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s-o-starscream · 3 years ago

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Greetings, I hope you're having a good day! Addressing these to the mods, I just wanted to start this askbox off beginning with what roles do the characters star in this universe? And where exactly does the story begin in the plotline?

Gonna take this opportunity to show off all the characters alive at the start of the story, as well as a quick rundown of who they are.

First off, the story begins the moment Starscream wakes up after his execution, and discovers his newfound immortality. He returns to Megatron as his First Mate, but is disillusioned with his leadership now. Thus begin your usual Starscream schenanigans.

Anyways here’s the more or less important cast members:

Decepticons:

-Megatron: Captain of the Nemesis and all around bastard. Former gladiator of Kaon before taking to the seas.

-Starscream: Megatron’s First Mate, bestowed with the gift of immortality by Primus, though this is kept a secret from everyone. Formerly a Navy Commander, along with his late brothers, Skywarp and Thundercracker. Grew up in the Northern city-state of Vos.

-Soundwave: Megatron’s Second Mate, head of communications and messenger. Has a parrot named Lazerbeak. Hard of Hearing and nonvocal. Former gladiator of Kaon.

-Knockout: Ship’s doctor and carpenter. Takes great care of his appearance, also has a wooden leg. Childhood sweethearts with Breakdown, formerly a slum kid.

-Breakdown: Heavy hitter of the crew and Knockout’s assistant. Former construction worker of the Wrecker clan.

-Shockwave: Crew’s scientist and former councilor of Kaon. Was subjected to a lobotomy that stunted his emotions, causing him to run solely on logic.

-Dreadwing: Most often mans the canons. A former Navy Officer like Starscream, places a great deal of importance on honor. Resents Starscream due to him getting his twin Skyquake killed. Also native to Vos.

Autobots:

-Optimus Prime: Captain of the Autobot ship, the Omega, a privateer crew loosely employed by the Navy. Formerly an archivist of Iacon and ex-partner of Megatron.

-Ratchet: The ship’s medic and first mate, and Optimus’ current fiancé. Wealthy background allowed him to get a proper education in a medical academy, a rarity among the seafarers.

-Bulkhead: Former Wrecker and heavy hitter of the crew. Was friends with Breakdown back in the day, until they had a falling out. Good with kids.

-Wheeljack: Former Wrecker and self-taught explosives expert, more often than not a lone wolf. Only joins with the crew occasionally, usually off doing his own thing.

-Arcee: Most agile of the crew, though equally hotheaded. Former Navy Soldier.

-Cliffjumper: Arcee’s partner in crime, was placed under her command in the Navy. A real jokester.

-Bumblebee: Young Autobot Scout, was very talkative. Now a mute, due to Megatron cutting out his tongue.

-Smokescreen: Former child prodigy, ego a bit too big for his boots. Studied under Alpha Trion, like Optimus did in his youth.

-Jack: Arcee’s apprentice, joined the crew as a stowaway.

-Rafael: Bumblebee’s little brother, highly intelligent but timid. Grew up with him in an orphanage.

-Miko: Rambunctious kid who joined the crew to deliver a message to her Aunt. Very keen on sticking around, after quickly befriending Bulkhead. Grew up in Vos.

Navy Officers:

-Sentinel Prime

-Ultra Magnus

-William Fowler

-Prowl

Unaffiliated:

-Windblade: Vosian Ambassador and diplomat, and Miko’s Aunt. Former temple disciple and childhood friend of Starscream.

-Chromia: Traveling merchant and Windblade’s wife, often accompanies her on voyages.

-Nautica: Windblade’s bodyguard, travels with the spouses on the open sea.

-Slipstream: Starscream’s cousin, one of Vos’ current leaders.

-Airachnid: Spider-like Sea Witch, commands a hive of aquatic Insecticons and often creates morbid art pieces out of living things.

-Rodimus Prime: Chosen Captain of the Lost Light, a deific ghost ship that ferries lost souls to Heaven or Hell. Crew is composed of dead sailors with unfinished business.

-Skyfire: Starscream’s childhood lover, traveling researcher and scientist. Disappeared shortly after Starscream joined Megatron’s crew.

More characters do exist but are not part of the main story, so they are not mentioned here.

#ask #pirate bay au #tfp #mod toon #transformers au #humanformers

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whirlybirdwhat · 4 years ago

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Skyjacks fic!!! Word count: 1.5k

a name, a name, a chance

- A name is something given, and a name is something taken.

Or: a reflection on the characters and names of the crew of the Uhuru - or at least, the Captain's and his council's.

A name. Did they have it before the stars fell?

Maybe.

They aren’t sure. They have it now, two of them, one they aren’t sure when they earned, and the other chosen entirely by them.

The first.

Gable. Ga-Ble. God is bright, it whispers in quiet moments. God is bright. God is blinding.

(God is dead dead dead dead dead burned and scorned and destroyed by their own blade, the blade that gable drove through their heart, the act that made the world collapse and the seas rise and they are dead - fallen - forever)

It weighs like a stone on their shoulders. God is bright. God is blinding. God is dead.

Does it mean they are now the blinding one? The bright one? They don’t feel like it, no matter how much holy fire leaps from their swords and casts glowing light over their face. They are just… Gable.

Fallen. Wandering.

(Gable.)

It’s no wonder that they are more comfortable with the name they chose for themself - the name they picked on a whim, on a moment, all by their lonesome.

Skyjack.

A sailor. A sailor who steals from ships, who hijacks them and takes them from their own. A sailor from the skies, free and limitless, whose horizon knows no bounds but the sun and clouds.

As a Skyjack, Gable is not fallen.

As a Skyjack, Gable is not bright.

As a Skyjack - Gable is free, from every duty but to their crew and captain, and that is more fitting than anything they could ever dare to be.

Gable Skyjack.

Perhaps, in time, they could come to like their name.

A name. He’s had many. Travis Mattagot, Jolly Jack, Kevin, Puck and Neville, Johnny and Connor - names that flow past his ears like water, each more unimportant than the past.

He likes the names. He like at the constant change, the constant new assumptions, always being what he isn’t but also what he is.

(A changeling, never the same body, never the same form, born over and over and over again. Suppose a name could be like that too.)

Puns, lilting off the tongue.

His Current is one of his favorites - Travis, according to some far away islands, meaning to cross. It stings in all the worst ways, reminding him of his failures, how he could cross but Margret couldn’t, and how now, he always fails to cross into the next life. A failure, is what he is, horrible and ancient and Travis.

(He likes it. The way it gives itself to snarls of rage only spoken by close friends, personal and horrible and wonderful. Travis. To cross. To traverse. All he couldn’t and could do at once. Wonderfully confusing.)

And, of course, who could forget Mattagot, the name of a beast, a spirit, helpful and hindrance, one that brings fortune and agony and in the same. A warning. A threat. All cursed by his enemies as they shouted Mattagot and prepared to kill but never quite succeeded.

Obvious, like a bent card in a deck, but only if you were looking for it.

Perfection, in a name.

(Of course, though, it isn’t real. A pretend, a fake, a mirage, smothering and covering up the name William that only was spoken when there were gambles to be made. He likes who Travis is - the skyjack, with friends and crew and triumphs.

William is… William is supposed to mean warrior. Protector. Strong willed.

Travis isn’t William. He could never be. William could never be William.

Travis is just a fraud. A fake. Lasting one more day on a gamble and a debt and oh, if it doesn’t sting sometimes.)

He wants to be Travis. He wants to make Travis real.

He just hopes he can.

A name. Jonnit is a name without a meaning, and it’s just the way Jonnit likes it. A black slate, a way to grow, room to grow, destiny forgotten in the face of something new. With nothing telling him who he is, or who he could be, just a chance to be Jonnit.

Whoever Jonnit would be.

His parents liked to tell the story sometimes, of how they kept scratching out the names of their firstborn, looking for something fitting, something perfect for their child, their son their AnikBasrDrishSim-unnamed child.

Then, like magic, they had asked -

Asked…

Well, Jonnit didn’t know who they asked, probably unimportant, he’s forgotten about, but they came up with Jonnit on the spot.

Like magic, they say, and suddenly Jonnit has a name without a fate,

A chance to be who he wants.

And that’s really the trouble isn’t it? He wants to be so many things - feels like he should be so many kings, so many fates, that it’s hard to choose. Stowaway, cabin boy, apprentice, lookout, star watcher, seer, bird racer, Captain’s council, Jonnit, Jonnit, Jonnit -

It’s so much sometimes. So, so much, when compared to Gable, who’s gentle smile seems to shine when they’re happy for once, and Travis’ seems so confident spouting what he’s not.

They know who they are.

Jonnit wishes he knows who he was.

(Except, he does, doesn’t he? He just isn’t him yet. Right now, he’s Jonnit, the cabin boy. He’s Jonnit, the star watcher. But someday -

Someday he’ll be Jonnit, star in the sky, captain of a fleet of golden sails that shine like angel fire. He’ll be Jonnit the Starcatcher, Jonnit the Captain, Jonnit, the greatest Skyjack since Orimar Vale, stronger even, freer even, so strong as to help the Jonnit of the past rather than just the present.

He’s not him yet. It’s pressure, so much pressure to live up to him when he’s just Jonnit now, small and young and just starting to know what he’s doing but -

He just wishes he was.)

He will, soon.

He knows this, like how he knows the name Jonnit spreads throughout Burza Nyth and the Liquid Swords and Nordia and N’Goni, back home and through the sky.

He’ll get there.

He just can’t wait.

A name. Dref Wormwood is an odd name, but a comforting one. It’s soft and able to be spoken without a stutter, and gains looks of oh, odd name, rather than oh, I know that name.

It is a comfort, because it is not him, or who he was. It is not Alistair Youngblood, heir to a red-ridden name. It is not Alister Youngblood, born to cruelty.

It is not who he was.

(Alistair, his family calls, and it is mocking, it is horrible, Alistair Youngblood – Dref could go a hundred years without hearing it and be happy.

But yet, like all things out in the open air, it isn’t to be.)

It is not who he was, but it is who he will be. Dref Wormwood, doctor of the Uhuru. Dref Wormwood, necromancer of Orimar Vale.

Dref Wormwood friend.

It makes him smile to hear it said, ever since Orimar sounded it out that first time. A blessing. A chance. A name.

His name.

Who he is.

It’s an odd name, but a comfort, because Dref means nothing at all, unlike the regal defender or repeller of Alistair, and Wormwood is a star and a plant and a remedy and a poison, while Youngblood is just a legacy. It’s his name. His choice. His comfort.

(When he dies, his crew does not say Alistair Youngblood. They say Dref Wormwood, friend and crewmate.

Even in the afterlife, the beyond, it makes Dref smile.)

A comfort, yes.

A name. The name Orimar is a good name. A strong name. A name that means a thousand things across a thousand islands, but a good name nonetheless.

(It’s a remnant of a culture forgotten, a culture lost, but Orimar clings tight and does not let it go, because he more than a man, more than a Skyjack.

He is a corsair, and corsairs are as greedy as they are free. He keeps his name and he keeps his home, because he will take the skies and home alike if it means keeping what he holds dear. He will be King. He will be Orimar, boy of something long ago.

Of this, he is certain.)

But Orimar Vale is a feared name, a terrifying name, one that strikes horror into his enemies’ hearts and makes knees and arms and everything shake.

Orimar Vale, captain of the Uhuru - freedom, sailing in the air. Orimar Vale, the man who will be king. Orimar Vale, lover of the Bandit Queen.

Orimar Vale, immortal in legacy and now in body.

Orimar Vale is a name that will not be stopped.

(Even if there are moments where he shakes, where he reaches out, where he takes a pause on his steps to power to shelter orphans young and old, people lost and alone, gathering them on his piece of freedom and helping them Take Flight.

He will pause, because he wants o be King, because he wants Power, but also because he wants to protect what is his.

And he cannot do that without being human to.)

It is name, a legend, that will echo across the skies, even when people say there are no kings, because Orimar Vale is more than a king.

He is a captain.

And that, perhaps, place in front of Orimar Vale, is the best name of all.

#skyjacks #skyjacks fanfiction #campaign skyjacks #campaign podcast #whirlywhat #gable #gable skyjacks #travis mattagot #dref wormwood #dref #jonnit #jonnit kessler #OH MY GOD I FORGOT JONNIT HAD A LAST NAME whelp to late now oop #orimar vale #whirlywrites

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ltwilliammowett · 5 years ago

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Captain James Cook

James Cook was born in 1728, the son of a Yorkshire labourer, and was largely self educated. He went to sea as an apprentice in the east coast coal trade in 1746. In 1755 he joined the Navy as an able Seaman, but with his natural aptitude for mathematics by july 1757 he had been promoted to master in the Solebay. In 1759 he was master of the Pembroke in the assault on Quebec, when he distinguished himself by his survey of the St Lawrence River, which enabled the big ships of the fleet to ascend it - the first to do so.

James Cook, by Nathaniel Dance-Holland, 1776

After the end of the Seven Years war in 1763, Cook spent five years surveying the Newfoundland coast in his on Schooner, the Grenville. His observations of an eclipse of the sun in 1766 impressed the Royal Society who appointed him an official observer for an expedition to Tahiti to record observations of the transit of the planet Venus across the face of the sun. The expedition was then to go on and search for the continent Terra Australia Incognita, believed to exist in the South.

"A General Chart of the Island of Newfoundland with the rocks and soundings… By James Cook and Michael Lane Surveyors". Published by Thomas Jefferys in 1775

Cook now promoted to Lieutenant, sailed from Plymouth on 25 August 1768 I the Whitby collier "cat" Endeavour. He had no chronometer, although John Harrison had by then produced the first reliable timepiece, but calculated his longitude accurately by measuring the angular distance between the Moon and a fixed star. Endeavour reached Tahiti in April 1769 without a single case of scurvy, the result of Cook's attention to his ship's cleanliness below decks, and to his sailors diet, which included pickled cabbage and orange juice. The Tahitians greeted Cook and his ships with great hospitality, although he was irritated by their constant thieving.

A view in Matavai Bay, Tahiti, by John Clevely 1787

The transit of Venus was duly recorded on Saturday 3 June 1769, and Cook went on across the Pacific, charted the coast of New Zealand, showing it to be two separate islands, and the eastern coast of Australia, and returned to England in July 1771.

Promoted Commander, Cook was given command of two more Whitby cats, the Resolution and the Adventure, and sailed on July 1772 for a second voyage in which he finally proved that a habitable continent in the South Pacific did not exist. In January 1773, he became the first navigator to cross the Antarctic circle.

The ice islands, seen the 9th of Janry., 1773, by William Hodges 1744-1797

When the Resolution arrived at Portsmouth on 29 July 1775, Cook was promoted post captain, and elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. In June 1776, he sailed again, with the Resolution and another Whitby cat, the Discovery, on a voyage to the north west coast of America. In January 1778 Cook discovered the Polynesian-inhabited Hawaiian group of islands he named the Sandwich Islands, in honour of the First Lord of the Admiralty, the Earl of Sandwich. Cook sailed north through the Bering Strait as far as the ice would let him and then returned to the Sandwich Islands in January 1779 to refit. He was treated by the natives as a Polynesian god. But entertaining a greatly strained local resources and Cook’s departure in February 1779 was greeted with relief.

Views in the South Seas: A View of Huaheine- The Resolution and Discovery off Hawaii, by John Clevely II 1788

Unfortunately, Resolution sprung her foremast two days later, Cook had to return for repairs, his god like reputation shattered, to be met by intense hostility. After the theft of a ship’s boat, Cook went ashore to take one of the local chiefs hostage against the boat’s return. But a large mob had gathered, who stabbed him to death before his marine bodyguard could drive them off.

Death of Captain Cook, by John Clevely II

It was a miserable end for a man who had raised what would become the science of hydrography to a high plane of meticulous accuracy. From now on, the Admiralty would accept nothing less than James Cook’s standard of chart-making.

#naval history #the expeditions of captain james cook #1768-1779 #long post #sorry #age of sail

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fallen-starlight · 4 years ago

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Fallen Starlight character races

SPOILERS UNDER CUT

Kirby: Kiridian-Termina hybrid

Void: Kiridian-Termina hybrid

King Dedede: Penglingu (a race of human-like penguins. They only have some feathers and penguin abilities)

Meta Knight: Demon Beast-Kiridian hybrid

Bandee: Waddle Dee

Marx: Noddy

Gooey: Dark Matter

Rick: Anthro hamster

Kine: Merfolk with both legs and tail

Coo: Anthro Owl

Adeleine: Human

Ribbon: Fairy

Dameta: Mirror Kiridian-Demon Beast hybrid

Daroach: Anthro rat

Magolor: Halcandran

Taranza: Secti (Floralia's main specie)

Susie: Cyborg

Francisca: Ice Mage

Flamberge: Fire Mage

Zan Partizanne: Lightning Mage

Galacta Knight: Kiridian

Morpho Knight: Reaper in the likeness of a Kiridian

Papi: Apprentice Reaper in the likeness of a Kiridian

Sir Arthur: Kiridan

Sir Blizzard: Kiridan

Sir Dragato: Kiridan

Sir Nonsurat: Kiridan

Sir Falspar: Kiridan

Sir Jecra: Elf

Lady Garlude: Half Elf

Knuckle Joe: Elf

Sirica: Half Elf, Half Cappy

Fumu: Cappy

Bun: Cappy

Prince Fluff: Kiridian subspecie

Claycia: Sculptress Mage

Elline: Artist Fairy

Gryll: Witch

Sectonia: Secti

Spinni: Squeak

Doc: Squeak

Storo: Squeak

Captain Vul: Anthro Avian

Sailor Dee: Waddle Dee

Sword Knight: Half Elf

Blade Knight: Half Elf

Javelin Knight: Android

Mace Knight: Half Cyclops

Axe Knight: Lich

Trident Knight: Samurai Ghost that possess his old armor

Shadow Kirby: Mirror Kiridian

Shadow Dedede: Mirror Penglingu

Nova: Clockwork Star

Star Dream: Clockwork Star

Max Haltmann: Cyborg

Drawcia: Artist Sorceress

Paintra: Artist Sorceress

Zero: Alpha Dark Matter

ZeroTwo: Alpha Dark Matter

Miracle Matter: Dark Matter

DMS: Dark Matter

Dark Nebula: Dark Matter

Dark Crafter: Unknown, identifies as 35, he/they, male, asexual

Dark Mind: Dark Matter

Dark Rimuro: Dark Matter

Dark Rimuru: Dark Matter

Dark Rimura: Dark Matter

Necrodeus: Lich Reaper

Nightmare: Demon

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kwanisms · 5 years ago

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To the Sky Profiles 04

Age: 28

Place of Birth: Chalcedony

Social Class: lower, pirate

Height: 5’7” (171 cm)

Personality: perceptive, street smart, charming, headstrong, stubborn, a bit sadistic

Skills/Talents: skilled pilot, hand to hand combat, gambling

Likes: money, pirating, his crew, Han Boreum

Dislikes: his father, his mother, his aristocratic half-siblings

Goals/Ambitions: to become the captain of the most feared pirate crew

Strengths: his ship is one of the fastest in the world and he uses this to his advantage, blackmail

Weaknesses: his crew

Fears: losing his ship and crew

Occupation: Captain of the Double Knot

Short Bio: Bang Chan, also called Chris sometimes, is the captain of the Double Knot. He is the illegitimate son of Bang Min-hyuk and his mistress, making him the half brother of Min-ah and Min-ho, a relation he is aware of. He came to be the captain of his ship when he got lucky and bought her for an extremely low price. He then enlisted the help of his best friend Felix to fix the ship and restore her. Once the ship was in working condition, Chan and Felix searched for a crew, finding Changbin and Jeongin together and brought them aboard. Chan met Han in Chalcedony during school but got to know him in an underground fight club.

Age: 25

Place of Birth: Leadporte

Social Class: lower, pirate

Height: 5’7” (171 cm)

Personality: smart, ambitious, polite, has a very sweet side to him but rarely shows it

Skills/Talents: negotiating, climbing, fastest runner in the crew, counting cards

Likes: gambling, drinking, freedom, strawberry pie, beautiful women he has to try hard to get, picking on Jeongin

Dislikes: the cold, arguments, deals gone south, being cheated out of a deal

Goals/Ambitions: become as good of a dealer as Seonghwa (all pirates know how good Seonghwa is)

Strengths: his ambition, hand to hand combat, his ability to speak four languages (all self-taught)

Weaknesses: the crew, the ship

Fears: losing his freedom, execution

Occupation: first-mate, negotiator

Short Bio: Felix was born in Leadporte, the son of a foreman. His father died when he was a child leaving him and his mother alone in the city. His mother remarried after some time and his step father was a miner but a much better man than his birth father. He worked hard to make sure Felix would have a better life than his current one. Felix left Leadporte to attend school in the capital where he met Han and, by extension, Christopher Bang. Felix befriended the older man, despite their 5 year age gap. The three were inseparable, hanging outside of school together. When Chris bought the Double Knot, the three of them chose to abandon school and start a pirate crew.

Age: 25

Place of Birth: Chalcedony

Social Class: aristocratic, pirate

Height: 5’7” (169 cm)

Personality: courageous, cunning, fast-thinker, knowledgeable, charismatic, sweet-talker

Skills/Talents: fighting, swordplay, knows how to use a knife, good at playing cards

Likes: gambling, beautiful women, drinking, stargazing, dak galbi with cheese, picking on Jeongin with Felix

Dislikes: vegetables, losing a fight, losing a bet, rejection

Goals/Ambitions: become the best fighter in the underground fight club

Strengths: physical strength, card counting, intimidation

Weaknesses: beautiful women, the dak galbi Seungmin makes, his sister

Fears: losing the crew or ship, losing his sister

Occupation: second-mate, combat specialist

Short Bio: Jisung was born in Chalcedony like his older sister, Boreum. The two enjoyed a privileged upbringing where they received the best education. After his sister was married off to an old count and she moved to Arcadia, Jisung decided he didn’t want to live the aristocratic lifestyle anymore. He and the friends he made in school (Bang Chan and Felix) decided to drop out of school and become pirates. Going by his family name, Han, he started to gain notoriety in the underground fight clubs in various cities where people began to learn his name and the reputation that followed it. After travelling with the Double Knot for a few years, he ended up in Arcadia where he ran into his sister, now an extremely wealthy widow. She welcomed him into her home, also welcoming his friends and the rest of the crew. He knows about his sister’s intimate relations with his friend and Captain and he encourages it.

Age: 27

Place of Birth: Emberton

Social Class: middle, pirate

Height: 5’8” (172)

Personality: agreeable, clever, guarded, patient, realistic

Skills/Talents: skilled as a pilot, extremely knowledgeable about stars and landmarks

Likes: astronomy, flying, freedom, the crew, being a pirate, the quiet of the night, reading

Dislikes: loudness, drunkenness, not being able to read his books, being interrupted

Goals/Ambitions: to become the best navigator in the world and discover new places no one has seen

Strengths: superior navigational skills, astronomy, hand to hand combat

Weaknesses: the crew, the ship, his mother and brother

Fears: losing his family and crew, execution, imprisonment

Occupation: third mate, navigator

Short Bio: Minho was born and raised in Emberton. His father, a sky sailor, died when he was a child and his mother, a well known seamstress, raised him and his infant brother. Falling in love with the night sky, Minho started teaching his little brother everything he knew about the stars. Having saved up enough money, Minho’s mother sent him to the capital to attend university. It was there he met the others and Chan, taken with Minho and his love for the stars and flight, asked him to join his crew. Initially Minho said no but Chan countered with an offer he couldn’t refuse, although no one knows what that offer was exactly, Minho won’t spill the secret deal between him and the Captain.

Age: 26

Place of Birth: Ravenmoor

Social Class: lower, pirate

Height: 5’6” (167 cm)

Personality: reserved and serious in front of strangers, relaxed and silly with the crew, a bit shy as well

Skills/Talents: knowledgeable about mechanics, can fix almost anything, helped rebuild and restore the Double Knot with the help of his apprentice, Jeongin.

Likes: his mother, Jeongin, the rest of the crew, freedom, adventure

Dislikes: drinking, drunkenness, Han and Felix’s antics when they drink, people picking on Jeongin

Goals/Ambitions: to save enough money for his mother to retire comfortably and not worry about taking care of other people’s children.

Strengths: mechanical work, hand to hand combat, surprisingly good with a sword but prefers to use a wrench instead

Weaknesses: the crew, his mother, Jeongin

Fears: losing his mother or the crew. He doesn’t really care what happens to him as long as the others are out of harm’s way.

Occupation: mechanic

Short Bio: Changbin was born in Ravenmoor and lived with his mother, who ran the orphanage. As he got older, he started to focus on mechanics and how things worked. He taught himself everything. He landed a job as a mechanic of skyships, bringing income to his mother. It was at the orphanage that he met Yang Jeongin, who was dropped off when he was five years old, allowing the two to grow up together. Jeongin shadowed Changbin’s every move and pleaded with the older boy to let him be his apprentice. Changbin relented after his mother saw the benefit of the brotherly relationship. The two have been together ever since. Changbin also grew up in the orphanage with Yunho and San.

Age: 24

Place of Birth: Ravenmoor

Social Class: lower, pirate

Height: 5’7” (170 cm)

Personality: youthful, optimistic, enthusiastic, cheerful, friendly, compassionate, perfectionist

Skills/Talents: learning mechanics from Changbin but already proven himself a skilled mechanic and fast learner

Likes: Changbin, mechanics, freedom, his foster mother, San, sweets, pretty girls

Dislikes: Han and Felix when they’re drunk, being the youngest, getting picked on

Goals/Ambitions: to finish his apprenticeship and leave the Double Knot, maybe even buy his own ship

Strengths: his mechanical work, quick learning, charismatic and charming appearance

Weaknesses: pretty girls and their smiles, his perfectionism and frustration if things aren’t going his way

Fears: losing his connection with Changbin, death, imprisonment

Occupation: mechanic

Short Bio: Jeongin was born in Copperdrift to a pirate father and his on and off again lover. After his mother died, his father took him in, keeping him on board his ship until he was around five years old. Finding it difficult to continue rearing the child, his father dropped him off at the orphanage in Ravenmoor where Changbin’s mother raised him alongside 20 other children, including Yunho and San, the latter who was particularly drawn towards the younger boy and was always sneaking him snacks. Jeongin doesn’t remember when it started, but soon after arriving at the orphanage, he began following Changbin around, seeing him as his older brother. When they were in their teens, Jeongin begged Changbin to teach him mechanics, wanting to follow in his footsteps. When Changbin met Bang Chan, Jeongin was afraid Changbin would use the opportunity to leave him behind but Changbin refused to take the position on the Double Knot unless Jeongin was with him.

Age: 25

Place of Birth: Voxstead

Social Class: middle, pirate

Height: 5’10” (179 cm)

Personality: amiable, balanced, curious, generous, respectful

Skills/Talents: he is, as Chan says, “one hell of a cook.” He also knows how to use a weapon

Likes: cooking, hunting, playing cards with the crew, doesn’t like adventure much but loves being on the ship

Dislikes: adventure, the crew complaining about not wanting to eat something specific, the crew, specifically Han and Felix, picking on Jeongin.

Goals/Ambitions: he just wants to live a full life, free from authority or control

Strengths: cooking, using various cooking utensils as weapons, catching the others trying to sneak food (they claim he has eyes in the back of his head, which he doesn’t deny but encourages).

Weaknesses: physical weakness, doesn’t know much about hand to hand combat but will use a cast iron skillet and metal spoon as a weapon if need be.

Fears: losing the crew and only family he has.

Occupation: cook

Short Bio: Seungmin was born to a pair of bakers in Voxstead. He is the brother of Emily (Yeosang’s late wife), who was adopted by his parents. When Emily took her own life and Yeosang left, Seungmin saw no reason to stay in Voxstead. His parents, saddened by the death of their daughter and granddaughter, died a few years after Seungmin left Voxstead. At some point, Seungmin came into contact with Han after he beat him in a game of cards. Han and Felix were about to take back their losses when Chan stopped them and offered Seungmin a place on the Double Knot.

Age: 25

Place of Birth: Fort Blackburg

Social Class: aristocratic, pirate

Height: 5’10 (178 cm)

Personality: intelligent, innovative, sassy, versatile, well-mannered, outgoing

Skills/Talents: sketching and drawing, building, inventing, late night brainstorming, reading, jeweler

Likes: sketching, drawing, painting, building, inventing, making jewelry

Dislikes: loud noises when he’s trying to focus, Han and Felix using his books as coasters, when Chan dismisses his concern over the others’ behavior.

Goals/Ambitions: to become a renowned inventor

Strengths: innovative ideas, willing to get his hands dirty when needed

Weaknesses: he isn’t very good at combat

Fears: death, execution, imprisonment, Chan’s wrath should he ever cross him

Occupation: inventor and entrepreneur

Short Bio: Born and raised in Fort Blackburg, Hyunjin is the son of a high ranking official in the military and a part of the aristocratic class. He attended the best schools and went to attend university in the capital where he eventually met Chan who found his inventor’s spirit a viable asset and asked him to join his crew. After meeting Changbin, Hyunjin helped to improve the inner workings of the Double Knot to make her the fastest skyship in the air. Hyunjin and Chan don’t always see eye to eye and Hyunjin knows better than to cross Chan because he’s seen what the older man is capable of.

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 1 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 1 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

First draft written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Chapter 1: The Voice of the Sea

The day was fair and the sun was high, glittering off the water of Sea. Big Wohan was near the horizon and swift little Dorac was nearly at the mast head. Carsis, the third moon, was not due to rise until well after night fall.

The helmsman turned the three hundred foot length of the Longin dead into the wind. The breeze, now acting as a brake, slowed the big ship to a stop. Her large lateen sails went slack and fluttered in the gentle wind as the big ship, resembling a cross between a Chinese junk and a Yankee Clipper, finally went dead in the water.

“Why is the Captain even listening to her?” Silor, the lead deck-hand demanded of nobody in particular, gesturing offhandedly at the young, white haired girl standing beside Captain Mord Halyn near the bow of the ship. He was further back, near the foremast, in a knot of people prominent in the ship’s community. The Masters of the Craft Council were there along with many of the officers who were off duty. There were many others who were simply curious as to what Kurin was going to do this time. The nearly unbelievable rumor was that she was going to sound the bottom without a fathom-line.

Master Juris, the chief boat-wright and head of the Longin’s Craft Council, seeing a chance to needle Silor again, chose to answer him. Sarcastically he asked, “Why? Is your memory as clumsy as yourself? Do your recall as far back as three Wohans? A whole hundred days? There was a Coriolis storm, remember? Quite a large one.”

Silor did, in fact, remember the storm. I was on deck through most of it. I took the Captain’s orders and directed my mast crews. We saved the mainsail, the Longin herself, and every life aboard, when the reefing points tore out in hundred mile per hour winds. It was me up in the rigging. Rain and freezing wind tried to hurl me to Dark Iren. I set the puling blocks and caught lines that the hurricane whipped out of the control of my men and women. We got the yard secured to the boom and rebound that flailing canvass. We were almost done, the last line fought into its block, when slippery footing on a wet line let a hard gust throw me twenty feet to the deck. I broke my left arm. Silor was still paying the cost of saving the ship in his aching left arm, only recently out of its sling. Yes, Silor remembered the storm.

“Everybody knows how to deal with a blow like that,” Master Juris went on, patronizingly lecturing Silor like as if he were a child. “Run before it, close hauled and quarter your way out to safety after you are on the back of its path so it won’t just run you down again. The trick is to know when to quarter your way out with neither sun, moons or stars to help. We came out of the storm with only one section of one sail blown out of shape beyond salvage. The damaged section was replaced in five hours, and we were back in trim. How many ships did we find in that storm’s track? All needing major repair?”

“Six,” muttered Silor sulkily thinking correctly, Master Juris will always find a way to criticize whatever I do. Saved the ship, Logged a hero, and Master Juris calls me clumsy! Didn’t see Juris in the rigging helping! Once, five years ago when I was a kid, one bad thing happened, and Master Juris has never let me, or anyone else, forget.

“Kurin called the timing sooner than anybody expected and the Captain believed her. She was right. She got us to safety. It’s only one of the many times that she’s been right. That’s why the Captain listens to her. Now, let’s watch and see what this is all about.” The other Craft Masters of the Longin had come up from their shops below-decks to watch Kurin’s demonstration. They nodded in agreement.

Master Cirde the head of the weaving shop said, ��I wish that Kurin was my apprentice instead of yours, Juris. She learns quickly and works well, rarely showing anything until she is sure of it. She came to my shop to play and that’s how we found out that the secret of Longin Lace had not left the ship when Cat went back to the sea.”

“She actually pays attention to instruction, instead of letting her mind wander onto dry land,” said Master Clard, the drummer. There was some good-natured laughter at the expense of apprentices in general. “They’re about to start,” he added.

“Just time for a friendly wager,” said Master Juris, smiling predatorially at Silor. “You are sure that this stop is a waste of time. I have some confidence in my apprentice. Two steamed fish cakes from this evening’s dinner will be the stakes. Acceptable?” He held out his hand and Silor, cornered by his own dislike, shook on it. In the background, others could be heard making various bets as well.

The attention of the whole group was now fixed on the Captain, the sailor beside him with a sounding line, and on twelve-Gatherings-old Kurin, the center of this storm on a calm sea. She closed her gray eyes and appeared to be concentrating on something that nobody else could notice. The deck was rolling gently in the swells, that was all.

She nodded to herself, satisfied, and wrote quickly on a tallow-slate with a bone stylus, showing it to Captain Mord, who signed it.

“Make the sounding,” he ordered the sailor who was standing ready. The sailor nodded with a brisk, “Aye, Sir!” He heaved a coral stone attached to a light line overboard and let it sink. The line had knots at regular six foot intervals and the sailor counted them as the stone sank. To the surprise of everyone except the girl, who was nevertheless relieved, the weight found a bottom at only twenty one fathoms, a mere sixty six feet down.

“You were right, Kurin,” said Captain Mord loud enough for all to hear. “There is a shallow bottom here that we never knew of. This could mark a good crabbing reef, if it has any size.”

He took her tallow-slate and added another note to it. Then he showed it to the waiting Craft Masters, officers and crew-folk. There for all to see, in Kurin’s neat writing, was ‘Bottom about 20 fathoms’ with ‘Cpt. Mord Halyn Longin’ signed beneath it as witness. There was also a note in Captain Mord’s hand, ‘Bottom found at 21 fathoms, Cpt. M.H.L.’

As the tallow-slate was passed about the group. Theatrical groans and cries of glee went with it. The sailors and some of the Masters could be heard cheerfully settling bets. Master Juris gloated to a gloomy Silor, “That’s two steamed fishcakes that you owe me from your plate at dinner. Want to try for all three, when we actually map out the shallows?”

The Captain now held up a carefully made chart on paperfish parchment for the Masters and Officers to see. Kurin’s neat drawing showed carefully marked depth contours for the expected bottom.

“I will let Kurin explain to you, as she did to me, the means of making this chart without long and laborious soundings.”

“Kurin, you know the Masters of the Craft Council. Please explain your method and answer their questions.”

She had known these men and women for Gatherings and worked and learned in their shops as a way of playing in her free time, but she was nervous still. This time, for almost the first time, she was going to try to teach them, instead of learning from them — and all of them at once.

She nervously twisted her long white hair in her hand as she began, “Five Gatherings ago, when we were on our way to her last Gathering with us, Cat gave me a hint to how she was able to steer the Longin so well in spite of her blindness. She said, ‘The sea speaks to me and tells me where the currents and reefs are. It’s voice is the long waves under the waves that we see.’

Kurin went on with gathering confidence, “It took me all of the five Gatherings since to figure out what she meant and how to interpret the waves. Look at the little wind waves on the surface. The Longin is big enough that they don’t move her at all. Still, she rises and falls to a longer, deeper wave than those. The long deep waves are the ones that I read for this work.

“It wasn’t easy to sort them out without help. They get shorter and higher when they pass over a shallow bottom. They bend when they go around the end of a shallow area and make a pattern that I can show you as the bent waves cross the ones that go straight. Currents, both big permanent ones like the Naral and Cliftos Currents, and transient flows caused by the tides, push the waves around. You can learn to tell which way the current is going, and about how fast.”

“I grasp the basic idea,” said Master Juris, absently scratching his bald head, “but I’ve watched you work on that chart in the boat-shop for most of a Gathering. Wouldn’t soundings be faster and more accurate?”

“I chose this place because we always sail past wide of it, due to the sudden change in the direction of the Naral Current, caused by this very reef. The turn that the current makes can throw dead-reckoning between navigation sightings way off. Because of that, we’ve always avoided this area. This is the one place in all three of our home waters where there is nothing but wave information to go on. Each time that we went past at a distance, I was able to add a little more. I could chart it to this same accuracy in only two passes if we came up within a mile of the reef and sailed along it. At most, three to four hours.”

The Masters retired down the deck to confer for a bit, trying to decide how to handle this turn of events.

While they were conferring, Captain Mord announced, “The second part of this experiment is to go ahead and do soundings by tried and true methods, to verify the accuracy of Kurin’s chart.

“While we do that, we’ll put some crab nets down in the known part of the shallows and try our luck.” The crew began to launch boats for the soundings and bustle about, preparing nets and crab-rings for use.

In the background the large, tubular hailing drum could be heard pounding out directions to the boats doing the soundings. Its main use was long-distance ship to ship communication, in favorable conditions it could bridge distances of over a mile with its very directional pulses of sound. Two officers, now using Kurin’s chart and a wide based range-finder, were telling the drummer what was needed next and he was telling the boats where to plumb the depths.

While the soundings were being taken, the other small, four and six oared, boats were lowered to the water with that absence of splashing that signals both experience and skill. Women and men both clambered down a big meshed net secured to the rail for that purpose. The ring nets, lines and floats were being lowered on boat hooks to the waiting crews. They were accompanied by good-natured banter and a few jeers from folk on deck, envious of those chosen to go. Oars made little whirlpools in the water and drove the boats ahead of quickly vanishing wakes as the crews rowed out to try the reef for crabs and to set some shrimp traps.

As Silor was eagerly preparing to go over the side to a waiting boat, Captain Mord approached. “Silor, I know that your arm is out of its sling but take the word of another who’s had a broken arm. Don’t over do it at first. I want you to organize the lookouts for Strong Skins and Wing Rays. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous those fish can be. Stay aboard this time and man the small crane. Somebody has to bring the catch aboard. I’m the Captain, and I don’t get to go out anymore.” He leaned on the rail beside Silor and looked at the departing boats with a heavy sigh.

Silor gripped the net cords so tightly that his knuckles turned white. I want to go out! My arm’s getting better! How did she do this? “Yes, Sir. Set the lookouts. Man the crane. I’ll take care of it, Sir,” he grumped stiffly. Stung at the loss of a chance at something fun to do, he went to do as ordered.

TO BE CONTINUED

NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON'S GIFT #Part 1 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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primrooks · 6 years ago

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Wands of a Feather: An Elena of Avalor/Sofia the First Crossover

[Chapter 1] // [Chapter 2]

*One of the most surprising and fun aspects of writing this story has been creating all sorts of different OC's, sometimes right on the spot! Quarry, Isadora, Hiba and Raadi are all my characters (as far as I know, we never do meet the royal wizard of Khaldoun in StF), and I was especially excited to tap into the idea of deaf mages and non-verbal magic within this universe. I'm not part of the deaf community myself, so if anything looks off, do let me know!

AO3 link here!

Chapter 3: The Tri-Kingdom Showcase

The lone figure suddenly formed into two, one a few inches taller than the other. The first presenters stepped into the spotlight, another stage effect courtesy of Isadora. The shorter of the two was a kindly middle-aged woman, wearing a midnight-blue robe and draped with a shimmering silver cloak, her head covered by a knotted white headscarf. Next to her was a teenage boy with freckles dotted across his brown skin, clad in an elegant teal robe and a patterned russet turban. A leather satchel hung from his left arm.

Both bowed deeply before the crowd, then the elder wizard stepped forward to gauge her audience.

Her hazel-eyed gaze held some kind of gravity that pulled at Mateo’s attention. Nothing in it was scrutinizing, just attentive. Quietly aware of the people before her, and silently asking them to share in that awareness.

The woman gave a tender grin, and then began to gesticulate with her hands, smoothly forming various signs while never tearing away her gaze.

“Welcome, friends. I am Hiba, Royal Wizard to His Majesty King Nasir of Khaldoun,” interpreted the young boy, who’d stepped up to Hiba’s side.

“This here is my apprentice, Raadi,” she signed, at which Raadi gave a small nod.

“I am humbled to be performing this morning for all of you, though I must say, the journey from our country to the isle was… more eventful than perhaps our company hoped,” Hiba continued. It amazed Mateo how Raadi matched his voice to the subtle inflections of his master’s gestures and facial expressions, with only cursory glances away from her hands.

Then as if on cue, Raadi took a couple steps to the side, while Hiba extended her left arm and summoned a tall staff out of thin air. The top of the bronze staff was adorned with gilded feathers curling around a bright sapphire orb, and the body was carved with rows upon rows of delicate engravings. Mateo vaguely recognized some of them as runes, but most of the writing seemed to be calligraphy native to Khaldoun. Another wave of Hiba’s hand caused the engravings to glow a purple light, and as they did, Mateo noticed the various jeweled bracelets and swirling golden bands that decorated Hiba’s forearms.

A swirling array of lavender lights emerged like ribbons from the staff, coalescing with one another and steadily taking solid shape before their eyes. The lights took the likeness of a giant thirty-foot serpent, its eyes blank as snow and its maw lined with jagged teeth, with enormous tusks curving out of the sides. The illusion looked big enough to ram its head through a fortress, and it eerily stared down upon the audience while gliding through the air. Its jaws opened and closed just slightly as it prowled in a circle, and Mateo couldn’t help but gulp as it passed above his head. No one made a sound, even as the serpent stopped above Hiba’s head.

“Our ship happened to be passing through a pod of these serpents, and some feared the worst,” Hiba signed.

She then turned toward Raadi. “My dear apprentice confessed that he thought his life was forfeit right then and there.”

Raadi dutifully interpreted his master’s last comments, before he shot back at her with a piqued expression.

“Leave it to Madame Hiba to never skimp out on the details,” he spoke, turning so that he directly faced his master with his signs. Hiba chuckled, as did the audience. But then the spectral serpent curled upwards, and the laughter stopped as it towered above them at its full height. The room grew tense once more as it stood with its eyes unblinking, mouth agape, and then…

It started to sing.

Waves of a soft and ominous melody filled the air, like a shell horn’s strain ringing through a cave. The effect was similar to how Mateo had heard Naomi describe whale songs back at school. Its voice carried echoes of some dark and fathomless part of the ocean, its melody as unhurried as the tide. Mateo then remembered one other thing Naomi warned about serpent calls: many an untrained sailor had met their watery fate by mistaking their song for a whale’s.

Serpents travelled in large pods beneath the water’s surface, using their song to guide their brood during summer migrations to the north. If boats lingered too long in the migration path, they were met by the viciously territorial serpents. The lucky ones knew to make a swift and quiet escape with their ships, and she meant lucky. Even Naomi’s mother, a master of the seas, had vessels nearly capsized by their tusks and tails.

The sound carried beyond the theater area to the further corners of the pavillion, and Mateo briefly turned his head to see if anyone outside this crowd had noticed. There were a few curious faces (mainly children and their parents) who looked up at the illusion in awe, though others carried on unperturbed.

He turned back to the serpent, and saw that more light illusions had flown out of Hiba’s staff. They formed a few smaller serpents, brighter in color, which flocked close to the first serpent as it led them higher above the stage. Isadora’s spotlight followed them as they swam through the air in synchronized twisting and swirling patterns, joining one another in song.

As they circled closer around the theater area a couple of times, showing off well-timed maneuvers that earned bursts of applause from the spectators, Mateo caught Hiba in the corner of his eye. From her billowing sleeves she drew a small square of paper inscribed with thin ink lettering. She flicked it into the air, and the paper burst into a flash of fire.

And just as quickly, the whole pavillion dissolved from Mateo’s sights. Stalls, trees and solid ground had vanished, and all background noise was covered by a pregnant hush. Darkness surrounded them, until an array of tiny lights blinked and swirled into being. Before long, the crowd found themselves sitting in the middle of a galactic cluster, where the brightest star of all shined above: the North Star.

“The crew on our vessel managed to pull us out to safety, but I grew curious as to how often such encounters occurred.” Raadi stood by Hiba once more, holding her staff as she continued her speech. “I asked the captain for records of the sea serpents’ migration patterns, and he gave me an even more invaluable asset.”

Raadi drew three pieces of paper from his sleeve, folded into neat boomerang-like knots. He tossed them one by one into the air, and the papers morphed into their own streaks of light. As with Hiba’s illusions, the streaks gathered like strings rolling up into a ball, and expanded to become different sea creatures: blue caballos marinos, green tortoises, even a gigantic scarlet kraken. They each joined with the serpents as they looped around one last time, before gliding upwards to the North Star.

The crowd’s applause broke out louder, before being quelled by a sharp knock upon the stage. Hiba gave three gentler taps with the staff, and the light illusions she and Raadi conjured formed into a luminous, emerald-colored orb. The orb ballooned into a large globe, and white lines formed around its surface, mapping the various continents of the Ever-Realm.

“The captain showed me all the records of different migration patterns that he and past generations of Khaldounian sailors had collected through their many voyages.” Moving her hand in a curling motion, Hiba conjured an illusory sun, casting light upon her globe.

“The creatures of the sea follow where the cold and warm waters flow. They track the seasons as we still sometimes do with the stars.” Hiba stretched both of her arms out, and summoned her sea beasts once more, in smaller versions that ducked in and out of the surface of her globe. The globe then started to rotate on an axel around the sun, tracking the seasonal paths of the creatures with the sun and the North Star as their constant guide.

As he stared up at the map, Mateo vaguely recalled Abuela and Mamá’s stories about the North Star, how the star’s different positions in relation to the Ever-Realm horizon acted as a compass to early Avaloran sailors. The most fascinating stories recounted how the ancient Maruvians created calendars and predicted turns of fortune from the night sky.

He once tried to map the sky himself, and although he found the process a bit too precision-based (resulting in many scribbled-out and ink-stained parchment notebooks), he loved to just look at the maps from school and compare them to the star and moon charts in his Abuelo’s archives. While the calculations behind the charts felt weighty and tedious back when he was nine years old, something about his Abuelo’s notes on the constellations and the stories they told would keep him up for hours past his bedtime.

“My hope with this Astral Atlas is that all who sail upon the seas will instantly know where and when the most dangerous creatures of the sea might cross their paths, and to see how all life, no matter how monstrous its appearance, follows the same patterns as we do,” Hiba explained, giving a knowing smile.

With another sharp “TACK!” from her staff, her illusions - the globe, beasts, star field - vanished in an instant. Mateo blinked, gathering his senses back to the canvas-filtered sunlight and the general murmur of the exhibition hall. His confusion was shared with some of the younger sorcerers, but the elders looked more quietly impressed with Hiba’s showcase.

“And before you ask: no, you won’t need that whole light show to use the atlas. In fact, one shouldn’t have any trouble carrying one of these around. And yes, everyone will get one to take home,” Hiba finished, eliciting a number of excited whispers.

After he was done interpreting, Raadi reached into his satchel and pulled out a black board segmented into two. He folded out from the part, and from its surface popped out an animated atlas just like the one he and Hiba conjured, though on a smaller scale. The detail was no less impressive on the model, and the board itself was as thin as a school slate.

At a small nod from his master, Raadi closed the board and placed it back in his bag. He joined Hiba in bowing to the audience, who responded in kind with elated applause. Mateo even saw some of them give a standing ovation.

He looked back at Hiba and Raadi, who were signing between themselves, grinning ear to ear as they exchanged words that he wished he could follow. But their expressions carried all the clarity he needed: while Raadi appeared bashful, in contrast to the collected front he presented on stage, his master couldn’t be more proud.

+++

“Incredible...” Cedric muttered to himself.

He’d been watching the Khadounian wizards’ performance from a hidden seating area backstage, located off to the side from the main platform. The longer he thought back to Hiba’s star map, the more his stomach felt like a black hole, warping him from the inside. He wanted to pace around, but he stood stock-still, afraid of making a spectacle.

He’d have expected no less from a wizard of her caliber, but Hiba had created an invaluable aid to sailors and adventurers of all stripes. How could his trick match up? What was a gussied-up child’s toy compared to that?

He hoped that Quarry wouldn’t take notice of his nerves, as the eagle-owl busied himself with treats while resting on his own perch.

“Heh. And she had the mettle to tell me that she came up with all that last minute,” chuckled a sagacious voice from the bench next to his.

Wu-Chang was seated with his oak staff laid across his lap, stroking his long white beard as he looked over Cedric’s shoulder. Hiba and her apprentice were now making their exit towards the opposite end of the stage, while the young master of ceremonies stepped up to the center in a dazzling dash of pink.

As she began raving over Hiba’s act to hype up the audience for their next performer, Wu-Chang stood up and leisurely smoothed out his gold-and-veridian robes.

Cedric could recall a few times in his childhood when he’d seen the Royal Sorcerer of Wei-Ling perform, either for King Roland I or in shows with Cedric’s own father, Goodwin the Great. Goodwin was not a man known for his flattery, and one thing that used to (somewhat) quell Cedric’s anxiety over his father’s approval was that, however critical he was about his son’s magical education, Goodwin would apply the same eagle eye for error on his own rivals.

Wu-Chang was one of the rare few to escape any scathing appraisal, and Cedric could see why. The elder sorcerer was a master of the traditional arts, held a storied record of service, and performed for royals and subjects alike with the same gentle reverence that eased his crowds into some truly wondrous spectacles. For all his years of service however, Wu-Chang rarely spoke of retirement, which made Cedric wonder how he himself would fare the further he got along in his years.

“Hopefully I won’t lull our guests too well,” Wu-Chang joked, standing by the curtain leading up to the main stage.

Cedric tried to laugh, but the pathetic exhale that came out of his mouth sounded more like a wheeze.

“Is your throat alright?” asked Wu-Chang, clearly concerned.

“It is, it is,” Cedric assured him. Out of habit, he cleared his throat, immediately undercutting his claim.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Then Cedric plopped down on the bench, briefly spooking Quarry. In place of smacking himself on the forehead for making a fool out of himself, Cedric gave a blithe shrug.

“Oh, perhaps I didn’t get as much sleep as I thought.” His words weren’t doing much to save face, judging from Wu-Chang’s slightly raised brow. Cedric avoided his gaze, trying to seem distracted by giving Quarry another snack.

“They wouldn’t be out there if they didn’t want to see you,” said Wu-Chang.

“Pardon?” Cedric asked, looking back up.

Wu-Chang gave a small smile. “I’m just recalling what my old master told me. He said that all I could do was give them the show I prepared. Whatever I did, be it a success, failure, mediocrity, was still a learning experience, and after that I only had to focus on how to make my next act even better.”

Cedric bit back a groan. However well-intentioned, he was not in the mood for a pep talk.

“I should say so,” Cedric stated, effecting a proud tone and stance. “A Royal Sorcerer must strive for nothing less than excellence.”

“An admirable goal, in theory. It would depend on how one measures the concept of excellence,” Wu-Chang countered.

“I think that neither you nor I have little to worry about in that regard. Experience and expertise should speak for themselves,” Cedric touted. Quarry flew up to his shoulder and gave two happy hoots.

“I can see that. You’ve improved considerably since you were a child, Cedric.” Wu-Chang had replied with nothing but sincerity, but that didn’t stop Cedric’s shoulders from tensing nor his throat from tightening.

“Oh, you… you remember me from back then?” Cedric uttered.

“How could I forget? Your dear father and mother always had so much to share about you.”

“Ah, as I’d expect,” he sighed.

“And! Without further ado! We’ve got another spectacular guest lined up and ready to go! Let’s see who’s behind Curtain Number Twooooo!” boomed the emcee. Cedric had taken note during rehearsals, but that young woman’s voice could fill a canyon.

“I bid you luck,” said Wu-Chang.

“Yes, I-” Before Cedric could finish, the other sorcerer vanished with a snap of his fingers, leaving a puff of scarlet smoke. The red smoke quickly evaporated, though Cedric still had to fan some of it away from his eyes.

“-To you as well,” he finished drily. He didn’t have to see the ecstatic welcome Wu-Chang was getting from the crowd. Their cheers were proof aplenty.

“Greetings. My name is Wu-Chang, Royal Sorcerer to His Imperial Highness Emperor Quon of Wei-Ling.”

As the introductory speech went on, Cedric sat back in his bench, and Quarry settled onto his lap. He gently stroked a hand down Quarry’s crest, letting his familiar’s quiet hoots fill the space.

He couldn’t let his nerves get the better of him, not after all those days of planning and practice. He never felt more prepared for a performance, and he especially didn’t want his new familiar to look bad because of him. Unfortunately, one thing hadn’t changed: the waiting was always the worst part.

#wands of a feather #elena of avalor #sofia the first #eoa #stf #fanfic #disney fanfic #mateo de alva #cedric the sorcerer #cedric the sensational #rooks writes #my writing

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alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice · 6 years ago

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Hanged-Man’s Chest

Julian and MC are en route to Nevivon from Vesuvia when they’re attacked by pirates. In the heat of battle, Julian realizes he has something to say.

Just finished Julian’s route with the upright ending and I have a lot of feelings, and finding out that they were sailing off together gave me so many ideas. This is inspired by the scene in Dead Man’s Chest (hence the wordplay in the title) where Will and Elizabeth get married. It’s in first person and no name or gender for the apprentice is mentioned, Julian just calls them Darling.

Warnings: this is a fight scene involving swords and the like, but no descriptions of blood and gore. There’s implied sexual stuff toward the end, but nothing explicit. This takes place after the events of Julian’s upright ending, so spoilers!

@bazzpop here’s hoping you actually get the notification this time, since you didn’t get notified for the last one.

Our journey to Nevivon was not off to a great start. I suppose only one of two things can happen when you’re sailing off from Vesuvia on an errand for the Countess: either no one dares mess with you, or some poor fool thinks that you’re bound to have precious riches to steal.

So that’s why, currently, our ship is under attack from pirates, just a mere three days after leaving Vesuvia, yet I’ve never felt more confident in such a hostile situation before. It’s probably because Julian is here. Portia and Mazelinka are here too, of course but… I’m most comforted by Julian’s presence.

If we can defeat the devil together, fighting a few pirates is child’s play.

Still, it’s a rough battle. These pirates don’t mess around. They boarded our ship in the middle of a storm, too, which was either very clever, or very stupid. For the moment, it makes the fight more chaotic, as the waves make the deck sway wildly under our feet.

Waves. They’re the perfect source of inspiration for my magic. I can feel the heavy raindrops pelting my head and bring them together to collect in one swirling, flying wave. I use it to wash a few unwelcome guests off the ship. For a moment, I’m so focused on the spell that I don’t notice a man coming at me with a sword just out of my peripheral vision. I turn to raise my hands and defend myself, and it would have been too late if It hadn’t been for the responding rapier that bats my attacker away.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a magician in the middle of a spell?” Julian adds a touch of that classic theatre drama to his tone, and he tosses a look back at me. “Are you alright, darling?”

I grin at my lover. “Never better Jules!” I shout above the thunder and return to focusing on my magic. I later see the man who attacked me running back to his ship, unarmed. I know Julian, he never hurts anyone if he can disarm them or make them run instead. The other Devorak sibling, however? I catch a glimpse of Portia decking an unfortunate sailor so hard he falls into the water.

I can feel Julian at my back, protecting me as I work on pushing the pirates back with magic. I suppose some of them think that I’m the biggest threat, so I probably would have been overwhelmed had it not been for Julian. They’ve definitely underestimated Mazelinka, though, and if she didn’t have one hand occupied with steering the ship through the storm, they’d all be in trouble.

“Darling!” Julian calls to me over his shoulder, “I have something I need to ask you!”

“Is now really the time Jules?” I scoff as I push back a particularly stubborn attacker wielding a harpoon.

“Well I’ve really only just realized this! And I’m not sure I can contain it a moment longer!”

I roll my eyes and shift my attention to make a magic shield around us. It won’t last too long, but long enough to address whatever is going on with this disaster doctor now. I turn to face him.

He grabs my shoulders like I’m his lifeline. “Darling, my stars and sunlight, I love you!”

“Is that it, Julian? I know! I love you too!”

“No, no, no. I mean I love you and I never want to be without you! I want to spend every moment in your company, even if that means battling danger every other week! I’d face death every day if it meant having you by my side!”

My eyes get wide as I start to realize where this is going, “Jules… are you…?”

“My love, will you marry me?”

My excitement and love and joy fuel my magic so much I thought the sun was coming out. Then, I realized it was just the shield glowing brighter, and it gains enough strength to push everyone back. I grab him by the collar and pull him to me in a kiss. “Yes! Julian, yes!”

Then, I give him a playful swat on the arm. “What is it with you and having these revelations in dire situations, though? I swear you get off on the danger!”

He gives me one of his classic, suave smiles. “Why darling, you wound me! Besides, we both know I’m not the only one who likes a little danger.” He winks. “And I’m very fortunate in that.”

I give him another peck on the cheek before shouting out to the captain. “Mazelinka! Will you marry us?”

Mazelinka swats away another pirate with a metal ladle with her free hand. I shudder to think how terrifying she would be with an actual weapon. “I’m busy!” she shouts, “Quit lagging about and get to work!”

“I call best man!” Portia shouts, “or, woman that is!”

I bring the shield down so Julian can fence with one of the few that still tried to come after us. He laughs heartily. “Portia you know I’d never want anyone else!”

I laugh along with him, the wind blowing more rain into my face. I’ve never felt so alive and happy as I have this moment. “I suppose I can ask Asra to be my maid of honor. Er- man of honor?” I search for a moment for the proper word until I just settle on “Magician of honor!”

“Darling, what flowers do you prefer?” Julian calls over to me, sending another assailant overboard. “I’ve always been a fan of sunflowers at celebrations.”

“Doesn’t that mess with your dark and brooding aesthetic?” I tease, sliding down the rail of some steps so I’m in the perfect position to kick a crewmate’s attacker in the face.

We continue this back and forth of wedding planning as we fight, and before we know it, we’ve sent the pirates running, and they’re completely empty handed.

Later that night, Julian and I are snuggled up in our shared quarters below deck. He’s gently running his fingers through my hair when he asks, “Did you really mean it, my love? That you’ll marry me? It wasn’t heat of the battle or thinking we’d die?”

A slight breath of a laugh escapes my lips, “I didn’t believe for a second we’d die, Ilya, we both know we’ve faced far worse than a few pirates.”

He hums a bit in contentment, “yes, yes, I know darling I just want to make sure – oh!”

In a moment I’ve shifted us so I’m on top of him, pinning him down by his wrists. A bright blush creeps up from his cheeks to his ears, and I know I’ve succeeded at shutting him up for a moment. “I want to marry you Julian, really,” I promise. I lean forward so that I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips and press my body flush against his. “Now, how about we celebrate our engagement?”

His gaze wanders a bit, clearly flustered, before his expression breaks into that of a devilish grin. “Aye, aye, captain.”

#julian devorak #portia devorak #mazelinka #the arcana game #julian the arcana #julian x apprentice #dead man's chest #julian fanfiction #original fanfiction #arcana fanfiction #asra alzanar #julian proposal #alls fair creations

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 6 years ago

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Sandcastles

I drafted almost 2000 words of this before deciding it would be better as angsty fluffy nonsense. Tl;dr, MC and Julian have left Vesuvia and things aren’t exactly going as planned. A near death experience reminds MC of things long forgotten.

The Arcana | Julian x Apprentice | Gen | Angst, Fluff

MC doesn’t know what to expect when she packs her bags for the open sea. Whenever she picks out a set of clothes or a book for quiet moments she finds herself distracted by rather more romantic notions, like the sea breeze in her hair and gentle waves. Her enthusiasm only pales in comparison to Julian’s, who insists on trying on the gaudiest hats and robes at the market and pulling exaggerated poses.

“What do you think?” He asks her once, modelling a gaudy hat adorned with an overly large peacock feather.

“It suits you,” she giggles, the idea of any situation where he may actually wear it as foreign and unknown as her past had once been.

It’s a different her in a different life; a life that feels farther away every time she tries to cling onto it. Even as the pair of them say their farewells to friends and family, the idea that it might be years or months until they come back does not truly sink in. She accepts the extra bags of herbal remedies and tea from Asra; the fine silks and star charts from Nadia; the carefully baked cookies and tears from Portia; the stew, thick clothes and threats from Mazelinka that she will know if they miss a meal; the sighs and awkward well wishes from Muriel, who makes no secret at his unease at having to come to see them off in the first place.

MC does not miss them or weep until far later, by which time the boat has long set sail and she can no longer see them in the distance. There’s nothing but ocean for as far as the eye can see, yet she still half expects to return to the shop.

The reality is different from anything she might have imagined; choppy seas and an equally choppy stomach, all combined with the powerful odour of dozens of bodies packed together into a cramped space. She’s not the only woman on board, though plainly the only one with little in the way of sailing experience. Even so, the first few weeks are rather pleasant; MC offers to read the cards of other shipmates in exchange for gold, all while Julian offers up his services as a medic. It’s a simple attempt to prove themselves useful, even if it ultimately backfires. All but one of her readings produces the death card; an uncomfortable joke at first and source of suspicion soon after. The first mate dies in a shootout during their first pit stop, scarcely a week before one of the cabin boys passes away of a fever. Before long she’s on the receiving end of second glances that Julian reassures her are nothing serious.

It’s the death of the captain that truly changes things; a stray cannon leaving him with injuries far beyond magic or science. He’s dead the moment he hits the water, any hope that things might return to normal gone with him. The new captain is far more superstitious than the last and not at all interested in listening to her protests at what the death card actually represents. As far as he is concerned, she hexed his crew and her motives are far from clear.

If she’s honest, she does not not blame him; she forgives him even as she walks the plank with her arms tightly bound. She’s been a magician long enough to know why people fear magic and in his position might even have done the same. She has exactly one regret, though, as she peers into the dark water; that the wood creaks and buckles under not only her own feet but Julian’s as well. He laughs as they bind his wrists, insistent that he’d feel awfully left out if MC were to be tied up without him.

MC can forgive the captain; she holds no grudges even as her body hits the ocean with such force that it steals her breath. If anyone is to blame, it’s her.

Reality sinks in the moment Julian hits the water; a stark realisation that if she doesn’t do something they will die for sure. She squeezes her eyes shut, calling on her magic and squeezing her hands into fists as the warmth washes over her from head to toe. She can see it if she squints; a silver glow surrounding her body that leaves the sailors crying out in shock. She floats above the surface in a perfect sphere of magic, Julian wide eyed beside her. They both know it’s been a while since she’s had to do anything so extreme that the magic is hot and overwhelming; a scorching kind of heat that reminds her of the Lazaret. It’s too much to bear but she clings on anyway, willing a single word into the center of her consciousness.

Land

She grits her teeth.

Land...please

She doesn’t remember falling unconscious; only that Julian calls out to her and she cannot make out the words. She half expects to be dead the moment it’s over, everything falling black and her chest growing tight.

She dreams of the magic shop and palace gardens; remembers falling into the reservoir in greater detail than usual. She remembers how frantically she kicked her legs, the pain of an eel attaching itself to her middle. And, of course, she remembers the blood seeping through Julian’s clothing. That, after all, was her fault too.

Before she knows it, she’s knocking at a door with several heavy books under her arm, feeling annoyed even if she can’t remember why.

“Dr. Devorak!” She calls out. “J-Julian, can I come in? These books are heavy.”

No one answers and she knocks a third time.

“Doctor?”

The door swings open and she breathes a heavy sigh, only too happy to drop the books in her arms onto the nearest desk. Dr. Devorak’s office is a mess of scrolls and heavy tomes and she’s honestly surprised that his desk doesn’t buckle under the weight. He was in the middle of scribbling notes in the margin of a particularly dusty text when he got up to open the door, and MC cannot help but steal glances. She can just about decipher his handwriting; his desperation growing increasingly clear.

She wants to tell him to rest...to have some tea or take a nap, but by now she knows he will not listen. Instead she settles for idle conversation.

“You know,” she says, “it’s a beautiful day today.”

“Mmm.”

“The sun is shining...the birds are singing…”

“Sounds nice.”

He sinks into his chair and picks up his quill, somehow even more melancholy than usual. Something is wrong, but she’s not sure how to ask. Lately so many things have been wrong that she dreads the prospect of more.

She sighs and reaches to rearrange his desk, a muttered complaint crossing her lips. If he disapproves he does not say so, instead continuing to turn the pages of the book in front of him. She crouches down to gather the abandoned bottles of ink and alcohol that litter the floor, the scrap pieces of paper and scribbled notes. Most of them are illegible, though she collects them into a pile for fear of discarding something important. More than once, he’s rummaged around the floor and in the garbage after a burst of inspiration.

The final piece of paper is more recent than the rest and MC cannot help but smile at the sight. It’s a child’s drawing, showing the ocean in a single layer of perfect blue. MC knows the culprit almost immediately as one of their younger patients-a five year old girl with a bright smile who often drew flowers on the cobblestones in chalk. Her handiwork is reassuringly familiar, even if the circumstances are not. This girl, after all, is just one of so many victims of the plague, too weak to go outside and draw with chalk, though never once losing her smile. She continued to draw even after the plague left her bedbound; sketching jungles, cities and more. Her drawings varied, but her stubbornness stayed the same; adamant that when she grew up she would explore the world, plant flowers and more.

“She really outdid herself this time,” MC says, fondly taking in the familiar shapes. On the left is Julian in his usual mask. To the left is MC herself, discernible by the shawl she wears while visiting patients. “Are we building sandcastles?”

Ordinarily Julian likes to have the girl’s drawings on his walls, leaving them there until they fall to the ground and are lost soon after. Today, though, he takes the picture from her and abandons it in his drawer.

“Julian?”

“She died this morning,” he says, barely above a whisper, leaving MC sinking to her knees.

Only yesterday, she was showing signs of improvement. She had colour in her face and a healthy temperature. Knowing that the same girl will be soon be sent to the Lazaret turns MC’s insides to ice.

“I…”

She opens her mouth to speak but the words die on her lips, the happiness in the drawing unbearable now. She wants to apologise but doesn’t know what for; the fact that the girl almost recovered a miracle in and of itself. She doesn’t know when she decided that the girl would live- a happy, naive version of the future forming in her mind just like child’s drawings. She had become hopeful and having reality set in is a bitter pill to swallow.

She hates how naive she has become, daydreaming about lazy afternoons in the magic shop when such things might never be. She hates every minute she spent watching Julian’s careful examinations of the dead and dying, so distracted sometimes by his unbuttoned shirt that she didn’t pay attention to his actual words.

After this, she says something else. She can see her lips moving and Julian’s surprised reaction, but cannot hear her own voice. Instead she feels the roar of the ocean; feels pressure across her chest.

The sun is bright when she opens her eyes; palm trees swaying gently above her.

“MC?! MC!”

Someone presses their hands over her chest and she turns onto her side, choking up saltwater and spluttering on the floor.

“Thank goodness,” someone whispers and lifts her into their arms. Her thoughts are foggy, but she would recognise their scent anywhere, and weakly wraps her arms around their middle.

Julian grips her tighter, mumbling words she cannot yet make out. He holds her so close that she can feel his racing heartbeat, all the proof she needs that somehow they’re still alive.

They aren’t underwater anymore; that much is obvious. Less obvious is where they washed up.

MC peers over Julian’s shoulder, taking in the roaring tides and golden sand. The tides draw close to their location, but she can still see one set of footprints in the sand, along with an imprint of something being dragged.

She pretends she doesn’t see and instead focuses on Julian, realising that he has blood on his front and appears to have lost his eyepatch.

“Julian,” she says, reaching to touch his shirt, “wh-“

Did he get hurt because of her? No, the thought is almost too much to bear.

“It’s not mine,” he says, the regret all too clear in his voice. She glances down at her dress, taking a deep breath at the bright red stain across her front. He seems concerned but she merely sighs; nosebleeds commonly accompanying her migraines in her first year of recovery.

She’s overdone it with her magic; that much is clear. Given their current circumstances, though, she’s hardly surprised.

“Where are we?”

She can see nothing but sand and jungle, neither of which have familiar landmarks.

“I’m not sure,” says Julian. “One minute we were in the water and the next...here.”

MC climbs to her feet, legs buckling but ultimately bearing her weight. The waves lap against the shore, filling the air with a soothing whisper. The sun is warm and the sand hot against her feet, sticking to her exposed skin before washing away with the tide.

Julian followed her the moment she got up, reaching out to her shoulders and balancing her weight with his own.

“Are you alright...do you need to sit down?”

MC’s body aches, her hands tremble, but she stares out across the shimmering waves, taking in the sound of exotic birds overhead and sand under her feet. She’s drenched, sore and exhausted, but alive. Alive with Julian’s arms around her, alive with a clear sky overhead, alive in a world where the plague is little more than a bad dream. It’s a future she never dreamed of having, a dream as forbidden and otherworldly as any magical realm.

She shrugs Julian's hands away and drops to her knees, burying her fingers in the wet sand.

“Say...let’s build a sandcastle.”

She isn't sure if he remembers, but he smiles at the question, perhaps reassured of a semblance of normality even in the chaos of the past few hours.

“One castle coming up!”

They scour the beach for colourful shells, MC sculpting tall towers and grand moats. Every so often, she casts a second glance around the beach, admiring how easily their footprints are washed away by the tide.

She cannot help but be reminded of chalk on cobblestones washed away in the rain; leaving smears of colour across the ground and a brand new canvas to fill.

#the arcana #julian devorak #julian x apprentice

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ustryaocs · 6 years ago

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CHARACTER: James Hook OTHER NAMES: Captain Hook AGE: Unknown CURRENT RESIDENCE: The Jolly Roger OCCUPATION: Pirate

James was born in a small, humble village. His job, his life was protecting his younger brother. They never had much, nobody in their village did. Every day was a struggle to make it to the next, to get enough for a little food. James did what he could, but it was never enough. And people never lived long in their time, much less at their class, so nobody was surprised when their mother got sick and didn’t get better. When their father passed shortly after, they called it a broken heart, or maybe just too many years of working too hard and not getting enough food. James’ responsibility towards his younger brother was suddenly far more daunting. He took his brother, and everything they had, which was far less than it should have been, and they started walking. Somehow, they made it to a port town in the south. James was ten, his brother six, but the orphanage couldn’t take them both, and James was really too old anyway.

He left his brother there, promising to return with more money, enough for them to live off of. Then he went to the port and found a foreign ship willing to take him as a cabin boy. The work was grueling, unrewarding, and offered a pittance in return for it. He didn’t really know where they were going, only a few of the men speaking broken Welsh or Gaelic, and some days he didn’t know if the rest of the crew knew where they were going either. He knew that days blended into weeks, into months, broken up only by occasional stops at different islands to gather any food they could find and freshwater. But James learned. He learned his job well, until the ship became like an extension of him. He learned their language, becoming adept with Italian and Darija. He learned how to navigate, how to use the stars to guide him, and he learned to love the sea.

By the time he returned, James was a sailor down into his blood, a young man that had a future. It was years later, but he found the same port town with enough coins to jingle when he walked, looking for his brother. Peter, now eight, was not at the orphanage. James found him spending his time with a gang of boys that stole and caused trouble around the town. James dragged him away and spent most of the night yelling at his younger brother, who in turn yelled at him for leaving for two years. They were both different people, and Peter was not the boy James had left behind. James’ promises of returning with a life for them to live had faded over the years, and Peter had eventually lost faith in him and done what he had to do to survive.

James knew he should stay. His brother needed him. But he needed the sea. He found an apprenticeship for Peter instead, agreeing to it without telling his brother first and leaving Peter there where he would be unable to leave. It felt like the right thing to do, it felt that it would be the right choice. He left on a ship the next morning. They made it a day out to sea before a stowaway was discovered, Peter dragged above deck to face judgement. When it became clear who he was, James was restrained while Peter was tied at the ankles and wrists and tossed overboard. James was young and small, but determined enough that he was able to get free and dove in after his brother. The ship left the two of them behind, and while James was able to untie Peter, there was no denying that the two of them would only be able to tread water for so long.

It was a mermaid who took pity on the two of them. Only boys, she could not leave them there at sea, but was still unwilling to get close enough to the mainland to take them there. Instead, she brought them to Neverland. During the day, it was a place of dreams. During the night, it was a place of nightmares. And again, they were rescued, this time by a pixie. Most of those in pixie hollow avoided the humans, but Tinkerbell was fascinated with them. She taught them the secrets of the island, showed them the fountain of youth, she took care of them. James and Peter did not fight. Time was a twisted mess on Neverland, but it seemed to be a few years that everything was perfect. Then Peter retrieved his ‘lost boys’. He fetched the gang of boys from the mainland, with Tinkerbell’s help and excess pixie dust. They fought again, and in the end, it wasn’t worth it to James to keep the fight going.

And so the Lost Boys made a home for themselves in Neverland. Time lost all meaning and years blurred together. Every day was a new game lead by Peter, each one more dangerous than the last. It wasn’t until one of the boys died that James realized something was wrong. Peter had lost all comprehension of the difference between games and reality, even death was an ‘adventure’ to him. They were too young to be drinking from the fountain and it had twisted reality. James tried to stop and there was where he found the real danger of the fountain.

The withdrawals were unbearable. Hours turned into days, turned into weeks of shaking and sweating and doing his best to avoid being seen by Peter. When it seemed the worst of it was over (or at least that he had gotten used to the thirst and the pain) he begged Tinkerbell to help him back to the mainland. She refused at first, not wanting to lose one of her ‘her boys’, but relented in the end. The mainland was not as he remembered. Almost a century had passed, far more time than he had realized. All he had to offer were outdated sailing skills, and he was forced to start all over. It didn’t take long to get the sea into his blood again. This time though, he was noticed by the ship doctor, becoming an apprentice. He spent a few years on the ship before the doctor warned him to move on. The fountain was still in his blood and he wasn’t aging, a face which people would begin to pick up on sooner or later. James moved to the next ship. And the next. And the next. Two hundred years passed before he looked like a teenager, finding himself second in command on a wealthy merchant ship.

The world entered a new age. From the land across the sea, slaves were imported to the South, to be sold all over Ustrya. James never meant to find himself on a ship used for for such a thing, but he did. He tried his best to live with it and in the end, he failed. While he looked like a boy, he had more years of experience than any of the others on the crew and he dispatched the captain without mercy, taking the ship. He there was enough money saved in the Captain’s quarters to pay the crew for the portion they would have received for selling the slaves, but there was still the matter of what to do with them. There would be no safety for them on the mainland and their home was no place to go back to. James knew of only one place they might be safe. Neverland.

Even after centuries, he could remember the way to his old home. He brought the would be slaves there, told them to take reign of the island but to avoid the fountain if at all possible. No sooner had they set foot on the shores, Peter appeared. To say he was angry was an understatement. It was a fight fit for the ages. In Peter’s eyes, James had betrayed him, left him all over again. Before long, the fight moved from words into physical. James did his best to not hurt Peter, his brother not having the same compassion. In the end, James lost his hand and Peter vowed that he would someday kill his brother.

James left Neverland a different man. He replaced his hand with a hook, earning himself a more colorful name and a path that felt clear. The life of a merchant was no longer a noble one with the introduction of slavery, and he turned instead to piracy. The first years of it were spent falling into every terrible thing a pirate might be accused of doing. It didn’t take long for that life to grow old. James was already old. He had made a name for himself already and and as time tempered his anger, he learned to direct it where it belonged. When it came to slaver ships, he had no mercy, burning the ships with the captain and most often, the crew. He gave the would be slaves options of the mainland, their home, or Neverland once they were free. He learned which merchants, which countries supported the practice and took the ships of those as well, though he was more merciful to those crews.

When it came to people, Hook learned the art of ensuring the belief that he was every bit the villain everyone thought of him as. It was easier that way, keeping himself from being burdened with people wanting his help. As for Neverland, he did return. His anger couldn’t burn forever and worry for his brother returned. The trip was nearly as fruitless as the previous, ending in another fight between him and Peter, and an unpleasant visit from a deity who took form of both woman and crocodile and had taken the wristwatch from his hand after Peter had cut it off and thrown it into the sea. She claimed he had a destiny, a responsibility to the world, and Hook left Neverland once again, unnerved by the encounter.

He found his own stowaway, one of the Lost Boys who had grown tired of the life and was looking for an escape. Smee became a part of the crew, and through the years, rose to first mate. Life went on in that sort of routine. Centuries passed, building him into a myth, gathering more Lost Boys with each visit, filling his life with countless fights with Peter as he tried to convince his brother to finally grow up. Now, Hook is tired, used up, softened with age. With a past full of constant adventures and a slow accumulation of powers, he still appears to be in his prime. He’s become adept with book magic, been gifted with abilities from different races, become dependent on the sea.

At some point, he began to bleed green. At some point, he began drinking salt water with his liquor. The crocodile still chases him down at every opportunity, filling his ears with nonsense about divinity and responsibility. Hook has had more responsibility than he can already bear in his life and he has reached a kind of tired which cannot be cured with sleep. His crew is nearly all Lost Boys now, besides a few trusted others. Few people are able to break past his crusty exterior, the short list involving Rowan and a young storyteller named Wendy, both of which he will never admit to feeling fatherly affection for.

#hook #jameshook #peterpan #UOR #characterbio

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gloves94 · 8 years ago

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White Holes [Cassian Andor] [1/10]

Warnings: None Pairings: Cassian Andor/OC Summary: Captain Cassian Andor was an Officer of Rebel Intelligence for the Alliance. An emotionless tool. There was nothing more to his life than following orders and working for the Resistance. Hell! His only friend was an Imperial droid named K-2SO. So what happens when he is struck by a love at first sight and meets Dr. Lya Stryker? Will their story have a happy ending? (CassianxOC)

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

The sun rose to see another day on the moon also known as, Yavin 4, and so did the injured man in the medical ward's bed. He could feel his whole body aching. He felt as if he had just been torn up, shredded and consumed by the wilderness of the galaxy. He opened his dry mouth in an attempt to speak, instead came out a painful groan. His free hand reached for his stomach which he clenched in horrendous pain. He couldn't remember what had happened. The last thing his memory had recollected was the almost ship crash as he was doing an emergency landing back at the Rebel base. He had been lucky to avoid one of those massive pyramids that the ancient Massassi had built on this moon.

"Ah, you have woken." A smooth voice said from somewhere in the room.

He found himself momentarily blinded by the bright light above; his eyes focused on a blurry figure before him. He suddenly felt a strange sensation. As a cold hand on his burning forehead. He couldn't help but initially flinch at the foreign touch, but somehow he managed to relax at the touch. He emitted harsh breath and his eyebrows knitted. Despite his pain, he could also feel that a fluid IV was attached to his arm, pumping much needed cool fluids and nutrients into his weak body.

"Rest." Despite the relaxed tone, the statement had almost sounded like a command to him. "Rest" The voice repeated.

In defeat, won over by exhaustion he allowed his eyes drop once again. He couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time they shut. He couldn't go like this. Had he given his entire life up for the rebellion just for it to end like this? The hand briefly rested on his forehead once again, and a pair of long fingers slipped to tangle his knotted brown hair.

Lux, a female nurse, and doctor in training observed the Doctor, her mentor, carefully. "Place him on some antipyretics," the Doctor began. "I want him in intense observation, and I want his fluids carefully regulated. Don't want him to lose his strength." She held a deep breath and observed the features of the man before her. He had long dark eyelashes, an unshaven face and dark shaggy hair which almost reached his shoulders. It appeared as if he had dug his own grave. He wasn't well. She closed her eyes and sighed. At this point, it was best to trust that the Force would do what was right and just. She could feel it was strong with him. Part of her knew he would make it. She adjusted her white lab coat before picking up the patient's clipboard and heading out.

"Let me know if he awakens, again," she tossed back to her younger apprentice.

There it was again- the blinding light. The one that seemed to burn past your eyelids and into the back of your brain. The Captain couldn't help but wonder if this was the afterlife? If it was, he certainly didn't feel at peace or any ease.

Mixed voices rang in his ears. The aching pain in his stomach, now more bearable served as a gruesome reminder of his current mortal status.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, this time with much more ease. He blinked away the blurriness and saw that before him stood two women and a man. One of the women was speaking. He didn't listen. He couldn't. The Captain found himself lost in a pair of azure violet eyes. He had never met a creature with such peculiar colored eyes. He noted that her mouth continued moving. He couldn't make out the words. She wore the formal attire that most medics in the Rebel Base wear, a white lab coat over her brown clothes. Her brown hair was styled short to her shoulders and was messily held up in a fat bun behind the nape of her neck. Her brown bands were nearly combed asymmetrically framing her eyes nicely.

At that moment he was struck.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, the hospitalized man ran a hand down his sharp jawline trailing his unshaven face. He couldn't bear removing his eyes from the intense violet ones before him. He was so aghast that he didn't even realize when she was beginning to explain his perilous situation to him. The Doctor revealed that he had been poisoned on a mission and that thanks to the Force he had made it just in time for them to inject him with the antidote.

"...Do you understand the gravity of your situation?" Adair, the male apprentice, and nurse repeated tapping on a clipboard impatiently. There was an uncomfortable silence in the small curtained room and the air filled with sudden tension. The Captain had a pair of bottomless, dark, eyes that seemed to peer into your soul. "Captain Andor?" Lux inquired with a small voice. The Doctor kept her eyes fixed on his not faltering for one moment. Both of the nurses looked at the Doctor concerned. They couldn't help but wonder if the patient had maintained brain damage from the crash. Regardless she kept her eyes glued to his dark ones. He didn't respond. Instead, he removed his hand from his beard, eyes still focused. It was hopeless. This had never happened to Cassian before. He had never had the use for friendships or any type relationship before. They were of no use to him. The closest thing he had o a friend was a droid named K-2SO, it wasn't even human. He was a Rebel. He had a vital cause to work for: freedom. Whatever relationships he had had in the past had all been short-lived.

'Fuck it...' he thought to himself. He felt a stirring inside him something consume his consciousness.

"Go out with me." Were the first words he uttered to her. For a moment the had forgotten the aching pain that trembled in his stomach. And the pulsating headache that made him want to rip his head off. Adair looked away with wide eyes attempting to ignore the awkward tension in the room. Lux blushed vibrantly and brought a hand to her face to hide her growing smile. They both turned to face the Doctor once again who had recuperated from the surprise and kept her cool. The corner of her lips turned upwards into a charming smile and she shoved her hands into her deep pockets as she shook her head from side to side. 'Well, this is a first...' She thought. "Captain Andor-" she spoke carefully in an attempt to correct the situation. "Cassian." He corrected her, and she noted he had a thick accent which belonged to a distant land. "As flattered as I am, you don't even know my name." She said still wearing that small smile. He kept his eyes alert and read the tag on her white coat. "Dr. Stryker," he said slowly. "Go out with me." He repeated determined. She observed him cautiously for a moment. Maybe he did have brain damage. "No," she said with a smile before walking away, still with that coy smile worn on her face. Her apprentices followed after her snickering at the idea of the usually serious doctor having such a bold suitor.

It became almost like a soap opera.

The scene would be reenacted every single time the Doctor would walk into the small curtain room to make her rounds. And every single time she would only shake her head with a smile. There had to be something wrong with this man's head. That crash landing hadn't been good for him. Cassian wouldn't give up. Whenever he asked it was never a request; it was always a demand for something he needed. He wondered if this was what it was like when sailors fell eyes upon the lost sirens in the depths of space. It was a lost cause. An obsession. He had been struck by an arrow and starred into the sun blindly. There was no way he was letting go now. He could remember the tales that his father told the mother he never met. "I saw her, and it was like time stopped." He would say to Cassian in his tender youth. "That's how I knew we had to be together."

Regardless, her answer never changed. He persisted.

"As flattered as I am, do you know how unprofessional that would be of me?" was one of her excuses. "Captain Andor, I'm afraid you are lucid," was another response. "I said no yesterday, and the day before and the day before. What makes you think I will say yes today?" She would always ask with a playful smile. "Captain Andor, if you already know what the answer will be, why do you keep asking?" She asked as he struggled to sit up in the uncomfortable bed. She sat close listening to his heartbeat with her stethoscope. There was no other excuse for his sudden infatuation "You must've hit your head really hard." She commented as she examined his cranium. Surprisingly he was quiet for a moment. The nurses had come to enjoy their interactions and would often merely attend to witness the fruitless attempts of the captain. Their unwanted presence was greeted with a severe glare from the Doctor and a "Have you finished your reports?" "Because there is always hope," he said calmly as he reached for her warm hand. The Doctor noted that despite the calmness in his voice his heart was aggressively hammering through her stethoscope. She saw the determined glint in his eyes. His calloused hand squeezed hers. She removed both of her hands from his person. She merely attributed his infatuation to something called Florence Nightingale syndrome. It wasn't uncommon for injured individuals to feel a sudden attraction for their caretakers. "Cassian," she began slowly. He looked at her surprised noticing that she had addressed by his first name. "Listen," she said reaching and placing her stethoscope around his head. She was about to speak again but was interrupted by her pager. She ignored it and resumed. "I want you to listen to something-" She said picking up the mouth of the stethoscope.

Again, that darn buzzing. It was an emergency. Embarrassed at the fact that petty flirting had gotten in the way of her medical duties. Without another word she bolted out of the curtained room Cassian mentally cursed as he spilled back into his hospital bed. He starred at the off lightbulbs above his head that he had grown used to. i'What was she going to show him?'/i He ran his hands over his face in frustration and slid deep into the covers. At this point, he was no stranger to failure.

The following afternoon, Dr. Stryker was making rounds as she usually did. However, today was different. She could feel the bottom of her stomach flipping with anxiety. She inhaled a deep breath and braced herself before swatting away the curtain that served as the door to Captain Andor's room, and she could feel her anxiety turning into panic at the terrible sight.

He was gone.

Panic surged through her.

He was gone.

His bed empty, sheets tangled. There was a terribly sick man wondering around the medical ward unsupervised. She immediately brought up her pager to her lips and alerted the other medics in the medical ward. This wasn't possible, he hadn't been discharged. After being in such delicate condition, it was compromising for the entire camp and especially for him to be casually walking about.

Especially after being poisoned and almost dying...

"Nurse!" she shouted as she ran out of the room breathlessly. "Nurse!"

When she reached the outside of the room, she was suddenly brought to a halt. In front of her, barely standing on his own feet stood Cassian leaning against the wall weakly, He wore a pair of beige hospital robes which contrasted with his shaggy appearance. On the one hand, he held a bouquet of bioluminescent violet orchid flowers, one of the native flowers of Yavin 4; he approached her stumbling on his bare feet. She rushed towards him, and he grasped onto her waist tightly allowing his weight to collapse on hers. She kept an equally tight grip on his arms keeping him on his toes. His grip tightened when he realized how close he was and he offered the flowers to her accidentally slapping her chin with them.

"S-sorry..." He apologized nervously. Once again he cursed at himself inside his head. "Idiot!" She exclaimed unhappily. He could've gotten hurt! How could he be so careless?! She called for assistance once again.

"Lya Stryker, will you go out with me. Please?" He asked with a smirk. She took the flowers in one hand and tossed them over her shoulder carelessly.

"Lya Stryker, will you go out with me?" he repeated as she carried him back to his hospital bed.

"Lya Stryker-" He was about to ask one last third time.

He wasn't going to give up. Every single time his eyes met her vibrant ones he felt it. That knot in his throat that fight or flight instinct kicking up inside of him stirring his stomach and usually focused emotions.

"So how did you get her to notice you?" He had asked his father that same day. The man scratched his chin and smiled at the memory of his late wide. "Just- if you ever find her son. Don't give up." He had smiled down at his son and patted his back shoulder.

It was rare to have such tender moments during the time of war. Perhaps that's why he remembered it so well. It was before the Clone Wars. Before his father accompanies his mother in the afterlife.

He was taken back when what sounded like agreement reached his ears. "Fine!" She exclaimed. "Maybe." She fumed hands on her hips. Her eyes focused on him with a sharp glare. This man... She wanted to ask if he was like this with every single woman he met.

A smirk edged on Cassian's face at the look on her face.

Perhaps, a maybe was better than a no. No?

AN: Let me know what you think I always appreciate feedback!

Chapter 1: [Here] Chapter 2: [Here]

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ncfn · 8 years ago

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Nothing Comes from Nothing: Chapter 15 Update

Nothing Comes from Nothing Update: Part 15 Swan Queen Story

Author: parakitty Co-Author / Beta: Lain Stardust

Summary: AU, Post Cricket Game, Emma casts a not-so-innocent locator spell, provided by Rumpelstiltskin, to find Regina, and the unexpected consequences bring Emma and Regina closer while revealing painful secrets that not only change their lives, but everyone else’s, too.

FF.net / AO3

"Did we make it?" David asked with slight hesitancy, untying himself and his wife. Absently, he straightened his clothes as he glanced around in awe, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. He had never been on the open sea. Then, distracted by the noisy hustle of the trained sailors onboard, he watched in fascination as the ship was prepared to set sail proper. He listened as Dave Salter shouted out commands and watched as Hook surveyed the horizon with a telescope.

Leaning heavily against Emma, who still hadn't released her tight grip around her waist, Regina looked over her left shoulder at the shepherd and groused, "We're alive, aren't we?" She winced and squeezed her eyes shut as she dropped her head onto her friend's shoulder. Exhaustion from the last day had finally caught up with her. "Obviously, we made it," she continued in a more subdued tone. "The question is where, exactly, are we?" she pondered, lifting her head and gazing out into the open sea. Her body tingled as the world's magic caressed her senses. Carefully, she straightened her posture and took a step away from the savior, making her way to the gunwale.

"I can't see any land," Mary Margaret commented, stepping into the middle of the main deck. She slowly spun around in a circle, peering off into the horizon.

Suddenly, there was the sharp clink of a telescope closing. Hook lowered the device and frowned. "That's because there isn't any," he remarked, trotting down the stairs from the quarter deck. "I'll need to consult my charts, but I'd estimate we're at least a few days out, give or take," he explained as he headed below to retrieve his navigation charts for Neverland.

"You couldn't have gotten us closer?" Emma called out, still hovering by the former mayor. Her eyes kept switching between the two, having Regina by the railing made her nervous. She subconsciously followed her and reached out to loosely hold the other woman's elbow. Her thumb stroked firmly over the joint.

"It wasn't my portal, Love," Captain Jones replied with a half snort. He nodded toward the ailing queen, jeering, "Perhaps you should confer with Her Highness." Then, he trotted down the ladder and disappeared below deck.

Whacking his cane hard against the planking, Gold purposely made his way toward his former apprentice. He straightened his suit as he snarled a stern reprimand, "You shouldn't have trusted him." He hadn't a clue what she was thinking, let alone how she knew of the Goblin King, but clearly, he had underestimated his star pupil's resourcefulness. He was also very curious as to what deal she had struck with Jareth.

"Oh, and you're any better?" the former mayor retorted darkly, glaring over her shoulder at him. Her hands gripped the rail tightly. When their eyes met, she bristled at the strange expression within them. No, she wouldn't be knocked off balance because Rumpelstiltskin was feeling nostalgic.

"We're here. That's all that matters," the school teacher interjected, stepping between the two magic users. She held her hands out, urging them to calm down. "We have to work together," she quickly reminded them, starting to feel ill-at-ease as she looked back-and-forth between the two. "We need to save Henry and Neal."

Regina restrained herself from tearing into Mary Margaret for her insipid, inspirational comments. She kept her breathing slow and measured as she waited for the Dark One to make a move. However, when her former master turned and walked away, she couldn't hide her confusion. The imp never missed an opportunity to ridicule her, but the quick squeeze on her elbow drew her attention back to Emma, whose soft smile quelled her swirling anger.

Thundering up the ladder, Hook burst onto the deck, holding a rolled-up map and a sexton. He quickly trotted back onto the quarter deck and weighed the map down on top of the wheel housing. "It's a quick calculation," he muttered, holding his hand up to the sun. He counted silently as he systematically dropped his hand downward. There were a few hours of sunlight left. "But, my best guess is we're a week out if we have a good wind," he continued, staring down at the map. He couldn't know for sure until nightfall, but the two stars visible during the day offered him a reasonable guess. "The good news��."

"There's good news?" Anne McCormac interrupted with a foul look. With hands on her hips, she watched the Salters and the other Crows Guard move around the vessel. She hated ships, and she especially hated ships on the ocean. But where her queen went, she would follow, always.

Narrowing his eyes at the despicable pirate, Gold challenged, "This is the fastest ship in all the realms, and a week is the best you can do?" He'd done his research on the famed Jolly Roger. Although small, it was quite the prize. His keen gaze met Salter's eldest boy's. He knew the expression of longing well.

"My ship may be made of enchanted wood, Crocodile, but it doesn't work miracles," Captain Jones replied with barely concealed venom. As Dave Salter joined him at the helm, he gazed down at his map. "Like I was saying, the good news is there's a small island along the way if we're where I think we are," he paused to point with his right hand at a small dot on the map in the middle of hundreds of nautical miles of water. "We can stop and restock fresh water and other supplies," he added, looking up to see that Prince Charming, Snow White, and the Crows Guard commander had joined them.

Looking between the three men, the shepherd nodded and proclaimed, "Sounds like a plan." His brow furrowed when Monty and Salter shared a quiet look. A hierarchy needed to be established, sooner rather than later, as well as an agreed upon leader. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced down at his wife.

Nodding at her husband's assessment, Mary Margaret scanned the weathered panel of paper. She'd only seen similar maps a few times and hadn't the faintest clue how sailors navigated the seas during the day. However, she decided to trust in the expertise of others and contribute her fair share. "What can we do to help?" she happily chirped, glancing between the men. She frowned when Salter snarled at his eldest daughter, demanding she train the land lovers.

Meanwhile, Regina had remained at the gunwale, content to let her commander and favored smuggler deal with the particulars of their seaward journey. "Well," she drawled as she slowly moved toward the ladder leading below deck, "since it seems we're on the extended voyage of the damned, I'm going to go take a nap." She couldn't remain standing any longer. A part of her feared she wouldn't make it to the cabin on her own. Gods, she hurt, and she was so tired. However, Emma stayed glued to her side, and she was quickly flanked by Bruce and Anne. Feeling secure and with an inane need to needle someone, she cheekily relayed, "Your cabin's ours, Pirate."

"Oy, it's my ship!" Hook shouted, storming toward the stairs to the main deck. But when two of Salter's teenagers blocked his path, he stumbled to a halt and frowned. His gaze quickly swept the people manning his ship and, with a huff, held up his hand and took a step back. He was captain of his ship in name only, it seemed. "Fine, fine," he relented, moving back to the helm.

Letting the Crows Guards assist the former mayor below, Emma flashed a bright smile at the pirate. "Dibs!" she called gleefully before hopping down the ladder-stairs.

#ncfn #swan queen #fan fiction #Regina Mills #emma swan #ouat #nothing comes from nothing

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zexxcandell · 8 years ago

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👿 - An Enemy

The Wayfarer was sinking.

Sevlaz sat back against the burning hull, his red eyes burning with hurt just as the fire did around him. His hand held tight to his stomach as he could feel the heavy out pour of black blood between his fingers. His usual loose finery was torn and singed from their current predicament, he'd always had a taste for the finery of life. Silver and gold, they were what he craved and was willing to do whatever he could for. He wasn't a large orc by any means, but he was tough and he was clever concepts generally lost to his people's brute strength and might. Sadly it seemed, this was the last time his cleverness was going to be of any use. His cutlass in the other hand hung loosely as it bumped against the aged timber of the deck, sending a clear ding of steel despite the roaring heat and screaming storm outside of the ship. Eyes blazing yet he looked across at the young human, the blue eyes of his apprentice staring back with unbridled fury and frustration.

"You done killed us all, boy. Ya know that right?" Came his gruff, furious voice calling out the young man. He was tall and lanky, but despite his beanpole stature there was a quickness that Sev had taken a shine to right away. Zexx was fun, he was fast, and he was his friend. Almost a son, and that was saying a lot from an orc about a human. But again he wasn't very much like his kin. He could still remember when they had picked him up in that gobo port, scrawny and broke trying to figure out where to find food and shelter since he'd dumped off that Kul Tiran refugee boat. It was a sad story for the kid, but it was a well told tale all over since the Scourge had come and razed Lordaeron to the stones.

Despite the horrific beginning, the last few years had been good. Jae had given him to Sev to train, finding the young man's fury was a good fit for the orc to temper. He'd done his best, teaching him to fight, to stand, to know where the money is coming and going. Lucky for him, Zexx was near clever as he was and soon they were running jobs all over the coasts together. Fighting murlocs, waylaying Theramore marines, and even breaking into an internment camp to free a pair of goblins. Looking back on it, probably would have been better to leave Gravelsnak in that death trap. And then Captain Jae had needed to leave, no word why or where but she said she had to go with a far off look to the west. She handed her sword to Zexx and disappeared into the wilds.

A bark of a laugh answered back followed closely by a crack of thunder causing the ruins of the ship to shake and groan in pain as it let more water below, the rocks below grinding into the broken and torn planks. "I did? You stupid old bastard, if you'd had some god damn guts we would have made it! We just had to stay the course and they would have broke chase!" Zexx was turning Jae's rapier in one hand as he began to mutter and pace again, his steps buckling here and there from the gash to his right leg. It had been a wild swipe and scored the orc a hit, but left him open to a thrust straight through his middle. Sevlaz's black blood was still leaking down his front, but he could also feel it weeping out his back in a steady drip.

"Zexx they tried to break chase, but Grav got sucked in just as we did! We didn't need this, we could have all gotten away. I don't know what the hell Jae was thin-" The orc shouted back, his harsh guttural words rolling into a lecture he was used giving to the sailor before he was cut off by the scream of frustration from the human. He was coming apart at the seams thought Sevlaz as he watched the dark haired man pace within the burning boat, neither of them seeming to care about their crumbling surroundings. His red eyes darted past Zexx and saw the still holding stairs leading up to the deck again, perhaps if he caught him off guard he could slip by him and somehow survive this. He'd been in tight situations before. Maybe Beil was up there and could come talk some sense into the would be 'captain'. Gritting his teeth and willing his thick fingers to tighten about the hilt of his sword he readied, his tongue starting into another lashing.

"Yeah you remember Jaetha? The woman who took you in? We all did you arrogant upstart, and now they're all dead cause of you. Cal. Beil. Kybb. Renah. We trusted you to keep this boat afloat! Instead you let your temper get the best of you over a stupid goblin and now you've damned us to this watery grave!" Zexx had stopped now in his pacing as Sevlaz's words struck at him as well placed as any sword thrust, the winces and flinches as the accusations flew at him. Sevlaz's anger blanched as he checked his footing and took a step forward with his weakening heavy step. "Son we ca-"

Thunder of a different kind roared to life from within the sinking ship, the smoking barrel of one of Beil's flintlocks held in Zexx's free hand. The boy was shooting blind of course as he held it out loosing from his side, but he supposed neither of them expected the large ball to tear through the orc's knee and send him crashing to the weakening floor. Sevlaz howled in agony as he let go of his wound and sword to try desperately to staunch the blood and pain staining the wood below him. His foot hung at a strange angle as the knee didn't seem to be in the right place any more. His hands soaked in black as he felt shock settling over him as he looked frantically from his leg and up to the human he knew as his friend. The gun lowered slowly as he turned to face his mentor, his shoulders squared as he glowered down at the dying orc.

"I am not your son." He tossed the heavy pistol to the floor with a thump before slipping the sword into his belt loop, blue eyes cold and empty as that of the monsters that took his father and mother. They were the last words spoken as he turned and limped toward the steps leading up from the hold and soon he was gone. The orc stared agape as Zexx left him, despite the warmth of the fire around him he felt cold and tired. His body growing heavier by the second he felt himself losing focus and fall back to stare up from the burning main deck, finding a breaking of wood to see a break in the swirling storm of the Maelstrom. One last sight of the stars of this world he had grown to love. His final thoughts drifting back to a woman he knew so long ago, when he was a young orc tending to the pigs. There was a female. She was his. He was hers. And he left. "Elras."

The heavy skinning knife fell from the orc's hand, her fingers twitching and shaking still as she felt as if a great pit had opened in her middle. ��Elras breathed heavy as if the talbuk below her had actually skewered her instead of falling to her spear. Something had happened. Something she did expect or know of, but knew a great sadness filled her heart as tears began to fill her eyes and she placed her sobbing face into her bloody hands. Intense and sorrowful as she wept, blood mixing with tears as he knelt before the dead beast beneath her. Suddenly a she felt a small strong hand touch her shoulder with a soft child's voice to follow, her head snapping up as she drew in a shaking breath again and tightened her calloused hands into fists. "Mother?"

"I am alright, Fenrag," her deep voice answering the worried word of her child. The fists relaxing from their intensity as she reached up to pat the small orc boys hand with a smile on her tusked face, turning to present it to the concerned boy in an act of reassurance. "I am alright, I promise. I just had a moment with the Spirits, reminding of the precious and fragile pact life carries."

The boy did not look convinced as he frowned at her still, but she was his mother and he a good son. Squeezing softly at her shoulder again he would come about to pick up the knife and offer it to her as he went around the other side of the talbuk they would have for many dinners to come. She smiled yet at her child as she began cleaning the beast again, her work soon filling the emptiness that had struck her so deeply. They finished in silence and they kept it all the way home, the red patch where the carcass had been among the green of the Nagrand high grass drying in the afternoon sun.

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characterbios11 · 6 years ago

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James Hook

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