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Rhysing

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About Rhysing

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    The Line Between Madness and Brilliance
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    Story writing, art, and cosplay

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  1. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    He could ask Aldren to toss her sword away all he liked, it wouldn't matter. She'd dropped it in the ocean about a dozen times since making the deal in an attempt to rid herself of it, but the damned thing always found its way back to her, appearing at her side. At least it was reliable, always good in a tight situation. She turned, leaning back against her desk and crossing her arms. "You really don't know a damn thing about me, do you?" If he had he wouldn't have knocked out her window, giving her a solid connection to the sea. She could practically feel it at her fingertips, churning beneath the ship, sending a sudden spark through her veins. Magic and swordplay, those had been the prime of what Aldren had spent the last six years studying. She'd sailed the world, searching for ancient scripts, spells long forgotten, even venturing inland a time or two to converse with masters of the art. Magic had called to her long before the sea had, a wild and untamable force. It was the one thing she had excelled at in school, and the foremost of what she excelled at now. In a sense, he had handed her access to her most dangerous weapon. She curled her fingers, meeting with a familiar magical tug, as if the ocean were her marionette and she its puppeteer, though never its master. One can not master the tides or reign over the sea like a tyrant, it was the first lesson Rolfe taught her about his magic. Because the sea is a force of nature, wild and alive, offering freedom and escape for those daring enough to brave its storms and ride its crashing waves, but attempt to rule it, to break and tame it, and you'll find yourself a watery grave. So she took all that he offered her, learned to bargain with and befriend the sea, and in return it became her willing weapon. "And i'm willing to bet my left arm you don't know a bloody thing about seafare either," she moved a hand to her hip, the other placed on the desk, "so let me lay it out for you, asshat. As my ship sails, we're at least a week away from land in any given direction, if not more, so you can forget about rowing to freedom, because if the monstrous sea life doesn't pick you off, then the storms will sink you, and if they don't, then your water will run dry, you'll go mad from heat, and die from dehydration. Any way you look at it, supply laden or not, you will die out there, and your body will become shark bait or a feast for starving seagulls." She conveniently left out the part were as soon as he was far enough, she would crush his boat beneath the sea's grip, grenade or no. "So really, if you're hoping to make it out of this alive, your best, and only, chance is with me," she flashed a cruel smile, "isn't irony a bitch." She didn't want to kill him, yet, but she wasn't about to have him walk away thinking he'd won. It didn't matter if he held the trigger for the hour and a half to two hours it would take the merchant ship to sail his demanded distance, because her ship was simply faster. Most merchant vessels typically sailed at around four knots, with a top speed of eight, but the Siren's Song was no ordinary ship. On its own, it could reach about ten, maybe eleven knots by Aldren's estimations, but she could get that number higher with a bit of magical interference. She could catch up to them in about, oh, three hours? So let him think he'd bested her for now, she'd lure him into a sense of victory before tearing that ship apart before his very eyes. Aldren picked up a large rolled up piece of parchment from her desk and held it out too him. "You're welcome to check the charts if you don't believe me, but regardless, I think i'll keep my weapons, make you think before doing anything else stupid." There was a knock on the door and a moment later Casisth entered, the uproar from above decks filtering in with his arrival. "Ready to cross, Captain." Aldren may have been out of her mind, but she wasn't an idiot. The exchange had to be made carefully, and she wasn't about to give the mercenary any extra breathing room. She drew her cutlass, gesturing to the blond, "Then grab this dickweed and escort him to the quarterdeck," She turned her attention back to him, "And I suggest you be compliant, I've got your Prescott up there with a blade to his jugular and about a dozen guns trained on him. As for the other one, Milton was it? Judging by that ruckus his blood could be soaking into the floorboards as we speak." Casisth's own sword was out as he went to stand behind the mercenary, jabbing him in the back as a warning. And with that, Aldren lead the way, swaggering all the while.
  2. So I was reading one of your posts and saw your signature - more a fan of Shakespeare or of Westworld?!

    1. Rhysing

      Rhysing

      Shakespeare! I thoroughly enjoy his works and hope to read them all in time, and though I've never seen Westworld I do plan to watch it one day as well

  3. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    Aldren studied the elven girl before her with clever eyes, keeping her expression a careful neutral. She was small, much smaller than herself, and had to be at least a couple years younger, but Aldren noted some strength in her physique. This was admittedly a strange encounter, and given how sincere she seemed in her enthusiastic behavior, Aldren could guess that the girl had no idea that the real danger was not the slobbering lizards, but rather the woman beside her. Speaking of lizards, they were making an awful racket, screeching and snapping at Scylla and the other stranger, Lorial, who had joined the skirmish; but that was all the better for Aldren. They couldn't be too far from the shore, and by extension, her crew, who would no doubt hear the ruckus and come to investigate. Casisth would drag their asses if he had too. With just that information tucked away, Aldren felt she had the upper hand, though she would test the waters with caution. While the blonde appeared relatively harmless, this Lorial did not. The girl had claimed she once killed a dragon, though Aldren was willing to call bullshit on that. She'd been to DragonSoul Summit, seen the winged beasts herself, and even she could not imagine bringing down one of the towering creatures alone. Regardless, Aldren could sense the magic within them, feel the strings of it tying them to one another, strong enough to put her on guard and have her own magic at the ready. But for now, she watched as this Lorial tore through the lizards with an animalistic ferocity, right at home with Scylla's current state, her red eyes flashing and.... were those fangs? Not human, not elven, but something other. Perhaps she was like Scylla, or perhaps she was something else entirely. A wild card placed upon the table, face hidden, carrying with it the potential to change the game entirely or to fall back into the deck. Gambles were only whatever one made of them after all. Risk and reward. So how would Aldren play this round?
  4. I enjoy your writing. Keep up the excellent work.

    1. supernal

      supernal

      Agreed

    2. Rhysing

      Rhysing

      Thank you! 😄

       

  5. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    Aldren should have been angry. She should have been furious. She smiled, a slow, creeping expression. No malice, no hidden agenda. Just a smile. She remained otherwise unruffled, pouring herself another drink. The mercenary was growing on her. He was ballsy, persistent, and perhaps a bit cocky. But so was she. In another life they might have been friends, or maybe they would be at each other's throats in a bar fight, likely both. This was exactly the sort of half-cocked, harebrained, power-move she should have expected. A maneuver to shift the tides in their favor. Admittedly, she would have done something similar if put in their position. Come to think of it, she had done something similar once, only she had thought it through. The mercenary clearly hadn't, but Aldren could work with that. If he detonated the grenade now, it would kill them all and sink Aldren to the sea floor, but it would likely take out part of their own ship as well, dual suicide. The thing was, they didn't have anything to loose. Aldren had threatened them, she had them at her mercy otherwise, so no, she didn't believe he was bluffing. She could cut his hand off. No, that wouldn't work either. The amount of pressure needed to keep them all from being blood splatters and bone shards wouldn't be present once the limb was severed. Not on it's own anyways. She filed it away as a circumstantial answer. Her thoughts zipped by like gunshots in her mind. Racing in rapid succession, analyzing the problem, searching for a solution. The truth was, she was enjoying this exchange. She couldn't remember the last time easy marks had fought back, not like this. It was refreshing, adding fuel to the fire in her eyes, raising the stakes of a once harmless gamble into a risk-it-all affair; Just the way she liked them. But there was the matter of her crew. Scylla would follow whatever Aldren decided, mirror her movements in accordance to what was necessary, but Casisth was a different story. He was a predictable wild card, a contradiction in itself. He was Aldren's echo, performing a distorted dance out of sync with her own. She could envision his steps because she had laid the groundwork, but the acts themselves were his own, and Aldren could not predict those. So if she attempted one of her outrageous coups, endeavored to tip the scale back in her favor, she didn't know how it would play out. But that was precisely what brought her plans together with such terrifying effectiveness. She left each piece to pivot on its own and act according to their own logic while she orchestrated the affair. Aldren created the outline, tailoring it with dependance upon her knowledge of the individuals involved, and let them fill in the rest. It was insane, Rolfe had always told her as much, but it worked astoundingly. The only complication, at least in this moment, was that Aldren couldn't think of an immediate solution for the explosive issue she had been presented with. It looked as if she were in this for the long haul then, which meant taking the boring route to success. Cat and mouse. "Finally!" She exclaimed, "Some balls! And It's about fucking time. Sniveling and begging gets so exasperating." She shook her head. "Truly, you know the way to my heart." It was half a taunt. Acting had always been her saving grace, concealing her plans, tricking the mind, there when she needed an escape. Without it, she would have been dead long ago. "Too bad, this situation that we find ourselves in. I think we're far more alike then you'd care to admit, mercenary." Her smile faded a bit, a diminished sigh escaping her lips, "But unfortunately, you've just cost me one hell of a payday." Aldren's attention did not falter from him, or more precisely, the grenade which he held. "Scylla, Casisth," she ordered her Seconds, "Please escort our guests back to their vessel. It seems they have overstayed their welcome. This one doesn't leave my sight."
  6. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    If Aldren was being honest, she wasn't here to negotiate. She would take what she wanted, and she didn't mind bleeding for it. But it didn't mean she couldn't put on a good show first. Wordlessly, she poured a second glass and slid it to the mercenary, just to humor him. It didn't match her own, and she remembered fondly how the twin cup had met its end; shattered as she carved out someone's eye with it. That had been a rather long day. She allowed the silence to drag on, taking a lengthy sip from her drink. Silence put people on edge, it made them feel uncomfortable, isolated, and vulnerable. It was as much a weapon to be wielded as her swords or magic, and could be used to gain the upper hand in confrontations such as these. She finished her glass, turning it over in her hand. "Do you know how I got my name, Captain?" The words flowed off her tongue with ease, totally comfortable, completely in her element, "I'm sure you've heard the stories, the tale is never told the same way twice, not that it matters. In the end, they all center around a single thing," She set down the glass, "Blood." Aldren smirked at that, picking up on their fear like a hound on a scent, and placed both hands on the desk, leaning slightly over it. Her eyes were fervent storms, swirling with sadistic delight, alight with vicious pleasure. She would never tire of it, this feeling. It was intoxicating to her, knowing that she held their lives in her hand, hers to take or to spare. She wasn't necessarily proud of it, didn't know where it placed her on the lines of morality, but she'd stopped caring years ago. Perhaps it was a side effect of that infernal creature. Or perhaps it was entirely hers. That didn't bother her like it should have. For now, it was irrelevant, thoughts best saved for nights when she was drunk and alone and wouldn't remember them come morning light. For now, she was here, in this room. A shark in the water. The harbinger of endings. Aldren moved her hair to drape over her shoulder, a casual gesture, but a reminder none the less. "I'm not in the habit of haggling, you see. If I want something, I take it," she continued, shrugging, "If someone gets in my way, I kill them." She straightened her spine, standing at her full height, and her voice suddenly took on a malefic tone. "So not only will I be taking all your cargo, I'll be taking half your crew as well." Serpent, Rolfe had once called her a serpent. Evil, cunning, venomous. Cruel because she could be, cruel because nobody could tell her not to be. "And because I'm a bitch, I'll let you decide who you hand over to me, Captain. You get to decide their fate. Who is worthy enough to live, and who gets to meet death at my blade." Half would be more than enough to pay the demon, keep it quiet and fed for a long while. Blood and souls were a currency now, something Aldren had to pay to keep what Rolfe had suffered to create, what he'd died for and she'd inherited. Like a gruesome taxes, if taxes leeched off her mind every time it got hungry. "But don't worry," She simpered, "Your ship I'll leave intact. Someone has to tell their families how they died." These men had families. Aldren didn't care. The descent to hell was an easy thing for her, because she walked the path for those she loved.
  7. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    Aldren hadn't run this fast in a long time. She could take on any man without much trouble, but beasts were another story. They didn't think like people, they didn't move like people, and they certainly didn't fight or attack like people, which meant Aldren's swordsmanship was only worth so much in this moment. Fortunately, that's why she had Scylla. Scylla, her tracker, her hunter, her shifter, who knew of beasts across the world, who had pursued them with such success because she herself could become them. But Scylla's shifting abilities were limited, and Aldren was certain she couldn't turn into whatever the thing was that was chasing after them. But she could turn into something equally dangerous. They approached a break in the foliage, and Aldren could already feel the change that had overcome her first mate, a sort of predatory nature that always set her entire crew on edge. Aldren grasped a low hanging tree branch, using momentum and strength to swing herself up and away from immediate danger as Scylla leaped into the small clearing, no longer human. The form she had taken was one of her favorites. Before Aldren's eyes towered one of Morgana's feared sand lions, the city from which Scylla hailed. She was massive, all lean muscle and raw power, lion-like body reaching to Aldren's elbow, and her head taller than that. Her slick fur was sand colored with faint striping, perfect for blending into the dunes. And she was absolutely terrifying. The reptilian creature came to a stop before her, and Scylla stared it down with those glowing amber eyes, growled at it with raised hackles, exposing canines twice the size and length of Aldren's fingers. The creature hissed right back, crouching low before launching at her. Scylla sprung to the side, out of the line of attack, before pivoting and lunging into its side. She tackled it, the force of her weight pinning it to the ground and razor sharp claws tearing through it's scaled hide. The creature writhed beneath her, snapping with teeth and kicking out with its legs until a blow finally connected, sending Scylla tumbling away. She quickly found her feet again, looking to continue the onslaught.
  8. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    The old man was either very brave, or very stupid. Aldren was inclined to believe it a mixture of the two. She wanted to laugh, had been attempting to hold it in all the while he'd been plowing through his little speech. Attempting, and at last failing. She threw her head back, the mad howling sound bursting forth from her like a dam, her crew (Casisth and Scylla included) joining with roars of their own, as though Aldren had broken the spell the other captain had cast. The merchant crew, however, seemed quite unsettled by the display. This fool had attempted to give her orders, as if she were some common sailor, as if she hadn't slaughtered dozens just like him, as if doing so weren't a death sentence. She had grown up under the thumbs of powerful men, under governments and educators who sought to rid her of her spirited nature, who had tried to force her into a mold of obedience and formality, their perfect docile soldier. The day she took orders from any man would be the day they cast her lifeless body to the sea. She at last recovered her composure, falling back into her natural state of poised self-assurance, the laughter of her crew slowly dying around her. During the captain's speech she had taken the time to observe the scene before her, now her eyes lazily examined the two he had elected to bring with him, roving over them like prey rather than people. The first was clearly a mercenary. It was evident if not by his well kept physique, then by the way he held himself, tall, proud, and arrogant, a smile playing on his lips and danger glinting in those blue eyes. Blue eyes that were practically drooling over her. Oh, Aldren liked him, but she figured she'd like him just the same if he were dead. Perhaps she'd give Scylla the honors, or maybe she'd dump him on an island somewhere when this was all over. The second looked ready to faint. He was Aldren's height, possibly a tad shorter, and had gone pale as a sheet. He was right to be afraid, of course, but that only distinguished him as an easy target. His newly white complexion was stark against the blood smeared across his face. So the fight had been with the mercenary, given the blood on the other's knuckles. Unwise of the captain to pair them together. Aldren's lips twisted into a smirk, dark eyes narrowing in on him, immediately marking him for death. Oh how the demon would love to torment him, hear his screams, feast on every drop of pain and fear before finally devouring his soul. Maybe then Aldren could get some damn sleep. Her eyes at last rested on the captain. He knew very well who she was. He stood there with his arms crossed, chin jutting upward, as if he were trying to look down his nose at her while staring with such defiance. Trying to both intimidate her and hide his own fear. It was a move Aldren was well aquatinted with, but whether her victims started frightened of her or not, they always parted terrified. That is, if they parted alive. She tapped a ringed finger against her sword hilt, noting the other captain wore a similar one. So a married man then. A year ago it wouldn't have bothered her, it wouldn't have mattered at all, they all bled the same anyways. But feeling Scylla's presence at her side, Scylla, living, breathing, having narrowly escaped death's hand, it unsettled her slightly. She knew she hadn't shown it, she never did, but Scylla seemed to sense it anyways. Her hand brushed against Aldren's in a minor comfort as she went to adjust the rifle strap slung over her shoulder. Fine. Fine, she'd grant his request. A kindness, a second consideration before killing him. To his lover, to his kids if he had any. "Welcome aboard the Siren's Song," She flashed a cruel, bloodthirsty smile, "You likely won't be leaving." Turning on her heel, hair whipping in the wind, she didn't wait for them as she lead the way to her quarters, Scylla and Casisth stopping to flank the entrance. They would enter after their guests. It was a spacious room, or at least it had been when it belonged to Rolfe. It seemed smaller since Aldren had filled it with her things, which were scattered messily throughout. Not that she cared, it was mostly treasure anyways. A small fortune, and a fraction compared to what she had amassed, hidden away in troves and trusted to banks across every continent, under various names of course. But what was present was spelled with protections, so if any of the boarding crew attempted to take, or even touch with ill-intent, (namely the mercenary), then they would find themselves a most painful, burning ending. What wasn't piled high with gold or strewn with discarded clothes was rather immaculate. Rich polished wood gave the room a warm feeling, with red curtains pulled back from the towering windows to let in light, casting the space in a golden glow. Aldren took her place behind the large desk, intricately carved with sea creatures of legend and pirate lore. She didn't bother to sit, didn't particularly care to, only poured herself a glass of rum and waited for negotiations to begin.
  9. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    "They're parlaying," Casisth, her Quartermaster, commented, a telescope held up to one eye. He was tall, nearly six inches taller than Aldren (who was by no means short), with a lithe frame and messy black hair. "It looks like they have mercenaries aboard," he stifled a laugh, "Even the crew is trying to look intimidating." Casisth was like family to Aldren, a soul kin to her own, and though she'd known him longer than Scylla, she had her reasons not to elect him first mate. He may chase after adventure and freedom as Aldren did, but he did not dance with madness, insanity, whatever it was she had come to know, he never taught himself the movements, but Scylla did. Scylla, whom she'd rescued from a slaver's ship three years ago, whom she'd granted freedom, who had chosen to stay. Not because she'd dreamed of the sea, far from it in fact, but because she'd seen what lay in Aldren's eyes. A look of wild abandon, the eyes of an untamable soul, one who would scream with joy into the storm, who would revel in it with delight, if only to feel the crackle of lightning on their skin, the thunder in their bones. Scylla had wanted that, to taste it for herself, or at least that was what she had told Aldren. So while Aldren trusted Casisth with her life, she trusted Scylla with her soul, and with her heart, and with everything that she was. That they were. Together. "A bit of fire in them," Aldren applauded, "all the better to extinguish." She unscrewed the flask she kept, tipping back a portion of its contents to silence the rising headache, the side effects that came with it. Fucking demon. "Ready the crew, prepare to board." Casisth collapsed his telescope, strutting off to do just that. How Aldren would love to tear them apart, if only for the hell of it. Sink their ship to the depths. A song sang in her blood, full of energy and fervor, Ship-Wrecker, it chanted, Ship-Wrecker, her name before the Red. "Do you truly despise me so? I who granted you power?" Purred the voice. It echoed in her mind, heard to no one but herself. Speaking of side effects. "The power I have I took for myself," Aldren hissed. "You have granted me nothing but misery." The ship seemed to shift beneath her. "Misery," it mused, "You know nothing of misery," The shadow from the Mast seemed to stretch across the deck, taking form in sinister claws, reaching to where Scylla stood at the ship's head. "But I can show you~" "Enough." She blinked and it was gone, as though it had never even been there. Because it hadn't. "I've grown hungry, red one, and I do not offer service without cost. Be generous with your blade, or I'll find other ways to feast." Aldren's hand drifted to her sword's hilt. "Touch her, touch any of them, and I will plunge into whatever abyssal pit you slithered out of and rip your fucking throat out you murderous bastard." It only laughed in response, a wicked sound. "Indeed, it is not I who is stained with blood." It went quiet after that. "Captain!" Called Casisth, "The gangplank is ready and we're prepared to board!" They had drawn up beside the merchant ship. Aldren let the previous interaction fall away, relaxing her grip on the hilt and gracing her features with another of her unsettling smirks. There would be other times to deal with that creature. For now she took that anger and shoved it down, tossing it to the roiling sea inside of her, ready to be drawn up and used at a moments notice. She traveled the deck with long proud strides, hips swaying, confidence saturating her every movement, and went to stand before the crossing point, first mate and Quartermaster on either side of her. And as the gangplank was lowered, Aldren the Red stared on like a wildfire, ready to decimate everything in her path.
  10. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    Aldren felt like she was being watched. That was usually a sign they'd been spotted. She smiled to herself, that unsettling little half-smirk she often did, as though she were in on some joke the rest of the world had missed. It was a habit, one picked up from Rolfe long ago, and she thoroughly enjoyed how uncomfortable and off-putting it was to people. They were gaining on their mark fast, the Song cutting through the water like a sharpened blade, and complying with their usual routine, Kerthall, a tall elven man, came to take the helm so Aldren could make her own preparations. She could feel the adrenaline sparking in her veins as she made a quick trip into the captain's quarters to grab her usual effects: a few knives, two pistols, and various other magic infused items, hiding them all on her person before emerging again. The crew had already armed themselves and were ready for the ensuing fight, many were already below decks, awaiting orders at the cannons. Scylla reported as much. "Prepare a warning shot," Aldren instructed once they were in range. Her First Mate nodded and promptly began the climb up to the crows nest. Aldren strode across the deck, the crew watching her with looks of half tempered anticipation as she took her place before them. They were insane, every one of them, herself most of all. Languishing after conflict and reveling in the challenge. A gamble of their lives, though admittedly, this job was a rather low-risk wager. But the feeling remained the same. "Listen up shitbags," She addressed from the quarterdeck, "We have two jobs today, the first is to take that ship and its cargo, the second is to be a pain in the ass while we do it. I have the upmost faith in you." She cast her gaze upwards, "Fire when ready!" Because to Aldren a warning shot didn't mean scaring her opponent with wasted ammo, it meant showing them she wasn't messing around. It mean blood and a forfeited life. And her First Mate was wicked with a rifle. Scylla fired.
  11. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    A scream pierced the stillness. Scylla threw out her hand, signaling Aldren to halt. This didn't strike the Captain as a good sign. "What was that?" She asked in a low voice, looking to the other. Her first mate's brow was furrowed in concentration, or maybe it was worry, perhaps both. Scylla turned her head slightly. Oh it was definitely both. "I'm not sure," she drew her sword, Aldren did the same, "but this region is filled with the untamable, so gods only know. Do you want me to scout from the air?" Aldren shook her head, "No. We'll proceed together." They pushed further into the jungle, occasionally hacking leaves out of their path. It was growing darker by the minute as shadows stretched long in the fading light. This didn't seem to bother Scylla as she continued to track whatever it was they were tracking, and Aldren's eyes gradually adjusted. The crew would likely be wondering about them, but they wouldn't leave until the two returned to shore. The jungle came alive in the twilight. The sounds of life, of bugs and birds, and whatever else was waking up began to rise around them. A melody of existence. Aldren collided with Scylla, forcing her from her thoughts. "What, what is it-" she immediately shut up when she saw what was staring at them through the greenery, what Scylla had frozen in the face of. Aldren gripped her sword tighter. Camouflaged by shadows and vegetation there stood a reptilian creature. It was like smooth stone before them, with piercing amber eyes that looked back into their own. They were filled with hunger. "Run," Scylla whispered to her, "Run." In a split second Aldren had grabbed Scylla's wrist, thrown her hat at the creature, and hauled ass into the woods. She could hear as the beast begin it's pursuit.
  12. Rhysing

    One Last Delivery

    The day was scorching, but the wind was favorable and cool. The deck of the Siren's Song was abundant with life. The crew had brought up an empty crate from the cargo hold to serve as a table and gathered to play Liar's Dice. Bets were being made, by both those playing and spectating, and money or items were rapidly passing between hands at the hailing of cheers or groans. Aldren watched curiously, leaning with her elbows on the railing of the Quarterdeck, tricorn hat casting a slight shadow over her face and twisting at the silver rings on her fingers. It was a game of deception and probability, one she excelled at to the point the crew refused to play against her. There was another round of acclamation, Ilbryn had made his sixth consecutive win, earning pats on the back and a lot of general jostling as his friends crowded him with praise. Aldren turned her head as her first mate, Scylla, appeared at the top of the stairs. Scylla was around Aldren's height with dark hair chopped messily along her jawline. "The ship shouldn't be too far ahead of us now," She moved across the deck like a cat, all smooth movements and careful steps, coming to stand by Aldren. "Remind me again why we're going after it?" "Because," Aldren smiled, turning her attention away from the newest round, "it's a huge shipment, which means we can sell it for a generous sum." Scylla gave her a slightly pointed look. "And It's going to Joran," she admitted. The other girl rolled her eyes in a teasing way, "And what will we do with this 'generous sum' once it's split?" "Well," Aldren began with a tilt of her head, "We can do whatever you want with it, take a break, maybe visit your family in Morgana." "Ah yes, I can only imagine what my mother would think of you." "Then perhaps we can take a vacation inland, visit Hodra like we talked about." "And what would we do with the ship? It's probably too large to take down river." Aldren shrugged, "Leave it at a port on the way." "So it can be taken by raiders?" "You know as well as I that no one can touch this ship," Her hand drifted to the hilt of her cutlass, set with rubies that glinted ominously in response, "Not without paying for it." Scylla's gaze drifted there as well, aware of what Aldren was referring to. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a call from the crow's nest. "Sail ho!" "We'll work out the details later," Scylla conceded, already headed to the stairs. Aldren nodded, turning to face the crew who had paused their game. "Ay! Lower the main sails! Overhaul!" The crew scrambled to their posts, disassembling their makeshift table and setting to work, Scylla already barking orders and making wild hand gestures. Aldren took her place at the helm. "Patience," she whispered to the ship, or rather the creature that had taken to it, "It won't be long now." The sails were dropped and the vessel launched forward in response, eager for the kill.
  13. Rhysing

    Green Wreckage

    The sun was setting, turning Aldren's hair to fire and setting her dark eyes alight. The heat of the day had dissipated and an increasing coolness had settled over the island. Aldren found this place years ago on her journeys with Rolfe and had used it ever since to restock supplies (namely fresh water) on their trips between Genesaris and Terrenus when they didn't stop by Elendaron. As far as they knew, it was uninhabited. The storm the previous night had been a vicious one, but Aldren and her crew had ridden it out with dangerous glee. They sang shanties to the wind and tide while the waves crashed down upon them, lighting crackling its dance, and thunder booming to the chorus, as if their ship were unsinkable and they were death's masters. Aldren was beginning to see why people thought them insane. They were loading the last of their supplies into the long boats, nearly ready to row back out to the ship, when one of the crew came up to her. "Captain," the male began respectfully, "Some debris has washed up on the shore, looks like the remnants of a ship." Aldren raised an eyebrow at that, but simply responded "Show me," and he began to lead the way. She shoved her hands into her pockets as her gray trench coat fluttered behind her like a bird's tail, boots sinking into the sand, and tricorn hat casting a shadow over her face. Pushing past some undergrowth, they emerged onto another part of the shoreline were a few others had already gathered, among them Aldren's first mate, a young female with short dark hair. She was crouched by something. "What is it?" Aldren asked, coming to stand next to her. "Footprints," the first mate answered, "not one of ours, too small, probably female." Aldren recalled that her first mate, Scylla, had been a tracker before turning pirate. The footprints lead to the jungle and looked disoriented in their placement, but a nod from the other woman told Aldren that they were fresh. "Scavenge the wreckage for anything useful," she ordered the crew, then turned to Scylla, "do what you do best." Scylla nodded, and together the two left the shoreline and disappeared into the foliage, following a phantom.
  14. Rhysing

    A Brief Greeting

    @Mickey Flash My main project is High Fantasy with a rather colorful cast of characters because I have limited impulse control. @Wade I'd definitely be up for it! Drop by my inbox and I'm sure we can come up with something.
  15. Rhysing

    A Brief Greeting

    Well hello, I suppose it's time for my own introduction so I guess I'll jump right in. I'm Rhys and I'm an aspiring author. It's been a few years since I last roleplayed and I find myself missing the activity. Creative writing is my passion and I find myself wanting to be immersed someone else's world while I take a brake from building my own. I admit I've never had an experience with a site like this so bear with me while I pick up the mechanics, but I look forward to writing out adventures with everyone!
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