#Goldbrand Captain

[captainkurosolaire]

Fallout

Dark gloomy clouds overtook the Sun. As a massive sea-vessel approached a designated port. Tension was felt from the air, humid, only briefest a glimpse of a reliving breeze. Underarm crutches stomped against bulwark, still covered in appendages and valley of injuries. But like what took place in the skies, a storm felt inevitable. It wasn’t wise to leave things uncheck. He heard of what transpired in his mending. Someone upon his own Crew saw to set him ablaze. That troubling fact was numb perhaps only due to his already extensive injuries. Being Leader he took the reins despite his conditioning because if he hadn’t there was going to be a mutiny. Also not solving or trying too, could lead to the culprit to attempt to execute someone else entirely this poison needed to be neutralized. He forced his consciousness open. Getting a head-tip from the Crew as he left his cabin room that everyone’s number one suspect was conveniently departing at this very time, he angrily pushed himself to the docks where the blonde-haired Midlander in his princely-appearance took pause in his leave. “Judas! Not yet matey. Isn’t going down like this, I need some answers. We all do.” His breathing was noticeably heaving, wheezing his lungs not entirely clear. The Midlander gave a frown of disappointment, it was a curious look that could have been attributed to the history of this man once turning his back on his own fond Captain. “Cut the bullshit, Cap’n, only here because you still don’t trust me. My sins and transgressions formerly, are right to assume that, I expect that. But I didn’t do it.” His brow’s and the way his eyelids lowered and features was concerning maybe, it wasn’t disappointment, but heartache.

The Seeker squinched up his visage and gave a sarcastic tone, “Geez, ye right, I don’t know if I can, I was at my lowest and that’s when you struck me, that guy who looked EXACTLY like you in the past, stabbed me in the back and then n’ my HEART. I’d like to think anything, anyone, is capable of change. I know it’s achievable. It’s why I saw to fight another chance to get this going again. You and me, cause when we’re on the same page, we can make magic. Upon my ventures on land, I've learned n' appreciation fer trust. There may b’ little out there more valuable in life... It's also the host ov' a saddening graveyard. Ye take trust granted, every-time, it almost certainly means death. Whether you, or what was." The sailor spoke with his chest. Experiencing too often people give up their lack of expectations just cause they didn't want to engage, be led to wasted time, or indulge in pain’s kiss. Seeing in that perspective he couldn't blame it. He was conditioned in a world of betrayal as something common-grounds, so he made it apparent for others to assume the worse about him early on by his presentation in his most unflattering self. Giving the decision to know the water's dangerous edge makes people frightful of the roaring tides. You can always reliably sell anyone on their own twisted truth, guaranteed unquestioning it.

Those bold who took the plunge against their fears often unlocked things they would've never attained otherwise, that eventually they wouldn't be able to see their life without. It was what he sought to represent to prevent others from becoming a slave of hopelessness. He would personally hide behind mask after mask showing that he had his knees buckle to despair. Playing fantasy that he was indomitable, a commendable warrior.

Stings of deceit weren't something he was immune to. He just braved that facade. It took chunks out of him, leading to such a fragmented soul, keeping and harboring that resentment, it meant unsafely; reason to hide an extra knife before slumber.

Puncturing eyes of Judas who manipulated and tricked his way for any opportunistic path, to get closer to his goal, once saw right through his scoundrel brethren. "Captain... I thought we were beyond this, dammit! If you took a second and THOUGHT instead of allowing your emotions to think for you. That is your worst design, always has been. I swear sometimes. You perceive yourself as someone who isn’t a strategist, cunning, smart and has always placed me so far above you that, can’t even see how incredible you can be, and what you’ve conquered alone! A lifetime worth of envy, there isn’t any shock of why someone saw to cut you down, shoot their deplorable shot. Understand this, AGAIN, — I vowed to provide wind against your back! – Thing is if you resist it, there's no sailing forward. MAYBE; I have never said it before, since I betrayed and caused that mutiny over what WAS a decade ago, but I'm sorry! Okay?! Does that really do anything to help?! Huh?! I don’t think ‘words’ have any value." Blood began to rush, tempers were igniting bottled issues, and just overall wounding in his verbal pitch. He had been aside Captain and offered all his advice, tribute himself to that contest and entrusted Captain in that brutal battleground. He even smacked off against his enemy, and yet was vilified and outnumbered.

The Seeker’s lips pursed and snickered not believing this instantaneously but gave silence with an emotional stare-down. Judas continued after a pause trying to contain himself in a pressure sigh, never evading the unyielding contact, composed, "...I have lived with that everyday! You have no clue what it did to me to hurt you..." Strongly using his hand’s to communicate pointing between them. The inflection in his tone came from nestled deep within a heart. There was something genuine, powerful, woe inducing.

Captain’s visage showed despondency, the people who are most important and closest felt a need to strike us the hardest. And maybe there was something that wasn't wrong about it, one bit to prevent us from going a wrong path. Just like how lies were ushered to children, youth, about monsters under the bed, to keep them safe, lies aren't always evil. What is often the most disgusting, against mankind, deemed cruel ways to perceive, could be yet again, the way to show an unbeatable level of care.

Between these two men was something close they shared undeniably. Always bubbling, never surfacing.

With an exhale Judas took note of the silence over this. "You know what Cap'n, it's alright, you don't want to trust me, can't... If we're done here, then it’s done. I shouldn't have ever burdened you with my own burden.." The Hyur who often did anything to get-ahead for his ambition, would've used anyone, sold out anybody to get back to his home. Gave up.

The Seeker couldn't believe what was unfolding in revelations. Under that intense moment, he recognized this man wasn't at all the culprit but framed deceptively. Finally snapping out of it, he noticed the Hyur retrieve his knapsack and was walking off the gangplank.

"Wait, where are ye going?" He attempted to chase hastily but fell on his crutches and plummeted trying to pursue. The crash heard Judas looking over shoulder, "Perhaps no one informed you, but Captain Sinbad collected his reward while you were out and chose his Three Crewmates. He picked myself, Casta our Surgeon, and even your own daughter, gave herself to volunteer, Klethera. – I'm getting a new start ahead, perhaps this is best. I'll lookout after them." Trying to cope and find a silver-lining there was just a broken man that shattered before the Captain.

While feeling that physically, and emotionally just drowned, unable to even give a cheeky response, or snark back, utter defeat. Laid with an unconstrained emotion, it was easier, accepting Judas did betray him again. Wasn’t something they didn’t overcome before, but now this meant, another on the Crew sought to dismantle Captain of anything associated with his dear life. The most potent betrayal was invisible. Strings tugging at you by an unknown, forcing you to strike against the wrong individuals, until you erased everything that meant a damn.

In one rushing moment a riptide reminded his losses. Incomprehensibly too much to handle at once, he fell in a vegetative state, lids and sight only witnessing boots of departure to someone, he never spoke and confessed his feelings. He felt exposed, out again in so many wounds, scar’s reopened, cut thousands of times left to bleed, trying to find out if there was an extra bone to make him sturdy to endure this pit and stand. This bloom zenith of life Captain nourished throughout last Summer who Captain rode highly, seemed destined for abscission.

🌊 ♫Could've Been♫ - Reference - Last Chapter

[shur-kha-ffxiv]

I like you / I hate you / I dislike you/ I love you / You are family / I would take a bullet for you / I would shoot you / I would lie to your face / I would say something cruel to you on purpose / I would say something cruel to you accidentally  / I would cheat on you / I would physically hurt you / You annoy me / You amuse me / I’d laugh at you / I’d laugh with you / I’d manipulate you / You scare me / You confuse me / I wish I knew you better / I trust you / I don’t trust you / I lost trust in you / You inspire me / I consider you an equal / You are beneath me / You’re better than me / I would trust you with my life / I think you’re mean / I think you’re petty / I think you’re childish / I think you’re smart / I think you’re stupid / I think you’re a bad person / I think you’re a good person / I’m not sure what kind of person you are / I wish you would listen to me / I want to make you proud / I wish you would notice me / I want to impress you / I would hurt other people for you / I’m not sure how to make you happy / I’m a bad influence on you / You deserve better than me / We make a great team / I’d have a one night stand with you / I’d have a relationship with you / I would marry you / I fantasize about our life together / I would trust you with my most treasured belonging / I would tell you my darkest secrets / You disgust me / You intimidate me / I hope I intimidate you / I’d hug you / I’d let you hug me  / I’m scared of losing you / I don’t think you like me / I want to be better for you / I respect you / I don’t respect you / I lost respect for you / You’re my mentor / You’re my friend / You’re my best friend / I have a crush on you / I could easily watch you die / I’d get drunk with you / I’d party with you / I’d comfort you / I’d prank you / I’d spike your drink / I’d act behind your back / I’d abandon you / I’d hurt you to get what I want / I would choose my happiness over yours / I would choose your happiness over mine / I despise how much I care for you / I need you / I’m dependent on you / I don’t know what I’d do without you / I’m scared of you leaving me / I’d give my life for you / You frustrate me / I’d call for you in a time of need / I would protect you / I’d visit you in hospital / I’d carry you if you were hurt / I’d feel guilty if I hurt you / I’d let you be near me when I am vulnerable / I’d ignore a phone call from you / I’d call you at 3am / I’d break you out of jail / I’d get angry at you / I would shout at you / You’re too loud / You’re too quiet / You’re too sensitive / You're too distant / You can’t take a joke / You embarrass me / I feel nothing for you / You’re reckless / You’re bossy / You bore me / I would ask your advice / I would blame you for something I did / I would cry in your arms / You have the power to hurt me more than anyone else /

----

"I..don't know what to think of you anymore. You hurt your crew and you hurt me. You put your goals over our safety and happiness. I wish to give you another chance, I just hope it doesn't get me burned."

@captainkurosolaire

[ollifree]

“nona” vicenta she/her dwarf [picrew]

even the captain calls her nona dear, so you best too. now come in so she can get a look at you.

cook on the queen’s heart. nona’s another crew member who continued sailing with micah after fearchar retired. don’t let her motherly nature fool you: she’s the one who taught micah how best to kill someone and how best to draw it out. mind you don’t harm any of the crew where she can see you.

jakob richter he/they half human half elf [picrew]

“smarmy bastard” “that’s ser smarmy bastard while we’re in port”

the ruler of a coastal town in the anderfels due to several legal technicalities of inheritance law and well-invested bribes. jakob remains in power through his ties to multiple criminal organizations. everyone on the queen’s heart hates him, including micah, but jakob’s good for gold and a hate fuck when micah needs either.

gorman goldbrand-cadash he/him dwarf [picrew]

operates out of bastion, a coastal town across an inlet from wycome. gorman put an end the tension of rivalries and uneasy truces with the cadash family by asking the simple question, “why don’t we marry one of them?” since it was his idea he had to go through with it.

though none can deny the combined power of the families, he and his husband run their respective ones separately. gorman occasionally sails with different raiding and smuggling vessels to seek out new jobs and alliances. he’s a familiar face on the queen’s heart.

[foulserpent]

ned has the most fleshed out history of any of my OCs. i typed it out over the past couple of days, theres some stufff missing but its over 2000 words as is.

here is neds life story prior to the oblviion crisis

ned was born in a village near falinesti’s summer rooting site. his father died before ned was born, and ned was raised by his mother and various farmhands in the community.

his mother was a farmer (though she had a shady past he was always peripherally aware of but never privy to), and they raised hogs and chickens for milk/meat/eggs and would be part of falenesti’s supply chain every year. niviiran also lived nearby, and the two were close friends throughout their childhood and adolescence.

“nasty ned” was in fact his birth name and a name he continued to use, though going by the latter part. he was never able to find out why his mother named him that. the name came in handy, given that ned is transgender and already had a fairly “masculine” name. he was recognized as a boy since he was around 10, but his mother was unable to afford the hormone replacement potions until his later teens.

when ned was 16, he started taking jobs at falenesti, mostly as a bouncer at its taverns. he had been a bit of a nervous child before that and to this day isnt sure why he chose that line of work, but it toughened him up considerably.

when he was about 20, his friend niviiran was being heavily pressured into marrying off to secure her family’s inherited silk business. niviiran saw this as the only chance to escape her emotionally abusive parents, and proposed the notion of entering into a (false) marriage with ned until she could get away. he agreed, both desiring to help his friend and hoping to benefit from niviiran’s far wealthier parents.

during this time, he had his first Actual intimate relationship, but it only lasted about a week. he had picked up a girlfriend at his job, but being emotionally immature and a bit of a dick, he thought that he did not need to inform her that he was TECHNICALLY married, since the marriage was fake and him and niv both did not mind. she left when he found out.

this marriage fell apart within a year, largely as a result of ned panicking and letting it slip while drunk at a gathering with niv’s family. this caused a huge commotion mostly directed at him (and was worsened by his continued panicking), and culminated in niviiran’s brother beating him and attempting to run him over with a horse as he fled. his leg was badly crushed and was saved by his mother.

though their marriage was fake, niviiran and ned had a real falling out as a result of this. both obviously felt bad for the harm to the other, but niv was very angry at ned for having let it slip and putting her in the position of having to run away from her controlling parents rather than leave freely. ned at the time was surprised and hurt that she was so mad, having taken her friendship for granted, and responded in kind. they separated angrily and did not see each other again after that point, and the way he treated niv is one of his first and biggest regrets.

after his leg was mostly healed, he decided he wanted to leave valenwood, at least for a while. he had developed some skill as a bodyguard, and managed to get himself hired to guard a merchant caravan that looped through valenwood, elsweyr, and cyrodiil. this was the time where he really came into his own in mercenary type fields, learning to use swords/shields/armor and how to hold his own against much larger foes. he also learned how to cook at this time, and had his first boyfriend. this relationship was not serious and did not last past ned’s contract with the caravan, but was significant and fondly remembered.

he chose not to continue as a caravan guard, and became interested in mercenary work instead. he joined up with cyrodiil’s fighters guild, and spent the next decade or so working for them. late in this period, he was subcontracted out to mainland morrowind on a longterm job as a hired guard. during this time, he met and began a relationship with yaksha gra-dralas, a morag tong agent. their relationship lasted about three years until ned’s contract ended. it was somewhat serious, but neither felt it was working out well enough to continue (and neds ass was too small). they went their separate ways, and ned returned to cyrodiil.

ned continued working for the fighters guild for an indeterminite amount of years, culminating in the events of oblivions fighters guild questline occurring. when ned was demoted for the death of the guildmaster’s son that he had nothing to do with, he decided that the guild was going to shit and that he was leaving. he resigned, and spent a few years hiring himself out independently as a mercenary or whatever else was paying.

eternally bad at settling, he became unsatisfied and decided to move again. he moved to vvardenfell, where he would live for the next 30 years or so. during this time, he joined their chapter of the fighters guild, took many odd jobs, and became more radicalized against the empire than he had already been (which was a lot).

notably, in the latter half of his time there, he met the disowned son of a hlaalu nobleman named ondryn. he and ondryn were assigned together on a longterm fighters guild job out in the wilderness, and began a relationship that would last a decade. it was ned’s longest relationship, and also the first one that he seriously considered the possibility of being permanent and settling with. he had loved all his partners before this, but ondryn was very special to him and brought out something much more serious in him.

it was this relationship that would also lead to ned’s involvement with daedric cults. ondryn was dissident against the tribunal and a follower of azura, boethiah, and mephala. this was just casual everyday worship, but the two joined an active sect of boethiah worshippers (at least partially trying to impress each other). ned had never been religiously motivated and believed that gods were not owed worship any more than anyone else, but was drawn to the “good daedra” for their seemingly mutually beneficial relationship with mortals.

ned was never the most devoted of boethiah’s sect, but through skill and luck he continuously proved himself worthy, and eventually was challenged to and won a tournament of 10 bloods. he was granted a title as champion of boethiah, and bestowed with the artifact goldbrand.

for a while, he proved himself worthy by continuing to maintain his position and defeat any challenger who came his way. but at one point, he was successfully kidnapped along with a fellow boethiah worshipper to be sacrificed to molag bal. he managed to free himself of his binds and escape, and came back with reinforcements to slaughter the rest of molag bal’s faithful, but it was too late for his friend.

this was the first decidedly traumatic incident of his life, and marked the beginning of a slow downturn of his life and his mental health. he was wracked with guilt at having left his friend to die, and was beginning to realize he wasnt really cut out for the whole champion of boethiah thing, rightfully fearing that he had lost favor for this weakness. in a stupid move (that would turn out smart in the long run in bargaining for his soul back), he kept goldbrand but fled with ondryn from the cult, ghosting boethiah and just hoping it wouldnt come back to bite him.

the blight was also worsening in vvardenfell at this point, with things beginning to get pretty scary. ned had repeatedly expressed desire for him and ondryn to flee vvardenfell, but the latter saw all this as just another crisis that would pass with time, and ned accepted this. around the time of the beginning of morrowind’s events, ondryn fell sick after an encounter with one of the ash creatures from red mountain. when it became obvious and undeniable that it was corprus, ondryn resigned himself to dying and asked of ned to help him be properly cremated and interred in his family tomb. all of ondryn’s living relatives had disowned him, but he still desired to be buried in his rightful place.

agreeing to this was the hardest thing ned had ever done. ondryn said goodbye and took poison, and ned was left alone to burn and lay his body to rest. he almost couldnt bring himself to do it, but eventually succeeded. after it was done, ned remained in the tomb for a few days, catatonic and just waiting to see if he would show symptoms himself. when it became clear that he had not contracted corprus, he considered suicide but became disgusted with himself and decided against it.

he remained in vvardenfell for a short while after this, but when his beloved guar (“jelly”) passed away of old age (mercifully peacefully), he decided enough was enough, and returned to cyrodiil. he had a couple of brief encounters with a person who he would later learn was the nerevarine, and left only weeks before the defeat of dagoth ur.

upon returning to cyrodiil, he was in a rut. he had become near-broke, had newly acquired mental health issues, had a constant fear of boethiah sending prospective champions after him, and had nothing to do with himself. he settled into the imperial city waterfront as a squatter, and attempted to join the thieves guild, but failed the initiation. desperate, he began thieving on his own, sometimes doing jobs for others and sometimes just to have money to get by.

he took a very large risk in agreeing to steal and imperial watch captain’s heirloom sword, and was captured in the act. he resisted arrest and injured the captain, and the captain personally intervened to get him a much steeper sentence than he otherwise would have. he was put into the imperial city prison for a few weeks, before being transferred to the arena and being put to work as a gladiator.

this was essentially a death sentence, with no determined ending besides dying in the arena. he met shap-mota here, a bard who had been blamed for a string of brutal assaults in spite of being pretty unquestionably Not the culprit. the two of them had an intimate relationship throughout this time, and struck up a friendship, but they were under a painful and unusual situation and it could not really be called a romantic relationship.

for a time, ned was managing well. he managed to get some serious dirt on one of the guard captains and effectively blackmail him. he wasnt able to secure his freedom, but was able to force his hand into giving him his sword (goldbrand) back and giving him and shap a bit more leeway as prisoners. having goldbrand is likely the only reason he survived and won all his death matches, but his uncooperativeness and humiliation of a few of the guards gave them a massive grudge.

after about 5 months, shap narrowly won a match, but had been gravely injured in the process and collapsed. ned last saw him being dragged out from the arena, and never saw anything that would indicate shap being alive, and had to assume he died. things got really bad after that, with ned having no buffer against the ire of the guards and other prisoners. he lost his blackmailing opportunity (though was allowed to keep goldbrand, due to the crowd loving his signature flaming sword) and was given absolutely terrible treatment from his captors.

he became incredibly disgusted with being forced to kill other prisoners and enraged at challengers who fought willingly. as he rose in the ranks, he was kept going by not knowing what else to do and by a grim satisfaction at murdering people who willingly chose to be combatants. this was very traumatizing.

ned achieved champion rank, though he almost lost his final match. his opponent disarmed him and instead of killing him, gloated and slashed at him with goldbrand, ripping his abdomen open and giving him his biggest scars. ned managed to take him by surprise and kill his opponent before passing out from shock and blood loss.

he woke up a day later to find he had been released. evidently, no one expected him to live that long and it was decided he might as well be let go. ned already had trauma to deal with, but was suddenly experiencing very unusual and new symptoms (which was ptsd and an anxiety disorder) that he had no idea what to do with. he was also convinced that his challenger was there on boethiah’s behalf, though he cant be sure of that, and the fear of being killed and left to the daedra who probably owned his soul took hold of him again.

he had been given some prize money, and he collected himself and left. he moved into kvatch, and rented an attic from some dunmer in exchange for proofreading his stupid “opus” about him killing all the cliff racers or whatever.

ned spent a few years in a haze, kind of just drifting through life, getting into shit here and there. there was an “incident” involving the towns blacksmith at the general store, and he was not arrested but was considered to owe a favor to the town’s watch captain due to the chaotic results that few dare to speak of.

this favor was finally cashed in when kvatch was burnt down by mehrune’s dagons invasion force and they needed someone to try and close the gate, and lo and behold here comes ned “owes a favor” nasty and some argonian from out of town who just kind of wandered in.

[libertineangel]

4, 5, 15 19

Thanks!

4) Mahmud's least favourite part of Cyrodiil is probably the Jerall Mountains, being from Hammerfell he's far from comfortable in cold mountains. Delam hates being in the Imperial City, it's a great place for spy work but constantly being in the literal shadow of the seat of the Empire is disgusting too him; Marius takes great umbrage with the arrogant pretensions of the largely wealthy residents of Skingrad though he's not above enjoying the fine goods made there.

5) Mahmud has a few friends - he gets on well with Baurus (though he finds his fervent Imperial loyalty a bit odd), he's a good Redguard swordsman that reminds him a bit of his younger self; he knew Castellan Athon of Battlehorn Castle from his mercenary days (in my head Athon used to be a fellow mercenary with a talent for organisation & logistics, he and Mahmud were friendly when they crossed paths but he suffered an injury fighting the Daedra, he started using a cane which made travelling with a company difficult so Mahmud offered him the job using his skills to manage the castle), and he's good friends with Sir Mazoga. Delam doesn't get close to anyone unless his work requires it, though he of course hides it he loathes all the Blades, and over time develops a begrudging pity for Martin. Before the Emperor's death Marius spent most of his time hanging out and living with the Black Diamond Collective, his fellow champagne socialist artist friends, and he still met up with them when he could, but trying to drop in and out of his old life was difficult while in the midst of the Crisis.

15) Mahmud adjusts fairly quickly, he was a little shocked the first couple of times but like he told Captain Matius, "a battlefield's a battlefield, in this world or any other". Delam was not aware of any effect but it did subconsciously influence him, as his exposure to Dagon's sphere grew so did his violent hate for the Empire and his drive to see it burn. Marius was mostly just horribly traumatized, it took until Bruma for him not to throw up with every first breath of Deadlands air, and from the day the Gate at Kvatch first opened he started having nightmares of cold iron towers, rivers of lava and bodies aflame on spikes; laying eyes on the Mysterium Xarxes burned unintelligible but distinctly terrifying symbols into his vision and touching it made his hands burn and bleed, and even decades later those effects could come back to him without warning.

19) Mahmud chose Meridia - the least hated Daedra among Redguards due to her disgust with necromancy, and a warrior has little use for a thief's ring. Delam, being a Boethiah adherent, won and sacrificed Goldbrand, as it's hardly the most discreet of weapons for a master of subterfuge to carry. Marius felt that Sanguine was the safest of all Daedra to deal with and so acquired his Rose, and was incredibly surprised to learn of Martin's familiarity with it.

[lunar-rose-academy]

How 2 RP - Part 1.5 (A little extra)

Hey everyone! Masao here~ Welcome to part 1.5, a little extra for you all, where i interview a experienced RPer, who shares their story, and give their own tips for RP. I thought it would be nice to hear from someone that has more experience then i do.

Today, we talk with:

@captainkurosolaire

​​A very good friend of mine who was actually one of my very first RP friends back in the days of Heavensward. Kuro was one of the first groups i joined, called Goldbrand. A pirate group that mostly focused on hunting Relics and the like. I learned a lot about RP from him, and made me really enjoy writing stories. He is also a very awesome dude and very humble. I hope our little interview helps you get motivated to RP, and to set that first step into the fantastic world of FFXIV!

My first question for Kuro was:

When you started RP, how did you start? Did you have a lot of help? Kuro: I started 6 years ago in XIV RP. I've been LARPing, I've built my own scuffed tabletop game with me and a bud, I've done WoW RP (Didn't click with me due to bad introduction to it.) As an only child, I've always had nothing but the highest of imagination's and I've always been tethered to create and build.I had tons of help. I wouldn't be here in the community without one of my ex's who drove me into it. I was a cuck. They shaped me and saw that, I was passionately nerdy about this stuff and always directed me towards this but, I was a shy bean and in a cocoon thought I’d fail or be a burden. After they parted with me for being naive and needing to harden me with heartbreak, I took a gamble for myself. Leaped in after a person named Sei took me in, I created Captain off just his glamour alone and then built off the tiny sketches with what I had in solo and overtime.Started from Gilgamesh, then went to Balmung. This was the era when Quicksands a majority of the time was filled with ERP and anything on the outskirts, were the more serious players and you had to go looking. I made a character fit and based around Quicksands and centered around the atmosphere. It felt fitting. So I went brash from being the most introvert by playing the most opposite to me. To not only challenge myself, but to force me to learn more. This overall was more productive of aiding in my conquest for building my Tabletop game, at first, it was mainly for that...Then eventually as my reputation was mainly ERP but somehow my F-list had some actual character-depth, I expanded and branched off. I was told by my Kahn'a my practical Yoshi P and lore guide. Some helpful hints and after that they practically set me up for transitioning out of just being a smut writer, even though I had a story behind each thing, I wanted to transition out. Then I met Verrine, Mishi, Thorcatte, Sun���ra, These people really put the ground-works into my story alongside Kahn'a, everywhere I turned, every person I met, they were inspirations, they were aiding me in RPing and feeling like this is my home, this is the land of the nerds and I owe them everything for letting me find this haven.Eventually another friend told me basically, why not just DM(Dungeon Master). Since I had contacts, I had the RP and creativity for it. They pointed me in that direction. Wasn't until I met my longest and really huge gratitude of an RPer in Ayla, who eventually inspired and led me into not only you. But bringing in many others who I eventually found as crew.I owe a tremendous amount to Ayla... Without a shadow of a doubt. Kahn'a too, but I could say literally, I owe everyone, four-hundred people in my head right now. From I've ever contacted or came into RP or even plotted none of their experiences have ever gone to waste. They each gave me a presence of passion. I transitioned off; led a huge DM group that was mainly done because you reached back out after I hit a downward spiral. After I left everything behind and ruined nearly all of it and lost my mojo.You rose me back like the phoenix, I eventually created a plot so massive that I could DM for like thirty individual people with the right support and people, did I fail in being a community leader or dealing with drama and involving everyone with my health and limited energy? You're damn straight. -- I failed utterly horrendously!  However -- It wasn't entirety wasn't in vain, people found their little groups and pockets in that, they met their meshes. Which objectively, that's all that matters as someone who organizes those to bring people together and in.After that... I transitioned into Tumblr more after being encouraged by people like Fair-Fae from afar, to Sei. Then worked on drumming to the beats given. To every person, even the ones that are angry emoji in the background-- I love em' their passion rubs into me and it breathes of air, gives me wings better than red-bull advertises! As someone who's dealing with an inoperable and bed-ridden rare disease, I've never been or felt more alive.I owe so much to people, and it's why I've stuck around for six years now and continue to batter up against the foul. This is why, I want to raise, boost, encourage, and rally others to be shared so they find in match-making their RP partners, and despite... I know my writing style hasn't ever been everyone's flavor, I never have ever thought of ever wanting someone not to find happiness. I couldn't give up RP at this stage. My next question would be, If you could give a tip to someone who just wanted to start to get into RP, what would you say to them? Kuro:  Know this. Getting into RP is a joke. It's really easy, you possess already every tool to be a tremendous RPer! Much better than I and I ever will be.

Short version: Just communicate. RP It's merely a Dance that can be positively enchanting, magical! -- I don't care what anyone says. ~ It's a partnership, you've got to find the people who keep up with pace and momentum, or blend with your style. You won't always find that and it's not a bad thing if that can't work. Some characters don't connect, some are opposite but they can still work. That's because it requires, one additional thing that requires: a pillar of effort. Don't let yourself be overwhelmed. Looking from the outside this game I've heard and seen, It's intimidatingly daunting. It's a lot to get into. Though this game? It's unoriginal. There isn't anything you can't create in this game, you have science, you've got alchemy, you've got magic. This game is literally called Fantasy in the title, this game has yanked and pulled off all the foundations of RL concepts, other fantasy tropes, religions, and renamed them and splashes over paint. You can do the same... Anything can be explained, I don't care what it is. People are fundamentally not grown as the exact same, I'm not personally here to be a clone trooper. Now If I want to play that, I can even do that respectively.* Look around the game visually, see if you think it can be done with the setting and place, build yourself something anything, you've got a whole box of legos don’t step on them. It’s proven constantly your creativity can be endless the more you play over time, or invest, put yourself out there. Go look into some guides, pull from a book, or google anything you’re thinking about. Again: People have styles they're different. You may appeal to being an NPC, you may like to be extended into Lore, you may not like all the fantasy, that's more than reasonable, it's all valid... There are people that feel you, they're waiting for YOU. Then you'll find people who are open-minded, you'll find people like me, I was in RP's with aliens, voidsents, normal people, WoL, like I've witnessed a lot. Listen to them, let them explain, and most often they fit. If you're too close-minded to accept then you don't need to worry you’ve already decided they’re not you, or your taste, leave them to their devices let them have their happiness, and go back to the scour. Don’t try harassing or bothering something that’s not there or ever will work. Wastes time and misery and drama isn’t worth unless it’s within stories, trust me. See for me... I’ve seen it all. People saying aetherfeeders and vampires didn't exist they cried on the forums and held a tantrum you had people say for years -- then boom RDM storyline and Stormblood came out debunked. Submarines weren’t things prior to SB despite we’ve got Garlean’s over here casually making Gundam’s. Their careers are over they played themselves -- this game is still continuing and always will if you're waiting for official confirmation from a -book- then you're going to be miserable, you're living off the backbone of a book meant to 'guide' and be resourceful in extension not to weaponize it and be a prick to people who don’t follow strictly the same ethic as you’ve so randomly chosen for yourself in standards, I hate to burst bubbles, but you’re never going to be 100% accurate, never ever. You didn’t create this game -- or it, therefore you can’t be anything but a replicator you’re just stuck either limiting your pieces or taking from an entire tub of building material. You aren't playing the book, you're playing the game. That's the real cannon, you literally visually see everything that's going to happen, you can bend it with predictions and logistical math. See XIV, they bend-over concepts of the real and made them fit or pried. I don't just bend lore… I bend it over. Why would there ever be anything that cannot be created? It's just how you interpret it, there are lazy ways to explain things, then there are thorough and detailed methods to get to the same realization of what you want to create that'll work and fit like puzzles to slots this story could’ve foretold. If done correctly more often then not XIV will follow suit in the same thing an expansion later if you stick to your wings, I’ve done it numerous times it feels like XIV has followed copied my test and then tried not to make it look obvious its because stories we’ve brazenly written together in deep-thinking. When my character is tagged IC that's it. Everything he witnesses or sees, I'm not refuting it. That's my chosen though, I see Quicksands and there's no way that place on my Balmung Shard and experiences is it clean, is it lead properly, or the official’s high representatives who totally are just fine with letting a Voidsent blow up the city-state. My character witnessed that, it’s set in stone. Though that's the option and you should always find what makes you comfortable, who makes you comfortable and consider that above all else. Often or not, everyone uses RP as an escape just as they play games. Don't sacrifice, don't lose yourself or not give self-love for what makes you passionate, don’t neglect yourself in taking control of being empowered and attaining friendships, fun, or treating yourself to something new to possibly take something lovely out of finding RP can be and make it all positive for yourself. Myself? I’m inspired by every person new and old who’s been in this game. I love it, do I bleed for it as my canvas? By the Twelve you know it! I’m only ever going to write stories and continue to build and grow, to learn. To do anything to give back. When a passion gives you life, you show that thankfulness by blazing that flame. My last question would be: Is there anything else you wanted to add or say to people? Kuro:  Nope. Rest boils to the decisions you pave yourself and if you want to take the plunge. Just know you're worthy, valid, and this place isn't and never will be one batch or selective, It’s not too late ever there’s no expiration to get into RP, there’s a reason RP last longer than the lifespan of the game’s even when they’ve hit the lowest of lows in dry content, there’s always been unity. If there's one thing this community does well it’s looking after one another.And If they fail to deliver. I know there are people like me who'd rather raise up then pound down.You got this, champs. And that was my interview with Kuro. Looking at his answers, there is a lot that i can agree with. The community of FFXIV is a very great one. If one person is down or needs help, the FFXIV community is the first one to jump up and help with what they can. Hence, its why i made this! To help you, reading this. Just remember, that there are always people out there that are willing to help you. And a person such as Kuro, and of course, myself, will do whatever we can to help those in need. Thank you all so much for the support, and i hope you all have a good day. Also! If you are a RPer, and you would like to be interviewed too, let me know! Send me a message over here on Tumblr, or add me on discord: Masao#2913. And feel free to ask anything related to RP, or even FFXIV. Hope you all are looking forward to the next one~

[aylamoenwyb]

Prompt#15: Plateau

How to write this letter.  There was no way she could face the Goldbrand Captain.  No.  It was her actions that led....Shaking her head no, trying to erase it.  She couldn’t.  If I had just not cared about silly fairy tales and romance.  Gotten on the damn boat, he’d be here...

Still, everyone was in danger now.  The ship’s engine room in ruins.  And Sol was gone.  Maybe even dead.  At the very least, the voidsent had claimed him for now and everyone needed to know.  After pacing her workshop over and over picking scales from her tail, she’d plop down on her work-stool, tapping her pen nervously against her journal before finally penning:  

Dear Captain Kuro Solaire of the Goldbrand,

Something terrible has happened.  I am at fault.   Sol was overtaken by Kahzoo.  His rune you helped with was purposefully broken by him.  I pushed him too far.  He was running from me.  He destroyed the engine room to his ship and on top of everything else it made me snap.  All that work, passion and care and he just destroyed it out of spite. 

He left everything to retake the ship’s helm for you in the Captain’s cabin.  Although I must tell you, without Kahzoo or the engine room rebuilt, I am not sure how you will get her back up and running.  I’m not even sure if my heart can handle currently setting foot in there to rebuild it for you.  Nor that you’d want me to.  Or to even be around.  I can hand over every note and blueprint and caculation I have on her heart.  

I am so terribly sorry my actions led towards your childhood friend snapping and deciding that letting a voidsent consume him was a better fate than loving me.  I will remain in my office for the next seven suns to give you and your crew time to sort this all out, but after that I might need to retreat from the world for a while.  Sol brought me out of my shell but without him around, and with everything that’s happened, I don’t trust people right now and need to retreat.  

If you see Sol it’s not him.  Be wary.  You’ll know I’m telling the truth because the brand is gone.  Again I am so sorry.  I wish I could make it right.  If there’s a punishment, I’ll bare whatever it is pirates do.  

I have his gun Silva.  I don’t know what to do with it.  

Sincerely, Elisa

PS: If Ayla would like the gil back I understand.  I don’t deserve it.  It’s still here in my shop, just send your people to collect it.  

Her letter written, she would place it in one of her delivery bots and send it out the window of her sea side apartment.  Its sensors seeking out the linkpearl signal of the Goldbrand Captain as her wrist-pad tracked it’s movement.  Assuring her at least when it was delivered.  

[brytedarklyt]

Captain of Goldbrand, Kuro Solaire.

@captainkurosolaire

[captainkurosolaire]

Cold Adversity

An expedition pair duo marched throughout a thickset forest, cutting through dense ivory vine's of verdant, one of the explorer's advanced before their partner. In that slivered-moment, a prowled predatory glare camouflaged amongst its terrain, a slithering flap of fork-tongue salivating, stalking gradually. The abandoned charter fell tripping, a stump root hidden in those lowly articles of vegetation cut-against was repaid by the disrespected nature. A struggling attempt to unbind commenced; before he-knew-it, his scream showered throughout jungle, echoing. A coiled-predator, starved Python of the native-lands, lashed. Elastic impressive mandible jaw, wallowing around the foot, devouring up towards the whole leg, cohesive poison's working to breakdown its prey for delicacy. Helplessness set in for the deplorable explorer who thought it owned anywhere it stepped. His arm's extending out to try retrieving the machete but fell distances away. Pleaded, frantically crying, it made him only easier to swallow - by designee, whole. Inevitable crept-in, no hope to be sought... Then suddenly an arm-extended out for fellow-man, pulling against the Man-Eater, a viscous tug-war ensued, his partner involuntary acted; even before emotion's formed, adhering to sheer intuition senses beyond the fifth. Climatic showdown results were destined for a scene identical, between two Death-Dealers. Killer Queen overseeing an ill-fated woman, given a clock saw again the certainty everything was dealt expiration. "I'm afraid the poison's reached her throat, it's plausible your employer Sun Shadow, may have a treatment. But you'll never make it." The effected-assassin with an unlikely flower on his garb surely must remember darkness. If untrained, wasn't disciplined to point the nerves in his face still worked, perhaps he'd frown, express sorrow, panic. Again a faint-taunt came from the Lethal-Adder with slight emotion, showing only when a Black Miracle was at their demise. Suddenly a stern-leather mandible claw, pushed at the skull still controlling the Venomous Shadow's life until he decided-otherwise, there was still life. Towards his own-displayed treacherous weapon that caused this. Hoku wasn't convinced there wasn't a salve. Steel-exposure saw him put his prey's forehead against the venom's own blade, slicing open a wound. Hydo believed the Miqo'te was attempting to torture him for information. Letting out creek evil laughter. Attempting to hide a deceitful grimace. He knew an answer. Shockingly, Hoku self-sacrificed himself on pure unexplained notion cutting himself purposefully too. "..F-fool!" Managed to bellow from the Adder. "Let's see if the poison takes root. Or you decide who hangs at your whim. I wonder, would you wield a dangerous blade despite knowing if turned against you, it'd be fatal?" Observing keenly their hand's where the poison took supposed root. Greenish-complexion would happen if-so. Stricken identical times. Fear registered in the nefarious-poisonous snake; he felt heartbeat again, seen-through his darkness-domain. That frightening-steel composure, emotions-fear, panic, all that should've set in! As most, but not this star-eyed killer. "Looks like you lose Inevitable." Both their-hands revealed truth. Hoku's poison came to pass, but Hydo's didn't. Coldly followed, withdrawing his sheathed-steel followed from his advisory as if he pulled a chosen-blade from rock, artistically brutally Geyser of red rocketed over his afflicted wound, the venomous one, blood was anti-venom. Taking the discover treatment to client's wound for mending. Shaman's symptom's dissolved, weakly her obscured vision and conscious came for a breathe, seeing multiple images of him and the flower still untainted, six-bells remaining before contract fulfilled. "Such a dark-shrouded man, coveting a world of night. Y-yet bright golden-stars for eyes. Akin to these skies, beautiful..." She befell to rest and smile. These two were gradually encountering harmony, in another.

[Prev:Chapter]: Manhunt ~ ♪"Unforgivable"♪

[captainkurosolaire]

Your Devoted Page

Dear, Casta

Should upon when this reaches you, my beloved hearty. It's within my deepest crestfallen, I've failed t' keep your original journal held intact. Found out th' traitor upon our vessel was no other than, Sol. I should've foresaw his dark-nimbus; now I'm left missing another brother and a broken-family, scattered across th' realm. As you're aware perhaps, choosing to document our Crew's journey alongside, mine. I recall when you said I was your protagonist and explained to me their unique-powers in stories. ...Remember? Me running out the next 'morrow, and getting n' a dastardly tavern brawl t' my near-death, thinking plot-armor made me invincible? Earning Judas's ire for both ov' us, yet we laughed in joy, sharing a memory-made. ...See, I know you think, you b' just ordinary, times may feel you're an outcast upon these voyages, especially amongst th' company ov' this Wild Crew I strung along. Though again... strength you usher, you mend n' stitch others, you've Captaineered these sentiments. If weren't fer you, I'd surely b' wrecking havoc monstrously, cruel to its favor. Hardest thing fer me, was leaving th' Land behind, those who've I grown knowing upon my time, stranded, forming around them. Unlike n' this expansive-tumbling tides ov' sea life... It's different. We're molded by nature required by daily survival, we become grizzly, beastly, our teeth, claws, reinforced. 'Till tyme for our placed feet to own anywhere, we conquer taking our lessons ov' seas, skies, desert, and utilize devouring moments. Claiming what's denied. Ov' Bold n' Free, we are. However in yer company, stead, I've a rare opportunity t' take those lovers of land, with me. You're a messaged-bottle; a reminder, keeping th' rabidness from taking-hold. My humanity cannot b' extinguished with you. I've saw to restoring th' journal to forged identical perfection with extra-upgrades fer th' problems, this page is dedicated as yours, alone. You-mean th' heart to me. Additionally I've noticed there's many stories, untold... So I've seized liberty to give you my Stories of Origination, following Passages of One. We've lots of similarities you may-find in revelations... My failures, sins, bringing... May this Dawn have confession, may we find closure in unity, we'll breathe together our flaws, leaving only our marvels! Against these anchored weights only recently, you Crew of Gold, have begun helping relieve and restore t' myself of what I may become... When reunited next, I'll have spoil knowledge, setting out learning who my Mother was n' pursuit and hope searching for my discovery along the missing final answers. Then becoming Th' Captain who shall sail th' Fates themselves and ferry destination ov' all your worldly dreams. Formerly t' my treasured, Yours fondly, - Captain Kuro Solaire

[Prev:Chapter]: Ill-Fated, Sadness - ♪"Past-Lives"♪

[captainkurosolaire]

Ill-Fated, Sadness

Disheartening rainfall plunged from weeping skies, promising to be herald historically catastrophic, neighboring farms and abodes were spared no expense of ire. Flooding purest sorrow and mourning it sought to soil upon mortal-lands. Summers passed, a couple of Shadow to Dawn, would have their ultimate harrowing, a wicked test of their characters, love, trialed against fate's sheer remorselessness. Once formerly an expressionless, hollow man, now a dark-clad, husband returned home. Only to find his other-half in a ball between knees, tears-streaming, heavier than rain outdoors, pattering below rivers. Only she unsheathed his cruelty; restoring senses to identity. His blackened-gloves reached out into her unusual visit to darkness and searched answer, "Hey. What's wrong?" Those palms brought the end of many, but maneuvered, so caring. Encouraging to share wielding this pain, not alone. Hoisting gradually, her-features; read, <Please, Forgive Me...> continuing a downpour, "I'm a failure, accursed, flawed." the assassin felt sensations of fury. Whoever is causing these... They'll perish. Outside in the back-drop, thunder-struck with blasting-boom! As Rokeia finally confessed, "I cannot conceive." Twisted-fates would do this? She spent her life, in Shamanism restoring infertile, curing others, relieving spirits from lesser to greater. She wanted to have a child with her lover; trying until she finally discovered a plight. For all he did is know death. After their contract, that saw them entangled, caring for a pathetic-lowly, flower, a Sakurasou. There wasn't doubt, he'd be a perfect father of unbridled security. It may bring him full peace. Across oppositions, he was a devoid-husk being, heartless, a genuine-star-eyed killer. But to moments of heart, a firm-digit reached out lifting her chin. "Together." Plainly said, "...We'll solve anything together. Scour this realm for a solution. No dark is immune to light, you're proof." Suddenly her downtrodden-state was annihilated. The Black Miracle once again; instilling hope. Taking two-fingers, intersecting his lips to create a goof-smile to expressively say; she wasn't alone. This isn't a lone-burden. Clouds she knew, ceased; composure returned. Couple were orbits, necessary for another's survival. Features-loosened up with beautified determination, "You're right! I won't give-in. But... Honey, you need to stay, to East. You've obligations. So I'll journey, traverse all-over. I believe Pirate's are renowned for this... Let me go find our treasure. Then, we'll be arms, with a precious other existence. Our littlest-balance maker of joy! I'm certain they'll bring others too." They'd temporarily sacrifice distance of another for a moment, but they're of essence. Sharing agreement, he personally extended search and become an infamous Slayer of Legends to silent-dwellers of night. Deemed enemies would be erased... slaughter before his appointed-skies. His accolades brought to creating a dynasty. Facing a hundred-other dangerous killers and dismantling their Black-Stars of Weaponry. Rozan the 100 Stars. Was forged, The Last Black Miracle. Her storied-events pushed motion. A woman-of-scouring was born, a Pirate... Of remarkable left recorded to faded-passages. Noble-intentions to retrieve something sacred! Self-Restoration and cultivate precious, Life. She'd free a Founding Captain of the Goldbrand from execution whose Friendship, was integral of future coming-eras. Her gifts made them accelerate in wealth, but wasn't priority. Navigation she pioneered, was ahead-of-its-time. Due to treasure-sought. Embarking mythical adventures, saw her owning an unusual-ship that could traverse even dimensions! Death's Door... Would these lovers be successful in making happy-ever-after? The paired in hardship said to Fate... You won't win. Together. Us. We'll... Rebel! Fight! Sacrifice! Claim! For Our Future. Importantly, theirs...

[Prev:Chapter]: Sublunary Love ~ ♪"Stay"♪

[captainkurosolaire]

Blooming Effect

Colorfully ornamented pinwheel's delicately in youth's spring hands whirled while they giggled amongst themselves, crackling skies of prismatic firework's of festivities lit up alongside drifting stars celebrating a new leaf. An elegant vibrant dragon's dancing ran parading throughout the Far-East chasing away evil spirit's and encourage prosperity, fortune. Even in conflict's of grim. A seasoned-shadow with minor scrapes moved throughout crowds undetected. An oddity challenging flower still remained in his possession for until Sunrise. When his ordeal, would be over. Yet every petal remained in-tact, the flower mysteriously didn't wither. In moment's the assassin, researched it like a father's obligation. She who wasn't even named. It-was-as-if, his existence was buried, a nameless headstone grave, this flower was a respect to the dead; of him, and the yard's he created. Sensation's crept up, protecting this small-precious, insignificant thing. Was this power in valuing life? His saunter pace furthered, feeling followed. Someone peered through darkness and located him skillfully. Taking an alley-way away from crowds. Pursuit came to a stop, as heel's cackling behind him paused at the entry, noticing the shadow disappeared. Thinking he caught the chaser off-guard, only for a scatter of high-puncturing thick steel-needles to launch from a conditioned, polished hand. He rapidly deflected with a blinding speed swish of his sheathed-blade, one-stray needle, requiring him to physically punch in a timely-stoppage, blocking for the safety of that flower, nestled closer to his heart. A completed lolipop's stick fell from filled purse-lips, "Sharp, Lion, oh how you've always penetrated my deepest senses." Sultry came out playfully from a She-Devil. Palpable energy unveiled rising, flashing an uncanny smirk, she cut the distance and kicked his blade in disarming, the stiletto heel's she wore were instrumental-weapons equivalently. Razor-nail's feminine grazed his neck, easy for rupturing. Her disarm wasn't entirely success, his feline tail, latched by the hilt his blade and transferred it to an open-palm to wield, both them stalemated. Purring before his feline ear, "I do enjoy being a breathe away at the crescendo with you." She'd wink before leaping backwards. This energetic, assassin perhaps, was at an equal-level or above, without sacrificing an ounce of identity. Her method was more aligned with infamous, Kunoichi's, ensnaring with their feminine-charm, before burying their teeth to prey. The stone-face spent no amusement, "How do you come, Killer Queen?" Only knowing another by many title's placed in their settings. Alongside one mutual-mission they met previously-in. "Buy me dinner, I could be ever-willing to demonstrate." Furthering teases, despite his steel-exposure was immovable. Clearly, she wasn't out to spew his blood. Taking a turn and began withdrawing, wasn't worth sticking around, entertaining whatever she was scheming. Brow's of dismay and playfulness frowned, "Alright! Get-back, I'm returning a favor. I was running an investigation on your own Don." Upon hearing callous hands returned with killing-intent, was likely they'd be fighting after-all... For now still held allegiances. Before he struck, she continued. Violet-highlight strands with darker roots, she brushed aside and began using a trimmer on her nails. "Overheard them mention you in-fact, you're compromised to them." Now his attention and posture staggered, realizing the severity. "They know your mission-failed, she's marked. Dead any moment by another Black Miracle." He said no response, and began suddenly taking-off, climbing acrobatically on rooftops above the Eastern city-walls. <My didn't expect that response.... Seems you're compromised indeed.> The informant thought before following his movements, running alongside gingerly. "Could of led with this." He said simplistically. Expressing her sympathy became mournful, respecting, "You'll not find her in time..." Being realistic.

Stopping in tracks holding his head down, seemingly accepting it's a lost cause... Retrieval came for the flower nestled still containing his client's scent and aura. Using an advanced-technique, like sonar detection, or wavelength's of that flower's essence permeated throughout the city using his own aether to extend the range and lock onto identical unseen waves until finding the center point, where similarities meet. Boot's resumed on a race against the clock, lethally ticking.

[Prev:Chapter]: Mother of Light ~ ♪"Secret Place"♪

[captainkurosolaire]

Code Red

Squirmed digits adorning a tattered-grim-soaked sanguine cloth, crimson dripping from the utterly defeated and shaken Captain suffering from his darkest day fore now.

Feline ears rang sharply, sweat and tears with blood’s inclusion more thicker mixed into combination upon forehead nestle, stowed away on his retreating sea-vessel on the run from pursuing savages that have declared annihilation, turned his life and the association of anyone in his orbit as nothing more than a playful murderous game, his palms further proved, stained with the deepest red from an irreplaceable life dismembered and packaged.

A fresh pectoral mark of slavery left branded on flesh burned as a reminder only quelled by a psychological breakage unraveling, awaiting to determine his humaneness. Every instinct flaring up to retaliate, blood for blood and overall translation; freedom, but doing so meant every progression ever made, all the enjoyment of every sight of color that he relished to treasure in this realm, his world, would become an unholy sight of only ever crimson red going forth.

His leg’s trembling still in horrified fear after confronting the worst. Thinking he could rescue his abducted Crewmates safely, stealthily slip through the barriers of a Nation bred on sinking their teeth in all.

Two pairs of silhouettes outside his cabin’s door and drew inside, a roughed up, latterly beaten and bruised, a tortured Judas who had shown signs of haggard too, donning a old tunic and overgrown mangled hair from his captivity. Only person, Captain managed to get out of there from his Crew alive. Alongside Sinbad the Young, who caused these events to take place, attempting to swindle out a dangerous Crew from their believed, owes.  

All of these three fellows, branded in connection, tracked and given an expiration date with their runic markings that almost were identical to a curse, approximately one summer, to slay their common handler.

...Yet that foe was practically inconceivable to even bring to thought their demise. An unmatched Giant, the proclaimed, All-Father of Scourges, YORE of the Gorey Seas was what they’d have to defeat.

There laid many mythos, legends, pirate omens and warnings everyone was to know better to kneel. Infamously said to have collected a bounty so massive, and lethal that due to having so many casualties was removed for the safety of adventurists or self-acclaimed Warriors, having themselves gruesomely humbled, brutally slaughtered and displayed with their decapitated heads piked, trophies all over the border of his Nation of warning and unmatched display of dominance. The outer-banks of the Isle, laid an unfiltered section of gory red, murky, cadavers left rotting and floating to further cause deterrence; practically an Isle bleeding.

It's foretold, with all the perfections and flawlessness that spawned from mortals to their believed Kami’s, Twelves, lowly Primals, they worshiped so dearly, that in order for this realm to continue to coexist with its consistent ideology of balance in all outlets from astral to umbral, forces of positive and negative, that polarity conditions must be managed, unequal force was needed to be curated carrying the most impurities, sins, ugliness into a Necessity all gathered, a giant amalgamation formed ripping through his progenitress's womb gruesomely upon conception.

His carnage and terror garnered throughout seas to such an extent, exiled fierce tribal members from Dorthals and "deemed" almighty races, deemed exclusive to only superior touted for their overwhelming ferocity, which drew in the interest to gather in a force of an Era, built to conquer unequivocally. Forming their own language, culture, walk.

Early members of their Nation, OMONGA, in mere youth and meek, primitive naturally raised and survivalist, were thrown in tribunal arena, left to fend against a selected savage wild beast dependent by their Blind Prophet who unveiled visions, these migrated or native creatures were riled up to purposely be enraged, given dangerous experimental, chemical enhancements and abused, to make their Tribunal Predator as lethally fearsome as possible. If they managed to survive and slay, they would then have their aetherial compounds and aspect, become ritualistically Imprinted, following and mimicking the prowess of their selected savage carrying on and embodying their trophy hunt in their putrid forms molded. Brandish to carry the legacy of ruthless designs.

From Captain’s very adolescence in the Goldbrand his surrogate Father and Founding Captain, told both Sol and Kuro, countless and endlessly, reality. That unbelievable power lurked. Tread ever watchfully while the promise of golden Freedom had boundless fortune to attain, there's steep costs, prices of Blood came before, lines that couldn’t be sailed, waves that should-not-ever be challenged.

Shallow waters too massive for them to ever think feet could contend against.

Upon Captain's encounter confronting YORE that led to this pitiful state he was paralyzed in. That-Which-Stood-The-Tallest; mercilessly, callously, revealed, The Goldbrand was created by that very monster, a sub-crew composed of slaves, who only were made to collect treasure for servitude and borrowed prosperity; hence the namesake...

Entire time, the sail he casually followed believing his Founder’s invention and groomed beliefs instilled, carrying prideful merit, was no more than inheriting the mantle of awaiting Scarlet Destined slavery a facade existence he bore.

Leashed prey tasked to find shiny objects like collected unwanted mutts and dispose in moments of desire for that is the truth of all things. The mightiest biggest reaped and ensured their bellies fed plump. Revelations unfolded these Predators of YORE’s Elite thrived in a Crew identically dubbed, the Bloodbrand coexisted.

A fuming, huffing puffing Highlander couldn’t believe the distraught or unpleasant sight of a once bold Captain finally confronted with the very first time he could say, Kuro was truly afraid. From witnessing countless deaths, otherworldly sights, to acquiring scars of incredible marvel proportions, to challenging inside the realms of the Void and bleak, obscurity to often drowning in the Presences of higher deities, or uncertain depths, none, none of them held a seemingly notion of fret from the brazen Seeker who paraded around with a feverish recklessness abandoned, but everyone, and all. Has a predator out there that's a designated devour, a force stronger that instinctively alone makes their rattling bones quiver to petrified liquid. 

Truthfully Sinbad's inner-issues were self-reflected, masked as fellow billowing rage, for his own self-blame for causing this situation, but couldn’t take accountability due to atrocious Pride. His Crew were all eradicated of his own Captaineering while he licked and nursed his wounds helplessly and barked through tinted-ego, drunk on his fleeting moment of success he became drunk despite once heralding his straight-edge lifestyle. However consequences have been delivered, his loved-fiance suffered mutilation from being captive, only rescued from Solaire’s daring rescue.

Branded despite all that over showing muscularity being painfully useless, shown unrivaled, MIGHT unlike his facade brawn. Forbidden, cursed, from ever hearing his heart speak fluently with her severed tongue. His entire manly existence is barred ever transparently, everything he gloated, herald over the Seeker now was his own fated string.

Chewing inward on his cheek, “Well? Going to pack up here, sulk and wait to get butchered? We takin’ this on the chin? Without giving our own, huh?! Nah, fuck that. I refuse! They TOOK FROM US! They’re OWED to have everything ripped whether I have you two join me or not, I don’t give a soddin' damn, I'll ignite my remaining flesh just to make them taste hell incarnate.” Captain continued mute, rolled into like a ball; defeated. Muttering to himself with lunacy. Cradling tighter to his chest the severed appendage head of the fallen. 

“Can nothing get through to him?! Pick yourself up, stand up for fucksake.” Intolerantly getting more aggressive the bulky Highlander showing temper these two were the only people who commonly could fight. Any moment now their ship would be raided by their pursuers, they were given a head start, with playfulness and pity by their captors, wanting to have a thrilling hunt, to get them rushing, none of OMONGA cared for anything but the sheer thirst battle offered or an opportune war, blood, this was their orgasmic greed they sated.

The once Princely First demeanor shielded his Captain, “Lay off! Reminder, this would’ve never happened if not for you! YOU caused this. You’re looking to project the last ounce of ‘esteemed’ manhood you may have, but it’s so blatantly obvious, you’re in shambles too. Stop the farce, end your festering ego. …Or do you need a reminder? If it wasn't for Captain and his perished one, we would’ve never gotten this far. We’ve got five alive on this ship, three were their recently jailed slav-” Lashing the Brute, grappled Judas by his collar and uprooted him from the floor and tossed him with anger against the wall, his temper and nostrils flaring and breathing heavily, the outburst was fleeting but he couldn’t look at Judas forwardly. His cheeks left wet streaks of hard knowing… It was correct. He lowered the Midlander onto his soles with a gentler approach, “...I-I’m sorry.” Another showing of fear displayed.

Was beyond extraordinary to see how Judas handled himself compared to the other two, forcing himself to be level-headed and prevent sink in any discomfort, always a master and manipulator of his own emotions. Despite being perhaps the one who was titled the Cowardice Prince. He comprehended the gravity of everything.

The First-Mate exhaled, “You’re right about something, we have to fight if we wish to survive. Even if we cannot beat all their numbers, we’ll at-least dent them, I’m not against drawing whatever vitality I may have. So I’ll join you, Sinbad. We can start by fortifying and making preparations. I advise rushing to set whatever advantages we can and have others hide in the brigs and wait to escape in the chaos through the cannon-windows creases, being divergence could be a solid honorable way to die. If anything Captain, if you can hear me, take the emergency rowboat with them, I can’t thank you enough for coming back for me and Casta. Told you, I’d be that wind.” Last words, laid out in heartfelt and a jolly smile, echo the memory of that handshake they exchanged, remaining light before taking haste.

Captain left as it started, alone in darkness.

Sleep-deprived, eyelids closed momentarily, deeply, a decision was begged for answering.

[Prev:Chapter]: ( --- X --- ) ~ ♪"And The Sky Turned Black..."♪

[captainkurosolaire]

X5 ~ Prelude to Destiny

[Prev:C] Sunbreak Treachery ~ Scarlet Destiny ~ ♪"Good Guy"♪

Surging water rushed down stream and woodland insects began hissing. A process of wild nature was coiling, a serpent slithering up an evergreen, where chirping birds held host, were being nurtured by their dearest mother of plucked worms being divided kindly, a few newborn eggs left to hatch. A predator serpent salivates a most-scrumptious treat, practically anticipating its course-meal, down those impressive elastic-like mandibles. Camouflaging alongside bark on the unexpected-prey. Its winding patterned-tail curling in support with a sturdy bough. Preparing itself to lunge when their grown-guardian drew close among the edge of the abode nest. One-strike all it’d take. Drooling venom-leaked against its fangs.

The Primeval Law; weak was fed to strong. All abide even if they’ve yet to encounter their devourer. Lonely and with a trouble-soul on a nearby bench gave a daring-stare to this process. Words reciting back in harmful-memory from his own pit-betrayal consistent snakes on his Crew or swimming in believed friendly-waters, hiding deceitfully. Recently departing a treacherous brother consumed by envy, he left them to their own-fate to a volunteering infirmary after their emotional-battle. Far as their long-history was concerned, this was the conclusion.

Again. Left with no-one, nothing. Giving a castaway didn’t mean his Crew would care or remember him after the Summer-break that was agreed-upon. Everything built-up to be demolished again, perhaps in the end, that’s all his purpose served. Fleeting reprieve or an experience to parade; merely a tale. Constant-cycle, that no-matter how many times, attempted to evolve past being simply defined, he always fell-short where it mattered. Teeth-grit angrily with rebelliousness, this was his shade. Always resisting what’s supposed to be assumed, standard, natural. Traitor’s venom from Sol, sept into his veins, and momentarily obscured reflection, <”You’ll become no-better than me, blight akin to myself. All that preaching of goodness, light you bring… Those accursed eyes… Constantly shining against darkness will collapse, you’ll be confronted with the forces we ran to maintain freedom. That we both know, are impossible to overcome. Irrefutable tides, power-beyond-power, none can oppose and it’ll come for your sanctuary. When it DOES, you’ll become at the forefront butchering to survive; thrive, or die empty as nothing.” Winning against their grueling contest, but it didn’t feel like that at-all. He lost a practical considered-brother, a friend, someone trusted. So many wounds overtook and festered. Couldn’t help but wonder if there was painstaking truth in this omen. Not-the-first time something demonic, prophecies his foretelling of the future. That stalking-serpent about to gobble up, let out a hiss before lunging at the motherling, feline-ears quivered, before a bellowing shout, raged forth his own tatted-scarred arm maneuvered like serpent itself grappling the snake in tracks. Poisoned-dipped-fangs close to the motherly bird who collapsed in frightening fear. Wanting to strike at the interrupting-handler, but expertly strangled in prevention. He was its predator, the traumatizing snakes surrounding his story-past made feline instincts-flare. Vengeful frustration wanting to keep squeezing, serpent with a vicious-grip back that often choked-prey’s life out of them. Taking his own wrathful-distraught on something, anything to remove-feeling. Facially-feature’s intimidatingly surfaced, before roaring and snarling stood against the snake, making its resisting force act cowardly; skin shedding early in fear, wanting to slip away to escape desperately; preservation crying. Knowing the serpent was now in-peril. Clutched callous-grip stayed viciously snug until suddenly, the conflicted-soul, dropping below on his knees freeing the creature with mercy, as it slithered recoiling into hedges onward, it’d find meal elsewhere.  Balled-fist kept pounding against the soils beneath, until this boiling-fury was vanquished and knuckles busted open. Resisting urges to become another vile-design; proving them right. Thought crept-in. Opposing so many oppressive forces, notions, order, acted on his own principles, but never saw any succession. No reward in this road of kindness. Nay treasures, glory was had, the people of the land-he-idolized their simplistic and normal settings, mocked for being too mundane. To him it seemed so routine but above-all, they owned peace, knowing no enemies, they lived-unadventurous life but held an inspiring wealth that was long-lasting that didn’t slip from their fingertips, nor materialistic or fool’s gold. His chaotic world navigated upon, continuously rejecting him seemingly from being any symbol-good. As-if wasn’t meant-to-be, swore himself to such-a-daring task with a-sea itself. The pledge prohibited him from ever tasting any true solitude. Condemning his own slavery in mind, body, spirit and soul so foolishly in brazened-youth. Whether desired or not; he must become a conqueror. 

Would figuring out who his Mother was grant clarity a sense – closer to mastery? His-feet shuffled back to standing composure resettled. Taking a breathing; believing unlikely with an exhaled-sigh. Yet his prismatic, fluttering inner-guide hadn’t steered him wrong. He’d boldly walk to this next-seek. Unknowingly that the perceived ‘inadequate’ heart-thrumming inside him, would be contested against warring deathly drums written; in scarlet-destiny. Whole barbarous Isle with a purely-dominating Nation of blood-thirsty predators, eating upon the world’s core effortlessly once again reawakened, stirring up on his beloved-seas, their appetite gluttonously, insatiable, devours in power, ruthless savages.

Collision tides were inevitably forecast to meet; in forces of two, Gorey seas of crimson-bloody murky polluted waters versus unfiltered gilded-gold with an illuminating sun-ray, overhead reflecting the tiniest semblance of hope, that encouraged invitation to waters.

[captainkurosolaire]

X4 ~ Therapy

Reference ~ Mending Past ~ ♪"Transgender"♪

Fidgeting callous digits drew together, coral incense diffuser carried a eucalyptus scent to tranquil nerves being judder, open nasal-ways passages to breathe palpably again. The bold standing in the seat never felt this got anymore untroubled. Plunged-seeking for help from a dearest hearty found himself comfortable to confine in. Instinctively airing out, grievances, pain bottled within, wasn’t natural. It was attempting to relearn or change nature altogether. Kinsmen would call this act by being here, a sign of definitive weakness. They’d shun him even further, mocking his stake as a man, calling his pride pitiful… Artificially determined by underachievers of our society. However to expose your vulnerabilities, requires unprecedented power. Grit against that lingering, nagging feeling when your entire existence wants to crawl away. Is contesting against what’s supposed to be ‘nature.’ Upon this lounge seat, he was never-braver. A pirate-chasing after the grandest treasure, all forget-to-often, Tormented inner seas to navigate and master; Self-discovery! If someone were to acquire all the wealth in that… One must have to wonder, where’d they stand? Perhaps higher… Of a place not-yet charted to the fullest.

Sweat drenched palms, his throat gulped and dried before, “Ugh, this feels like I’m on a casting-couch n’ th’ local Red-Light District, tryna’ get some virgin hole’s stretched this Sennight.” Doing what often did to everyone who came in-contact, crudely buried and joked it away. Mocking his own feelings-until it was numb, displacing their noise. Throwing a popcorn-shrimp into his mouth with snacks on display, Council was also his Chef aboard too. Across from patient, a kind-hearted, Sea Roe and motherly-like maiden, giving a small-giggle at his remark, “It’s okay. We can wait for you to lax, this isn’t something we need to force open. There’s no-fires, here Cap’n. You’re safe, waves outdoors from us, under that sail-breeze accompanied.” She stumbled-across him when concerned, after nearly-dying from experimenting on narcotics and mixing strong-rum together one-night. Without her keen-observance the Sea Maiden didn’t notice his eyes incoherently devoid of sense, that faithful-Sun. She would’ve been too-late. Suffering more scars-than physically the canvas conveyed on him. Early on taking a mantle. Faltering when it came to multiple Crews. Incurring, mutinies, several enemies, known. Or lurking within depths of the unknown. Bounties that became steep from his escapades of fearlessness. Always targets at his back the moment he donned the inherited Tricorn Hat. From fallen Cap’n who founded this Goldbrand. Inside that-wee-bit part of us that holds us back ushering, whispering like a conniving parasite. Crept-in, saying to flee, run-away. Holding us back from growth-ushering and flourishing. It often won. Looking for any way to get-off-the-hook, from achieving anything, may lead to either happiness or deemed-fortune. Important to often resist that insignificant-part. To combat this requires a shout of frustration, and committing to your declared steps to truly heal. “What would ye’ like t’ ask?” Nerves turned to stone, a deep-inhale taken and exhalation followed. Amusement, candle-lit her visage, before an earnest-smile followed, “We’ll start discussing, what brings you thrill, fulfillment? You’ve a coffer of stories, Captain. They’re written not just upon but through you. Acquiring a healthy outlet to release them may help you astutely, or give room to castaway and relinquish unnecessary weight.” She had an ease sharing empathic attributes. Every emotion someone underwent was her own. Devilishly uprooted, a no-good expression of debauchery collected his features, “Ye sure about that? I could go-listing many pleasurable affairs with vivid details. Can’t say none of those experiences weren't a thrill. Worth th’ voyage my partners I’d bet could vouch fellow sentiments.” Looking to stir-up or shake, but she didn’t waver. Expecting to have her roll-her-eyes, give up on him before starting, hopelessly. As many before-her claimed to be ears. Was obvious she would’ve listened to anything. Nothing could deter her aid, cradled around him knowing just his actual hurt. This what a true-friend exhibited; a Crew? Uncanny, selfishness often was prime here, a believed-necessity. Expect everyone with a knife-of-betrayal equipped Loyalty, if held, resided the strongest-currency. Not glinted gold nor silver.

Bested by her with a pout, seriousness followed his features loosened actually thinking of what her words asked. “I guess seeing dreams realized ov’ others. Particularly my mateys anymore is enough satisfaction. I’ve held many wonders upon this realm. I scoured formerly n’ my shade, claiming Voidal Relics, t’ lost treasures left forgotten and barren. Every-time, I felt further from complete. Would-think with the infamy and power I was collecting, even the fortune I had. There’s no way I wouldn’t feel a sense of freedom sought or grandness. Regardless a gap waged between. Acquiring those ambitious endeavors took extreme sacrifices, not always on my account. I asked much ov’ my fellows. Two-men on the crew who were lovers had much to still-live on and found eachother in my stead, recently-wed, n’ they willingly chased after these materialistic-gains, fer me…  One voyage, required t’ see a difference-make against a War of the Depths that came t’ our shores. Despite their commitment to each other that adventure was seen-through by them. It’d prove the last-moment they shared together. One of them became corrupted, tainted by a relic’s influence, consumed ov’ ration, and killed their own heart; the very partner.” Broke-down and strings inside holding his composure, snapped. Quivering in his voice to encounter realization, “W-what, kind of Cap’n does that? I kept getting my hearties killed! Thwarting away futures not my claim t’ take. Cause of selfishness, greed, to prevent others from having all th’ cards n’ their own coffer? What th’ HELL was th’ justification!? They should still be together…” Balling his fist, nails-delving into his palm until bled. She wrote notes on her clip-board before setting it down. Unknowingly a part of her… Slumbering was strictly-involved in that War of the Depths. Reincarnation of the very-prime-foe. Even beyond both their known. Captain felt it instinctively during their meeting. Soon washed away the notion and mistrusted his own instinct. Because it wasn’t all-true. She demonstrated a whole difference to the advisory, formerly named Siren among Sirens in mythos, who orchestrated and owned an Empire at Depths of the Rohtano. Calmly and understanding from his perspective, “Cap’n we can’t carry everything outside us and blame our shoulders for not staying upright, otherwise we anchor and quickly follow-pursuit of the dead. You said it yourself they willingly followed and saw crucially a mission you-mentioned for that War? What would’ve happened if they didn’t? I’ve to bet more lives lost; War unfortunately is that, there’s no real-fortune any side attains. Always loss-occurs. Think they would-agree that was in-vain? Would they-be any happier or rested souls, knowing their Captain they shared who guided them to another foremost, sabotaged and chained himself because of their behalf? Your survival has a lot of guilt, it’s harmful.” Lowering herself to extend the reach of voice, it never once, impacted a sense of thought or deep-truth to reflect in. Frustration was being quelled, she further descended down to pull him from shallow-bellows of torment. 

As-if her spirit was diving to rescue him, where misery and sorrow; drowns their victims. She attempted to explain with insightful unfathomable wisdom, “Perception carries and decides our reality. Instead of seeing your failure, think of victory. You won in some semblance a War, a tremendous feat; prevailing over it. Every-breath you take on carries extra-life of every fallen hearty you said goodbye, departed to those early sea-bed graves. Look what’ve you achieved, how you’ve mustered courageously, standing against that Past. You’re able to discern; what’s wrong or is containing your gravity. Wallowing is dangerous, making people stuck in-limbo, devouring the Future and preventing a Present from ever-leaving unwelcome shadows. One foot of yours seems to be stuck on shore. While another contemplates a leap to the tides. I’m not saying to forget. I’m saying to swim with your knowledge and experience, forward, forward, forgiving forward.” Her words didn’t instantaneously make a difference, but they were making-brief dents. Never-valuing or understood forgiveness especially towards one-self. Wasn't it easier to quickly throw down the hatch a few-pints of bottomless ale, hasten numbness? No-one wanted to confront-this, or themselves. Burdened with confronting our own burdens. Pain happens when caring. In-the-deep the rulers residing; sharks swam in this manner. Forward, never deterring. It’s all they knew, otherwise they lose breathing, resulting in death. Yet they reigned and exhibited lessons. Captain felt a lighter-sense of him wasn’t an instantaneous recovery but a progressive, steadied one. “Thanks Slafhota, I’ll see ye’ n’ Seven Sun’s same time, aye?” For first-session, it already felt like a right-step towards entering that tide becoming a king of his depth.

[captainkurosolaire]

X3 ~ Deathly Design

Reference ~ Unfortunate Future ~ ♪"Unbroken"♪

 Upon a dry-desolate land field of sands. A destroyed-convoy caravan left a smoke-signal upon the skies torched. Scattered around could only be explained as a massacre. Ruins, mangled, battered, broken cadavers of crimson-wearers.

Said their red-they famously wore represented the blood they sacrificed or had spilled. Trying to play honor among fellows. Putrid, disgusting… When did it happen? When did pirates become a bunch of soft-heart; little bitches? Care about others outside their Crews. Facade, another lie. Maelstrom sells others' beliefs; they're what Rules the Seas. Taking over-every route. Policing and enforcing marine-law. Creating a hub that’s only known-remaining.  How many Beast Tribes, they chase out of their territories? How many walls were made against nature? How many-times, they had to get on their knees, and got bailed out by a Warrior who had no reason to be involved. Calling themselves pirates, poor imitations. Only vigil remaining of pirates were the ones who were chased out, those who had semblance of identity, voices too distinguished, still-carry. 

Embers were being snuffed out, their crews, desires of freedom, stomped out prematurely, eaten and spit down their throat, and then told to say, thank-you. Those-who governed with invincible numbers and that fleet, was all they had. Revenge consumed one man. Who carried the burden, weight, of his dying breed of people, a self-inflicted-martyr. Pressure, twists like a knife, darkens a soul. Shouldering the responsibility of bygone-eras. He once reigned with gallantry. Individual-rogue was dead. Wishful thinking to hope this was a cruel-dystopian-joke, future’s roots finally known. 

Good-riddance. This manipulated realm would rejoice their thanks in time, they’d acknowledge and revere him. While he conquered them all for their benefits, because no-one else was capable.

All those left skewed, left to the afterlife, to be absorbed into the soils and amount to actually something, and attained freedom. If they-were actual pirates. He’ll be waiting for their appreciation in the Seven Hells, expectantly. Bloodstain leather-studded boots walked away from the scene. Mantled-cloaked, holding himself like some prestigious, acclaimed pirate-king, dreadful-aura surrounded him. Behind a land-slide rock, sweat profusely leaked from a leg-shaken Maelstrom; yuck a survivor. Cowardice behavior showing their genuine-hide, self-preservation. Unfortunately this poor-sod, encountered this individual-once. Newly pure-destructiveness wasn’t seen before. His eyes-bulged, tears ruined his face, from a snot weeping nose. Hurt people,           Hurt people. All you must know.

Those blonde brows-angered together, his fellows with their entrails what-was-left of them, was upon his clothes. Looks like they got some-richer texture on their coat. Revenge was infectious like a poison-droplet; it could taint a whole barrel. That scoundrel… N-No-monster had to be stopped! This wasn’t the first-instance. Random locations of Maelstrom being deployed supposed to deliver or pick-up rations or goods, were being chosen, tactically. Small-ports, barely guarded, were being butchered, harvested. Malice did this for sport. Bilge-water rats squeaking pests amongst his lion den. Take away duty and employment expected from trade-deals. You risk clients and employers-ire, you create severe rifts. Costing a whole City-State ton not just gil, but reputation. He couldn’t oppose them directly in the open-waters. He could drain them of resources, create panics. Make a civilization of needy-greedy denizens start growing irate. Maybe put some teeth-back in their maws. A rifle was aimed shaken but nerves fought until steeled thinking of his kindred. The-kid had one-shot. Think a Miqo’te with trained senses didn’t hear, smell, that filth in that-rubble? He swung-back preemptively and the bullet-clanked against a plated-bracer worn on his wrists. Deflecting and taking rotation, golden-eyes-staring into the soul. Foul presence of dominance. Unbridled walking akin to tyrannical bosses. He owned this world and fucked it, You-forget how small it was? We trampled on it instinctively after-all, Our true-purpose. Amusement came, a smile, and shake of his head. “Want ta’ die, boy? I’ll get you t’ live-eternally.” Voice carried bass. Authority, sheer-certainty. For he alone, Him alone is believed, Necessary.

“Good-jewelry can b’ made. Think, I’ll cut yer toes, fingers off and wear em’ as a bone brooch. I’ll gouge-an eye, feast upon it while your other is left t’ witness. I’ll keep you breathing-barely functioning until I choose. To give ye freedom. We’ll see, if you’ve got in-fact a spine and strangle-it around that pretty-neck like a noose. Like you hang my condemened people, every’ Sun' while getting fancy promotions and bein' publicly applauded.” Verbal painting ran through the mind of his opposition, on-a-wrong side of misfortune-law, visualizing, he felt his entire-being on a different plane altogether, happened. Blackbeard took the slowest-stride, heavy-stepping on soils. The lad-of-red was devoured long ago, by fear. Piss soiled his pants, until hysteria roared out and screamed, horror. “W-w-why us! Why us?!” He needed to reload his rifle. Couldn't find-strength like his digits-were already gone. This pirate’s-dreadful Presence, was… unfathomable wicked.

Playful-remorse showed on the Seeker. “Mommy-send you out here to die? Cruel of her yet not unexpected. Wanna-know why? Cause I can.” Speaking of the ill Admiral Merlwyb, nobody remained holding balls left to stand against her. She collected them in her purse. A purest savagery reason, a Scourge no-doubt about it had become the very-thing he once, paraded around-to-exterminate. A chilling-grin forebode on that visage. Pirate-stopped in his tracks letting-confusion and relief travel in his victim. An-attack was already made. Living-animated chains from his sheathed scimitar’s hilt had conceal, snaking around his leg burrowing in the sands.              Creeping until jailing his prey to his shackled-fate.

“Play pirate. Get th’ real-deal’s attention. I’ll b’ nice… Unlike you all-did with courtesy, bringing the severed-head of my wife, sayin’ ye found her. Maybe, I’ll do that with you. Leave you as a parting-gift on the Admiral’s desk, Starlight is comin’ around th’ corner. Get a little-sweet on her.” Vengeance, irrational-rage, vile revenge had finally-claimed the-once heroic pirate to act on bottled-past. “I-I-I Didn’t do that terrible act, I swear!” He proclaimed trying to run away, his feet-entangled, chain already taking his ankle, tripping up on his own feeble-true design finally shown. Those little-badges worn, ranks, they only account so far. Then when you’re left without numbers, bodies, you’re nothing more than another’s, kill count. Tsking, disappointing from his pursing-lips. “O’ poor-lost-soul so unguided, I’ll ferry ye’ home... You wear that-crest. Collective-n-crew, a walking ship, ye-live like a hivemind donning your crimson uniforms. Wanna carry the-others blood so badly, fine. I’ll paint that symbol. There’s a sea-that-finally swallows ye’ all.” There was no-deterring this mindset. Black-clad Captain, was overwhelmingly taken by murder on the mind. Had become-his-recent favorite vice.

The victimized-man crawled trying to scurry but the predator enacted haste for execution. As he neared-closer, in the clouds-roaring a draconian-cry shrieked. Snowflakes descend below-staining, unimpressive in Blackguard’s dismay.

Newly brandished, foiled Noble Hero, of the historical past had come to save days. Opposing forces from several-fates yet again, staring to beholden gaze.                          Piercing Blues to Unyielding Golds. A shining-pillar white knight, once thought dead, had resurrected with redeeming qualities and elegance, pristine. Once former being a spitting-image of Captain.  Now they’ve flipped, again.

Would’ve and should’ve stayed that dead, a pirate’s desire remained. A cold-unforgiving scowl gave rise to this incomplete-world, a Blackest Sun heralding as a Champion. Wasn’t going to forgive this transgression ruining spoils.

Meet The Sworn.

Ft. @lordshiroelune