Blue Skies Ever since the first Materion based engines were given to the nations Emenis and Sahneth, there has been war. Either country will tell you that it was the other that started it, but the truth was lost in time. All we know is that the skirmishes take place far away from home, above the large mountain range that separates the two nations and that in the last hundred years, neither country has ever managed to achieve air supremacy. And so the fighting continues, under the watchful eye of the Guild, the mysterious sky-bound organisation who makes sure that both nations uphold the rules set out by them. Those who do not follow their rules of war face terrible consequences, and entire airships have vanished after opposing them. Genre: Steampunk Adventure Nations: Emenis: Ruled by the House of Lords. Emenis is much like our United Kingdom was around the Victorian era; despite the war, there has been a long period of prosperity, which has lead to the development of a large well educated middle class. The tinkering with Materion has led to many new discoveries and applications, which has further stimulated the industrialisation of the country. All in, life is good for the average Emenisian. Emenis is currently in it’s Golden Age of Aviation, and airship races are getting increasingly popular. Sahneth: Ruled by High King Daenen Sahneth is, like Emenis, going trough some good years, although the country is not as developed as Emenis. It’s industry is mostly centred around Sahneth’s larger cities, and hardly any effort is being put into any research that does not aid the military. Class distinction plays a far more prominent role here then in Emenis. The Guild: Little is known about the mysterious ‘Guild’, apart from their role in combat and the fact that those ships that oppose disappear. Contact between the two nations and the Guild is rare. Materion based engines and airships Very little is known about the porous salt that is commonly known as Materion, or Sky Salt, apart from the fact that it dissolves in water and that this water can then be used to fuel the large reactionless drives that make it possible to lift the large airships. The origin of these drives is a mystery in itself; both Emenis and Sahneth claim that they were the ones who invented the first drives. The problem with these drives is not the amount of Materion they need to operate, but the fact that creating such a drive requires time and a large amount of funds. As such, the giant battle cruisers the army employs are rare. Smaller engines however are far more common, and affordable for those with money. The small ships that are powered by these specially designed steam engines are often used to transport goods or people, although they are also used to race in. Airships come in many different sizes, as small as the single-person race crafts to as large as the Emenis’s capital ship, the ES Victoria. The large battle cruisers deployed by both nations are well equipped for combat; all ships are covered with armour plating and host a large number of high calibre cannons. The Guild and the Rules of Conduct Although Emenis and Sahneth often clash, and battles are frequent, the actual ‘sinking’ of an airship is quiet rare, thanks to a mysterious organisation known as the Guild. They have always been around, as quiet observers, and very little is known about them. They show up whenever the two nations clash, and see to it that the fight remains fair and honour full, to the annoyance of many captains. Before all battles, the Guild sets the Rules of Conduct, also known as the Guild regulations. Two flares are lit, which determine the type of combat as well as how much damage can be done. The first flare is either grey, black or blue, the second is grey, red or green. Spoiler Flare 1: Gray – Everything is allowed Black – Heavy weaponry only Blue – Light weaponry only Flare 2: Gray – No regulation, retreating allowed Red – Till one of the airships is sunk, no retreating allowed Green – The first to be breached has to retreat The war The war has been going on for generations, and today’s population has grown up in a world where it is the norm. But in truth, the average citizen of Emenis has very little to do with the constant conflict. The news reports on the victories, occasionally the country mourns after the loss of a battleship, but that is where the interest in the war ends. Many see it as a necessary evil, and although not everyone supports it, no one truly opposes it either. Very little is known about the war, apart from the fact that over the last century or so, the fighting has been contained to the skies above the nameless mountain range that separates the two nations. Emenis claims that they are merely protecting their lands from a hostile invasion, patrolling the border making sure no ships come trough. Little is known about Sahneth’s intentions. Technology and transportation If war is the engine of Emenis, technology is the fuel. The Materion engines are the crown jewels of the nation, and are used in many ways, from the battleships to the smaller aircrafts, but lately nobles have even started to request floating chairs and tables. The applications are seamlessly endless, and many engineers like to push the limits of the possibilities, creating things like the riflepack, which is basically a backpack sized Materion engine, that can be connected to a rifle, allowing the wearer fire it without the use of gunpowder. As a result, one can reload faster. The riflepack, however, never truly had it’s breakthrough; the military has little use for infantry weaponry like these. Instead, the packs are more commonly found in the form of drillpacks, which power pneumatic drills. But the technology doesn’t stop with the Materion engines; clockworks of any sort are popular, and every self respecting gentleman owns a watch of some sort. Although the fastest and easiest way to travel is by airship, it is expensive to create ships big enough to transport goods or people. Instead, the citizens depend on steam powered boats or trains for long range transport. Although a trip in a privately owned airship is always available for those who can afford it. Airships and people to know ES Victory – Captained by Captain Franklin – The largest battleship known today, captained by the world famous Captain Edward Franklin. Capital ship of the Emenisian fleet. ES Behemoth – Captained by Captain Hamlin – One of the oldest battleships of the fleet. Fearsome, despite of it’s outdated weaponry, home to some of the best pilots around. HMS Humility – Captained by Desmond Monroe – When the true captain died in combat, the second in command, a young man named Desmond Monroe took control over this relative small battleship. Ever since, he has made quiet a name for itself. The Four Lords of Emenis – Lord Hamlin, Lord Colfax, Lord Wilson and Lady Wheeler – The rulers of Emenis, if one was to use such terms. Your story You are a proud citizen of Emenis, born and raised in a time of prosperity and technological advancement. To you, airships are common, as are many of the other technological miracles of your time. You are currently in a town called Nemdée, which lies on the slopes of the mountains that separate your nation from Sahneth. The town is a well known tourist spot, not only because it lies close to one of the nations largest military airbases, but also because of the Nemdée race, which is held three times a year. The first race ended a week or so, and the next one is scheduled to take place in another three weeks. You either live in Nemdée, you have come to see the military base or are just very early for the next race. Your character Name: Age: Sex: Occupation: (Engineers, researcher, navigator, as well as any of the more common occupations; shopkeeper, teacher, carpenter etc.. Former military, or even military that is currently on leave, is allowed, elite-trained from youth-master-assassin is not) Personality: (The way your character acts.) Description: ( The way your character looks. Think about what type of clothing you are wearing. If your character is part of the upper class, dress him accordingly. Top hats and morning coats are popular for the gentleman, corsets and dresses for the ladies. Think “Early Edwardian, late Victorian”.) Background: (A brief synopsis of the events that have shaped your character's life)
Name: Myra Evelyn Age: 22 Sex: Female Occupation: unemployed (free spirit.) Personality: Myra is spirited and adventurous. She’d sooner spend her time roaming the streets then spend time being lady like. Myra was raised in Nemdee, she has lived there her whole life. Her father a traveller though caring of his daughter often lets her roam. Myra has learnt to be self sufficient. She can pick a pocket faster then most can blink and has a charm that tends to get her out of the trouble she makes for herself. Myra believes anything a man can do so can she even if it isn’t always better. Description: Myra has a child like face with large hazel eyes. Her hair is golden brown and often hangs in unruly ringlets of curl. Myra tends to wear black, the outfits vary from knee length dresses to mens pants and caps. Most of her clothing is either stained or torn Myra tends to be careless. Background: to be added at a later date.
Name: Chaos Pyrrhus Age: 18 Sex: Male Occupation: researcher Personality: Chaos is very laid back, loves puzzles and chess, thinks most people are idiots, flirts a lot, tends to be a little vain about his appearance Description: He has long hair that goes to the middle of his back, he keeps it dyed white, his nails are painted silver, has a very feminine face, tends to wear basic t-shirts and pants, wears a knee length black jacket and low heeled boots. Background: Chaos grew up in the lap of luxury and never has to worry about income. Graduated first among his peers at the university and has chosen to research the history of the war and the guild. He came to Nemdee to watch the air races.
Name: Luke Caspius Age: 23 Sex: Male Occupation: Unemployed. Personality:Luke is a charismatic and confident young man. So far his life has been a series of impulsive decisions made with the purpose to avoid responsibility and what he sees as the evil of growing up, to the increasing frustration of his father. He has a carefree, lavish and irresponsible lifestyle, funded by his father. In his life, everything he has ever wanted has been given to Luke and as a result he does not see the true value of things. Very much aware that most people consider him a waste of potential, he does nothing to counter their opinion and instead lives up to their expectations. As well as the playful persona he usually wears, there is also a darker and more depressive side to his character. However, every so often he sets his mind to something and proves to be very intelligent and persistent. Description: Luke is handsome with sparkling green eyes and tousled brown hair. He is 6'2" with an athletic build. He typically wears dark trousers and a waistcoat, covered with a dark overcoat. Background: Born into a life of wealth and privilege, Luke was the youngest of three brothers. His elder siblings went on into respectable and sucessful careers. After the death of his mother when he was sixteen, Luke began to constantly argue with his father and then his two brothers as they sided against him. Although well educated, he has made no effort to find a job.
I'm in! Name: Catrin Thornton Age: 21 Sex: Female Occupation: Teacher Personality: Catrin is a very gentle person, but while she is very patient with the children she teaches, if she disagrees with an adult she can be quite short-tempered and snappish. She gives the first impression of being very reserved and proper, but she has a wild, adventurous side that often surprises people. Description: Standing about 5'4", Catrin is of average height and slender. She has very fair, cream-coloured skin, with chestnut hair that she keeps tied back in a loose, low ponytail, tied at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. Her eyes are an amber-coloured hazel, behind a pair of round, wire-framed glasses. She tends to wear conservative clothing; a bell-sleeved white blouse, pale blue corseted waistcoat and a floor-length navy skirt. Background: Catrin's father was a university professor who married late in life. Her mother was beautiful, but of lowly birth and died when Catrin was very young. Her older brother was sent away to boarding school, and as a result Catrin spent much of her childhood alone, reading and daydreaming, pretending she was somewhere far away having adventures. Her only real interaction with her father was when he was tutoring her. Eventually she, too, was sent away to school, where she learnt etiquette and manners as well as continuing with academic subjects. When she was 18 she returned to her father's house for a year, and was then offered a teaching position at a well respected school in Nemdee, where she has been since.
Name: Danny Hale Age: Just turned 13 Sex: Male Occupation: Student at an acclaimed bording school. In his spare time, he helps make blades as an apprentice to a humble sword welder. Personality: Quiet and reserved due to his history, but once you find a friend in him, you've found an unshakable ally who'd give anything for his friends. Description: He hays dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes. He's short, thin, and youthful looking. When in school, he wears the fancy uniform which is a suit-esque outfit. When on leisure time in his dorm, he wears simple clothes because the fancy clothes are uncomfortable. Such clothes are tanish outfits with a green outer upper garment. (I suck at this) Background: Danny grew up as a young child, having everything a child could want. He was happy and had "the life." That was until at age 8, he was kidnapped by enemy forces and held prisoner for 3 years. During this time, he was made subject tp unspeakable tortures. Although it would later be found that not a drop of blood of his was shed, his father testified that no blade could've cut his son deeper than he had been cut. Danny was found after three years, floating in a river. He was thought dead when found, but was revived. He was different from then on, however. When no progress was made, he was sent to the boarding school where he currently resides. To this day, nobody knows the extent of his torture.
I love this! Airships and steampunk...a really different game. Thanks, CG! Name: Rose Daughney Age: 24 Sex: Female Occupation: Actress/Singer Personality: Initially reserved when she meets someone, Rose enjoys being around people. Ingenue (youthful with an air of innocence) and can be a bit of a prima donna. Occasionally enjoys innocently dropping a shocking but humorous remark to get a reaction. Description: Rose stands about 5'4" with auburn hair that she keeps swept up in the style of the day, always with her signature rose in her hair. Her complexion is rosy, too, and her face heart-shaped, eyes large and a sparkling blue-green. She is a bit of a clotheshorse and will carry as many outfits as she can fit into her considerable luggage. Generally favors off-the-shoulder dresses that show off her tiny waist, skirts are normally layers of ruffles. Background: Daughter of a clothier, Rose has always been accustomed to having many nice things. She has been well educated in academics and etiquette even if she wasn't an enthusiastic pupil. She loves music and performing and accepts the fact that as an actress she has a less-than-perfect reputation though whether she has earned it or not is debatable. She has gained some minor respect and celebrity for her singing ability.
Name: Sam Fredricks Age: 19 Sex: Male Occupation: Pilot/Message delivery man Personality: Eager to please, if a bit shy. He is soft spoken unless he really has something he feels he needs to stand for. Kind to the point of being a push over, if you ask for something and he has it, chances are you'll get it, also caves under pressure. discription: Short at 5'9, messy brown hair, sky blue eyes, cute youthful face that often gets him mistaken for younger than he is. Mostly wears coveralls, plain brown colored, covered in grease stains, often has grease on his face too. Flight gloves, plain working boots, a warm flying cap that has the side wings that go over his ears, and a pair of goggles that are usually resting atop his cap except while flying. background: Son of a pilot who crashed when he was ten, he grew up with his mother always planning to follow his fathers path and fly. Got his self flying at 16 and now lives in a small apartment with a garage were he works on his ship.
Name: Simon Lancaster Age: 24 Sex: Male Occupation: aristocrat, entrepreneur, engineer Personality: Laid back, charitable, always friendly; often confines himself to the laboratory, but occasionally takes a stroll around town in search of "inspiration," where he engages in conversation with total strangers; likes to hear other people's opinions and rarely asserts his own Description: 6' average build, straight black hair, and green eyes, sometimes wears glasses; dresses very formally, usually in black trousers, a button-up white shirt with a black vest and overcoat, black top hat, and an assortment of gold pocket watches; when working, he replaces the overcoat with a dirty lab apron, but everything else remains the same Background: Simon was born into a wealthy family, but never had much taste for the idle lifestyle. As a child, he wandered the streets of Nemdee in search of small adventures, returning home only to eat and sleep. His mother died of illness when he was still young. A few years later, his father died on an expedition to parts unknown, leaving Simon the sole inheritor of the massive Lancaster fortune. By his sixteenth birthday, he had already designed and constructed his own airship, the Faefalken, named after his mother, Fae Lancaster, and had done extensive research on Materion as well as conventional steam propulsion. Today, he runs a shop in Nemdee where he services clockwork mechanisms and steam engines while still researching his own projects in his spare time. Though he has dumped much of his fortune into his work and charities, he remains an upper-class citizen and is often scoffed at for his willingness to associate with the lower classes. His airship, the Faefalken is currently collecting dust in a field on the outskirts of Nemdee, where it has been for many years. His shop, down the street from the Nemdee School, is doing quite well and is frequented by many people.
Under construction.... Name: Alec Valentine Age:26 Sex: Male Occupation: Former Miltary journalist turned shopkeeper. Owns a small establishment that deals in new and used books, aptly named "Valentine's Books" located on the outskirts of the shopping district. He lives in an apartment located just above. Though he no longer refers to himself as a professional journalist , he's still a devoted writer, and submits the occasional controversial article to the town paper, making his name relatively well known among the paper's subscribers. Personality: Charming. Passionate. Nerdball. Enjoys learning new things and is extremely inquisitive, sometimes to the point of annoyance. He knows a lot about people and the nature of humanity and uses that knowledge to his advantage when confronted with a problem. He is cautious and wary to trust strangers at first, but once you've proven yourself to him he is a great and loyal friend. Not exactly a pacifist, he knows that violence can be used for good in certain situations, he almost always tries to avoid physical confrontations. The way he carries himself changes with the situation, he can carry himself in a prideful, self-confident manner when neccessary, but most of the time he just tries to blend in and not draw any attention to himself. He's a people watcher and a part-time writer, people don't react naturally when they know you're watching them. Ever in search of "The Truth," He is somewhat of a dreamer and a lover of the arts. Description: 6 feet, reasonably attractive (in a geeky jake gyllenhal sort of way). Short hair, about 180lb, slim but non-athletic. Pale white skin, sharp features, with black hair and almost always has a five-o-clock shadow. He wears a pair of spectacles with silver, perfectly round frames with gray, almost silver, eyes beneath. When at the store, he dresses in a black linen suit with polished black shoes and a part in his hair. When in pursuit of a story he dresses in whatever the situation calls for. when at home relaxing, writing, or wandering the lamplit streets at night, he dresses in a white button-up, a brown newsboy cap with a brown leather hunting jacket, brown linen pants and brown leather boots, he refers to this outfit as his "adventuring clothes." Background:
Name: Thomas Adams (also called Tommy) Age: 19 Sex: Male Occupation: reluctant thief/conman... Tommy's gambler brother Randall gets into a lot of jams, and he has to work off the debts by scamming the rivals of those who are owed money... he's poor, so occasionally he steals on his own to get by... Personality: heart of gold... ashamed of his life, so he usually tries not to talk about it, or he'll lie(he tries to keep that to a minimum)... he has trouble taking people for their word, but his tact won't let him call anyone out, unless he's certain he's being lied to... confident, but doesn't always look one in the eye... sometimes gets tongue-tied around nice, beautiful women(they make him honest at times)... Description: 5'10 with a solid frame... deceptively strong(from climbing and leaping roofs, gates, etc.)... green eyes, bright smile, black hair with a part down the middle... hair slicked sideways, slightly longer in the front, tips fall in front of his face(Jason Biggs on Loser)... strong jawline and chin, looks to be older than he really is... black vest, black dress pants and black leather boots with low heels(he steals clothing periodically to keep with the latest fashions and keep his appearance up)... pocket watch given to him by his late father... Background: orphaned at age 9... his father was killed in war, and his mother died from heart disease... Tommy took his brother and found shelter in an abandoned house away from the tourist attractions... they turned to life in the streets for their daily bread... Tommy chose to steal, his brother Randall chose to gamble... Tommy picked up on the conman routine when he talked a group of gangsters out of killing Randall... for ten years they've made due, but Tommy's looking for something better for the two of them...
Under construction - mostly finished except for the personality section. Name: Jens VanHaag Age: 30 Sex: Male Rank/Title Warrant Officer/Chief Supply Officer at Nemdée Airbase Occupation: Active Military - Supply Personality: Enjoys reading, playing chess, and riding horses. He is always looking for new useful gadgets to offer on base. I'm trying to think up more but haven't yet. Description: 5'9" with short brown hair, brown eyes, and no beard. Bushy eyebrows. Generally wears his military uniform which consists of blue pants, black boots, blue cylindrical hat about 6 inches tall with a short visor, blue shirt with three inch cuffs with the cuff being set off from the shirt by a silver band of cloth. The blue shirt has a one inch collar that covers half the neck which is lined by silver on both the top and bottom and has a half inch opening at the front. The shirt has nine silver buttons in the front. Attached to the left side of his collar is one gold circle to indicate his rank as the highest warrant officer. Inscribed on the gold circle is an airship to signify that he is the chief supply officer. Background: Jens has lived in Nemdée most of his life. The times he hasn't actually lived in the town was in his early years in the military when he lived in the barracks on Nemdée Airbase. He started out working in a supply warehouse at age sixteen but was soon moved into the office where he ordered replacement/repair parts for airships, trains, weapons, and equipment. As the years went on he distinguished himself as a person who knew all the inner workings of supply and so after three years as a sergeant he was given a warrant by the commanding officer of the Nemdée Airbase and put in charge of all supply functions on the base. These days Jens or one of three sergeants under him meet each airship as they land, get a list of supplies needed to resupply the airship. When Jens meets the airships he usually talks with the captain or one of his lieutenants. He has been married for 11 years and has two daughters (ages 10 and 9) and one son (age 7). Due to his warrant and position he makes a good amount of money and so has a good sized house in Nemdée with a few servants. He commutes to and from the base each day using the train. He knows Simon Lancaster since he often frequents his shop for himself and the base when clocks need to be repaired or replaced. He knows Alec Valentine because that is one of the shops he frequents when in search of a new book to read and add to his personal library.
Name: Miser [Me-zer] Age: 20 Sex: Male Occupation: A beggar, homeless, etc. Personality: Composed, quiet, wise,intelligent, he is polite as well, even friendly. He also can out talk any man in the city, his vast hordes of knowledge allow him to outsmart a man with words and not weapons. His politeness and friendliness often allows him to speak to the local people real well. He is gentle and that gentleness allows him to skate on the margins of life, since some people come with their leftovers to him. Description: Miser is dangerously thin his arms and legs look like sticks or maybe a skeleton hand came out of the grave, after all he has lived 9 years of his life as a street beggar. For the most part his brown hair is coming out, he has liquid blue eyes, and pale skin. Miser wears a ragged coat, ripped trousers, and a white button shirt. He has no shoes and walks around the streets. Background: Miser actually lived quite a nice life before, when he was 6-10 years old he lived in a nice middle class home. With what appeared to be loving parents. Miser was always the odd boy sitting by himself and writing strange complex mathematical formulas. He could break something apart and fix it right away make it something new, brand new and different from it's original form. But on his eleventh birthday the atmosphere of the home changed a bit. His father wanted him to be a doctor and all Miser wanted to do was own a bookstore. Out of rage Miser's father sent him out on the streets a homeless kid, he never found anyone to take him in and he ended up being the man on the streets. The streets have left him weak chronic illness and the lost of body weight. But it doesn't stop him. He wants that bookstore.
Name: Rory Hawkes Age: 20 Sex: Male Occupation: Racer/ Gambler they work hand in hand. Personality: A show off that enjoys theatrics making himself the centre of attention. Overly confident and can sometimes be slightly overbearing. Description: Black hair down to shoulders, clean and straight quite thick. Wears a black figure hugging suit when racing with a picture of a hawk with its claw out on his back. When in public/ gambling he goes for a less in your face clothing style more appropriate for the times so he can approach the upper class and make bets with them since thats were the money is. Black suit, white shirt, black tie and cuff links shaped as eagles. Has one sleeve rolled up slightly to show his watch. Wears a top hat and carries a cane at points enjoying the theatrics he can get into with it. Also carries a multi tool that he claims is due to his racing nature however the reality is the knife element offers him some protection and its also another means of showing off by twirling it around in his hand. Background: Rory recently participated in a race and whilst showing off managed to write off his latest vehicle now he's playing the town trying to win enough money to get another vehicle to race with and at the same time seduce who ever he can so he has a roof over his head for the time being. His father is a race mechanic which got him into the world of racing and after quarelling with his father about his gambling habbits he left with one of his clients choosing the life of the race at the age of 20, there he picked up some training and after travelling with him for 9 months watched him die in an accident whilst racing. THis however didn't phase him he decided to pursue a career for himself and set off to make a name for himself.
Nemdée. Self-proclaimed racing capital of the north. Situated comfortably close to one the largest airbases of Emenis. The man smiled and briefly touched the large brown envelope he had hidden under his brown coat before he started walking again. No one would look for him here. Here, he wouldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found. And he very much doubted he wanted to be found any time soon. As he got closer, the sun started to set, and the man saw how the street lights were being kindled. The shops were closing down, the pubs and inns were slowly filling up. Not completely unlike home. Perhaps the two nations weren’t so different. He sure hoped they weren’t; he doubted he would ever be able to return home. Again, he brushed the brown envelope. The former owners would definitely want it back, and they would be watching his home. Little did they know that wasn’t planning on returning. Although the inns in the city centre seemed luxurious, it wasn’t what he was looking for. He didn’t have a lot of money on him, and he might have to stay here for a while. As such, he left the city centre and looked around until he eventually found a large square building with a sign that read “Tinker’s Tavern”. He shook his head, wondering what genius had come up with that name, but entered never the less. The common room was large enough to host over a hundred people, and was obviously meant for a larger crowd then the one that had gathered today. The man snorted and sat down at the bar, signalling the bartender for a drink. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1; Introductions *Show what a typical evening looks like to your character *Reveal something about your character's past *Have your character interact with a an NPC *Gather at the Tinker’s Tavern The Tavern is well known throughout Nemdée, and is considered the place to be during the racing season. Since the racing season is over, there are not as many people gathered there today. It is, however, still a popular place to go after work, as well as a good place to meet racers, engineers or friends of all kinds.
Rory sat in the tavern casually sipping his pint. It wasn't the best place for making money but after the last two days of gambling with the upper class he had come to realise they were to tight with their money here. Instead he had choosen the tavern he knew its reputation for racers and was hoping he could take advantage of a drunken racer and when his airship. He was good at gambling but he wasn't quite sure how he would be able to get someone to bid their ship given its value. He had come to the conclusion drink was the best solution and thus the tavern provided the perfect interaction between his two options. He sat alone in his racing suit. The black leather hugging his figure making him stand out from the rest of the group, some in shabby dirty clothes who were obviously engineers and others just more casual. Wearing his suit would have been just as inappropriate at least this guise showed he belonged here. A drunken man staggered over to him and leant on the table for support banging his knee and sloshing his beer over the table. Hardly becoming behaviour regardless of class. He looked up at the man defiantly. What the hell did he want. "Your the one that totalled his ship the other day aren't you. What kind of fool tries pulling a stunt like that. You young ens are all the same. No concept of how to race." Rory sighed and reached inside his pocket producing a multi tool he snapped his hand out as a piece of metal swung over exposing a blade and knocking onto his knuckles he threw it slightly in the air and caught it in the other hand and started to roll it between his fingers impatiently. "I don't appreciate your tone. What's say you drag your worthless self off this table unless you want to put your words to the test and let me show you up. I'm not fussy I could do it with this knife right here or we could do it in a race." he smiled snidely at the man exposing his teeth curling his lips into a sort of snarl.
Miser sat in his normal little corner. He had turned that little corner into his home, that is were he slept at night. It was a warm place during the winter and a good cool place during summer. It was the right pickings. And of course many people were friendly on this street. They didn't give him all of the attention, but they certainly didn't forget about them. He had heard stories about beggars and homeless men being mauled by children and even grown men. Of course these were in the newspaper he would take from people once they were done. The only problem he may have for most of the evenings was that people would step all over his formulas. He liked numbers, he liked how they had a connection with everything in the world. Though he wasn't picky about formulas or numbers. For the most part he has maintained his sanity for these nine years. Though he really disliked how noisy the cities got when the races were going on. He never got an ounce of sleep when that happened. Also ignorant racing fans, mostly kid boys, would call him old man. He wondered if he truly looked old. Why was he worrying about these things at this moment? Aw, because it was a peaceful night. No goons on the street.
Sam lifted his goggles from his eyes and let them rest upon his warm hat as the little ship wound to a stop in his garage after a long day of flying here and there. He unbuckled and slipped easily out of the cockpit and ot the floor. He stood there for a moment and put a hand on his ship, his. Feeling good after another day of flying. Not many people got to do what they loved for a living, and he was not one to be ungratefull. "If your done with this fond moment, I'll take my share of the profits, I've plans." Came the harsh voice of his current navigator. Frank, a tall man with a big beard and an obvious drinking problem. Sam thought to himself that he should replace him soon, but sighed and wiped some sweet from his forehead and then wiped that on his coveralls before unzipping one of his many pockets and pulling out the day's earnings. He counted out what he knew was Frank's share and handed it to the man who snatched it quickly. "Is this really it? Are you sure you arn't ripping me off?" The man said glaring at Sam. Sam would normally had been intimidated but after working with Frank for the last few months he had gotten used to being accused of everything. He had never been able to keep a navigator, none of the ones he had used ever seemed to fit him, so he always ended up going his seperate ways eventually, but still, Frank was one of the worst. "I counted it twice, we only took two star missions, what did you expect." He replied. Sam would have prefered harder assignments, but not until he had a navigator he could trust. "Damn." Frank cursed softly and left with out another word. His drive to get a drink overcoming his stupidity. Sam was all to happy to see him go and popped the hood on his ship pulling out a wrench and began making sure nothing came loose. Better to be overly safe than sorry. The work didn't bother him though, he liked the smell of the grease, and the warmth of the recently used engine, and soon enough was finished, though he had more freash stains of grease on his coveralls and a smudge of it on his cheek. He decided that it was time to head out and get something to eat. One last pat on the side of his ship and he walked out, closing and locking the garage behind him. Tinker's Tavern shouldn't be to crouded this time of year, and he was sure not to see Frank their, frank only hit up the cheapest of cheap places. So Sam walked slowly, in no rush, hands in his pockets, covered in fresh grease, down the street. Tinker's Tavern was only a few blocks walk, and he reached it without to much trouble. Entering the front while trying not to attract to much attention and found himself an empty table where he sat down and waited paitiently for the waiter to ask him for his order.
The cobbles passed slowly under his feet as Luke Caspius meandered down the street. The woman clinging onto his arm drooped as they walked further and further through the city. He stared ahead, hands in the pockets of his dark overcoat. “Luke!” He blinked and looked down, unaware that she had been speaking. “Yes, Lucille?” “You said that you were going to take me airship racing,” she said, pouting. “I will.” He took one hand out of his pocket and gestured at the road ahead. “Through the clouds, over the moon. And I’ll never bring you back.” She gazed up at him and giggled. “Father says that you’re a bad influence.” “He’s right,” Luke replied, returning his attention to the road ahead. “I’m a good bad influence.” Inside, he sighed. This woman was becoming too much. Too clingy, too expectant. She was beautiful, but about as interesting as anything in this town at the moment. He was bored. Enough was enough. He closed his hand around his wallet and handed her a coin. “For the car.” Her perfectly painted face fell. “Aren’t you coming?” “No. I have to book the tickets,” he lied. The smile returned. “I could come too?” “Ah no, it’s a surprise.” Luke hailed a passing cab and pulled the door open. “Will I see you tomorrow?” “No I have business to attend to.” They both knew it was a lie. Luke had nothing to do with his time but pursue his own satisfaction. She pasted on a smile and climbed in, a wistful look in her eyes. “I hope to see you soon, Luke.” As he watched the cab drive away, Luke shoved his hands into his pockets and listened to the sounds of distant laughing. The night was full of potential, yet he was standing and staring at nothing like someone with no place to go. He turned on his heel and strode past many of the sophisticated inner city bars, seeking somewhere cheap even though his overcoat pockets jingled with money. With potential. He would find somewhere where his money would go further, drink himself into a merry state and then gamble his fathers money away, he decided. He stopped at the corner. One bar seemed to stand out to him. Luke crossed the street and stepped inside Tinker's Tavern. Several of the young ladies nearest immediately eyed him up and smiled. He ignored them and moved to the bar, taking a handful of coins from his pocket and dropping them on the surface. “Keep the drink coming,” he called to the barman.
Okay, I was looking at it, and I CAN'T resist. My activity will be limited by what my Doc tells me tomorrow. Just cramming this profile in here for now. Name: Miles Thatcher Age: 26 Sex: Male Occupation: Painter, Poet, and Musician Personality: Considered eccentric and odd, Miles takes almost nothing at surface value, and he has little care or use for surface things. He sees depth everywhere, even in places where generally it couldn't be seen. This manifests in his manner by giving Miles a slow, quiet, elegant manner. Many are put off by him initially, since he doesn't make small talk; he goes right to deep questions and drives. Description: Miles has long, straight brown hair that is usually combed back. It reaches just above his shoulders and is always clean. He wears an old brown jacket whose sleeves are a little too long. Under this, he wears a simple button-up shirt and brown cord trousers. He has pale green eyes. Background: Much of Miles' past is a mystery, even to him. His earliest boyhood memories were in a monastery, where he was raised by deeply religious monks. He had not one father figure, but many. Here, he was surrounded by thoughts of depth and feeling, and taught much of peace and harmony. He was told by the monks during his adolescence that he was now ready to leave them and go make his way in the world. They had taught him everything they could, and recognized that he desired more. He went out into the world observing how it worked, and got a job at a university as a servant. From there, he continued his observations, and developed a love for music and art. He began to take it up himself in his spare time, and took to it naturally. A professor recognized his talents, and offered to pay his way through university. Miles accepted. He now makes money as a painter, writer and street musician. However, he only actually sells his work when he runs low on money. Most times, he performs and paints for free, out of love for the art. Theme: "Marooned" by Pink Floyd
Shadows danced across the walls as the candle flame flickered in the gentle evening breeze. For a brief moment the moss green wallpaper seemed black, and the open books on the desk could not be read. Catrin Thornton gave a quiet sigh of vexation and set down her pen to coax the candle back to life. The flame spluttered and hissed, then settled, and a soft glow spread out once more. Able to read once again, Catrin took up her pen and leant back in her chair, casting her eyes down at the open pages. She was near the end of her marking for the night; only the first years’ exercises on poetry remained, and of them there were not very many. After the excitement of the racing season the younger students often found it difficult to get back into the routine of lessons with nothing to distract them. The rest of the students’ exercise books were gathered into neat piles on the floor and desk, collected according to year. Each year seemed to be larger than the next; while the final year numbered only some twenty students, the first year comprised nearly one hundred. It made for a good few hours of marking every evening, and Catrin often fell asleep at her desk, waking late into the night when the candle had burnt itself out. She yawned now, feeling the familiar tiredness creeping over her. Running her hands through her chestnut curls, falling loose around her shoulders rather than being tied back as usual, she blinked and tried to focus. She would finish this one more, and leave it for the evening. “Oh, Liam,” she murmured, crossing out several basic grammatical mistakes. During her childhood her father, an eminent university professor, had personally tutored her. He had been a stiff, grey man, very proper and upright, and one for always following the rules. He had impressed upon his young daughter the importance of good grammar, and it was a lesson that had stuck most forcefully. Now a teacher herself, at a prestigious boarding school in Nemdee, Catrin had a reputation as a stickler for grammar. She circled a few spelling mistakes in the unfortunate Liam’s book, writing a note in the margin reminding him to double check his work in future. Liam Carver, the son of a rich banker, attended his classes under duress and did his utmost not to learn, but Catrin would persevere. A quiet knocking at her apartment door distracted her, and she half turned in her chair. “Yes?” “Catrin?” The door was pushed open, and a head peeked around. The head was female, a few years older than Catrin, framed by a cascade of flaxen-fair hair. Large blue eyes sparkled at her and a full-lipped, rosy mouth was stretched into a mischievous smile. “Georgia. Everything alright?” Georgia Harris was one of Catrin’s fellow teachers, the Etiquette mistress. It was in Catrin’s view a very ironic appointment, as despite her thorough teaching of ‘proper behaviour’ Georgia was always running riot with whatever handsome young man had caught her eye that month. “Everything’s fine, Kitty … but I was wondering,” the use of her pet nickname for Catrin warned her that there was trouble ahead. “I was wondering if you’d want to come out with me this evening.” “Come out? Where?” Catrin asked suspiciously. “Just out …” “Georgia,” Catrin said warningly. “Well, alright, to the Tinker’s Tavern.” Georgia pursed her lips together pleadingly. “Please?” “You want to go a tavern?” “Yes, which is why I need you with me,” Georgia explained, “It would be … unseemly for me to go alone.” “It would be unseemly for us to go, full stop!” “Oh, please, Kitty!” “What’s his name?” Catrin asked with a sigh. “Joshua Greyson. He’s so handsome, Cat! He said to meet him there,” Georgia blinked, her doll-like face scrunching up. “Please? Please, please, please?” It never ceased to amaze Catrin that her friend managed to act more like a student than a teacher. She frowned, unsure still. “Please, Cat. You’re ever so respectable – it will be fine if you’re with me!” “Oh … Georgia …” Catrin hesitated in the full force of Georgia’s baby blue gaze. “Oh, fine. Just for an hour, though.” “Thank you!” The Tinker’s Tavern was only a short walk from the school. Georgia waited as Catrin pulled on a coat, but when she went to tie her hair back grabbed her arm and half dragged her from her apartments and out of the school grounds. So, arm-in-arm with her friend and curls falling completely unrestrained down her back Catrin found herself at the door of the public house. “Maybe we should have asked Tommy and Michael to come with us …” Georgia murmured, referring to the school’s history and mathematics teachers, and scoundrels extraordinaire. They often aided and abetted Georgia in her escapades around the town. “I doubt Tommy would have come,” Catrin said wryly, “Not after our conversation this afternoon.” “You shouldn’t have snapped at him like that.” “Well, he shouldn’t have acted like such an idiot then, should he?” “Oh, Kitty, you’re so …” “Tempestuous?” “Not the word I was going to use,” Georgia grinned. Catrin rolled her eyes. “Come on.” She pushed open the door to the Tinker’s Tavern, wondering how she’d ended up the one dragging Georgia inside. It was fairly bright inside, lit by a number of candles and lights, and while there were a decent number of patrons it was by no means crowded. Georgia clung to Catrin’s arm, and, after looking around, declared Joshua was not yet here. “That young man at the bar though, he’s rather good looking …” Catrin, who had uneasily been watching a pair that looked in the middle of a confrontation, turned round to see who her friend was indicating. The young man in question was sat at the bar, and was dark haired and indeed very handsome. He was also being eyed up by several other females in the vicinity. “You’re here for someone else, remember? Come on. Let’s get a table and wait for your Joshua.” Catrin grabbed Georgia’s hand and pulled across to an empty table. Shrugging her coat off she sat down, and tried to look like she entered taverns regularly, rather than once in a blue moon.
Shadows and a faint scent of burning metal permeated the air. It was late evening, the sun was setting, and the dank laboratory was growing dark. Soon, Simon would have to work by lamplight. It was nothing new to him; he'd done his best work in the depths of night. He sat, bent over a heavy stone table, squinting as he used his steam-powered grinder to smooth the edges on a tiny gear he'd pulled from the forge hours ago. His grey labcoat and leather-strapped goggles were covered in soot; he'd been at it for hours. "Excuse me, sir," his assistant said, entering from the front room. "It's closing time. Would you like me to lock up?" "Are there any customers about?" Simon asked, cutting the power to the grinder and removing his goggles. He stripped off his lab coat, revealing his pristine suit beneath, and gently straightened his hair. "No, Mr. Lancaster. It's been a slow day," the young man replied. "In that case, we should be going. No sense hanging around here," Simon said, laying his lab apron over the back of the chair and heading for the door. He gave his young assistant a pat on the shoulder as they entered the shop's front area. "I made some breakthroughs on that new engine I've been working on," he said. "When the racers start pouring in, they'll all want a Lancaster engine in their ships, I promise you!" "I'm just glad you're not boring me with the details, mister," the assistant said as the two men donned their overcoats. "I don't understand a word of it. I just work the front desk, you know." Simon laughed. "One of these days I'm going to get your hands dirty, James. You haven't lived until you've created something you can call your own. A great man is remembered by what he builds, not what he destroys," he added, as he picked up a package he'd left near the door. "I'll keep that in mind, sir," James said, as Simon held the door open for him, turning the key in the lock after the two men were outside. "So, what's the plan this evening, James? I have to swing by the tavern to drop off a little something. You can tag along if you like; I'll buy you a drink." The assistant kindly declined the offer and the two men went their separate ways. A brief walk brought Simon to the front door of the Tinker's Tavern, which was bustling with activity. Fortunately, the place was designed to handle the high-traffic during the airship races, so a regular evening rush was nothing. He approached the counter and hailed the bartender. "Hello, is the owner in?" The man only nodded. He was very busy, so Simon didn't want to hold him up long. "Give him this," he said, placing the package on the bar. "Tell him it's from Mr. Lancaster." "Oh, this must be the new clock," the bartender said, suddenly warming up. "He told me you'd be by." He reached under the counter, going for his credits. "No, no, it's fine," Simon said, gesturing for the man to stop. "I'm always happy to oblige a repeat customer. This one's on me." With a smile, he left the bar and found a seat in the back, near the window. There he could watch the sun set while thinking over his new inventions.
Chaos walked down the sidewalk looking around at the various shops, his long coat and silver hair flowing in the wind behind him. Suddenly he heard a small moan come from an alley he just past. Taking a couple steps back, he peered into it, seeing an older balding guy with a young buxom blonde making out. "Can't people even wait till they get inside before giving him to those urges..." he wondered. However he grinned when he noticed a rather interesting little detail. The man wore a wedding ring, but the woman didn't. Stepping into the alley, he leaned back agains the cold stone wall. "Shouldn't you be doing this with your wife?" The suprised balding man jumped back, and stared wide-eyed at Chaos. "This isn't... I... I..." he sighed and guiltily looked down at the ground. "Okay, how much?" People are so predictable, thought Chaos, though at the very least, this could be entertaining. "How about just handing over all you got." The man narrowed his eyes at Chaos as he reched into his wallet and handed over all his money. "It was a pleasure doing business with you." Stepping back out into the sidewalk, he walked for a few blocks before reaching Tinker's Tavern. Outside stood a woman, who called over upon seeing Chaos. "Excuse ma'am... sir... whichever you are, have you by chance seen that good for nothing husband of mine. He's a little taller than me, balding..." she continued to describe him. "Why, yes I have. He's in an alley a couple blocks back that away, enjoying the company of a young blond woman." "What!" she yelled, her eyes wide with shock and anger, "That... that... BASTARD! He'll pay for this, believe you me." She took off running past Chaos. With a content smile, he walked into the tavern and sat on a bar stool. "One iced tea," he said the bar tender.
Alec sighed impatiently, staring out of the thick glass of the "Valentine's Books" storefront, watching with anticipation as the city workers set to lighting the street lamps. He glanced at his pocket watch, 15 minutes til closing time and there were still customers to be tended to. He made his rounds, gently tapping each of them, about 6 in total, whispering that he would soon be closing. When he'd finished he took his place behind the counter, waiting with what outwardly seemed to be patience. He wanted nothing more than to shed his suit and head out into the city, to bask in it's nightlife, to blend into the colors and light, to take in the conversations of strangers who didn't know he was listening, the beauty of those who didn't know he was watching. He wanted to go adventuring. Tonight the the destination was Tinkers Tavern, a magnificent bar in the center of town that drew the attention of both locals and tourists alike. The place was certain to be packed any given night of the week with drunks, noblemen, pilots , conmen, military personnel, a veritable writer's paradise, with enough inspiration to fill an entire notepad, which Alec would be sure to bring. He finished up at the register, being very pleasant with the slow moving customers that wished to purchase, and afterward, gently began to usher out the browsers that lingered, informing them that he would be open tomorrow and would be delighted if they returned. When all had gone he shut the storefront curtains and turned off all but the stairway lamps, heading upstairs to his generous apartment to bathe and change into his adventuring clothes.
