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 Posted: Thu Sep 01, 2011 2:11 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:26 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:37 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:39 pm
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O L E A N D E R' SxxM A P
AxxV A G U ExxO R I G I NxxS T O R Y
The story of Oleander's Map has been called a wives tale, a drunken sailor's allegory, a lie...
While the recorded history of most sailing ships is unreliable word of mouth and landlubber's hearsay, every sailor with a brain worth picking has a word to say about Varg Oleander, one of the most celebrated adventurers of his time. Varg was a sturdy man with a heart for sailing, and no scholar before him seemed so eager to unravel the mystery of the seas. He was not only a sailor, but a purveyor of many a curious and useful trinket.
A cartographer by trade and a trader by way of the sea, when he wasn't making his fortune hauling exotic treasures from port to port, he was adding to his extensive and sought after library. Varg was not only a smart man but a practiced artist with a reliable memory, and that might be why recreations of his maps are still found in most sailing ships today. But even the brightest of minds go dull with ego, and in time Varg became sloppy.
He never was the same after a tragic miscalculation left his boat adrift in a windless ocean for too long to count. People say it was the seawater that made his brain soggy, and others say it was the staggering realization that he was no god, and even a master of maps can't change the world with a pen and a piece of parchment, no matter how hard he tries. What happened in those many weeks he was gone is a mystery to most.
They found him on the beach, half-dead and blind, clutching a roll of parchment in his withered hands. Those who longed to view the map spread fanciful rumors. Some said it was a map to hell, scrawled in a madman's blood. Others swore it was nothing at all, and Varg held only his desperation as he floated aimlessly for the shore...
☸
When the Cartographer offered Cuthbert a tightly bound sheet of parchment and whimpered something unintelligible, the boy nearly sobbed with joy. The Map Maker's apprentice reached for the blackened hand, grasping at the blank sheet only to feel his jaw gape in disbelief. Nothing. If the old man had found a way, Cuthbert couldn't see it... only lines.
Frantic lines, sometimes straight, most times scrawled in mindless circles that threatened to rip the paper before they found an end. And a blight, thick as mold, across the face of his saving grace. The map smelled ancient. It must have been a useless relic, something lost long ago in the ship's envious library. Something the Cartographer managed to palm while digging for a fresh sheet of paper. He turned away from the man who, even in the stillness of death, was a desperate comfort. Then he heard it... a seagull. A whole flock of Seagulls. The boat staggered as the earth raced up to greet it, nearly knocking Cuthbert from his feet. The apprentice heaved his airy body toward the door, shaking as he undid the lock and pushed the latch open with a salty whine, the faint light of morning burning his eyes.
Fate had brought them home -- but it was too late for the old man. Cuthbert looked back in realization of this horror, twisting the tainted map in his aching hands. Who would lead him now?
✗OLEANDER'S MAP |
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:54 pm
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T H ExxG R I M M
R E G A U R D I N GxxY O U N GxxC U T H B E R TxxT H O R E A U
T H ExxB A S I C S
Name: Cuthbert Thoreau (Kuth-Burt Thoo-Row)
xxxmoniker(s) Bert, Beth
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Marital Status: Single
xxxsignificant relationship(s) None
Region: Clearbarrow, Mishkan - Panymium
House: Currently requesting information from The Fellowship of Mages
Posts In: Cambridge Blue - #A3C1AD
Theme Music: Molokai Shores - Yoshio Owa
P H Y S I C A LxxI N F O R M A T I O N
Hair: Light, sandy brown and windswept.
Eyes: Tired, hazel things that are doomed to glasses far before their time.
Height: 6'1" and slightly hunched.
Build: Soft and unimpressive.
P E R S O N A LxxI N F O R M A T I O N
Likes: The sea and sailing, birds, reading, maps and map-making, the company of his mother, being 'coddled', various chocolates and baked goods, warmth, praise.
Dislikes: Horseplay and men's humor, doing wrong by his family, barbers, uneducated people, the darkness in the world, being ignored, being alone.
According to his mother, Bert should have been born a Beth, and it shows. He's far too gentle for a Thoreau boy, and what he lacks in machismo he more than makes up for with sensitivity. Being the baby in a house of rowdy brothers has hardened Cuthbert to a sailor's wit, but he'd rather run from adversity than put up his fists. He's downright cowardly compared to most, but it's yet to snuff out his desire to sail with the best of them. In all his naivety, Cuthbert used to think the sea were as simple as an illustrated scroll, and despite his best intentions he often relies on that innocent impression of the world to get him by. He's certain he's prepared for whatever the world could throw at him, even in such trying times. Ambitious as he may be, Cuthbert is quick to abandon his responsibilities when curiosity demands it. The boy gets into trouble often and loves to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. Bert is careless at the worst possible times, but his eagerness to please make denying him a second and third chance nearly impossible.
T H ExxF A M I L Y
Mother: Cadence Koelbel
Father: Thane Thoreau
Siblings: Honore Thoreau, Fergus Thoreau, Bastian Thoreau
A Brief History: The youngest of four boys rarely ever goes unnoticed, especially by his Mother, and oh was Cuthbert noticed! So much so that he spent the first five years of his life as 'Sis', learning to read and cook and performing duties that would have been well practiced by a daughter had Mrs. Thoreau been fortunate enough to bare one. Had Cuthbert's father not been swallowed by the sea he surely would have interrupted his wife's well-intentioned coddling, but alas it wasn't to be. Brotherly teasing did little to curtail Cuthbert's sensitivities and he was often seen at the hem of mother's skirt, thumb in mouth and bright eyed, though terribly meek, and she humored him gayly. It wasn't until the boy was of working age that he was pried from his mother's side and sent to the docks with the rest of the Thoreau gang, a proud procession of Sailors since their father's grandfather and then some. Crying got him nowhere without mother around, so the boy managed.
To the brood's surprise, Cuthbert proved himself useful, not so much with brawn and brutishness as with brains. Being a curious lad, the youngest Thoreau one day abandoned piling rope to sneak a peak at a windblown chart and read aloud the directions on the paper to his equally curious brothers, explaining with great passion where the boat was going and approximately when it should arrive there. If the ship's Captain had been in attendance he would have switched all four of the boys for their lollygagging - lucky the fates smiled upon them that day, and they were instead greeted by the ship's Map Maker, a grandfatherly figure who had been seeking out his lost map all afternoon. Sensing Cuthbert's eagerness, he offered the boy a lesson in Geography and Astronomy, and the boy gladly accepted. In just under a year Cuthbert memorized his teacher's maps and could recreate the world on parchment with little more than a quill and good old fashioned memory.
It was only natural that time would make him not only a practical sailor, but a very skilled Map Maker. That's how Cuthbert found himself beneath the Emperors' sail.
✗THE GRIMM |
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:55 pm
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T H ExxP L A G U E
AxxB L I G H TxxC A L L E DxxS A U L
T H ExxB A S I C S
Name: Saul
xxxmoniker(s) None
Age: Unknown
Gender: None
Marital Status: None
xxxsignificant relationship(s) None
Region: From the libraries of Imisus to the shores of unseen lands, this map calls no place home... but for the sake of simplicity we'll call it Mishkan.
House: Undecided
Posts In: Undecided
Theme Music: An Inquest Concerning Teeth - Earth
P E R S O N A LxxI N F O R M A T I O N
Stage: I. Putesco (Inanimate)
Alignment: Neutral
Class: Phasmas
Likes: Being all tightly rolled and stuffed lovingly into Cuthbert's bedside drawer or pocket... he does little else.
Dislikes: Water, fire and other banes of parchment.
Maps are meant to be precise, helpful objects with little room for error, but every map has a maker, and no man is perfect. Sasha may be observant, but this attention to detail is wasted on a single-minded Plague. He rationalizes everything and has little knowledge of empathy, instead relying on humor to get him by. Imbued with the worldly eye of his creator, the Plague's impeccable memory and natural leadership make him useful company, but his ego often sets the duo back a few paces. Unfortunately for Cuthbert, Sasha's very nature has taught him that what he says goes, and not even his Grim can change his mind.
✗THE PLAGUE |
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:56 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:58 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:59 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 3:59 pm
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P O S S E S S I O N S
K N I C KxxK N A C K SxxA N DxxS T U N T E D S
P H I N E U S.
A stunted Plague in a bottle affectionately referred to as Fin. He belongs to Cuthbert and serves as a lazy, though dutiful, paperweight.
R U E B E N.
A wee plague birthed from a candle, one which mysteriously appeared at Cuthbert's windowsill one chilly October morning. It seems to be a good omen and is very concerned with the health of the household.
A L A B A S T E R.
This plague-kin keeps the house smelling faintly of vanilla, key to keeping the rotting smell of the map out of Mother's nose and thus keeping her from begging Cuthbert to throw it out every other day. He seems playful, gentle and very kind, though wary of strangers.
E M E R Y.
This stunted appeared one night after a particularly busy tide. He is rarely seen within the house, taking instead to the shadows. He refuses to give Cuthbert his name and represents great anxiety to the poor boy.
H I L L Y.
A sweet creature by nature, she claims to be sent by lady Mildred in the spirit of good tidings. She smells of musk and pastries.
F U R S E Y.
This stunted arrived shortly after Hilly and, like Rueben, totes himself as a good omen.
✗POSSESSIONS |
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 4:00 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 4:02 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 4:03 pm
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N O T E S
P R O M P T SxxA N DxxS U C H
Winning Prompt[color=white]
PROMPTPrompt #/Section: Unfortunately, it just so happens that your Guardian seems to have strayed from his or her usual path and has been led astray-- you two are, dare say, lost! Guide your Guardian and yourself out of this rather frustrating situation, and prove that your skills match your birthright. A map of any shape and form must be able to hold information of places to go-- seas to reach, boundaries to pass, cities to travel... and you must never forget your origins.
Prompt:
"I fear I'll have to kill myself to escape you."
Cuthbert's family had all but disowned him since that map had grown a pair of legs and began barking orders at anyone who'd listen, and while the Grim was sure he deserved an apology, Sasha would never agree to such a dishonor. He hadn't seen his Mother in weeks, and as a man who'd spent the best years of his life at that woman's skirt, her shoulder was almost too much to bare. Bert had spent all evening with his face buried in his palms and Sasha bobbing at his feet, offering little support. While the Plague couldn't see himself at fault for his Grim's simple-minded kin, he understood that Cuthbert wasn't the woeful type and he had a duty to appease the man. Fortunately, what he lacked in sympathy he made up for in rhetoric.
"Really, Cuthbert." Sasha began, pacing around the man's chair as he berated him. "If you had a pistol, you'd forget to buy bullets."
The man's shoulders quivered as he pressed himself even deeper into his palms. "I never should have picked up that map." He mumbled, but Sasha paid little attention to his meaning.
"Not only that," He continued, pulling at Bert's sleeve until their eyes met. "The ocean is far too wet to walk into. Wouldn't want to get wet, now, would you?"
Cuthbert winced at the Plague's teasing.
Months had passed and still this demon, a haunting reminder of his past and of the blight still raging in the streets, startled him with those glowing eyes. This Plague was the cause of all his woe, but Sasha couldn't hope to understand exclusion. After all, he was born of desperation, and in desperation he flourished -- he would do as he was meant to do and lead his guardian from temptation, even if the otherwise jovial man was nothing but talk.
"Please, Bert, that blathering old woman would be lost without you." Sasha spat in his impatient way, extending a tiny hand to his Grim, a touch that stung with pity.
Cuthbert imagined a candle on the horizon. Hope slid gracefully in clumps from it's burning wick and smoldered silently upon the waves. He knew just as well as the Plague did that this tide would turn. His mother was just as lost as he was, and they needed one another. It was the way of the world, and he was doing little more than making himself feel guilty by burdening Sasha with his fleeting sensitivities.
"It's morning." Said the Plague, gesturing to the window. "Aren't you tired of whining yet?"
Hazel eyes dragged their way up the wall and out the open shades, from which spilled in the purple haze of dawn. Just beyond the wharf, Seagulls were crying. The young Grim carried himself to the window, leaning into the salty breeze and mocking the beautiful totems that graced great ships. A defeated yawn fogged the glass, and Sasha was sure his job was done.
✗NOTES |
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 4:03 pm
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Posted: Fri Sep 02, 2011 4:04 pm
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