Fishy
2009-07-21, 06:03 AM
Welcome to the Spirit of Siberys IC thread, and Chapter One of...
The Face Of Terror!
The city of Stormreach! A shining jewel of civilization at the edge of the world, a festering hive of scum and villainy, a paradise for profiteers and a graveyard of fools, the city is, above all else, the last port to the Five Nations- and beyond, it would seem!
The Tranquil Visage, countless miles from her homeland, limps in to port like a fishwife's dottering grandmother. Her wooden frame creaks and complains with the smallest waves, her warped keel sends her constantly listing to starboard, and her bound elemental lurches her forward with an erratic stream of bubbles from her stern. Any Zilargo shipwright with any shame would hang himself before letting her set sail- if she had been built anywhere near Zilargo.
A motley crowd of spectators has gathered outside the Twelve-And-A-Half Bells, clutching coin purses, notes of credit, and tankards of ale, with the delight of small children watching a house burn to the ground- With the exception of one mariner with a face like ancient driftwood cast in iron. If the driftwood were still somehow bitter about the experience. "This means nothing. It were true what I told you, every word!"
The crowd ignores him, for the most part, holding their collective breath as the Visage putters towards the docks- the first Riedran vessel to survive the journey in years. Her Inspired crew, normally the picture of control and reserve, are all looking a bit green around the gills, and perhaps a bit overeager to lower the gangplank and divest their cargo of nuns and kittens. And it looks like they might, in fact. Just a few feet more...
Fffwooomp-k-KRAK-thunk!
Starting us off with a bang: Where are our heroes in or around the port, and how do they react to the sound of a muffled underwater explosion?
The Face Of Terror!
The city of Stormreach! A shining jewel of civilization at the edge of the world, a festering hive of scum and villainy, a paradise for profiteers and a graveyard of fools, the city is, above all else, the last port to the Five Nations- and beyond, it would seem!
The Tranquil Visage, countless miles from her homeland, limps in to port like a fishwife's dottering grandmother. Her wooden frame creaks and complains with the smallest waves, her warped keel sends her constantly listing to starboard, and her bound elemental lurches her forward with an erratic stream of bubbles from her stern. Any Zilargo shipwright with any shame would hang himself before letting her set sail- if she had been built anywhere near Zilargo.
A motley crowd of spectators has gathered outside the Twelve-And-A-Half Bells, clutching coin purses, notes of credit, and tankards of ale, with the delight of small children watching a house burn to the ground- With the exception of one mariner with a face like ancient driftwood cast in iron. If the driftwood were still somehow bitter about the experience. "This means nothing. It were true what I told you, every word!"
The crowd ignores him, for the most part, holding their collective breath as the Visage putters towards the docks- the first Riedran vessel to survive the journey in years. Her Inspired crew, normally the picture of control and reserve, are all looking a bit green around the gills, and perhaps a bit overeager to lower the gangplank and divest their cargo of nuns and kittens. And it looks like they might, in fact. Just a few feet more...
Fffwooomp-k-KRAK-thunk!
Starting us off with a bang: Where are our heroes in or around the port, and how do they react to the sound of a muffled underwater explosion?