((
This is my reply.

This is a free form RP no character sheets are necessary, and there is no asking for permission required to join. Let me outline a few guidelines for you though.

1. The only conventional RP rule that does not apply here is the one regarding godmodding (I will elaborate).
2. As this is meant to be more of an interactive story, characters between two or more RPers may be controlled through mutual consent.
3. You are permitted one character of your own design in which to participate.
4. Should you wish to not participate any longer, your character will be placed under control of the other players after you leave. If you wish to resume, you will resume with your old character.
5. There is no Player versus Player. Or at least not too much to detract from having an adventure.
6. Lore is provided in the monster below but it doesn't mean its definitive. Go ahead and elaborate or make up your own, within reason.
7. Try and react to the events happening and create your own events that could stem from the actions of the players as a whole.
8. Exploiting these guidelines to the greatest extent is allowed, however, breaking these guidelines will result in backlash whose severity is dependent on how far you have strayed.
9. Take initiative if you believe this RP is going too slowly.
10. You may introduce your own NPCs if you so wish. However, note that they are fair game to anyone who wishes their death so don't get too attached.
11. In addition to guideline number 7, the GM(s) will not rebuke you for taking the story in another direction (one that has not been envisioned for example) and you are free to do so.
12. For every action a logical consequence.
13. Fighting faceless/nameless mooks is handled at your discretion. They are there to die because they are mooks after all.
14. DMs will only intervene in fights between players if there is no clear resolution after a lengthy period as defined by a period that detracts from the main adventure.
15. More guidelines may be made up as I go along, check this post often.
16. Be creative.

))

The knight and his protégée stepped into the square. His thick leather boots drowned out by numerous others. Being only in light mail with surcoat, he would glance about; eyes out for any would be assailants. Damocles the Giant, standing a good two metres tall, which was still tall even for his kingdom, looked down to his little charge. She was Princess Chataigne de Gavaroche, a mere 14 year old, standing just above his waist line. She had clasped onto his gauntlet in a vice-like grip uncharacteristic for girl her age. He smiled a little, relieved that she was still innocent enough but his heart sank, knowing that she would grow up to be another noblewoman, in a noble court. Not only that but his liege, the King had arranged for her to marry with the Crown Prince of their ancestral enemies, the Kingdom of Lexmada. In effect, he was selling his own daughter and ultimately his own kingdom to ensure his people did not suffer any longer. Damocles understood the decision, although he viewed the Jagatai Khanate as a more suitable ally. Of the three countries, Gavaroche was slowly dying, swept up in the crossfire between the borders of the great kingdom and khanate. He hoped at the very least their Crown Prince was reasonable, or Damocles knew that the Prince would cry tears of blood. But now the princess tugged at his hand, willing to be released from his grasp to enjoy the marvels of the festival. She was anxious, Damocles thought, after that boring passage aboard sand ship, having eagerly awaited their arrival.

Sand-ships, and their fuel, coal, were the only real reason the Kingdom of Lexmada and the Jagatai Khanate were at war. The planet being mostly desert, the occasional steppes and mountain range breaking up what was essentially a sea of dunes; it was plain dumb luck that Gavaroche would have the biggest supply of coal underneath their lands, with more sites being discovered monthly. The Jagatai Khanate also possessed coal but they were originally nomads, only realising the value of a permanent settlement not long ago. However, this also meant they possessed a great military, their sand-ships ranging from small, swift single-seaters, replacing horses and camels, to gigantic battleships big enough to cast a shadow over a modest village. That however, did not mean they were uncontested. Far from it, the Kingdom of Lexmada contained the greatest amount of saltpetre, an essential component in firearms. What the Lexmadans lacked in mobility, they made up with sheer firepower. Legend has it that a trio of travelling harquebusiers would appear in dire battles, rallying and leading town militia to victory against various Jagatai forces across the kingdom. It was a different story in Gavaroche, who with their giant stores of coal began a revolution that would transform them. Using coal as a new power source, the possibilities opened up, such as mass production and flight. Flight, Damocle mused, was possible because someone was bright enough to light a bonfire under a bag. Still he was of the old guard, retaining his trusted axe, even when he was presented with a sword and shield after the military reform.

It was at that moment that he noticed Princess Chataigne in front of him, watching a spectacle of the local magi and chemists. His shock was relieved and he wondered what kind of mage she would become. He couldn't see her become a Radical as much as he held a grudging respect for them. Pragmatic and with a clear disregard for the consequences their actions would have around them, they were often the ones who heeded the call to arms, or served as wandering vigilantes, bringing down the hammer of their indiscriminate justice on those that would do wrong. On the other hand, he didn't favour the Puritans as much despite Princess Chataigne's similar disposition, their weak-willed ways and their idealistic outlook on the world giving them not much practical use in harsh reality. But well, he was not an Inquisitor, nor did he have a proper grounding in the works of the Inquisition to be able to judge. A good thing too, Inquisitors were those that policed the magi, being magi themselves, and despite their ominous name, they were neutral on practically all affairs of state, being an independent organisation, answering to no one but themselves, function as a universal Mage's Guild. Then it struck him, not a moment ago, he was still holding hands with the Princess, but for her to move without him noticing was next to impossible. He scanned various faces, some of them confused, a juggler having dropped the items he had juggled, a chemist having added an excess amount of reagents to name but two. Damocles also noticed that they were standing to the south, which was behind him. Turning around as quickly as possible, there were figures that were moving along the city walls. Too many to be city guard and catching a glimpse of a flag that flew behind the wall, he knew it could only be the Jagatai Khanate.

For them to employ a powerful mage to cast temporal sensory delay spell and close in on the port city of Legate, he knew not why, but if it had something to do with Princess Chataigne, he'd be damned to not do a thing about it. Quickly formulating a plan, he shoved his little way into the crowd towards his charge. Then there were the first screams, wickedly curved blades cutting down townsfolk and it was then the crowd erupted into panic. He had closed to within a mere metre from the Princess before a figure was about to strike her down.

"Milady, behind you!" he shouted with all his might.

She calmly turned around before an explosion of blood erupted between them. Damocles almost tripped in horror, managing to catch the bloodstained princess in his arms as she fell backwards.

"Jeez Damocles, you worry too much, I can handle myself you know?" she chided him childishly.

"Milady please refrain from causing me and by extension, your father, any undue stress," he answer.

She had taken down her attacker with a hidden flintlock pistol. Where she had acquired it from, Damocles didn't care, all that was important was to bring her to safety while she was still unharmed.

"Shall we pay a visit to your fiancé Milady?" he asked her.

"I know it’s against tradition, but it doesn't seem like we have much of a choice," she paused, whipping out her wand and melting the face of their next assailant before continuing, "given the circumstances."

She was definitely leaning towards Radical Damocles thought inwardly. Readying his sword and shield, the two made for the city keep.

((Anyone who wishes to co-DM, please contact me.))

Question: What kind of culture are these people? I'm getting a sort of mixed Victorian European/ Arabian Nights feel to this.

((Going for either niniva or althiea as always))

OOC: Err, it's Steampunk, so it's Victorian European with some science fiction/fantasy elements, along with a desert setting. I wish I could, but I can barely RP at all....;_;

((Guideline number 6: Lore is provided in the monster below but it doesn't mean its definitive. Go ahead and elaborate or make up your own, within reason.))

OOC: I was wondering if this was going to remain a story or go into the RP world... so, what your saying is I just continue the story from here? Do I really have to make a character or can I use the previous main ones? I don't like cluttering up stories. Having too many things going on at once kills the mood, for me.

OOC: I guess you either make a character, or share one with someone with permission. Oh and:

"Relaxing..." Rono muttered under his breath, playing with a coin in his hand as he viewed the various sights of the festival. He didn't care much about what was being celebrated (nobles didn't hold his interest) but enjoyed it anyway. He had no idea why he traveled without a cause, the monotony of his old life? A wish to find a cause? Nevertheless, his adventures gave him experience, discipline, and precaution. At the best, the jobs he took to sustain him didn't have any dangers, the worst was a battle. Due to a few encounters with some of the magi, he wore a magic-resistant coat, courtesy of a friend he had helped, and two bags of salt, to distort any spells aimed for him.

Which did help by Rono noticing something odd. He had dropped his coin, only barely noticing it, and watched the various people around him, having a reaction similar to his own. I hate these kind of spells, he thought, going through the crowd, while feeling the back of his neck with his left hand, while slowly reaching to his sword with the other.

He tensed as the screams started, the sound of blades, and panic. Lashing out with his left, he took out one of the attackers with one of the few hidden throwing knives he had, and unsheathed his sword, and prepared one of the four flintlock pistols on his belt for firing.

OOC:Sorry if my post has low quality, I'm trying to improve. I can delete it if you'd like.

((Oh that's right, you wanted Princess Chataigne de Gavaroche right? It also comes with co-DM powers though. Of course they duty of the DM is keep it all cohesive and the players together and interacting. Two birds with one stone. Green, that's perfectly fine.))

((Blue can't co-DM. He will only let you down. Also, this looks interesting. I believe I shall make some posts.))

"And im telling you, you're better of risking it over to Lexmada. Business ventures such as ours simply do not flourish here" spoke Telemichus, a man with a wide brimmed nose and a bristling grey-brown goatee. He was dressed as if a scholar, A dirtied white robe over his tanned mid-30's frame, a red sash fitted upon his waist, hood down from his head, exposing the curly brown hair. He spoke in a casual carefree tone. Seated at a small table aside from the crowds scurrying about for the festival. A cup firmly held in his right hand, filled with luke-warm wine. The ruby-red liquid spilling over his chin as he took another hasty sip. His uncouth demeanor contradicted his style of dress; This man was no scholar, that was for damn sure.

Across from him at this table sat a woman, her forest green hair elegantly hanging over her cheeks. Skin a sandy tan, eyes of hazel. hands folded with her elbows perched upon the rickety wood, chin rested upon her closed hands. Her own cup sitting untouched across from her. She wore a deep brown hooded cloak with a rope tied over her waist, quite mundane apparel that served nonetheless to conceal what was underneath. She tapped her booted foot in against the sandy ground as she pondered. "You cant be serious.. Nothing? Why even have a cell here.." She spoke with disdain, shaking her head as she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"Hey, you could always try your hand at becoming a chemist. Hell, You're already dressed like one of those religious types, why dont you give that a go?" Continued Telemichus, his face scrunched in laughter. It was obvious He no longer took whatever duties he had seriously. Perhaps his cover job paid well, or perhaps he simply no longer cared. With a wide mouthed grin he slumped back and sighed. Apparently now ready for his actual answer. "It would be best try elsewhere, an underbelly of paranoia and distrust prevent our operations, it is as simple as that. Besides look around you, this is a place of innovation. Why not take advantage of this situation? invest or something Niniva" He finished, Legs crossed as he sat back, an arm slouched over the back of his seat as he took another sip.

The woman sighed discouragingly. No, she knew what suited her best. She was no chemist, nor incredibly adept at magic. Arms in her lap, she tilted her head back upon the chair and gazed up into the endless sky. "Perhaps you're right." She said closing her eyes, voice softer now, less stringent.

It was then the festive ruckus turned into cries of terror. The shrieks and shouts instantly threw them both back into reality. Niniva clutched her hand into her robe and grabbed at something whilst pulling herself up from her seat. Telemichus too pulled himself up, though, he was dizzy from alcohol. "You know, you're a curse or something" The man said jokingly, Wiping his arm against his face to clear off the droplets of wine. Lurching his free hand into his robe he tugged free a scimitar that glared off the rays of the sun as he held it readily at his side.

"Im going to go ahead and guess this is an unexpected event" She replied sarcastically, shifting him a glance. New to this region as it would be.

"I dont recall bloodletting being a part of the festivities, I'll catch you around the port. Don't wait up though" The man replied, his tone shifted into a vicious seriousness as he made off into the wayward screaming crowds. "Yea yea.." She said to no one but herself pulling a curved underhanded long-dagger of a weapon from her concealed waist, holding it at her side as assailants began to pour into the area.

((Okay, that's cool, I'll handle Damocles then. Take destiny by its haunches and hump it down hard blue!))

In a dark tent lined with walls of velvet, and golden charms, sat a young couple, clearly in love, for they sat linked arm in arm and gazed into each others eyes lovingly, oblivious to the young light skinned girl who sat before them. She stared at them blankly with startlingly bright amber eyes, and resisted the urge to drum her manicured fingernails on the polished wooden round table that stood between them. She coughed lightly, hoping to catch their attention but to no avail, she sighed audibly and slid down her chair, imagining the reprimands her father would give her for sitting so undignified if he saw her. They were both repeatedly mumbling to each other, while whispering pet names, it was all so ridiculous and a waste of her time. She would rather be at home studying in the depths of the library than watch them talk to each other. By some miracle they remembered that they were in her tent, and that it wasn't the right time or place to do...whatever they were doing.

"Excuse me Miss umm...?" the woman peered up at the sign that hung from the highest point within the small tent. "Miss Ab...Miss Ab..hil...hil..laysha?" Abi wanted to roll her eyes and point out blatantly that the woman was ignorant and an idiot for getting her name wrong. Even though a lot of other had gotten it wrong before as well, she supposed she just didn't like the woman.

"It is pronounced A bee lash a" she said politely, managing a small smile.

"Oh what does it matter? You have a ridiculous name." burst out the woman "Why not Susan, or Alice or Mary? You people are all the same. You're all wierd" Abi fought within herself to stop from lunging over the table and strangling the woman. It would probably save her boyfriend a lot of pain and suffering down the road. She hated nobility, always gallivanting around like they own everything, like they're the centre of the world, they were always so stuck up and rude. She continued to brew all those thoughts in her mind, despite the fact that she was nobility as well. Definitely more noble than the scum which sat before her. She had the blood of the enchantingly charming and persuasive Jasraj family flowing through her veins along with the determined and money wise Silverstein family. She had more nobility in her pinky than she did in her body.

"Well aren't you going to give us your reading?"asked the woman impatiently.

"Certainly" replied Abi coolly and calmly. She opened her sleeve and a glass sphere rolled out onto the table, the inside of the glass was foggy and stirring. She watched as the glass began to clear. She blinked and the glass was completely clear. Abi was puzzled, how could it have cleared so quickly without her noticing, she realized it must have been a magical attack of some sort. The couple were looking at each other strangely as well, as if they felt that they had just missed something. Abi took up the glass sphere and left the tent, leaving the other two behind. The glass sphere revealed a curved blade followed by the flag of Jagatai Khanate. There was a gun shot soon followed by screams of terror and the sounds of blades hacking through flesh.

She turned around and she could see someone approaching, her eyes locked with the warrior's. He smiled cruelly and ran his finger along the blade. Abi held the glass sphere and flung it at the man, it struck him in the head, then floated back over her shoulder where it continued to hover. She raced uncertainly through the chaos unsure of where to go. She traced a path in the air with her finger and the glass sphere zoomed around and struck three more of the warriors. She scanned the area for some place to run.

(im actually interested in this, someone post or ill force Hakker/DH to join >:(!!)

((First of all, I am so sorry for the absence, I try to write when no one is looking over my shoulder, which is becoming rather rare nowadays. Anyway, let's give you some direction.))

As Damocles charged through the crowd, there were more soldiers, this time Lexmadan, pouring out of the keep's barracks. They were armed with the traditional weapon of the Lexmadans, the halberd. Quickly assembling in to the tried and tested spear wall formation, their superiors urged the citizenry inside while keeping an eye out for infiltrators. Those that could fight were falling back to the keep anyway, perhaps to increase their chances of survival. His charge and himself were halted by a commander of some sort. Producing a piece of parchment from her garments, Princess Chataigne tried to force her way with diplomacy. It would take some time and the raiders were closing in. Such a small garrison could not possibly hold out for long against an invasion force.

The air suddenly dried, and with all the battle experience that Damocles had acquired over his years of service, he could recognise the projectile as he huddled over his charge while the poor chap in front of them literally lost his head. The heat was intense to say the least. Wishing it not be who he thought it was, the two took shelter behind the spear wall as another officer hailed them.