Spy Pirate Magical Assassin

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by furtwennty, Jul 11, 2015.

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  1. Pirates crave treasure, and the crew of The Hell Hound is no exception. However, the treasure these pirates seek is a bit ... different. Mythical gems, magical jewels, cursed silver and blessed weaponry; the treasure these thieves have acquired gives them an edge on any foe they happen to cross.

    Currently docked in Rocablanca, The Hell Hound has recently come upon a seemingly never ending bag of coins. Found in the hidden treasure cove of a ... recently deceased mage *cough cough* the small bag seems to be bottomless. Thus, the crew has docked to enjoy the newfound wealth.

    Character List | World Map??
     
    #1 furtwennty, Jul 11, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 11, 2015



  2. Emmaline Delahaye

    “The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles."
    -Christopher Paolini




    Emmaline leaned against a tall, wooden beam in the small tavern. She crossed her legs, glancing down for a moment to admire her new boots. After they had found the small, bottomless bag of gold coins, the captain had given each of them an overflowing handful. Emma lifted her head, a smirk on her lips as she looked on to her fellow shipmates, gleefully throwing their gold at the barmaids in exchange for pints, pitchers, even barrels full of rum.

    Before she had made her way to the tavern with the rest of the crew, Emma had stopped at a few shops where she purchased a few pieces of clothing, including her boots and a corset. The captain had said to treat themselves, and as long as the gold wouldn't run out, she figured there would be plenty left over for booze.

    She circled the rim of her mug lightly with her fingertips before taking a drink. The silver rings adorning her fingers glowing a dull red, almost pink, hue. She flexed her hand, looking at the jewelry and wondering what magic they contained.​
     
    #2 furtwennty, Jul 11, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 12, 2015
  3. Sid McGee

    "Hark, now hear the sailors cry, smell the sea, and feel the sky. Let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic...” ― Van Morrison



    By the gods' veiny throats! How much gold was in that tiny purse? Sid scowled into his emptied mug. He watched every purse, had cut one for his stale ale even, but he didn't think that one worth noticing. It could barely hold two sterling. Certainly it wasn't the same purse. That would be impossible. Such a thing didn't exist.

    He grumbled into his mug a moment longer before setting it down too close to the edge, dropping the cheap thing, letting it clang onto the floor. He hissed. If it broke, it'd be the eleventh mug he'd broken that month in this tavern.

    Sid let out a loud, hot breath and pushed into the counter, looking for an unattended mug. A fat man with tatters of greasy braids over his ears and nape was reaching to fondle one of the working girls. He drank the equally stale ale from his cup. It tasted like piss. He turned to the boy beside him, clearly too small to hold his own, and laughed at him.

    He had been kicked off of the Lilivus three days ago with his share of gold and treasure, but Sid had mistaken the two egg-like pieces for something worth a damn. Now he was likely to starve before he could find another ship to hop onto. Captain Lily wouldn't take him back - not after he incited a riot or two or five among the new crew members. Sid had actually liked Lily, had never heard of a female captain, let alone such a brilliant cog moving behind such a pretty noble face. He didn't like the Quarter Master, though, and there was nothing anyone was willing to do about the brute.

    There it was again! That coin purse! He trained his eye on it. How many tiny purses did that crew have? He was determined to watch, to find out where they got so much wealth from. Were they slave traders? There was hardly any money in that, and they didn't look like slave traders. What did slave traders look like? Well, probably not that. He expected more flogs or the like. He grumbled and looked for another empty mug.
     


  4. Emmaline Delahaye


    The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles." -
    Christopher Paolini



    Emmaline had been watching the large man harass the barmaids, a look of disgust on her face. The rosy glow of the rings adorning both hands began to iminate a strange warmth as her fingers tightened their grip around the now empty mug.

    She felt the cup bend beneath her grasp, dropping it out of surprise. Emmaline looked down at the mug, now indented with her hand prints. Her attention, again, turned to the enchanted rings on her fingers.

    'Super-strength, not bad.' She thought, clenching her fists as she turned her attention back
    to the fat man.

    However, another figure caught her eye. She watched them quickly swipe the booze of the large man and take a generous swig; an unpleasant experience Emmaline judged by the look on the young man's face. She was a little tipsy now, and couldn't hold back a laugh.

    Her attention was pulled away briefly, as one of her crew mates handed her a full mug of rum. As she turned back to the young man, she noticed his eyes following the same crew mate who had handed her the mug.

    'What is he looking at?' she wondered.

    Following the young man's gaze, Emma's eyes locked on the small, bottomless, coin purse attached to her shipmates belt. She frowned. Someone was on to their never ending wealth.

    Emma opened and closed her palms, feeling the strength of the enchanted rings surge through her.
     
  5. Sid McGee

    "Hark, now hear the sailors cry, smell the sea, and feel the sky. Let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic...” ― Van Morrison

    Sid snatched another mug, this one slightly fuller and sweeter, the owner half-asleep and groggily talking to a friend. He was feeling sufficiently giddy then. His stomach rumbled, half-angry and fully-starved. He stood and felt his legs wiggle as though he was on a boat.

    The lutist started a happy song, and couple started to spin with their arms interlocked. For once, it didn't look sappy or stupid to Sid. He considered snatching the girl and causing a ruckus. Instead, he followed the crowd that hesitantly moved to start dancing. He would look awful silly without a dancing partner, but he slipped his thumbs into his pockets and started to bounce and sway with the sliding notes.

    Perhaps the gold orb gave him the ability to dance. He laughed at the thought and then laughed at himself. There wasn't a chance. He looked over the room in search of some grub now that people were leaving their drinks and their food at their tables for the open floor. His eyes paused on a woman, probably older than him, with jewels and lovely clothes that were in one piece. She wasn't his type - fit, svelte - but he found her pleasant to look at anyway. His heart thumped with the mix of kleptomanic thrill, dancing, and perhaps the fun of looking at a pretty girl.​
     



  6. Emmaline Delahaye

    “The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles."
    -Christopher Paolini



    As the happy music filled the air, Emmaline watched the bar pair off to dance. She smiled, drunkenly swaying her hips as she looked longingly onto the couples.

    A fellow crew member, Sven - a tall, well built man with dark hair and eyes - nearly trampled the slender girl as he passed by. He quickly turned to face her, drunkenly stumbling in the process; he reeked of alcohol. The hulking man didn't speak much english, yet uttered a single word:

    "Dance?" His huge hand engulfing hers.

    Emmaline laughed, nodding and setting her drink on the table before letting the man lead her to the crowd of dancing, drunken pirates. Through her drunken haze, she couldn't help but feel someone's eyes on her. She turned, Sven still pulling her along, and, again, saw the young lad. This time, however, their eyes locked. She smiled, raising her hand to wave her decorated fingers teasingly at the boy, as if beckoning him to follow, to chase her. The rum had helped her to forget his prying eyes on their enchanted satchel of gold, but it hadn't made her any less willing to seize an opportunity to tantalize a member of the opposite sex.

    Laughing, Emma twirled around in front of Sven, and the two crew mates slipped into the crowd.​
     




  7. Captain William Abaddon

    'But the wicked are like the raging sea, which cannot rest, and the waves thereof cast up dirt and mire. There is no peace to the wicked, saith the Lord God.'
    -Isaias 57:20-21

    Clink. Clink. Clink. The dull, metal thud of sterling tapping the wooden banister was inaudiable above the music, and the less than sober inhabitants of the tavern. Silver talons, adorned with gleeming red rubies, rose from their perch to swipe a stray, white hair from their heritor's eyes

    The pair of blue-grey eyes surveyed the crowd from above, the man they belonged to situated on a private balcony, high above the drunks below.

    Captain William grinned devilishly; this newest addition to their enchanted collection had to be one of his greatest finds. Surely, the name William Abaddon would be on the lips of every pirate who sailed the bloody seas! The captain sat down heavily on a carved, wooden throne, near the edge of the balcony. Two beefy male guards, both loyal members of his crew, stood on either side of the wooden fixture, arms crossed and stone faced.

    The silver adorning the fingers of his left hand clinked softly as he silently beckoned a half naked barmaid to his side. She handed him a golden cup, filled with a generous amount of red wine. The barmaid began to back away, but not before the captain snatched her wrist and pulled her close, coaxing her onto his lap.

    His eyes never left the scene below, as he grazed the young woman's neck with his silver claws. She moaned softly, but he paid no mind. His eyes on the figures below.

     
    #7 furtwennty, Jul 16, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 16, 2015


  8. Sid McGee

    "Hark, now hear the sailors cry, smell the sea, and feel the sky. Let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic...” ― Van Morrison
    Sid twirled and swayed so that he was making his way toward the crew with the nice clothes and a pile of ale cups on their table. Certainly they wouldn't eat all of that food! He laughed and spun until he was near the wall, stepping on sticky wooden planks until he reached their table. Maybe they weren't drunk enough. He laughed and grabbed a girl, this one his age, and spun her around with one hand and snatched a trencher with greasy, hot chicken behind his back with the other. The girl laughed, and he bowed as he stumbled away. Perfect.

    He moved away from the crew, tapping his step, laughing with a mouth full of chicken as he danced. He was never good at eating and dancing, and he was especially bad at either task when we was drunk, but it was still hot, and he didn't want his face to be clobbered when someone realized the food had disappeared.

    He thought about asking the pretty girl to dance. She seemed to be good at it, at least in his drunken stupor, and he could ask her where she got all the pretty jewels. Sid finished the chicken, dropped the trencher, wiped the grease off his face with his sleeve, and moved toward her. Before he could even meet her eyes again, he slammed into her husky dancing partner so hard that he bit his tongue.
     


  9. Rowena of the Storms

    "How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean." - Arthur C. Clarke

    Rowena stood atop the quarterdeck of the Lilivus with her arms crossed over her bodiced belly. The air was sticky with a coming storm, and the air was hotter than the devil's mouth. She didn't mind it. Her mind was sharp, focused, searching.

    Below the new hired crew of the Lilivus were searching through crates. They thought they were alone. She was dark-haired and of darker complexion, a result of years in the sun, and stalking came easy to the merc. She didn't like this new crew. The captain was a brilliant woman, and Rowena had learned more from her than she had in all her years at the private girls' school in Ireland. How the captain could hire these slimy liverwarts was beyond her.

    She didn't know where the boys from the original crew had gone, and she didn't care at the moment. Right now, she wanted to slide her sword between the ribs of each of these thieves, to skewer them like the rats in Shanghai and roast them over a pit.

    The tavern nearby was still bright and loud, even as the moon sank over the town. Rowena had considered rolling over a few drunks and talking among the locals. Perhaps there was a better crew that could use her skills - and could protect her booty better than these fish lice. She didn't want to be associated with these scoundrels that had joined the same day she had.

    But then, she could kill them, and then that would partially take care of the issue at hand.

    She decided against leaping onto another failing ship. The morons below had opened a barrel of oranges and were eating away at the reserves. One even threw a slightly limp orange into the ocean nearby. Okay then. Her mind was made.

    She didn't touch the sword at her hip. Instead, she laid three pistols from her hips and boot on the railing and loaded them. With the small exception of a click as metal met metal, she was silent. There were four thieves and three guns. Excellent odds for Rowena. She picked off the farthest target and the clumbering moron who'd tossed the orange first. By then, the last two realized what was happening. She picked off the third thief before he could move. The fourth hid behind the barrel and ducked. Rowena grinned, unsheathed her sword, and stepped down.

    He rolled the barrel at her with a kick and lifted his own gun, fumbling to load it. Rowena had not expected that. She didn't care. She removed a throwing knife from her bodice and thew it, landing the blade in the hollow of his collar. The last thief gurgled blood as he fell atop spilled oranges, making a ghastly stench of citrus, iron, blood, and piss.

    Well, now she really should get off the ship. She was careful not to step in the mess, but she did snatch their coin purses and a ring from the first moron. She gasped as it seemed to glow for a moment. Certainly it was a reflection from the quarter moon. Rings did not glow. She put it out of her mind and strode toward the music and glowing windows.
     
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