A Sea of Shards: D&D 3.5, IC:

[Hattish Thing]

A Sea of Shards


War has erupted between the industrious and once-great Lereftese Empire, and the large island nation of Gianoa. The United Lereftese Empire used to stretch to basically across the world of Medean, controlling a large amount of countries and peoples, under a fair but somewhat corrupt thumb. In the wake of a recent war between United Lereftain, and the city-state of Karkor, Lereftain was left weakened, opening up a hole for countries previously under it's control to wrestle free of Lereftese rulership. Countries Lereftain once ruled over began to disband and declare their independence. Gianoa was the largest of these countries, being pretty much the size of a large continent, and an island nation. So, the United Lereftese government declared war upon Gianoa, but now relies upon privateers to do a fair amount of work for them. You have been chosen to serve aboard the Wakerider, a war vessel. Under the command of wealthy portside governor, Rick Brutal, you have been commissioned to find and destroy any Gianoan ships seen! But who knows secrets may be uncovered as the crew explores the seas...

The day is bright, the wind cool and refreshing across your skin. The sun shines down upon you as you each disembark whichever vessels you paid to bring you to this pleasant island port, and there may be a skip in your steps as you stride down the wooden docks. You were all sailors, through and through, and finally you were on a job. A real job. A job sponsored by some Governor, therefore by the United Lereftese Government! The job was well-paying, and allowed each of you quite a bit of freedom. Privateers, flying the Lerefetese flag, sailing the legendary Sea of Shards! You received letters inviting you here, to the sunny Port Summerly, with the directions to walk towards the large government building here. Palm trees were everywhere, and the whole place seemed like some fabulous resort the people of the dreary mainland hoped to go to one day. The people were tanned, and quite attractive, even the salty sailormen were decently attractive. Well, for seamen that is. So, you walk through the open gates, nodding towards the soldiers wielding shining muskets and bold blue uniforms.

Where do you go?


http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s440/Singingnoodle/PortSummerly.png ((Pardon Poor Artistry.))

[Acksiom]

Huzzarn adjusts the hilt of the oversized rapier behind his right ear, then snaps the fashionable lace cuffs at his wrist back into position as he ambles past the gates, smiling pleasantly. It's a good opportunity, and his prospects for a better position than the one he's leaving are high, so he heads straight for the government building. All's well with the world!

[Diachronos]

Taalia scowled and shielded her eyes as she looked up toward the sky, trying with little success to gauge how long it would be until sunset. Her facial expression was virtually impossible to decipher between the dark scarf covering the lower half of her face and the squinting of her eyes, though when she tore her gaze off of the sky it was clear in her eyes that she'd rather be anywhere else than outside.

With a small gesture she started walking, pulling her hood down to keep the sunlight out of her face. Behind her was a tall, imposing figure, dressed in simple wool clothing under a tarnished steel breastplate. A metal shield covered one arm, with the other resting on the pommel of a longsword at its hip. The figure's head and face were hidden within its helmet, leaving not even a single inch of the wearer visible below the clothes and armor. It followed close behind her, staying within arm's reach and scanning the crowd.

The half-elf kept her gaze down as a few people looked her way; she had dealt with the prejudice and hatred brought upon her by her drow heritage the entire boat ride to this island, and she didn't want to deal with it right now. Not until she'd had a chance to get a respectable, government-sanctioned job, where her race would not be an issue.

[Mousedigits]

Guybrush walks off the ship and onto the island, with a kind of spring in his step. Going on a mission for the Lereftese Government! He wondered how much money he'd get, and who would be on the crew. He also wanted to see what beauty of a ship they would be sailing. He pulls out a pack of gum, steak flavored, and puts a peice into his mouth, and starts chewing. He then starts off to this Government Building he was told to go to.

[Syekate]

'Disembark' was really a polite way of saying 'escape' for Markoth. A small vessel docks at the port and just as the plank is laid, a small boom can be heard from within the main cabin. Smoke starts streaming from the cracks of the cabin door, until it opens with a large pluming billow to follow. The tiefling can be found running from the cabin wiping soot from his blackened face. In his arms he clutches many different beakers and alchemical equipment, with a large round-bottom flask grasped by his tail. A voice can be heard shouting and coughing from within the ship. The words are difficult to make out with all the hacking, but the gist is pretty clear. "Good riddance."

Free of the spectacle, Markoth places the equipment into his backpack piece by piece, and saunters down the dock and through the gates, chest puffed and proud. He looks straight, head held high, not bothering to dust off or even look at the soldiers as he passes them, but the lump of monkey flesh on his shoulder smiles and chatters noisily at the guardsmen.

[Segrain]

Few events in the course of sea travel are as happy as arriving to the port of your destination. Most seamen are quick to set a foot away from the ship as soon as they can. No matter how much they like their profession, their vessel and their sea, the land is still what they call their home. Most seamen think that their leaves will always be too short for them to start regretting ever stepping on the land. They never had to spent countless days and nights listening to the voices of ocean waves and wondering if they will ever sail on them again. Most seamen know exactly when and and on which ship they are going to challenge the currents once again.
Most seamen are not Ruan Keron. The man who once used to be called by this name was, on the first sight, amidst the most common people in the Port Summerly. Just one more sailor, in an uniform not unlike those worn by any other soldier or seaman in the port. Blue colours of Lereftain and sea on his clothes and similar military pack on his back were well worn and equally well maintained, while a bow that he was carrying and a set of armour with two scabbards that a good eye could spy under his cloak were perhaps too good for a common soldier. But it was his behaviour that made him stand out. After slowly leaving a small vessel that brought him and saying his goodbyes - more to the ship than to its crew, it seemed - he made no haste to join those sailors who were eager to taste what port had to offer them. Instead he turned back to the sea and for a long time stood without any movement, watching something that existed only in his own eyes.
"I know", finally whispered he into the sea wind. "I will soon return". And with that, a man in Lereftese colours finally made his way to the busy crowds. At least for his sight they were crowds: it was long since he used to see other people walking the land where they live. By the force of habit that could not be forgotten he saluted to guards at their posts, but his mind did not think to ask them about the right way to go. There was no need, even though he never was in this port before; people - or all living beings - were the same everywhere. If you see a lot of animal tracks, you can find your way to the water; just follow them whither they go to the lowest. Therefore, a lot of people walking around means something similar; but men are attracted by different things. They walk their ways towards power and wealth, and those who have the most will dwell in the lair highest and biggest. Were those not the same things that were promised to him and brought him hither?
Perhaps not. In his hand was a letter, and he clenched at it as tight as once - was it month or years ago? - as once he held onto the last piece of his ship that still could float. The letter promised him riches to plunder and ships to seize, but it was not what he desired. Like one of the animals that he was remembering, he only sought water - though not the fresh and clean river to drink, but salty and vast sea to sail. And the letter promised to give it to him. He still was wearing the colours of his loyalty - and the letter was calling him to uphold it. He still remembered whom he used to be - and the letter was addressed to that man whom he was.
The man who once again was called Ruan Keron was walking towards the governor's building, and in his hand was a bait worthy of his life. No hook was too dangerous to scare him away from that.

[Tempestfury]

Whilst some might of been happy to have a job funded directly by the Empire’s government, Typhose didn’t care. Whilst some might have found the fact that they would have a lot of freedom with the job enjoyable. Typhose didn’t care. Whilst some might have been excited to be Privateers on the legendary Sea of Shards... Typhose didn’t care. To Typhose, this job was just another job in her surprisingly long career as a mercenary. she didn’t particularly care for Lereftese and its war against Gianoa, all she cared about was her pay... and who she would be working with.

So the Tiefling sauntered down through the port, her tail swaying behind her as she moved purposefully towards her destination. She didn’t care about the thoughts and feeling of those around her, with her demonic heritage so easily on display. If people did have trouble with it? Tough. If they brought the trouble up with her... well, she didn’t have two pistols stuck into her belt for fun after all.

[Hattish Thing]

The sun continues to shine, the beautiful blue sky amply covered in fluffy white clouds. It's a beautiful tropical day here, and a light wind playfully dances at the clothes of the fated few bound for the government building. Guards don't often interact with the people, though it's clear that said guards are much friendlier than most. There's hardly any crime here, and it was a particularly nice day after all. The docks are sturdy, and it'll certain feel good to those more accustomed to land to find themselves so sure-footed. None of the newcomers receive particularly odd glances, save for the thoroughly disgusting monkey... thing oozing against a certain tiefling. Traveler's were quite common here, and the people even seemed to like strangers. It's apparent that this small port must be a sailors paradise. No gutter rats trying to steal all your coin, no corrupt guardsmen, and no terrible weather to keep the sailors inside! Even the women here seem prettier and stronger than most. After only a five minute walk, the party will find themselves all at the large metal gate surrounding the government building. Two guards stand outside the gate, papers in hand. As the party meets up here, the guards will bark out their names. There's a male and female guard, and both seem to be in a fairly pleasant mood. The woman speaks, the male looking over the others cautiously, but kindly. "Erm... Hallo there! Is this everyone? Tell me your names, and sign here. Then you'll be let in to meet with Governor Brutal." She'll pass a long spot of parchment around.

[Mousedigits]

''All right, then! Sign I will!" Says Guybrush as he takes the paper and scribbles his name onto it.

Then, seeing Markoth, turns and says: "Nice monkey. I've seen weirder, though. Did you know there's a monkey with three heads?"

[Diachronos]

Taalia muttered a short curse when she realized that she'd forgotten her healer's kit. She turned to head back to the ship she'd just departed from, but changed her mind upon seeing the dirty looks that members of the previous crew gave her when they saw her coming back. There had been enough problems with them on the trip to this island, she wasn't going to invite more over an easily-replaced set of medical implements.

At the government building, she signed her name on the parchment, followed by the name of her bodyguard on the same line. When she was admitted into the building, she gave a brief murmur of thanks to the guards and entered at a brisk pace. The building's interior was invitingly dark compared to the sunlit streets outside, a fact that she was grateful for. Even so, she kept her hood and scarf in place, preferring to wait until she knew that Governor Brutal wouldn't have any issues with half-drow.

[Acksiom]

With a courteous nod, Huzzarn plucked the parchment from the cloaked and hooded figure's outstretched hand. He waved it a few times in the sunlight to allow the ink of the previous names to dry before adding his own in a round, flourishing hand, then passed it to the person beside him.

[Tempestfury]

If she was honest, Typhose was very surprised by how good and nice the harbour was, at least on the surface. And that is what made her suspicious, the place was a little too clean, a little too nice and good for her liking. No criminals or pickpockets at all? Guards that were clean and did their duty, not even many signs of alcoholics... the Tiefling might just be cynical or paranoid, but a place like this could too easily hide a darker, more brutal reality.

She eyed the other people arriving at the baron’s place with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. After all, one could never tell where the loyalty of strangers lied, and though it was likely that Typhose was going to be serving with them, one could never be too careful about it. The Tiefling didn’t hesitate in taking the parchment and signing it. Her words quick and efficient before passing it along.

[Segrain]

Apparently, he was far from being the only one to be summoned at this day to governor's presence. And judging by the names being read from the same list and people of those names being gathered together, all of them were here for the same purpose. Did it mean that he would be to serve alongside them from now on? Were those people to become one crew? Maybe, maybe... frowning, the man in uniform eyed his not-yet-companions. Neither their looks nor their names, called out by guard, evoked any trust or camaraderie; in fact, some of them already showed themselves to be quite weird. With a silent sigh, man turned away for a moment, gazing at distant sea as if he just heard somebody calling him.
Still, it was not yet time to return. Once again his eyes returned to assembled company, watching them signing their names one after another. When parchment finally found its way to his hands, he examined it, only slightly longer than it should have taken to read through it, - as if for a moment he forgot what is he supposed to do. Once again he looked at the letter he still held and with a short nod hid it somewhere under his cloak. "Ruan Keron" - wrote he swiftly and passed the parchment to the next person.

[Syekate]

Markoth takes the paper from Ruan and scribbles his name on it quickly, leaving a sooty smudge behind. When done, he says, "Three heads, eh? Maybe we should try that on you, Jojo." The monkey-tumor chatters its teeth angrily at Guybrush.

[Vhaidara]

The winds had been against Garret the last few days, and that he arrived today at all was a sign of both luck and skill. The young man bounded from the prow of the ship as it docked, and raced to the government building.
Hope I'm not too late! Garret Storm here!