Fantasy The Order [AGAIN?!]

[HTCOR]

Upon the coastline of Cuba, rested a three story guild-house. The building seemed rather run-down, reflecting the status of the order within the Caribbean- generally ignored as it wasn't a pretty sight. Most colonies ran themselves, and pirates were abound. However, to those looking to join one of the prestigious 'Guilds', this was still an honor of sorts- even if it was the weakest link in the chain of all of the Twenty Seven. Nearby docks would host a single galleon, slowly tying itself to the docks with passengers- people who were willing to come to this Guild, and join it in the right to become something more- if that be a force for good or evil, popular among the masses, or even to gain power, this place was a good start, and it would look well to start out in other guilds. There were a pair of commoners outside, recently hired with silver, as to get them to clean up the place, and so they were- ripping up weeds, cutting the grass with their scythes, and even trimming the bushes and trees to make the place look more professional. However, they could only do so much for now, as the place still looked horrible to the eyes. At the docks for any approaching upon the boat, they would find themselves being woken up and called out to the top of the ship as to enable them to see the sight of their new home. The galleon was just pulling into the dock, and the crew was scrambling about- taking cargo from below decks to carry it to the island. There was shipments of meat, new nails for them, and various goods for the Guild Hall to restore itself to its former glory, if Ryder cared to do such. Perhaps he did- but that was a story for today, not to be told right away.

 

[TheImmortalDeity]

Ryder​

The interior of the guild was a bustling mess. Chaos was seen at every turn as the mages of the designated "worst guild" went about their days. These men and women were known as the misfits, the troublemakers, the no-goods, and the one that was obligated to stand above them all was currently. . . puking. Yes, the infamous leader, Ryder, the man said to possess a body of steel and the heart of a lion was barfing up his last supper. He had too much to drink the night before, celebrating the prospect of the new arrivals, and now that the day had come, his hangover was killer. On his knees and with his hands clinging to the rims of the outhouse toilet, the pactborn was finishing up his last burst of upchuck in "Chucktown". Finishing up by wiping his lips with his arm, he walked out of the outhouse with as much charisma as ever. He was in his element.

The day started like any other. The sun was harsh and the breeze of the wind was gentle on his skin. Any other day in Cuba. It was the same old guild doing the same old thing, the only difference being that it was the long-expected recruitment day. It had been three months since the last one. The guild had gained some real hitters since then and lost others along the way. That was how this guild ran, how The Order functioned. Ryder knew his members weren't bound to stay long, but he loved each and every one of them in his own way. Placing a recently vomit covered hand over his eyes, he scanned the docks. They were already here. Sniffing his Hawaiin shirt, he let out a subconscious gag, followed by stripping out of the garment and throwing it to the side, taking his rightful place at the entrance of the guild, he waited to see all the new faces right as they were coming in.

It was important to note that Ryder does not simply wear pants. The only thing he wore currently was a thinly laced thong that hardly covered anything. It was too hot for him to bother wearing anything else, at least, that's what he told his fellow members. Placing either hand on his toned hips, he grinned to himself. Recruitment day was his favorite day, the monotony of being a guild leader only now being alleviated by this momentous occasion. "Now then," he said to himself trying to get a better look at everything that was going on in the hamlet down below. "How many babes are we gonna get this time around?"

Celica​

A stifled yawn and a few creeping steps down the guild's main stairway led Celica into The Order's recreational room. It was early in the day, and yet people were already throwing fists and barking at each other. There was no way that she was getting any extra shut-eye. Meandering over to the coffee table, located next to the eating lounge, she poured herself a cup of tea, followed by another yawn. If she remembered what went on yesterday, all of the senior members had been partying all night and the mess they had left was still evident, despite the hired help that Alister was kind enough to pay for. It was the day that new recruits were coming in, and unlike their leader, Alister was aware of what first impressions meant. How long had it been since she was first introduced to the guild? It felt like only yesterday she was suffering from heavy injuries caused by Sede and Ryder during their brawl. She wondered if it was going to get as crazy today as it did then.

Picking up her tea with a graceful touch and leading herself over to a vacant table, she sat herself down and enjoyed her morning to herself. There wasn't much for her to do for the day, but she promised Alister that she was going to help with greeting the new members. He said something along the lines of her being a "gentle soul" and that this was "the only way to keep that sexual nutcase at bay" while he got everything set up. She sipped her tea silently, thinking to herself. What was she planning to do after greeting everyone? Well, she hoped to spend some time with Maria before she had to go off on another mission, and maybe even check on her brother Vance if he allowed it. Indeed, there was a lot to do on her plate. Celica didn't know it, but a giddy twinkle formed around the edges of her mouth. It was the start of new adventures with new people, and that made her tiny heart skip a beat.

HTCOR Asa Loko Violetti GingerBread Foxu Loony_Bin Lotusy N Nonexisting Mistborn Lo Mayn Magical Squid Senpai okmelonn youngmanrhys

 

[Asa Loko]

Laying on the beach was Asako Chinook. The white blouse was open, revealing most of the naked upper body and the bra. Her cowboy hat was covering her face, while she was loudly snoring and snoozing. Right behind her was a sheated longsword pushed into the sandy ground. A very traditional weapon from lands far away, which was a harsh contrast to the holstered revolver at her waist. This woman was in general a huge jigsaw made up of huge contrasts. Far-eastern, but also western features. She had a soft and feminine face typical for women from Europe, but slightly squinted eyes like someone from Asia. The hair long and hazelnut-brown and covered in sand, because she took a nap right next on the harbour.

Eventually she woke up. Raising her upper body and arms for a fist fight against the hair. "Whataya want from me, fuckin' punk ass fucker!", she grimaced and looked to the right and left. All around her other drunkards, who were passed out. Women and man alike. Did she have a party? The empty rum bottles indicated exactly that, but given how some of the people were beaten up, she wasn't sure anymore.

Yes, constant contrasts. The looks of a real beauty and looker, but the mouth and mind of an old ship's captain, that lost both arms and legs, which were replaced with wooden stumbs. If it wouldn't have been for that, she would have been busier with marriage or anything else, than waking up hungover on some beach on a random isle. Wasn't she on Jamaica just a few days ago? Or the Bahamas? She didn't remember clearly, but she knew damn well they had good cigars and rum.

"Uckers", she cursed once again and started to close the buttons of her blouse, before she took out a wallet. No money she spoke in her mind, as life faded out of her body. Asako entered a state of... bliss. Or perfect enlightment. It felt like she left her physical body for a moment and was on a different plane, before she realised, that she was still alive. And broken.

"FUUUU-."

Loud yelling could be heard from the beach.

...

...

"Darn tootin' drinkin' habit. I blame the old man", she walked through the city. The beautiful blue sea faced by her back, as she was making her way back up. The cowboy hat was on top of her head and the boots with the spurs were clacking loudly with each step. Just like the far-eastern lamellar armour, that was rustling around with each step. Even her clothes were a huge mess. She was a mix of both some cheap ronin, but also your average cowboy. Wonder who was thinking of giving her these clothes? A real huge idiot, that was for sure.

She was thinking of way to get money. Asako couldn't even afford a bandana to wrap around her face to become a bandido like her father once was. "Urgh", she groaned in hunger, but also in annoyance. It was then, when she came to a halt in front of the guild-house of the Order. And their half-naked guild-leader, whom the brown-haired cowmurai only stared at with an open mouth. No further words crossed her lips and she simply stopped moving. A sign by the gods?

 

[Foxu]

Ru'Hara Vaughan

Location: The Cuban Shore || Interacting: An Incompetent Sailor||Mentioned: N/A

The trip to Cuba had been an arduous one. Ru’ Hara had been rendered seasick and horrified, being surrounded by water on all sides for months had left the man anxiety ridden at every turn. At the sight of the shoreline the strange creature felt a euphoric rise in his heartbeat. His dark jet-stone eyes twinkled with relief, his chest heaving from a deep intake of breath. At long last, the breeze carried the scent of things other than salt. Ru’ Hara had heard about the poor repute of this guild, and he’d dreaded the thought before getting on the cargo ship, but after so long on this blasted boat the moth had grown to believe that anything was better than being on the ocean. He was desperate to get out. As soon as the ship’s crew began lowering smaller sea crafts he was rearing and ready to go, stepping into the first available one with a ship hand and one other sad sap who had applied to join the most worthless guild in the world. The man flailed miserably as the ship was lowered, letting out small sounds of distress here and there.​

Once touching water, Ru’ Hara instantly became frustrated with the unsteady jostling of the boat, internally panicking about how close he was to the turquoise waters the ship cut through. He wanted to urge the young blonde sailor in the middle to row faster. The lepidot casually opened his umbrella, placing it over his shoulder as tightly against his wings as possible to prevent them from getting spattered with water. His knees were buckled against his chest, which was once again heaving, but this time out of earnest fear. He hummed and muttered incoherently under his breath, staring at the docs. As the boat drifted away from the docs, spiraling slightly as it was pushed towards the beach rather than the wharf. Ru’ Hara realized that the sailor was having a hard time keeping balance of the boat, which was slightly tipping into the water on the front end, scrapping the sediment of the seashore. His face grew strained. He was so light that the weight in the craft was no longer evenly distributed. The lepidot closed his eyes tightly, counting the seconds until the boat took one final jolt. He released a heavy sigh as he uttered under his breath, ”Oh thank god, it’s over!”​

They’d finally hit the shore. After endless days of nothing but shattered glass waves and nauseous seafoam, they had finally touched ground. Ru’ Hara stood up from the back of the tiny boat after taking a few moments to fully register his situation. A gran sense of ecstasy washed over him as he basked in the exotic light of the sun. He walked lightly across the rim of the little craft. His hands shook as he stared at the large expanse of land before him. His heart was warmed, and the exhilaration of possibility lifted his spirits. As the young sailor who had brought him to shore wished him and the other passenger a good day and safe travels, Ru’ Hara bent down to clap a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. A benevolent smile spread across his gray velvet face. The bright white of his teeth contrasted wonderfully with his dark visage as he chuckled. He said in a brittlely dark tone “It will be a good day when you're dead, Brother.”​

The sea man stared back at him with his mouth hanging open, visibly confused by the bizarre man’s disconcerting turn of phrase. Ru’ Hara spoke with an accent of indecipherable origin, and it was so thick the flax-haired boy wasn’t even sure if he’d understood every word as he watched the winged man soundlessly run across, and jump from, the rim of his boat.​

Ru’ Hara evaded stepping on any wet place on the shore, so visibly avoidant of them to the point where one might have assumed the tide was terribly acidic. He landed effortlessly in the golden sand and immediately collapsed into the physical embodiment of the sun, his sea legs giving out beneath him. Ru’ Hara spread his hands through the silky ichor of the seashore, the individual withheld warmth of each grain easing his tens joints. Tiny specks of gold hung onto his fuzzy appendages and stuck to his dark suit pants like pollen to a bee. He laughed from the glee of touching a static surface for the first time in ages, from the pent of strain of being trapped at sea for far too long, his face light and optimistic.​

Ru’ Hara eventually collected himself enough to try to walk again, eventually managing to regain his footing on normal terrain. He immediately put as much distance as he could between him and the acrid sent of fish and salt that stung the tender membranes of his nose. The slight breeze brought on by the day kissed the edges of his mottled wings as he fled the sea, if he so much as heard another wave crash for a week he’d enter a migraine-induced frenzy.​

The sight of the derelict guild was bathed in superb light to the man, the hectic scene of members rushing to and fro filled his opportunistic soul with a ticking excitement. If this guild was as inept as everyone claimed, that meant those who worked there were likely to be the same. He kept his senses sharp about him, taking mental notes of the scene that stretched out before him.​

He had been right.​

Even hell on earth was better than the ocean.​

 

[HTCOR]

Hans Alister
​

Perhaps this day could have gone better. Perhaps it could have gone smoother. Alister really, really did not know. But there was a new galleon coming into port, one that he wasn't too familiar with. T'was around early morning, and he wasn't having the best of moods already. Their chef was cooking up a rather mean meal, as to prepare for the new meat to arrive- both in food format, and the new people format. Hopefully the two didn't get mixed up- it would make for a rather awkward meal, to say the least.

But he would pause. What was he forgetting? He'd asked Celica to help out- wait, where was Ryder?

His stone green eyes traveled towards the entrance, noticing a man in a damned...thong. "...Thrice damn my life." He'd say, sighing. Maybe he'd murder Ryder at some point, but...considering they were the only two holding this guild together? Wasn't worth trying, at the least. Most of the folks were, well. Passed out from a hangover still, and he needed to clean up the mess that was infesting this entire place.

His pace was slow, as he rubbed his eyes. The cleaning process would take a bit, as the warring went on throughout the recreational area. A stray bullet echoed throughout the room, causing the fighting to stop- and Alister took a moment to look through the room. Where did that- oh. He fired that, as to get their attention. "Get ship-shape, pull yourselves together, and get ready for the new recruits. Otherwise, we'll be steamrolled- again. And you'll have to deal with me, or Ryder. And Ryder's in the 'no pants' mood again, so. Choice is a little easy." He'd barely manage a strained smile, as he spread his arms out wide- down a bullet already. He hated using them, but they were great for grabbing attention.

Hopefully? The members who still moved about, were going to listen for once. Hopefully.

Interacting: Order NPCs, Celica, Ryder (somewhat)
Mentioned: TheImmortalDeity

 

[youngmanrhys]

Cain Nocgiun​

It had been months since he boarded this robust ship back in his homeland, and how lucky he was that this band of pirates seemed to be making their way toward Cuba. Though, perhaps that was just how fortunate one such a man named Cain Nocgiun was - a stubborn fool most would call him; a great emphasis upon the fool. Even these lowly pirates thought of him as mad for his reasoning for embarking on such a cruel journey. Then again, maybe it was that passion he bore that swayed Captain Culver over in the first place.

The South African man was seen slightly hunched over the bow railing with a salty-scented breeze brushing his coffee-colored cheeks. He was smiling fervently and simply enjoying nature’s own gifts; from the cawing of pale seagulls that resonated almost harmoniously with the gentle crashing of waves that smacked against the ship’s hull, to the perfect blend of sky blue hues intertwining with the sun’s beading rays of heat - it was an utterly breathtaking view for him to behold.

Cain’s nut brown eyes peered especially at the approaching land of Cuba before him, the mighty vessel he road on approaching steadily towards a port city where an array of other boats were docked; some merchant and some bearing symbols that were foreign to the young adventurer. However his peace was quickly disrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps beckoning from behind him - and as if that wasn’t enough, a hearty slap to the steel shield that was strapped tightly to his back. By the Gods, he had almost keeled over and plummeted into the sea from it.

His calloused hand raised to adjust the gold-painted weapon a bit more comfortably after it had been so suddenly shifted out of place, and once that action had ceased; moved up and into the silky strands of his mocha hair to scratch a slight itch. A woman dressed in baggy clothing strolled up to his right; such attire was quite deceiving to one who only looked at her surface features - most men didn’t even notice how toned and muscular she actually was. It was made evident by the skull upon her leather hat that she was the none other than the Captain.

“Hah! So that’s Cuba, innit? It’s a bit smaller than I anticipated it to be, don’tcha’ think Black Bear?” She spoke in a rather gruff accent, her yellow-painted fangs bearing themselves to the world; an arm quickly wrapped itself around his broad shoulders. “But this is where we’ve been rowin’ fer so damn to reach. Almos’ unbelievable we’re in reach.”

Cain scanned over her bronze colored skin for a moment, and slowly raised his view to meet her umber eyes. Captain Culver was the only one who advocated for accompanying her crew over these unforgiving waters - he owed her everything. After all, if it weren’t for her; he would never have gotten so close to his inspiration for adventuring in the first place.

“Aye, Miss Captain. This view only makes it even more beautiful, as if it is some premonition for where my journey truly begins.” Cain would say, his tone of voice unsurprisingly optimistic. “I am only saddened we’ll be partin’ ways once we board the dock.”

“Hah! Miss me now will ya Black Bear? Auntie Culver appreciates that more than ya think, ya damned dog!” Culver guffawed, but once her laughter finished she continued with her words. “... Though, I’d be a lyin’ searat if I didn’t say I wouldn’t miss ya company as well. Ya’ve been an amazin’ help ‘ese past few months.”

“I am glad I could do something besides shield you from rain with Sanguine. Just I never imagined traveling at sea to be so much work…”

“Well Black Bear! That’s what makes it so damned fun! Ya earn yer rewards, and every trip at sea is a new adventure. Issa’ shame ya won’t be stayin’ wit’ me any longer, but make sure ya keep in touch ya hear?”

Cain nodded, then flashed her a pearly smile. “Aye! Will do, Cap’n.”

-

It was only about another hour’s ride before Captain Culver’s ship reached the the port city of Cuba, and even from his position on the boat; Cain could tell that the city itself was rather… quaint and quiet. It was rather peculiar, but he paid it no mind - for he had one destination in mind after all.
Once they had officially anchored and docked Culver’s ship - The Camellia, veteran of the brine - Cain soon found himself surrounded by the entire crew he had ventured with for so long. All of the damned scurvy dogs had come to see him off before he parted from them for possibly the last time. Although the prideful African would never admit it… he was quite touched.

“Oy! Black Bear! Ya thought ya was jus’ gon’ leave wit’out sayin’ g’bye to yer mates?!”

“Harsh! Too harsh! We bled together, ate together, and slept together on this very deck! Ya can’t jus’... up n’ leave, ya hear?!”

It wasn’t long before their chatter grew too loud and rambunctious for him to even make out the words they were saying. However when Captain Culver came out from the lower deck, all the men fell silent; a few audible *gulps* were heard. She truly was the strongest of them all, and each of them fell in line to answer to her with no question at all. In the inner depths of his mind, Cain Nocgiun wondered if he could ever command a crew with such leadership and have them answer in turn with respect.

“Now then, Cain! Our prized Black Bear! We bid you farewell for now, and many, many blessings from the Sea itself upon your endeavors!” Culver would exclaim, and then suddenly made a dash for the man. When she was in arm’s reach, she embraced him in a tight hug; albeit only for a few seconds before pushing him backward and nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Now go! This ship is only fer crew members of The Camellia! Don’t ya come back till ya business is done.” She turned her back to him for the last time, though he would never forget the very last phrase she uttered from her pale, pink lips. “... Take care of yerself, Cain Nocgiun.”

One wouldn’t have to be an intelligent scholar to decipher the true meaning behind what she said, and it was something he held onto securely in his memory. A memory that would drive him from now on to be the very best that he could be, and prove to not only himself; but to her and his family that he was capable of so much more.
Cain shifted his body away himself, and hopped onto the wooden pier. There was nothing that could tear down his jovial mood at all right now - nothing in the slightest. As the lofty man made his merry way down the path to the guild’s house, he let a few breathless words slip silently from his lips.

“... Here I come, The Order.”

 

[Mistborn]

Ezavis Leophine

Location: Front of guild house
Interacting: Ru’Hara, Ryder, Asako
Mentions: Asa Loko TheImmortalDeity Foxu

A fucking tropical island... of course it was, why wouldn’t her last chance to be in a guild be stationed in one of the sunniest parts of the world? Needless to say, the half-vampire half-elf known as Eza was rather displeased with the situation she had put herself in, but she didn’t have much of a choice anymore. This was the lowest of the guilds, and the reputation it held was less than ideal, but it would have to do. The heat on the trip over wasn’t entirely pleasant either, eventually forcing her to remove the outer layers she usually wears. Down to lighter colored silky clothes in shades of purple and blue, Eza still refused to remove the ashen black mantle from her person, and with the hood up to shield her facial features her upper shoulders felt like they were going to melt before this journey would finally be over. A combination of a light sun umbrella and staying below deck for the majority of the trip had managed to help with this to a small degree, but for the trip to shore she could immediately feel the harsh sun irritating her skin.

Paired up with a rather peculiar looking Lepidot for the dingy ride to the beach Eza felt a little sorry for the moth-man, the darker colors of his skin and clothes must have left him feeling like he was burning alive. Unintentionally following his example, Eza unfurled her personal umbrella to shield herself from the suns rays for the time being, managing to keep out of the way of this, seemingly, rather upset individual for being out on the water. She wondered who else they might encounter at this bottom-tier guild, the one she was currently with didn’t particularly seem like the type to know such things, at the moment more concerned with their personal wellbeing, so instead of inquiring Eza let her mind wander for the journey to shore.

Coming back to her senses as the boat bumped and gradually grinded to a stop on the beach, she waited for the other passenger to exit before attempting it herself, giving a small wave and quiet thanks to the still speechless ship-hand who had brought the pair to the island. Keeping her equipment in tow and umbrella above her for the time being, displaying her sheathed feather fighting dagger at her side to dissuade those with any stupid ideas, there was really only one thing on her mind as she made the trek to the guild house. At least I can get out of this god forsaken sun soon.

As she laid eyes on the guild hall proper for the first time, Eza was rather unsurprised at the current state of affairs. It was a ramshackle mess compared to the other guild houses, with a nearly naked man and a woman in wild-west attire standing at the front. If anything she knew was right the man was a Pactborn, and was supposed to be the one in charge of the guild, fantastic. Although she was concerned at this mans choice in dress, she couldn’t help but think of another reason for him to be doing so as she approached. A hand pretending to shield her eyes from the sun shielding them from something much worse at the moment. Is this supposed to be some kind of hazing routine? Aren’t they trying to get people to join, rather than scaring them off? While these were questions she would have asked at some point, the slow burn of sunlight forced a more direct question out of the dampyr. “Excuse me sir, are you the guild master for The Order?” Eza’s airy elven accent blended with her Western European descendancy, emphasizing the more formal tone she was using in the situation to draw the mans attention as she readjusted her sun umbrella and lowered her cloaks hood.

 

[metalcity]

Sir Boris Macgyver The Third

Ah the seas, what a wonderful place where no-one can hear you scream (unless they are also at sea and pretty close to you). However for Boris is was not a wonderful place, it was actually the complete opposite! He despised the sea, and not only because it was blue! No, there was a bigger, better, stronger reason why mister Boris would murder the sea if there was any possible way. What is this reason? you may or may not be thinking this. Well, the reason he hates the sea so much is boats. Boats make Boris literally sick, like right now he is hanging over the side giving the fish last nights dinner, and it was a very good dinner might I add, so they are in for a treat. This wasn't any ordinary sick though, this was fright sick! Boris had a weird fear of boats that's always been with him since he read the horror book "what do boats do? do boats do things? Lets find out!" where a killer boat terrorises a small town. And now Boris refuses to get on them, except for this time. But only because he was on some strong (possible illegal) stuff before getting on, and with no way to bail this is his life now.

"A'right ye big coont, ye think ye can restrict me to the seas? I don't think so ye bastard!" Boris yelled as he equipped his trusty frying pan and started to attack the ships floor, he let out a 10 hit combo to that floor but who know boats were pan resistant! Horror grew on Boris's face when suddenly he started to get knocked around as the ship made it to shore. "Ye can take ma first born, but not me! Not alive!" Boris exclaimed as he proceeded to attack the ship. As Boris was attacking the poor innocent floor his head jolted up and he snorted a good snort (while still hitting the floor) before letting out a string of words he wasn't sure he would ever be able to say "I smell a land aboot." Boris jumped to his feet and legged it off the boat, not before giving the boat a few more good whacks.

After fleeing the newly dubbed "True Sea Terror" Boris sprinted around on the shore, skipping with glee at the feel of real solid ground and not that fake shit he's felt for however long its been. After finishing his celebratory dance Sir Boris Macgyver The Third turned to the boat and made a rather NSFW gesture in its direction while yelling "Fuck ye, ye fookin coont!" before turning and locating the guild he fought so hard to join. Which wasn't hard to find as it was like, right there. That was the point of the boat landing here so there wasn't much locating it really, unless looking up in one of the direction counts as locating. And so Boris's guild days were about to start as he made his was to the guild house.​