef there, guess what your getting for lunch tomorrow? You can make a fine sandwich with this. But for dinner tonight. Hmmm, let me think." The last were a bit muffled considering the hand he put up in thought, stroking his mustache and beard.
(Of to the ship's inventory with me.)
(Of to the ship's inventory with me.)
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
Jackson, Aboard the Cloud Peril
Jackson took his leave of the ship's cook as the stout and grumbly dwarf went off to check the larder for supplies and rations, taking Jackson's beef with him, much to his chagrine. "Ah well, the ol' sea otter can make bet'er use out of it than I can, I s'pose." He made his way back to his workshop room, and tried to procure another of the little mechanical menaces he had just given the cook, but with some modifications, of course. Seeing as he had thrown the first one together from scraps and had not written down the exact components he had used in its creation, he had to start from nothing again with the second.
Jackson fiddled with this for the better part of an hour before he became frustrated with it. He pushed his chair back, one of the few to have wheels on this ship, not exactly stable in a tossing gale, but more for comfort and ease of motion than safety. For now, he slumped in it, deflated in mechanical defeat, his head lolled over the back rest and closing his eyes as he spun around a few times. As he turned around and around, his hand brushed the paper cloth that covered his table, pulling it and knocking half of his pieces to the floor. He jumped up, then crouched, trying to sweep them all together before they were lost between the cracks in the wooden floor. "Seven winds! What's th' matter with me work today? Can't fit diddly with squat, that blasted contraption is.." He stopped as his hand rested on an unusual piece that might, possibly, just maybe...
He grabbed it and held it between his teeth, then practically leapt to his feet, piling the pieces he had swept up onto the table. With the piece still separate and the contraption in hand again, he cleared a space to work. Only a moment and he had swapped the piece between his lips for a screwdriver, fitting it into the empty hollow that it slid into, oh, so nicely. He had to keep himself from skipping with delight, he had thought it wouldn't ever be complete, but now he was closer than ever.
It was at this moment that Lilith opened his door, unseen by him, so focused on his work. Her voice startled him, and he jumped to face the door, his left hand flying behind his back and his right to his forehead in a proper salute, stuttering, "A-a-Aye, Ma'am!" This was purely instinctual, but doing so had flung the device from his salute-bound hand across the room, where it broke into fragments against the wall. He winced as he heard the shatter, but did not remove himself from his salute, though his eyes slid mournfully to look in the direction of his poor mangled device, lying dead on the floor.
@Broken-Angel
@Beowulf
Jackson took his leave of the ship's cook as the stout and grumbly dwarf went off to check the larder for supplies and rations, taking Jackson's beef with him, much to his chagrine. "Ah well, the ol' sea otter can make bet'er use out of it than I can, I s'pose." He made his way back to his workshop room, and tried to procure another of the little mechanical menaces he had just given the cook, but with some modifications, of course. Seeing as he had thrown the first one together from scraps and had not written down the exact components he had used in its creation, he had to start from nothing again with the second.
Jackson fiddled with this for the better part of an hour before he became frustrated with it. He pushed his chair back, one of the few to have wheels on this ship, not exactly stable in a tossing gale, but more for comfort and ease of motion than safety. For now, he slumped in it, deflated in mechanical defeat, his head lolled over the back rest and closing his eyes as he spun around a few times. As he turned around and around, his hand brushed the paper cloth that covered his table, pulling it and knocking half of his pieces to the floor. He jumped up, then crouched, trying to sweep them all together before they were lost between the cracks in the wooden floor. "Seven winds! What's th' matter with me work today? Can't fit diddly with squat, that blasted contraption is.." He stopped as his hand rested on an unusual piece that might, possibly, just maybe...
He grabbed it and held it between his teeth, then practically leapt to his feet, piling the pieces he had swept up onto the table. With the piece still separate and the contraption in hand again, he cleared a space to work. Only a moment and he had swapped the piece between his lips for a screwdriver, fitting it into the empty hollow that it slid into, oh, so nicely. He had to keep himself from skipping with delight, he had thought it wouldn't ever be complete, but now he was closer than ever.
It was at this moment that Lilith opened his door, unseen by him, so focused on his work. Her voice startled him, and he jumped to face the door, his left hand flying behind his back and his right to his forehead in a proper salute, stuttering, "A-a-Aye, Ma'am!" This was purely instinctual, but doing so had flung the device from his salute-bound hand across the room, where it broke into fragments against the wall. He winced as he heard the shatter, but did not remove himself from his salute, though his eyes slid mournfully to look in the direction of his poor mangled device, lying dead on the floor.
@Broken-Angel
@Beowulf
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Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
"Potatoes and peas." Conner grumbled to himself. Perhaps he could make some mashed potatoes and peas. No gravy though, but salt and butter would have to do. Plus some hunks of beef would do just as good. Grabbing the necessary supplies, he returned to his workspace, the kitchen. Setting the peas and potatoes aside to be washed as well as putting the beef somewhere were he could find it. Taking out the little contraption, he gives it a look over, twisting it this way and that. Finding where Jackie boy said to wind up, he grabs it, prayed to what ever was listening, and wound it. Once he felt it was wound good enough, he set it in front of a lone potato and let it do its work as he cleaned the rest. Once that was done, he went back to it and saw that the contraption sliced up the potato nicely. 'Can't believe it worked.' he thought to himself before wiping the slices aside to wash those, not wanting to waste anything, and placed the rest in front of the contraption before winding it up. 'Mashed potatoes and peas wouldn't be to different, but the lads should enjoy the beef.' he thought to himself as he took up a big knife and gave the beef a good whack with it, beginning to cut it up to scatter in the potatoes.
Broken-Angel
~Your favorite Badass Tsundere Boom Queen~
Lilith tried to cover up another chuckle that threatened to excape from her mouth. It had seemed that she scared the lad, nearly half to death. She was about to make a comment about him being all skittish, when she heard the sound of a something hitting the wall and breaking. Lilith looked down at the little pieces and blinked. It seemed to be a toy-thing of some kind and going by the look on Jackson's face, it must have belonged to him. She wondered what he did when he would be down here, giggling like some child on it's birthday when they got that "big" gift.
Lilith walked over and picked up one of the pieces,"..so this is what you do in your spare time?". She twirled the piece around her fingers as he looked at him. After a moment, she ficked the piece at him and tunred to walk back out the door. Before she walked fully out of his room, she looked over her shoulder at him again. "Just make sure that the Cap'n don't see that Filcherly, lest she might remove your head from your shoulders". She gave him a small nod and walked out. That lad was going to get himself thrown overboard one of these days. Letting out a sigh, she turned and continued to walk to her own quarters.
Walking into her room, Lilith sat on the edge of the bed and rested her elbows on her knees. Her thoughts wandered to her past and she got dragged into it without even a second thought. It seemed like it came natural to her, and would happpen a lot sometimes when she was left to her own. That was half the reason she was glad that she became the Boatswain. Having a job like that, all her duites kept her busy and not stuck in her own head. And boy, was she kept busy. If it wasn't making sure that they had enough supplies, then it was always making sure that Jackson, stayed out of the supplies. That lad always kept Lilith on her toes and it seemed like the knew and basked in it.
Snapping back to the present time, Lilith rubbed her laid back on the bed. Looking up at the ceiling, her stomach growled lightly and she frowned. Well she didn't eat today but that wasn't nothing new. She always worried about her shipmates eating first. Besides, she was used to it. When her dad went missing, there were many a times that her mother didn't cook. Shaking her head, she stood and walked back out, heading over to Conner, the ships Cook. Lilith manuvered around his and grabbed a piece of hardtack. She looked over at him and nodded, toasting him with the piece of food in a thank you motion and walked back to her room.
Lilith walked over and picked up one of the pieces,"..so this is what you do in your spare time?". She twirled the piece around her fingers as he looked at him. After a moment, she ficked the piece at him and tunred to walk back out the door. Before she walked fully out of his room, she looked over her shoulder at him again. "Just make sure that the Cap'n don't see that Filcherly, lest she might remove your head from your shoulders". She gave him a small nod and walked out. That lad was going to get himself thrown overboard one of these days. Letting out a sigh, she turned and continued to walk to her own quarters.
Walking into her room, Lilith sat on the edge of the bed and rested her elbows on her knees. Her thoughts wandered to her past and she got dragged into it without even a second thought. It seemed like it came natural to her, and would happpen a lot sometimes when she was left to her own. That was half the reason she was glad that she became the Boatswain. Having a job like that, all her duites kept her busy and not stuck in her own head. And boy, was she kept busy. If it wasn't making sure that they had enough supplies, then it was always making sure that Jackson, stayed out of the supplies. That lad always kept Lilith on her toes and it seemed like the knew and basked in it.
Snapping back to the present time, Lilith rubbed her laid back on the bed. Looking up at the ceiling, her stomach growled lightly and she frowned. Well she didn't eat today but that wasn't nothing new. She always worried about her shipmates eating first. Besides, she was used to it. When her dad went missing, there were many a times that her mother didn't cook. Shaking her head, she stood and walked back out, heading over to Conner, the ships Cook. Lilith manuvered around his and grabbed a piece of hardtack. She looked over at him and nodded, toasting him with the piece of food in a thank you motion and walked back to her room.
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
Seeing the salute Lilith gave him, Conner nodded back. Here, this was his part of the ship. He could probably make the captain work in the kitchens for him. Well, probably, he wasn't going to risk it by asking. Well, the beef was chopped up and the little contraption was just going right through those potatoes. So, getting something much like a potato beater and a very large bowl, Conner walked over to the growing pile on the counter and scrapped them into the bowl before furiously beating them. Beside that little out burst earlier, he could swear that he was one of the calmest people on board the ship. Thanks in part to smacking inanimate objects as hard as he could.
Jin
Your Friendly Neighborhood Pariah
Leon, in the meantime, had been sitting on the starboard side of the ship, his legs dangling freely over the barricade. His face had maintained a stone-like rigidity, unchanging from the serious demeanor he assumed when in thought. Previously, he had gone to visit his parents, making sure they were safe from the surrounding environment, and even more so that they would continue to remain as such in his absence. Deep down, he knew they didn't really need his help. After all, they managed to raise Leon, himself, despite all the trouble he caused. Beside him was the remains of a meal his mother had prepared for him. "I'd better get this out of sight... not sure what Conner will think." That line of thinking didn't last long, though. His mind immediately went back to his family, but only for mere minutes before he resolved himself and turned his attention to the sky. It had been a while since Leon had accomplished his dream. Now, the sky was a normality to him. It was surreal, almost.
"I guess what happens from here... just happens," Leon thought out loud with a smirk of content. It wasn't his style to worry too much, though even he, himself, wouldn't believe that from how much thought he'd subjected himself to just now. He had even been oblivious to what was going on within the ship itself. Clearing his mind, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his red cloth and tied it, snug, around the upper half of his forehead, clearing his hair from his face.
As navigator, Leon was tasked with plotting the band's journeys... which he had just come to remember. With that in mind, he bundled up his eating utensils, flipped himself back onto the safe side of the starboard, and began making his way to his room. His intention was to rest until word of the next departure was confirmed, which is when he would jump into action. Considering the group of people he worked with, he'd hoped his short journey to his room would be an uneventful one.
"I guess what happens from here... just happens," Leon thought out loud with a smirk of content. It wasn't his style to worry too much, though even he, himself, wouldn't believe that from how much thought he'd subjected himself to just now. He had even been oblivious to what was going on within the ship itself. Clearing his mind, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his red cloth and tied it, snug, around the upper half of his forehead, clearing his hair from his face.
As navigator, Leon was tasked with plotting the band's journeys... which he had just come to remember. With that in mind, he bundled up his eating utensils, flipped himself back onto the safe side of the starboard, and began making his way to his room. His intention was to rest until word of the next departure was confirmed, which is when he would jump into action. Considering the group of people he worked with, he'd hoped his short journey to his room would be an uneventful one.
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
(Jackson Post to come soon, juggling RL and RP :3 )
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
Conner finished beating the potatoes, and took the beef shreds and sprinkled them over the potatoes before mixing them in. It wasn't a five star meal, but it was something different. Now it was on to the peas, ehich were a rather simple thing to do. Clean, and serve. Now what to drink? Alcohol of course. And they were in luck, or not, his latest concoction had finished fermenting. It was a lemon and orange blend, for some reason that made sense to him. Taking the keg of his home made ale, he walked topside and saw Leon walking off, probably to his quarters. 'Lucky git gets his own room.' Conner thought jokingly to himself, a small smile on his face. Setting the keg down, he lookes around for anyone that may steal a quick drink with out him. Satisfied that no one would, in sight at least, take some, Conner walked back below deck to bring up the rest of the food. 'They'll be in for a treat, I just know it.' he thought proudly to himself.
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
Jackson stood at attention until Lilith had left his room, but the moment she had closed the door behind her, he scurried over to his injured contraption, tenderly scraping the pieces into his palm like it was an injured bird. "Oh dear, what a purty mess I made uvit. What ta do, what ta do." He paced back and forth, holding his mechanical infant in his palm as if he could bring back to one piece with sheer willpower and desperation. His ingenuity sapped clean, he eventually set it on the work table and left the room to give his mind time to clear. Arriving updecks, he saw none about to pester for some busy-work to keep his idle hands from causing any mischief. He knew that his tendency was towards mayhem and chaos, but he really I'd try to keep it to controlled mayhem and productive chaos.
He was sitting in the rigging, watching for any of the crew's return, when Conner rolled a barrel of something onto the deck below his feet. Jackson let himself loose with his arms, looping his legs around a rung of the rope rigging, with the final effect of him hanging upsidedown several feet above Conner's head like a spider descending on a meal. The cook didn't notice him, apparently, as he was already so close to ground-level and he looked left and right, but not above. Conner's tread took him back below decks, and Jackson knew that whatever was in the barrel would be reserved for tonight's dinner, be it pickled herring, one of his favorites, or more likely one of the cook's own ship-brews. The temptation to sneak a peek always almost irresistible, but stealing rations was a serious offense, often leading to lashes with a whip if it was left unchecked. Jackson had never committed a crime so foul to deserve 'the cat o' nine', and he wasn't planning to start now and here, where an easier punishment would be to simply leave him here at the port and sail away without him.
Still, curiosity overtook him, and he crawled down the rigging in his current position like a great long-legged insect, sliding over the deck towards the barrel with almost total silence and stealth. To open it would be criminal (in a sense, more so than their pirate business carried them.), but to touch was well within his bounds. His final decision was to sit on top of the barrel, swinging his legs from side to side as he pulled out a thin, shining tin whistle from his jacket, playing a sea-faring tune until Conner reappeared and Jackson could sate his curious thirst in the honourable fashion.
@Beowulf
He was sitting in the rigging, watching for any of the crew's return, when Conner rolled a barrel of something onto the deck below his feet. Jackson let himself loose with his arms, looping his legs around a rung of the rope rigging, with the final effect of him hanging upsidedown several feet above Conner's head like a spider descending on a meal. The cook didn't notice him, apparently, as he was already so close to ground-level and he looked left and right, but not above. Conner's tread took him back below decks, and Jackson knew that whatever was in the barrel would be reserved for tonight's dinner, be it pickled herring, one of his favorites, or more likely one of the cook's own ship-brews. The temptation to sneak a peek always almost irresistible, but stealing rations was a serious offense, often leading to lashes with a whip if it was left unchecked. Jackson had never committed a crime so foul to deserve 'the cat o' nine', and he wasn't planning to start now and here, where an easier punishment would be to simply leave him here at the port and sail away without him.
Still, curiosity overtook him, and he crawled down the rigging in his current position like a great long-legged insect, sliding over the deck towards the barrel with almost total silence and stealth. To open it would be criminal (in a sense, more so than their pirate business carried them.), but to touch was well within his bounds. His final decision was to sit on top of the barrel, swinging his legs from side to side as he pulled out a thin, shining tin whistle from his jacket, playing a sea-faring tune until Conner reappeared and Jackson could sate his curious thirst in the honourable fashion.
@Beowulf
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
Conner caim back up, the bowl of mashed potatoes and beef in his arms. Some people might have laughed at the sight of the halfling carrying the oversized bowl. But most people knew what would happen if they did.
As he manuvered the deck, he saw Jackson sitting on the barrel he brought up. "Jackie boy! I hope you haven't had a look inside and a quick taste. You know what I'd have to do to you." Well, he didn't have to do it. But stealing rations he took as stealing from him, which he wouldn't have any of.
"You can have some when the bowl of peas is up here. Be a good lad and get it for me, will you? Oh, and that little contraption of yours was a big help for these. LADS, and ladies, dinner will be served shortly. Grab those that don't know and get yer plates ready. Mashed potatoes and peas." The last part he shouted loud enough for most of the crew to hear and for them to know what to grab.
As he manuvered the deck, he saw Jackson sitting on the barrel he brought up. "Jackie boy! I hope you haven't had a look inside and a quick taste. You know what I'd have to do to you." Well, he didn't have to do it. But stealing rations he took as stealing from him, which he wouldn't have any of.
"You can have some when the bowl of peas is up here. Be a good lad and get it for me, will you? Oh, and that little contraption of yours was a big help for these. LADS, and ladies, dinner will be served shortly. Grab those that don't know and get yer plates ready. Mashed potatoes and peas." The last part he shouted loud enough for most of the crew to hear and for them to know what to grab.
Jin
Your Friendly Neighborhood Pariah
Leon waltzed into his room, closing his door behind him. Unfortunately, he'd heard nothing about the coming journey yet, so his job remained stagnant. He needed to find something to do, and he believed he knew exactly what that would be. He grabbed his sword and coral bow and immediately fled his room, running back to the starboard side of the ship. Once he'd found the amount of space he desired, he unsheathed his blade and began to practice his form. With every swipe and thrust, he became more and more distracted by memories. It was uncharacteristic, aside from being a bad omen. He legitimately had no reason to believe it, but he had a bad feeling about the immediate future. The feeling of uneasiness eventually grew to be too much, causing him to stop and return to the spot he originally seated himself before. As he looked overboard, he could not help but ask himself, "What is this feeling? Surely, I'm overthinking."
Leon snapped himself out of it, and took a deep breath, attributing his newfound nervousness to fatigue. He learned against the barricade and closed his eyes, becoming lost in his surroundings yet again.
Leon snapped himself out of it, and took a deep breath, attributing his newfound nervousness to fatigue. He learned against the barricade and closed his eyes, becoming lost in his surroundings yet again.
Meredith
of Fiendish Intent
Meredith looked up as the other ship's captain was dragged away. She swore, taking the bag of supplies she'd gathered and walking away with them. The merchant didn't notice. She carefully made her way back to her ship, boarding and going to find the cook. Opening the door to his space, she leant against the doorframe, waiting for him to look up.
"The captain of the Aetherblades has been detained. Tell anyone you see, will you? I don't want to lose a crew member to those idiots. And christ, tell them to be careful." She said firmly, looking towards him.
@Beowulf
"The captain of the Aetherblades has been detained. Tell anyone you see, will you? I don't want to lose a crew member to those idiots. And christ, tell them to be careful." She said firmly, looking towards him.
@Beowulf
MrLeighKemp
New Member
Sheeyk flung herself at Zan. He almost dismissed the pat on his back as an agressive gust of wind, until he heard her speak. She was full of boundless energy, which was important for a young hunter. Zan, though, was keen to teach her about surpressing her natural fountain of energetic youth and calm her mind.
“We fly, Little Fae. We should be eating soon. San thinks the little cook man will be ready, I smell potatoes.” Zan said smiling at his little friend. “You must stash your apples, Little Fae. These men speak fast and their words might trick...” Zan did not distrust these men, but with cultural differences it is always better to be reserved and observe. Zan had been involved in altercations in other places when Zan had agreed to something he had not fully understood or offended the wrong person. “You head to your sleep place. Return with our plates. I shall...” Zan searched for the word “...ask about potatoes.”
He had an urge to ruffle her hair or softly touch her arm. He fought the urge and continued smiling and nodded at the halfling. They were now walking along the long plank between the land and the ship and Zan’s entire conversation with Sheeyk was pushed out of his mind. His eyes widened and his heartbeat, normally kept in check, was beating faster than if he was being chased by a herd of Marsh beasts.
”Man is not meant to fly.” He said quietly, knowing Sheeyk probably had sensed his fear.
@Yziel
“We fly, Little Fae. We should be eating soon. San thinks the little cook man will be ready, I smell potatoes.” Zan said smiling at his little friend. “You must stash your apples, Little Fae. These men speak fast and their words might trick...” Zan did not distrust these men, but with cultural differences it is always better to be reserved and observe. Zan had been involved in altercations in other places when Zan had agreed to something he had not fully understood or offended the wrong person. “You head to your sleep place. Return with our plates. I shall...” Zan searched for the word “...ask about potatoes.”
He had an urge to ruffle her hair or softly touch her arm. He fought the urge and continued smiling and nodded at the halfling. They were now walking along the long plank between the land and the ship and Zan’s entire conversation with Sheeyk was pushed out of his mind. His eyes widened and his heartbeat, normally kept in check, was beating faster than if he was being chased by a herd of Marsh beasts.
”Man is not meant to fly.” He said quietly, knowing Sheeyk probably had sensed his fear.
@Yziel
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
"I will tell them when they I serve them. But it's more of the captains job, don't you think?" Conner replied. He had gotten bis serving spoon, which was also his scepter, and was ready to dish out the mashed potatoes with beef bits and peas to the first person that came with a plate. "Tell the ones that aren't comin' that food's ready."
Yziel
Robot in disguise
Sheeyk almost had to run to keep up with her giant friend as they boarded the ship. The talk of food made her ears twitch and gave her fuzzy feelings inside. Zan was anxious about flying , he always was. "Man is not supposed to eat potatoes this often..." she grumbled in reply.
With quick feet she ran off to get their bowls. Her sleeping place basically consisted of a hammock and a footlocker. She quickly got it open and hid away her apples and retrieved the bowls, they were mostly clean. She then made her way to the mess. She was hungry, potatoes or no.
With quick feet she ran off to get their bowls. Her sleeping place basically consisted of a hammock and a footlocker. She quickly got it open and hid away her apples and retrieved the bowls, they were mostly clean. She then made her way to the mess. She was hungry, potatoes or no.
Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
"Surprised people didn't come sooner." Conner said as he saw Zan and her friends come up. "Eat up, put a little something extra in there curtisy of Jacky boy over there. Some delicious beef chunks. And here are some peas to. When you're done, I got a nice batch waiting to be tested." At the last part, he patted the barrel of his home made brew affectionatly.