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Veloci-Rapture

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  1. Thanks
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Phoebe in Looking for: Mercenaries   
    Then count me in!
  2. Like
    Veloci-Rapture reacted to Phoebe in Looking for: Mercenaries   
    (1) seems alright!
    (2) sure! I’ll make sure to bring in another ship for you to steal :3
  3. Like
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Phoebe in Looking for: Mercenaries   
    This is super timely.
    Quick questions:
    1) Is Ana an acceptable character for this thread?
    and
    2) At the end, could s/he maybe steal a pirate ship?
    I was going to just kind of handwave a pirate ship into existence for Ana to start the next thread I was planning, but if we could canonically "borrow" one, that'd be even better.
  4. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Malintzin in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  5. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from elixir in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  6. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from jaistlyn in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  7. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from jaistlyn in What makes a character "important"?   
    [Report Reason: I'm in this post and I don't like it.]
     
     
    One of the reasons I dipped out of narrative combat a long time ago, even though I'd love to stick Ana into PC-fueled battle royale, is because so damn many people are so damn terrified of losing that they end up going back in time. "I swing my sword!" "As soon as your sword comes out of the scabbard, I stab at your guts!" "My strike was a feint! As soon as you pull your knife to stab my guts, my other hands casts a lightning bolt!" "I smell the ozone in the air from your impending lightning bolt and breathe a gout of fire before I finish drawing my knife!" ...until we're at "Before you father can consummate his marriage to your mother and conceive you, my spirit leaves my soon-to-be-born body, still in the womb, and strikes at him with the sword of terminal impotence!"
     
    -----
     
    So anyway, on to why you're all wrong.
    "Importance" isn't about power. It isn't about land. It isn't about artifacts. It isn't about canon accomplishments (although those come the closest; having your name in the Lore pages works well to further the real meaning of importance). It isn't even really about blowing up a city.
    It's about marketing. It's about branding. It's about getting your character out there and doing lots of things and being seen doing lots of things. Let's take @Ataraxy's Lillith. She's important because she's all over the place. People want to join her threads because they see here everywhere, gettin' shit done, kicking ass and taking names, and they want to be a part of that. Lillith is important.
    Sure, she's super powerful, but that's not what it's about. I'm pretty sure my Ana could kick her ass, but I haven't done anything with Ana (yet). Ana's not important because nobody knows who the hell s/he is. S/he's been a side character in a few other people's stories, but hasn't made a name for his/herself, either IC or OOC. And there are thousands of characters in Ana's position on these boards. Some even own little kingdoms. Hell, some own big kingdoms. But without that name recognition, they're only important in their own tiny little spheres.
    I mean, when I first started playing here, @Pasion Pasiva was the person to RP with. If a thread by her showed up in the water cooler, you wanted in on that yesterday. Sure, a big part of it was that she's a great RPer, with epic plots and far-reaching goals. But the Black Queen was important because everyone knew who she was. Her name was out there. Even as a rank 0 noob I could tell that was one of the stars you wanted to hitch your cart to. That character was important.
    Importance in Valucre isn't about anything more complicated than base, vulgar marketing psychology. Your character becomes important because you get out there and make them important, by doing cool stuff, by 24/7/365 hustling. Not just joining threads, but making threads, making multi-thread plotlines, setting a scene, having a goal, and then getting that name out there. The character doesn't even have to be that personally awesome. I don't have any handy examples, but I'm pretty sure that if I had the time and the energy, I could take a farm girl from the boonies of Fracture with only the ability to do a lot of chinups and turn her into someone important. And it would be by just constantly RPing with her, signing her up for adventures and then giving her her own adventures and getting people to sign up for them, and never giving up, never letting dead threads stop me, never losing sight of the character's ultimate goal, and gettin' 'er done!
    Sadly, that's also how we end up with cliques here and there, over time, but that's a whole 'nother topic.
  8. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Csl in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  9. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Wade in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  10. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from supernal in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  11. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Tyler in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'd say that's a fine definition.
    As for examples, I can only comment on my own subjective feelings; I can not and will not claim that my observations are in any way a declaration of The Truth of the Matter.
    Also, I'll be talking exclusively about the time period around when I first joined up, which was years ago now--and with that caveat comes a second caveat, that my memory might have muddled the timelines around.
    When I first showed up, I felt like there were a couple of groups that seemed very exclusive, and that exclusivity seemed based on something other than merit or RP style. I could have been wrong; it was just my personal impression. I'm thinking specifically of the Predator's Keep crowd and the Patia crowd.
    The PK folks seemed like a group of long-time friends with their own impenetrable lingo and a long canonical history that wasn't really explained well in the official lore, but my feeling was that one had to fully understand that history before RPing with them. Since I couldn't follow the current plotlines, and was unable (or unwilling) to track down the relevant history, I just steered clear.
    The Patia people, on the other hand, felt like some kind of very picky, very high-society kind of group that actively looked down on people who... well, I couldn't tell what the criteria was. Some of them seemed very rude in their OOC interactions with other people; in hindsight it may have been because of a history I was ignorant of, but at the time it felt arbitrary and uncalled for.  In any event, there definitely was a set of criteria, but since I couldn't find a pattern, I stayed away from all of them out of a fear I might find myself somewhere unflattering in that rubric.
     
     
    Adding my upvote to this as well. In the past, the leaders of Genesaris were very particular about their canon and very hesitant about allowing things that could affect it in ways that couldn't be readily predicted. This seemed to lead to a situation where only a small circle of folks were trusted to create or participate in important threads. I remember it got so bad at one point that when the board leader posted an interest check for an amazingly cool Genesaris event (maybe for a Halloween?) in the Water Cooler, it got almost no responses. Not because it wasn't an awesome idea, but because if other people were thinking the same way as I was, nobody felt comfortable sticking their necks out.  My first thought was "This looks awesome, but I don't want to get yelled at if I do something 'wrong' and 'mess up' this thread."
    Anyway, this was all from the perspective of a Val n00b from years ago. I don't see the same things nowadays. It could be because things have changed, or it could be because it never existed in the first place, or it could be because I've gained a sense of confidence and familiarity with the community here and/or have run out of fucks to give. Or it could be that I've unknowingly fallen in with my own clique and no longer see what's going on outside of that circle.
     
     
    This is also something I agree with. There are some people who are wonderful, lovely, nice people, but they are also people with whom I will never RP again because there's something about their style I can't stand. It could be their plot style, narrative style, thread pacing, interaction style, or just that their characters annoy me. They may play fast and loose with canon, or do things that feel too god-mode to me, or whatever. Maybe this person brings AK-47's and FFVI-style mech suits into a thread I thought was going to be all swords and sorcery. Or maybe they don't see the point in separating IC knowledge from OOC knowledge and therefore my deceptive sneaky characters can never lie to them or fool them. And other people may have no problems with that, and instead hate the way I RP.
    It's a bit like deciding on what kind of pet you want to share your house with. Some people want to cuddle with a furry critter and don't care that it walks on their counters, just as long as it doesn't poop behind the couch. Some people don't mind occasionally cleaning up a tiny poop from behind the couch, but will not put up with dirty paws on their kitchen counters. Someone else might hate BOTH counter-walking and floor-poop-cleaning, but don't care at all if their friend is fuzzy and cuddleable (these are the snake people). And none of these people are "wrong".
  12. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture reacted to elixir in To Clique or Not To Clique.   
    I'll probably expand on this more when I get home tonight (if need be).
    You're right, the issue isn't the first half of the definition. Just look at the cute clubs!
    However, I'll admit when I first joined Valucre and got my bearings, I felt like people associated with Genesaris gave off some clique vibes. I still feel that way, honestly, even if it's not to a great extent like before. I can understand that years of lore and world-building can create that vibe because these are people you have been working with longer than I've been a part of the site, but it still doesn't change the fact that I didn't feel like I was "welcomed" to flourish what was being created.
    Yeah, it's not the same "Mean Girls" trope but it's still enough to make me scratch my head.
  13. Like
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from supernal in What makes a character "important"?   
    [Report Reason: I'm in this post and I don't like it.]
     
     
    One of the reasons I dipped out of narrative combat a long time ago, even though I'd love to stick Ana into PC-fueled battle royale, is because so damn many people are so damn terrified of losing that they end up going back in time. "I swing my sword!" "As soon as your sword comes out of the scabbard, I stab at your guts!" "My strike was a feint! As soon as you pull your knife to stab my guts, my other hands casts a lightning bolt!" "I smell the ozone in the air from your impending lightning bolt and breathe a gout of fire before I finish drawing my knife!" ...until we're at "Before you father can consummate his marriage to your mother and conceive you, my spirit leaves my soon-to-be-born body, still in the womb, and strikes at him with the sword of terminal impotence!"
     
    -----
     
    So anyway, on to why you're all wrong.
    "Importance" isn't about power. It isn't about land. It isn't about artifacts. It isn't about canon accomplishments (although those come the closest; having your name in the Lore pages works well to further the real meaning of importance). It isn't even really about blowing up a city.
    It's about marketing. It's about branding. It's about getting your character out there and doing lots of things and being seen doing lots of things. Let's take @Ataraxy's Lillith. She's important because she's all over the place. People want to join her threads because they see here everywhere, gettin' shit done, kicking ass and taking names, and they want to be a part of that. Lillith is important.
    Sure, she's super powerful, but that's not what it's about. I'm pretty sure my Ana could kick her ass, but I haven't done anything with Ana (yet). Ana's not important because nobody knows who the hell s/he is. S/he's been a side character in a few other people's stories, but hasn't made a name for his/herself, either IC or OOC. And there are thousands of characters in Ana's position on these boards. Some even own little kingdoms. Hell, some own big kingdoms. But without that name recognition, they're only important in their own tiny little spheres.
    I mean, when I first started playing here, @Pasion Pasiva was the person to RP with. If a thread by her showed up in the water cooler, you wanted in on that yesterday. Sure, a big part of it was that she's a great RPer, with epic plots and far-reaching goals. But the Black Queen was important because everyone knew who she was. Her name was out there. Even as a rank 0 noob I could tell that was one of the stars you wanted to hitch your cart to. That character was important.
    Importance in Valucre isn't about anything more complicated than base, vulgar marketing psychology. Your character becomes important because you get out there and make them important, by doing cool stuff, by 24/7/365 hustling. Not just joining threads, but making threads, making multi-thread plotlines, setting a scene, having a goal, and then getting that name out there. The character doesn't even have to be that personally awesome. I don't have any handy examples, but I'm pretty sure that if I had the time and the energy, I could take a farm girl from the boonies of Fracture with only the ability to do a lot of chinups and turn her into someone important. And it would be by just constantly RPing with her, signing her up for adventures and then giving her her own adventures and getting people to sign up for them, and never giving up, never letting dead threads stop me, never losing sight of the character's ultimate goal, and gettin' 'er done!
    Sadly, that's also how we end up with cliques here and there, over time, but that's a whole 'nother topic.
  14. Thanks
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Ataraxy in What makes a character "important"?   
    [Report Reason: I'm in this post and I don't like it.]
     
     
    One of the reasons I dipped out of narrative combat a long time ago, even though I'd love to stick Ana into PC-fueled battle royale, is because so damn many people are so damn terrified of losing that they end up going back in time. "I swing my sword!" "As soon as your sword comes out of the scabbard, I stab at your guts!" "My strike was a feint! As soon as you pull your knife to stab my guts, my other hands casts a lightning bolt!" "I smell the ozone in the air from your impending lightning bolt and breathe a gout of fire before I finish drawing my knife!" ...until we're at "Before you father can consummate his marriage to your mother and conceive you, my spirit leaves my soon-to-be-born body, still in the womb, and strikes at him with the sword of terminal impotence!"
     
    -----
     
    So anyway, on to why you're all wrong.
    "Importance" isn't about power. It isn't about land. It isn't about artifacts. It isn't about canon accomplishments (although those come the closest; having your name in the Lore pages works well to further the real meaning of importance). It isn't even really about blowing up a city.
    It's about marketing. It's about branding. It's about getting your character out there and doing lots of things and being seen doing lots of things. Let's take @Ataraxy's Lillith. She's important because she's all over the place. People want to join her threads because they see here everywhere, gettin' shit done, kicking ass and taking names, and they want to be a part of that. Lillith is important.
    Sure, she's super powerful, but that's not what it's about. I'm pretty sure my Ana could kick her ass, but I haven't done anything with Ana (yet). Ana's not important because nobody knows who the hell s/he is. S/he's been a side character in a few other people's stories, but hasn't made a name for his/herself, either IC or OOC. And there are thousands of characters in Ana's position on these boards. Some even own little kingdoms. Hell, some own big kingdoms. But without that name recognition, they're only important in their own tiny little spheres.
    I mean, when I first started playing here, @Pasion Pasiva was the person to RP with. If a thread by her showed up in the water cooler, you wanted in on that yesterday. Sure, a big part of it was that she's a great RPer, with epic plots and far-reaching goals. But the Black Queen was important because everyone knew who she was. Her name was out there. Even as a rank 0 noob I could tell that was one of the stars you wanted to hitch your cart to. That character was important.
    Importance in Valucre isn't about anything more complicated than base, vulgar marketing psychology. Your character becomes important because you get out there and make them important, by doing cool stuff, by 24/7/365 hustling. Not just joining threads, but making threads, making multi-thread plotlines, setting a scene, having a goal, and then getting that name out there. The character doesn't even have to be that personally awesome. I don't have any handy examples, but I'm pretty sure that if I had the time and the energy, I could take a farm girl from the boonies of Fracture with only the ability to do a lot of chinups and turn her into someone important. And it would be by just constantly RPing with her, signing her up for adventures and then giving her her own adventures and getting people to sign up for them, and never giving up, never letting dead threads stop me, never losing sight of the character's ultimate goal, and gettin' 'er done!
    Sadly, that's also how we end up with cliques here and there, over time, but that's a whole 'nother topic.
  15. Think
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from desolate milkshake in What makes a character "important"?   
    [Report Reason: I'm in this post and I don't like it.]
     
     
    One of the reasons I dipped out of narrative combat a long time ago, even though I'd love to stick Ana into PC-fueled battle royale, is because so damn many people are so damn terrified of losing that they end up going back in time. "I swing my sword!" "As soon as your sword comes out of the scabbard, I stab at your guts!" "My strike was a feint! As soon as you pull your knife to stab my guts, my other hands casts a lightning bolt!" "I smell the ozone in the air from your impending lightning bolt and breathe a gout of fire before I finish drawing my knife!" ...until we're at "Before you father can consummate his marriage to your mother and conceive you, my spirit leaves my soon-to-be-born body, still in the womb, and strikes at him with the sword of terminal impotence!"
     
    -----
     
    So anyway, on to why you're all wrong.
    "Importance" isn't about power. It isn't about land. It isn't about artifacts. It isn't about canon accomplishments (although those come the closest; having your name in the Lore pages works well to further the real meaning of importance). It isn't even really about blowing up a city.
    It's about marketing. It's about branding. It's about getting your character out there and doing lots of things and being seen doing lots of things. Let's take @Ataraxy's Lillith. She's important because she's all over the place. People want to join her threads because they see here everywhere, gettin' shit done, kicking ass and taking names, and they want to be a part of that. Lillith is important.
    Sure, she's super powerful, but that's not what it's about. I'm pretty sure my Ana could kick her ass, but I haven't done anything with Ana (yet). Ana's not important because nobody knows who the hell s/he is. S/he's been a side character in a few other people's stories, but hasn't made a name for his/herself, either IC or OOC. And there are thousands of characters in Ana's position on these boards. Some even own little kingdoms. Hell, some own big kingdoms. But without that name recognition, they're only important in their own tiny little spheres.
    I mean, when I first started playing here, @Pasion Pasiva was the person to RP with. If a thread by her showed up in the water cooler, you wanted in on that yesterday. Sure, a big part of it was that she's a great RPer, with epic plots and far-reaching goals. But the Black Queen was important because everyone knew who she was. Her name was out there. Even as a rank 0 noob I could tell that was one of the stars you wanted to hitch your cart to. That character was important.
    Importance in Valucre isn't about anything more complicated than base, vulgar marketing psychology. Your character becomes important because you get out there and make them important, by doing cool stuff, by 24/7/365 hustling. Not just joining threads, but making threads, making multi-thread plotlines, setting a scene, having a goal, and then getting that name out there. The character doesn't even have to be that personally awesome. I don't have any handy examples, but I'm pretty sure that if I had the time and the energy, I could take a farm girl from the boonies of Fracture with only the ability to do a lot of chinups and turn her into someone important. And it would be by just constantly RPing with her, signing her up for adventures and then giving her her own adventures and getting people to sign up for them, and never giving up, never letting dead threads stop me, never losing sight of the character's ultimate goal, and gettin' 'er done!
    Sadly, that's also how we end up with cliques here and there, over time, but that's a whole 'nother topic.
  16. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Zashiii in What makes a character "important"?   
    [Report Reason: I'm in this post and I don't like it.]
     
     
    One of the reasons I dipped out of narrative combat a long time ago, even though I'd love to stick Ana into PC-fueled battle royale, is because so damn many people are so damn terrified of losing that they end up going back in time. "I swing my sword!" "As soon as your sword comes out of the scabbard, I stab at your guts!" "My strike was a feint! As soon as you pull your knife to stab my guts, my other hands casts a lightning bolt!" "I smell the ozone in the air from your impending lightning bolt and breathe a gout of fire before I finish drawing my knife!" ...until we're at "Before you father can consummate his marriage to your mother and conceive you, my spirit leaves my soon-to-be-born body, still in the womb, and strikes at him with the sword of terminal impotence!"
     
    -----
     
    So anyway, on to why you're all wrong.
    "Importance" isn't about power. It isn't about land. It isn't about artifacts. It isn't about canon accomplishments (although those come the closest; having your name in the Lore pages works well to further the real meaning of importance). It isn't even really about blowing up a city.
    It's about marketing. It's about branding. It's about getting your character out there and doing lots of things and being seen doing lots of things. Let's take @Ataraxy's Lillith. She's important because she's all over the place. People want to join her threads because they see here everywhere, gettin' shit done, kicking ass and taking names, and they want to be a part of that. Lillith is important.
    Sure, she's super powerful, but that's not what it's about. I'm pretty sure my Ana could kick her ass, but I haven't done anything with Ana (yet). Ana's not important because nobody knows who the hell s/he is. S/he's been a side character in a few other people's stories, but hasn't made a name for his/herself, either IC or OOC. And there are thousands of characters in Ana's position on these boards. Some even own little kingdoms. Hell, some own big kingdoms. But without that name recognition, they're only important in their own tiny little spheres.
    I mean, when I first started playing here, @Pasion Pasiva was the person to RP with. If a thread by her showed up in the water cooler, you wanted in on that yesterday. Sure, a big part of it was that she's a great RPer, with epic plots and far-reaching goals. But the Black Queen was important because everyone knew who she was. Her name was out there. Even as a rank 0 noob I could tell that was one of the stars you wanted to hitch your cart to. That character was important.
    Importance in Valucre isn't about anything more complicated than base, vulgar marketing psychology. Your character becomes important because you get out there and make them important, by doing cool stuff, by 24/7/365 hustling. Not just joining threads, but making threads, making multi-thread plotlines, setting a scene, having a goal, and then getting that name out there. The character doesn't even have to be that personally awesome. I don't have any handy examples, but I'm pretty sure that if I had the time and the energy, I could take a farm girl from the boonies of Fracture with only the ability to do a lot of chinups and turn her into someone important. And it would be by just constantly RPing with her, signing her up for adventures and then giving her her own adventures and getting people to sign up for them, and never giving up, never letting dead threads stop me, never losing sight of the character's ultimate goal, and gettin' 'er done!
    Sadly, that's also how we end up with cliques here and there, over time, but that's a whole 'nother topic.
  17. Think
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Csl in What makes a character "important"?   
    [Report Reason: I'm in this post and I don't like it.]
     
     
    One of the reasons I dipped out of narrative combat a long time ago, even though I'd love to stick Ana into PC-fueled battle royale, is because so damn many people are so damn terrified of losing that they end up going back in time. "I swing my sword!" "As soon as your sword comes out of the scabbard, I stab at your guts!" "My strike was a feint! As soon as you pull your knife to stab my guts, my other hands casts a lightning bolt!" "I smell the ozone in the air from your impending lightning bolt and breathe a gout of fire before I finish drawing my knife!" ...until we're at "Before you father can consummate his marriage to your mother and conceive you, my spirit leaves my soon-to-be-born body, still in the womb, and strikes at him with the sword of terminal impotence!"
     
    -----
     
    So anyway, on to why you're all wrong.
    "Importance" isn't about power. It isn't about land. It isn't about artifacts. It isn't about canon accomplishments (although those come the closest; having your name in the Lore pages works well to further the real meaning of importance). It isn't even really about blowing up a city.
    It's about marketing. It's about branding. It's about getting your character out there and doing lots of things and being seen doing lots of things. Let's take @Ataraxy's Lillith. She's important because she's all over the place. People want to join her threads because they see here everywhere, gettin' shit done, kicking ass and taking names, and they want to be a part of that. Lillith is important.
    Sure, she's super powerful, but that's not what it's about. I'm pretty sure my Ana could kick her ass, but I haven't done anything with Ana (yet). Ana's not important because nobody knows who the hell s/he is. S/he's been a side character in a few other people's stories, but hasn't made a name for his/herself, either IC or OOC. And there are thousands of characters in Ana's position on these boards. Some even own little kingdoms. Hell, some own big kingdoms. But without that name recognition, they're only important in their own tiny little spheres.
    I mean, when I first started playing here, @Pasion Pasiva was the person to RP with. If a thread by her showed up in the water cooler, you wanted in on that yesterday. Sure, a big part of it was that she's a great RPer, with epic plots and far-reaching goals. But the Black Queen was important because everyone knew who she was. Her name was out there. Even as a rank 0 noob I could tell that was one of the stars you wanted to hitch your cart to. That character was important.
    Importance in Valucre isn't about anything more complicated than base, vulgar marketing psychology. Your character becomes important because you get out there and make them important, by doing cool stuff, by 24/7/365 hustling. Not just joining threads, but making threads, making multi-thread plotlines, setting a scene, having a goal, and then getting that name out there. The character doesn't even have to be that personally awesome. I don't have any handy examples, but I'm pretty sure that if I had the time and the energy, I could take a farm girl from the boonies of Fracture with only the ability to do a lot of chinups and turn her into someone important. And it would be by just constantly RPing with her, signing her up for adventures and then giving her her own adventures and getting people to sign up for them, and never giving up, never letting dead threads stop me, never losing sight of the character's ultimate goal, and gettin' 'er done!
    Sadly, that's also how we end up with cliques here and there, over time, but that's a whole 'nother topic.
  18. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from J. A. Horton in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  19. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from AngryCacti in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  20. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Ataraxy in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  21. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from danzilla3 in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  22. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from Zashiii in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  23. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from The North Wind in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  24. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from TheShadow in Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.   
    Vetiver sat calmly in the command chair of her own airship, The Rabbit, her milky blue eyes watching the approach of the undead dragons impassively even as her crew began exchanging nervous looks. Vetiver's airship wasn't nearly as grand as Lilith's; it had the appearance of being cobbled together from bits and pieces of other, less-fortunate airships, and the fact that it flew at all, much less against the Nehalen winds, was viewed by most of the crew as miraculous. The idea that this poor excuse for aerial transportation could survive a concerted dragon attack was beyond the pale, and many desperate glances were thrown towards the emergency escape chutes.
    Vetiver's eyes swept the bridge as well, but the escape chutes were utterly irrelevant to her. Instead her eyes landed on her helmsman. "Emming, go below and fetch the LRI repairkit; we're going to need it for the front windscreen. Jacobson, take the helm."
    Emming jumped up and hustled off the bridge, glad for an excuse not to be in a front-row seat for his own execution. Jacobson, a weasel-like young man barely out of his teens, nervously took control of the ship's steering apparatus and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for orders.
    "Adjust heading six-seven-point-six south-southwest, Jacobson," Vetiver said calmly. "And keep your left hand covering the emergency evasive dive button."
    Jacobson brushed a lock of greasy black hair out of his face and followed his orders, his hands trembling. "When will we be diving, Captain?" he asked.
    "When the dragon gives you no choice, and not a second before," Vetiver replied evenly. "I'm going topside; I will be back in fourty-seven seconds."
    The command crew exchanged looks again. The captain was going topside? In this weather? With DRAGONS? Vetiver ignored their skepticism; she stood smoothly from her seat and made her way languidly off the bridge. She pulled the lever that lowered the maintenance stair and exposed a hatch on the ceiling; she stared at the hatch for a pair of seconds before climbing the stairs and popping it open.
    The tail edge of a gust of wind ruffled her long black hair as she climbed out of the hatch and stood on the dull creaking metal of the outside hull of her airship; somehow, she had managed to pick the only moment of the whole trip when the brutal gale wasn't buffeting the The Rabbit. She pulled a rabbit's foot on a long gold chain out of her pocket and swung it in a long, slow circle, almost idly, as if she were waiting for something.
    If anyone had been watching her, they'd have seen her extend her free hand into the empty air and grasp something, as if she were plucking an errant thread from a giant tapestry; she pantomimed the act of wrapping that invisible thread around something else -- also invisible -- before tying it into a bow and launching her rabbit's foot high into the air.
    The tiny good-luck charm shot as if thrown in some Olympic competition directly upwards, just as a monstrous decaying black dragon swooped from the clouds in a challenging dive. The rabbit's foot lodged solidly into a tiny hole in the dragon's throat where a flap of flesh had long ago rotted away.
    Vetiver turned around and re-entered the airship, closing the hatch behind her just as the winds picked up again. She walked calmly back to the bridge, looked around for a second, then moved to stand in a spot just in front and slightly off to the side of Jacobson. She grabbed one of the crash handles on Jacobson's console with her right hand, and held up her left as if she were frozen in the act of waving to someone.
    The black dragon that had mock-charged them from above circled around; a collective gasp escaped the mouths of the bridge crew as it came into view outside the windscreen, barrelling towards them like fetid missile. "It's on a collision course!" Jacobson said, trying to sound professional while his voice cracked.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver said without emotion, not moving so much as a single muscle other than those necessary to speak.
    The dragon opened its mouth wide. A ball of dark purple light formed in the back of its throat, crackling like a fire of death.
    "Maintain your heading," Vetiver repeated.
    The ball of energy grew and began to move forward.
    "Brace for impact!" someone screamed.
    The ball of death moved further forward in the dragon's throat, and hit the rabbit's foot lodged there. The dragon's eyes bulged, and it made a terrified little hiccuping sound as the ball of death washed over the trinket of chaos. The deathball bounced, driving itself backwards deep into the dragon's innards.
    Several things happened at once.
    The dragon exploded; scales and teeth and decaying bones spewed across the sky. There was a sharp cracking sound as something pierced The Rabbit's front windscreen; a tiny line of blood appeared on Vetiver's left cheek, then her left hand closed on whatever had followed that penetrating projectile.
    There was a scream from Jacobson, and the ship dropped into an emergency dive.
    The object that had put a hole in the windscreen was one of the dragon's claws, which had pinned Jacobson's hand to the evasive dive button. He struggled to removed it with his free hand as the ship's nose dipped dangerously; the rest of the bridge crew stumbled and grabbed desperately for the crash handles while Vetiver simply opened her left hand and let her trusty rabbit's foot fall back into her pocket.
    In the air above the diving airship, two dragons that had been closing in on The Rabbit from the flanks found themselves staring directly into each others' breath weapons. Two more explosions rang out overhead.
    The flap on Jacobson's breast pocket came loose of its button, and a tiny silver object began to work its way out.
    Vetiver pulled a cigarette case from her other pocket; she opened it deftly, pulled a single long cigarette from its confines, put the filter end between her lips, closed the case, and returned it to its spot in less time that it took to tell it. She held her now-empty left hand out as if she were ready to receive a gift.
    The box in Jacobson's pocket freed itself from its textile confines just as the young helmsman finally managed to pull the dragon's claw free of his hand; the ship's dive abruptly halted as soon as the emergency button was no longer being depressed. Blood poured over the console as Jacobson tried to wrap his hand with his shirttail; his muffled whimpers of pain and terror were the only sounds on the bridge.
    The silver box that had escaped from Jacobson's pocket landed -- with the leveling of the airship -- directly in Vetiver's waiting palm. She flipped open the top and set her thumb to the wheel, igniting the lighter and using it to light her cigarette. She took a long, deep inhale, then turned to look directly at Jacobson. Her eyes were almost normal now; a piercing, deep blue rather than a milky blueish-white.
    "Don't ever steal my lighter from the smoking deck again."
    The tiny woman walked calmly back to her command chair and settled in, inhaling again from the cigarette just as Emmig returned, pale and breathless, with the repair kit for the windscreen.
  25. Superlike!
    Veloci-Rapture got a reaction from The Fire Heart in Public AFV Thread   
    Hey everyone, long time no see.
    Sorry I vanished; I didn't intend to go AFV, it just kind of turned out that way. 
    If anyone was worried, I apologize! 
    I just have to take a couple steps back for a while. Real life is rolling on over me.
    enrolling in college, trying to find a new apartment, trying to find a new part-time job that I can work while I'm in college  I've gained a girlfriend I've broken up with a girlfriend (of course the same one! What do you take me for? You jerks!), successfully wrote 50k words on a novel for NaNoWriMo (and it's still only half finished, so I'm doing it again in December too), went halfway across the country for Thanksgiving to see the grandparents I haven't had a chance to visit in literally 20 years and more that I'm just not remembering at 5am. So yeah, it's been hectic, and a lot of things have fallen by the wayside as I've tried to keep up. 
    I fully intend to be back; this place has been my internet home for years and years at this point, I couldn't abandon it even if I wanted to. I just don't know exactly when everything's going to settle down for me and give me the space I need to get back into RP.
    Wishing everyone the best, and I'll see you again soon!
     
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