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Die Shize

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Die Shize last won the day on February 26

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About Die Shize

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  • Birthday 07/14/1989

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    Die Shize#6889

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    Valucre
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    Writing, reading, gaming, TV, food

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  1. I'm still lost on this whole 'canon' thing. What's canon? Would Khaedal from Landonia, Renovatio during Ataraxy's Lilith conquest continue-long-description-here count?
  2. shameless bump (as a nostalgic soul, not as a revived owner, I reckon)
  3. IC Ambience [Recurring] Aethan had been walking the deck in the open air inspecting the positions and readiness of his crew and his ship, squeezing rope, pulling against the odd chain and patting a back here and there. Esther had been kind enough to fetch him a steaming cup of coffee before disappearing in a beat back down to the galley, so for moments on end it was all he could do to blow on his beverage and let time take its toll. Each sip was a brutal reminder of the last one that burned both lips and tongue. Pacing along, reports came his way; vocal affirmations of hands on deck and paper manifests of passengers and cargo. The captain was pleased to note that there were no passengers amid the crew. “How goes it, Nick?” Aethan spoke down to a sailor crouched to the deck caulking without any real need as far the ship’s owner could tell. He was a younger lad of seventeen. Or is it eighteen? “Kick, cap.” The boy responded without looking up from his work. “What for?” Aethan blinked in horror. “Nah. My name. It’s Kick.” “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Aethan cleared his throat in an attempt to clear his mistake away. “Uh, carry on, then. Keep up the good work, kid! Kick.” “Aye, aye, cap.” That was that and the tour continued. By the point Aethan stood athwartships, he spotted his boatswain standing at the bow and leaning over the gunwale, his favorite white peaked hat with a black brim donning his head above the blue jacket that always looked too rich for his rustic ways. Approaching closer, Aethan caught speech that the older Randyl was spewing over the railing in the direction of the city. “Well, there’s Lubba-Lump, always a hot spot for lobster, that’s just down the piers. Haggard’s Diner at city entrance looks plain and ordinary’d but its look can fool ya to how gosh darn fine its burgers and catfish are. If you’re in the mood for tea, the Ivy Tea House in the marketplace is my personal favorite; hand to heart the most exquisite tea and cakes and filling sandwiches. The Painted Nail’s just upstreet. The Fog House is where all the bustle is though. Better drink in the other tavern if'n I tell ya so, ma'am.” Slightly confused, Aethan appeared beside Randyl at the railing and looked from his white beard to the woman standing at the walkway beneath the bow. He managed to sip his coffee without burning himself even as a thought burned into his mind from the folk planted beneath him. Oh, great. Searats. This should be good. For now, Aethan decided to just stick to his drink and listen on in silence. “Say, missy, what ship brought ya to port? Guessin’ ya just arrived?” Randyl’s tone was as conversational as he could muster, his furry face failing to hide an amiable smile that itself might hide anything else beneath it.
  4. For my part I'm in no rush, just like to gauge!
  5. @-Lilium- Just checking into see if you can post today Also hi
  6. IC Ambience [Recurring] Aboard the Indigo Blue was a crew of about thirty-five men standing, sitting or hanging at the ready when it came to those idling upon rigging and masts. As soon as his boot left the boarding plank to tap against the wood of his deck Aethan was torn between two thoughts of whether his men and women were a sore sight for eyes or some of the finest sailors to ever grace the seas of the world. It was a small crew for a small ship, the design of the fluyt emphasizing maximum cargo capacity while minimizing crew capacity. On that note, it took little wonder as to why the faces of his crew were suddenly staring their captain’s way, particularly given his tardiness, because whatever repairs and adjustments there were to be made had probably already been made. Little work to be done now beyond setting sail. “So....” Aethan looked left, looked right, looked up. “...What the heck’s everyone waiting for, sugared dumplings?” Some of them chuckled, others shook their heads with smiles and someone threw an apple from the rigging that their captain had barely caught. He turned it about in his hand as though the color might change. “Never did like green… Foster, we got any reds onboard?” A burly man stepped down from the quarterdeck. “We got red wine, red tea and red meat, if that counts.” The first mate had spoken as nonchalantly as a duck caught floating in someone’s bath. Aethan shrugged, his purser not winning any points and the green apple suddenly needing sugar. “Well, guess I’ll take what I can get.” He stepped further into his ship, Pendrin breaking away to handle something or other and other sailors taking to their positions as the ship was made ready for sail, of which one for each of its three masts would be dropped soon enough. “Speaking of tea, are my crates secure?” “Secure, Captain,” Foster replied, a look on his face that had since grown weary from growing weary as to why such a question needed to be asked. “Good, good.” The two men had paced to the stern, gazing out into the open sea. Aethan sliced off a bite of apple and felt his cheeks pull toward one another at the sour taste while Foster lit his pipe. “I should probably have a proper breakfast before we embark. Or after.” Aethan mused, his first mate harrumphing no surprise. “I can have Neddie bring you some salted crab and oysters to your cabin if you’d like.” Smoke escaped Foster’s mouth to quickly dissipate in the seabreeze. “I'm more in the mood for...black bread, goose eggs and...never mind.” Feeling his mind wander, Aethan suddenly made out a ship off in the distance, more a dot on the horizon. “Ever think about just saying goodbye to the crew, tossing all this tea overboard and starting a new life somewhere else, anywhere you want with a ship that can sail anywhere, anytime?” For the answer, Aethan rested his gaze on his first mate to catch a dangerous smile. “Nope.” Foster sighed out a thick cloud and looked at his captain. “I think about selling all this tea, this ship, its crew and then starting a new life somewhere else.” A minor moment passed before both men’s face broke into grins.
  7. No problem, I was going to do something particular outside of Aethan but changed my mind and I'll just stick with him for now so will wait for you instead.
  8. Nothing intense going on yet so I might IC post again and Lil can still hop in
  9. Chat-based areas should work out. Taking Valucre-existing 'areas' and applying them to Discord would be my immediate thought, like a WC chat area.
  10. I think Aethan is more interested in breakfast right now
  11. Ah! I misunderstood. I thought your first IC post was going to be a timeskip lol Since my IC post was still open-ended I have no problem with keeping Aethan anchored for now, either way works for me
  12. No probs, I wanted to end my post with room for such skippage You have the opportunity to target Aethan's ship itself, who I'm of course controlling, in the open sea at some point. Or in the city itself, with tea offloading and such. Could even do it while the ship's at anchor, because another idea is that Aethan's mercantile voyage starts in the morning and ends at night where he's back in town. Just some thoughts.
  13. lol I should clarify in my post the ambience note: " The person you're supposed to meet is always somewhere in the docks district. Gather your party and venture forth! " This is just a description of the track, not meant to indicate what players should do. I started off in Aligoria itself but no outright need to follow suit
  14. NOTICE Aligoria IC Ambience The Tea Merchant It was well into the morning when Aethan Caswell stepped out from the shadows of his little home and into the light and the heat that came with it. He had missed the sunrise, another clue of waking up late and another reason to dwell on the anchor that was weighing his head down. The celebration had been called for, he would remind himself, never quite winning the tug of war as to whether the wine had been worth it. Last night he had savored Arbor Gold and conversations with the wall, having no plans on closing his eyes and ruining the moment even as the hours had engulfed the moon. Right now, it was all he could do to stand in his doorway and shield his gaze as every ray of sunlight blinded him and every sound of the docks blew up in his ears. It wasn't so much a hangover as it was the simple truth that he could climb back into bed and sleep the day away. Allowing himself a moment to breathe in the sweating seaside, Aethan licked dry lips and straightened his collar. He had done his best to lazily lay on and lace up what clothes and boots he could muster, settling for something simple, not that he ever did not. Black, brown and white was the standard, even though it felt like he had worn the same clothes only yesterday. Hang in there, pal. Where you’re going only the ocean can judge you—not these sorry souls who could do with a drink a bit stiffer than tea. Aligoria greeted him in few different ways each morning, with seagulls squawking, hammers pinging, axes chopping and the hustle and bustle of cityfolk twisting all about like streams in a hurry to head nowhere but forward. With a sigh, Aethan glanced at his pocket watch and slipped a stick of jerky into his mouth, hoping that it wasn’t so old that it really mattered if he had found it on an open plate. As he navigated his way past a few neighboring homes, still struggling to smile at Old Man Murphy’s toothless grin, he was at least satisfied that the noisiest parts of town were behind him. His home wasn’t much but it was right near the edge of the docks district, with a clear enough view of the sea and the sound of waves giving their best as they intermingled with the city that sought to best them. Aethan almost stopped in his tracks when he slowed down in front of The Painted Nail, wondering if Barbara was inside the tavern serving black bread, boiled goose eggs and bacon-wrapped trout to anyone else this morning, not to mention coffee and dark ale, though he didn’t know which sounded better. Go on. Just say hello. You’ve got time. He blew through his lips and kept on walking. Reaching the port proper, he paused at a stall to purchase a tall cup of iced horchata and a large sugared dumpling, a drop of sweat narrowly missing his beverage as he went for a bite. The piers were at his side now, with boats and ships anchored with sails rolled up or raising anchor to loose sails. Fishing and merchant vessels, ferries, leisure boats and the odd Subversor patrol craft were passed by without much ogling. It seemed like each new vessel was still the same old one that he had seen half a dozen times and a dozen more. “Jerk! Watch where you’re walking!” The comment had startled Aethan as his shoulder hit something hard. Fortunately, its hand hadn’t been holding the drink and his pastry was still intact. By the time he met the other man’s gaze a frown had turned into a smile. “Oh, Captain, crap!” “Captain Crap?” Aethan wondered, chewing on his dumpling. “Ha. Sorry. Didn’t recognize you. Was actually just on my way to look for you. You’re, uh…” “Late?” Pendrin shrugged in agreement. Aethan shrugged back. “I guess I am. Also guessing everyone else is tethered to and about ready to go without me.” “Yep. Few fellas and I have been prepped since dawn, caught the sunrise with some Ebony, tumbled dice, Frank shared that story about the six-armed monk—” “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it all over again onboard.” Aethan smiled at his able seaman who nodded with restraint. “Well, let’s get to it, then.” With that, the two men walked a little further before halting beside the waters. A frigate was anchored to their right, black of hull and looking something ominous but otherwise inactive, and to their left was a caravel Aethan recognized immediately. “Didn’t know Tranquility was in town. Fancy that. Wonder what Mal’s up to,” Aethan mused. Pendrin elaborated that Captain Keynion and company had a political visit a little earlier, whatever that meant. Yet, it was between the frigate and the caravel that Captain Caswell’s gaze was resting, there where a fluyt sat floating and waiting, its rich blue hull a colorful contrast to its captain’s outfit. “You’ve been sailing with me for what, a year now, Pendrin?” “Something like that, Cap.” “I”ve been sailing with her for five years, did you know that?” “Sure did, Cap.” “Five years…” Aethan shook his head in wonder, taking a long gulp from his horchata. “I ever tell you how she got her name?” “Sure did, Cap.” “It’s the color.” “Yep.” “Indigo blue,” Aethan spoke admiringly. “Indigo Blue,” Pendrin followed up, and after a shared head nod the two climbed aboard the merchant ship and prepared to play the game of sails and sells with all the tea a party could ask for.
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