-The Mythics RP-

[_-Captain BRM-_]

I wrote something at an ungodly hour this morning and I haven't proof read so HAVE FUN

-


She was in the galley, sitting on a brown beaten countertop, breathing the rich smell of tobacco.
A short pipe twisted in deft, dirt stained fingers, and she smoked on account of nostalgia. The good memories erased all current stress.
She did not want to be here.
Trapped in a boat on the sea.
The ship did not creak or rock like other ships, for it was solid and stoic in nature, long and one with the shallow port. A deep fondness radiated through her thatched planks, a sense of pleasure. The ship was a happy one, and perhaps that is what scared her the most.
The girl leaned back and sighed. Hooking her fingers beneath the greased countertop, she felt the sticking water seal.

The journey would be extensive, yet she felt as though the time for her to take leave had already come.

Her chest rattled with heavy breath, and the pipe clattered against the floor as she fought to stem raging coughs. She would be sick if there was anything to retch. A time passed and she leaned on the counter, just breathing.
The girl slid from the countertop, resuming her light cupboard search. A smaug hung in the hair, attributable to an oozing pipe.
She wanted to do this, the girl thought. If she didn't, she'd be worse a fool. But here her freedom was decently secured, and luck would not stay close if she challenged it.
She passed the pipe and kicked it, then stooped and picked it up. Instinct prompted her glance to the still doorway, and she scoffed inwardly at herself, running the wood bit along her teeth.

It was a good ship.

She flipped open more silent cabinets, then moved down to the drawers, feeling the cool, ebony grain. A while passed and she found a collection of powders, some marked, others left for only the brave and foolish, the whole labeled with medicinal terms. She picked a jar and twisted it in her fingers and slipped it to a pocket.
She was not quick and sly in the way of a thief, for they were still on land, and she did not think the Captain to be the type to cast her off on a first offense. The girl moved, registering the last cabinet before the roughness in her throat intensified, and she coughed her mouth raw.

The battered pipe lay on its side, empty, with thin smoke drafting.

Tay leaned back from the counter and picked it up, and jerked open the cabinet she'd found it in.
Voices muddled above, and footsteps rapped. She tipped her head toward the low ceiling, and tossed the pipe away.

The girl swallowed another cough, slammed the cabinet shut, and strode out of the galley.

 

[-Eridanus-]

I wrote something at an ungodly hour this morning and I haven't proof read so HAVE FUN

-


She was in the galley, sitting on a brown beaten countertop, breathing the rich smell of tobacco.
A short pipe twisted in deft, dirt stained fingers, and she smoked on account of nostalgia. The good memories erased all current stress.
She did not want to be here.
Trapped in a boat on the sea.
The ship did not creak or rock like other ships, for it was solid and stoic in nature, long and one with the shallow port. A deep fondness radiated through her thatched planks, a sense of pleasure. The ship was a happy one, and perhaps that is what scared her the most.
The girl leaned back and sighed. Hooking her fingers beneath the greased countertop, she felt the sticking water seal.

The journey would be extensive, yet she felt as though the time for her to take leave had already come.

Her chest rattled with heavy breath, and the pipe clattered against the floor as she fought to stem raging coughs. She would be sick if there was anything to retch. A time passed and she leaned on the counter, just breathing.
The girl slid from the countertop, resuming her light cupboard search. A smaug hung in the hair, attributable to an oozing pipe.
She wanted to do this, the girl thought. If she didn't, she'd be worse a fool. But here her freedom was decently secured, and luck would not stay close if she challenged it.
She passed the pipe and kicked it, then stooped and picked it up. Instinct prompted her glance to the still doorway, and she scoffed inwardly at herself, running the wood bit along her teeth.

It was a good ship.

She flipped open more silent cabinets, then moved down to the drawers, feeling the cool, ebony grain. A while passed and she found a collection of powders, some marked, others left for only the brave and foolish, the whole labeled with medicinal terms. She picked a jar and twisted it in her fingers and slipped it to a pocket.
She was not quick and sly in the way of a thief, for they were still on land, and she did not think the Captain to be the type to cast her off on a first offense. The girl moved, registering the last cabinet before the roughness in her throat intensified, and she coughed her mouth raw.

The battered pipe lay on its side, empty, with thin smoke drafting.

Tay leaned back from the counter and picked it up, and jerked open the cabinet she'd found it in.
Voices muddled above, and footsteps rapped. She tipped her head toward the low ceiling, and tossed the pipe away.

The girl swallowed another cough, slammed the cabinet shut, and strode out of the galley.

that was not a post that was a literal novella

 

[-Shade-]

that was not a post that was a literal novella

Welcome to the BRM Universe

 

[-Shade-]

I wrote something at an ungodly hour this morning and I haven't proof read so HAVE FUN

-


She was in the galley, sitting on a brown beaten countertop, breathing the rich smell of tobacco.
A short pipe twisted in deft, dirt stained fingers, and she smoked on account of nostalgia. The good memories erased all current stress.
She did not want to be here.
Trapped in a boat on the sea.
The ship did not creak or rock like other ships, for it was solid and stoic in nature, long and one with the shallow port. A deep fondness radiated through her thatched planks, a sense of pleasure. The ship was a happy one, and perhaps that is what scared her the most.
The girl leaned back and sighed. Hooking her fingers beneath the greased countertop, she felt the sticking water seal.

The journey would be extensive, yet she felt as though the time for her to take leave had already come.

Her chest rattled with heavy breath, and the pipe clattered against the floor as she fought to stem raging coughs. She would be sick if there was anything to retch. A time passed and she leaned on the counter, just breathing.
The girl slid from the countertop, resuming her light cupboard search. A smaug hung in the hair, attributable to an oozing pipe.
She wanted to do this, the girl thought. If she didn't, she'd be worse a fool. But here her freedom was decently secured, and luck would not stay close if she challenged it.
She passed the pipe and kicked it, then stooped and picked it up. Instinct prompted her glance to the still doorway, and she scoffed inwardly at herself, running the wood bit along her teeth.

It was a good ship.

She flipped open more silent cabinets, then moved down to the drawers, feeling the cool, ebony grain. A while passed and she found a collection of powders, some marked, others left for only the brave and foolish, the whole labeled with medicinal terms. She picked a jar and twisted it in her fingers and slipped it to a pocket.
She was not quick and sly in the way of a thief, for they were still on land, and she did not think the Captain to be the type to cast her off on a first offense. The girl moved, registering the last cabinet before the roughness in her throat intensified, and she coughed her mouth raw.

The battered pipe lay on its side, empty, with thin smoke drafting.

Tay leaned back from the counter and picked it up, and jerked open the cabinet she'd found it in.
Voices muddled above, and footsteps rapped. She tipped her head toward the low ceiling, and tossed the pipe away.

The girl swallowed another cough, slammed the cabinet shut, and strode out of the galley.

Tay is one of those characters that you dislike for their morals but who are still half decent and then make you frustrated because you want to fix them but you cannnnn't
So then you get this love/hate feeling for them. Ah, the joys of REALISM

 

[_-Captain BRM-_]

that was not a post that was a literal novella

Yeah, that happens-

Welcome to the BRM Universe

BRMU

Tay is one of those characters that you dislike for their morals but who are still half decent and then make you frustrated because you want to fix them but you cannnnn't
So then you get this love/hate feeling for them. Ah, the joys of REALISM

Yes, for real, felt. This is so very true. My goodness, it's better when you're the author xD I have a bit more perspective, however grim

 

[Crestcrazy2]

Y’all I’m still alive, but I’ve been busy! I’m so sorry! I feel like my characters aren’t that important to the story yet so maybe I haven’t messed it up too badly. But my gosh life has been hectic.
Building a barn and remodeling my parents entire house (not me personally but I’ve helped when I can), I moved out and am living in a different town that my fam so that’s crazy. Tryna settle into living by myself. IM SUPPOSED TO FIGURE OUT THREE MEALS A DAY? FOREVER?!
But hey! I missed y’all!

 

[Amer]

Y’all I’m still alive, but I’ve been busy! I’m so sorry! I feel like my characters aren’t that important to the story yet so maybe I haven’t messed it up too badly. But my gosh life has been hectic.
Building a barn and remodeling my parents entire house (not me personally but I’ve helped when I can), I moved out and am living in a different town that my fam so that’s crazy. Tryna settle into living by myself. IM SUPPOSED TO FIGURE OUT THREE MEALS A DAY? FOREVER?!
But hey! I missed y’all!

(Truly a challenge. Good for you. I’m glad you’re doing well. )

 

[Lacy Duckwing]

The evening wind blew softly through Jintao's coal-black hair. His brown coat was fully buttoned and the collar brushed against his neck. The deck boards reflected the setting sun beneath his heavy boots. Jintao drew a deep breath of salty air and held it momentarily before letting it out. He held his left arm tightly behind his back, grasping the empty sleeve that once warmed his right arm.
Humans and Mythics that posed as the new crew members brought cargo aboard the Quicksilver. Jintao watched them from the forecastle. His brows furrowed together and his shoulders tightened. Someone was bound to look familiar. Perhaps someone he had attacked, or worse- met aboard the Destruction.
The salty air stung Jintao's eyes, reminding him to blink. Coming here was a mistake, his conscience told him. If anyone recognized him from the Destruction, it would be over for him. They would surely betray his past life to the overly trusting captain if, of course, they didn't try to kill him first.
Captian Vhanya Marriot walked across the quarter deck with an apparent old friend, whom Jintao assumed must be 'Cyrus Bailey.' His stomach twisted and turned. The man was old, possibly in his fifties, just like his last captain was. At that age, nothing got past them as they knew everything. Their hearts were hard as stone and their minds were nothing but cruelty.
Jintao's chest slowly rose for a moment and dropped again. It was another breath closer to his last. He clenched his hollow sleeve tighter, checking to see if his pulse was still there. Cyrus had to know who Captain Nahash Ammoni was. Whether it was through battle or friendship, the two would have had to cross paths at some point.
Jintao studied the man from a distance. Cyrus walked with confidence and an even gait. He glanced in Jintao's direction, and Jintao leaned his head down, forgetting he had left his hat in his new cabin. Foolish me, he griped. He knew better than that. A man bought trust with eye contact and without the hat, his move looked more like shame than shady.
Cyrus looked away as though he never noticed the man standing alone and Jintao wondered if he had even looked at him at all. Other mortals boarded the ship while some left to grab more cargo. There was plenty to be distracted by, so perhaps that would be enough to save Jintao's dignity, even if it were for a moment.
His eyes dashed to the stairwell just as Ember disappeared below it. Lupin followed in a ramble like that of a drunk. Jintao's jaw tightened. Skill, he always got things by skill. Anything less than that was fed to the sharks or shot by a bullet. And here this werewolf, a disease meant for strengthening their enemies, had nothing but the guarantee of falling off the ship with the first wave it breached.
Jintao turned back to watching those boarding. Still, none of the faces looked familiar, but would he ever remember them if he had met them in the blur of smoke and blade? Probably not. If he had recognized their faces, it would have been for a situation that was more than a battle. He raised his hand along his spine, giving his empty sleeve the illusion that there was a right arm moving with his left. Lowering it back down, he allowed air into the sleeve with hopes it'd look full.

 

[RDchicken99]

Cyrus Bailey raised a hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the blood-red sunset. After their talk, Vhanya had marched off to the aft, leaving him at the mainmast.
The ‘Silver would set sail by morning. His crew was efficient and would soon have the bulkheads assembled and supplies organized; from barrels of salt pork and beef, to the cook’s varying necessities; sacks of flour, pound upon pound of salt for brining meats, barrels of milled oats, and varying cured cheeses; then, of course, the proper supply of beer and rum.
Vhanya was as spirited as ever, and growing more vain by the year —if her lace-laden hat and the gold hoops from her ears were to be noted— she certainly possessed her grandfather’s propensity for extravagance.
Her crew was another matter; Vhanya had held to the philosophy of ‘ask questions later’ as long as Cyrus had known her, and her current assortment of persons showed she still did.
But many of them displayed the makings of pirates. Vin’s red-pinioned Harpy had clearly taken up her role and as far as Cyrus had seen, the crew was obeying her with little trouble— and those of his crew were cunning, affectations were seldom tolerated aboard the Meredith.
The tall, dark fellow too had an air, he’d been a pirate; the carriage of the shoulders and shrewd flick of the eye was unmistakable. From what Vhanya had told him this man was her first mate, Cyrus loosed the small logbook tucked in his belt and scrawled a note to speak to the man.
Returning his logbook to its place, he started towards a nearby hatchway, descending belowdecks to survey the bulkhead progress.

 

[RDchicken99]

(Woot woot more Fitzpatrick)

The brig was an unassuming but serviceable ship; her masts were sturdy and sails new. Not one would suspect that she would soon carry cargo of great importance, such as the wyvern boy— and Pinchbeck.
Sunset had fully claimed the skies by the time Fitz reached the port, hooves clicking along the dock boards. Pulling his coat tighter against his shoulders —as the sea breezes were quite cool— he slowed to assess the brig.
He knew enough of ships to sound clever and well-versed in conversation, and that was sufficient for him. And now he could tell that the brig would take them to Undermine with little trouble, weather permitting.
The corners of his mouth tugged downwards; the prospect of having to ride on that ship, with the wyvern, to Undermine of all places, was most unpleasant, but he was trusted by the King and his officials, and Fitz took pride in that. To turn down such an offer would not benefit his image.
Mostly satisfied by the brig’s soundness, he returned to his carriage to begin the trip back to the compound, setting his mind to having the wyvern transported to the ship upon his arrival.