Setting
Apart from being more oceanic, i.e. ¾ water, Indri'Enis differs little from Earth. It is a similar size with the same density, gravity and atmosphere and has only a single sun. It does, however, have two moons – Isiah and Ortel – that orbit perpendicular to each other. Major constellations include the Little Cub, Hertius, and Lia’s Mirror. A bright blue speck marks the nearest planet – named Lorvas – and is visible during day and night.
Landscape
Most land = archipelagos of between 1 and 20 islands, scattered randomly across the globe. There are no continents, only Regions and Archipelagos. Landscape ranges widely like Earth, with forests, deserts, mountains, ice, etc. About 60% of the land is habitable (i.e. big enough and with a habitable landscape).
The story will take place upon Ista, the largest island of the Istan Region which contains six islands in total - in order of size: Ista, Galvos, Forten (uninhabitable), Mart and Ninia (uninhabitable). Ista is an extinct volcanic island with the main towns and cities huddled in the centre of the large (miles-wide) crater and surrounded by mountains. A pass created by an ancient glacier carves through the SE side of the mountain ring, opening out into the largest harbour in the world. Many beaches and coves can be found around the outer edge of the island and a large reef encompasses the whole of the N/E. Climate is the same as the rest of the world, though the major cities and towns are protected to some extent from the worst of it by the mountainous barrier that surrounds them.
Goat and sheep are the main farming practice, grazing on the rough mountain slopes, and cities often hold their own orchards. The mountains cannot be navigated during the winter and, during the blizzard month, even the large SE pass is often too dangerous to travel through. Forests – coniferous on the inner edge, tropical on the outer – can be found at the base of the volcano and are more clumped than evenly spread in the crater due to forestry.
At the centre point of the crater is a lake that is fed from several small tributaries from their sources on the mountain peaks to the estuary mouth at the sea, through the SE pass.
Climate/Tides
Climate is generally the same all over the world but with season extremes: Spring = monsoon season, Summer = drought season, Autumn = hurricane season, Winter = blizzard season. Extremes are predictable, with each season containing a full month of sporadic extreme weather, i.e. March-May = Spring (monsoons = April), June-August = Summer (drought = July), September-November = Autumn (hurricanes = October), December-February = Winter (blizzards = January).
Tides are extreme four times a year when the moons are closest to each other and correspond with the extreme weather: high tides in April and October (often resulting in floods) and low tides in July and January (land bridges form between some islands).
Animals
Teela are the sentient humanoid natives, having evolved from ape-like ancestors, and have been around for just over half a millenia. No other humanoid races as of yet, due to space travel only just being invented.
There are no magical creatures but some very large species are present – most notably Kraken (sea-squids), Morgar (sea-serpents) and Rocs (eagles) – as well as the endemic Eben-wolves (rock-wolves).
There is more than one type of Kraken and each subspecies varies in appearance and size: elongated to round, the size of a small fishing boat to a three-masted flagship and bigger. Kraken are only found on deep-sea voyages and as such, these are made with caution (leading to further segregation of each race).
Morgar are more common than Kraken and vary even more in size – from the size of a small viper to bigger than the width of a carriage and the length of ten – and vary in colouration depending on age. Young Morgar are more brightly coloured, indicating their poisonousness to predators, whereas older Morgar use more stealth in their attacks and thus are duller – often camouflaged.
Rocs - the giant eagles - come in a variety of colours from greys and creams, to blacks and mahoganys. Temperaments also vary between the extremes of hostile and friendly, and a soldier needing to tame a Roc must be wary of the eagle's volatile mood swings. However, Rocs are extremely loyal and once bonded share a very close relationship with whatever it deems its companion. Rocs, therefore can never be adopted once their companion has died. Roc lifespans vary little - most healthy birds living to between 90-100 years - however, lifestyle changes may reduce lifespans significantly e.g. Sky-fighters.
Eben-wolves - commonly known as rock-/cliff-wolves - are wild, secretive creatures that patrol the mountains throughout the globe. The rarely come down from the snowy heights, except in the extreme blizzard month where they can often be found scouring the forests for food. Females have between 2 and 12 cubs and the pack follows a matriarcal heirarchy, males ranging between packs to find mates and hunting singularly. They have been known to attack mounted couriers in times of low food.
Civilisation
Capital island = approx. 46,500,000. World population = approx. 2,000,000,000. Small town = up to 5,000. Large town = between 5,000 and 50,000. City = >50,000.
Cultural diveristy between native Teela is distinguished by their markings – both patterning and colour. More LEDCs than MEDCs (medieval-like era). Social heirarchies within civilisation are often based on colour. Differences in marking shapes often reflects race advancement (the larger and more irregular the markings, the less civilised the race is; can be a generalisation though).
Nb: The eldest sibling often takes on part of the mother/father's name (depending on sex), e.g. my character's older brother Leor takes his name from the first part of his father's forename 'Leortraeus'. Forename of child can be taken from part of parent's forename or family name.
Currency: 1 x Amber Imperial = 5 x Crimson Shillings; 1 x Crimson Shilling = 100 x Ivory Pennies.
Communication on the island is via messenger (usually single rider – rapid delivery) or courier (horse-drawn carriage – slower and more susceptible to bandits). Communication between islands is via Roc - which often only the rich can afford - or via boat. The only possibility of travel between islands in this world is by boat - of which there are all shapes and sizes - as Rocs are only available for travelling in certain occupations, e.g. militant, exploration, courier, etc.
Guilds:
1. Weapons: The most secrective guild of the three, the Weapons Guild has no determined base, though it is well-known across the island. Once a blacksmith establishes his business in weapon-craft, he is contacted by the guild who enforces a licencing fee, in return recieving protection and more high-class clientelle. A smith may also be invited to produce metalwork other than weaponry and is paid hansomly for the privilage. The weapons guild may also provide training to smiths if and when needed.
2. Militant: The Militant Guild is pretty self-explanitary and holds a base - known simply as the Citadel - on the SW side of Ista's crator, close to the pass entrance. Members are invited or can request admission and most are accepted as long as they agree to the training necessary. Different factions are often created through Teela markings, causing some rivalry to arise, however, healers entering the guild from the Academy are accepted and respected by all factions. 'Sky-fighters', 'Stealth' teams and 'Explorers' and are the only militant factions that can rise to the privilage of training and riding Rocs. Sailors are also trained under the militant guild's ageis.
3. Academic: The Academic Guild - also known as the Academy - tutors the poplace in all other aspects than those above. It is the most prominent of its kind and teaches a variety of Teela races, in everything from literature and law to art, theatre and alchemy. The Academy proper is situated on the opposite side of the crator to the Militant Guild, but has various oratoriums across the island - one in each major town.
Healers go through the Academy like the historians, artisits etc. Because healers are so essential, students are often taught in small groups of no more than half-a-dozen to ensure they get the correct training. I'd say a typical healer apprenticeship is around 3-5 years, but most stay on afterwards at the Academy as it can be used as a kind of hospital (people generally know that there will be a healer free if they go to the Academy).
Healing is done in the manner of the alchemists - in fact, it's actually a division of alchemy and both alchemists and healers often study together for their first year. Natural liquids, powders and herbs are used and are mixed to create new ones. Sometimes a healer will create something personal, i.e. not used by anyone else, and these become their trade-mark. Healers can either generalise their knowledge or choose to specify on a particular section of healing, e.g. wounds, burns, sickness, sanity, etc.
'Magic'
‘Magic’ is composed of alchemy or tribal-like rituals, depending on how civilised the race. Simple alchemy uses natural powders and liquids, occasionally bound with ritualisations, whereas complex alchemy used for weapons and flight involves the latter combined with a form of ore called Erythoril.
• Erythoril is a mirrorlike, apricot-coloured ore. It is heavy, smooth and extremely inflexible in solid form. Its melting point is very high, though combining it with other compounds can lower the melting point. Once tempered (like steel), it provides excellent protection from radiation and some insulation against temperature changes, as well as being very unreactive. The smell of sugar comes from this material in its crude form. When exposed to open flame, i.e. when tempered, it becomes paler and almost white-gold in color and is used in this state for metalwork, jewelery and weaponry. When the crude ore is exposed to acid, it explodes, and this has recently been used in the development of space-flight.
‘Magic’ used in rituals comes from personal willpower and is an inexhaustable resource, depending on how the rituals are undertaken. Fasting is more common than sacrifices in LEDCs but the latter do occur: mostly animals but sometimes with the shaman’s own blood or limbs. MEDCs have realised that neither fasting nor sacrifices are necessary for the rituals to work and often only use alchemy anyway.
Landscape
Most land = archipelagos of between 1 and 20 islands, scattered randomly across the globe. There are no continents, only Regions and Archipelagos. Landscape ranges widely like Earth, with forests, deserts, mountains, ice, etc. About 60% of the land is habitable (i.e. big enough and with a habitable landscape).
The story will take place upon Ista, the largest island of the Istan Region which contains six islands in total - in order of size: Ista, Galvos, Forten (uninhabitable), Mart and Ninia (uninhabitable). Ista is an extinct volcanic island with the main towns and cities huddled in the centre of the large (miles-wide) crater and surrounded by mountains. A pass created by an ancient glacier carves through the SE side of the mountain ring, opening out into the largest harbour in the world. Many beaches and coves can be found around the outer edge of the island and a large reef encompasses the whole of the N/E. Climate is the same as the rest of the world, though the major cities and towns are protected to some extent from the worst of it by the mountainous barrier that surrounds them.
Goat and sheep are the main farming practice, grazing on the rough mountain slopes, and cities often hold their own orchards. The mountains cannot be navigated during the winter and, during the blizzard month, even the large SE pass is often too dangerous to travel through. Forests – coniferous on the inner edge, tropical on the outer – can be found at the base of the volcano and are more clumped than evenly spread in the crater due to forestry.
At the centre point of the crater is a lake that is fed from several small tributaries from their sources on the mountain peaks to the estuary mouth at the sea, through the SE pass.
Climate/Tides
Climate is generally the same all over the world but with season extremes: Spring = monsoon season, Summer = drought season, Autumn = hurricane season, Winter = blizzard season. Extremes are predictable, with each season containing a full month of sporadic extreme weather, i.e. March-May = Spring (monsoons = April), June-August = Summer (drought = July), September-November = Autumn (hurricanes = October), December-February = Winter (blizzards = January).
Tides are extreme four times a year when the moons are closest to each other and correspond with the extreme weather: high tides in April and October (often resulting in floods) and low tides in July and January (land bridges form between some islands).
Animals
Teela are the sentient humanoid natives, having evolved from ape-like ancestors, and have been around for just over half a millenia. No other humanoid races as of yet, due to space travel only just being invented.
There are no magical creatures but some very large species are present – most notably Kraken (sea-squids), Morgar (sea-serpents) and Rocs (eagles) – as well as the endemic Eben-wolves (rock-wolves).
There is more than one type of Kraken and each subspecies varies in appearance and size: elongated to round, the size of a small fishing boat to a three-masted flagship and bigger. Kraken are only found on deep-sea voyages and as such, these are made with caution (leading to further segregation of each race).
Morgar are more common than Kraken and vary even more in size – from the size of a small viper to bigger than the width of a carriage and the length of ten – and vary in colouration depending on age. Young Morgar are more brightly coloured, indicating their poisonousness to predators, whereas older Morgar use more stealth in their attacks and thus are duller – often camouflaged.
Rocs - the giant eagles - come in a variety of colours from greys and creams, to blacks and mahoganys. Temperaments also vary between the extremes of hostile and friendly, and a soldier needing to tame a Roc must be wary of the eagle's volatile mood swings. However, Rocs are extremely loyal and once bonded share a very close relationship with whatever it deems its companion. Rocs, therefore can never be adopted once their companion has died. Roc lifespans vary little - most healthy birds living to between 90-100 years - however, lifestyle changes may reduce lifespans significantly e.g. Sky-fighters.
Eben-wolves - commonly known as rock-/cliff-wolves - are wild, secretive creatures that patrol the mountains throughout the globe. The rarely come down from the snowy heights, except in the extreme blizzard month where they can often be found scouring the forests for food. Females have between 2 and 12 cubs and the pack follows a matriarcal heirarchy, males ranging between packs to find mates and hunting singularly. They have been known to attack mounted couriers in times of low food.
Civilisation
Capital island = approx. 46,500,000. World population = approx. 2,000,000,000. Small town = up to 5,000. Large town = between 5,000 and 50,000. City = >50,000.
Cultural diveristy between native Teela is distinguished by their markings – both patterning and colour. More LEDCs than MEDCs (medieval-like era). Social heirarchies within civilisation are often based on colour. Differences in marking shapes often reflects race advancement (the larger and more irregular the markings, the less civilised the race is; can be a generalisation though).
Nb: The eldest sibling often takes on part of the mother/father's name (depending on sex), e.g. my character's older brother Leor takes his name from the first part of his father's forename 'Leortraeus'. Forename of child can be taken from part of parent's forename or family name.
Currency: 1 x Amber Imperial = 5 x Crimson Shillings; 1 x Crimson Shilling = 100 x Ivory Pennies.
Communication on the island is via messenger (usually single rider – rapid delivery) or courier (horse-drawn carriage – slower and more susceptible to bandits). Communication between islands is via Roc - which often only the rich can afford - or via boat. The only possibility of travel between islands in this world is by boat - of which there are all shapes and sizes - as Rocs are only available for travelling in certain occupations, e.g. militant, exploration, courier, etc.
Guilds:
1. Weapons: The most secrective guild of the three, the Weapons Guild has no determined base, though it is well-known across the island. Once a blacksmith establishes his business in weapon-craft, he is contacted by the guild who enforces a licencing fee, in return recieving protection and more high-class clientelle. A smith may also be invited to produce metalwork other than weaponry and is paid hansomly for the privilage. The weapons guild may also provide training to smiths if and when needed.
2. Militant: The Militant Guild is pretty self-explanitary and holds a base - known simply as the Citadel - on the SW side of Ista's crator, close to the pass entrance. Members are invited or can request admission and most are accepted as long as they agree to the training necessary. Different factions are often created through Teela markings, causing some rivalry to arise, however, healers entering the guild from the Academy are accepted and respected by all factions. 'Sky-fighters', 'Stealth' teams and 'Explorers' and are the only militant factions that can rise to the privilage of training and riding Rocs. Sailors are also trained under the militant guild's ageis.
3. Academic: The Academic Guild - also known as the Academy - tutors the poplace in all other aspects than those above. It is the most prominent of its kind and teaches a variety of Teela races, in everything from literature and law to art, theatre and alchemy. The Academy proper is situated on the opposite side of the crator to the Militant Guild, but has various oratoriums across the island - one in each major town.
Healers go through the Academy like the historians, artisits etc. Because healers are so essential, students are often taught in small groups of no more than half-a-dozen to ensure they get the correct training. I'd say a typical healer apprenticeship is around 3-5 years, but most stay on afterwards at the Academy as it can be used as a kind of hospital (people generally know that there will be a healer free if they go to the Academy).
Healing is done in the manner of the alchemists - in fact, it's actually a division of alchemy and both alchemists and healers often study together for their first year. Natural liquids, powders and herbs are used and are mixed to create new ones. Sometimes a healer will create something personal, i.e. not used by anyone else, and these become their trade-mark. Healers can either generalise their knowledge or choose to specify on a particular section of healing, e.g. wounds, burns, sickness, sanity, etc.
'Magic'
‘Magic’ is composed of alchemy or tribal-like rituals, depending on how civilised the race. Simple alchemy uses natural powders and liquids, occasionally bound with ritualisations, whereas complex alchemy used for weapons and flight involves the latter combined with a form of ore called Erythoril.
• Erythoril is a mirrorlike, apricot-coloured ore. It is heavy, smooth and extremely inflexible in solid form. Its melting point is very high, though combining it with other compounds can lower the melting point. Once tempered (like steel), it provides excellent protection from radiation and some insulation against temperature changes, as well as being very unreactive. The smell of sugar comes from this material in its crude form. When exposed to open flame, i.e. when tempered, it becomes paler and almost white-gold in color and is used in this state for metalwork, jewelery and weaponry. When the crude ore is exposed to acid, it explodes, and this has recently been used in the development of space-flight.
‘Magic’ used in rituals comes from personal willpower and is an inexhaustable resource, depending on how the rituals are undertaken. Fasting is more common than sacrifices in LEDCs but the latter do occur: mostly animals but sometimes with the shaman’s own blood or limbs. MEDCs have realised that neither fasting nor sacrifices are necessary for the rituals to work and often only use alchemy anyway.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Indri'Enis is a part of 
At The Edge of the World.
4 Characters Here
Ymber Ocmare [0] A young man whose noble origins contrast with his flamboyant personality.
Stella Ocmare [0] A young girl with knowledge about swords and healing. She wishes to change the world.
Jean-Baptiste Montague [0] A charismatic man of both many fears and talents
Solstice (Sol) Aibhil??n [0] A quick-thinking, sharp-talking Sky-Fighter with a love only for her work and her Roc, Crya.
Start Character Here »
- 38 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
Setting
0.00 INK
((Chanson))
"Chanson Montague." The girl replied, making a minimal effort to politely bow. Fortunately the young nobleman was considerate enough not to demand further answers or conversation, nor to drag her against her will like the soldier had. She found it unnerving he had her tag along to get a better view of the battlefield, but Chanson could not entirely deny her curiosity. Yet as the skirmish became close enough for Chanson to hear, it suddenly all became very real. There was little to see, but a large cloud of ash, but she could hear the voices and the swords and at that moment Chanson knew she would not forget about them soon.
"This is madness... I never thought the Bellanese would attack such a place... Let us leave this place! We do not want to risk our lives, here."
Chanson did not bother to reply to Ymber, but her eyes had widened and her entire body was shaking. She felt fear, nothing but fear and did her best not to cry, even though she wanted to. "We will leave the city center, though, and move towards... There!" Ymber said and pointed back towards the tents, where more allied soldiers would be. Ymber was afraid too, Chanson thought. He too, felt he needed protection...
Without a word she followed him. Ymber tried to start some idle conversation, but Chanson pretended not to hear him. The girl found herself walking closer to the young lord than she had before, she even held on to his arm, something that was nothing short of rare for Chanson. Her cheeks had already become moist, but Ymber seemed not to notice, or care. Suddenly, he stopped and drew his sword, to point it at a familiar figure.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Ymber had been faster to notice Jean than she and put his arm in front of us. Jean looked gray, covered in a blanket of ash and parts of his sleeves were tainted by blood. Unlike Ymber, Jean did not reach for his blade. Instead, he continued to walk towards the two. Chanson knew what this meant, Jean was not one to take risks with blades and as silent as he was now; something bad had happened and another could. His frown was dark, as if the ash cast a shadow across his face and its unwavering expression. "I am Jean-Baptiste Montague. Step aside, I have come to claim my daughter." Jean articulated clearly, not lingering on one step or word, as he drew closer.
Chanson grabbed hold of Ymber's sleeve, "Ymber Ocmare, stand down!" She said, but in her current state it sounded more like she was begging than commanding him. Jean didn't take risks, Chanson knew he wouldn't expose himself to an edge carelessly, so each step he took was one Ymber should move back. Jean's hand moved towards the hilt of his sword, ready to draw. "This is Jean-Baptiste Montague! I have been looking for this man!"
If only Ymber would listen to her, for she feared Jean had little patience left this day.
"Chanson Montague." The girl replied, making a minimal effort to politely bow. Fortunately the young nobleman was considerate enough not to demand further answers or conversation, nor to drag her against her will like the soldier had. She found it unnerving he had her tag along to get a better view of the battlefield, but Chanson could not entirely deny her curiosity. Yet as the skirmish became close enough for Chanson to hear, it suddenly all became very real. There was little to see, but a large cloud of ash, but she could hear the voices and the swords and at that moment Chanson knew she would not forget about them soon.
"This is madness... I never thought the Bellanese would attack such a place... Let us leave this place! We do not want to risk our lives, here."
Chanson did not bother to reply to Ymber, but her eyes had widened and her entire body was shaking. She felt fear, nothing but fear and did her best not to cry, even though she wanted to. "We will leave the city center, though, and move towards... There!" Ymber said and pointed back towards the tents, where more allied soldiers would be. Ymber was afraid too, Chanson thought. He too, felt he needed protection...
Without a word she followed him. Ymber tried to start some idle conversation, but Chanson pretended not to hear him. The girl found herself walking closer to the young lord than she had before, she even held on to his arm, something that was nothing short of rare for Chanson. Her cheeks had already become moist, but Ymber seemed not to notice, or care. Suddenly, he stopped and drew his sword, to point it at a familiar figure.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Ymber had been faster to notice Jean than she and put his arm in front of us. Jean looked gray, covered in a blanket of ash and parts of his sleeves were tainted by blood. Unlike Ymber, Jean did not reach for his blade. Instead, he continued to walk towards the two. Chanson knew what this meant, Jean was not one to take risks with blades and as silent as he was now; something bad had happened and another could. His frown was dark, as if the ash cast a shadow across his face and its unwavering expression. "I am Jean-Baptiste Montague. Step aside, I have come to claim my daughter." Jean articulated clearly, not lingering on one step or word, as he drew closer.
Chanson grabbed hold of Ymber's sleeve, "Ymber Ocmare, stand down!" She said, but in her current state it sounded more like she was begging than commanding him. Jean didn't take risks, Chanson knew he wouldn't expose himself to an edge carelessly, so each step he took was one Ymber should move back. Jean's hand moved towards the hilt of his sword, ready to draw. "This is Jean-Baptiste Montague! I have been looking for this man!"
If only Ymber would listen to her, for she feared Jean had little patience left this day.
Setting
0.00 INK
((Ymber))
Chanson Montague. Ymber was sure she hadn't met her before, but there was something about her name that seemed to ring a bell. No matter how much he thought about it, it was impossible for him to remember what it was. The more time it passed, the more irritated Ymber was, for not being able to remember what was with the girl's name. It was because of that, that he had failed to noticed the girl being scared of what they had seen.
It turns out that having went to see the battle had been a wrong decision. Ymber had showed an important lack of judgement. He wanted to try and join the fight, and that's why he wanted to go there, but it was obvious he would not join if he had a girl to take care of. Why go there at all, then? His decision was lacking sense. Fortunately, Stella wasn't there to remind him of that.
Chanson had been absolutely shocked after the sight of the battle. Ymber had felt her shaking, but thought she might have been feeling cold, and of course did not notice her wide-open eyes. Her fear was not noticed by the young nobleman, and so they just kept walking to the tents. Ymber tried to think about what was going on with the Bellanese, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. It was getting on his nerves.
In the end, Ymber stopped his random talking, as he felt the girl holding on to his arm. He did not know her from before that day, but it certainly seemed strange for her to do that, so she was probably scared. For a moment, Ymber felt sorry for her, felt guilty for having taken her to see the battlefield. In fact, he felt so guilty he didn't dare telling her anything. He might want to apologize to her, some time in the future...
Just as Ymber was thinking about that, he saw the man with reddish hair, and stood in front of Chanson. As he waited for the man's answer, he checked out his looks. He was covered in gray dust, and parts of her clothes were stained... the color was red, probably blood. The man was looking quite imposing, but Ymber was brave, and he would not move his sword away from pointing at him. As strange as it felt for him, he was ready to give his life for that girl, if it was necessary.
The man didn't reach for his blade, and he continued to walk towards them. Ymber looked at him, defiantly. "Who are you, I said! Identify yourself and do not get nearer!" As Ymber yelled, he moved his sword forward, trying to seem imposing. With his height and strong body, he should look half dangerous. But the man kept walking onwards. In the end, he introduced himself. His name was Jean-Baptiste Montague... Chanson Montague... he wanted to claim his daughter. To claim her? It's not like he had kidnapped her!
"Do you have proof of what you say?! Don't get closer! I will not let you lay a finger on this girl if you're not who you claim to be!" Ymber looked back for a moment, and saw Chanson clutching at his sleeve, and begged him to stand down. But it was the next words that made Ymber feel at ease. Once Chanson said that the man was indeed Jean-Baptiste Montague, and that she had been looking for him, he decided he was not dangerous, as he had thought at first.
Ymber swinged his sword for a moment, and then plunged it into the ground. He had remembered what was strange about the girl's name. Of course, it was her surname. She was a Montague. The nobleman smiled, confidently, as he had remembered the name, and who this man was. "Jean-Baptiste Montague...!" He patted the girl's head, and motioned her to go with her father. "I am Ymber Ocmare."
Chanson Montague. Ymber was sure she hadn't met her before, but there was something about her name that seemed to ring a bell. No matter how much he thought about it, it was impossible for him to remember what it was. The more time it passed, the more irritated Ymber was, for not being able to remember what was with the girl's name. It was because of that, that he had failed to noticed the girl being scared of what they had seen.
It turns out that having went to see the battle had been a wrong decision. Ymber had showed an important lack of judgement. He wanted to try and join the fight, and that's why he wanted to go there, but it was obvious he would not join if he had a girl to take care of. Why go there at all, then? His decision was lacking sense. Fortunately, Stella wasn't there to remind him of that.
Chanson had been absolutely shocked after the sight of the battle. Ymber had felt her shaking, but thought she might have been feeling cold, and of course did not notice her wide-open eyes. Her fear was not noticed by the young nobleman, and so they just kept walking to the tents. Ymber tried to think about what was going on with the Bellanese, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. It was getting on his nerves.
In the end, Ymber stopped his random talking, as he felt the girl holding on to his arm. He did not know her from before that day, but it certainly seemed strange for her to do that, so she was probably scared. For a moment, Ymber felt sorry for her, felt guilty for having taken her to see the battlefield. In fact, he felt so guilty he didn't dare telling her anything. He might want to apologize to her, some time in the future...
Just as Ymber was thinking about that, he saw the man with reddish hair, and stood in front of Chanson. As he waited for the man's answer, he checked out his looks. He was covered in gray dust, and parts of her clothes were stained... the color was red, probably blood. The man was looking quite imposing, but Ymber was brave, and he would not move his sword away from pointing at him. As strange as it felt for him, he was ready to give his life for that girl, if it was necessary.
The man didn't reach for his blade, and he continued to walk towards them. Ymber looked at him, defiantly. "Who are you, I said! Identify yourself and do not get nearer!" As Ymber yelled, he moved his sword forward, trying to seem imposing. With his height and strong body, he should look half dangerous. But the man kept walking onwards. In the end, he introduced himself. His name was Jean-Baptiste Montague... Chanson Montague... he wanted to claim his daughter. To claim her? It's not like he had kidnapped her!
"Do you have proof of what you say?! Don't get closer! I will not let you lay a finger on this girl if you're not who you claim to be!" Ymber looked back for a moment, and saw Chanson clutching at his sleeve, and begged him to stand down. But it was the next words that made Ymber feel at ease. Once Chanson said that the man was indeed Jean-Baptiste Montague, and that she had been looking for him, he decided he was not dangerous, as he had thought at first.
Ymber swinged his sword for a moment, and then plunged it into the ground. He had remembered what was strange about the girl's name. Of course, it was her surname. She was a Montague. The nobleman smiled, confidently, as he had remembered the name, and who this man was. "Jean-Baptiste Montague...!" He patted the girl's head, and motioned her to go with her father. "I am Ymber Ocmare."
Setting
0.00 INK
Pre-launch
((Jean))
There is only so much a man can take in for a day; the mysteries of the Bellanese bothered Jean, as did the lord's incompetence and Solstice' lack of self-control. Discipline and order were what he had grown used to and this chaos both frustrated and frightened him. They had been able to think on their feet today, but had the situation been more dire, Jean did not know if they could have celebrated a victory. This chaos would have to change. Today had shown Jean he had to take greater responsibility than he had ever accounted for. Jean did not have to take care of only Chanson, but it felt like he had an entire crew under his wing; the idea of joining as a common guard had been an illusion.
Jean doubted his decision to leave the task of hearing out the lord in the hands of Stella. Her confidence had been reassuring to most men, but Jean was unlike most men and with information this precious, Jean had preferred to take it upon himself. However, Chanson was a responsibility of his also, one he could not ignore. However little patience he had left, it seemed a man was about to test it...
When Jean had finally found Chanson, a young man, seemingly of noble birth, stood between him and his daughter. Not only that, he drew his sword and demanded answers from him, as if Jean were to be a criminal! Jean's frown grew, his eyes dulled and his focus became nothing but the man's movements. He walked towards Chanson, but the man would not back down. "I am Jean-Baptiste Montague. Step aside, I have come to claim my daughter." The ex-commander answered, when the man asked for his identity, but it seemed he did not believe him.
As he came closer he reached to his own blade, preparing to counter any movement the man would make. He would claim his daughter and return; he was a trained and experienced swordsman who had served for the guild. A sword alone did not scare Jean, especially not if it was a young nobleman who wielded this blade. It was a formality for the families, but few ever put their training to the test. Micháele, for one example, had rarely fought.
Fortunately for the young man, Jean depicted, Chanson got him to back down. He introduced himself as Ymber Ocmare and thrusted his sword into the ground; a dramatic flamboyance Jean-Baptiste could have appreciated under different circumstances. He motioned Chanson towards Jean and she quickly ran to him and grabbed his sleeve. Jean had not taken his eyes of the nobleman, but removed his hand from the hilt of his own blade.
“I thank you, for returning to me my daughter.” Jean stated, more as an announcement than a true show of gratitude. Something more would have been in order, however he had dropped his act since he had left Stella Oceane and had not intention of recovering his noble image for today. “We must be on our way now. Farewell, Ymber Ocmare.”
Jean-Baptiste and Chanson left the scene, and didn't speak a single word on their way back...
((Jean))
There is only so much a man can take in for a day; the mysteries of the Bellanese bothered Jean, as did the lord's incompetence and Solstice' lack of self-control. Discipline and order were what he had grown used to and this chaos both frustrated and frightened him. They had been able to think on their feet today, but had the situation been more dire, Jean did not know if they could have celebrated a victory. This chaos would have to change. Today had shown Jean he had to take greater responsibility than he had ever accounted for. Jean did not have to take care of only Chanson, but it felt like he had an entire crew under his wing; the idea of joining as a common guard had been an illusion.
Jean doubted his decision to leave the task of hearing out the lord in the hands of Stella. Her confidence had been reassuring to most men, but Jean was unlike most men and with information this precious, Jean had preferred to take it upon himself. However, Chanson was a responsibility of his also, one he could not ignore. However little patience he had left, it seemed a man was about to test it...
When Jean had finally found Chanson, a young man, seemingly of noble birth, stood between him and his daughter. Not only that, he drew his sword and demanded answers from him, as if Jean were to be a criminal! Jean's frown grew, his eyes dulled and his focus became nothing but the man's movements. He walked towards Chanson, but the man would not back down. "I am Jean-Baptiste Montague. Step aside, I have come to claim my daughter." The ex-commander answered, when the man asked for his identity, but it seemed he did not believe him.
As he came closer he reached to his own blade, preparing to counter any movement the man would make. He would claim his daughter and return; he was a trained and experienced swordsman who had served for the guild. A sword alone did not scare Jean, especially not if it was a young nobleman who wielded this blade. It was a formality for the families, but few ever put their training to the test. Micháele, for one example, had rarely fought.
Fortunately for the young man, Jean depicted, Chanson got him to back down. He introduced himself as Ymber Ocmare and thrusted his sword into the ground; a dramatic flamboyance Jean-Baptiste could have appreciated under different circumstances. He motioned Chanson towards Jean and she quickly ran to him and grabbed his sleeve. Jean had not taken his eyes of the nobleman, but removed his hand from the hilt of his own blade.
“I thank you, for returning to me my daughter.” Jean stated, more as an announcement than a true show of gratitude. Something more would have been in order, however he had dropped his act since he had left Stella Oceane and had not intention of recovering his noble image for today. “We must be on our way now. Farewell, Ymber Ocmare.”
Jean-Baptiste and Chanson left the scene, and didn't speak a single word on their way back...
Setting
0.00 INK
Pre-launch
((Ymber))
Ymber eyed the man who was standing in front of him, while Chanson ran towards him. Jean-Baptiste Montague, hm? He was surely interesting, as far as he knew. Jean removed his hand from the hilt of his blade, and this made Ymber feel at ease. Things would not get bad, and he was happy for that. He stood in his position for a short while, after Chanson's father had expressed his thanks for returning his daughter. He had sounded really serious, as if he was not truly grateful. Right after that, the man announced he would be leaving with the girl.
The young nobleman's blood started to rush. He had reunited the girl with her father, and not a single word of appreciation was given? That was beyond what he could take, that was for sure. Ymber grabbed his sword, and sheathed it again, quickly, as his skills allowed him to do. He then stepped forward, and shouted with all his voice.
"I did not return your daughter to you, Montague! I helped the girl to find the person she wanted to find! I did not do this for you, but for her, do not forget that!!"
Jean-Baptiste didn't speak a word and, in fact, he didn't even turn around. Ymber was starting to feel really angry, and he rushed forward, a few more steps, not really knowing what to do. That was until a thought rushed through his mind. He smiled to himself, confidently, and he shouted again, perhaps even louder than he had done before.
"Chanson!!" The girl looked back for a moment. "Our paths will definitely cross again, do not doubt that!!" With that, he turned around, and left, without looking back. He had secretly hoped that Jean-Baptiste had looked back and saw him leaving, confidently, but that didn't happen. However, soon, Ymber remembered he had to go towards the ship, just in case they were leaving soon. After all, that was his goal, anyway, right?
Looking quite relaxed, the young man walked back towards where he had met Jean-Baptiste Montague and beyond, since he knew the ship was in that direction. Could it be, that Montague was actually in the ship, too? Ymber dismissed this thought as something way too stupid, be he admitted it would be interesting. In the end, after a relatively short walk, he found the ship, as huge as he had imagined, and he only had to tell his name to one of the guards, in order to get in.
Right before that, he had seen a young woman covered in blood and dust get into the ship, and he obviously had to ask the guard who that woman was. He had to know the name, as he could not believe people would dare going around, looking like that. "That is Lady Oceane. She fought in the battle that took place not long ago." was the answer Ymber got.
So, a woman who fought in that battle, hm? Probably she had a good swordplay that could be tried against his own. That would be a good idea, as there would be plenty of time, to do that, while in the ship. Therefore, he wasn't particularly concerned about the woman, and went to find his own quarter in the VIP Quarterdeck, as he deserved for being the nobleman he was.
((Ymber))
Ymber eyed the man who was standing in front of him, while Chanson ran towards him. Jean-Baptiste Montague, hm? He was surely interesting, as far as he knew. Jean removed his hand from the hilt of his blade, and this made Ymber feel at ease. Things would not get bad, and he was happy for that. He stood in his position for a short while, after Chanson's father had expressed his thanks for returning his daughter. He had sounded really serious, as if he was not truly grateful. Right after that, the man announced he would be leaving with the girl.
The young nobleman's blood started to rush. He had reunited the girl with her father, and not a single word of appreciation was given? That was beyond what he could take, that was for sure. Ymber grabbed his sword, and sheathed it again, quickly, as his skills allowed him to do. He then stepped forward, and shouted with all his voice.
"I did not return your daughter to you, Montague! I helped the girl to find the person she wanted to find! I did not do this for you, but for her, do not forget that!!"
Jean-Baptiste didn't speak a word and, in fact, he didn't even turn around. Ymber was starting to feel really angry, and he rushed forward, a few more steps, not really knowing what to do. That was until a thought rushed through his mind. He smiled to himself, confidently, and he shouted again, perhaps even louder than he had done before.
"Chanson!!" The girl looked back for a moment. "Our paths will definitely cross again, do not doubt that!!" With that, he turned around, and left, without looking back. He had secretly hoped that Jean-Baptiste had looked back and saw him leaving, confidently, but that didn't happen. However, soon, Ymber remembered he had to go towards the ship, just in case they were leaving soon. After all, that was his goal, anyway, right?
Looking quite relaxed, the young man walked back towards where he had met Jean-Baptiste Montague and beyond, since he knew the ship was in that direction. Could it be, that Montague was actually in the ship, too? Ymber dismissed this thought as something way too stupid, be he admitted it would be interesting. In the end, after a relatively short walk, he found the ship, as huge as he had imagined, and he only had to tell his name to one of the guards, in order to get in.
Right before that, he had seen a young woman covered in blood and dust get into the ship, and he obviously had to ask the guard who that woman was. He had to know the name, as he could not believe people would dare going around, looking like that. "That is Lady Oceane. She fought in the battle that took place not long ago." was the answer Ymber got.
So, a woman who fought in that battle, hm? Probably she had a good swordplay that could be tried against his own. That would be a good idea, as there would be plenty of time, to do that, while in the ship. Therefore, he wasn't particularly concerned about the woman, and went to find his own quarter in the VIP Quarterdeck, as he deserved for being the nobleman he was.
Setting
0.00 INK
Day set: Pre-launch
Time set: PM
Location set: Military Quarters
((Jean))
Jean listened silently, yet unwavering. Of course he had known about the skirmish in Galvos, how Micháele had been showered a hero. He was not the first nobleman to claim and receive false credit and it surprised Jean not in the least to hear this was also the case with lord Micháele. It had hit Solstice hard; not just her pride had been wounded by him. Jean would ask her reason to remain as a sky-fighter one day. Until then, he would proceed as planned and propose the same to Micháele. As long as her temper did not affect her loyalty, Solstice could boil all she wanted.
Quickly after Solstice, Jean too left the flight deck. He was tired and increasingly becoming more agitated with the entire situation. However, with Solstice and Hercule crossed off the list he still had to see Stella. Jean passed his own cabin first, to check on Chanson. She was asleep in a separate bed. Jean sighed, then smiled and after a quick glimpse he closed the door. She might not be his daughter by blood, but Chanson was a daughter all the same. If Jean's crazy in-givings were right and they would find her home, all of this would be worth it.
It was easy to spot a woman on the ship, but nonetheless hard to find Stella. Jean had to ask around if anyone had seen the young soldier. As it turned out, Stella was found in one of the main common rooms, which served more as a bar than anything. Jean tried to make eye-contact and greeted with a quick nod. Quickly he walked to Stella's table and sat down on the chair on the other end; all in one movement.
“Good evening, milady. Forgive me for I must be brief; what is it that you have learned?”
Time set: PM
Location set: Military Quarters
((Jean))
Jean listened silently, yet unwavering. Of course he had known about the skirmish in Galvos, how Micháele had been showered a hero. He was not the first nobleman to claim and receive false credit and it surprised Jean not in the least to hear this was also the case with lord Micháele. It had hit Solstice hard; not just her pride had been wounded by him. Jean would ask her reason to remain as a sky-fighter one day. Until then, he would proceed as planned and propose the same to Micháele. As long as her temper did not affect her loyalty, Solstice could boil all she wanted.
Quickly after Solstice, Jean too left the flight deck. He was tired and increasingly becoming more agitated with the entire situation. However, with Solstice and Hercule crossed off the list he still had to see Stella. Jean passed his own cabin first, to check on Chanson. She was asleep in a separate bed. Jean sighed, then smiled and after a quick glimpse he closed the door. She might not be his daughter by blood, but Chanson was a daughter all the same. If Jean's crazy in-givings were right and they would find her home, all of this would be worth it.
It was easy to spot a woman on the ship, but nonetheless hard to find Stella. Jean had to ask around if anyone had seen the young soldier. As it turned out, Stella was found in one of the main common rooms, which served more as a bar than anything. Jean tried to make eye-contact and greeted with a quick nod. Quickly he walked to Stella's table and sat down on the chair on the other end; all in one movement.
“Good evening, milady. Forgive me for I must be brief; what is it that you have learned?”
Setting
0.00 INK
Day set: Pre-launch
Time set: PM
Location set: The Commons
((Jean))
Stella's assurance was of great relief, although Jean was hard-pressed to believe there were spies aboard. After all the Bellanese had launched a front that they must had been certain to abort or at least post-pone the mission with; it did not make sense to employ such powerful magic if they had planned to send a spy all along. Alas, Jean shrugged the thought. Knowledge of any actions not by command of the lord could be used against Stella and if associated with them; Solstice. Micháele would not hesitate to take measures against that woman
However the course of the conversation changed as Stella revealed there were more parties opposed to the mission. The world of politics always seemed to take place in dark rooms. Then she only made things more bizarre;
“But even so... it was not our military skills and background that made them choose us for this mission.” Stella said. She had lowered her voice, dropped the friendly for a much more secretive manner.
“Please explain yourself.” Jean asked, while his brain already began to create explanations of his own. Did they require them to leave? Was there something that was supposed to be stolen from them while they were away? However Stella did not give him a concrete answer.
“What is the reason we were chosen then, lady Oceane? I do not understand why it would be us, were it not for our expertise. These 'aeliens' as you call them, do you intend to imply they played a part?” Jean asked after Stella had finished. It had taken him a while to digest the information she had given him. “Why is it he gave you such a secret so easily, all the while none aboard knows of the purpose of this mission? I understand Micháele wants to colonise a planet, or mine there, if this information were to be true. However he has not yet informed any of the men...”
This was certain to become a much more complicated journey than ever expected. Jean grumbled as he looked down at the table, then pushed himself to his feet.
“Stella Oceane, may I have this dance?” He asked formally, with a bow a nobleman beckoned. There was more Jean wanted to discuss, more he wanted Stella to find out. If Jean wanted to gain any control over the situation it would be a necessity to be one step ahead of the lord's plans. What Jean expected, if Micháele indeed planned to colonise, was for the lord to feed lies or dreams to the men. It made sense there was information about other planets not revealed to the common man; but this was far more than just studies of the atmosphere and geography of a planet...
Time set: PM
Location set: The Commons
((Jean))
Stella's assurance was of great relief, although Jean was hard-pressed to believe there were spies aboard. After all the Bellanese had launched a front that they must had been certain to abort or at least post-pone the mission with; it did not make sense to employ such powerful magic if they had planned to send a spy all along. Alas, Jean shrugged the thought. Knowledge of any actions not by command of the lord could be used against Stella and if associated with them; Solstice. Micháele would not hesitate to take measures against that woman
However the course of the conversation changed as Stella revealed there were more parties opposed to the mission. The world of politics always seemed to take place in dark rooms. Then she only made things more bizarre;
“But even so... it was not our military skills and background that made them choose us for this mission.” Stella said. She had lowered her voice, dropped the friendly for a much more secretive manner.
“Please explain yourself.” Jean asked, while his brain already began to create explanations of his own. Did they require them to leave? Was there something that was supposed to be stolen from them while they were away? However Stella did not give him a concrete answer.
“What is the reason we were chosen then, lady Oceane? I do not understand why it would be us, were it not for our expertise. These 'aeliens' as you call them, do you intend to imply they played a part?” Jean asked after Stella had finished. It had taken him a while to digest the information she had given him. “Why is it he gave you such a secret so easily, all the while none aboard knows of the purpose of this mission? I understand Micháele wants to colonise a planet, or mine there, if this information were to be true. However he has not yet informed any of the men...”
This was certain to become a much more complicated journey than ever expected. Jean grumbled as he looked down at the table, then pushed himself to his feet.
“Stella Oceane, may I have this dance?” He asked formally, with a bow a nobleman beckoned. There was more Jean wanted to discuss, more he wanted Stella to find out. If Jean wanted to gain any control over the situation it would be a necessity to be one step ahead of the lord's plans. What Jean expected, if Micháele indeed planned to colonise, was for the lord to feed lies or dreams to the men. It made sense there was information about other planets not revealed to the common man; but this was far more than just studies of the atmosphere and geography of a planet...
Setting
0.00 INK
Day set: Pre-launch
Time set: PM
Location set: Military Quarters
((Ymber))
Soon, Ymber knew it hadn't been a good idea to talk to that man. The first image the nobleman saw on the short man would be edged in his mind for a while. Such a big scar. So that was how people who fight end up looking like? Such an ominous appearance, Ymber knew there was something off within him, even if he could not explain what it was.
The young man stepped back for a moment, as if taking a defensive stance, when seeing the other man raising his arm. It even revealed more scars. Ymber felt disgusted; not because of his looks, but because of what those scars meant. However, he decided not to show hesitation. He did not want to appear weak in front of a man who, despite looking dangerous, was still shorter than him. He had to cling to that, in order to feel brave enough to, at least, not run away.
The answer came as a surprise. What did he mean, no fighter? If he was no figher, what on the world was him? It didn't take more than a few seconds, to know what the man was. A murderer, and an expert one, or so he claimed. Ymber would believe him. So he was right in front of a murderer. Capturing him would make him a hero, right? Ymber had to consider trying it, if only for a short moment. It was not the smart choice, however. It would be reckless.
Besides, Ymber was not the kind of person who could become a murderer. Nor he wanted to become one. Killing defenseless women or children was not his style. Hell, he didn't even approve of that!! All he wanted to do was have great skills that would make people kneel before him. And if these skills helped him become a high officer of the army, then all the better.
But Ymber tried looking confident. "Killing a defenseless woman or child? That is not for me, not at all. I want the best swordplay of all Indri'Enis! But... I won't... do it that way. My name is Ymber, from the Ocmare family! And we will be as far as you can get!". His line... was terrible, he thought. There was also a chance the man would attack -perhaps even kill- him, now. That was a risk he was ready to take.
After all, the words he had chosen to say were mainly to get out of that situation, and if the man was a honorable fighter, everything would have worked like a charm. But he was no fighter, even less honorable. He wished not to be associated to a murderer; that could ruin his reputation. Not even the best set of skills would change his mind, there.
And as he awaited the man's reaction, he realised of something. If he had been able to be modest for once, and just admit he was not cut out to be a murderer, maybe he could have been saved without further problem. But he had to let out all those words, right? And now, for the first time in many years, the young nobleman, Ymber, who was always right, felt he had made a mistake.
Day set: Pre-launch
Time set: PM
Location set: The Commons
((Stella))
Stella looked at Jean, who was still sitting down. She had been able to spot his relief when she told him about how she had made sure the town would be safe, or that she had tried her best to make it happen, at least. But she had also seen his surprised eyes after she explained there were other parties that opposed to that mission. It was, after all, something which belonged to the dark realm of politics, one that she knew only too well.
Jean's face had changed even more, when Stella told him about the 'aeliens', but, surprisingly for her, the man seemed to accept the existance of other beings without much hesitation. He was more concerned about the reasons why they had been chosen. At some point, she would have to give a bit more detail on that, but she felt this was a way too open space for that particular bit of information.
She was worried Jean would be too worried about possible reasons why they had to be on the ship, so the only thing she could do was hope Jean would not get too carried away. He was quite right about the reason being their 'expertise'. And that was exactly it, their own particular and personal skills, and not their military background. In fact, unlike Solstice, Jean and Stella hadn't been chosen as fighters. It bothered her that she had such a role; getting information from the aeliens. In her mind, that was probably the most dangerous role, actually.
"You ask why he gave me such a secret...? Well, of course, I could not predict the extent of the information he knew, and even less be aware that no one aboard the ship was aware of the purpose of the mission... But when I approached him, I tried to use a... we could say, different set of skills, to the ones you have seen." The girl smiled playfully.
It was then, that Jean stood up, and looked at Stella. The man's words surprised her quite a lot. As he bowed in front of her, he asked to have the next dance with her. She was quite surprised, at first, but quickly smiled softly. "Of course, Jean-Baptiste Montague... ah, but I have a question for you... does the name 'Stella' ring a bell?" Stella let out a low yet still audible amused laugh. Being from the Baptiste family, he should know quite a lot of people, but would he associate her name with the daughter of the Ocmare family?
Time set: PM
Location set: Military Quarters
((Ymber))
Soon, Ymber knew it hadn't been a good idea to talk to that man. The first image the nobleman saw on the short man would be edged in his mind for a while. Such a big scar. So that was how people who fight end up looking like? Such an ominous appearance, Ymber knew there was something off within him, even if he could not explain what it was.
The young man stepped back for a moment, as if taking a defensive stance, when seeing the other man raising his arm. It even revealed more scars. Ymber felt disgusted; not because of his looks, but because of what those scars meant. However, he decided not to show hesitation. He did not want to appear weak in front of a man who, despite looking dangerous, was still shorter than him. He had to cling to that, in order to feel brave enough to, at least, not run away.
The answer came as a surprise. What did he mean, no fighter? If he was no figher, what on the world was him? It didn't take more than a few seconds, to know what the man was. A murderer, and an expert one, or so he claimed. Ymber would believe him. So he was right in front of a murderer. Capturing him would make him a hero, right? Ymber had to consider trying it, if only for a short moment. It was not the smart choice, however. It would be reckless.
Besides, Ymber was not the kind of person who could become a murderer. Nor he wanted to become one. Killing defenseless women or children was not his style. Hell, he didn't even approve of that!! All he wanted to do was have great skills that would make people kneel before him. And if these skills helped him become a high officer of the army, then all the better.
But Ymber tried looking confident. "Killing a defenseless woman or child? That is not for me, not at all. I want the best swordplay of all Indri'Enis! But... I won't... do it that way. My name is Ymber, from the Ocmare family! And we will be as far as you can get!". His line... was terrible, he thought. There was also a chance the man would attack -perhaps even kill- him, now. That was a risk he was ready to take.
After all, the words he had chosen to say were mainly to get out of that situation, and if the man was a honorable fighter, everything would have worked like a charm. But he was no fighter, even less honorable. He wished not to be associated to a murderer; that could ruin his reputation. Not even the best set of skills would change his mind, there.
And as he awaited the man's reaction, he realised of something. If he had been able to be modest for once, and just admit he was not cut out to be a murderer, maybe he could have been saved without further problem. But he had to let out all those words, right? And now, for the first time in many years, the young nobleman, Ymber, who was always right, felt he had made a mistake.
Day set: Pre-launch
Time set: PM
Location set: The Commons
((Stella))
Stella looked at Jean, who was still sitting down. She had been able to spot his relief when she told him about how she had made sure the town would be safe, or that she had tried her best to make it happen, at least. But she had also seen his surprised eyes after she explained there were other parties that opposed to that mission. It was, after all, something which belonged to the dark realm of politics, one that she knew only too well.
Jean's face had changed even more, when Stella told him about the 'aeliens', but, surprisingly for her, the man seemed to accept the existance of other beings without much hesitation. He was more concerned about the reasons why they had been chosen. At some point, she would have to give a bit more detail on that, but she felt this was a way too open space for that particular bit of information.
She was worried Jean would be too worried about possible reasons why they had to be on the ship, so the only thing she could do was hope Jean would not get too carried away. He was quite right about the reason being their 'expertise'. And that was exactly it, their own particular and personal skills, and not their military background. In fact, unlike Solstice, Jean and Stella hadn't been chosen as fighters. It bothered her that she had such a role; getting information from the aeliens. In her mind, that was probably the most dangerous role, actually.
"You ask why he gave me such a secret...? Well, of course, I could not predict the extent of the information he knew, and even less be aware that no one aboard the ship was aware of the purpose of the mission... But when I approached him, I tried to use a... we could say, different set of skills, to the ones you have seen." The girl smiled playfully.
It was then, that Jean stood up, and looked at Stella. The man's words surprised her quite a lot. As he bowed in front of her, he asked to have the next dance with her. She was quite surprised, at first, but quickly smiled softly. "Of course, Jean-Baptiste Montague... ah, but I have a question for you... does the name 'Stella' ring a bell?" Stella let out a low yet still audible amused laugh. Being from the Baptiste family, he should know quite a lot of people, but would he associate her name with the daughter of the Ocmare family?
Setting
0.00 INK
Day set: Pre-Launch
Time set: Briefly after Sol leaves... O'clock?
Location set: Kitchens
Daller waved goodbye to Sol as she was bustled out. "Good luck, my lady. I hope to see you again as well!" He turned back to the smoky kitchen, smiling broadly. He felt more confident about this venture already- there was at least one person who wasn't too elitist to speak with a ship's cook like him.
Pushing up his sleeves, Daller set to work with the food.
Day set: Launch Day
Time set: Just prior to launch o'clock
Location set: Daller's Quarters (Eventually)
The hour of the launch found Daller in the kitchens, completely unconcerned amongst the chaos around him. Cooks and staff rushed here and there, trying to secure everything not nailed down and check the nails of the things that were. Daller had a frying pan- with eggs in it- lifted out of his hands.
"What is all of the commotion?" he asked, confused. No one paid him much attention, too focused on their own tasks. "The launch will be smooth, how could it not? We just unty ship from shore and... Er..." Suddenly, he remembered why this ship was so special.
I've never been in a vertical boat before. Maybe I should go hide. This may be a bumpy ride.
Daller pushed his way through the panicking halls, finally stumbling his way into the door of his room. The interior was sparsely decorated, only adorned in a few seafaring trinkets he had collected- A puzzle box from the north that he had yet to open, a collection of books written in his native language, a life preserver (which was simply inevitable in any retired sea man's room; he'd never consciously kept it), and other trinkets. The bed was too small for him, but that was all right. The only other furniture was a chair and simple writing table, which apparently were standard. They'd even provided a journal. How quaint.
"So... Where do I strap myself in?" Daller moved from here to there, searching for an elusive safety strap. None were apparent, and for a moment he wondered if, perhaps, this wasn't where he was meant to be. But everyone else was heading for their rooms...
Daller shut his eyes tight, and sat down on the chair. Going to be a bumpy ride...
He waited as the ship rumbled once or twice, presumably from movement. He waited as it tilted a little as if it was on the sea. He waited until he couldn't stand it anymore, and shouted, "What are they waiting for?"
Abruptly, the air was full of shrieking, straining metal and the distant sound of fire, and Daller fell from his seat. It seemed to go on forever, and when it ended he rolled over and groaned. "Ohh, mother and saints, am I dead?"
Outside, running feet and excited voices announced that, yes, stars were visible, news at eleven. Daller picked himself up and stepped outside, pushing his way to one of the long slit-windows.
Down below, the world turned, and there was so much of it. But it was drifting away.
"Heh. Well, I said I wanted no more ocean.... No more ocean it is!" Daller laughed, laughed from adrenaline and sheer disbelief. I am in space! Me, a cook! What would they say to me now, old captain Sculi and Ords and Grefel?
Time set: Briefly after Sol leaves... O'clock?
Location set: Kitchens
Daller waved goodbye to Sol as she was bustled out. "Good luck, my lady. I hope to see you again as well!" He turned back to the smoky kitchen, smiling broadly. He felt more confident about this venture already- there was at least one person who wasn't too elitist to speak with a ship's cook like him.
Pushing up his sleeves, Daller set to work with the food.
Day set: Launch Day
Time set: Just prior to launch o'clock
Location set: Daller's Quarters (Eventually)
The hour of the launch found Daller in the kitchens, completely unconcerned amongst the chaos around him. Cooks and staff rushed here and there, trying to secure everything not nailed down and check the nails of the things that were. Daller had a frying pan- with eggs in it- lifted out of his hands.
"What is all of the commotion?" he asked, confused. No one paid him much attention, too focused on their own tasks. "The launch will be smooth, how could it not? We just unty ship from shore and... Er..." Suddenly, he remembered why this ship was so special.
I've never been in a vertical boat before. Maybe I should go hide. This may be a bumpy ride.
Daller pushed his way through the panicking halls, finally stumbling his way into the door of his room. The interior was sparsely decorated, only adorned in a few seafaring trinkets he had collected- A puzzle box from the north that he had yet to open, a collection of books written in his native language, a life preserver (which was simply inevitable in any retired sea man's room; he'd never consciously kept it), and other trinkets. The bed was too small for him, but that was all right. The only other furniture was a chair and simple writing table, which apparently were standard. They'd even provided a journal. How quaint.
"So... Where do I strap myself in?" Daller moved from here to there, searching for an elusive safety strap. None were apparent, and for a moment he wondered if, perhaps, this wasn't where he was meant to be. But everyone else was heading for their rooms...
Daller shut his eyes tight, and sat down on the chair. Going to be a bumpy ride...
He waited as the ship rumbled once or twice, presumably from movement. He waited as it tilted a little as if it was on the sea. He waited until he couldn't stand it anymore, and shouted, "What are they waiting for?"
Abruptly, the air was full of shrieking, straining metal and the distant sound of fire, and Daller fell from his seat. It seemed to go on forever, and when it ended he rolled over and groaned. "Ohh, mother and saints, am I dead?"
Outside, running feet and excited voices announced that, yes, stars were visible, news at eleven. Daller picked himself up and stepped outside, pushing his way to one of the long slit-windows.
Down below, the world turned, and there was so much of it. But it was drifting away.
"Heh. Well, I said I wanted no more ocean.... No more ocean it is!" Daller laughed, laughed from adrenaline and sheer disbelief. I am in space! Me, a cook! What would they say to me now, old captain Sculi and Ords and Grefel?
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