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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Rules-based RPGs --> Dungeons and Dragons --> Bring Me That Horizon
Parent thread: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
GM for this game: Bromern Sal
Players for this game: Eol Fefalas, Keeper of Dragons, Nomad D2, Lady Dark
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    Messages in Bring Me That Horizon
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Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 428/28
6563 Posts


Dinner and dancing, all but done...

Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), roughly 12:03 P.M..; The Rub of Del Monte

“Anyone else wanna kill me, today?!” Crowe’s eyes lift from where Kidane’s corpse lay, entrails seeping slowly from its opened belly.

None of the five who’d accompanied the big slaver onto the Rub of DelMonte’s balcony offer a reply… or so much as dare to meet the quartermasters gaze, for that matter… instead, they simply stare in shock and horror at the sight of Kidane lying in a pool of his own blood and guts…

“Aye,” Fin grumbles, flicking the blood from his blades before returning them to their places, “I thought ‘s much.”

…The crowd filling the balcony’s doorway, too, had fallen silent, and many a face shared the same horrified expressions as Kidane’s men. From just beyond that stunned silent crowd, though, Fin heard a trio of familiar voices.

“Fin! Ya there?”

“Quartermaster!”

“Move aside, I say!”

Glancing past the frozen men, Crowe spots a jostling of the people and Emanuel breaks through looking somehow both frustrated and concerned. Behind him, Aleksi and Zec stumble onto the balcony.

“Sir?” Emanuel queries with raised eyebrows while immediately assessing that his quartermaster is in a predicament. All three of the Dog’s crew have hands on sword hilts and both Emanuel and Aleksi Rautio have their other hand on pistols at their waists.

“So ya did hear me, eh,” Fin smirks in response to the brawny little Mexican. “Yer a bit late ta th’ party, lads,” he adds, mopping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, as his gaze flits to Alexi and Zec, “but I’d appreciate ye seein’ tha’ these lubbers clean up their rubbish ‘fore they shove off…” He gives Kidane’s cooling corpse a kick to emphasize the word ‘rubbish’ before he steps over it and strides for the door… “I’m in need o’ an honest drink,” he mumbles, clapping Emanuel on the shoulder as he passes by.

Adrenaline still coursing through him, the Sun Dog’s quartermaster shoulders through the crowd still gathered in the doorway with scarcely a “get th’ f*&# outta m’way” needing to be uttered and snatches a half full cup from one of the onlooker’s hands as he goes. He drains the thing in a single tip and, as he reaches the top of the stairs, unceremoniously tosses the cup away. “Jus’ tryin’ ta find a job,” Fin grumbles, mostly under his breath, as he stomps down the steps, “but tha’ can’ be done wi’out someone tryin’ ta kill me… No, tha’d be too bloody simple, wouldn’ it?” Reaching the bottom of the stairway, Crowe strides for the door leading to the street, his hard eyes sweeping the room before him, daring any to meet his gaze.

“Where c’n a bloke find a decent bottle o’ rum in this shyte-hole town,” he asks no one in particular, and certainly not under his breath…

((OOC: Okay… Fin’s off in search of a “decent drink” and to do the job Anna sent him ashore to do, to begin with. He’s not necessarily expecting an answer to that last question, of course, but if any suggestions are offered up, he’s apt to point himself in the direction proposed.))



Posted on 2018-01-05 at 08:25:11.

Nomad D2
RDI Fixture
Karma: 37/4
1901 Posts


Pirates, sailors, guards and whores creating a ruckus? Inconceivable!

Wiley moved quickly, but cautiously, towards the docks. He watched as the guards gained some distance ahead of him. He didn't want anything to do with them. Pirates tend to prefer to avoid the law, after all. He just hoped that some other stupid crewman from the Dog wasn't the source of the problem. Pirates do tend to attract the law, after all.

He groaned a bit inwardly, with his imagination letting him envision all sorts of messes his comrades could get him in. But he continued to follow the guards at a distance - the commotion seemed to be down towards where he was supposed to meet First Mate Cole anyway.

As he got closer to the docks the crowds go thicker, with many people rushing back towards Wiley, which didn't make his progress any easier. Caution took the lead. About a block from the docks, Wiley ducked into a side street - as best as he could tell it should move him further down the beach and closer towards where the Dog's skiff was located if he needed to get back to the ship. Hopefully it would also allow him to come out on the docks/shore on the other side of the commotion. If the roads ran the way he hoped they did, he should be able to look back at the source of the commotion and back towards where he was to meet the First Mate. The two locations seemed close together. Wiley had never been a fan of coincidences and his imagination provided many possibilities, few of them good, as he picked up speed down the side street. He hadn't given up on caution, but at the moment it seemed to be losing the race to imagination.

Posted on 2018-01-05 at 14:45:25.

Keeper of Dragons
Devil's Advocate
Karma: 46/18
1945 Posts


.

Goncalvo stepped into the launch. "aye, I am ready to return to the ship". He was just about seated when he heard "killed a soldier". "What, who killed a soldier? Goncalvo knew this was no good news. "Hellfire did, and a city official as well." came the reply. Oh, this is bad news for us. Very hard to do business in a port if you make enemies of the local government. Then again what else should I expect from a boatload of pirates." Pull hard for the ship, I must give my news to the captain and see if she wants to ready sails in case we need to leave quickly."

Posted on 2018-01-09 at 14:20:00.

Bromern Sal
A Shadow
RDI Staff
Karma: 124/10
3099 Posts


Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), roughly 5:48 P.M.; Beach

“Sailmaster,” Seamus Higgins is the sailor on the oars. A broad-shouldered, slim waisted man with a crooked smile and good looks, Seamus wears his red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. His freckled skin makes him look older than he is and his Irish accent often causes people to have trouble understanding him. “Ready t’ return t’ da Dog, are ya?”

Goncalvo steps into the launch. "Aye, I am ready to return to the ship."

Higgins looks behind Goncalvo and sweeps the town’s outskirts with his pale blue eyes. Satisfied that no one else is coming, the Irishman turns and, together with the Sailsmaster, pushes the craft into the increasing waves.

“Did ya ‘ear wha’s ‘appened?” Seamus grunts while clamoring over the side of the boat and dropping into position.

“Hellfire kilt a guard an’ a city official,” Higgins grins handsomely.

The dignified Portuguese sailor is just about seated when he hears, "—kilt a guard—".

"What? Who killed a soldier?” Goncalvo knows this is not good news.

"Hellfire did, and a city official as well," Came the calm reply, though the sailsmaster can recognize a hint of amusement in the Irishman’s tone.

Oh, this is bad news for us. Very hard to do business in a port if you make enemies of the local government. Then again what else should I expect from a boatload of pirates. Outloud, Goncalvo Goncallves d’Gafanha da Nazare speaks with urgency, "Pull hard for the ship. I must give my news to the captain and see if she wants to ready sails in case we need to leave quickly."
Seamus raises his eyebrows but his is to do as he is told and speculate in his own time, so, with a grunt, he sets to the oars. Fighting through the evening waves they are slower in reaching the Dog’s starboard side than they were in leaving it. Upon approach a rope and wood ladder is dropped over the rail and Goncalvo ascends as quickly as he is able.

Few sailors are still aboard the Sun Dog and the main deck is nearly empty except for Anraoi Ó Fathaigh, a fierce Irishman and close friend to Seamus; Ardeshir Ghazali, called Bloodless by the crew, a Pakistani with black eyeliner and a black turban to match; a fellow Goncalvo had never seen before with a bandaged leg and dark countenance; and Salazar, the cabin boy. Bloodless and Anraoi seem to have pulled guard duty while the injured fellow appears to be asleep and Salazar is dutifully mopping the deck.

“Welcome back, Sailsmaster,” Anraoi grins through his thick red beard while wild blue eyes drink in the well-dressed officer’s worried face. “‘Tings no’ go as ye hoped ashore?”

Bloodless carries a flat stare with him almost all of the time except when in battle. At that time, his visage becomes horrific and demonic. Now, he looks over the side and waves Seamus off while not offering anything further to the Irishman’s inquiry. Salazar glances shyly up from his work but immediately returns to his task when his dusk blue orbs meet Goncalvo’s.

(OOC: Whatever response you deem appropriate…)

“If yer ‘bout t’ see the Cap’n,” O’Fathaigh calls after the officer as Goncalvo strides towards Anne’s quarters, “ya might be cautious, sir. Ol’ Hellfire came back t’ the Dog with blood on ‘er ‘ands an’ Cap’n Cole weren’t none too ‘appy ‘bout it. She’s in a black mood.”

(OOC: Assuming you’ll continue…)

Standing straight-backed before the weather-worn door to the captain’s quarters, Goncalvo Goncallves d’Gafanha da Nazare knocks. Silence follows for a few short breaths before the door is flung open and a glowering Anne Cole stands before him.

“Ah,” she exhales, her hard yet beautiful features softening just a bit. “Back from shore so soon, Goncalvo?”

(OOC: Time is roughly 6:08 PM)

------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), roughly 12:03 P.M.; The Rub of Del Monte

“Sir?” Emanuel queries with raised eyebrows while immediately assessing that his quartermaster is in a predicament. All three of the Dog’s crew have hands on sword hilts and both Emanuel and Aleksi Rautio have their other hand on pistols at their waists.

“So ya did hear me, eh?” Fin smirks in response to the brawny little Mexican. “Yer a bit late ta th’ party, lads,” he adds, mopping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm as his gaze flits to Alexi and Zec, “but I’d appreciate ye seein’ tha’ these lubbers clean up their rubbish ‘fore they shove off…” He gives Kidane’s cooling corpse a kick to emphasize the word ‘rubbish’ before he steps over it and strides for the door. “I’m in need o’ an honest drink,” he mumbles, clapping Emanuel on the shoulder as he passes by.

Emanuel Tenorio gawks at the scene before him even as he’s being given instructions and a slap to the shoulder. Sharpening up once Fin passes by, he returns to a steady countenance just as the stunned entourage of the dead slaver begin to shift.

“Now, don’ go doin’ nothin’ estúpido,” he growls whilst taking up a more threatening stance. The five men pause, unsure of their course now that Kidane is dead.

“Ne siivota sotkua, neljännes mestari,” Alexi says in his native tongue which somehow makes his reply seem threatening. “We shall ensure it.”

Adrenaline still coursing through him, the Sun Dog’s quartermaster shoulders through the crowd still gathered in the doorway with scarcely a “get th’ f*&# outta m’way” needing to be uttered and snatches a half full cup from one of the onlookers’ hands as he goes by. He drains the thing in a single tip of the container and, as he reaches the top of the stairs—completely uncaring of the man whose drink he just stole’s response, unceremoniously tosses the cup away.

“Jus’ tryin’ ta find a job,” Fin grumbles, mostly under his breath, as he stomps down the steps, “but tha’ can’ be done wi’out someone tryin’ ta kill me… No, tha’d be too bloody simple, wouldn’ it?” A wide-hipped blonde woman with a dingy white blouse and a low neckline struggles to move out of his way. Reaching the bottom of the stairway, Crowe strides for the door leading to the street, his hard eyes sweeping the room before him, daring any to meet his gaze.

“Where c’n a bloke find a decent bottle o’ rum in this shyte-hole town,” he asks no one in particular, and certainly not under his breath.

“I dare say you’ve found the place, sir,” echoes the reply in a fine alto.

Gazing in the direction of the instruction, Fin watches as a man descends the last few steps. Taller than Fin, this individual’s brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail and tied off with a black bow. Collar high with a blue tie, he wears a powder blue top coat despite the heat and a ruffled blouse beneath it. Ruffles even spread from his sleeves draping over his hands, one of which holds a black cane with a silver knob on the end in the shape of an owl’s head. His britches are knee-length and of a similar blue to his coat, and his stockings are a light gray. Black, highly-polished shoes with brass buckles scrape the last of the stairs and settle upon the squeaky wooden floor. His thin brown eyebrows are raised politely and his aristocratic features set in a bored play.

“Perhaps you would deign to allow me the honor of purchasing you said beverage?”

(OOC: Time is roughly 12:03 PM.)

----------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), Docks, 1:47 P.M.

Gliding gracefully to her booted feet, Maggie shoves the flintlock back into her brace.

“What ‘ave ya bloody done?” Shark Tooth barks irreverently whilst sliding to a halt in front of her.

“Don’t you %$*&!^& forget herself, ya daft bastard,” she fumes, leveling her murder weapon before his face. “The pompous ass put it on his %$^*&^% self.”

“Capt’n Cole—” Wylie coughs around his swollen lips.

“Is not bloody here,” Maggie growls. “An’ we shouldn' waste no more %$# $*^$ $%&^##% time here neither. So, stop standing there like a ^%&^%#÷ fool an’ move!”

If there’s one thing that Shark Tooth is extremely good at it’s following orders. So good is he, as a matter-of-fact, that he starts off in the direction of the nearby beach only to be stopped when Maggie calls out, “Not that way you *^*&!”

Sheathing her sword, the younger Cole sister secures her pistols with her hands as she runs for the nearby alley with Sharky hot on her heels. About them the life upon the dock reels back as most are content to stay out of this murderous woman’s way rather than involving themselves. Shortly burning away the distance between them and the relative shelter of the side street, Maggie slows to a swift walk while casting a furtive glance over her left shoulder. Few are purposefully paying her any mind and those who are quickly redirect their gazes.

“We keep moving,” she purrs. “We keep moving until we’re sure that we’re too &^%$$^( far from the scene to be associated.”

“Aye, miss,” Shark Tooth replies. His good eye is on the space ahead. “Calm an’ cagey.”

“Ya,” she spares him a look, “calm an’ %@!$^(( cagey.”

-----------------------

As he draws closer to the docks the crowds get thicker, with many people rushing back towards Wiley, which doesn't make his progress any easier. Caution takes the lead. About a block from the docks, Wiley ducks into a side street—as best as he can tell it should move him further down the beach and closer towards where the Dog's skiff is located if he needs to get back to the ship. Hopefully, it will also allow him to come out on the docks, or shore, on the other side of the commotion. If the roads run the way he hopes they do, he should be able to look back at the source of the commotion and back towards where he is to meet the First Mate. The two locations seem close together by his best estimation.
Wiley has never been a fan of coincidences and his imagination provides many possibilities—few of them good—as he picked up speed down the side street. He hasn't given up on caution, but at the moment it seems to be losing the race to imagination.

Red catches his attention as he passes between buildings. Not the red of blood or the bright red of a dye, but the red of a fiery woman’s hair flowing from beneath a broad brimmed, dark colored hat. Pausing, Cracker can’t believe his luck. Down a short alley and across the busy street he has just left, and then through another short corridor, William is sure that he’s just witnessed Maggie Cole pass by in the opposite direction followed closely by Shark Tooth Stryker!

(OOC: Time is roughly 1:50 PM)


Posted on 2018-01-09 at 18:00:32.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 428/28
6563 Posts


Well, isn't that just dandy?

June 3rd 1670, Tortuga Bay Settlement, roughly 12:05 p.m.; The Rub of DelMonte common room

“Jus’ tryin’ ta find a job,” Fin grumbles, mostly under his breath, as he stomps down the steps, “but tha’ can’ be done wi’out someone tryin’ ta kill me… No, tha’d be too bloody simple, wouldn’ it?” A wide-hipped blonde woman with a dingy white blouse and a low neckline struggles to move out of his way. Reaching the bottom of the stairway, Crowe strides for the door leading to the street, his hard eyes sweeping the room before him, daring any to meet his gaze.

“Where c’n a bloke find a decent bottle o’ rum in this shyte-hole town,” he asks no one in particular, and certainly not under his breath.

“I dare say you’ve found the place, sir,” echoes the reply in a fine alto.

Gazing in the direction of the instruction, Fin watches as a man descends the last few steps. Taller than Fin, this individual’s brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail and tied off with a black bow. Collar high with a blue tie, he wears a powder blue top coat despite the heat and a ruffled blouse beneath it. Ruffles even spread from his sleeves draping over his hands, one of which holds a black cane with a silver knob on the end in the shape of an owl’s head. His britches are knee-length and of a similar blue to his coat, and his stockings are a light gray. Black, highly-polished shoes with brass buckles scrape the last of the stairs and settle upon the squeaky wooden floor. His thin brown eyebrows are raised politely and his aristocratic features set in a bored play.

“Perhaps you would deign to allow me the honor of purchasing you said beverage?”

Honor, again, is it?

Fin’s brows raise, too, as he turns and slowly assesses the dandy of a man. Where the fop’s expression was one of polite boredom, though, Crowe’s spoke more to skepticism laced, perhaps, with a bit of curiosity. This wasn’t the sort of man with whom Fin would typically be found drinking… robbing, perhaps, or stalking in search of a prize. Even more curious in the pirate’s mind was that the coxcomb fellow had invited him

The quartermaster hooked his thumbs over the top of his belt as his scrutinizing gaze made its way back from the other man’s highly polished shoes, past the powder blue poofery of his frilly garb, and settled, once more, on the aristocratic set of the man’s visage. For the flicker of an instant, Fin considered telling the man to go f*&% himself. Instead, though, one corner of his mouth pulled up into the beginnings of something more affable than the grim sneer he’d been wearing and he offered the other man a curt nod. “Aye,” he rumbled, a faint shrug of his shoulders accompanying the word, “Why th’ hell not? Ye look ’s if ye c’n afford it….”

He took a couple of steps in the fop’s direction, adding; “If it’s anythin’ more’n th’ drinks ye’ve got in mind, though, I’ll pass. I’ve had more’n my fill o’ folk f*&^in’ wit’ me, t’day.”

((OOC: All right, if the frilly robin’s egg doesn’t run off, let’s have a drink with the man and see where it goes… Fin will let the man lead the way to a table or the bar at his discretion.))



Posted on 2018-01-10 at 10:19:22.
Edited on 2018-01-10 at 10:19:45 by Eol Fefalas

Keeper of Dragons
Devil's Advocate
Karma: 46/18
1945 Posts


.

"Alas, Captain my Captain, I am so soon returned. For a few moments I thought I might have to stay too long in too fine an inn but at the last moment my gentlemanly charm seemed to let me down and a most attractive young woman chose to turn her back on me. But I was able to gather some interesting information on tides, currents and wind patterns. Things you must find terribly boring but to one such as me it is a treasure." Goncalvo took a moment and then continued, "I have heard there was some excitement in town of a sort that may not further our acceptance in this port. Should I make ready a plan for an expeditious departure?" As he waited for an answer he could not help but wonder if the lass on the dock or the Captain herself would be the most entertaining companion.

Posted on 2018-01-10 at 20:11:56.

Nomad D2
RDI Fixture
Karma: 37/4
1901 Posts


Was that a flash of Cole Red?

Red catches his attention as he passes between buildings. Not the red of blood or the bright red of a dye, but the red of a fiery woman’s hair flowing from beneath a broad brimmed, dark colored hat. Pausing, Cracker can’t believe his luck. Down a short alley and across the busy street he has just left, and then through another short corridor, William is sure that he’s just witnessed Maggie Cole pass by in the opposite direction followed closely by Shark Tooth Stryker!

(Assuming "opposite direction" means they are going the opposite way Cracker is - back the way he had come from. If this is wrong then this needs adjustment - he is trying to catch them.)

Cracker caught a glimpse of what he was sure was a Cole and a Shark headed in the opposite direction. Spinning quickly on his heel he dashed back the way he had come. Running down the alley and chasing the others didn't seem likely to work, especially with the crowd on the other end of the alley. But since the road he was on was lightly travelled he could move quickly. If he retraced his steps quickly and then cut towards them he would likely run into the pair.

(If he does meet them he would approach them and address the First Mate. Or course, if circumstances surrounding them are a bit crazy, he might have to figure that out first.)

Posted on 2018-01-16 at 18:17:29.

   
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