-+ Vandet .:. Farerne +- [Sailor Roleplay <> Open]

[OreoHeroz]

(( Do Sailing Masters have their own room?))



The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be.

Quick Info
Name: Kirle Vurlaget
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Ship: Savant Void (Kaos' ship)
Rank: Sailing Master

His hand groped around for the scrolls he fairly knew, but the empty air caused him to worry. Since he had tipped his chair back to lean on two legs, he leaned forward. The chair thumped onto the wooden floor in response, resting on all four legs. With that, the man pulled the half-opened drawer all the way to its limit, before peering inside. The maps, which contained all the ports, oceans, lands, and where the mythical creatures were located, was gone. Every single one of them.

Kirle's eyebrows turned down, a small scowl masking his face. Where could they have gone? He ran his right hand over his face, before shutting the drawer gently. He then leaned against his chair, pondering to himself. His mind traced back to last night, trying to dig in and recall every movement he had done. But the memories were too fuzzy for him to grab, and all he could remember was holding the maps in his hands. He couldn't remember where he had placed them down, but he knew he always slipped them into the same drawer, every time. Well, apparently, he didn't do it last night.

A small growl of frustration escaped his lips. The captain, Kaos, probably wouldn't be pleased with this news. Actually, he wouldn't be pleased at all. The crew needed the maps in order to navigate their way through the tricky ocean - especially to avoid the once-mythical creatures that lingered out there. Kirle definitely did not want to receive a lecture, or have the blame thrown on him. Making a fist which represented his determination, he rose from his chair and headed over to his bookshelf.

As he swiped his fingers across the wood, a small collection of dust clung onto his index finger. A frown of displeasure appeared onto his face, and he wiped it off, noting that his bookshelf needed some dusting. Placing the thought in the back of his mind, he continued his search, narrowing his eyes to look for the familiar scrolls.

After searching the room in every spot he anticipated the maps were in, there were no maps tucked away. Placing his hand on his hip, he used the other to lightly pinch the bridge of his nose. It was a habit he had developed whenever he was frustrated, stressed, or upset. At times, the crew thought he was merely blocking the smell of the ship from his nose, but later, they'd realize the reason, and brush it off from their minds.

Perhaps Kirle would have to speak with the captain about this. He, being reluctant, slowly moved from outside of his room, placing a hand on the door frame. He knew Kaos was up and about, most likely up on the deck with the other pirates. They were clambering around, shoving and heaving crates and other materials they had in store. The loud noises made it harder for the sailing master to think, and in response, he shut the door. He wouldn't tell Kaos, just yet. Besides, he still had some time to search for the scrolls.

As he crossed the room to head over to the window, he felt his foot brush against something hard, yet light. Hope bounced inside of him as he raised the cloth to reveal the missing maps. Relief flooded him, and he almost let out a loud sigh of happiness. However, it would be immature, and the maps weren't such a big thing, was it? Yet, to him, his mood brightened, and he quickly spread the map out onto his desk. A poorly-done sketch of the lands, oceans, and marks of where the creatures ventured stared back up at the man. His palm pressed against his forehead, pressing several streaks of blonde hair to his skin. His hand was sticky and moist, and it disgusted him. Despite the un-comfortableness, he ignored it, and continued to study the map.

Satisfied, he delicately rolled the maps up, before tucking them under his arm. Pressing gently against the papers, he headed over to his door and opened it, breathing in the familiar and welcoming air of salt and sweat, mixed together with unknown scents. His eyes swept across the area, searching for the black-haired man whom he knew well. Upon seeing the sight of his captain, he scurried over, doing his best to avoid any eye-contacts and the men who worked with the goods.

"Captain," Kirle called, approaching the tall man. He felt a little timid at the moment, before he quickly regained his confidence. He cleared his throat, before continuing, "do you have a preferred area you'd like us to sail to?"

[crystwolf]

(Not sure, I think they do.

By the way, how close is Kirle to Kaos? o3o)

[OreoHeroz]

(( Alright.

I'm not sure. How close would you like him to be with Kaos? Maybe a 6 or 7/10? Since Kaos is a little "coldish". ))

[crystwolf]

(Hahas, around that is fine, then. xD

I'll wait for the others before I post again.~)

[Desert11]

I'm just waiting for Soaring to post and then Kaos. XD))

[SoaringAway]

[I am editting my post. We are also waiting for someone else. -I'll go find her shortly- ]
[Make sure to remember Vask.] -EDIT-

[OreoHeroz]

(( In the meantime, I'll make a new character.

I notice no one is a sailor(? I think no one is not). I'll make one then c: ))

[Edit this later]

[crystwolf]

Yeah, I was going to make a sailor for Soaring's ship, but I'll do it when school's over, i guess. c8)

[Vask]

(*flees in* Sorry I just got home! *violently posts my rp*)


Musty thick air with a sort of cringing smell hung heavy in the air of the supply room. A somewhat moldy wooden clipboard rested in pale nimble hands as a quill flew across the paper, writing various numbers and calculations. This was Max's least favorite part of being Boatswain. Max's hair seemed to strangle her even more in the sweaty supply room, sticking to her mouth and cheeks. The lean female grabbed a loose piece of rope off a nearby desk and tied her hair up in a ponytail.

Giving a small sigh she finished up the last bits of her daily stock check routine and let her arms fall to her sides. Turning sharply, Max grabbed a long sharp sword with a brown leather handle off a hook on the wall, her sword. She heard the familiar slice of the blade as she slide it into its hold on the side of her belt. Walking towards the door of the stock room, her boots made a quiet thumping noise on the wooden boards of the ship. As a Boatswain, her duty was to supervise the maintenance of the vessel and its supply stores. Although not the most glorious job on board, Max did the job and did it exceptionally well.

Max reached out her arm and pushed open the door of the supply room out onto the open deck. Wonderfully cold and salty air flooded her senses, helping her perspiration from the hot sweaty room she had just been in. The familiar grunts of crew members lifting heavy objects and rigging the ship. A few eyes of her male co-workers glanced at her for a moment then quickly back at their job. The female had a feeling some of the lower ranked ship mates were seemingly intimidated by her. Well...what would she expect. The only reason she got onto the ship was by capturing one of their crew members and threatening the Captain.

Shaking her head clear of the thought, the female continued with her daily inspection of the ship. Max would go to each of the areas that mended and attended to the ship, and would ask if there were any problems and made sure that everything was running smoothly. Jotting down the last few notes for the inspection she tucked her quill behind her ear to put away later. Her bright blue eyes slowly scrapped the deck to make sure she didn't forget to check anything. Ah yes, the sails. Max reminded herself.

The female walked purposefully over to where a few crew members working on the sails were chatting. Max felt her dark black hair hit her back gently as she walked across the deck. One of the crew members in the group poked his head out and scurried over to her. He was a short, somewhat fat, man with a clear sweat problem. The mans face was red like a tomato and he was sweating intensely even though the sun was not even at high yet. Max brushed it off and let her words flow out of her mouth, "How are the sails?" The man cleared his throat, "Just fine madam. J-just dandy." Max narrowed her eyes at him. What was this guys deal? Without another word, Max jotted down the regular notes for the sails.

The group of crew members working on the sails were all watching Max and the man talk, looking nervous. Max looked up, and saw the group almost jump at her gaze. What were with them? The fat man in front of her turned and walked somewhat hastily back to the sails and pretended to inspect them. "Hmm..." Max said quietly to herself. She moved forward, heading for the group of sailors. When she got closer she saw them holding a piece of paper. The female came to a stop in front of them, "What's on the paper?" She asked, her stare daringly intimidating. One of the sailors swallowed, his arms shaking. Another leaned over to the sailors ear, "I told you she was the one."

Max frowned, frustrated now. She looked behind her, eyes looking around the deck. All the people on the deck hadn't seemed to notice the conversation going on, and didn't seem to care. Max turned her eyes back on the sailors and snatched the paper out of the mans hands. Raking her eyes over the paper, she saw it was a wanted poster. A wanted poster with a picture of herself on it. One of the sailors must have got it at the last port. She growled and quietly crumpled up the paper, putting it in the inside pocket of her jacket. "You say nothing." Max said before turning and acting as if nothing happened.

Max stopped at one side of the ship, leaning against the side. Cool wind rippled through her hair as she looked ahead at the vast open sea. 

(-Sorry for spelling errors I was typing madly fast-)

[crystwolf]

Huehue, welcome back. Who else is left?)