Name:

Age:

Gender:

Height:

Position in the City:

Goal: (optional)

Past:

Writing Sample: (Must be a good, well developed paragraph. I expect you to write this way during the game.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:10, Tue 13 July 2010.

Name: Jackson Knight

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Height: 6'7

Position in the City: Pirate Captain

Goal: Money, Women, and Wine.

Past: The son of a prominent citizen of Undertown, he was originally a promising student of the floating acadamy of Sanctaphrax. He was chosen to become a knight-errant, soon to become a full fledged Knight, and pilot a storm-chaser airship to harvest the lightning, or stormphrax, in the Twilight Woods. As good as a death sentence, in his opinion. Immediatly after recieving the honor, he stole and airship and ran away from the acadamy. After much hardship, he aquired a crew and together they rampaged the Edge, dealing in lucrative, and ususally illigal, cargo.

Writing Sample:

   Jackson stretched his back, enjoying the feel of the chilly night wind on his face. His long red hair streamed back from his face as he pulled off the thick bandana he wore that usually held it back. Wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, he exhaled deeply, shaking off a thick dust that had settled on his shoulders. He looked back at the dark doorway he had just emerged from. Tucked away in a high corner of Undertown, this abandoned inn promised to hold a few long-forgotten treasures that Jackson just couldn't pass by. He paid no heed to the rumors that the items in question were cursed; they had jewels encrusted in them. Who cared about anything more than that?
   Pulling on the dark leather jacket he had left on the balcony outside the door, he checked the moorings on the rope ladder leading up to his airship, The Cloudcutter.
   "Lower the ropes," he called quietly up to it. In a second a thick rope dropped, and he caught it before it could smack into the wooden planks of the  balcony, and the same for two others that dropped a moment after. He glanced down; Undertown sprawled out before him, mull of meandering streets and impossibly tall buildings. In Undertown, height equaled status. The rich built up; closer to Sanctaphrax. For a moment, Jackson gazed up at the floating rock. He could see that the great chain binding the acadamy to the ground was straining. The cold air of the night was making the stone more boyant, despite the warmers efforts. The flight rock keeping his own ship airborne was sufficiently warmed by his crew to keep a little slack in the moorings. They had been doing what they did for far too long to not know how to do it well.
   "Captain," came a soft voice from the darkness of the doorway. "All clear?"
   "Clear," he answered back, pushing up his bandana. "Bring 'em out and make it quick."
   Three members of his crew, carrying heavy boxes loaded with plunder, scurried onto the balcony. The aged boards creaked under their feet with the weight of the sealed boxes. Quickly, they tied the ropes around the boxes, looping it several times for security. Calling softly, they watched as the boxes disappeared up into the cargo bay of the ship. Then they followed the captain as he scrambled up the rope ladder without missing a rung, the tails of his coat flapping in the wind.
   Stepping onto the deck, Captain Knight slapped a hand on his Quatermasters shoulder. "Raff, we're gonna be livin' large with this haul," he said jovially, causing several of the crewmembers in earshot to grin. Raff smiled, but there was a hint of doubt in the big man's eyes.
   "Captain, you don't believe the... rumors about what happens to those who own the artifacts, do you?" he asked softly.
   "'Course not," he said, waving away the notion. "Those rumors started because a few people had bad luck. It doesn't have anything to do with their possesions. I'm going to go take a look at them. Get us underway, heading sou'sou'west."
   "Aye, Captain. Sou'sou'west." Raff turned and started giving quiet instructions to the crew, not wanting to let anyone in the city know they were there. Jackson went below, nodding to Dr. Damien as he passed him in the cramped hallway. The thin, bespectecaled man was going up top for some air, it seemed. He was tending a member of Jacksons crew, who had had a mysterious fever for two days. Gunny was the youngest member of his crew, an assistent to Alex, the gunner. He'd been with them only three months before he displayed an apptitude for hitting whatever he aimed at, and Alex had snapped him up as an apprentice, along with the two he already had. The boy was likable, even if he wouldn't tell them his real name. Secretly, Jackson was very worried for him. Having a fever for a few days was a bad sign, and he was so young, just barely turned seventeen. Jackson hoped he pulled through.
   Descending the stairs to the cargo bay, he pulled off his long jacket and tossed it over a roll of very expensive silk he had recently liberated from a frieghter en route to Undertown from the Deep Woods, where the silk was made. Rounding caskets of fragrant spices, tied down stacks of illigal boyant wood from the floating trees of the Deep Woods -- he could see a few slivers and sticks that had escaped from the pile bobbing around the ceiling, he would have to get after Wesley for that. He snatched a few airborne sticks and put them in his pocket, for his fire later. The wood produced a pleasent smell when burned, like honey and lemons, and purple flame. It was very calming. Finally, he got to the three newest additions to his hold. Pulling a fold up chair over from the wall, he set it up before prying open the lids of the boxes. Before him, between the folds of thin, dusty cloth, gold and jewels glinted. He felt an odd warmth crawl up the back of his neck at the sight of the glitter. Boy, did he just love gold and jewels. Sitting down carefully so the chair wouldn't fold under him, he picked up each peice, running his fingers over it and estimating it's worth. There was a cup with real rubies around the base that would feed his crew for a year by itself. A beautiful necklace made from spun silver in the shape of snowflakes, a dainty peice; probably a few months supply of grog. There were tiny figurines of ivory, exquisitly carved to look like rare animals; a bracelet that seemed to be made of hundreds of tiny, individual rings, like chain mail; a ring with the biggest hunk of opal he had ever seen. Every piece was worth a fortune.
    What good luck he had overheard about that old inn! People avoided it like the plauge because they thought it was haunted. It used to be the center for a smuggling operation; this loot had been in their store rooms, just sitting on the shelves waiting to be taken. Then, after the operation recieved a particular item, they were raided by the lawmen of Undertown, and shut down. Jackson picked up the item in question. It was a little silver music box, the lid shaped like the petals of a rose and the base curved like the flower, four leaves forming the stand. It was said that anyone who heard the tune was cursed, and would die soon after. Jackson smiled and rubbed a little dark tarnish off with his thumb.
    "You're harmless, aren't you?" he said, pressing the catch. "How could a beautiful little box like you hurt anyone?" He flipped the lid open, and listened to the sweet, sad melody. He watched the gears turn inside, suddenly mesmerized by its mournful beauty. He could have sworn he felt soft fingers brush against his cheek, a warm breath; then he felt the hull shudder. Looking around, he closed the lid, and set it back in the box. Walking to the stairs, he grabbed his jacket and climbed them quickly. When he walked out on deck, he noted the distance of The Cloudcutter to the ground. It was pretty far, he couldn't make out any details from here. The air was cold, and moving fast; his crew scrambled to secure the sails.
    "Raff!" he shouted as he ran up to the navigation deck, "Raff! What's happening?"
    "Captain!" Raff answered, his eyes on the sky. "A storm is brewing, faster than anything I've ever seen. Everything was calm and clear one second, then the next, the temperature drops, winds pick up, and now there's not a star visible."
    Jackson thought immediatly of the music box. Did it really do this? He refused to believe it.
    "And that's not all, Captain. Taste the air."
    Jackson opened his mouth wide and breathed deeply through his nose and his mouth at the same time. The taste of the air was coppery, and a little sweet. He had only tasted air like that once before, when he was very young.
    "A Great Storm," he breathed, his green eyes fixed on the roiling purple clouds. "Unbelievable. If we could get our hands on some stormphrax, even any of the lighting...." As he spoke, the clouds started flashing brightly, noislessly. Purple, orange, green... it really was a Great Storm.
    "Captain," Raff said warningly, "Riding a Great Storm is too dangerous. I don't think the ship can take it."
    "Riding storms is what this ship was built for," Jackson answered back. "We go for some lightning. Anything we can harvest. Keep heading west, Raff. To the Twilight Woods."
(To Be Continued...)
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:02, Fri 16 July 2010.

Name: Jane Lewin

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Height: 5'8

Position in the City: Thief, and sister to Mordecai.

Goal: Secure a job and living for her, and her brother.

Past: Jane was the daughter of a simple merchant, who delt in the transportation of lightning. When she was sixteen, the business failed because her father was murdered. Jane and her brother ran to avoid the same fate, and have been scraping for a living ever since.

Writing Sample: (I already know how I write.) :p

I'm going to keep writing that little adventure I started, because it's fun, and I want to flesh out my character a little before we get started on the real story. Read it if you want; this is just some practice.

   They headed west for three days, barely staying ahead of the storm. Jackson allowed Raff to pilot. He was skilled enough to steer them clear of any stray currents of wind that might arise, and keep them pointed in the right direction. Every man of his crew knew that Captain Knight was the most talented pilot on the ship, though. He was saving himself for when they would have to ride low to the forest, and send crew members down on lines to harvest the fresh lighting. That would take real skill.
   Jackson also knew that if this storm had passed over Sanctaphrax, of which there was no doubt, there would be a Knight on an airship chasing the storm. As long as Sanctaphrax had been in existance, it had been training Knights to chase the Great Storms. Alone, in their small airships. None had returned for centuries, but then only about a handful had ever been sent out. Great Storms were a rare occurance, and no one knew for sure what caused them, only that they produced the precious lightning that powered and heated homes, and weighed down the rock upon which Sanctaphrax was built. If the rock wasn't weighed down, then the Great Chain might break, and then the acadamy, and all the people living on it, would be lost forever, over the Edge.
    Jackson didn't care so much about that as about how desperate the academics were for stormphrax, the heaviest substance in the world. A cupful weighed more than a thousand ironwood trees. Yes, they were desperate, and they would pay anything he asked. Absolutely anything.
   He hadn't been down to the hold since that night when he had listened to the music box. He kept catching himself zoning out, listening to the tune in his head. He didn't try humming it; he was completely tone deaf. But he could remember it, and it distracted him every quiet moment he found. He coudn't stop thinking that the box was the cause of this miraculous storm. Either he and his crew would get their hands on stormphrax, and live the rest of their lives in complete luxury, without a care in the world... or they would all die.
   Finally, on the third day of the voyage, he ventured down to find the box exactly where he left it. The crew hadn't touched it. They had been avoiding the hold. He hadn't told anyone that he had opened the box; surely they couldn't know. But the storm had blown up right after they had gotten it; they were suspicious. But the promise of untold riches appealed very strongly. They trusted him to get them through this, and get them through this he would. They had been through worse together. But never a Great Storm....
   Even if they didn't get any stormphrax, which was small and hard to find, they could make lots of money selling the other types of lighting, which sometimes fell right into your boat! Or so he had heard. No one had ever returned from riding a Great Storm. But he would. He, and all his crew.
   He didn't open the box again. He picked it up, and cleaned off all the black tarnish he could reach. When he touched it, he could have sword he felt... something. Like there was someone standing right next to him, watching, breathing, reaching out to touch the box and make it warm. For a moment, he sat there, eyes closed, just feeling his surroundings. Yes, there was definatly something there.
   "Who are you?" he whispered. He felt the someone jerk, then drift closer. "Who are you?" he said again, a little louder. He felt a hand over his, the one that held the box.
   "I am sorrow," he heard. "I am misery. I am death. Please, cast this box overboard, before you all die."
    Jackson opened his eyes and looked around. He saw nothing, no one was there. But the pressure on his hand remained. He allowed himself a small grin. "That doesn't really answer my question." He felt the presense stiffen in shock. "Tell me, please. Who are you, and what is this music box?" There was a few moments of silence.
    "I was murdered by the one who gave me this box. Cursed to haunt it forever, and watch the misfourtune it brings. So many have died. Please. Destroy it. His will drives it. All who hear it, die. I like you. You... have already heard it. If you wish to live, you must break the curse. I don't want you to die."
   He studied the box. "And how do I do that?" He felt her shake her head.
   "This is the first conversation I have had in decades. It has been so long, I cannot remember. I will try. But for now, please, keep talking to me."
   Jackson sensed the sadness in the voice. "My name is Jackson Knight. I am a pirate captain aboard the airship Cloudcutter." He told her of his adventures. Quietly, she listened, sometimes asking questions. All the while, she held his hand. After awhile, he was interrupted by the call of Wesley, his bos'n.
   "Captain! Twilight Woods is in sight!"
   "Aye!" he called back. "I must go," he addressed the spirit. "Tell me one thing. What is your name?"
   "I have forgotten. I will try to remember. Go, now. Save your crew. Do not let them hear the music, Jackson." she whispered.
   "I won't," he promised, setting down the box. The insant his fingers left it, her presence disappeared. He ran up to the deck to see that the storm was right on their tail. It would overtake them any time in the next hour. Twilight Woods seemed awfully far off. Jackson helped Raff coax as much speed out of the old girl as was possible, but he knew it wasn't enough.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:40, Fri 16 July 2010.

   Just as they reached the edge of the Twilight Woods, the Storm overtook them. They were battered by winds and rain from every direction, making every inch of exposed skin raw, and surrounded by the colored flashes of lightning. The thunder was deafening, and at any moment The Cloudcutter could be smashed by a stray bolt, or torn asunder by the ravaging winds. His crew had already set up the harvesting rod. Raw lightning jumped down the rod and into the containers his crew attached to the receiving end. They waited anxiously by the containers until they were full, shrouded in thick rubber gloves, leather aprons, and tinted goggles. When the containers were full, they pulled it off, sealed the lid, and replaced it with another. All in under a second. The gunners where helping, since they were pretty sure that no one would attack them here. The only other area of activity on the ship was around the flight rock; the rain chilled it and increased it's buoyancy. Crewmembers held warming lamps up to the stone, desperately shielding them with their bodies, warming it so the Captain could better control the stormchaser.

Jackson's every nerve was wound tight, his eyes as wide open as they could be behind the goggle lenses. He had shed his thick coat and gloves, leaving him in only heavy pants and a thin vest. He needed to feel the wind. Even the battering of the rain told him much, the rigorous training he had undergone at the Academy moving his body faster than thought. Raff stood at his post just behind him, supporting his Captain, sometimes literally as the maneuvers Jackson was pulling knocked him off balance. The quartermaster's broad back was solid and reassuring, as always.

A flash of azure light, barely perceived at the edge of his vision, caused Jackson to explode into motion. He jerked the wheel, and as it spun reached out with both hands and pulled levers, his arms a blur of motion. Behind him, Raff pulled more, a touch slower than the Captain. The Cloudcutter whooshed into a curving dive, looping around so the harvesting rod pointed at the blue lighting. Jackson watched it crackle down the rod with satisfaction. The containers would keep it fresh. Lightning that had been directly harvested was worth so very much more than the stuff scavenged from the forest floor in the days after the Storm passed. Not that they wouldn't stick around to pick up some of the more pricey varieties before the other pirates and smugglers arrived to do their work, despite the danger.

Every glimpse of the ground beneath them showed more and more lightning glowing up from beneath the forest canopy. The trees thrashed in the incredible wind, and Jackson made sure to stay well away from them. The Storm and the lightning masked the glow the forest itself exuded, and he didn't want to get caught up in it. Its mind altering effects were well documented, and they would be facing that danger later. Right now, there was more than enough on their plate.

The Storm raged harder than anything Jackson had ever known. It strained the limits of his not inconsequential skill to keep the wind from tearing the ship to pieces while also harvesting all they could reach. A part of him kept an eye out for the Knight he knew must be riding the Great Storm with them, ignoring the lightning to search for the precious bolt of stormphrax.

One Great Storm made one bolt of stormphrax, but one was more than enough to keep Sanctaphrax anchored for years. He prayed he would be the one to find it, but deep down, like everyone who had ever lived on the floating rock, he prayed that it would be found at all.

In the midst of a Great Storm, feeling his ship straining and trembling under his fingers, feeling it's speed and the wind screaming and the heaviness of the rain and sweet-sour tang of lightning on his tongue, Jackson exulted. He could feel the Storm, its massive ponderous clouds heavy with rain and mist, the strange particles carried from the Open Sky beyond the Edge somehow creating the lightning, merely offshoots to that one great BOOM. Jackson could sense the Storm building. He intuited that it was nearly time, but could also tell that he was nowhere near where the stormphrax would fall. He tried to follow it, but it was too far away and meandered crazily and randomly to boot, like a blindfolded child trying to pin the Anchor on the Rock. His senses were confused, and when he felt the incredible discharge of power, sending a charge along his exposed skin and causing rainbow sparks to erupt and flash all around him, he screamed. Screamed out his frustration, the termination of his joy. The end of the Storm.

Slumped over the wheel, Jackson saw his crewmembers slowly rising from a crouch, holding out their hands in wonder as the rainbow sparks played along their bodies. They were protected under their rubber coats and gloves, but Jackson wasn't. He winced as feeling slowly returned to his body, as his mind let go of the Great Storm and reconnected. His arms... every inch of skin was darkening in a red bruise, broken blood vessels and little black burns from the sparks dotting him from shoulder to fingertips. He stung from the waist up. Before his joints swelled and he could no longer move them, he shrugged his heavy coat back on. He didn't want his crew to see. Damien would help him later, in private.

The Storm blew onward, it's power rapidly decreasing, the bolt of stormphrax deposited somewhere in the Twilight Woods. Jackson did not see it, nor did he see the Knight Academic who had most likely fallen to the Storm's wild winds. He would find out if that poor fool had lived or died when they made it back to Undertown. If they made it back. The Cloudcutter was battered, broken ropes flapping free and holes torn in her sails. A few bits of lightning rolled about on the deck, being quickly gathered by his crew. There were a few scorch marks were the errant bolts had missed the harvesting rod and struck the ship itself. It would take a little work before she was trim again. Jackson left Raff at the pilot's nest and traipsed down the stairs to inspect the rows of containers neatly lined up where they had been lashed down once full. The power radiating from them gave him immense satisfaction. This, combined with the sale of the loot from the inn, would set them up for years.

He praised his boys highly, and ordered a half hours rest before lines would be lowered and they would all take turns dropping to the forest floor to harvest the crystallized lightning that had landed there. It was dangerous work so they wouldn't stay long. Jackson didn't want to lose anyone to the forest's strange madness, nor did he want to be caught with a damaged ship when other scavengers arrived. Jackson was mostly a pirate of pirates after all-- it sat better with him to steal what had already been stolen once. It made him few friends, but he didn't want that bloodthirsty lot to like him anyway.

Thinking of the haul they had stolen from the abandoned inn, Jackson slipped down to the cargo hold and retrieved the music box. He spent the next days sequestered in his cabin, healing his skin and slowly coaxing as much information out of the spirit as he could. It took much effort to jog her memory, but he learned much. He learned of the curse, it's good luck that turned sour in strange ways, the spirit's determination to keep him alive anyway. He learned of the four items that could be joined to break the curse, mere trinkets, scattered to the four winds. He had a long search ahead of him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:12, Fri 07 May 2021.

Name:Marina Alvarez

Age:29

Gender:female

Height:5'9

Position in the City:Captain (previously)

Past: Sold to be a noble stranger's wife at 16 by her mother for a handful of coins and some peace and quiet. She was like his personal dress up doll, merely another trinket to show off. She soon became a bored young woman, acting out by taking on lovers from everywhere she could get, just to vex her husband. One lover in particular was the very assassin sent to kill her husband, and he succeeded. The assassin wasn't sent by her, but she benefited nonetheless. Taking the remainder of his fortunes, she bought a ship at the ripe age of 20.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Tue 13 Aug 2019.