Fantasy ~The Hexosphere Chronicles~

[SkyGinge]

There is an ancient tale that runs rampant through our people, like some kind of infection spreading across the fields, or perhaps an ink splot making its blackening trail across a strip of parchment. With this new 'science' that certain officials have begun to preach, it is easy for one to forget that for centuries, this story was considered a factual account of the creation of our world. Everybody has heard of it: from the smallest of babes to the elderly war veterans on their restoration islands, each and every tongue of every fellow Surfacer can spurn the timely tale. Its comprehension is almost genetic.


The tale states that in the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but a barren plain, stretching out into all eternity. And then, forming out of this nothingness, there came six titans, six spiritual deities created in the form of an element. In an explosion of screaming flames came Irrea, spirit of fire; liquid bonded together to make the watery flesh of Licia; a vacuum of wind shaped Vequa, titan of wind; rocks, sands, dirt, dust, physical atrocities swirled and twisted together, melding the earthen form of Teztra. Light flashed forth to create the body of Blistus, and to counteract perpetual blinding, the being of darkness, Aekrius, was formed.

Together the six titans existed in perfect harmony, never questioning their quaint existence, up there, all alone in the stars: they found perfect solitude in their bizarre seclusion.


But even the Gods are not exempt from the perpetual violence that has infested our lands, and some unexplainable atrocity turned the titans against themselves. Light and dark clashed together; elements crashed and whizzed and splashed and flared against each other, the entire universe now a chaotic battlefield. Until finally, all six titans simultaneously clashed. There came a sudden deadlock, as their bodies began to combine and swirl: now their fighting days were over, and they now found themselves as pawns in some greater creation scheme.


Trapped within themselves, their bodies intermingled, their precious elemental formations crumbling and swirling together. Beautiful chaos, wonderful death: for in the titans demise, our world found its formation.


When the fanfare of silent finality rang, there was left a sphere of six seas. Above, a sea of light so bright it brings forth the morning and the day, deep below, a sea of darkness, darkness so strong it fights off the light to bring night-time. And in the middle, four interlocking regions: a sea of fire, a sea of clouds, a sea of sand and a sea of water. All separated by the thin veins of oblivion. In the void that once was Vequa's body, fire and water had cancelled each-other out, leaving only the shredded earthen mesh of Teztra's corpse to be crudely distrubuted across the seismic oceans, forming the islands and landmasses that we inhabit in this day and age. Life: the titans' final gift, and then they faded away.


Don't know about you, but that sounds a hell-of-a lot more exciting than this tedius 'science' nonsense.


Bunch of unimaginative cretins...


The Hexosphere has been in a perpetual state of war for as long as records show. But then, 24 years ago, a group called The White Guardians managed to unify all nations. Now there is unfamiliar peace, but over the past decade there has been growing unrest. The government are notoriously harsh against all crime: even the smallest of legal discrepancies can hand you a harsh sentence. Magician's institutes claim up those lucky few capable of magic and train them for their own safety and future. Yet amongst the poor, there are many such trouble-makers: pirates, bounty hunters, assassins, thieves, fighting magicians, an entire plethora of rogues who dare to stand up to the government's oppressions. And yet mysterious, not a single prison's whereabouts are known...


The Kael festival of unity: a famous Vequan celebration for the anniversary of world peace. There are markets, stalls, events, all festivities, and people of all different races from all over the world head there to buy, sell and enjoy themselves. Yet this year, a series of dramatic events will unfold, to criminal, magician and every-day folk alike. A chain of discoveries that will change the lives of those caught up in its wake.


With the fate of an entire planet to fall at your hands, and terrible secrets to unveil, will you join the adventure?





~About this RP~


The Hexosphere Chronicles is an original and dynamic RP that crosses a multitude of genres. Most prolifically, it is a fantasy RP, due to the inclusion of fantasy races, magic, the fantastical setting and a storyline with many fantasy elements. But in addition it also has both elements of steam-punk and dystopia. The plot will provide an interesting mix between both character-driven interactions, and combat. Thus, there's a lot of diversity to be had, and there's enough hear to cater for many different interests and the like!


Although there will be an integral plot direction that I will always push and guide towards, subplots will be highly encouraged. Naturally, with such a large world to explore, I need most people together in the same place to ensure that people can interact and don't get overwhelmed by freedom, but I love and appreciate any ideas you guys can provide. Thus, The Hexosphere Chronicles will be both linear and freeform.


Our goal will be to construct an interesting, fun and in depth writing community full of character-driven action and adventure. If you don't think you can manage that, then this RP probably isn't for you. Similarly, there will be some quite dark plot points involved, and some potentially more mature themes, just to warn y'all!

 

[SkyGinge]

A dark dank path through a tunnel of faded, crumbling stone. The temple's ancient wrinkled veins, hidden beneath its inconspicuous surface. Grimy water seeped through the foundations on the side, leaving each wall with a slimy sheen. Everything in here was grey-scale, faded, like an archaic portrait painted long ago. Drip, drop. And then nothing: a tense, musky silence, the kind of silence that begs not to be undisturbed.





His brisk, heavy footsteps echo guiltily down the sun-deprived corridors, a determined pace in his stride. Spiders clinging to giant, sticky webs glare at him as he rips through their untouched homes. Each and every step unearths a little more dust, a series of small clouds left behind him in his wake. His eyes are cautious blue flames, tingling in uproarious anticipation.





He must control himself. True, he's trespassing on alien ground, relishing the guilty rush that comes from exploring lost landmarks, untouched creations. But he has a mission now; unlike his other exploits, there is far more at stake now that just his own adrenaline. He has to find it, if it is here and if it does exist, and he must make sure that they don't.





He feels like a dead man wandering through a coffin labyrinth: this place hasn't seen life in generations.





After what seems like a lifetime, he reaches a titanic chamber, and steadies himself. It is almost as spacious as a Peacemaker Skyship – he suddenly feels like an ant amid its dusty tunnels. It was evidently a grand place once, but history has ungracefully robbed it of its grandeur: the rows of pillars chipped and tarnished; huge panels of marble faded and snapped; the huge tapestries that adorn each wall now nothing less than faded canvas'. History had a knack of doing that, he thought. So he hoped he didn't suffer the same fate for what he was about to do.





Setting down his lamp on the ground on front of him, he watches the shadows flee in terror. But unlike the gloomy catacombs, here there was a dim ambient glow. He followed the light to its source, and a half-sigh escaped his mouth. At the far side of the room, what looked to be a shard of gemstone mirror acted as this light provided. Slowly, tentatively, he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and approached. It was embedded, melded into the rugged rock, a rock stained an unnatural black. Blood, he presumed, the last life of the place.





Well, there was no mistaking things now. What had to be done actually had to be done. Swinging his pack off of his broad shoulders, he swiftly scoured through. It wouldn't be long now.





At least I'll go out with a bang, he thought.


~~





“Hey, mister?”


Mister?! A distasteful glint flitted across his eyes as a piggish voice abruptly smashed him out of the world of the book he had buried himself in, and back into the reality of the dim, cosy library. Like the eyes of a reptile, they flicked callously onto the speaker, but abruptly lost their edge when he saw who it was. A girl of about six years old, clad in a loose peach dress, golden hair in two long plaits that hung like climbing ropes down the side of her round, moon face. Snapping his book shut, he placed it delicately atop his desk, and lazily regarded the girl.


“Miss?” he imitated with a raised eyebrow. But there was a certain charm about him now, and in his almost melodramatic expression of incredulity, he came off as playful, bashful, friendly despite his cynicism. Any reptilian likeness had faded: he was now more likely some giant wildebeest freshly awoken from hibernation.


“Would you please find us the book please?” she beamed back at him, her face pale as the first light at sunrise. “The book-book.”


“Could you, by chance, mean the book of myths?” the librarian asked, already rising to his feet, extending to his ridiculous height like a ladder being hoisted up the side of a Skyship. The girl nodded enthusiastically, and he half-sighed, as if it were some frustrating chore and not his standard job, as if it would be tough work, as if he resented every minute of it.


But the truth of it was, Apos had fully embraced finding offence in everything possible. In the past, he had worn his cynicism as a mask, hiding his more uncertain self behind it. But ever since the pirate incident, it was as if the mask had been welded to him, moulded onto him, now a part of his being.


Yet, he knew he had a real soft spot for children: the light from their beaming, fearless burnt through his mask of cynicism. It was the eyes, he thought; great blue pearls amid a gleaming pale shell. Like miniature innocent voids, they made him think of her. She would probably be their age now. In the flickering candlelight, he could almost imagine a ghostly form skipping alongside his companion. But never the face: it was too much to imagine, the speculative nature of it all made the illusion fall through.


The library was candlelit: intelligently, the head librarian kept the books out of direct sunlight to avoid fading. After all, it wouldn't do to lose the information they contained. Apos was thankful for that; he would stress himself to death working under an incompetent buffoon. The maze of bookcases, a warm chestnut brown embedded into the archaic greys of the castle foundations, was soothing, tranquil and, most importantly safe.


That was, until they reached their destination. A gaggle of similar children eyed him with puppy eyes, but behind them, books lay strewn out as if a cannon shell had erupted around them.


"For the love of the titans, what have you done?" he exclaimed, immediately striding over to retrieve the books. His long arms loomed down and grabbed them up, slotting them rapidly back to their homes in a whirlwind of awkward precision. When, finally, he was done, he exhaled and picked out the correct book from the top shelf. It was a crimson covered, retro text with a font that was all swirls and trills and artistic flicks.


"Well, sit yourselves down then," he ordered, and they did so. With a flick of his eyebrows, he slammed open the first page and quickly scanned through. "Just to point out, there's a lot of tricky words in this. That's what clever people like to do, you see, use all sorts of clever words that other people don't normally use. It makes them feel powerful and stuff, but it's all a bit silly. You can tell a good story just as well without the need to flounce your intelligent."


There were a few giggles among them, and he felt himself smiling along sadly. Would she have been like those kids? No, he had to stop. Normally he could be disciplined in rationing his sentiment. Damned kids. They always thrust him back into the fire of the past.


But at least he was safe now; after all, that was why he became a librarian after all. He cast his eyes to the dulled window, out across the town. He could almost hear their excitable buzz from here, the thrill of the Kael festival of full swing. An enjoyable excitement, as opposed to the outlawed violence so many seemed to revel in. Yes; this was where he belonged. In the familiar labyrinth of bookcases, the quiet realm of omnipresent peace.


Raising a contented glance to his humble audience, Apos began to read.


~~~~~~


There were guards intermingled in every part of the bustling markets. Their white chain-mail armour with the distinctive flag of the peacemakers: a white cross intersecting four corners of differing colours, namely red, yellow, blue and green, one for each reason. Others wore the navy Kael uniform, standing watchfully with their long spears by their sides. Like little suits of armour hung up to decorate the streets. They would make getting away with anything shifty a tricky affair.


But that was part of the thrill; if he wanted a convenient crime spot he wouldn't have chosen the location of one of the worlds biggest festivals.


With a cheerful grin, Kri'tro strolled down the crowded street, part of the stream of people who flowed freely between the multitude of market stands set up at every free point. In his tank top and baggy shorts, he knew he was flaunting himself slightly, but that was fun too: he'd noticed a group of teenage girls a little earlier giggling and blushing as he passed them. He liked the attention; it made him feel powerful.


And thus that was why he, a wanted criminal, walked through town with his hooded cloak merely slung over his broad shoulder. There'd been a sign for wanted criminals in the southern port where he had arrived, where a wall of merchant ships had set up shop, selling a range of bizarre and unique wares. But in all the excitement, he doubted anybody bar the most fervent do-gooders would bother paying it attention. Besides, he had no doubt he would be able to take on several guards and escape unscathed. Their presence didn't scare or unnerve him, rather he was constantly alert, looking for a perfect opportunity.


Soon he reached the main market square: a large, round courtyard in the centre of the city. Eight different roads converged at its cobbles, and in the centre was a huge brass statue of Antonio Patrixe, the previous noble and founding member of the Peacemakers. After all, Kael had always been one of the major Peacemaker cities. At his shining feet were a number of different tents and stalls, and a messy maze of life, people of all species and nationalities. Salesmen, fortune tellers, craftsman, there was even representatives of the local magic temple putting on a popular display of their talents, or rather rubbing it in the face of those who weren't gifted with magic, Kri'tro thought.


Perfect place for a little excitement, Kri'tro grinned, siting himself down on a bench to observe the crowds. Then, when the time was right, he would strike.


~This RP is now open to post in! Before doing so, make sure you have consulted the rules section in entirety, including the updated objectives sub-section. Thanks!~

 

[PicaPirate]

A back alley, with the festivities as a backdrop. This area shows the drab reality of the place, grey, sullen and ridden with ill-folk or simply caught at a bad time. When caught by the Crow, it is a bad time indeed.


A low, calm voice spoke with a pessimistic tone. It was rather monotone in intonation, though less from boredom and more from his strong vocal chords ringing, even when he spoke softly.


“I care not for how many you send, the outcome is inevitable. Give in now, and make my life easier.”


*Shing*


Alistair’s hand hovered over the sheathed blade, having withdrawn and sheathed the sword in a quick motion. The body of a bandit, armed with a handaxe and a fur leather coat for protection crumpled to the floor. The wound opened from the force of hitting the floor, splitting open from his shoulder to waist in a diagonal direction, the blood seeping over their now lifeless body.


A man with a mauve purple coat and jewellery backed away, his forehead sweating nervously as he looked at the ominous figure of death before him. He, John Bishop, had dealt with bandits, knights, warriors, thieves and many others for his minions to dispatch. But the Crow?! Of all people…


“You..you won’t get away with this!”


"Tch." Alistair said to the stereotypical response, as two more men came forward charging at him with their own personal weapons.


*shing shing*


Alistair sheathed the last inch of his blade and as he closed it, the two bodies fell beside each side of him, passing Alistair and slumping to the ground limp. No one actually saw the blade swing, though visually two slices of forms could be seen.


"Prepare to atone for your sins, to side favourably with those foul beasts!”


The last word was spit out with hate, as though even the mere mention of them was a blasphemy. John Bishop was hired to be killed by a rival member of society, a man known for hiring ill-folk such as demons for dirty deeds and stealing from the poor to bolster his own personal wealth.


Alistair slowly walked forward to the panicking man. He did a hand signal, which had three men ambush from hidden spots and attack Alistair, who looked to be watching intently John. Swords and daggers from armoured men rushed to Alistair and encircled him, seeing visually a situational advantage for themselves.


*shing shing shing*


The sword was withdrawn and at the end of a swing, again though only the trace of slicing and blood in the air was seen. The three, now fresh bodies, fell away to the floor.


He rested the sword on John Bishop’s neck, who had urinated himself while sitting on the floor on all fours, resting on his laurels. The man was crying for mercy, showering him with praise and possible gifts if he were left alone. Alas, the Crow shows no favour to those who side with demons.


“Your misdeeds merit no mercy. Hope that the afterlife is more forgiving than I am.”


He now swung the blade from where it rested, not withdrawing it at all for extra strength to swing with. The mans head was so cleanly cut that it still stayed on the mans neck, though blood seeped from where the cut was made, staining the collar of his plumed clothing.


Alistair flicked the blood off and sheathed his Odachi sword and walked away from the mess that was the aftermath. He blended straight into the festival crowd, leaving the mess behind for someone else to clear. Even though he wore his signature light steel armour, light so not as protective as some, he blended easily due to the cacophony that was the festival.


There was a single black feather on John Bishops corpse where Alistair had left it.


Sent from my stone tablet using Tapatalk because I used a Tardis.

 

[DamagedGlasses]

"Alright, boys, get them boxes onto th' mainland! We got a lot 'o gold callin' fer us."


Jinta called out to his crew. He nodded at the resounding affirmatives that echoed back from his crew and started walking back towards his personal quarters. Jinta listened to the hollow wooden sound that accompanied his steps and got lost in the accidental tempo that accompanied his pace. Reaching his door, Jinta pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket and inserted one of the bigger ones into the slot of the doorknob. Turning it, Jinta took satisfaction in the heavy 'clunk' sound that came with the heavy lock being turned.


Taking the key out, Jinta placed the keyring back into his pocket, and opened the door, his now empty fingers rubbing together to get used to the lack of cool metal. Walking in, not having to duck due to some adjustments, Jinta closed the door behind him and breathed in the dampness that came with the air. With the help of his personal Mage, Jinta had the whole ship magicked into giving off a natural dampness from the water it absorbed through the bottom.


It was spread throughout the whole ship, mostly in the hull, but it was significantly strong in his personal quarters. The dampness allowed him to stay on the topside of the ship a lot longer and he didn't even need to make regular trips to the ocean with his heavy source of the necessary atmosphere in his quarters. It was a rather small room, only slightly smaller than the food storage they had on board, but that was to be expected from how small the Lucky Duckling was.


It didn't bother Jinta all that much, for most of his life he had dealt with sharing one large sleeping area with about thirty men on hammocks, so anything was an improvement. the room also had a hammock hanging from the walls, but that was from Jinta's personal preference. Due to all the years of sleeping in hammock he had under his belt, Jinta could never get used to sleeping on a real bed. It just didn't feel right and he couldn't get used to how the beds messed with chafed against his fins, something the Hammocks never did.


Knowing that his crew would only take a short time to get all of their stuff out and packed onto the small wagons they had specifically for carrying goods. They usually didn't use them, but they had to dock rather far off from the actual town due to the increase in security from the Fair. Jinta had actually planned to not bring any items to sell at the town, but they had passed a small fancy ship that looked quite nice on the way here, and he couldn't keep himself from giving the order. So, now he, or more appropriately, his crew, was going to have to carry everything over the land and into the city threw the main gates.


If he really wanted to, he could just take down his pirate flag, but that was a a sin in the eyes of any good captain, and he liked to think that he was one. Now, the earlier captain would have done it in a heartbeat. Jinta's stomach lit up in anger at the thought of that man, that sleazeball who knew nothing of respect and loyalty. His favorite way to ransack towns was to take his flag down and then dock safely at the town, before ambushing the curious towns people. It had made him sick then, and it made him sick now. Shaking his head, Jinta smiled and walked over to the large wooden desk that sat in the corner of his room and sat in the thick wooden chair.


He had to specifically buy a thick chair due to all other chairs breaking before he even got comfortable, but this one let him relax as much as he wanted. The only downside of it all was the space the chair took up with the combination of his desk. He didn't have much room for anything else, except for his small chest in the last corner. It held his own personal treasure, all of it gold. His precious gold, sometimes he felt like a bird building a nest when he saw his gold. The collection was his livelihood and the proof that he had done something in his life, yet, even with how large it was, Jinta was always on the lookout for more.


Sitting down, Jinta pulled out some documents he had stolen from the fancy stuff and looked through it. While he found gold and riches more satisfying than words and information, Jinta sometimes liked to sit down and just read things that he picked up on his travels. Just kas tweek he had finished reading the diary of lady-in-waiting that had been killed by one of his men. Apparently, she had been having an affair, a very intimate one if the rather detailed paragraphs had any truth in them.


Jinta read on as the documents, now looking more like an invite, explained how they receiver was formally invited to a "grand" party the Fair was having for the upper class. Cupping his chin, Jinta wondered about how much fun that would sound. It would take some convincing for the guards to even let him in, but it might be some fun. Jinta shrugged to himself, he would think about on the trip. Standing up from his chair, Jinta walked back outside, and observed his mates carrying the goods towards the town. It may seem kind of stupid not supervising them closely, but Jinta trusted his crew not to mess up.


Striding to the front of the ship and gracefully jumping off it and landing on the ground, Jinta noticed a rather large barrel of what was most likely that fancy oil people liked to use to light their lamps with. He shook his head as he went towards it and crouched, as he knew his crew most likely left this on purpose to give him something to do.


Picking himself up, Jinta used his arms to pick the barrel up, where he repositioned it to the sole grasp of his right hand. Ignoring the weight of the barrel with the use of his strength, Jinta started his own way towards the town, where his crew was already rapidly heading towards.

 

[theunderwolf]

Sandy awoke moodily as the first rays of the sun poked their way through the inn's ground floor window. Grumbling to herself and bemoaning the fact that she was not a early bird, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her shirt from the window. After regarding it a moment and making sure it had dried properly, and then another to remember what exactly one did with shirts, she threw it on and tromped over to the silver wash basin in the corner of the room. It was a deep thing, filled with water chilled by the night air. Even better though, it had a mirror that was a little bigger than her head carefully wedged between the two adjoining walls. She looked at the mirror wondrously, it was hard to find such things outside Kael and a small vain part of her enjoyed looking at her reflection. However, vanity has its price, she groggily considered. The mirror had revealed that the night had not been friendly to her hair. After considering the fact for a moment, she looked at the basin and unceremoniously dunked her head in, and after leaving it submerged for a moment, flipped it out. Eying herself in the mirror victoriously, she shook her hair out, enjoying the fact that it was now passably straight. She didn't bask in it long though, the cold water had woken her up and she now felt the cooks busily move around the inns small kitchen, preparing breakfast for the early risers. Her earth sense didn't tell her what was cooking however, and she was voraciously hungry. After grabbing a towel she kicked her way out of the room and carefully locked the door behind her.


After waving to the aged innkeeper she seated herself at a small table and waved at the server boy. H caught her meaning and vanished into the kitchen, returning moments later with some still steaming food. She was initially surprised at how fast the food came before remembering the chef was a minor fire magician. She had met him last night, the portly man had a jolly smile and a strong accent, good taste in liquor too. She had enjoyed it until her taste buds were numb the night before. She smiled at the memory as she dug into the piping hot oatmeal and fresh fruit. She finished it quickly knowing that she had work to do soon. She played the part of the polite guest though, clearing her dishes to the kitchen window. "Hey Perren," She called to the chef as she put down her bowl,"Can I get some of that Lician stuff we had last night?"


"Y'Sure hon?" He called back jovially, obviously a little bemused,"I'd think aft' las night you'd av ad enough o that!"


"You're the crazy one!" She shot back,"I remember seeing you under a table naught eight hours ago!"


He laughed at that and after a minute of fumbling in his personal liquor cabinet ("can't ave' the barkeeps rootin' round the good stuff, thas fer the real drinkers" he had hurriedly explained to his new drinking buddy the night before); he produced a flask of the "good stuff" and tossed it to her.


"ave Fun at work hon!" He cried at her as she turned to leave, flask stored in her belt.


Sandy stretched as she walked through the slowly waking market, taking time to stop and carry or move something for a merchant, earning some copper for her trouble. After several detours she arrived at the jewelry stand where she had found employment for the festival. The store owner was a thin weedy Teztran man who wrung has hands a lot, especially while bartering. He had hired "The honorable and most respected" Magician to guard his valuable gems from thieves and over zealous customers and Sandy happily accepted. Rightly assuming that a jewelry stand would have deep pockets for good security. The fact that the man wanted her to recommend his services back at the temple didn't hurt her wage either. After some stammered greeting by Raj, whose name came back to her right in time, she helped him carefully remove the glass cases of priceless and not so priceless gems from his iron strong boxes and place them in a way that he deemed "aesthetically pleasing". Which meant about an hour of silent, minute adjustments from the ever patient girl. Then the day commenced and she took her place at the front right pole of the tent that shielded the stall from the elements. It was a peaceful morning and after a rushed meal of some shish-kabobs from a nearby stand she resumed her watch, managing to stick a thief in quicksand as he ran by with what looked like an expensive piece of sculpture. There was an excitement as she demurely refused a reward from some whities and was informed by Raj that his weak old heart couldn't take any more today after that "experience". She got a full days pay though, and happily wandered the festival for a short hour, before remembering that she probably shouldn't buy a four foot tall sculpture of a mole as such a thing would be rather inefficient to travel with.


Who'd want a mole statue anyway. She thought as she wandered to the docks, They're not that adorable. Don't lie to yourself Sandy they are. She sighed as she reached the waters edge and climbed on a mooring pole. Lack of adorable mole aside, good day so far. She reflected, Only thing that could improve it would be... She grinned as she remembered the hip flask and pulled it out hastily. She un-screwed the cap and took a swig without sniffing it, like a classless gutter rat, her mother would say. To her surprise it wasn't the smooth Lician liquor she expected, but a strong Teztran ale. She didn't mind though. It had a warm bitter sweetness that cascaded down the throat and gave a person a fire in the belly that the desert heat couldn't hope to match. The kind of brew that an inn gave some sand merchants before they ventured out into the cold desert night. The kind of brew a girl snuck in after a long day of axe and magic training. She grinned at the memory as she watched the ships move in and out of the harbor, wondering what else could make the day even more interesting.

 

[Shura]

The din of the crowd mixed with the sounds of excitement and music as the festival was approaching full swing. Various stalls tried to attract customers with boasts and sales not always true. Various artists dotted the streets some trying to sell their work others performing for their coin. With many people brought together to enjoy the festival there was almost a tangible energy in the air and Rani loved. After spending the long journey alone or among less than happy travelers the elective atmosphere was a more than welcomed change. She strolled through the streets at a leisurely pace observant bright blue eyes scanning over the stalls and the potential customers who ogled and assessed the goods. Her strolling was more akin to a subtle dance as she weaved her way around the crowd, body subconsciously swaying and moving to the rhythm of the festival music.


She was happy for more than just that though. With so many people cluttered in the streets, bumping and grassing against each other it made her picking very easy. On a normal day people would glance and be more suspicious of a tug or bump, here it was expected due to the shear amount of bodies. She had only been at the festival for a few hours but had picked three pockets in that time gaining herself a pretty penny along the way. The best picks were always around the high wealth stalls selling jewelry and fancy trinkets. She could easily make enough to last her a while but she had to pace herself the festival was still young no point in causing a scene.


As she swayed she could feel eyes on her, another reason she had to pick carefully. Whether it be her looks or what she was there was always someone watching. She was clad in long crimson skirt, a few lengths of warm colored clear cloth wrapped around her hips draping slightly to add their brightness to the skirt. Her upper half was wrapped modestly in a salmon colored shawl but it wasn’t hard to see what she her gypsy roots. Nor was she ashamed of them.


She arrived at the center of the festival the busiest section by far though thankfully more spacious. The music was also at its loudest here. She spied a crowd gathering near the temple stalls to watch the mages as the performed their tricks and rolled her eyes. Rani spied a sizable band playing off in another corner, and smirked. That was much more her style. From their dress and instruments she could tell they were travelers as well possibly only here for the festival, possible new friends. The dancer slipped through the small crowd gathered round the musicians and made eye contact with the drummer who was setting the speed and tone of the song. A short silent conversation of gestures and a nod later she set her satchel in a safe corner among the band and let her shawl slip off from her shoulder leaving her in a crimson vest which tied in a knot at the center of her chest leaving her toned midsection bare down to the low sitting skirt. She rolled down one of the scarves reviling it to be a coin sash which chimed as she moved.


The dancer started by simply clapping drawing more attention from stragglers nearby and getting to audience to join in. A beat or two her hips started to sway in and shake along to the quick beat her shoulders and rest of her body following shortly after. Rani moved in perfect sync to the music letting taking cues from the instruments as to the temp that was to follow at time. Her hip seemed to move separate from the rest of her to a separate beat, enhanced only by the chime of the coins. The rest of her skirt flowed and flared joining with its own odd dance. A bright grin graced her soft face as she felt a rush from the new energy created from the music possessing her completely as she gave no thought to her movements allowing her natural sense of rhythm to drive her movements instead. She did keep enough awareness to know of the crowd that was gathering giving a flirty wink or shimmy to an observer or two.


The addition of the dancer gave reason for people to stop and watch instead of passing with only mild attention to the music among the dull roar of chatter and sales. The small sparse crowd slowly grew and with more people added to the audience came added coin to the bands case. It wasn’t very long until the small corner of the courtyard be came it own small party among the festivities.

 

[SkyGinge]

"AHOY, LANDLUBBERS!!" Whiskey yelled, leaping off the front of the ship in a flurry of dramatic acrobatic flips. He landed in a crouch, arms splayed out beside him, and then rose to his full, hulking height, a wild grin nestling in the black foliage of his beard. With a glimmer in his eye, he began to laugh, and the strange little people of the docks, almost as vibrantly decorated as their precious wares, laughed with him, until a great communal roar was echoing down the dockside.


"That's a mighty fine pirate impression you have there," smirked a thin, wiry man in messy brown overalls as he sploshed the remains of his sixth bottle of rum all over his dirty face. If only you knew. Whiskey plonked himself down at a long wooden table in the midst of the various different stalls, the unfortunate stool creaking slightly under his impressive mass. Extending a huge, hairy hand, he grabbed up his own glass, whiskey of course, and chugged it down in one.


'tis always easier to decieve when folks are party'in, Whiskey mused. After all, dressed in simple black overalls, he looked no more a pirate than any of the other eccentric salesmen, their little merchant ships lined up in a discordant of garish enticing colours along the port rim. After exitting his well disguised vessel, crew all sensibly stored away below deck, he'd simply done what any other festival visiter would do; enjoy the crowd. It hadn't taken too long before he'd got chatting to a couple of store owners, and very soon he was buying them drinks and things were crazy and comfortable. It was only the sweetest of ironies that had him, a pirate, masquerading as a pirate for some kind of cheap trick. He was a party animal, tricks or no tricks. And, whilst his knew friends wasted themselves away on a fountain of drink, he took advantage of his steel-clad stomach to make any neccessary observations.


But really, his alertness was only due to habit. In actuality he had nothing particularly illegal planned, except maybe the odd bit of pickpocketing, which was so petty he hardly counted it anyway. After all, people could get by without a few extra coins. He and his crew couldn't. Reckon if we glossed ourselves out like a war victim charity we'd make a livin' off that. No fun to babying around though. A man's gotta earn his place, lest he loses his manhood.


Whiskey rose from his seat, a tree-trunk like knee knocking against the table and almost sending the wiry mad flying off his seat. "Forgive me friends, but I be havin' other affairs to be tending to." Whiskey smiled with an emphatic bow. The others looked disappointed, but as he strolled off they soon forgot him and returned to their drinks. Whiskey grinned as ever, his pocket-thrust hand toying with his prize: several pouches of gold nicked from the pockets of his unaware friends. Payment fer yer drinks. 'tis a shameful day when a pirate has to teach people courticy.


Lost in his minature daydream, he suddenly found himself tripping on a chip in the woodwork. Immediately, his huge body was flung like a boulder in front of him. But as he fell, he twisted and landed in a roll, extending back to his feet with nothing more than a quiant look of surprise. Watche yer feet, matey. How ironic it would be if me of all people met their fate at the hands of a bit o' broken pier. So ironic it was in fact that he began to laugh again, a great booming laugh that he imagined could be heard several hundred meters away. A couple of eyes turned to him, but he was nothing unusual amongst the flurry of individuals that roamed the stores. There were far greater distractions around, and he was far from one of them.


Now reminding his eyes to do their job, he noticed a young woman perched upon a pole of sorts, a cheerful shine in her eyes. A thought crossed his mind, although really he needed no motivation to start a conversation. "Nice breeze up there, hey?" he called with a grin, "Pleasant daydreaming, young miss?"


@theunderwolf 
Kri'tro stared off blankly into the crowds. He had long ago learnt how to focus himself at any point, and was able to completely zone out the festive sounds that erupted in a cacophany of discordant ecstacy around him. This allowed him to concetrate fully on everything around him. He focussed all of his hearing on feeling his own breathing. In, out. In, out. No chances yet.


A sizeable crowd was beginning to cluster in the corner of the courtyard. Maybe some kind of cheap trick. Magicians or something. Still, I guess I'd better join them. Nobody in their right mind sits alone on a bench for that long without obvious planning something. Besides, could be fun. Maybe somebody I can toy with later. It had occured to Kri'tro that it would be far easier to pull something off if he attacked somewhere hidden, somewhere quieter, like one of the side alleys. But there was no fun in that; that was the cowardly criminality that he hated. He was proud of his lifestyle, and when he struck he would make sure it was something big.





One of the advantages of being small, although he would never admit it, was that it was very easy to slip through crowds. It didn't take long before he was at the front of the crowd, arms crossed confidently, tender hands cradling his impressive biceps as if they were too powerful to hold their own weight. It was the source of the music; some kind of folk people playing music of sorts. The kind of music he enjoyed, the kind of rural sounds that put him at ease.


At the forefront, and what seemed to be garnering most of the attention, was a dancer. Tanned, slender and well tone, she shifted her skirts in a seductive swing, accentuating her attractiveness. Her almond eyes held an alluring cheekiness, and he found himself grinning at the very sight of her. She does well to parade herself, he smiled, caught in her dance. He doubted she had much to give in terms of a criminal opportunity, but with somebody as good looking a her, it hardly mattered.


@Shura

 

[theunderwolf]

Sandy turned at the sound of a boisterously loud voice, giving the large source a once over. He looked like a sailor, she reckoned, and had the voice for it too. While the earth magician had no fondness for boats, she did like the sailors that drove them through the waves. Loud, jolly people who loved the drink and the fiddle birds of a feather to her. And by the looks of this man, his belly especially, he was no exception. She idly flicked her hand against the mooring pole and lowered it to the ground landing on her feet with a small oof. She stood up and considered the man fully, moving the pole back into place with a thought and a kick. "Very much, my good man! Aided in no little part by this." She said with an open grin and a little wave of the open flask.


@SkyGinge

 

[SkyGinge]

Whiskey's grin stretched almost from war to war and he laughed his overbearingly bellowing laugh once more. "Now here be a wise woman!" he exclaimed, giving the much smaller girl a hearty pat on the back. Yes, she be very much like Khalen. Wonder if the pair know each other. No point in deliberating, we'll find out soon enough. "You know lass, my nickname is Whiskey, and for a very good reason. Folks say that long ago there was a seventh sea, a sea of alcohol. But when I found it out, it were gone the next morning!" His resounding chuckle returned with a violent wheeze, so much so that by the time he was finished he was keeled over forwards.


"'course, 'tis naught but a silly myth. But shows at least the kind of stomach I have, hey?" A crowd of noisy youngsters perhaps in their early twenties swaggered past, dressed in various dyed tunics and all with vain and poorly cut attempts at sophisticated facial hair. Out in the open without his hat and his arm and his leg, Whiskey felt naked. In the place of his missing limbs, he had a pair of mechanical constructs, their internal workings stolen from a top engineer's Skyship some fifteen years ago. They were very primitive, and could do nothing more than a few simple twitches and similar. But they served their job correctly.


"Mind if I get a name, now that you have mine, miss?" Whiskey asked courteously.


@theunderwolf

 

[theunderwolf]

Sandy recoiled after the large hand patted her firmly on the back. Man has muscles on him, She noticed as she took a moment to recover from the much larger mans greeting. she turned to him and bowed smoothly "Sandria Ranjas," she said formally, than grinned and offered him the flask, "But my friends call me Sandy." The man was visibly bothered by that raucous group that passed them though, and After a slight pause she got to the point, "Whats the matter with those fellows? You looked at them and suddenly seemed to need twice as many drinks."


@SkyGinge

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Jinta gently put down the large barrel as him and his crew reached the gates, putting care into dropping the valuable barrel of highly flammable liquid onto the damp ground. As he straightened his back he wondered if he was being careful because of how much the Barrel was worth, or how easy it could kill him if it went off. Dusting off his knees, Jinta looked at his crew that all looked Ok from their endeavor, except for a small amount of exhaustion that seemed to soak the atmosphere around them. Jinta smiled, that atmosphere would be long gone once they had sold this stuff and went to go get some rum in their stomachs.


Jinta shouted over the mumblings of his crew,"Alright, laddies, lets be off sellin' these fine objects 'n get some booze!" The last parts of his invigorating encouragement was consumed by the suddenly reenergized yells of his boys. Smirking, He snapped his fingers and pointed at the barrel at his feet, before walking off and not looking back as the Crew tried to find a place to put the barrel. He whistled and looked around, before sighing as he saw a rather familiar sight. His Personal Water Mage, who had already been a rather ripe age of 59 when he was assigned to a 9-year-old Jinta, was now a old age of 79 and was deep into his senial years. The old man was the only who would actually care for Jinta, even if that was a rare occurrence. In all reality, the old fart was an old hardheaded no-nonsense artifact, but Jinta couldn't help, but feel affectionate towards the weak and shriveled man. Jinta didn't have the heart to do away with the man for many of reasons. One being that even with the disadvantage of age, Jinta was still constantly impressed of what the old fart could do when he was lucid, and two, being that the old man refused to die anywhere other than among the Crew that he had given most of his later years to.


Jinta sighed as he poked the old man, only getting a wheezy grunt back, before looking over his shoulders and whistling at his Crew, all of which had managed to force the barrel of flammable liquid onto an unwilling carrier's already filled wheelbarrow. They all turned to him and groaned when he pointed at the sleeping man, which was basically him telling them of their new babysitting duties. Smiling in satisfaction, Jinta went through the gates as he left his Crew. Over the years he had been with his Crew, they had come to an understanding. They would sell the stuff, using their best haggling skills to "persuade" the buyer to be more favorable to their price, and only spend their own cuts, unless they wanted to seek his wrath. Of course, their were a few who had tried to take some of the main cut that went to Jinta, but they hadn't been up to the task to escape his all seeing eye, and by that, he meant that the others, who were truly loyal to a fault, ratted the scoundrels out. Even the less than loyal one were scared into line when they saw Jinta literally fish using the two men as bait. The Crew had eaten squid for a month, but they couldn't get the two live men out of their head.


Jinta strode on in and dug into his pocket, before pulling out the invitation, his invitation. It might as well be his as of now, since the original owner wasn't exactly in any state to attend herself. Jinta looked around and observed the landscape, when hs bored and searching eyes landed on the grand crowd surrounding some sort of spectacle. His emerald eyes gleaming in interest, Jinta made haste as he strode over to the crowd. Due to his height, he was easily able to see the dancing of a fine lady from the back, which didn't stop him from easily walking to the front of the crowd. This didn't go well with the ones he pushed, however, yet his interest was undeterred by the loud yells of complaint coming from either side of him.


@Shura @SkyGinge

 

[Elegy]

The Kael festival. A time when the streets filled with the bustle of happiness, fortune, and crime. Dozens of voices of all different tenors and tones meshed together to form the oddly mellifluous cacophony of bustling urban life. To Raksana, this bustle meant only one thing: Business. And business meant money. She had come to the Kael festival a day or two in advance to set up shop with her sky ship in the busier parts of town to optimize her sellings and this effort had largely paid off. Her stand was rather plain, simply being a retractable wall on the skyship that allowed people to look inside a small, seven by seven meter square room. The room was filled with vials, experimental equipment, vats containing unknown and exotic powders, strangely hued solids, and countless other objects. The room was not free to enter, though, and was barred off by a five foot high counter where Raksana exhibited most of her most wanted goods and what she called her "common people" commodities. "Common people" commodities were materials that the regular joe walking down the streets of Kael would have an interest in, which included several different foreign spices from every corner of the world. These spices could be used for cooking, incest for religious services, medicines, fertilizers, and any number of uses and were highly valuable. The spices were contained in ten clay pots neatly arranged in two straight lines with a small tag plastered onto the front of the pot indicating the contents inside. Other materials that Raksana sold were those produced in her lab - rare earths and substances with unique properties highly prized by many different trades. Naptha for long lasting fires, sulfurs, metal alloys, oil, polymers, the list goes on. These substances were prized among those that needed them for their specific trade, and they all fetched in considerable profit with their high prices due to their extreme rarity. Raksana sold the spices while Stein handled the chemicals, as not many people would want to buy from a counter with a six and a half foot giant leering at them.

Business was booming, and Raksana had a content smile settled on her face as the fifteenth chef to visit came to buy a vast amount of cinnamon. The coins earned were placed into a cylindrical metal tube with lock mechanism, and Raksana felt her happiness rise the heavier the cylinder got as coins poured into it non stop. When the customer left, Raksana called back to Stein to assess the stock of chemicals and materials. Stein reported back with satisfactory numbers. Hearing the good news, Raksana called back to Stein, "Good job spending the entire night sleepless making our wares. Also nice job handling safe delivery of our merchandise, your illegal friends sure are helpful in smuggling around stuff for free. You should rest up, go out and explore the festival a bit and tell me all about it later. Oh, and before I forget, here's a list of things I need you to buy while your at it. Have fun!". Raksana tossed a ragged scroll detailing shopping instructions towards Stein, who caught it and hid it beneath his cloak. Stein simply nodded in response to Raksana and left the skyship through a back door, making sure to pocked the flintlock revolver he had smuggled in under some cargo. He doubted any sort of altercation would occur, but it was best to be prepared as his years as a hunter had instilled in him a cat - like wariness. His massive frame and fierce looking face gave him a sort of red carped among the huge and thronging crowds, as it seemed that people naturally moved out of their way for Stein instinctivelly. Stein wandered about, his interest and curiosity piqued. Festivities always held incredible wonders and interests that enthralled Stein, and the journey to find these interesting events was a treat in of itself. Stein's sharp eyes scanned the buildings and shops around him with pinpoint accuracy, whereupon his acute mental awareness would sort his visual imagery into neat pockets of the most useful information. It was through this peculiar but effective way of assessing his environment that Stein noticed that the crowd he was in was heading towards a commotion where a performance of sorts was going on. Curiosity stoked, Stein followed the crowd and found himself viewing quite the skilled dancer along with many others. Being a head or two taller than most others, Stein had a great view and he found the fluidity and grace of the dancer's movements to be wonderful. The rhythmic music accentuating the choreography heightened the wonder of the dance, and Stein stood there admiring the natural dexterity of the dancer before him.​

 

[Shura]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/note_zps46c09f0d.jpg.fc76b93bf49e42a4271c32cab713528e.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="31522" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/note_zps46c09f0d.jpg.fc76b93bf49e42a4271c32cab713528e.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

The dancer moved along the half circle of space that had formed between the crowd and the band never coming to a complete stop some part of her was always in motion. Her movements alternated between smooth and jarring sometimes both at the same time on some odd way. At some point instead of dancing to the music the music started to follow her motions. As if conducting a small band with the movements of her whole body. Each muscle group moving with skilled control. Her natural playful and flirty nature showing very clearly as she pandered to the crowd everyone in a while. Arching back just a little further or exaggerating some movement in a very sensual manner. At on point she spied a gathering of men on one side of the crowd and a grin graced her lips as she twirled a bit closer to that side lingering for a few beats.


The cheer and clapping egged her on fueling her dance as she slowed the tempo ever so lightly she flashed a coy smile and blew a kiss before returning to the center of the small area the tempo continuing to slow as her movement went from quick and somewhat jarring to very slow and smooth. Every move was fluid leading into the next graceful movement. Every so often she would pop her hip out on a sharp beat but everything was always control and measured.


@SkyGinge @DamagedGlasses @Elegy

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Jinta smiled as he joined in on the clapping, but on a much more tame intensity. He enjoyed the way the girl danced, and how her muscles seemed to become one with the music, the bond between them indistinguishable and unbreakable. His emerald eyes sparkled as he observed the girl moving her hips to the tempo of the music. He was almost tempted to throw money at her, but he had built quite a resistance to girls like these. While they were nice and soft from a far, when they got to your wallet, they could become a poisonous snake faster than you could say, "Uh oh".


Then you would find yourself penniless in the middle of nowhere, both waiting for someone you're familiar with comes by, while also hoping no one comes by at all. Jinta only knew this because of personal experience of course. He couldn't count the amount of times he had gotten too drunk on his wine and wandered out into the clutches of a seductive snake, her rattler shaking at a low volume as to catch her prey unaware.


@SkyGinge @Elegy @Shura

 

[CrimsonEclipse]

The town of Kael is bursting with life and joy, people dancing in every corner, others singing songs from their homelands. There are those merchants, taking advantages of the festivities and brought out their best goods and wares, people both visitors and locals gawking at the performers. And of course there are those who seek to fill their pockets rather than spend their gold, those who work in taverns and bars, and of course, those who seeks to fill their pouches with gold gained from less, noble, means.


The streets were crowded, filled with people eager to see the festivities. Well, most part of the street that is. If you look in the distance, you could see an empty circle, with only one man in it. Why are they avoiding him if you may ask? No, he was not the son of the king, and no, he was not a bandit of any sort. The reason was that he was, different. Oh sure, different is the norm in Kael, but he, he is a different level on his own.


A huge hulking figure, his body covered in a blend of rock and metal, an extraordinary piece of equipment. His wings folded against his back, his tail dragging behind him. His reptilian head raised high in pride, a pride only a warrior could have, his eyes unblinking and unflinching. Just from standing a few feet away, people started sweating, an aura of heat emanating from the creature, coming from the Sharlak.


It was truly a rare sight, not only in Kael but even in Irrea as well, to see a Sharlak. They tend to keep to themselves, the same way they wanted others to treat them, to stay in the distance. Though he received countless of judging stares and fearful faces, Al'thuzar Kraan continued to walk, not minding any of them. After a year in the realm of the humans, Al'thuzar learned one thing. They fear what they don't know and they despise what they far. Such is the flaw of mankind. But amongst the judging crowd, he could also see respectful nods and awed stares, those who knows his name. He can be considered as a legend to the adventurers, especially the rookies. But alas, no matter how famous and well known you are, your difference from the crowd will still divide you from them.


"It is still an hour before I am due to meet that man, if he is a man. I might as well join in on the festivities." He mumbled to himself, looking around. It was hard to keep track of things, people rushing to go somewhere, some staying and talking with peers, others dancing and performing. It truly was a festive time of the year. If only he could find someplace to join in.

 

[SkyGinge]

Grabbing the flask from her outstretched arm with a wide and wild swing, he thrust the soggy mouthpiece to his grinning mouth, and swigged back, tilting his entire body back. After a moment, he returned with a satisfied grunt and, wiping the residue off of his beard, passed the now empty flask back to its owner. It was unwise to get drunk this early into the day, but Whiskey knew he couldn't resist. Sadly for the girl, his lack of self-control had lead to the end of her drink.


"Nothing be wrong with those fellows, least from what I can see," Whiskey frowned, unsure of what exatly she had picked out in him. "Thanks fer the drink. Truth be told, I've already had a couple, but hey! 'tis a party after all!" His hulking body loomed over her in a slightly aggressive manner, although this aggression was barely noticeable under his charisma and energy, nor did he intend to give it off at all. It was all a part of the facade he had built around his profession, the inspiring facade that kept his crew motivated and loyal.


"Teztran drink, am I right?" he tilted his head up slightly with a thoughtful gaze, "Like yerself, I imagine. You're far too tanned to be a native Vequan. What brings ya here to this fine festival then, young missy?"


@theunderwolf


/////////////


Kri'tro continued to watch with his practiced smile, feeling the flow of the crowds around him like the waterline of the Lician tide. He could tell from the sudden dampness that a merman had lined up behind him, presumably with his gills liquified as per standard water magician practice. It was a bittersweet feeling. For one, it reminded him of home, of the days he had spent climbing the seaside hills, of climbing trees below Dae'rn frame, of how his brother would dare him a little further into the water, of how everything seemed salty and satisfying and rich. But it felt out of place now. Like a ghostly chill casting him back on a painful trip to his own life.


A man next to him, probably double his age, was staring with such wide eyes that Kri'tro imagined stabbing them with a pin would pop them like twin baloons. Unlike the man, he wasn't naive enough to fall for the dancers charms. They're like serpents, them girls, he remembered his grandfather saying in the midst of one of his many old tales, They coax you in with glittering scales and fluid twists and twirls, but underneath they're just as much a reptile as those dragon-watsits in Irrea. And that means they share the same ideals.


But Grandpa never did understand the concept of snake-tamers, Kri'tro grinned. And that was what he would do now, as he had done many times before. For the best defence is offence, and he was positive he could out-charm, out-sneak and out-play the beautiful dancing girl. An extra challenge for him, and one that would be a lot less liable to send him off on an early journey from the state. And so Kri'tro watched on, feeling the crowd move around him in a web of souls, waiting like a coiled up snake in anticipation to strike.


@Shura


@DamagedGlasses


@Elegy

 

[theunderwolf]

"Good guess," Sandy said with a raised eyebrow, "Not a lot of people would recognize a good dark if it slapped them in the face." She took a moment to look up at the man. He seemed to tower over everything around him if not by height, but by sheer force of personalty. She'd seen bigger though. "As for the festival, I can't say," She looked up and then tapped the ground with her foot,"I usually just follow my whims and well, they led me here, can't really explain it anymore then, why plants grow."


@SkyGinge

 

[Elegy]

Stein nodded slowly and absentmindedly as his interest dwindled, as if each nod sapped some curiosity out of him. Already Stein was becoming more and more disinterested in the dance before him, partly because it was something that Stein could not particularly relate himself to or analyze. It was akin to admiring a vibrant view of picturesque and natural splendor, a momentary brilliance that rapidly wanes as time slithers on. Although Stein could not deny the natural and wonderful fluidity and grace of body exhibited by the dancer before him, he at the same time could not break down the components and look at the infinitely small details making up this dance because there were none at an inherent level to interest him. Of course the complexities of dance are apparent and each of these complexities are practiced and combined into the graceful and coherent whole performed in front of him, but yet none of the components were absolutely necessitated by each other. The intrinsic bond between the infinite components and the greater whole was something that Stein was most interested in, as the exploration of such part to whole relationships bestowed deep understandings of the physical and spiritual world. To this end alchemy was the greatest holder of these bonds, with components holding countless bonds interconnected in harmony transcending the bare beauty of nature, and thus Stein felt himself most resonant with it. His previous passions such as blacksmithing and mechanical engineering were also representations of this unique desire and method of understanding, but they had fallen short of the sheer scale of enlightenment that alchemy entailed. Stein often wondered whether there was any point to seeking interesting things when they all fell flat over time, but he instinctively knew that his mind, perhaps the human mind itself, could not function zoned in on one goal and coherent but distinctly separate junctures were needed in the roadway called life to alleviate the strain of moving towards the upward slope of true understanding. Before he could dig himself in an even deeper pit of arcane and abstract ruminations, Stein snapped out of his trance by remembering that he had been assigned a task. Unrolling the scroll that Raksana had given him, Stein observed that he needed to procure a hefty amount of water, a considerable amount of tallow, turpentine from an artist's shop, and various different peppers. Stein, using his logical and quick mind, deduced sensibly that procuring these goods should take priority over any interest pursuits, as an aggravated Raksana was an ordeal not able to be faced head on by many. If Stein were to be considerably late with these goods, he would find himself being called in to help Raksana with her "training", which mostly entailed suffering several "accidentally" strong blows. Many would find it ridiculous that such an experienced combatant and such a large man such as Stein would not fight back, but even Stein knew that in a fist fight with Raksana, he was so hopelessly outmatched that doing nothing and attempting to sustain as little damage as possible was the best course of action as decided by his infallibly logical and calculating mind. At the same time, Stein never held any resentment against Raksana nor did she hold any for him, as any enmity between himself and her was always something trivial and often something that she reacted too excitably over. Though their personalities were incompatible on paper, they in reality meshed together in an odd mixture where both respected and looked out for each other not because of similarities, but because differences allowed such understanding to come into being.

Stein stepped briskly out of the crowd, which moved away from him for clear passage, and began to first head to the painter's shop that he spotted on his walk here where he planned to buy some turpentine.​

 

[Shura]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/note_zps46c09f0d.jpg.8955f5660aee4f511052289700a2fc84.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="31523" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/note_zps46c09f0d.jpg.8955f5660aee4f511052289700a2fc84.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

The music and Ranis movements remained slow for a several measures before picking up tempo once more. The dancers movements always in sync as she shimmied and rotated her hips to the quickening music. She started to to clap to the base rhythm getting the crowd in on the show once as the beat picked up quicker. An finale was coming close as the music reached a fevered tempo. Then one by one by some unknown cue the instruments doped one by one until the only thing left was the fervent tapping of the percussionist and the jingly of Ranis coin skirt fitting the same tempo. She gave a shimmied spin before dropping into a split as the last beat was struck, her upper body arched back so it was nearly parallel to the leg behind her.


The crowd erupted into applauded at the conclusion of the small show. Rani's chest heaved slightly as she tried to catch her breath while relishing the attention. She knew on some level it was vain but found it better to enjoy positive attention when given to counter act the negative view mostly people saw of her. She gracefully rose to her feet once more and bowed to the crowd then turned to the band clapping along with the rest of the audience since they were a large part of the show as well. Rani contemplated another song but figured a break was needed since the last song had gone on longer than most. The crowd started to disperse now that the show was done. Rani gathered her shawl and satchel before turning to the leader of the band. "You dance very well" The lead percussionists complimented, "Ah, and you and your lot play very well. Thank you for the dance." She grinned. "Any time, perhaps you'll dance again with us later." He questioned before offering a few gold coins from the tips that were collected. Rani smirked, blue eyes sparking with mischief "Perhaps you may hear me sing." She giggled accepting the coins and slipping them into her satchel. "Until then enjoy the festivities." She called as she started to walk off feeling fairly pleased and energize. There really was nothing like a good dance to make a good day wonderful.


@SkyGinge @DamagedGlasses

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Jinta's clapping died down as the woman started to walk off, however his interest had been caught by the women. There were a lack of things in the wide open world that could honestly hold his attention the same way she did, most of things were also women, but regardless, and even if he might regret it later, he knew what he wanted to do. Hopefully, this would end up a whole lot better than last time he had decided that the women on the corner of the street looked particularly pleasing.


Making sure his "Fishing" Harpoon was situated in a more passive looking position, Jinta half-smiled, showing of his sharp teeth, and went over to the departing lady, his pace beginning to easily overtake hers. As he neared the Dancer, Jinta thought about how lucky he was that his weapon was something that a lot of fishermen carried around these days. While his heavy chains were sitting harmlessly in his side bag, the Harpoon made for a grand intimidating picture, and there was nothing the enforcers could say about it. His Crew, however, were mostly made up of people who had rather deadly looking weapons, so they had to leave theirs at the ship, no matter how uncomfortable it made him to do so. Shaking his head of the worrisome thoughts, Jinta brightened as he reached the woman, positioning himself right behind her.


Coughing a little, Jinta raised his voice and in a grand and friendly voice asked, "Miss, may I take a moment 'o ye're tim'?" His rough pirate accent that he had gained from being around belligerent older men all his life was soaked in a gentlemen like tone that he always tried to use for the ladies.


@Shura

 

[SkyGinge]

"Well," Whiskey chuckled, "you might say I'm well travelled. In my many years I've seen most corners of the middle reaches, so 'tis not too hard for me to distinguish where people are from 'n that. Still, I do respect a good gal with her ideals in the right place, such as yerself. No point in wastin' yer life away chasin' some other fool's dream. You'll go far, I'm sure." Not a regular then? Shame, probably won't be able to help me with my task.


He turned to face the crowds again, his hulking arms thrust strongly in the pockets of his black overalls. Company wouldn't hurt, he mused. "Say, miss, don't suppose yer busy? If not, care to accompany this old man on a little expedition? By the way, me name's Whiskey. Well, not me actual name, but 'tis the name folks gave me."


///////////////


Kri'tro clapped slowly and subtly with the rest, his head cocked with a certain handsome aggression. Not once did his eyes leave her body, her soft gleaming limbs, their graceful flex and fluidity, her well toned abdomen. Gathering her stuff, she chatted briefly to the musicians as the crowd behind him scattered off excitedly, like mice hurrying to the next slice of cheese.


Soon she began to walk off, and the merman beside him followed, taking his putrid fishy stench with him. He could feel the passionate tension in the subtle nuances of the man's movement, and almost scowled in disgust. Weak, weak and pathetic. A true man conquers not uses. He trailed her down the street like a young donkey tempted by a carrot. His carrot, Kri'tro thought, and his meal to prepare.


Leaving a little distance, he followed after the man, head still tilted and a vacant swagger in his stride, following the light of the dancer's flesh. Around him, a swarming mass of brightly dressed people flitted between stalls like moths, simplistically following the tides like sheep crossing across familiar fields. Positioning himself in a casual lean against a stall wall, he listened attentively to the pair's conversation, waiting for the opportune moment to introduce himself. He was hidden and through the turning of his head didn't appear at all suspicious, but even if he were suspected he wasn't particularly bothered.


@theunderwolf @Shura @DamagedGlasses

 

[Shura]

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Rani hummed softly to herself as she strolled through the crowd hips swaying slightly to the echos of music that still lingered in her mind. She felt the familiar prickling sensation along the back of her neck that she was being watched but carried on as if not to notice. After such a display she wouldn't be surprised if she gained a small following. She smirked to herself unable to help but imagine a small pack of dogs trailing after her. Her bright eyes scanned around spying several routes she could take should she need a quick escape. She knew no sane person would be stupid enough to try anything with force, no with so many knights and guards around. She might be able to fend for her self by crying helpless maiden was sometimes much easier.


The pricking got stronger as she sensed someone was right behind her. She glanced over her shoulder upon hearing someone purposefully cough surprised as to what it was that was following her. He was very tall for one and built, dress suggesting from years of working the sales and rigs of a ship. She spied shark light teeth, gills and a few clearly visible scales and confirmed her suspicions of being a merman which was a fairly rare sight. Though it really shouldn't surprise her seeing as it was a festival. The stalk of messy green hair reminded her back to the crowd before, very hard to miss such an odd color in a sea of tan and brown. She regarded with curious blue eyes a moment "Hm? Perhaps." She replied with a cheeky smirk before turning to face him. "I take it you were part of the crowd a few minutes ago?"





@DamagedGlasses @SkyGinge

 

[theunderwolf]

Sandy stretched languorously and cracked her knuckles"Expedition?" She asked as she went to stand beside him," What are we doing? And please don't tell me it's guarding a jewelry stand, a whole morning if that is enough." She rolled her eyes at the memory of boredom. "Also are you sure your sober enough to go on a expedition? That's the second time you've introduced yourself."


@SkyGinge

 

[IceQueen]

Cortana sighed, leaning her hands behind her head to press them to the back of her neck. She walked peacefully though the crowds, her wings tucked into her back so she didn't hurt people. The last thing she wanted was to anger someone else, or have someone try to steal her feathers. Cortana cautiously weaved though the sea of people, her eyes gazing over a dancer, and a merman. She smiled at them, and continued.


She traveled through the crowds, hearing the reminiscence of someone with a thick accent that kept saying words that reminded her of a pirate. She laughed a bit, concealing her mouth to hide it. She tried not to speak to much in public because sometimes her bluntness could put people off. So she moved on from the pirate like person that was clearly not entirely sober.


Gazing though the stores and such, she searched for one where she might find an explosive or two. Those where always fun to use. She twirled one of her long white and pink locks around her finger. That was one of the sure fire signs that she was an angel. Well that and a huge set of wings. She smiled, the smile only turning to a frown when she did not find any explosives. "Dang...." She mumbled under her breath, not dwelling on it to long. Soon enough, a smile was back on her face as she continued to walk though the crowd ridden streets of Kiel.

 

[SkyGinge]

"Ah, yer right, so it is!" Whiskey's chuckle turned a little sheepish. Must've had a brainfart or somit'. Ah well, suits the image, fits the masquerade. Wish it's been something planned, then I'd be able to boadt about to Chitho, and Khalen when I eventually find her. "And you're Sandy. I'm gettin' old, but 'tis no fault of the drink that I forget, see. I'll be right as rain, fine as a fiddle." He began to stalk off into the stream of people, motioning for her to follow with an emphatic finger. "Besides, 'tis hardly like this expedition as I say is anything too spectacular. No, 'tis rather simple; I could do it with a stomach full of thirty pints 'o rum, methinks!"


He lead her across the port, smiling with a natural snarl as he watched everybody else flow by. "I'm looking for my daughter," he explained, "that was the reason I spoke to you, me dear; you're about her age and I was wondrin' if ya knew her. It appears not, but never be mindin'; company's the charm. She lives quite the life now, you see, does a bit of everything; part peacemaker, part magician, all lovable daughterly rogue. Boy am I glad she didn't turn out like one of 'em pampered brats who waster their lifetimes tryin' to emulate noble snobs. I heard her ship were coming to help moniter things here in the fair, though from searchin' this port it doesn't seem like she's around. Though you call trust on good old Khalen to somehow find a way to skirk of anything too formal, so I'm half expecting her to stil be there in the fair."


Row after row after row of small, roughly cut skyships lines the docks high above the clouds, like the caravan of a ramshackle slum. Nobody would guess that actually one of the little shops was fake, or rather was far from simple a shop. For in the back room of one fell a ladder, a ladder that descended precariously under the ship and uner the docks to a rough rope bridge, which in turn connected to the hull of The Abyss, the ugly mix-match of metals and woods that Whiskey called his beloved ship. It was an ingenious way to hide a ship, and he was surprised that not many other people tried it. He figured it was something to do with the ancient Vequan superstition that all surface land is sacred, a gift from the titans. As such, even though many followed the government's proclaimation of science, there was still an innate reluctance to build below ground. Seems fair to me; gives me great cover anywhere in Vequa, allows me to relax!


Near the end of the docks, they reached a large wooden noticeboard; a poster full of wanted signs. The creaking post was adorned with about twenty crinkled scraps of yellowed paper, a crude sketching decorating each one as a visualisation of the villain they represented. Not to his surprise, he was on the list, though what little eye-witnesses had escaped his attackers appeared to lack any artistic talent. 'The Laughing Lunatic', it read, a wide, boarish face baring a spiteful grin and icky beard his appaling likeness. In truth, it looked very little like him, and the very sight of it sent him into another violent bout of ear-breaking laughter.


@theunderwolf