Zanabane Posted April 14, 2015 Share Posted April 14, 2015 In medieval Europe, Captain Ryusei Sora's pirate fleet controls the coast from Italy to present-day Poland. Having a personal bone to pick with the king of France, Captain Sora sails to the French coast to prove that his fleet is not one to challenge. Among the men captured is a skilled royal knight who amuses Ryusei, bringing him closer to the king, holding the knight as ransom. ___________________________________________________________________ Name: Ryusei Sora Age: 26 Personality and Background: Ryusei is stern and power-hungry with a mildly sadistic playful side. His success in piracy is driven by his need to conquer and dominate. He and his father were pirate captives when Ryusei was a young child. Impressing the former captain with his intellect, Ryusei was let out of captivity and incorporated into the crew at age 12. His vengeance burned against the captain, and at 17 years old, he assassinated the fleet's captain, becoming the captain himself. Fighting hard to keep his rank, Ryusei became determined to make his fleet the most powerful naval force in all of Europe and, eventually, the known world. Ryusei is cunning, strategic, vengeful, analytical, calculated, harsh, and skilled with his scimitar. He does not intend to ever allow anyone to destroy the sanctity of his fleet. ________________________________________________________________ "Today we sail to conquer the Old World," Ryusei spoke to no one in particular as he sipped rum from a delicate sake bowl. The sake bowls were his favorite; the miniature portions turned a typical pirate's drink into a delicacy, forcing Ryusei to consume the alcohol using all of his senses. He inhaled the pungent aroma, nearly closing his eyes. Today, his fleet was to dock in France. Ryusei chuckled to himself, staring up at the magnificent oil painting his crew had plundered from France the last time they had stopped there. The slow end of the Dark Ages was bringing about better art, which Ryusei certainly appreciated. Maybe one day his crew would fight a trained militia or even a professional navy; one day they may face a real challenge. Today was not that day, to be certain, but one day, Ryusei hoped, one day Europe would be a power great enough to give him a thrill. One day these treasures would be amulets of a true victory and not worthless trinkets defaulted to him as the nations stood quivering in fear. He had no time to consider these fancies, however. Today the Captain was on a mission. He had been informed by a merchant friend that the King of France had passed a treaty forcing all ships that sailed through France's waters to pay an entrance toll, and his advisers were in the process of drafting a law that at least doubled the excise tax on luxury imports. Ryusei guessed that the government was in desperate need of revenue. "Foolish king, a country cannot own water. One as cowardly and weak as yours barely deserves to own land," the Captain thought aloud, staring out the small, circular window to the moonless night before him. A beach and a tiny silhouette of a crowded town were growing closer and closer with each of the Captain's calm breaths. An eerie fog floated like a thick scum over the dark green water, the perfect site for their dominion of terror to begin. The lookout was told to retire to his quarters after reporting that the fog was too heavy for the lights to be of any use. Even better, the Captain thought. The fog would provide the perfect cover for his fleet to sail in without warning. They came like ghosts, the ships' hulls skimming the water. Smooth ripples traced the wooden bodies, the black flags pointed like antlers, silently gazing toward France in some sort of unearthly challenge. The Captain placed his fingertips on the wooden wheel, guiding his vessel through the waterway he knew by heart. The four smaller ships followed as the Captain paved the way, expertly navigating with fog-blinded vision, as the ship floated through the narrow pass of boulders and sheetrock, through the pitch-dark cove, on and on to his vengeance. The phantom ships' smooth descent stopped gracefully before a great dock. The fearful silence of the night was broken by the screech of the plank unraveling and falling from the ship, the end crashing down onto the dock. The apparitions of the crewmen flew silently across the gangway, consuming the pure air with the stench of stale alcohol alcohol and malice. After them came the king specter, descending in his splendor, his long, ghostly hair lifted by the breeze like a ruler's trailing cape. He disappeared into the shadows as his subordinates filed into the town, their bloodshot eyes searching for any living soul, motivated to kill by vodka and bloodlust. The Captain stood in the shade of a great oak tree, watching in disinterest as several shouts began to fill the air, followed immediately by the glow of dozens of lanterns. It took only minutes for the first screams of agony and death to pierce through the night sky. The King of Plunder waited still as many shrieks and groans engulfed the hamlet, and the sounds of his mission all blended together into one single siren-song of massacre. He awaited his challengers, the men in metal. The mindless machines slaying for the glory of their country, the honor of their pathetic king. They will be here soon. As soon as someone runs to the militia or a signal flare is lit, they will come. They will come on horses, in robotic cohesion, the beasts tamed brutally for the use of the harsh master. Worthless, all of them, defending a crown they have never seen, for a king they do not truly respect. The Captain narrowed his eyes. His soldiers were different. His crewmates were his friends, and he was theirs. They fought to the death for a leader who they drank with, celebrated with, mourned with, and shared stories, dreams, and treasures with. These warriors fought with a fire, a devotion that the men in metal could never hope to emulate. Their passion was lost within their armor, clanging around inside their metal suits, their heart severed at its source. It really was no wonder that they fell so easily, died so easily. This fatal flaw of the feudal society was what allowed for Ryusei's fleet to prevail unchallenged. Forty men against three hundred, the fewer consistently defeating the greater without fail. At last, they came. Banging and clanging like pots and pans falling down stairs, the pathetic excuse of an army could be seen crashing over the foothills. Their angular, gaudily colored flags waved in celebration, extending a foolish greeting to Ryusei's own ghostly black sails. The Captain drew his scimitar from its scabbard, the glow of fire and lantern light illuminating the polished steel. He would seek out the militia's leader, and he would kill him. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ashstar Posted April 15, 2015 Share Posted April 15, 2015 Name:Mizukawa Hiyuki (Hiyuki Mizukawa) Age:25 (or 27, will update when age is official) Personality and Background: Hiyuki is very stubborn; Strong to his beliefs and never hesitant to argue in support of such beliefs. The boy was given his name due to his parents love of japanese culture and his unusual red hair. When 15, Hiyuki was taught the way of the sword(japanese swordmanship included), wielding two blades. Hiyuki was 16 when he was found by the king, having recently lost his parents to a gang of pirates, and pledged his everlasting loyalty to 'his king and nation'. Hiyuki proved himself useful and became the King's most prized knight. More about him: Hiyuki is afraid of the dark, therefore he receives nightmares when sleeping alone. Hiyuki gets flustered easily and when embarassment or angry, shakes. He chooses to hide his embarassment rather than admitting to it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ashstar Posted April 15, 2015 Share Posted April 15, 2015 Hiyuki gazes upon his blades, which both glimmered in the moon light. The lilacs were in bloom this spring and the sounds of gaiety was faint. Hiyuki seethes his blades and turns his attention to the lilacs. It was a night like this one, that hiyuki frist met the king. He remembered the sudden serendipity that had befallen upon him when the King held out a gloved hand, lilacs flowed with the wind. The King had welcomed him, and Hiyuki was more than grateful. Surely, his King will prevail and the nation will thrive. Hiyuki had left his small house, which consisted only of a bed, a place to cook, and a fire place. He lived alone there and was rarely visited, but, he remained gracious. If he weren't, he'd be abandoned once again to live for none other than himself. Though that thought may have a nice sound to it, Hiyuki would rather be submerged in the King's love and kindness. The night's quietude was broken when agonizing screams pierced through the night. Hiyuki made quick haste towards the cries. Who dared disturbed the peace in which his King established?! Whomever it may be, Hiyuki will show to them the might of the King himself! He will make them burn in an infernal eternity where they have no escape. Hiyuki was far ahead, having already enter the village and his eyes grew wide. The noise of heavy footsteps and the loud clanking of metal grew louder as his men approached behind him. "Pirates...," he began to scowl. "Pirates," Hiyuki spat out again with vemon. Oh how he hated pirates. It were the pirates that took away his loved ones. And now they've come to take his King's glory?! He wouldn't stand for it. "Retreat now you filth! Vermen such as yourselves do not belong in a place like this! You contaminate this land with your presence! ," Hiyuki bellowed, his voice echoed. He catches the eyes of a man, who stood with a glowing sword and had hair as white as the snow that falls in the winter. Could it be that the man had a hold of...magic? "No. Do not waver! You must protect whatever the King has created," Hiyuki kept his gaze upon the man... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Zanabane Posted April 15, 2015 Author Share Posted April 15, 2015 Closer, closer the metal men marched. Over the foothills and through the fog, like appendages to a single machine, moving in unison, moving closer. Ryusei mapped the battlefield with his eyes; he would need to remember when he fights the leader. The Captain made a point to fight only the most skilled of the King's warriors. The others were a joke. Well, the skilled ones were also a joke, but they were a slightly better one. One he could actually laugh at; the others barely deserved an eye-roll. The Captain scanned the oncoming sea of scrap metal for the leader. There he strode, the head fork, shining flamboyantly in the moonlight. Ryusei wondered what sort of lie the pathetic King had to tell to make these people die for him. Were they even people anymore? They did not move like people. They did not speak like people. One had to wonder if they lived like people. The steel-clad man approached. Ryusei almost smiled as he thought of the terror the militia's leader must be feeling, the town ablaze with hatred and alight with the sounds of death. The Captain watched him break away from the group and march down first, moving alone towards the town. The crewmen would know what to do. They would leave this filth alone, they would let him pass right into the trap of the Captain, into the gaping jaw of the malice Ryusei felt for the King's kind, to be chewed to nondescript bits by the scimitar's fang. It would take only a few minutes now. Only a few minutes for the metal machine to break formation and the gears to fling themselves uselessly at the Captain's subordinates. Ryusei thought he could feel the ground shake from weight of these metallic imbeciles, or maybe the shaking was the Captain's own anticipation. He had fought so many of these fights before. This one would be no different; there was no anticipation here. The Captain couldn't help but smirk as the militia's leader gave his call. Vermin. It was by no means a creative insult. How he contaminated the land, he did not know. After all, was it not the King who ordered the villagers to burn down the trees and build houses? Destroy the land and build monuments to his 'glory' in their place? Who, then, was the contaminator? The ones who ravaged the land or the ones who plundered those who ravaged? Their blind loyalty and faith in this worthless society disgusted the Captain. Soon the militia's leader returned the Captain's gaze, and, within moments, their eyes were locked. Ryusei enjoyed the moment; he watched as the metal man changed course and veered in the Captain's direction. He stepped forward and strode to meet the knight, wisps of his hair blown back behind him like tendrils of spirit. Bracing his scimitar, Ryusei walked briskly towards the soldier, with each step coming closer to the machine-man's dull eyes... But these eyes were not dull. Within these eyes burned a hatred as strong as that of his crewmates. There lay a vengeance so harsh, a wound so deep that not even the Captain's own eyes could compare. There was a special malice in these eyes, one directed so clearly at the Captain. Had they met before? Ryusei would not have remembered anyway; the King's warriors all looked the same to him. The closer the knight drew, the more fascinated the Captain became with his eyes. He looked as though he had a personal vendetta with the Captain and his crew, and this made Ryusei itch to fight him. He returned the knight's stare with a calm gaze, challenging him to come closer, to meet his death. The Captain charged forward with his blade, aiming a calculated swing at the weak mesh between the armor's collar and shoulder plate. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ashstar Posted April 16, 2015 Share Posted April 16, 2015 Hiyuki grew angrier just looking into those eyes which showed no fear. The damned bastard only fueled Hiyuki ' s fervid flames of detestation. Hiyuki kept his glare, as if trying to make his opponent aware of the vehement inside him. He walked with confidence, wanting the other man to espy his soberness. Hiyuki paid no mind to the pirates that cleared way for they would be dealt with once their leader was stricken down by his blades. Hiyuki draws his swords, now aware that the pirate wasn't going to leave with out a proper lesson. It was if the man was a blur; a vanishing shadow in the night. Hiyuki ' s eyes grew wide as the man was now before him, that blade of his making its way to his throat. Hiyuki, whom barely managed to match his opponent's quickness, successfully blocked his attacker's blade. "You are a strong man, pirate," Hiyuki admitted," but you will find, so am I! With these blades I do my master's bidding!" With all the force he could muster, Hiyuki pushed back against his opponent to give himself room to move freely out of range. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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