Marineking

Okay, my other RP is starting to slow down despite all my attempts to keep it going (Though I still have hope…), so that means I start another one to fill my time. One of these damn things has got to do well. It’s a pretty long post, but bear with me please.

So anyway, I’m going to indulge my flying/airship fetishes with this one (No, not those kinds of fetishes, sorry). Most of the story is going to take place in the air (I hope, at least, but you can never really tell where these RP’s will ultimately go), in a roughly Victorian period without the typical fantasy sense of magic. History and details below will follow.

Background: The world of Vey is made up, not of several large continents, but multitudes of much smaller islands, in one increasingly large archipelago. Because of this, for the longest time the only form of travel was by boat and the near constant piracy and war between islands made contact with any but adjacent islands highly unlikely. But then, news spread across the seas, someone had discovered how to produce a liquid chemical called “Sylka,” which when used in conjunction with some of his other experiments, granted the power of flight. Over time, this technology spread and developed, until now, one hundred years after the original discovery, when hulking airships and buzzing airplanes, made of anything from wood to aluminum to steel, travel the skies at every hour, and the world has since connected on a scale never seen before.

Details: Basically, airships are powered by the relatively new Sylka Engine, which runs off of (You guessed it) Sylka liquid. There are different variations for different types of ships. For instance, the airship model only provides the ability to hover, using anti-gravity effects, sort of, and then large propellers for propulsion. The smaller model for planes works just like a real-life piston aircraft. You will believe this, because in this thread I am God (And I don’t feel like coming up with a convoluted technical explanation about why this fantasy substance makes shit fly, so please, bear with me). The most thriving business is air-trade, obviously, and at least half of the world’s population in involved somehow, either as merchants, pirates, mercenaries, air-police, or the militaries.
There are no real nations, by now the world is simply made up of 50-70 or so neutral islands, each one ruled in its own little way by its Governor, protected by its Police Force, and fed through its air-trade profits. An island that does not produce anything worth trading quickly dies or is turned into a farming-island. The real powers in the world are the wandering Fleets, gatherings of air-militaries who recruit from all over the world, and are basically nations in and of themselves (They aren’t really mercenaries, because they do not sell their services, but they do control islands, on occasion, when they feel like it. Fleet size can range from anything between four ships and forty; the only thing that really defines one is the fact that they each have their own sigil, and refer to themselves as a Fleet. Only several are powerful enough to be known the world wide.).
Technology is pretty Victorian as well (Except for the airships). Think early 1700’s, nothing fancier then flintlocks and cannons.

Alrighty, on to the important stuff. Our characters are going to start on the relatively large and prosperous island of Gulados, which is one of the biggest ports in the eastern-seas. Its entirety, shore to shore, is made up of a single city, which is named after the island. It’s a free-port, so basically as long as you don’t cause trouble and pay the trade tariffs, the Police won’t screw you up (Though they can if they want to). Just a few limits on whom or where your characters are. First, they must be on the island, on a ship docked there, or preparing to dock there. All of our characters are buddies, and while we have our own paths in life, we still hang around each other whenever we can. One of our yearly get-togethers is taking place in Gulados today, at a location I will reveal shortly. Beyond that, it would probably be a good idea if you aren’t the leader of some big organization or something, as it could complicate matters (Though I will go no further).

PM me your beginning post, though no character sheet, and try to make sure you at least physically describe your character in it (But I will be lenient if you wish to wait a few posts because you can’t think of a creative way or some such, but get the essentials such as hair, body-type and gender out of the way as quick as you can).

***

Van Legarsen laughed as he came out of his circling around the Gulados airport, the wind screeching past him as he began the procedures for landing. With the utmost care and skill, he pushed forward slightly on the control stick, aiming the nose of his sleek Zensa 54 down a bit and reducing the throttle enough so that his airspeed would begin dropping. The beautiful bird responded nearly before he was done thinking, beginning the drop that would bring him down for landing. Nothing less could be expected of the Zensa 54, whose predecessor, the Zensa 44, had been known as a flying death-trap. It was ironic that the very next model would quickly garner one of the best reputations among small-craft pilots like Van. It had a wooden frame, coated with aluminum to increase durability and, in Van’s case, was painted sky-blue with red stripes down the sides. Small and light, the Zensa 54 was fast, light, aerobatic, and responded to the lightest touch.

Turning slightly, Van aligned himself with the small airstrip on the ground in front of him. He had already communicated with the ground using light-signals in Morse-code earlier, so the airstrip had been cleared and was ready for them. Finally, he cut the throttle entirely, reducing the Sylka intake to the engine to nothing, and increased the flaps to decrease airspeed. Slowly but surely, they dropped towards the airstrip, until finally when they were about to crash, Van pulled up on the control stick, setting the plane smoothly on it’s wheels and he engaged the brakes. His face was almost hurting from the smile he had held since the beginning drop, and the adrenaline that always coursed through him on landing approaches began to fade. There was so much that could go wrong with landing at a busy airport like this. Your communication could get mixed up and you could find yourself landing opposite another plane; your engine could give out too early and you could find yourself going into a wall; or the most common problem, you could simply make a bad landing and hit the ground going too fast, effectively flipping such a small plane over, or any number of problems that could kill a pilot. The rush was breathtaking, and Van loved every minute of it.

Finally, his plane came to a stop, and, giving it a little throttle to get him going again, he began taxiing off the strip and into the fenced-off collection of hangars at the end. Men at the entrance slid open the large doors and gave him the number of an open space. Van moved his plane to the appropriate hangar, stopping just inside the doors as a small group of men in the green and gold colors of the city appeared and crowded around him. Van un-strapped himself and climbed out from the cockpit, hopping to the ground. He took his goggles off and approached the lead mechanic, marked by the silver insignia on his cap. “I’ll need her refueled and the engine inspected,” Van said. “Be careful, I’ve got some of my own modifications in there and I don’t want them bothered with.” The man just nodded and held out his hand, into which Van placed three silver marks. Turning, he climbed back up into his Zensa, feeling behind the seat until he came to a switch, which he flicked upwards. The bottom of the seat flicked open, revealing his bag and few other things like extra oil. Hauling it over his shoulder, he turned and left the men to their work, walking with long strides outside of the hangar through a side door next to the main ones. Breathing in the faintly exhaust-smelling air, he looked at the sky, clogged with airships both big and small, either passing over, lifting off, or waiting for docking permissions.

He brushed off his gray flight suit with his free hand as he wheedled his way around numerous landing strips, craft as small as his and some of them larger landed all around him. There were no ships, of course, the area for them was all the way across town for some reason, but Van did not think it wise to question the strange mentality of fringe-towns such as Galudos. He passed the main building, which had changing rooms, but didn’t bother entering. His full-body flight suit was comfortable, if a little warm, and he was in a hurry, as usual, even though his knotted shoulder-length black hair could use a rinsing. He marched on, his thick leather boots scuffing the ground, onwards toward town, and a treasured meeting.

__________________