Tales of Glory and Valour: the Seafarers Main RP Topic

Community Role Playing
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Dolphus watched the map movements from the bottom of his eyes, barely moving his head to track Mariner’s hand as he positioned the boat. Speed will likely pick up at that point, where I am it will be difficult to track exactly how fast we are going, but from what I can tell it won’t be very long until we reach that marker.

The island seemed inconsequential. Dolphus remembered having seen it on a map in years past, but with no significance attached. Granitepeak also stirred some vague memory, but it was too minimal to grasp anything from - mentioned in passing, perhaps. And the Yohurian desert brought up no recollection, but the idea of traveling through a desert at all made his feathers itch.

The mask slid and slid until it practically hit the floor.

Alexis’ position as the default captain was no longer secure. It was dependent now on the consensus of the group, a group that was conflicted, possibly volatile, and would undoubtedly be working against each other in the immediate and distant future. Dolphus himself was already working against them all.

Alexis’ position had to be defended. It had to succeed. She was the least derisive person on the entire vessel, and she was the only one he could ever consider relenting anything to. And yet he could not appear partisan. He would need to steer the thoughts of the group in a way that would lead, without anyone the wiser, to the intended goal. But he lacked the valuable experience necessary to accomplish this.

Best to just wing-

I really do hate myself.

“How would we go about deciding that?” Dolphus asked, looking around the room as the mask crawled back up his face. “Everyone in this room might make a good captain, but who would make the best one?” The bait was laid, and it was time to see which of the rats aboard would plunge at it.

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Makos rolled his eyes. What good would it do him? He didn’t want to be captain, it would simply bring him more pain. And he had too much pain in his life, enough to fulfill two lifetimes aside his own. His expression changed under his mask. Just thinking about it was painful. The trial. Their faces. Exiled. Was his faith misplaced? Was this a sign?

Mako got up and marched straight out of the room. He had heard all he needed to.

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Alexis frowned, the prospect that she had been declared as the pseudo captain had eliminated any…Complications from this journey. Now, whoever won the vote would most definitely have some form of resentment from those that voted against them. Alexis pointed to the position on the map Mariner had indicated, “Why here specifically?” This question was quite simply a stalling tactic; An invitation for someone to lay bare their case on why they should captain. Then, and only then, would she make her case.

This situation is delicate, you must approach it with a surgeon’s precision.

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Tharos sat quietly during Mariner’s speech, trying to make it seem like he’d heard all this before.
The Yohurian desert he thought, if half of what I’ve heard is true, that’ll be the most hazardous part of the trip.

His mind began to drift as Mariner carried on. Unbidden his recurring nightmare began to swim to the front of his mind.

a tall thin figure, with glowing green eyes, and pointed ears examines him. He seemed to be giant from Tharos’ perspective.
“hmm, not unusual when just born for the eyes to not glow. Not to worry old friend, you’ve got a good one here it seems”

The perspective shifted, as he was passed to another figure the same it seemed but for the eyes. These eyes glowed dark blue.

“What age should I stop waiting and start the Sevra?” A second voice asked. Dripping with disdain. As the words were spoken those blue eyes glared at him with open contempt. Something Tharos wouldn’t realize for years.

“oh till he’s about 4 years, I shall check in then.” The first voice paused. “best keep him out of sight till that time… Just in case”

Tharos successfully suppressed a shudder. Realizing there was still people around him. He braced as another scene came to mind.

Tharos sat on a rug by a fire, playing with some toys his mother had got him. One his favourite pirate hero, the other a brutish Winter Legionnaire. As he played he could just make out the voices from the next room.

“Absolutely not! He’s 5 years old and we both yet live!” His mother. He set his toys down clearly something was upsetting her. He was about to go see when he heard it. That voice.

“His eyes don’t glow! How am I to be sure he’s even mine?! Why he could be half human for all I know!” Tharos flinched upon hearing it. He had feared that voice his whole life.

There was a crack like a whip. “How dare you!? You insult me like that? Of course he’s yours, and I will not abandon our child because you can’t accept that.”

“Now, now Hethwn, no need to escalate too highly.” Another voice that made Tharos flinch. It was the Councillor, the creepy figure that came by now and then to examine his eyes. “The simple fact of the matter is, he isn’t one of us. He will be ostracized already by his lack of a glow. Your family has suffered enough shame on his account, it’s a kindness really.”

His mother was adamant. “No, there will be no Sevra”

The scene faded again. Tharos felt a tear welling up. That had been the last time he’d seen her.

Tharos was dragged roughly out of bed, he only needed to see the soft blue glow ahead of him to know who it was. He was lead out of his room, and through his house, still in his sleep clothes.

“Where are we going father?” He asked timidly. There was no reply.

They walked along in silence, down through the cellar. Eventually he was thrown forward. He looked up, and realized he was surrounded by robed figures. In the center was the green eyed councillor. He looked coldly down at Tharos. “In the case of this… Thing. The council’s vote is unanimous. To preserve the strength of our society, it must be removed.”

Tharos couldn’t remember what words they’d chanted then, but as a pool of light began to open at his feet. He cast his gaze around for the familiar blue eyes. “Father! Please, I’m scared.”

Those cold eyes met his, and completely deadpanned he spoke. "You are no son of mine.

The daydream ended as he fell through the pool.

Tharos tried to keep down his anger, as he remembered his father’s face. Unbeknownst to him however his eyes started to ommit a flickering reddish glow. It lasted for but a moment. He brought his focus back to the conversation at hand.

Tharos quickly adopted his usual tone. “Well as I tried previously, I think the decision might be easier, if we knew a bit more about each other. Perhaps our individual motivations? Speaking of, I’m not sure we’ve yet heard good Rooks reason for being here.” He gave a slight smile.

“Never mind it would appear. The bandaged one believes himself a captain already.” He quipped.

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Mako stormed out of the cartography room, straight onto the deck.
He took in a deep sigh, before walking to the side of the ship, and looking out to sea.
Captain. He scoffed inwardly. Why does it matter? He looked onwards as the waves moved. I wonder what sister is doing right now. He chuckled sadly. Probably riding the waves, foolhardy as ever… Mako held back tears. Even now it stung. Nearly as much as the enormous jellyfish that cost him everything.
IT DOESN’T MATTER!" Mako slammed his hand against the railing. This is where you are now, deal with it!
He drew a shudder of a breath.
Why was it me?

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Captain Rook Andreas, the great Count Coal, had been so hearty and boisterous with such an animated personality that his lack of a response had to be chalked up either to hesitance or ineptitude. Why would a man so eager to speak decline the fullest opportunity to do so, and allow him to wear the Captain title he so desired?

Maybe not having all your extremities makes you weary faster? No, I’m sure it’s ineptitude. This was partially due to Dolphus being very eager to snub Rook again and also to keep him from being too annoyed that Mariner had completely ignored Alexis.

Dolphus had to confess some amount of surprise at the decidedly aggressive action of Mako departing, seemingly in response to his own comment of how best to proceed. Was it something with himself, perhaps? Or was this Mako fellow simply that disagreeable?

Regardless, it was time for an argument to be made, even if for no one in particular. “We should be wary of our time. If anyone has a case to make for being captain, make it now; otherwise I recommend we bring it to a vote.”

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Rook made no comment about Jade’s arrival, nor Mako’s departure. He certainly made judgements, however.

The notion that Rook Andreas would not be leading this expedition was frankly concerning.

“I am captain myself, you know. I have survived the most treacherous of circumstances…”

He rises from his chair and stands and eyes each of his partners in a somewhat accusatory way. There is a slight crescendo in his voice.

“I would think that my expirience --and reputation for that matter-- are unrivaled. Am I wrong?” This last sentence is less a question, more a dare.

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Nico’s nose twitched in the wind of Mako’s passing and his eyes followed him out of the room.

He had no desire to captain. He did, however, have some idea of who he would be able to benefit from them being captain. He was calculating, thinking, planning, when-

The words caught Nico off guard, shifting his attention entirely. His impassive face finally split into a pensive and deep frown. The brazen push for … what, building relationships? was so lacking in subtlety that it was repulsive. The question, the goal, was so clearly forced - so what was the motivation?

Not realizing he’d been staring intently at Tharos, his eyes flicked to the sword man - not to be confused with the sword boy, a thought that caused a brief flicker of a grin to flash across Nico’s face (you need to watch your facial expressions in this group, Nico).

He had to admit, he made a striking figure. Grizzled and experienced, both of which were clear purely in his appearance. Dangerous too, but not in the same unsettling way as some others here, but at least in a much more real sense. Nico’s eyes traced the unfortunate limbs. Rook was likely the most competent for the job. And he had made a good argument already.

Now, how to disarm him?

… No pun intended.

His mouth twisted into a rakish grin, so close to being genuine as to be indistinguishable from that quality. He cleared his throat, but remained sitting. A certain … unimpressed light seeped into his expression, slightly appraising - designed to unsettle, to cause self doubt and second guessing.

Maybe he was about to make a dangerous enemy.

“Pardon me, sir.” He used the honorific, to imply seniority - in more ways than one - but not acknowledge captainship, “But perhaps … perhaps there are more qualifications than experience. After all, every ruler had advisors. Do those advisors, then, deserve to rule?” An avenue out for Rook, for later. “I would argue that our leader should have an entirely different quality… the ability to lead.” The implication of incompetence was less subtle than he had first intended. Enemies were being made. “Count Coal was once a great seafarer. My previous captain spoke of him with fear.” A fabrication. “But that was a score of years ago. Where, then, have you been all this time?” Nico grimaced inwardly. He felt true sympathy for what he was to say next, whether it had the effect he intended or not.

He stood, his posture that of a gentleman, his hand resting on his cane. He was no longer smiling.

“And furthermore,” His eyes slid to the table, briefly, and then back to Rook’s eyes, to indicate he was getting to the true point of his words, “there’s the matter of … presentability. If you’ll pardon my saying, as I mean no offense … You don’t appear to be in the best of health.” He paused for effect, his eyes tracing up and down the man, his scraggly beard, grimy hair, his sharp frame. He hoped other eyes in the room would follow. He grimaced pityingly, but did his best to make it seem unintentional - as though intrusive thoughts had seeped outwards. He wiped it from his face quickly, to complete the flourish.

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Mariner, looks towards her, “Well that would be because at that point, is when there will be a need for a captain. From there on we will need someone to decide the route. Rather than following a preselected route, issued by the Armada Maritime traffic control.” He gave the answer quite succinctly. It was a fair question after all.

Mariner then looks towards Dolphus. “You have 3 days, take the time at your own pace.” If they wanted to get it out of the way now, they were more than welcome to, it would give the new captain time to prepare. Alternatively if they took the full time it’d give them more time to reach a more thorough decision.

“Mako” called a soft voice, all at once it appeared to be carried on the sea breeze, and entirely in his head.

Tharos piped up, “I can speak for Rook, he was certainly a fine captain.”

Mariner listened to Nico with mild amusement. What is his end goal I wonder?

“Well, if there is no further questions for me, I must retire.” Mariner stood in one fluid motion. “I have a vigil to stand tomorrow. If you need me I’ll be at the stern.” He stood for a moment to allow any final remarks.

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Hello? Mako thought.
Who? Who is that?
@Winterstorm345

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As Mako responded, a presence descended on the ship, it felt heavy and ancient. The ghost crew all shuddered, some of the older spirits began looking up at the sky nervously.

“I am the guardian of the north seas.” The same voice whispered to him.

A second, louder voice joined, “and I am the guardian of the south seas.” This voice sounded much closer, loud enough to be right beneath him, but still in his head. “We require your assistance, the very life of the sea is at stake”
(@MakutaOisli)

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Dolphus gripped into the arms of the chair until his knuckles were white. His face remained completely unchanged, largely due to his effort, as Mariner’s aloofness was starting to get to him. I don’t even have three Hours, you dunce. This timing is critical.

The flash of a grin drew Dolphus’ attention towards Nico’s actions, and the scene he was about to make. The words were more cutting at the first than at the last, but all to the effect that Dolphus feared Count Coal would find it a fit appointment to jump the length of the table and overpower the young man by sheer force - which seemed to be how he approached most difficulties from an intellectual standpoint.

Regardless, the bait was taken, and the setup could not have been any more superb. He adjusted his collar, un-tensed his hand, and dove for the kill.

“I hardly think the aesthetics of presentation are going to create so drastic a divide between captain and crew,” Dolphus leaned forward, resting his one elbow on the table as he took extra care to ignore Mariner’s comment. “that the lack of limbs would cause dissatisfaction in the performance of an individual in their official capacity.” His eyes traveled and stopped halfway between Nico and his altered arm. “Although my vision on that matter may be a pinch biased.”

“No, the issue of qualification as captain should be determined by what is best for both the voyage and the vessel, as well as the wellbeing of those on board. Your experience and reputation are, without a doubt, unrivaled by the rest of the crew and those present,” Dolphus began addressing Rook Andreas without directly looking at him. “But consider: We are headed to three islands with little detail on who we will be dealing with.” He now spoke to the room, as he stood slowly, and pointed at each location on the map that they were to go with methodical slowness. “We must consider the possible adverse reaction a ship captained under Count Coal might generate.”

Now it was time to speak well out of court. With his limited knowledge of the world outside of the circles he followed, Dolphus could do little but gamble he had struck home, and well, this was his main talking point.

“There is a time and season for everything, however, and it would be remiss of us to pretend the years of experience and competent leadership offered us were of no use simply due to aesthetics.” Dolphus sat back down and ran his fingers along the table. “And a deckhand by the name of Count Coal strikes fear into the heart of no one. But there is a way to accomplish both ends, I think.”

“I vote Alexis for captain.” Dolphus pointed two fingers at Alexis, his foot shaking slightly as he fought to keep the mask strong. “She had already been albeit improperly announced as the acting captain of the vessel, and is a neutral enough party with general experience to fit the position most well. And I also vote Captain Andreas,” His eyes finally rested upon Count Coal’s beady orbs. “as advisory right hand. To guide our captain with his years of experience, to leverage our dealings against the unwelcome folk of these islands, and to take the helm should anything happen to the captain on our voyage.”

Dolphus leaned back in his chair, then sitting back up with a frustrated air - his immediate reaction had been to fold his arms, and his feathered one had begun to move on the idea, forcing him to cut his relaxed moment abruptly short. “Are there any concerns?”

@winger @N01InParticular @Atobe_Brick

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Mariner frowned as the presence descended upon the ship, looking up as they all felt it in their minds. It was as if something very old and powerful had just entered the room. A palpable aura. Mariner muttered “I know this feeling…” Before shaking his head to clear it. He lost the train of thought and caught a tidbit of Dolphus’ speech

“Here again, I might be of some assistance. We will be dealing with the Winter Legion whilst on the mainland. On the island we deal with my colleague… And his priests.” Mariner looked around, “If you have any further questions do not hesitate to ask.”

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How is it at stake? Mako asked.

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“The god of the sea has neglected his duties, the sea hasn’t known a proper storm for far too long. Storms are necessary for they s hift the sea floor, bringing nutrients in that are vital to the health of everything that lives in the sea.” The Guardian of the North explains. “If the Sea God doesn’t resume his duties, the sea could become barren, unable to support life.”

The Southern Guardian decided to weigh in “That would be the… Eventual effect yes, the fact of the matter is, that it would cause a cascade effect that could have devastating effects on sea life. This is where you come in Mako. You are a devout disciple of the Sea, we need you to find the God of the Sea, and wake him to his wrath again.”

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Where would I start looking?

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“This we do not know, all we know is the tides of fate seem to be centering on you. Know this, you are our last hope, we have tried many times to reach him. He has hidden himself from us, and the world.” The sorrow in the South Guardians voice was quite evident.

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I will try to help. Mako responded.

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Rook turns towards him, grins, and bows. A bow was a bit formal for his liking, but clapping Tharos on the back didn’t seem like a good move either.

“And you, a fine Caelin! Many thanks.”

Nico, thus far had done nothing little to upset Rook. At the very least, he appeared to be a competent young man. An intellectual too, perhaps.

Rook awards him the right to speak without getting glared at.

A blatant lie. Count Coal was an infamous prisoner, yes, but he was never known to be a seafarer.

Rook’s eyes narrow.

[OOC might add a short filler paragraph here in the next couple of days, I was having trouble wording it]

“It’s rather disappointing. You’ve decorated yourself with armor and a worthy blade, yet you’re the least prepared for what is to come. At sea, looking NICE is nobody’s concern — and if you think it is… perhaps you would’ve been better off staying behind.”

He pauses for a moment, and then adds a final remark:

“Surely, the bartender at The Drunken Mule would have been delighted to hire a performer for the night.”

Rook grunts and sharply twists his body to face away from the rest of the group.

He had made his case. There was nothing to do now, but to wait. My fate rests in the hands of imbeciles.

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I will stay near to your ship. I can offer assistance when you need. However, knowledge of my existence by the wrong people could put me in danger, so call on me sparingly. The South Guardian withdraws his presence.

Mariner stopped moving towards the door, staring at the conversation’s participants. Ready to step in and break up the fight he was sure was about to start.

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