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Starcrossed Lovers; K1ng, Yama, and Alex sign up for a life of shitty narration
Topic Started: Jul 25 2017, 01:10 AM (150 Views)
Shintai Hakai
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The Worst Generation
[ *  * ]
It's not often that people are born that go against the grain of society, that actively continue to rebel well into their later years against the status quo, but those who do may find themselves in great company. The people of Iron Knife island can share an appreciation for each other, there are those who cook, and those who eat. Men will meet women who love to eat, women will meet men who love to eat, and so the world maintains its simple day-in day-out nature. But sometimes there are those who don't follow this standard path, those who feel something just a little bit more pure than a biological necessity to shove food down their throats.

"Are we those people... Crew?" a slender woman with lavender hair said, draping down to her hips, wearing smooth silk clothing that went over her body, not clinging to it -- but emphasizing each and every curve. Her eyes glistened a dark red, and her lips looked as if they were painted with the petals of a rose. She wore a small 'cobweb' piece of jewellery in her hair, filled with gems -- a gift she had received from the large man sitting on a nice, cushioned sofa next to her. her face was slightly apathetic at most times, but in the presence of this man the ends of her lips rose, just the slightest bit -- not enough for anyone to notice but him. She wore soft slippers with little bunny ears on the ends, colored a pure white.

The man, on the other hand -- did not have such a pleasant nature to him. He was a large man with scars along his body, missing parts of his fingers, and he sprouted hair on the back of his palm. Along his face a large beard was present, and he had dark brown piercing eyes. His expression was often one men attributed to a grumpy soul -- but in the presence of this woman, it changed just slightly to one of happiness; Of course, the change was only noticeable to that very woman. "Well Spinette I reckon we are..." Crew spoke, gently rubbing into her hair with his large hands.

Tap...Tap...Tap the sound of a knock on wood came from the front of the room, and Crew slowly rose up, moving toward a door with many wooden latches. He opened the door, and there in front of him was a young girl -- about the age of fourteen. She spoke up to the man "Hello...I need some help, if you wouldn't mind sheltering me for the night..." she looked to the side, shy to be asking someone for help, but Crew turned to face his wife, and got an approving nod. "Why we certainly can help you... Why don't you come on in...?" he spoke, and as the girl walked in he closed the door behind her. "Spinette... do ya want a meat pie?" rang from the house "Oh you know I'd love one Crew. Just be quick about it -- wouldn't want to make a mess." she spoke, her voice as silk as the clothes she is wearing "Certainly M'dear, just one second." he spoke, letting out a chuckle.

Two days later
A maturing boy stood outside a pub, walking up to a group of tough and sturdy Marines "Ya gotta help me sir!" he spoke, jumping up to meet the eyes of one "My sister! she's just up and disappeared! Ma's said she'd kill me if I didn't bring 'er home! I was the one taking care of her when I lost track of her!" he yelled, begging on the ground "You already know we're making an investigation Dalton, calm 'yer nerves and let us get to work" they spoke, shoving the boy to the side. He wore the common pants of a farmboy, and had overalls to match, he wore brown boots and donned ruffled hair with a brown cap. he looked up from the ground at the marines with focused eyes -- filled with rage at their lack of help and yelled loudly "Fine then!" he finished. "If you guys wont help me, I'll find someone better! Someone stronger! Someone who actually cares about us little folk to bring 'er back! just you watch!" the boy was now out of breath, and the eyes of those around him grew more and more judgemental. The boy got up from the ground hastily, and patted down his clothing before dashing off in the opposite direction.

Edited by Shintai Hakai, Jul 25 2017, 02:20 AM.
dont stretch the page
A piece of benevolence, a shard of good will is sometimes all that is needed to raise a truly loyal army.
Shintai the Mouse Boy

We judge everyone by the sum of their actions -- not the cards they're dealt.
Kaiji Suki

No man can stand before me and not quake with fear.
The God Lobster

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InvadingAlex
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OPRP Peasant
[ *  *  * ]
Stony steps coloured marble flickered in and out of the sunlight, dancing shadows cast by the softly swaying branches of a promenade of lote trees. On each side there was a stony railing, similarly coloured, protecting passersby from the fall. Borlin Holdt, enjoying the summer air with deep, full breaths, stood near one such railing, serenely looking down upon the city square as he listened to the warm buzz of the city, the chirping of the birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind. His white marine cloak fluttered gently in the wind, obscuring his large frame just enough. Few people seemed to care about the insignia of a marine officer, which had been a welcome change.

Iron Knife Island was most well-known for its divine cuisine, a fact not only a few marines would consider before applying to join its more than sizeable garrison, but for Borlin it had been almost the entire reason. In his dozens of years of service as a pen-pusher locked within the confines of some cramped cleaning cabin, Borlin had had more time than he could possibly have needed to dream about the joys of travel. Iron Knife Island was, in a way, a dream come true.

Coming up here, to one of The Handle's many elevated walkways, had quickly formed into one of the burly officer's daily habits. One could see much of the city from up here, listen to its many sounds and relax before the duties of the day, which for an Ensign of Borlin's seniority mainly involved holding evening drills for fresh greenhorns. And as it was said, speak of the devil and he will appear: a group of the very same men appeared from one of the city's many alleyways, their white uniforms distinct against the rich hues of auburn and orange, and stopped briefly in front of some nondescript drinking house. Such groups would always be led by a senior marine, a low-ranking officer usually, and Borlin thought he could recognize a familiar face from the distance arguing with what seemed like a teenager.

Smiling, the large marine smoothed his colorful Ilusian-style holiday shirt and descended down the stairs with a hint of rock-solid authority that brooked slight admiration in some passersby and apprehension in others. Had it always been like this, or had it only started recently?

"I see that you've taken them out to the patrol a bit early today, Rendon," Borlin told his friend from the base, directing what he hoped was a commanderlike nod towards the greenhorns. He'd been able to once again start from a blank slate in this base, with naught but a few of the higher-ups - and Rendon - knowing about his less-than-illustrious past as a marine. Though he had gone through a bit of a situation in Ilusia.

"Yeah. Better early than late, I say, and the earlier the boys get their free time the better they can enjoy the cuisine here, right men?" The greenhorns laughed, some of them even cheered. It was a happy mood that Borlin soon spoiled with his next question.

"Ha, certainly. Was there any trouble with that little rascal?" Rendon paused for a moment. Then he sighed, furrowing his brows.

"So you heard that. His name is Dalton, he's just one of the locals around here. There's... a lot of people have been disappearing around here lately, and the latest victim is his sister. We've launched an investigation into it, but there hasn't been any progress in some time. There's something very odd about the disappearings, too..."

Borlin raised his brow, a sympathetic if thoughtful expression appearing on his burly, bearded face. "This sounds like a true mystery. But that boy, did you ask him if he has seen anything?"

"It is. The thing is-- wait, what? No... well, no, I didn't."

Borlin flashed him a smug smile, memories of a hundred detective stories springing to mind. "Ah, but that was a mistake, my dear friend. We must not let a single lead get away from us!"

"I doubt he saw anything, but... well, good luck to you. He lives around here, I'm sure you can find him if you ask around. We can't afford to linger here too long. I'll get chewed up if we run late again."

"Good luck." Borlin retorted with the hint of an ironic grin.

Now to find this boy. Dalton.

"You there. I require your help, citizens!" Borlin called out to a group of chatting adolescents at a coffee table nearby.

One of them turned to look at him with a polite smile. "Oh, a marine! Do you need us for something, officer?"

"Oh, nothing too serious. Just some routine work. I was wondering if you'd seen the boy called Dalton here."

The man winced. "Poor boy. I assume you're here about his sister, then. Yeah, he ran off that way. Can't tell where he went after that, though." The man pointed to the opposite direction where Rendon and his patrol had gone. Borlin turned his head to look. It was just another alleyway, and one that was unfamiliar to him too. Drat.

"Good man. Thank you for your assistance. I wish you an enjoyable day, gentlemen."

"Good luck finding him."

And with that, Borlin began to search for the boy. Little of his earlier good mood had survived contact with this sudden mystery, however. As the shadows lengthened around him, the large marine could feel the same off-colour atmosphere he'd felt from Rendon. It didn't feel like the mystery in Ilusia had felt. Somehow, all of this felt so much more... off-putting. But there was nothing else to do than to get to it. He did not want to become known for letting possible leads go uninvestigated.
RIO

BORLIN

ARSTEEL

TALLARN
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Franky
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Old Sea Cyborg
[ *  *  *  * ]
Borlin: 1 SD and 500,000 ::beli::

Bonuses: +1SD for trying to make this interesting.
Deducts: Incomplete.

The combination of incomplete deducts and round down policy left you with 0 SD, but I decided the attempt at making something cool when others opted out was worth rewarding.
“We all need to be mocked from time to time Lord Mormont lest we start to take ourselves too seriously.” - Tyrion Lannister
Braidbeard
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