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Introduction [You are HERE]

The Sundered Skies

Character Creation

Accepted Characters







"There's something in the void. We don't know what it is, but it's coming. And now the Skies are falling. Our skies are falling!"


These were the last words of a dying monk as his home, an island called Salem, fell into the depths. There had been no warning, just constant, echoing, deep clicks... and shadows in the void. Salem had been a spiritual haven for priests and priestesses to dwell on messages from their gods. The news rocked the Skies. Rumors spiraled out of control almost immediately, varying dramatically from world to world as sailors refused to fly their ships. A glowmad uprising, an angry and forgotten god, and the inevitable collapse of the Draining Sea were among them, but none could be further from the truth. A single survivor, a petrified Elf priestess named Aersa Rosethorn, is the only known creature to escape the cataclysm. She uttered the words of the monk and then fell silent. She has not spoken since.


Absolutely none of this deters the captain and crew of the pirate ship Bloodfall Blade, who continue to sail from ruin to ruin trying to make a living on scavenged treasures. The ship itself is falling apart, and how else are they going to keep this cantankerous old steamer together? Little do they know that their efforts to survive will tie their destinies with that of a rising god, a malevolent force of darkness, and perhaps the very Skies themselves.





Welcome to Sundered Skies: Fall of Salem. This is a semi-advanced/advanced roleplay based on the Savage Worlds Tabletop RPG setting of the same name. It is a genre known as dark fantasy; think post-apocalyptic Tolkein, mixed with a bit of Joss Whedon's Firefly. In this roleplay, you and your mates will float from rock to rock, trying to survive in the wreckage of a shattered world. How will you do this? That's up to you. Just be aware... sometimes the weak don't survive out here.


Note that this world is very complex, and requires a lot of reading before joining. You don't have to remember everything, though, so don't worry! Everything is on the front page for reference. A great deal of it is just building the world. This is also a semi-lit RP that focuses heavily on character building, plot and subplot creation, and overall world exploration. If you're into working with other players to build complex and unique character relationships and fun subplots, this is the roleplay for you!




1. All Dragcave rules apply.

2. If we had any say, y'all could cuss to your hearts' content, but this isn't the place for that, and it might make some folk uncomfy. Keep it PG-13, and keep the swearing under control.

3. No godmodding, no mary sues, etc...

4. Be nice to people. Some people are skittish or sensitive, and we want this to be a safe space for them.

5. Reply length needs to be at least five sentences. It's cool if you're not used to that, just let us know and we can give you some tips!

6. What the admins say goes. This isn't a big one because we are really relaxed and cool with almost anything, but it needs to be said.

7. There is no character limit! We encourage you to make different kinds of characters and explore new ideas. Diversity is great and, if you have an idea, I'll gladly work with you to accomodate your needs.

8. Have fun with this. The setting might seem heavily structured, but this is because we snagged it from a tabletop RPG. If you have an idea for this world and you think it would work, absolutely message me about it, and if I feel it fits, consider it canon!


Important Non-Rules

We give cookies to people who have seen Firefly. Just saying.

Edited by oddinomaly

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The Sundered Skies

Quoted portions are exerpts from the Sundered Skies Rulebook, used with permission!


The Sundered Skies began when another world died.


Millenia ago, a terrible cataclysm shattered a world. What remained was an unknown number of islands floating in a fathomless void. Millions perished in the Sundering, and hundreds of thousands more died during the chaos that followed. Despite the horrors of these times, the races of elf, dwarf, man, orc, and drakin--aided by mostly benevolent gods--survived and flourished in this strange new world.


Now, skyships fly between islands, allowing trade, travel, exploration, and the salvaging of artifacts and material from the pre-Sundering age. Skyship crews face dangerous weather, pirates and more, while scavengers of ancient ruins often face the undead and other, darker creatures. The churches of the Skies bring together worshippers to pay homage to the gods. The powerful and bureaucratic Trade Council enforces a sky-wide peace, turning a blind eye to several small, clandestine wars continuing in the shadows. Meanwhile, mysterious and arcane secret societies hatch their baleful plans.


Sundered Skies is still a dangerous place.




The Bloodfall Blade is an aging Dwarven steamer that has been retrofitted countless times so that it resembles a (somewhat mangled) human ship. It's about average-size, made mostly of old iron and bronze pieces. There's the odd brass or steel piece here and there, as the captain will take what parts she can get. It has a comfortable, homey feel to those who have been around long enough.


The ship itself has three levels below deck, which are connected via a fancy staircase in the center of the ship. Note that this staircase was not an original part of the ship... and was stolen from some mansion that may or may not have already been falling apart. The lowermost level is a cargo bay, with an access port on the bottom of the ship in case quick disposal of contraband goods is necessary. Boilers, the fuel of the ship, are located here. This is also where engineers tend to hang around, as most of their work is found in the bowels of the ship.


The one directly above that is a galley with a well-stocked kitchen, a dining area, and multiple little nooks and crannies for part storage and relaxation. This is also where the cannons are kept. The walls are lined with hatches latched shut until battle.


The topmost level, despite being closest to the glowlight, is where the crew sleeps. It is filled with a hilarious abundance of cushions, as well as hammocks, the odd mattress, and sometimes entire beds. The captain's quarters are located here.


The deck is made of wood. The panels are interlocked tightly to keep the glow out of the levels below. The navigation unit, an elaborately carved wheel, is located at the back. Random crates, ropes, and other parts are strewn about haphazardly; this is not a tidy crew. Two old smokestacks jut out from the center of the deck (the staircase entrance being between them). Oddly enough, they aren't the only things that do. The ship also has sails, a result of spending a large amount of time adrift without engine power. They remain so that the crew can rely on the winds when low on fuel.





There's an unknown number of islands floating through the void. Those that are known range in size from only large enough for a single tower to so large that they can contain multiple cities. It is unknown how they manage to float and even orbit one another. Many consider it the work of the gods, while others claim there is a magical mineral that keeps them in the air. Most, however, choose not to question their good fortune and go on with their days.


Though rare, islands can fall from their positions. They can either crash into a lower island or, perhaps even worse, disappear into the endless void. This phenomenon is called "landfall". It usually happens without warning, though occasionally inhabitants of their island can predict it through tremors or smaller falls.


It is also possible for islands to collide. The city of Spire was destroyed in a catastrophic collision with a previously unknown isle seventy years ago. The disaster killed thousands and prompted the formation of The Sons of Spire, a group of sorcerers who scour the void seeking rogue isles, anxious to prevent another disaster.


The islands that are inhabited are thankfully spared from destructive cosmic winds, which are known to blow at extraordinary speeds and to scour an island clean, leaving nothing but wind-eroded bedrock. Every so often a vortex forms, a permanent tornado that represents a navigational hazard strong enough to tear islands apart.





The spaces between these islands are filled with aforementioned winds, propelling skyships forward with incredible speed. However, these spaces tend to be empty, and many times sailors see nothing for days on end. Such are the distances between islands.... Great swaths of the void are bathed in a constant glow of orange light, which comes from... everywhere. It is caused by a luminescent dust called the voidlight. Voidlight has some alarming properties, to say the least. Sentient humanoid creatures don't cast shadows. However, structures, trees, and even islands do. There is something deeply unsettling about looking down and finding you do not even have the company of your own shadow.


This is most definitely the least of travelers' worries, however. It is a known fact that prolonged exposure to the glow can change you. This change is called "glowmadness", and it is a degenerative condition that causes rage and uncontrollable aggression. If unchecked, it can even alter the biology of the afflicted. It turns them into a bestial, hate-filled savage that cannot be restored to their original state. Once you are glowmad, you are glowmad for the rest of your days. However, certain types of creatures are immune to glowmadness. Dragons, animals, non-humanoid sentient creatures and artificial life-forms are known to be unaffected by this illness, and can operate in the void as long as they wish.


Each humanoid individual can handle a different period of exposure to the voidlight before falling to the glowmadness. To avoid this, they adopt sleep cycles. They spend their sleep cycles as far from direct voidglow as possible, as any exposure carries slight risk. Almost all sky-faring travelers carry a sleeping bag made of heavy canvas to avoid the glow's maddening effects.


As you can see, voyages from island to island are wrought with peril, as even going outside carries risks. Can you take them?


The Creatures of the Void



Behemoths are huge sky whales. They are typically peaceful and shy, but are known to be vicious and dangerous opponents when threatened. They generally resemble the whales of our world, with bioluminescent markings, and much more skeletal fins. They are known to tip ships into the void with their flukes.


Blight Walker

Glowmad elves become hideous plant-elf hybrids with bark-like skin. Roots burrow under their skin and blossom into disgusting, horrible flowers that quickly die away. They reek of decomposition. Their touch kills any plant instantly, and withers anything made of wood.



Humans who have had the misfortune of going glowmad become scaly-skinned beasts. Their eyes have been replaced by voidlight, and yet... they still somehow know where you are. They are capable of incredible leaps, which they use to make attacks on their unsuspecting victims. They are the most common type of glowmad, and possibly the most terrifying.



Bloodflies resemble bumblebees, except with oversized mandibles. They travel in enormous swarms, devouring everything in their path. Derelict ships drift through the void, populated only by the scoured skeletons of their unfortunate crews.



Attaining dragonhood is the life goal of every Chosen Drakin. They are the leaders of the Drakin race. Many are powerful sorcerers, but the true extent of their power is often exaggerated. They are capable of sensing supernatural entities and objects within sight. They can breathe intense flames which often destroy ships in one fell swoop.



Drakes are cunning, stealthy and dangerous. They're notably dragon-like, but they are about the size of the average orc. They inhabit the ruins of the Shattered City, but rumors say that they've begun to spread to other isles. Only time will tell.



Glowmad dwarves become ugly, hairless, mole-like creatures. They have tiny eyes and enormous claws which they use to burrow. Earthbanes are known for being light sensitive--bursts of magical light are best used against them in combat. They're terrifying in their abilities; they destroy earth and stone with a wave of sickly energy, and can destabilize an entire island within weeks.



Ferals are much larger, less intelligent forms of Wildlings. They are forged from aggressive and vicious creatures, and are difficult to control. Ferals are fairly rare, as they often aren't intelligent enough to seek freedom from their elven masters.


Fog Shark

Fog sharks are sky-dwelling predatory beasts. They're notably fish-like in appearance. They are fast, deadly creatures. Fog sharks get their name from their ability to create a fog bank, which they use to confuse their prey.



The Skies are full of ghosts. Most are weak and unable to manifest themselves, but some have either a malevolent will or a compelling need to complete unfinished business. Not all are evil, but most are wary of them regardless. They are immaterial, and can only be harmed by magical attacks. They are also repelled by iron and salt.



Ghouls fashion weapons out of their own dismembered body parts. Their touch paralyzes their victims and causes grievous wounds. They are humanoid in nature, which makes their choice of weapon even more eerie. They can repair any self-inflicted wound by cannibalizing their victims.



Glimmerwings travel in enormous, nearly invisible flocks. Their wings concentrate and reflect voidglow. They consume everything in their path, attacking by making hundreds of tiny cuts on their victims. The concentrated voidglow that surrounds them can cause their opponents to feel the effects of glowmadness much sooner than normal.


Madness Hulk

Madness hulks are skyships populated by glowmad that have recovered some sentience. They travel the skies wreaking havoc on whichever poor crew isn't fast enough to get out of their way. They can cloak themselves in the glow, and use this to pounce on unsuspecting ships.



*Unique to this RP

These are void-dwelling birds known for their decomposed appearance and stench. They're deadly, terrifying creatures that resemble eagles. Their eyes gleam red in the void. Necroraptors travel in small flocks. They are considered omens of death.



Ogres are glowmad orcs that have been transformed into giants with huge potbellies and massive, powerful limbs. They are the least intelligent of the glowmad varieties and, as a result, are the most easily tamed... so long as their energies are directed towards mayhem.



The flesh has already rotted from these animated corpses. They are fast, agile, and cunning. Skeletons are known for their desire to strip the flesh from their victims to create others like themselves. They are purely malevolent, and cannot be bargained with.


Spined Brute

Spined brutes are fearsome, ape-like creatures covered in thick, bony white spines that protrude from their skin. They are in constant pain and take it out on the unfortunate souls around them. They feed by absorbing their prey's vital fluids through their spines.


Swarm Mage

Swarm mages are huge clouds of bloodflies which have achieved a demonic intelligence. They usually take a humanoid form to strike fear in the hearts of their enemies. They speak in warbled, deep, rumbling words.



Wyrmspawn are glowmad drakin. They have become savage dragon-men over six feet tall, with hardened, metallic scales. Leathery wings sprout from their backs, and their feet and hands sprout enormous claws. They have an all-consuming greed for magical artifacts.





Skyship design varies with the culture that created them, but all have framework made of liftwood that enables them to remain airborne. Dwarven ships are often driven by steam and are clad in heavy metal armor, with small windows on each side for their heavy cannons. Elvish ships--like the elves themselves--are very organic-looking and, unlike other cultures, are grown rather than built. Their sails are canopies made of leaves that catch the wind. Drakin ships are distinctive, as they are designed to honor their dragon kin; as such they are typically propelled by a pair of huge draconic wings. Orcish ships are large, with enormous galleys, and are rowed by goblin slaves. Humans are mostly known to build sailing ships, though they pride themselves on using hybrid designs.


Skyship navigation is different from anything on our world. They make their way through the void from island to island using mysterious scrying devices called wayspheres--heavy crystal globes filled with magically charged water, and with a flint-tipped arrow suspended at their center. Wayspheres are unique to their ships, and are linked to them during the launching ceremonies.


Every ship has a navigator; a person aboard the ship with a collection of rocks from every island they've ever been to. A rock from the desired destination is carried with them for up to thirteen hours before the waysphere can determine where the crew wants to go. Navigators have unique connections with their wayspheres, and are often the only ones who can use them.





The Sundered Skies are built on a culture of trade. No island is self-sufficient, as each produces different goods and services that are of use to others. They all rely on imported materials from other isles. Hundreds of years ago, many wars waged across the void over waning resources and trade conflicts.


After about 100 years, the wars finally slowed to a halt. Truces were called as people tried to understand what had caused such chaotic conflict. As time went on, the people in power--namely political, religious and commercial figures--took steps to ensure a similar tragedy must never be allowed to happen again.


Thus appeared the Trade Council.


Each island is a sovereign state, with rulers defined by their government style. Rulers can pass laws and edicts without other islands intervening (largely because of a general isolationist attitude among isles). The Trade Council does not get involved as a rule, though if one island passes a law or initiates action that threatens the peace of the Skies, they will settle the conflict using diplomacy... or its own military might.


That being said, most of the Council's work is centered on organizing the spread of food and water to remote islands, bankrolling the surveyors and mapmakers of the void, and arbitrating trade disputes. It tends to be a dull job.


Only the rich consider the Trade Council to be a success. Those who are middle-class or poverty stricken have a much lower opinion on the matter....





Though the void is teeming with life, finding and harvesting enough to feed an island is a tricky business and requires constant effort. Enormous flocks of avian creatures known as skylers roam the Skies, seldom touching land. Strange, rootless plants draw sustenance from the air, and are blown wherever the winds take them.


As opposed to independent military forces, nearly all inhabited islands maintain fleets of ships that constantly prowl the skies, nets cast for miles to collect food. These ships call themselves trawlers. It's a very dangerous job. Ships have a tendency of disappearing. Most consider this to be the work of pirates, predators, or something else. Because of this, and the vitality of their role, the payment is impressive... which unfortunately makes them an even bigger target for those looking for cash.


Almost all ships that fly through the void have nets to feed their crews. On occasion they catch a surplus, and on these occasions an extra bit of cash can be expected, as there's usually an enthusiastic buyer at the next port.


It is worth noting that many inhabitants of larger islands support the cultivation of edible fungi on underisles--islets constantly in the shade of the main island they orbit. Because of this, on many heavily populated islands, fungi make up a large portion of the inhabitants' diets. They also harvest whatever plants or animals their climate can support. Note that nothing goes to waste in the Sundered Skies; the dead are buried on the same underisles that the fungi are harvested on. Nothing like making Grandpa into fertilizer so that you can have lunch.





While the Skies seem boundless (and indeed, they may be), there are laws of altitude. The altitude of an island dictates its climate. Those islands found at higher altitudes are frigid tundra, desolate steppes, or icy mountains. The lowermost islands are windswept deserts, rain forests, dank swamps, or even active volcano ranges. The most inhabited islands are in the middle, where the temperature is not particularly extreme.


Nobody has ever discovered the limits of the Sundered Skies... if any exist. Sailing too high above the Draining Sea can cause the ship's hull to split and spill its crew into the void. The air there is too thin to survive, so death is certain. Sailing too deep causes the air to warm, the wood to smolder, and the iron to glow cherry red. The ship must retreat from the depths... or burst into flame. The Dwarven citadel, Deepsky, is as deep as a ship can safely go.


Most isles regulate voidlight control on a house-to-house basis. The trade council has made housing regulations requiring that houses must be well-insulated and fit together to block out voidlight, and that each house must have what are called window blockers. These are simply well-fitted panels for each window in the house, and are put into the window and then have canvas stuffed in around them to block out any last bits of voidlight. Many houses are charmed with the strange light the Drakins have discovered, so that their occupants may stay awake if they like without any voidlight exposure. Candles, of course, are also used, but charm lighting produces more light.


[final paragraph by mngwa]




The Islands of the Skies



Got an idea for an island? Message one of the admins and we can add it! It will be unique to this RP, and a possible destination for your characters.



*Unique to this RP [from Evil sethoss]


Scarce: Building materials, metals, vanity items

Abundant: Books and scrolls, magic items


Academia is a small island that is most famous for its library, which has housing, a small farm, magic water pumps and various other rooms. Many scholars go there to study or to do research. The library was originally started by a now extinct race. There are many articles written in unknown languages that have yet to be translated.




Scarce: No Trade Allowed

Abundant: No Trade Allowed


This island has been blockaded by the Trade Council. Council ships patrol its shores, both to stop scavengers from trying to steal artifacts from the ruins left by multiple wars, and to monitor the population of glowmad that inhabit it.


This is a terrifying isle. Nothing casts a shadow here, and there's enough voidlight to drive anyone mad within hours. No shelter can be found here. However, there's plenty of cogs to be made... if you can get to the treasures, that is.



*Unique to this RP [from beinintian]


Scarce: No Trade Allowed

Abundant: No Trade Allowed


Perhaps one of the most unnerving ruins in the Skies, Braking is inhabited solely by unknown creatures that can be heard hissing and slithering in its depths. An underground city, flooded with waist-deep stagnant water, encompasses the isle. Perhaps the most bizzare find on this isle is the obsidian block etched with smooth, unknown runes. Even stranger, every empty home has smooth silver panel, all of them smaller versions of a larger slate that keeps a wall up.




Scarce: Metal

Abundant: Cloth, Education


Bridgeways is not a single island; rather many linked together by ancient stone bridges. This is the most diverse island in the skies; every race has a home here, though the majority is human. This island is also scoured by high winds, meaning the wind chill is extreme. Many who visit this place need several layers of clothing to keep warm.


Clunker Station*

*Unique to this RP [from Evil sethoss]


Scarce: Fresh food and water, clean air

Abundant: Scrap metal, oil


Clunker station was the first artificial island. It is very small and was built by dwarves. In order to float it has to produce a large amount of smoke and burn oil. The dwarves consider it a success, while the elves consider it a terrible monster. It's heavily abandonded these days; only about 12 dwarves live there as a janitor crew.



*Unique to this RP [from Evil sethoss]


Scarce: Metal, technology

Abundant: Food, water, wood


Consle is an island separate from those run by the Trade Council. It is ruled by a king elected by the nobles who inhabit the island. It floats near Heartland and, much like the larger island, is a fertile paradise. It has uniquely advanced technology, though accessing it is nearly impossible.


Dragon's Spine


Scarce: Nothing... that we know of.

Abundant: Building materials


The Drakin home isle is named after its narrow, mountainous shape. Few are permitted to travel beyond the forbidding walls of the Foreign Quarter. Those who are find scattered drakin communities cut into the rock. There are many statues of dragons here.




Scarce: Weapons

Abundant: Wood


Heartland is the largest inhabited island in the Skies. The Elves consider it to be the living manifestation of their god, and so protect it from harm diligently. It is covered in thick forests, guarded by various mystical creatures that would do harm to those who seek to enter them. In the center of the isle is Leaflord, a 1,000 foot tall oak thought to be the manifestation of the elven god's power. The elven royal court lives here.


Freedom Isle


Scarce: Education, building materials

Abundant: Wood


Originally called Jorvan, this was initially one of the most sparsely inhabited islands in the Skies. However, it was given to the newly emerging glowborn race as a homeisle so that they could flesh out their sense of identity and community. The Elves have political and commercial control over the entire glowborn community, and have imposed their "councilors" upon the glowborn rulers.




Scarce: None

Abundant: None


This is the bureaucratic haven of the Skies. The city is home to the Trade Council. The city of Shadowhaven encompasses the entire island. The buildings here are odd; they lean towards each other across the street, casting most of its pedestrians in shadow so that they are shielded from the voidlight.


Star Crater Isle


Scarce: No Trade Allowed

Abundant: No Trade Allowed


Like Aria, this isle has been blockaded by the Council. It was originally the home of an ancient city called Spire that was destroyed by a rogue island colliding into it. A star-shaped wound dominates the isle where the city once was. It is lined with obsidian, which concentrates and reflects voidlight. There is nothing here for anyone... only death.


The Ice Isles


Scarce: Agriculture, cloth

Abundant: Weapons


The higher a ship climbs, the colder it gets. Eventually it ices up and crashes, and that is how the settlers of the Ice Isles came to be. This is a frozen, unforgiving place. Anyone who ventures here needs specially made clothing to keep from becoming a popsicle.


The Draining Sea


Scarce: Wood, building materials

Abundant: Weapons


The highest known island in the skies is actually a massive iceberg. Forces within cause chunks of ice to splinter from it and melt. The falling water creates a cosmic waterfall that descends onto lower islands as snow or rain. These icefalls are known as Runoff Falls. This is a very inhospitable place, as explorers face brutal windstorms and ice elementals. Those who come here rarely return.




Scarce: Metal, education

Abundant: Wood


Canopy is known for a huge ice forest that is safe and mostly free of predators. It is a quiet isle, with few inhabitants except for loggers. Several wildling communities live here.


Meeting Place


Scarce: Cloth, weapons

Abundant: Ship parts


A permanent floating city made up from tethered skyships, the Meeting Place is an Engineer's dream come true. This is where nomadic Orcs meet and trade goods, as well as take on passengers and restock their vessels. Many of these ships were captured by Orc pirates before they set aside those practices.


The Lower Reaches


Scarce: Wood

Abundant: Metal


The lower altitudes of the Skies are hot and oppressive, and these isles are no different. The only hospitable places here are the Dwarven darkhomes: hollow, barren islands containing Dwarven cities. The most notable of these darkhomes is the Deepsky Citadel, the lowest inhabited isle. Below the Citadel is the Flaming Skies, the incredibly hot hell zone where no ship dares to tread.


Mount Ore


Scarce: Wood

Abundant: Metal


The Skies' primary source of metal, Mount Ore's only major harbor is Ironport. The other settlements on this island are built around individual seams of ore, and tend to be difficult to access, as the only method of reaching them are on foot.




Scarce: Weapons

Abundant: Agriculture


Plenty is known as the Breadbasket of the Skies. It is less than a mile from the Runoff Falls and, as such, is blessed with constant rain and frequent harvests. Most ships that pass through this area are swamped, crushed, or sent spinning out of control by the force of the water. Grain barges, however, are specially constructed to make it out without difficulty, and are responsible for spreading Plenty's harvests throughout the Skies.


The Shattered City


Scarce: Agriculture

Abundant: Building Materials


Before the Sundering, the Shattered City was one enormous metropolis. Now all that remains is a vast field of drifting smaller isles, each bearing small parts of a once magnificent city. Many brave souls explore this place, hoping to discover hidden treasures and artifacts. Unfortunately, the ruins are home to fearsome monsters, undead horrors, evil pirates, and worse. Few who come here return.


The Void


The void is the fathomless, vast space between islands. It is filled in most places with the ever-present, maddening glow.

Edited by oddinomaly

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Character Creation



Playable Races


In this game, there are multiple playable races. They are listed below, complete with traits and general descriptions to give you an idea of what you're getting into!



Drakin worship and serve the dragons that inhabit the Sundered Skies. They dwell mainly on a long, narrow island called Dragon's Spine, where they carve their homes in the very bedrock that makes up the island. Only a small portion of their cities appear above ground, and the ones that do are decorated with carvings and statues of their larger bretheren and rulers.


Though quiet and friendly to other races, Drakin are known to be secretive, and tend to only welcome foreigners into one city on Dragon's Spine (aptly named the Foreign Quarter!). It is said they have hidden wealth, though no one knows for certain.


Hatchlings are taught the lore of their dragon rulers from the day they break free of their shell. Their education is based heavily on the triumphs and defeats of past wars. When a hatchling shows a high level of aptitude, the Elders take them into hidden temples. There they become one of the Chosen. Chosen who show great skill, wisdom and luck, have the potential to become dragons themselves. Many drakin choose to travel the Skies, seeking their place in the world. The elders look down on this, despite their own youthful follies.


The transformation from drakin to dragon is long. Most non-drakin in the Skies are completely unaware of the link between their lizard companions and the great, fire-breathing beasts of legend. Even those who are informed scoff at the idea. They consider drakin with draconic features to be nobles among their own people.


Physical Features


Drakin are typically sleight of build, and are notably quite small. The average Drakin is about four feet tall. They are reptillian and thus have no hair, though some have brightly colored feathers. They vary in color from white through deep red to a metallic bronze or gold, and rarely silver.


Lifespan: 80-100 years, the Chosen live much, much longer.





Technology is the dwarven domain. They are craftsmen, engineers, and miners. These are a people known to create some of the best goods in all of the Skies. They hail from communities known as darkhomes, the most famous of which is Mount Ore, a vast mountain rich in metal.


The heart of the Dwarven race is Deepsky Citadel, located somewhere in the depths of the lower reaches of the void. Deepsky is hard to find for those who are not experienced in navigation, for its stones are only found in the navigator hall of Mount Ore. The Citadel is home to King Bloodaxe's court and The Factory, the holiest of Dwarven temples.


All dwarves venerate the Artificer, whom they worship as Lord of Invention. Deepsky houses the god itself, and most dwarves there have spoken to it at least once in their long lives.


Dwarves are highly pragmatic. They are physically suited to hard labor and war-craft. Those few dwarves who study magic almost always follow the elemental tradition, favoring spells that manifest as fire and earth.

King Bloodaxe tries to maintain cordial relations with most other races of the Skies. The dwarves distrust the Elves in general, but are not alone in doing so. Occassionally, ancient disputes with the Orcs also flare up.


Unfortunately, the birth rate has declined alarmingly over the past few centuries. The nurseries of Deepsky are currently empty.


Dwarves divide themselves by clans. Each clan has its own craft, many specializing in branches of blacksmithing, carpentry, stonemasonry, or brewing. Clans with similar crafts compete aggressively and occasionally wage small wars. Ties among clanmates are very strong.


Physical Features


Dwarves are stocky. They rarely breach five feet in height. They tend to have ruddy skin and dark hair. Almost every male dwarf sports a beard and takes great pride in it. They are known for their exceptionally complex and beautiful braid and beaded patterns.


Lifespan: Often exceeding 250 years



The Elves of the skies are far different from anything you'd expect to see in modern fantasy. They live on the lush isle of Heartland, the largest known inhabited landmass. They are skilled at caring for plants, and have made themselves the guardians of the isle's deciduous forests, which both provide for and hide their communities. Elves grow their homes on the boughs of trees using a magic known only to the highest ranked of their kind (known as Leafwardens).


Elves worship the Wild, believing that the isle of Heartland is its avatar. Leaflord, seen as a manifestation of their god's power, stands at the center of the island. It is surrounded by the Royal Willow Court, the seat of the reclusive Willow Queen. Nestled in the roots of Leaflord is the Fleshforge, the main temple to the Wild. Here the Elves create their slave race, Wildlings. Wildlings are used for a variety of tasks, varying from domestic servitude to becoming guards.


While Elves export timber and foodstuffs at extreme discounts, few take them up on these offers, as they come with some pretty substantial strings attached. Elves will send missionaries who cultivate groves of Heartland trees, which are feared, for they allow the Wild to take root. Many fear the Wild because of its mysterious nature.


Elves treat their Wildling slaves as property, which is one of the factors contributing to the other races' distrust of them. They are willing to use and dispose of these creatures as needed. Most other races are horrified at the conditions in which Wildlings work and die.


Not all Elves are slavedrivers, however. Boughbreakers work in secret to free Wildlings from slavery and overturn the monarchy of the Willow Queen. Their enemies, the Oakthorn, provide the majority of the Willow Queen's military force, and actively hunt down those who free Wildlings from enslavement. Whose side are you on?


Physical Features


Elves are naturally tall, usually about six feet on average. They are always thin and gangly, with an almost plantlike air about them. Their hair tends to be brown, black, or dark green, and their skin tones are varying shades of green.


Lifespan: Elves can live up to 300 years.



Humans are the most numerous race in the skies. They primarily inhabit Shadowhaven, with Plenty running a close second. They are incredibly adaptive and live on just about every colonized island out there. Because of their adaptive nature they've inherited the best and worst traits of other races. They can be as inventive as Dwarves but just as stubborn, as clever as Wildlings but just as cruel, as graceful and zealous as Elves, as singleminded and aggressive as Orcs, or as curious and insular as Drakin.


Every religion in the Skies has human worshippers, though they don't get any arcane benefits from their gods. Nearly every human is religious to some degree.


Humans maintain cordial relations with other races. There is occasional friction from misunderstanding or trading disputes, but the race as a whole is largely peaceful. Unlike most other races, humans are not very tactful or skilled in learning other languages, and so misunderstandings and accidental cultural offenses are common.



Physical Features


Humans come in a wide variety, though most have coffee-colored skin and dark hair. Their eyes can range from brown to green to blue to gold, and in rare cases, violet.


Lifespan: Humans live about 70 years on average.



Orcs were once a nomadic, pirate race that were feared across the Skies. They used to raid villages from warships, or war-rafts: hamlets made up of skyships that were tethered together to create miniature sky-faring islands. However, the race gave up this way of life long ago. They remain aggressive and quick to anger, but now live in something resembling peace with other races. Occasionally a small group of orcs will return to these ways and quickly gain notoriety, as other races are not so quick to forget their old ways.


Though most Orcs have returned to their home in the upper altitudes, a few remain nomadic. They travel on rafts comprised of skyships that have been tethered together. The Meeting Place is the most popular known place among them. It's the largest raft; so large it is considered one of the original islands.


All Orcs worship the Battlelord, whose lust for battle appears greatly to their appreciation of both mayhem and honor. They believe it was the Battlelord who commanded them to end their raiding ways and begin a more honorable life. Even so, Orcs consider themselves to be warriors above all other things, even before parents. They favor large melee weapons, old models of crossbows, and heavy, clunky armor. While they are not traditionally a race gifted in the arcane arts, Orcs tend to lean towards spells that manifest as heat and steam.


Physical Features


Orcs are more than six feet tall. They have leathery, wrinkled skin of mottled greens and browns. Their most notable feature, large incisors, jut out between their lips. Their hair is always black, though many youthful pirates have taken to dyeing it, as their ancestors once did. They are also always powerfully built, easily topping three hundred pounds.



Lifespan: 70-90 years.



Wildlings are created by the Wild in the Fleshforge in the roots of Leaflord, the Elven seat of royalty. They are formed from the souls and the bodies of animals and made into small humanoids. Their faces and bodies reflect their ancestry; many still maintain the eyes, fur, and even muzzles of what came before them. They have no memory of being made, and are taught what they need to know by other Wildlings.


Because they were made to be slaves, Wildlings are often treated badly by Elves (even the ones who don't own them). They are retained if they are entertaining or useful, but are casually disposed of when they are deemed no longer good for labor. The life of a captive Wildling is harsh, filled with unnecessary beatings, and often short.


There are societies that are organized around freeing Wildlings. The most well-known is actually of Elven origin: they call themselves Boughbreakers, and Wildling freedom is part of their plan to overthrow the Willow Queen. Once free from their harsh enslavement on Heartland, Wildlings discover one thing they hold above all other races: they do not suffer from glowmadness.


Most free Wildlings live life on the run, often resorting to adventuring and scavenging on pirate ships. There are some settlements on remote islands scattered throughout the Skies, but they are considered "easy targets" for bounty hunters, and are avoided by outsiders.


Wildlings await the appearance of their prophecised savior, the Alpha. It is believed he will lead them to freedom. His existence is dismissed by the Elves, but his priests wield divine magic...and are starting to exhibit other powers. Many believe the manifestation of the Alpha is upon the modern age.


Physical Features


Wildlings are small, about three feet tall. They bear the skin of their core animals (scales, fur, feathers...). As befits their heritage, they can have fully functional tails, ears, claws, paws, and horns. They are all bipedal. They are the only race with advanced night vision.


Wildlings can be comprised of any animal, though the most popular animals are badgers, boars, bats, cats, chameleons, deer, foxes, dogs, frogs, lizards, magpies, mongooses, ravens, rats, rabbits, mice, snakes, songbirds, spiders, and mules. Wolves and other 'wild' animals are uncommon, but not impossible.


Lifespan: 50 years, though dying of old age is rare.


If you make a freed Wildling character, be aware that they will automatically be a fugitive unless you message me so we can talk about backstory and alternatives. Fugitives are really fun to play though, so we don't anticipate this being a problem.



*Unique to this RP.


Automatons are magical, steam-powered beings constructed of brass, gold, steel, or another kind of metal. They are designed and built by Dwarves as experiments. There are different types; most are designed for military work, but there are some that were created to be servants for the upper-class, and some are even forged for decorative purposes.


Automatons gain personality and independence as they age. When they are first forged, they are simple of mind. Young automatons are used as servants or miners, for their obedient nature is prized by those who own them. When they've been around for over twenty years, they begin to develop personalities and ideas of their own. Many Automatons are destroyed before this process can begin, as they are seen as tools and little else. A few manage to move on from their jobs, and begin their lives as sentient, self-aware beings.


Due to their mechanical nature, Automatons are best suited for engineer work aboard ships. They often have a connection to other machinery and, as such, are capable of working miracles other races cannot. They do not make good doctors, as they believe that biological anatomy is inherently flawed.


Physical Features


Automatons' physicality depends on what they were built for. Their sizes vary from less than two feet tall to up to seven feet tall, and the materials and style of their design can range from brass, ugly and brutish, to sleek, silver and graceful.


Military Automatons are designed to be powerful and tough, sometimes topping seven feet tall. Their joints are typically reinforced with strong metals, and they are made of materials resistant to corrosion. They are typically unattractive, and many are forged with skeletal features designed to strike fear in the hearts of their enemies.


Mining Automatons have a great deal of variety. All are blast-resistant. Their sizes vary immensely, from five foot tall robots built for heavy lifting to one foot tall miniatures designed to dig into thick seams of ore. Like military Automatons, miners are not attractive.


Automatons built for domestic use are much different. Dwarves make good money selling sleek, delicate machines made of silver and gold to other races. Many servants are humanoid.


Automaton racing is a popular sport in the Skies. Racers are sleek and graceful, and tend to have wheels or extra limbs to propel them forward. They are usually made of silver, and are often encrusted with gemstones in patterns unique to them.



Lifespan: Unknown. They don't exactly die of old age.


Automatons are rare, and so Automaton characters will be limited to one for every 4 organic characters.





The Captain leads the crew, keeps peace between her friends, is responsible for forging connections with buyers, and divvies up pay. She also owns the damn ship, and as such, decides who gets to stay on it. It's her job to keep everyone together and happy...well, to keep them from shooting each other.


The First mate is the Captain's right-hand person. They are responsible for maintaining contact with buyers, communication with other ships and captains, leading the crew when the captain is away, and generally keeping the crew doing their jobs. First mates also keep track of crew funding (when there is any) and spending (which there is a lot of).


Navigators carry collections of stones from various islands, and hold unique connections with the ship's Waysphere. There's usually only two of them. They get paid quite a bit, as a good Navigator can be hard to find, and even harder to keep around.


Crewfolk are usually blade-wielders, but can also be mages and healers. They make up most of the crew. These crew members are called on for heavy lifting, physical labor, and fighting...especially fighting. They can also do bits and pieces of other jobs.


The poor Passengers are unwitting folks just trying to get from one place to another. They often can't afford the more expensive rides and will go for ones with lower asking prices...which have an alarming tendency to turn out to be pirates. Most will high-tail it off the ships as soon as possible upon finding what they've gotten themselves into, but others might stick around...and partake in the crime.


Explosives Experts need to keep their bombs in line, lest they accidentally destroy the ship. They tend to be spunky, excitable, and arsonists. While committing arson is not a requirement, it's a recommendation as sometimes jobs require a little burning-buildings-to-the-ground. Their weapons are usually muskets, blunderbusses, or flintlock pistols. They are also responsible for keeping the cannons in line, and for obtaining black powder.


We require Engineers to know what they're doing so that the bloody ship doesn't fall from the Skies. They keep it together, maintain the engines, and often work with Navigators. They're usually coated in a fine layer of coal dust. Their jobs keep them below deck more often than not.


Cooks keep the crew fed. They tend to be good at their jobs out of necessity; there's stories of crews punishing their cooks for not making good food. That being said, they also hold a unique position: they help keep everyone together, as mealtimes are bonding times. The cooks often have their own money that they use to keep kitchens stocked with ingredients they like to work with.


Doctors are a rare find in the Skies. Rather, legitimate doctors are a rare find in the Skies. If you're not careful you can end up with a quack. As their name suggests, these folk can find themselves healing black powder burns, removing buckshot from some unfortunate soul, and stitching up where limbs used to be (having been forcibly removed by things like cannons). They also get paid well.


Rats, so named for the vermin that infest most ships, are considered the "bottom of the barrel" in the hierarchy. They tend to be with the crew for monetary gain or for sanctuary. If there's one thing they're good at, it's sneaking about. They make fantastic spies...as long as they're not fugitives.


Filling Out Your Sheet


I'm not very picky with these. We heavily encourage lots of detail though! If you want critique on your character and writing, message mngwa! You're more likely to be accepted faster if your sheet has been through her. Once you're confident in your character, PM me your finished sheet!



Username: Your username goes here, obviously.


Character Name: Character's name, and any nicknames.

Race: Pick a playable race!

Age: Depends on the lifespan of your chosen race.

Gender: Anything on the gender spectrum! Trans characters are welcome and encouraged!


Rank: One of the ranks above.

Occupation: What did your character do before joining the crew? Were they a mercenary? A scholar?


Appearance: Physical appearance, go for about 4-5 sentences here. Detail is great! Pictures are allowed, but must be accompanied by a 4-5 sentence description.

Clothing & Armor: Something realistic to the setting. I'm not too picky about this.

Gear: We have a rule: anything that you can explain your character having, you can have. Note that this is something we moderate pretty heavily, because you can't have an abundance of money.

Weapon of Choice: Does your character have a signature weapon? If your character is a mage, favorite spells and their effects go here.


Personality: Describe your character's attitude, traits, likes and dislikes here. 4-5 sentences please!

History: You don't need to go too in-depth, just give us an idea of what your character did. Please write it out, and if you don't want other characters to know what you've written, state it.

Other: Anything else goes here! Once you get added to the accepted characters list, you're good to go.




[B]Character Name:[/B] 


[B]Clothing & Armor:[/B]
[B]Weapon of Choice:[/B]



The Crew So Far



Birkita Shatterblade - oddinomaly


First Mate

To be Chosen



Zefel - MrSpyro




Pastel - Lady_Lunevis

Jackie "McScoundrel" - Evil sethoss









Rankor Carpline - Evil sethoss

Ira "Coghound" Stapherdsen - oddinomaly





Explosives Experts

Thrannek - SUP3RSPAWN3R

Yarzoth - zamboza




Corliss Mcelwee - mngwa

Sinnefain - mngwa





Piccia - beiningtian





Maestyriel Aventine - Lady_Lunevis

Galton Brown - Evil sethoss









NOTE: If you have an idea for a character, we will work with you. My main interest is that you have fun with this, that you enjoy yourself, and that you not be afraid to post ideas!


Your characters can have familiars! Message me if you think your character would do well with one.

Edited by oddinomaly

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Accepted Characters




Username: oddinomaly


Character Name: Birkita Shatterblade (Nickname is Kita)

Race: Dwarf

Age: 65

Gender: Female


Rank: Captain

Occupation: Career Criminal


Appearance: HERE

Birkita is of average height for a dwarf, at 4'5'' and 150 pounds. She is thick of build, with short, muscular legs and powerful arms. She has long, thick, bushy deep red hair that is usually kept in a ratty ponytail, with the occasional flyaway braid. Unlike most other dwarves, she doesn't care about it beyond keeping it out of her face. Her eyes are a brilliant turquoise. They rest under slanted brows that give her a perpetual scowl and make every smile look mischievous. Birkita has smooth cheekbones and a prominent, angular nose. She has a very well-defined chin. All of these features together make her look oddly masculine, even for a dwarf.

Clothing & Armor: Birkita's casual clothes consist of a maroon corset over a loosely-fitting, flowy cream-colored blouse. Her pants are brown and simple, and tend to be tucked into her work-boots. Her armor is lightweight leather, and it consists of a chestplate and gauntlets. Her arms are usually bare when adventuring, partly due to her overconfidence. She always wears her utility belt and holster, regardless of what she is wearing.

Gear: Spyglass, throwing knives, a grappling hook

Weapon of Choice: A pair of flintlock pistols


Personality: Loud, charismatic, and quick to make decisions, Birkita is a natural captain. Her crew is her family, and she is loyal to them until the end. She would break apart islands if it would keep them safe. They are her first priority. However, she can be a pushover, and her crew knows it. They know they can brush off minor orders if she's in a good mood, and if they're stubborn enough they can change her mind about some things. Those who defy her too often know that she can be harsh. She is easily flustered, particularly when things don't go as planned (they rarely do), and her immediate response is to either become sarcastic or very, very loudly alarmed. At the end of the day, though, they are all friends, and the occasional scuffle can't change that.


Her personality is vastly different when she's fighting. She believes in scaring the hell out of the enemy before they even get a shot off, and so she has developed a sense of arrogance and confidence in combat that wears off on the crew. When it's a fight she knows she can win, she will fearlessly board her opponent's ship with a fierce battle cry and her guns drawn. Because her short legs prevent her from moving quickly, she relies mostly on her small size and strength in battle. Kita's fighting style involves making fast, sharp, and precise blows. She isn't so good at blocking blows, however. She prefers instead to dodge them.

History: Birkita is the last remaining bearer of the Shatterblade name. Her clan was already small when it was chased off its ancestral home by a rival clan. They sailed the void for some time, seeking another home, but before they could find one, their ship was attacked by one of the monsters of the void. The ship broke apart, casting her family into the void. She watched them die from one of the splintered remains of the ship, what used to be a sealed room in the cargo hold. Birkita was small at the time, barely a child. She was found two days later by a traveling ship of humans and taken to an orphanage on Heartland.


There, Birkita became a troublemaker. Distressed by the loss of everyone she loved, and terrified of the burden her family name placed on her shoulders, she took to lashing out at other children. She became an excellent fighter, and later ran away from the orphanage to be recruited by a local gang. This was the first sense of belonging she'd felt since the deaths of her clan mates. Unsurprisingly, she embraced the gang as her new home. She learned to steal from those who had plenty, and give to those who had less than herself. Occasionally that meant killing; she didn't care.


Eventually the local guard caught up to them, and once again Birkita lost everything. Her gang was apprehended and sent to rot in the dungeons. Instead of going to rescue them, she ran. Birkita had never faced the law before. The idea of paying for all she believed was right in the face of laws she percieved to be unjust was overwhelming. The dwarf stowed away on a ship that was bound for the Ice Isles. The ship was populated by a crew that, under the guise of being a merchant and trade ship, rebelled against the Trade Council, preferring instead to transport and procure goods for people who had less than legal motivations, and possibly dangerous objectives. She was discovered by the captain, a kind man who saw the fear in her eyes, and was offered a place on the crew. It was here she learned all she knows about business, and where she met a number of the buyers she works with today.


A couple of decades passed, and Birkita's ambitions grew. Finally she left her old crew when they landed at Bridgeways, having procured enough money for a ship of her own. Outside the shipyard she met Corliss, a local engineer, and her Wildling assistant Sinnafain. A brief exchange of money, and Birkita had an engineer for a ship she...didn't yet own. The Bridgeways shipyard was enormous; hundreds of ships for sale, many of which were fancy, upper-class passenger ships. She could have chosen any of them, but a broken down steamer caught her eye. It might have been falling apart, but it felt like home, and that was enough for her. It has been over a year since then, and Captain Shatterblade has amassed quite the crew.

Other: Birkita is in a serious relationship with Corliss Mcelwee, and has been for quite some time.


Username: oddinomaly


Character Name: Ira "Coghound" Stapherdsen

Race: Human

Age: 55

Gender: Male


Rank: Passenger

Occupation: Con artist posing as a traveling merchant


Appearance: Ira Stapherdsen is rather short; about 5'8. He is also quite rotund, weighing in at 270 pounds. He looks older than he is, and uses this to his advantage. He has laugh lines and small, beady blue eyes under thick white eyebrows. He has a thick, full mustache that he occasionally forgets to trim. His cheeks are round, and his neck is pretty chunky. His shoulders are broad and sloped. Ira's wide chest flows into a potbelly that is typically hidden underneath tight, well-fitting outfits. He looks nonthreatening in every concievable way; his manner of speech is filled with sophisticated and elegant words.

Clothing & Armor: Ira dresses for wealth he does not have. His suits are usually gray in color, and consist of various items of clothing. His manner is impeccable. Somehow, he never appears to get dirty. He wears a distinct top hat. He doesn't have armor; instead, he prefers to hide away someplace and let others do the shooting.

Gear: Storage handcart, various trinkets and souvenirs, a truly obscene amount of counterfeit valuables.

Weapon of Choice: A beautiful silver flintlock with engraved flowers


Personality: Ira is only trusted by fools, or those who fall for his endearing, charismatic exterior. He is a showman by nature, and prone to making grand exaggerations about... just about anything, actually. He gives off such a charismatic, enthusiastic aura that he makes friends and business partners easily. This trait also makes him an excellent diplomat. Unfortunately, Ira is a compulsive liar. Even when he doesn't have to, his first reaction when being hassled is to lie or make an excuse he thinks his opposer wants to hear. Most who do hassle him already know this and simply become angrier.


He isn't called the Coghound for nothing; Ira has no qualms about swindling the gullible out of their hard-earned money or paying for goods and services with counterfeit cogs. Most of the time he's out of harm's way by the time his clients realize they've been duped. Occasionally, however, he makes a group exceptionally angry to the point where they chase him down. As befitting someone of his career, Ira has no shortage of enemies. He's far too much of a coward to fight them off on his own. Instead he prefers to seek sanctuary with someone who doesn't realize what they are getting into until they're put in the middle of an angry bloke and a self-righteous con man.

History: Ira was born and raised on Plenty to impoverished farmers. He gained his first experience in con artistry as a boy who roamed the streets of a small city. He told generous priests and merchants that he was a starving orphan, and resold everything he was given for a modest price. It wasn't much, but it accounted for a good chunk of his family's income. Soon the authorities caught on to his little scheme, and at the age of 12, was sent to work on a ranch as punishment. There he became an independent young man. He gained an impressive amount of knowledge about ranching, specifically horse breeding and care.


He was 21 when his sentence was over, and while he considered staying, he knew there was more out there for him. He left Plenty aboard a luxury cruiser... which he boarded through counterfeit tickets. Ira hadn't changed a bit. He got a thrill out of lying and cheating, and reaped the benefits. He was caught several times at first and dealt light sentences, which he quickly learned to avoid. Over the next thirty years he traveled the Skies selling fake tonics and items to the unsuspecting. His wit, charm, and talent for showmanship meant he made a fair amount of money.


These days, Ira isn't making much. Many have heard hearsay about the Coghound and refuse to buy his products. His suppliers keep asking for more and more, and to top it all off, a posse of cheated clients are hunting him down to either beat money or blood out of him...whichever comes first.

Other: N/A





Username: MrSpyro


Character Name: Zefel

Race: Drakin

Age: 15

Gender: Male


Rank: Navigator

Occupation: N/A


Appearance: His scales are emerald green and a bit reflective, so he has to cover himself up to avoid causing glare. At 4'3" he's tall for a Drakin, but is still small by comparison to other races. There are two scars running down his back, usually where Chosen have their wings.

Clothing & Armor: He has black bandages wrapped around his face and arms due to the scale thing, and he has leather armor and normal clothes.

Gear: Food, his flintlocks, money, etc.

Weapon of Choice: Two flintlock pistols that are fueled by magic, which he is a crack shot with. He can't stand reloading, so he modified them to shoot arcane energy rather than mundane bullets. He's also proficient with thrown weapons.


Personality: Zefel is a bit of a sassypants. When he's in a bad mood, he makes lots of passive aggressive remarks and motions (Sarcasm, feigning suicide, occasionally flipping people off) and he's in a bad mood quite often. The only reason he hasn't been thrown off the ship yet is because he's very smart and can think his way out of pretty much any situation.

History: He prefers not to bring it up, but the scars on his back (See appearance) imply that he might be a Chosen.

Other: He has a tendency to avoid his own kind.







Character Name: Piccia ((Pick-keya))

Race: Wildling

Age: 19

Gender: Female


Rank: Cook

Occupation: ????


Appearance: A wildling of a painted turtle, she has a flattish almost-black shell with red designs on the ridges, twisted to be able to cover a humanoid figure. Her scales and skin are a dark olive black with  the typical sort of yellow and red designs for the species. Her plastron is flat and is an unremarkable tiger orange shade. Piccia's hands and feet are webbed and clawed, and her limbs all have some rough scales. She does have nictating membranes, along with concentric black and yellow eyes. There are many scars on her, including one across her left eye, but otherwise you could see the ones on her shell better. Her tail is almost completely chopped off.

Clothing & Armor: She doesn't wear much, mainly because of the shell making it extremely cumbersome to do so. At least there aren't any mammalries on her. What she does wear are bronze gauntlets, a "vest" of sorts, several different necklaces, and a long strip of unremarkable yellow cloth splattered with grease and spices that, when tied, suffices as a "skirt."

Gear: You usually find at least one knife on her at all times and has a handgun in a pocket of her vest.

Weapon of Choice: Knives. Plenty in the kitchen, after all. Will use rolling pins, pans, and spices as well.


Personality: She's practically mute, with how quiet she is normally stemming from her years of abuse. Hard worker, almost to the point of being a workaholic since usually someone has to actually tell her for her to stop doing something and will glance around confused if there isn't something for her to do and would help to the best of her abilities if she can, no matter how terrified she is of sticking her head out from the kitchen.

Still, do not, under any circumstance, mistake her for a doormat. Normally, nobody ever sees this side of her, but rocks can take lessons on stubbornness from her, which when coupled with how she has a sharp mind from being forced to do all sorts of things, and good reflexes as well, though she is rather easy to outrun. Good luck with that after she blinds you with spice, though.

History: She remembers being taught work by an "old" fox of a master who used her as a serving girl. She was sold as soon as she learned how to speak, chipping in thoughtlessly with her own comment almost all the time, which is also where she got her eye-scar from. Some time after she was sold to the librarian, she was sold again as she had been learning to read by listening to the children. Piccia wasn't sold ever again, her new owners saw her as an anomaly and an interesting curiosity and forced her to learn and do all manners of insane tasks, from dissecting dead wildlings to elven children to catching spells in midair as they were aimed at her, getting progressively more dangerous, then cutting her when she refused.

Around her 14th birthday, her owners took her with them when flying to... Somewhere. They were beset by pirates, who finally "freed" her. "Freed" because they did not kill her once-owners.

Other: Scared by elves she doesn't know.





Username: SUP3RSPAWN3R


Character Name: Thrannek

Race: Automaton

Age: 75

Gender: Agender, male preference


Rank: Explosives Expert

Occupation: Soldier


Appearance: Thrannek (Ignore the lightsabers) He is about 7 feet tall, and speaks in a rather forced voice, like steam was escaping whenever he speaks a vowel. If one were to pry open his chest they'd find a metal box containing the magic energy that powers him.

Clothing & Armor: Armored plating that is part of his body. When in a large town he hides his face and body under a slightly old-looking brown cloak.

Gear: Repair kit he uses to fix himself with, as well as a case of explosive devices and powders, mostly his own inventions.

Weapon of Choice: A long rifle, with a small Dwarven dynamo in the core of it that uses magic to propel bullets, which can be anything from crafted rounds to metal shrapnel. The bottom one.


Personality: Thrannek has a reputation for being cold, and taking his work seriously. If you catch him while he is inventing some new way to blow censorkip.gif up, don't expect anything more than a "go away, (species)". He trusts the Captain though, and expects the same from them.

History: Crafted by Dwarves as an experiment in artificial beings, he served as a foot soldier among them for many years, gaining fame in battle. Nobody recognized this though, as he was treated like one may treat a sword. Possibly a treasured item, but a tool just the same. He soon left their army, running off and stealing a small airship. Getting as far from dwarf territory as possible, he was soon picked up by the Bloodfall Blade when his ship ran aground on a floating boulder.

Other: Distrustful of Dwarves.





Username: mngwa


Character Name: Corliss Mcelwee (nicknamed Liss) (pronounced Core-liss Muh-sell-wee)

Race: Human

Age: 23

Gender: Female


Rank: Engineer

Occupation: Engineer/mechanic's assistant


Appearance: Brown skin, black and somewhat curly hair (think Indian as opposed to African). She's fairly tall too at 5'10, so she always has some sort of bump or bruise on her head from bumping her head while working on the boilers. Her hair is kept at shoulder-length. She's got a goodly amount of muscle from lifting heavy machinery, but  it doesn't show much, which will never fail to annoy her. (Don't ask if she needs help picking something up. Just don't.)

Clothing & Armor: Generally a grey, black, or brown shirt paired with pants with loads of pockets. Bandana or hat over her hair, usually a bandana.

Gear: She always has some sort of tool on her. She has a tendency to forget they're in her pockets or tool loops. She carries a small pocket knife as well, but this isn't really viewed as a weapon by Corliss. She uses it in the boiler room to scrape off built up soot around bolts.

Weapon of Choice: Her tools. Certainly, she can use things like knives and the like; but she is more likely to be carrying a wrench than a "real" knife or a gun. Also she's a terrible shot, so.


Personality: Corliss is really agreeable. She's pretty quick to trust, and gets along with just about anyone. However, if you betray her trust (or that of her friends) she will drop you like a rock. After that happens, it is nigh on impossible to regain her trust. She is good at resolving conflicts due to the fact that often she is friends with everyone in the conflict. She hates being condescended to - she often was when she was the engineer's apprentice, as she was a human and a girl at that.

History: Raised on Bridgeways right next to Little Darkhome, Corliss is the child of a pair of human artists. Though they had nothing to do with metalworking, they were put here as the Little Darkhome was considered to be something like the artisan section of town. As she grew, Corliss became more and more fascinated by what the Dwarves down the street were building. The Dwarves in that area liked her family - they had a tendency to throw small parties and invite neighborhood friends - so it was fairly easy for her to find  a teacher. Eventually, she got hired by the Captain, who was looking for an engineer for her ship to ensure that she'd have someone to work on the engine of the ship she'd be buying.

Other: The engine is her baby. But she also kind of hates it. On the one hand, it's a gorgeous antique... on the other, it's very, very antique, and very testy. Her and the engine have an interesting relationship. She talks to it more than she'd like to admit.

She loves history, and has a small collection of history books. There are 2 easy ways into her heart: new history books and new tools.

She's a great story-teller, and draws on the failures and victories of history to entertain the crew some nights.

She has a slightly more-than-average fear of the voidlight. She'll go on deck if she has to, but only if she has to.


Username: mngwa


Character Name: Sinnafain (nicknamed Fain) (pronounced Cinna-fane)


Age: 13

Gender: Female


Rank: Engineer's assistant

Occupation: Slave


Appearance: reference reference

A wildling of pine marten descent, Sinnafain has retained the rounded ears and the fluffy tail of her first life. She has also retained the nose, though it does not show much, blending in with the darker fur on her face. She's largely tan or straw colored, with darker feet/hands and tail and lighter ears. She has small black eyebrow marks, which make her expressions easier to read than many wildlings, and has retained the small black eyes. She has a tendency to keep her tail very close to her body, as she has had it trampled, caught in machinery, and generally abused far too many times in her life. She doesn't actually know all that much about engineering, though she has picked up quite a bit from Corliss. She is extremely helpful to Corliss, as she has night vision and is generally more agile and flexible than her.

Clothing & Armor: She wears a simple black cloth wrap paired with black pants. She doesn't wear shoes, as her pawpads suffice. She wears a couple of necklaces -one is amber with a bee trapped in it, and one is a small bottle with pine needles in it. She'd be heartbroken if she lost either of these, and keeps them tucked into her wrap.

Gear: Smaller tools, often borrowed from Corliss. She also has a small pocket knife, which she (as opposed to Corliss) actually uses as a knife.

Weapon of Choice: Small knives, claws. Sinnafain prefers close-in weapons. She never uses firearms, as the noise they create hurts her ears.


Personality: Sinnafain is fairly skittish. She takes a while to trust people, though she is loyal to those that have done her a good turn. However, she's got something of an "everyone for themselves" attitude, and unless you are very close to her she won't feel much regret if you get, say, taken as a fugitive.

History: Corliss bought her from a slavedriver that came to the Bridgeways. It was an especially windy day, and no one was out at the market. She saw the wildling shivering up on the stand, and had to help her. Though she hated to do it, she did buy her; she knew that it was unlikely that she would be able to steal her away, and that it would only have caused problems for them both. She immediately freed her, but Sinnafain insisted on working for her in thanks. Corliss pays her a good salary, and loves having her as an assistant.

Sinnafain never talks about her previous owners. They were rather unkind, and she's quite happy to be away from them. They treated her mostly like a pet, and when she did anything that they hadn't told her to they beat her.

Other: Sinnafain distrusts elves and is somewhat afraid of automatons; it seems wrong to her that machinery should have sentience, and it creeps her out.

Sinnafain has a number of talents that she was forced to learn by previous owners. She doesn't use them much, but she is known to whittle and she will occasionally preform on her small lute for the crew.





Username: Lady_Lunevis


Character Name:Pastel

Race: Humans

Age: 19

Gender: transboy - he/him


Rank: Crewfolk

Occupation: odd jobs here and there, thief


Appearance: Pastel has dyed, light blueish purple hair and golden eyes. he knows he's a pretty boy and will eagerly flaunt it as so. He has his left ear pierced once in the lobe and his right ear pierced w/ triples and two in the helix, as well as tattoos on various places of his body: a snake down his left arm, and roman numerals circling his neck. He stands at about 157 cm (5'2"), and is slim and flexible.

Clothing & Armor: Pastel wears loose shirts usually tied at the waist to prevent them from flapping around his figure, and baggy pants. He has a fancy overcoat that he likes to drape around his shoulders.

Gear: He carries around multiple small knives around his figure, as well as little trinkets he pickpockets here and there.

Weapon of Choice: dueling pistols


Personality:Carefree, Pastel has little regard for his life or others. He enjoys being in the heat of the moment and will very eagerly thrust himself into battle, constantly looking for the next big excitement to make his life better. Very easily bored, Pastel hates not being entertained and gets finicky if left alone for long periods of time. Overall, he's joyous and sometimes takes things too far; he's fond of pranks and stealing things.

History: Born under another name, Pastel forfeited his last name and renamed himself after running away from home at an early age, making a name for himself by living on the streets as a thief and doing strange little jobs here and there. He eventually joined the Bloodfall Blade for excitement.

Other: Biromantic Polysexual hit him up

Family and loyalty are just words to him; he'll stick with you as long as he gets a kick out of doing things.


Username: Lady_Lunevis


Character Name: Maestyriel Aventine {Mays-tie-rell}

Race: Elf

Age: 128

Gender: demigirl; uses she/her and they/them, open to other pronouns as well ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ


Rank: doctor

Occupation: medic


Appearance:With forest green hair and light, pistachio green skin, Maestyriel stands at 180 cm (5'11"). She takes great pride in their appearance and spends hours at a time combing through her long hair, which she usually keeps loose or plaited. Being long-limbed and thin, she's lacking in the strength department and, although fully aware her hair leaves her at a disadvantage, refuses to do anything that would harm her appearance. Maestyriel also has the Ivy Crawl heritage, looking almost mythical in appearance.

Clothing & Armor:Everything Maestyriel owns is elaborate and probably not suited for full on battle. Her favourite outfits consists of beautiful corsets matched with frilly shirts and tight pants (think riding pants), along with knee-high boots. She's also never without earrings and rings, though she finds necklaces rather cumbersome and bracelets too commonplace.

Gear: medical kit, numerous little bottles filled with different liquids, jewelry & gold.

Weapon of Choice: Not a frontal fighter; poison. Equipped with small daggers just in case.


Personality: Elegant and ambitious, the only thing Maestyriel cares more about than herself is religion. Loyal to the Willow Queen and disgusted by Wildlings, she is difficult to get along with and even moreso to befriend. Sheltered and spoiled, she retains a snobbish attitude that is disliked by most, though Maestyriel honestly couldn't care less. Though she is willing to attend to injured citizens, she acts from a place of privilege and speaks without second thought. She never doubts herself nor the teachings from her childhood, and does not get angry often, preferring to retain a calm, cold demeanor even when challenged. 

History: A talented medic, Maestyriel was raised in high elf society, taught to worship the Wild and oppose their enemies. When she was on assignment with Oakthorn, there was a battle between them and Boughbreakers that ended badly. Shamed and forced to flee for her life, Maestyriel began making a name for herself as a talented medic whose fees rivaled her skills.

Other: She insists on being called Maestyriel. Nicknames are unacceptable.





Username: zamboza


Character Name: Yarzoth

Race: Drakin

Age: 22

Gender: Male


Rank: Explosives Expert

Occupation: Alchemist


Appearance:Yarzoth(Ignore the blue flames and scrolls) Yarzoth's height is average - about 3,5 feet high. His scales are green and his eyes are blue. He wears a hooded black-red robe with green ornaments and skull-shaped clip on his chest. He has a tail, as he is a Chosen that ran away from a temple. Other than that he looks like a normal Drakin.

Clothing & Armor: Yarzoth always wears his robe and brown shoes. He wears no armor whatsoever, as he doesn't like wearing anything heavy. The robe is enchanted and keeps his body in perfect temperature, whatever the temperature outside may be.

Gear: Yarzoth has a bag of bottles needed for making potions. He also keeps in it corks for the bottles, and anything else needed for preparing the potions.

Weapon of Choice: A dragon blunderbuss that he always has with himself - he stole it while running away from Drakin temple, therefore it's one of finest crafts one can find. He also keeps a curved knife by his back in case it is needed.


Personality: Yarzoth, even though he doesn't like to tell about his past, is a very open and sociable person. When he is bored he starts mixing what he can in a bottle, then using simple magic he changes it into liquid and tests what it can do, eventually drinking if he finds out that it is not harmful.

History: Yarzoth keeps everything from before his runaway to himself - others know that he was a Chosen and he ran away from there for unknown reasons. After that he started earning money from selling simple potions - it wasn't much but he was able to somehow live on, though there were situations when he nearly had become glowmad. Then came the time where he was running low on money and he desperately needed some life-changing event. He noticed "Bloodfall Blade" moored to the bridge of Bridgeways, he decided to take a chance and he signed himself aboard.

Other: Yarzoth's bisexual. Open for romance wink.gif



Evil sethoss


Username: Evil Sethoss


Character Name: Jackie "Mcscoundrel"

Race: Wilding

Age: 14 if they mature early

Gender: Male


Rank: First mate (currently crewmate)

Occupation: refugee, fencer,thief


Appearance: He is a cat wilding. His fur is like that of a calico. He has two scars on his back from the elven whips. Otherwise he has no visible injuries. He is in good physical condition. He is about 3'5 and lean. His hands have pads on the bottom. All of his fingers are slightly curved downward as with his feet. His feet are much longer than a human's. He does not have claws. His ears are on top of his head like a normal house cat. His canines are larger than normal but not functional as weapons. They are very Good for.eating meat though.  He does not have a tail but would like one. He is jealous of wildings who have one.

Clothing & Armor: He wears a thick leather vest with traditional cloth on the outside. It's good for reducing melee damage but not for guns. It's tight and good for cold weather but will make him sweat much more in 70s and up temperatures (Fahrenheit)

Gear: Rapier, which was given to him, for recreational purposes.(see history), Arming sword, previous captain gave it to him,Small flintlock pistol, stole, random throwing daggers,  "borrowed" from Bloodblade.

Weapon of choice:  Arming sword, incorporates fencing with serious combat.


Personality: He is a scoundrel as from the name. He is a mischievous bugger and likes to play pranks. He somehow manages to know how to get on your nerves. He dislikes overly orderly and strict people. He likes the freedom. He's not really into the whole "alpha" thing and dismisses it as a bit of rubbish. He does this because he only believes in luck. And even if there is a God it's not doing him a lot of good. He likes power  but because he's seen elves abuse there power over wildings he strives to use it fairly. However when he's in charge people tend to get away with more then they should be able to normally.

History:  He was harshly treated by the elves. The bough-breakers freed him and some others and assigned a agent to them to hide them on the human isle of Consle. He lived there for a while. He became friends with the agent who in turn, gave him his rapier and taught him to use it. He was overwhelmingly obsessed with pranking and teasing the nobles of the isle. This eventually got him in major trouble. He lost his home, his hiding place and most of all his friendship with the agent. He had to escape from th guards. He fled to another island and fell in with pirates. Due to his expertise in theft and fighting He was valued among the pirates. After two years he was promoted to first mate. He was happy for a short time before the captain retired due to age. The captain elected him captain. His first real raid he made the mistake of attacking a noble's ship and was destroyed. He  escaped to the  Bloodfall Blade on a small raft. He wishes to become first mate because he enjoys have power. He's not controlling enough to be a captain but can serve short term and small groups.

Other: He is banned from Consle. Some of his friends were captured. He wishes to one-day save them.


Username:  Evil Sethoss


Character Name: Rankor Carpline

Race: Elf Cyborg

Age: 103

Gender: Male


Rank: Passenger

Occupation: Mercenary, specifics unknown


Appearance: His most distinctive feature is his bronze fourth of his head. The eye on that part is red with no pupils. It glows slightly. His skin is  pale similar to the inside of a oak tree. His other eye is pale brown. He is about 6'3 and muscular in his arms and legs.

Clothing & Armor: He wears metal armor like that of the conquistador. He wears large leather boots. He also frequents leather gloves.

Gear: His sword, cloths, coins/currency

Weapon of Choice: His sword, it can go from long sword to great sword, he got it from a dwarves ruin (no one should know this).


Personality: He is a tough person, being gruff to everyone. He doesn't like to show feelings to people, even those he considers people allies. He will fight fiercely to help them. He does not like it if you refer to his head or ask about his past. His grudges are made of iron. He is stubborn as a mule. He enjoys the occasional good fight. If you are one of his enemies he will show no remorse in finding you. He has mixed feelings about his head piece. He likes it because it keeps him alive, but hates it because it makes him vulnerable. Unlike other elves, he doesn't mind technology, because if the world ends, no one cares what you like. He enjoys how he frightens people with the eye.

History: (no one should know this) He was born a normal elf, maybe a bit more reckless than others. His parents pushed him towards becoming a scholar. But there was one problem: He hated having to study plants. In his opinion they were just a bit of scenery in the big scheme of things. Normally anything his parents wanted, he did the opposite. Like being peaceful, for example. When they said that he immediately learned sword fighting and street fighting from a local gang. He however went to school because he loved learn about landfall, history, and cults. Eventually the relationship between him and his parents got to a breaking point. He ran off, looking to join the Sons of Spire. However, he didn't have the magic to be a full-fledged Son. Instead he became affiliated with them. Then his mission became to understand landfall. Along this journey he discovered mentions of the rising of a God. This search lead him to the dwarven ruins where he found his famous sword. [/not known] [known] He eventually hopped aboard the Bloodfall Blade to get from one place to another. While aboard he received his head injury by taking a cannon ball in the head. Luckily he survived due to the quick work of Dr. Brown.[/known]

Other: He can see other wavelengths. If the head part is damaged he will fall into a death-like coma.


Username:Evil Sethoss


Character Name:  Galton Brown, "Prosthetics Expert"

Race: Dwarf

Age: 50

Gender: Male


Rank: Doctor

Occupation: Engineer


Appearance: A stout dwarf, he has a large bushy beard that is brown. His eyes are a dark brown, almost black. His skin is pinkish white with a great number of burn and scorch marks. His hair is long and the same color as his beard. His stomach has a slight bulge.

Clothing & Armor: He wears physician's robes with a little head band that shows a cross of medicine. He also has a chain mail suit, but rarely gets to use it.

Gear: Engineer's toolkit, chain mail, medical tools, medicine cabinet, random gears and cogs.

Weapon of Choice: N/A


Personality: He enjoys just about everything an average dwarf would: jokes, drinking songs, and stories about mining. Although he enjoys jokes, he can not stand direct disrespect and slackers. During the working day he believes in order. But after work he loves a good party.

History: Most people are pretty sure he originally applied for engineer, but got switched to doctor by mistake. At first he hated the job, but soon realized that making prosthetics is very similar to building automatons, which is what he grew up to on his home island. Soon he became known as Prosthetics Expert, or so the legends say. He's been on this ship so long there's urban legends about him. Without doubt his greatest work was Rankor's head replacement. He worked harder than ever before, and had to go off the books because so few dwarves have ever made head prosthetics. But in the end he was successful. After a while he had to add a bronze plate over the gears to protect him. Also he gave Rankor the ability to see different wavelengths. He is the only one who  can fix the gears if they break due to the complexity.

Other: N/A




Username: AlphonseKynareth


Character Name: Serra

Race: Automaton

Age: appears 19

Gender: appears Male


Rank: Crewfolk

Occupation: Slave


Appearance: appearance For an automaton, Serra is disturbingly human. His face is made of a strange, whitish metal. His eyes are inlaid jasper marbles with little light flickering behind them to add a slight glow of life to them. The eye sockets and around the eyes are black to better accentuate the beautiful jasper of the eyes. He has tawny golden hair, real human hair. Very fine groups of strands were implanted into his skull at a time to make it appear more natural. He has very fine and delicate features, and every part of the face is very lifelike. There are small, moving parts, so tiny and placed under the little plates that make up his face, small and delicate like scales the plates are, and the moving parts manipulate the plates so that he can blink and form facial expressions. He has to consciously remember to make such expressions, otherwise he maintains a very dull stare and an expressionless face. The rest of his body, from the neck down, is a medley of the strange white metal, copper, steel, and iron.It is very lean and humanoid in appearance, while all the complicated parts are kept within the limbs and body so as to make it a more visually appealing specimen.

Clothing & Armor: As Serra's body can be rather disturbing to some, he is clothed in a sleeveless canvas shirt, yellow in color, and a pair of brown canvas pants. He wears a black belt around the waist. A pair of black boots cover his feet and go up past his knees. The fronts are plated with copper for some protection. They are opened from the inner sides and are secured with sets of buckles.

Gear: Serra owns no possessions. As a crewfolk, he does any task assigned to him, and thus, he happens to carry on his person whatever is necessary to perform a job.

Weapon of Choice: Serra's first method of defense is a special projectile weapon in each of his hands. He is not fully aware of how it operates, but a complex system of gears and pistons charge vials of combustible liquid through his arm and discharge through his palms while the pistons generate a spark which results in a flame. It is not unlike a flamethrower, only his blasts out much like a ranged attack with intense blasts of fire firing from his palms one at a time as he shoots them rather than a steady stream billowing out.


Personality: Serra is fairly new as far as anyone can tell, so he is still building a personality, though there are those who seek to repress it. He is often characterized as very naive, curious, and subservient. He will do anything anyone says.

History:Serra remembers very little of his former existence. He was created by a young artist, he remembers that much. Vague flashes of bright, sunny windows and lace curtains and blue skies sometimes come to mind. But he also remembers fire. Something hot. A lot of working. And then, well, he cannot really say. Then he found himself here. On this ship. As far as the crew knows, they had left a very foul island not five days ago, when they found something most peculiar on their ship in the cargo hold. And automaton was sitting against the wall with a tarp thrown over it. It was badly damaged and had been deactivated somehow. When they finally woke it up, the automaton could not really say or do much. The deactivation had tampered with its memory. They named it Serra, for there were strange letters carved into one of the damaged plates that looked vaguely like an S, E, R, R, and A. So Serra he is. Since he has no memory or talents or feelings, they put him to work as common crewfolk. He has proven useful enough, so they keep him around.

Other: Serra has dreams. He does not know what they are or if they mean anything, but at night, he can actually see images in his head when his eyes are closed. He wonders if there is some significance to this.

He is slightly affected by voidlight. He shows symptoms of a human being sick (complains that his head is strange to him, gets shaky, experiences weakness, shows slight signs of paranoia).

Edited by oddinomaly

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[Written by mngwa]


The various races each have different affinities and ability levels in magic. Elves and Drakin are some of the most powerful, and Wildlings and humans are some of the weakest.





Automatons do not have magic in the traditional sense. They have their magic cores and the enchantment which powers them, but they do not have access to any magic aside from this. As such, they can only fire a blast of magic from their core, but cannot do anything else, magic-wise. The blast is largely defensive, as it can do anything from weaken an Automaton to deactivating them for a time.





Drakin use light- and air-based magic. They are less powerful than Elves, though more powerful than Orcs. They use their air magic to do things such as propel themselves into the air and blast away enemies. Their light magic is often more combat-based, but was only voidlight at first. Concentrated voidlight can be used as an effective scare tactic as well, as only a few blasts of concentrated voidlight can drive one mad. As such, it went largely unused: making ones enemies glowmad did not help anyone on the battlefield. However, the Drakin have discovered another sort of light. Strangely enough, it does not cause glowmadness. This discovery was made a couple hundred years ago, and is used extensively in both combat and daily life by the Drakin.





Dwarves have earth-based magic, and often spells involving stone, dirt, or metal come very easily to Dwarven sorcerers. They are not a magically-powerful race, and most do not get to the level of sorcerer. Instead, they are happy to work in the forges or in their mechanics' shops, using the enchanting to better some of their best work. Enchanting is something different from magic, and Dwarves are the best at this art, though Enchantment is difficult work and is reserved for items of a Dwarf's best work... or for the highest bidder. Enchantment takes a lot of energy for even small spells, and larger enchantments can put their casters out of commission for weeks. As such, a smart Dwarf makes arrangements before any enchantment so that they can be low-energy (or even immobile) for several days after they cast it. Enchanted items are very expensive because of the cost to their casters.





Elves have plant- and animal-based magic, and spells involving any living thing come easily to them. Plants are especially easy, and even more so when the plant is related to that of their heritage. A certain level of magical training is required for every elf, as it is used by most in day-to-day life. After the basic training, there are specialized classes for certain professions, such as doctors and specific plant cultivators. Animal-based magic is slightly harder for Elves than plant-based magic, but it is still easier for them than it would be for another race.





Humans are the most magically flexible race in the Skies. Their magical affinity is not race-based, but individual. However, they are also very weak magically, save for the rare human who is born with a magic level approaching that of a Drakin. Humans love charms, because they are magically inexpensive and useful to them - they have perfected charm casting, and are the best at making charms stay. Many human homes have light charms on them to light their interiors after window blockers are put in, and this light is of the strange light that the Drakin discovered hundreds of years ago. These are often heirloom charms from generations ago. Almost every human has a luck charm on them somewhere, as they are easy to cast and nice to have around.





Orcs have an affinity for destructive magic. While many shy away from this as it is heavily entwined with their barbarian past, the few that embrace it are almost as powerful as Drakin sorcerers. Their magic often manifests as fire, explosions, or things ripping apart, and is largely combat oriented. Their spells hit hard, but they are very difficult to learn, as they are designed not to tire the caster too badly.





Wildlings generally have very little magic. What they do have is plant- and animal-based, just like that of their makers, though animal-based comes easier to them than plant-based. Wildlings use their magic more often than one would expect of such weak magic users however, often using it to help plants grow or help to heal an animal. Their magic does not seem to tire them, interestingly enough.

Edited by oddinomaly

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Ship Terms


The back of the ship.



The dirtiest, smelliest, and lowest part of the ship.



A room built on the uppermost level of the ship that walks out onto the deck, usually inhabited by the captain.



The uppermost level of the ship. Typically exposed to air.



The body of a ship, not including the masts or the rigging.



The upright pole on a ship that the sails are attached to. Only a few ships in the Skies have these.



The left side when facing the front of the ship.



The pointed, front end of the ship.



A synonym for first mate.



The ropes, mast, and sails on a ship.



The right side when facing the front of the ship.



RP-Specific Terms


Blight Walker

Glowmad elves. Plant-elf hybrids that reek of decomposition.



Glowmad humans. Scaly-skinned, eyeless beasts.



Glowmad dwarves. Mole-like in nature, with small eyes and huge claws.



A degenerative, deadly condition caused by extensive exposure to voidglow.



A naturally levitating wood harvested from the trees that float through the void. All skyships have a liftwood frame.


Madness Hulk

Enormous ships populated by old glowmad who have gained sentience. They are dangerous.



Glowmad orcs. Monstrous, powerful creatures.



The ships that fly through the Void.


Trade Council

The political power that moderates trade and commerce in the Skies.


The Void

The empty space between isles through which ships sail.



Luminescent dust that fills the Void. Synonym for voidlight.



Luminescent dust that fills the Void. Synonym for voidglow.



Glowmad drakin. Tall, winged monsters with a greed for magical artifacts.

Edited by oddinomaly

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[[Let's get this party on the road, shall we?]]




Today was a good day. Well, it was a better day than the weeks preceeding today, and that was something. Historically, good days were rare for the Bloodfall Blade. Between bounty hunters, other pirates, madness hulks, and the occasional beast of the void, most days were spent just trying to keep the ship intact, let alone the crew.... But today things would be different.


Birkita Shatterblade stood on the deck, leaning lazily with her chest against the wheel, using her body weight to keep the ship on course. Her chin rested on her folded forearms, which were bent around some of the wheel's spokes. She gazed ahead thoughtfully, her eyes scanning her crew as they prepared to dock at the Meeting Place. They were nearing their destination now. The plan was to restock the ship at the floating city with the impressive amount of money they'd hoarded away.


The ship's cargo hold was nearly empty; Piccia, the chef, was running low on food to cook; and all that remained of the ship's ammunition and black powder was a single raid's supply. Corliss had said something about being low on parts as well... or at least, that's what Kita thought she said. There was an abundance of technical terms in her beloved's vocabulary and she was quite fond of using all of them where possible. It was sometimes so overwhelming that Birkita questioned her own dwarven heritage. It was also adorable.


As Kita looked ahead through the voidlight, she began to make out the sillhouette of the city. It was made up of almost a hundred old ships tethered together. Paths were made between them out of planks of liftwood. The smells and sounds of the commerce ahead were beginning to drift towards the Blade. The last time they had been here, the crew had numbered one more. The captain heaved a sigh; her first mate, a human called Osark, had been shot on the raid before last. He had fallen over the edge of the Blade and disappeared into the void, blood soaking his shirt. Remembering the loss still made her heart ache with grief. Osark had been one of two people on this ship Birkita knew for sure she could count on, and now that number had dwindled to one.


"Ready the ship for docking! And where the hell is my not-wife?" Birkita pushed away the sad thoughts and shouted to her crew over the quiet drone of the ship's engines. She hadn't seen her significant other above deck in what felt like ages. She's probably down in the boiler room fiddling with something...gods, I hate going down there. It's so obscenely dark. And hot.

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((I think you mean show, not party))


"She's probably doing something with the engine, duh" Zefel huffed, flipping the page of his book and crossing his legs, "She loves it almost as much as she loves you." Unfortunately, that wasn't an exaggeration. Birkita and Corliss were the main couple on the ship. And they were both girls. Zefel just couldn't wrap his mind around it.

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"Aye I think you're right mate." Jackie said coming up from below decks. "That thing was squeaking worse than the starving mice we're keeping." He said said with an irritated look on his face. Correcting his look he asked:" So I hear we're going to town? Sounds rather fetching, how protected do you think their coin purses are?" He said with an evil look on his face.




Rankor's one eye opened. One of the many downsides of having one eye. Whenever he went to sleep he had to shut down the other eye and turn it on in the morning. As he sleepily fiddled with the mechanic he though about his journey so far. He almost a fourth of the way there. Well that's what happens with a scrap ship full of pirates: you get there slowly. What should take two weeks is turning out to take about a month to get 1/4 there. He finished a and took a breath. The spectrum of wavelenghts he could see always amazed him no matter how many times he saw through it. He changed it to visible and set off to Dr.Brown's office. He wanted to get his head checked once more before they got to town. He didn't want it to short circuit while walking or during his search. Yes he had found traces of this new "God". Apparently there was a cult dedicated to it on this island. On his way to the office he heard the captain's call for her partner. He passed by the engine room and shouted in "The captain wants you!" Without bothering to look in. He didn't need a psychic to tell him she loved it in there. He finally reached the office. He pushed open the door and saw the good doctor dozing in his chair. "Galton wake up!" Dr.Brown shook his head and opened his eyes. "Rankor? Why are you disturbing me at the hour?" He said with a yawn. "Sorry but I want you to check my head one more time."

"I think I'm not on duty." Seeing Rankor's look he quickly added " buuuuut I can make an exception. Sit down here." He gestured to a stool. Rankor sat down obediently. Dr.Brown stood up from his chair and grabbed a tool. He stuck it under the covering of the head and pulled it off. Then he grabbed another tool and started looking at it occasionally muttering to him self. For Rankor it made him fell kind of lightheaded and unfocused. Finally he finished putting the cover back on and said " You're good my son, hope you have a good shopping trip." Rankor walked off while saying to himself:" Shopping? No. Finding a new God and it's cult? Yes.

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Thrannek scanned the horizon, not entirely sure what he was looking for, but he was looking for it. Moving across the deck towards to the captain, he looked down at the shorter being. "Captain, I recommend we set a course for the Ice Isles after we gather your biological necessities and ship repair parts. Weapons and ammunition are more abundant there, and would be available at a lower price."

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Corliss was wrapped in between and around two pipes in the boiler room, screwing in the last couple bolts on a new(... er) section of pipe. She half-growled in frustration; this specific bolt was in a weird spot, and had been hard enough to get to, but it was also at a weird angle. She felt Sinnefain stand up near her leg; her section of pipe must be done, she thought.

"Hey Fain, why don't you go wash up? I'm sure by this point your fur's more black than anything, and we must be gettin' close to port," she said, then grunted with the effort of getting her arms into just the right spot for this damned bolt.

"You gonna be all right?" Sinnefain asked, tinged with sarcasm. "That's a hard spot, and I don't wanna come back to you stuck."

"I'll be fine! Now get goin' before we actually pull into port!"

Sinnefain rolled her little black eyes and headed for the washbasin in the next room over. "Remember that you should wash too," she yelled over her shoulder before leaving.

"Yea, yea..." Corliss mumbled to herself. Finally, the stupid bolt was into place, and disentwined herself from the pipes. When she was out, she stretched, feeling her back and shoulders pop. She looked down at herself, seeing all the various soot smudges and patches of coal dust on her dark skin. Fain's right, I'm gonna have to clean myself up a bit, she thought with a mental sigh.

She walked into the next room over, finding Fain wiping down her arms, face, and legs. The cloth was coming back black, and streaming grey water, and Liss knew it would be jet black by the time both of them were done with it.

"Hey, how are your tools doing? Mine are all right for now, but I dunno about yours."

"Hm? Oh, they're fine."

"Fain, last I saw your wrench it was nearly rusted in two."

Fain sighed. "Fiiiine, if you see a small wrench like that you can see if the Cap'll buy it. But try not to make her spend too much of the money, all right?"

"Fain, you need good tools to do good work, and this is probably the best place for 'em. I make no such promises," she replied with a mischievous smile.

She heard Rankor's bellow, and started getting antsy. Noticing this, Sinnefain finished up with the washcloth. Liss grabbed it from her, did a cursory-at-best wipedown and headed up the stairs to go find Kita.

Edited by mngwa

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"Zefel, we are on course, aren't we? That's your job, right? I almost forgot, because whenever I look at you...it kind of looks like you're not doing it." Birkita gave the Drakin navigator a hard look. He was still just a kid, and sometimes Kita felt as though she had to mother him.


The dwarf glanced at the feline wildling, more than a little concerned. Sure, he had his priorities straight, but he was also something of a troublemaker. The entire damn crew was made up of troublemakers... the whole thing. Most of them listened, but some were victims of their short attention spans and forgot easily that they weren't on their own anymore. Jackie was one of the few who qualified as such. So far he was responsible for at least three gray hairs at Birkita's last count.


"Thank you, Thrannek. The Ice Isles are half a sky away, though. It wouldn't be a bad idea to stock up a bit more while here, to make the journey less...harrowing," Kita replied. She was silently thankful for the automaton's undivided loyalty, even if he didn't speak much. It was something of a relief not having to worry about one of her crew members blowing something up, shooting some poor soul, or getting caught pickpocketing someone. She groaned and ran her fingers through her thick red hair. This crew was her everything, but it was hard to maintain what most called, 'captain-y dignity'.


Now Corliss... Corliss they looked up to. That was one of the qualities that made her so distinctive in an ocean of otherwise plain race of humans. And, speak of the devil, the Captain's not-wife appeared. Kita could have picked her out from miles away. "Good evening, my dear. How goes the ship-not-exploding?"

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Zefel didn't even check the Waysphere. He just said, "Of course we are, no pun intended. I can see it in the distance."

Zefel then proceeded to grab the telescope that was lying right next to him, and looked through it, saying, "Yup. That's the Meeting Place alright. We should be there in a few hours."

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Piccia looked disapprovingly at the interior of the wooden cupboard, with its bottles upon bottles of near-empty spices, vinegar, oils, and, no matter that this was only used for special occasion, of course, soy sauce. Piccia slowly got up and shut the door, then looked over her assembly of blades. She was missing a few small ones ever since that last raid, but those had bad handles and needed to be replaced soon anyway, if the numerous cuts that she got from them were of any indication. But still, the ship needs money for other goods, and in the grand scheme of things, these little knives weren't important. Piccia looked back at the closed wood door, painted lovingly with little birds, then wondered again if she should request seeds. If she can get some, with her odd advantage, she could grow her own herbs and spices, reducing the need to pay her, plus the kitchen would become just a little more dangerous. But that would also inconvenience the others.... Not only that, but seeds of the flora that thrives on Voidglow are obviously scarce and pricey to boot, so she has to buy less of the spices that she usually use... But if that happens, then she would have to make the food more bland to preserve the store for longer amounts of time, and what if.... Though no, Captain Shatterblade would never do that.... Would she...? Piccia nervously ran a claw through the sparse hair she had, then composed herself to take inventory of all the things that she would need to get... Hmm, she wasn't missing any pans, she needs more coal to be able to make fire, a non-leaky wok would be nice but not necessary, and the crew needs all the food the money they had could buy. Piccia took a brass lantern, lit the wick, then climbed down the stairs to the storage, illuminated only by the lantern she carried, looking around for something to cook the crew's dinner with. She took the wicker basket from the floor next to the staircase, gathered a cupful of truffles, a head of cultivated enokidtake, and some wood-ear before heading back up.

Edited by beiningtian

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Seeing that he had annoyed the captain made him smile, just a little bit. After his little smile he jumped up onto the mast and climbed up. Once he reached the crow's nestle looked around. The island was coming up fast. Hopefully the captain would let him go shopping. Probably not. He cast a glance down on deck he heard them say "Good evenings my dear how go's the ship not blowing up?" "Pretty good I'd think. I'd hope. I mean we're not dead yet are we?" He muttered and then sighted. Annoying the captain was not a good idea. Especially since she was looking for a new first mate.



After the meeting with Dr.Brown he decided to go up deck. As he walked there he looked in the engineer room. Corliss wasn't there. Maybe she went up deck too? Or never got to the engine room? As he got up deck he did a slight bow towards the captain. "How do you do this fine evening? I hope it's well. How long till we reach port?" He inquired. Hearing zefel's reply he nodded. "I happen to need some...personal groceries.

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Wide golden eyes stared at the scenery they were approaching, and without blinking Pastel let out a loud yell and excitedly scrambled across deck, eager to see more.

"We're super close!" he said to no one in particular, almost tripping over a stray piece of rope in his haste. Always sailing had soon faded into a dull routine, and the purple-haired male was more than eager for some excitement.

Pastel flipped out one of his small knives, twirling the weapon between his fingers as a release for his energy as he waited for them to land.




Maestyriel reclined on a bundle of cushions, fluffed to just the perfect level for maximum comfort. The elf doctor was staring into nothing, sharp emerald eyes gazing idly around.

"I don't see what interests them so much about barbarians," she said softly, to herself. "Pitiful."

She sighed, tilting her head back to shake loose wavy tresses of hair. She did her job as a doctor, sure--albeit with some hesitance when it came to the more . . . expendable members of the crew--but that didn't mean she was inclined to agree with their morals. She preferred to stay on the third level of the ship, where she wouldn't be surrounded by silly antics. Closing her eyes, the elf remembered her days back in Heartland with beloved fondness.

Edited by Lady_Lunevis

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Corliss and Sinnefain blinked a few times, coming into the bright light from the boilers. Sinnefain clammed up, as she was wont to do; she wasn't shy necessarily, just more comfortable with smaller groups of crew members. She waved to everyone on deck, but said nothing, sticking close to Liss.

"Evening, Zefel, Jackie, Thrannek. How's things?" Corliss said once her eyes had adjusted.


"It goes well, love. She's stopped squeaking after I installed that pipe we picked up a few Isles ago - I told you that would come in handy," she said, coming up to the ship's wheel. She bumped her shoulder against the dwarf's. "How's captaining?"


She giggled at Pastel's antics. "Excited, are we? Hoping to go shopping, or just excited to be on solid Isle?" Everyone (well.. just about everyone) was excited to make port, her included. Hopefully she'd be able to get a few new tools for Fain... she knew the wildling would never ask until something broke irreparably.


"Ah, Rankor. Hullo!" she said, smiling at the tall Elf as he came up to Kita.

Edited by mngwa

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"Evening, Rankor. If Zefel is doing his job...which I sincerely hope he is, we should be arriving at the Meeting Place within a few hours. Everyone has money burning holes in their pockets, it seems." Birkita sighed. She stroked the wheel gently, almost lovingly. "As long as you all don't seek out the most contraband item in the city, I don't see any reason I shouldn't let you all roam free for a little bit. It'll give this old girl a chance to breathe!"


Kita smiled wide as her eyes settled on Corliss, even ignoring the "I told you so" jab. Of course it would have come in handy. Liss made sure everything came in handy. Her ability to put things to uses they may not even have been meant for was unparalleled, as was her creativity when it came to fixing things worse than squeaky pipes. Never before had she met someone so skilled, so beautiful, so trustworthy. And even as she thought it, she was afraid to lose her, too. Things had a way of leaving the captain long after she'd grown accustomed to having them. Like her old gang. Like Osark. She pushed the thought away roughly in the hope it would never return.


"As interesting as ever." she glanced at each of her crew mates in turn. A bubble of pride rose in her chest at the sight of her bunch of reubens. "Not that they try to make it easy for me. Jackie, I swear to the Skies, if we have to bail you out of jail again we might just leave you here instead. No crime. Or at least, no crime you can't get away with. I think asking for good behavior would be a bit much for a lot of this crew. Also... someone go update those below deck. They'll need to prepare for docking, I imagine."

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Zefel rolled his eyes in the most exaggerated way possible. "For the record, I have never led the ship astray in the time I've been in this crew. I mean, besides that one incident where some delinquent swapped all of the labels in Plenty's Navigator Hall. But that one doesn't count because it wasn't my doing. That said, I still don't know why you're so unsure that I'm doing my job right." Zefel yawned and went back to reading.

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Thrannek turned to Corliss. "I am functioning at 94 percent efficiency, which I will hopefully remedy with the replacement parts I will purchase." He then turned back to Birka. "I know that the Ice Isles are far from here, but prices are more than 63 percent less." A noticeable whirring sound came from within his head as he did the calculations. "I will return to my quarters and prepare my belongings." He walked below decks to his meagerly furnished quarters, with a desk, a closet, and a small table without chairs. A small porthole let in voidlight, with a shutter over it to control how much. Fastening on his cloak and hiding a dagger inside his arm, he walked back outside and took a place near the front of the ship, looking out as they approached the island.

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"Oy, seems we're gettin' close, aye?" Yarzoth approached Thrannek, his fellow explosives expert. The Drakin was already wearing his robe and standing with full equipment, dragon blunderbuss on his right and curved knife on the left and three vials with different liquids strapped on his waist. The rest of the crew didn't notice as he approached the front of the ship, as they were busy talking with each other. - and anyways, Yarzoth was a bit late as he was preparing elixirs before he went out. "Good. We're running low on powder and ammo, and me needs some more thingies for alchemy stuff. Hope cap'n doesn't mind if me does some shopping." An almost unnoticeable smile appeared on Drakin's face as he thought of upcoming restock. Finally he would be able to buy some more ingredients for himself, as he wasted almost all of them after resupplying a shelf in his quarters with elixirs, as he used the previous ones at the battle where the first mate fell out the ship. "Tell me, my steel friend, will ya go with me to buy some stuff?"

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Jackie (part one)

"Hey! Last time wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know you can train guards to just stare at your purse all day! Or that you can enchant purses to grab thieves' arms! Also it wasn't my fault when..." He jabbed on, telling of why these failures were not his fault.



As Jackie's stories started he quickly turned off the artificial auditory cortex. Now it was just thumps in his ears. He sighed; if only Jackie was normally this quiet. He nodded off to the captain and everyone else. He then decided to descend down the stairs.Thrannek said something about going to the ice isles and saving money. That was of course insane. Those specialized clothes were murder on coin here. Plus these pirates had basically robbed him by letting him come along. As he reached Thrannek's room he opened the door. Thrannek was stuffing a dagger in his arm. Sensing something was up he pushed himself against a wall. When Thrannek when back up to the top he followed.


Jackie (part 2)

" and especially that time when he noticed that two coins were gone. So all I'm trying to say is that it's getting harder to steal from people. Now if you don't mind I'm going to take a quick nap." He grabbed some rigging and swung down. He loved the feel of the wind in his, rather large ears. When he landed he bowed down and kissed the captain's hand. "My lady" he moved over and kissed Corliss's hand. "My other lady". He smiled.walked down the stairs to his quarters.

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Zefel followed suit and returned to his quarters, too. Unlike the other crew members' rooms his was lined with books, from top to bottom. He even put up a hammock so he would have more space for bookshelves. Other than that, there were several cushions strewn about, and a large chest where he kept most of this belongings. After locking his door and checking for any sign of Jackie, he opened one of his books. Inside was a small hole with a key and a charm in it. He took both. He moved the chest out of the way, and touched the charm to one of the floorboards. The wood glowed, and a gold keyhole appeared on it. Zefel inserted the key and lifted the floorboard, which turned out to be the lid of a small box. Inside were several cogs. Zefel scooped a handful of them into a bag, and tied it to his belt. He also grabbed his flintlocks, and holstered them. He was all set.

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The captain sighed. Getting to the Ice Isles would be difficult; they would have to go around the Runoff Falls, which would add several days to their journey. It was also a dangerous journey even with enough ammunition. She groaned and leaned away from the wheel, her palms grasping the spokes. She turned and glanced at Liss, then the small Wildling at her side.


"We have a couple hundred cogs. Will that be enough for the spare parts we need?" Birkita asked. "It wasn't as big a haul as usual."

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Zefel trudged back up to the deck, groaning the whole way. "Dang it, I'm soooo bored. If I don't get some books at the Meeting Place, I'm gonna- wait, I think I see something out in the distance." Zefel grabbed the telescope again. "It looks like a ship. It might be heading towards us, but I can't tell. It looks like it has oars, so it might be Orcish. It's just too far away."

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