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To Sail Amid The Seas Of Fate - Jorimel's Eldar Rp

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Jorimel, Jan 31, 2015.

  1. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    @Jorimel | @DaKaptin | @kanila

    Yareli was startled by Avrielle's behavior, but did welcome it, not stating anything of her obvious change. Somehow she always managed to fit in with anyone. Be it Serontine's group, the mixed individuals under Morvan back in their webway adventure and even now here. What did the young girl do what the Diplomat is not? Care not about embarrassment? Simply believe in all the good out there? The Noble sighed, somewhat in exasperation. Considering that she was the most approachable of her dynasty, she still compared not to Avrielle. Yet was such comparison necessary? Jealousy is not of her nature. She shook her head and then focused on Vytharion. "Avrielle is right. We should start anew. Since I struggle to find the balance between my noble teachings of being careful and trying to be far more relaxed and .... Well, more like a Corsair. But I cannot force from one moment to another to be someone I am not, especially if I do not understand the Path of the Outcast, not yet anyway." Yareli offered as a sincere apology. And most certain she was even hurt in her pride of having to go 'that low', even though it was ... Unusual, awkward, to not talk as a diplomat, not present a group or a faction but being yourself.

    Then Iktomi joined the crew. Still being of mixed feeling she simply smiled at him, holding her glass with both hands, waving with an index finger. She didn't want to appear overly possessive by storming to his side. But she didn't want to be dismissive either. Somehow all eyes felt as if they were on her. Not like usually back at her home, but more... Judgmental. It was mostly in her head or so she hoped and fought to relax against her tension. In attempt, the wine glass was almost emptied. Hearing the talk of Faenkon and the Artist, Yareli decided to stay quiet, hence she may say more 'wrong' things.

    But... Who was that woman at his side?
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  2. "I think it would be a supreme thing to find the Sword of Eldanesh. As you said, such an insight into craftsmanship would be unheralded. In spite of my respect for a select few of their species, they are universally backwards when it comes to rediscovery. They find an ancient artifact and it is merely lamented as a relic from the past, but we are better than them. We find the lost technologies and learn from them, something the mon'keigh seem to have lost millenia ago."

    He noted the newcomers with some interest, but it was clear he was engrossed in the conversation at hand. The idea of getting to work with such a relic, to see it at the head of an Eldar army, sweeping all the lesser races before them.
  3. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    "You are right, Amriel!" said Avrielle with more enthusiasm than she normally expressed. Granted that this was one of her subjects - technology - but she did seem brighter and somehow more galvanised than usual. Had the Corsair life got into the little radiotech's psyche so quickly?

    Llyr licked a paw and said nothing.

    "If we can find the sword then we must seize the opportunity. We are at a crossroads," she enthused, "and perhaps it will be more important than we can know. Or perhaps it will be one in a long line of acts that are needed before the changes come that the race needs. But either way," she said, sipping her wine, and smiling at Yareli, "what we do here is important."

    "Now as for planning - we have a location, we know something about it, but not that much - a lot of it I suspect we can only refine when we arrive. But we can at least work on how to deploy as a team ..." she did have a little more to say, but Avrielle, even when filled to the brim with infectious confidence, didn't have the practical experience to lay out the plan for the voyage and the quest itself. So she fell quiet, thinking, letting the others speak and tickling Llyr behind one ear.

    "Captain," she said as Iktomi arrived, "you have the skills for this! You are a man used to commanding and organising Eldar!" Whether or not it was true, the amber eyes fixed on his believed in the Felarch.



    [OOC: I want to move ahead soon, but I don't want to cut the conversation off and there are questions asked IC that require IC answers from players to players :) All good stuff so if you want to continue this, please put <before> in your post. For anything else, I will assume that it is after the GM post below :) ]


    As the Arcadia sped through the webway, the redoubtable Void Dreamer choosing the ways that offered the best chance for a smooth run, it was easy to forget that the vessel was in motion. The webway flashed past. The gate opened like the iris of a forgotten god, and the Corsair ship arrowed back into realspace.

    Guns ready, and looking for a fight that could come from any quarter, the Arcadia ghosted into the shadow of a nearby moon and moved in a graceful dance with its chosen partner. Iktomi had the helm. Orthelya sat to one side, sketching the view from the vis-screens as the trackless void opened out before them. Reevia consulted the charts. Many planets were in the area now poised on the edge of the region all avoided whenever they could - the Eye of Terror, the Well of Lost Souls. Many asteroids too, and lesser chunks of celestial debris like the homeless moon they now sheltered behind. Whatever planet had once held it near, it was now free to wander like a comet or be ensnared once more. It was greenish and dim.

    "... one of these," Reevia said, holding the ancient charts and multiple crystal-copied facsimiles around her with a combination of mental energy and rotating tables. "I just need to focus on which one, Captain, and then you'll have your target."

    "How shall we disembark?" Lysandriax asked. This was an interesting question. Especially since the away party had not yet been settled. And since there had been no mention of including Corsair Vael.



    @High_Adept_Zeth @Uriel1339 @MetalDog4 @kanila @Casavay @Nurianis @Colapse @DaKaptin
  4. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    @Jorimel | @DaKaptin

    Yareli went to her designated quarters after the gathering in the mess. Even though she still had mixed feelings of how it went. There she moved with purpose. Grabbing her musical instrument of a flute-variation and other little belongings, such as the little container for her choker. It was very light-weight and not bulky at all, fitting easily in one of her larger inside-robe-pockets. She wasn't sure whether she was actually ever going to return to this room... There were talks to have had with the captain. But at a later time, one more filled with a longer period of peace. Having drank just enough wine before reaching a certain point of lightheadedness she regretted perhaps to have a glass too much.

    Nonetheless she cleared her mind to her best capabilities and made for the bridge. This woman of Mymeara would be ready for whatever was to come. Once having reached the room, she took a place between Reevia and Iktomi, smiling at the dreamer but not going to distract her with small talk. The same counted for Iktomi. Instead she was going to wait and see how the events would unfold. Especially with the agenda of not trying to make the Arcadians react more suspiciously towards her trying to advise or lead, where they are used to Iktomi's decision making, or at least the Warlock Morvan, as delegate of the Seer Council of Lugganath. It would be a welcome change to rest on the passenger seat and tag along, not to discard either, last time she tried to be more in control it fired back at her and alienated her of this group in the first place.
  5. kanila kanila Subordinate

    Faenkon sat alone in his quarters, save the ever present drone. He enjoyed the solitude, especially on the eve of an important mission. It gave him the time he required to properly care for the gear that would see him returning home. He sat meticulously cleaning his rifle, ensuring every last part was painstakingly examined for defects. His arm sat on a stand nearby awaiting the same treatment. A calm flowed through him as he cleaned and prepared the instruments of war that would not only ensure his survival but that of his fellow adventurers. Last, but certainly not least, he would examine the drone. His companion deserved the same respect as all the rest. It was not a mere tool as the rest of his gear, but a member of the group, at least in his eyes anyway. Faenkon knew that when the time came to begin the next step in their journey he would be called upon and therefore did not rush in his task.
  6. High Adept Zeth High_Adept_Zeth Arkhona Vanguard

    <before>

    Conflict is the seed of progress.Conflict is something to be enjoyed and with that Iybraesil-bred idea ingrained in his mind he watched a heated argument between Yareli and the Corsair.She expected to be friends with anyone on the ship.

    That would be hardly the case.
    Morvan came to terms that the discussion at the table and Avrielle`s passion gave him a degree of satisfaction.He also had to come to terms that whenever Yareli engrossed herself deeper into the ploy they created, the deception of her closeness with Iadanna and the whole marriage thing...he felt severe discomfort in his gut.Something between panic and stress at the same time...but he refused to investigate futher.

    It was merely his strong sense of honesty that was speaking, that was all.


    "Now as for planning - we have a location, we know something about it, but not that much - a lot of it I suspect we can only refine when we arrive. But we can at least work on how to deploy as a team ..." she did have a little more to say, but Avrielle, even when filled to the brim with infectious confidence, didn't have the practical experience to lay out the plan for the voyage and the quest itself. So she fell quiet, thinking, letting the others speak and tickling Llyr behind one ear.

    "Captain," she said as Iktomi arrived, "you have the skills for this! You are a man used to commanding and organising Eldar!" Whether or not it was true, the amber eyes fixed on his believed in the Felarch.


    As Avrielle finally reached her limits, Morvan stood up shaking the comfortable inaction in which he basked and stood up by her side:

    "You are right and I admire your passion...but I have reserved this night for joy and camaraderie and I suggest that we do the same.Our quest is dangerous, more so then others we have taken and we may not return from it.Lets use our time together in this fine company and return to our duties on the morrow." spoke Morvan as he grabbed the half-full (empty?) bottle of delicious wine from the table.

    "I think I`ll retreat for the night."

    <current time of events>

    In the morning after completing some necessary morning preperations and rituals, Morvan walked to the bridge.It was a fresh day and he could not shy away from his duties any longer.Truth be told he felt that he was too lenient by taking an entire day, considering their current predicament and the weight of the quest they are upon, but he decided to settle the mater later.

    With his helmet under his right arm, bastard blade on his back and shuriken pistol on the belt, Morvan stode to the bridge with surety and confidence that came from the heavy burden of a Seer.Of a person that has perhaps seen too much.It was almost arrogant of him...yet he found it to be a healthy arrogance.One born of knowledge forbidden or one shied from.
    Upon entering the bridge he stood at the Captain`s right side - yet at the discreet distance lest he disturbs delicate balance of power and hierarchy that Corsairs have in their structure.After all...he is here in a form of a guest and Warlock did not want to overstay his welcome.

    That or disturb the bridge crew in their work.So he stood away from the command dais, observing the vis-creens of the void outside and the dynamic of the crew.Clasping his white helmet to his hip he crossed his hands across the chest as he drank in the incoming data - in silence observing the current situation where they find themselves as well as the weight of Iktomi`s authority and the command he enjoys.

    There was a lot to be learn!
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  7. Kaptin Primorkagorka DaKaptin Well-Known Member

    <before time skip>
    "My dear Lysandriax, please do not keep me on baited breath. As your host for the foreseeable future, I would be a poor one of I didn't at least amuse the idea of something worthy of my attention. What does this message pertain to?"
    Basking in the greetings and comradery of the crew. Taking the wine glasses with one skilled snatch of his free hand, and inviting any and all to join him at a large table. Seats were provided or otherwise taken to it to accommodate their numbers.
    "Avrielle!" Captain Iktomi yelled in joy and welcome. Make sure everyone saw that she was a friend and close to him. Nothing says guard with your life like a show of effection to a crew corsiars. "The plan is the same as it always was, we search for treasure at the coordinates we have and deal with anyone or anything that stands in our way. Please, sit and join me." Iktomi begins to poor the Dragon's Blood into the two glasses he possessed and beckoned for her to join.
    After serving drinks, Iktomi noticed a wallflower of unmistakable beauty. Rising to his feet and leaping to the open floor, The felarch pulled Yareli into an embrace. Not a friendly hug as he had the young radiotech, but as a loving dance parter would.
    "May I have this dance, my beloved?" Iktomi said quietly for only Yareli's ears. "Don't be jealous, our new member is a former sky serpent down on her luck. She doesn't hold a flame to you. There will be plenty of time for business later, but for now this stage is ours."
    And with that, Iktomi took The noble born diplomat by the hand and danced the night away.
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  8. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    "Wait, what?" Yareli noted surprised, even blushing slightly up. But her Eldarine reflexes complied with the Felarch, for he at the very least was a friend and to deny a dance would not be very... Friendly. Mixed feelings rushed to her mind when he implied she was jealous. Was she?

    "You are living such a strange way, my dear. And with you, I mean the entirety of the Arcadia. Free, yet bound. It seems so ... Enthralling and I certainly can see the benefits of living in this way. And I start to like it, once I can actually discern where the boundaries for certain things are. I believe Vytharion may dislike me now, for my implications of being a free Eldar, while proclaiming my ... Desire to be bound to you. Alas, speak with your feet and not your lips." She winked, having finally found the rhythm of the man who got hold of her. There was a short memory flash of Serontine's lovely gardens and forest, as well as the masked dancer. The one who has shown that sometimes one has to let go, and very rightfully so, she tried once more to dance without agenda nor discipline. But to embrace the dynamics of the moment.
  9. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    <some time before>

    Llyr tore through the corridors. He came to a junction, sniffing the sir, and leaped to the right, scrambling up the wall to perch on the open edge of a small ventilation duct. He paused. Sensitive whiskers bristled against the sides of the duct. It was going to be a tight fit, even for one of his stature. The diminutive gyrinx wriggled into the gap.

    He crawled along the duct, pausing to sniff the air now and then and once stopping to lick his shoulder. When he reached the next entrance, he stuck his nose out, scanning the corridor below. It was free of any other presence, so he leaped down, landing neatly on first his front paws, then the back. With a coiled spring charge he was off again, bolting down the new corridor so fast that two of the Arcadia's crew had to step back out of the way as the snow-coloured catbullet shot through.

    Dodging around the feet of a surprised Corsair, Llyr ducked under a passing loader platform hovering on its antigrav suspensors, and hopped over a packing crate. He boosted himself off the top of the next box and ran full tilt into the command room.

    He stopped. Tilting his head to one side, he sauntered past the Captain's seat and then rubbed his nose against the side. Then he jumped up into it and curled up comfortably, tucking his tail over one ear.
  10. Saraph Midas Casavay Well-Known Member

    <A bit earlier.>

    Plink.

    Kithaere frowned. She sat upon the floor of her quarters in a meditative position, feet upon her thighs, and stared at Snow's Voice. It'd been her intention to give her friend one last tuning before going to sleep today.

    Plink. Plink. Plink.

    The Maven kept plucking at one string with a single finger, immediately muting the ensuing sound before it could pollute her chambres fully. Something was wrong, and try as she might, no matter how much she tuned this one string, she couldn't exorcise the rebellion out of her musical companion. It wasn't off by much, and even the most brilliant human musician probably wouldn't hear it; the truth was that even the most brilliant Eldar musician would likely accept this instrument as perfectly tuned even in the byzantine and highly accurate musical system of their kind. Sheolis, however, was of course just better than anyone else at manipulating Snow's Voice, and something was wrong with it - she heard it, so it had to be true. And it drove her insane.

    Plink.

    She shoved around the bridge, tightened, and loosened the string again. Pli- She caught the string before the sound had begun to articulate. First, it was only two fingers, but eventually, her entire blue hand pressed down on the ivory strings of the azure construct. Hard enough to do a lot more damage to Voice than she'd ever let anyone else inflict, and to ruin the entire effort of tuning it. But she just couldn't stand to hear it again, the mockery. Sheolis was nervous. Her hand, and indeed entire body, was shaking with rage even she knew was unreasonable.

    With lungs empowered by her posture, she let out a brief, but liberating, cry of frustration, barely stopping short of hurling the tool of her trade into a corner (and admittedly, partially foiled by its weight).

    It was unsightly, unelegant, and absolute poison for her soul and relationship to Snow's Voice, but it had opened a vein for her frustration and anxiety to slowly bleed out like the ichor it was. The stereotype was a fast recovery, but the Iybraesilite only slowly calmed in a process that took hours. First, she stared at her companion angrily, but with time, her eyes and face fell and softened to form into regret.

    With an apology, she set to repair the damage she had done.

    <Present time>

    "Kith" knew she looked dishevelled by her own standards, her white mane without a single braid to it, her fluttering robes with noticably fewer layers to them (turning the silken hurricane into a seven on the Beaufort scale of fashion autonomy) and her usual presence of 'tower of arrogance' reduced to a cottage of confidence.

    Snow's Voice, on the other hand, was tuned and polished better than ever, and happily rested in its bag that she carried to the bridge. Sleep had been the price for mending their relationship, but the bonesinger had needed this in order to use the songs of creation ever again. And, anyway, she was also confident that whatever the crew was going to discuss, even if she'd be unable to follow, there was little counsel or expert opinion that she could offer right now. Unless they were going to need information on the finer points of wraithbone biology.

    There was no trace of cockiness on her face when Sheolis arrived on the bridge, greeting those already assembled with a curt "Salutations", and falling in line. She avoided looking at anyone directly, instead staring at the majesty that was the webway.

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