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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Oct 6, 2012 23:39:49 GMT -5
The year is 1588. The world is wide, wicked, and wild with pirates. Spain has conquered several areas of the globe, often coming into close contact with Britain, France, and Italy in the mad scramble for new lands and treasures.
Now, Spain finds himself alone at sea, contemplating the value of his conquests. Britain has challenged him to war, and his victory is certain, but something-- a small, troublesome instinct-- tells him that all is not right. If he is to meet Captain Arthur Kirkland at war, he will require allies. Who will come to the Spaniard's aid?
The Players Spain: Hipster Spain France, Germany, Britain: Hipster France Monaco: Monaco Canada: Canada America: America Romano: Romano Prussia: Hipster Prussia
Italy
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Post by Thor Odinson on Oct 7, 2012 10:39:35 GMT -5
How maravilloso. *smirks* You know I will be taking the role of myself.
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Oct 7, 2012 10:42:44 GMT -5
*swoons* Ohhhh, Spain... Of course, of course! Et... I will take ze role of moi. *bats eyelashes at Antonio*
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Post by Monaco on Oct 7, 2012 12:20:46 GMT -5
Ohoho. So a RPG taking place at the time I was under Spanish rule~? Sounds interesting. I'm in!
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Oct 7, 2012 14:07:49 GMT -5
Added, ma cherie! <3
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Post by England on Oct 7, 2012 15:32:57 GMT -5
Badampam... Can I claim myself? :I
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Oct 7, 2012 16:04:29 GMT -5
*flails* England! Oh, England! Oui, anyzhing for you! *runs off to add him*
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Post by Thor Odinson on Oct 8, 2012 0:26:40 GMT -5
The sea gathered at the bow of the Spanish vessel- a foaming, writhing mass of untamed water - as the sails snapped in the wind beneath churning clouds. A storm waited on the horizon, ominous and foreboding. The ship groaned as waves battered its sides, and creaked loudly against the relentless gale.
Spain stood at the helm of his ship, barking out orders and watching his crew scramble to obey his commands. The wind tugged at his hair, pulling dark strands free from their hold at the nape of his neck and blowing them about wildly. He shoved them back impatiently, the sound of his footsteps distinct upon the deck as he strode across it, his coat flapping around his legs. With the bowsprit now extending before him, he came to halt, resting a hand lightly on the worn railing and studying the storm that reared its head threateningly before him.
It was not unlike the hundreds of storms he had weathered before - and it certainly would not hinder his thirst to conquer and claim more of the world as his own - but something about this gathering tempest struck a chord deep within him. The feeling had not left him since Britain's challenge of war, and now in the face of the storm gathering violently before him it had suddenly become something of importance. As irritating as he found it at times, Spain knew better than to ignore his instincts. War was not something new to him; it was a part of him. Victory would be his, this he was certain of, but something felt wrong. Rushing headfirst into this war alone would be a foolish mistake.
He would need allies.
How long had it been since he found himself in France's alluring prescence? He missed the feel of those golden locks in his hand and the feel of his body against his own. Those lips, those nimble fingers, and the smooth velvet of his voice. Spain closed his eyes against the rush of emotion that surged through his veins, lips twitching into the shadow of a smirk. The sea had kept them apart for too long. His heart longed for the Frenchman, and he would surely stand by Spain's side in a war against Britain.
Spain reached into a pocket and retrieved his compass. After studying it for several long seconds he returned to the helm and issued out new orders to his crew. A new course had been set, his first priority now to reunite himself with France. The bow of his ship cut through calmer waters, the violent tempest now at his back, its wind reaching out just far enough to fill his sails as it gave chase.
He would not be caught unprepared.
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Post by England on Oct 8, 2012 7:24:26 GMT -5
((Hey... is there any chance that an America will join this roleplay? Because then I can make Iggy sail towards America, and after that we can start our epic battles of awesomeness - I mean, Spain's first going to France, so I don't think Britain is going to meet him anytime soon.))
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Oct 8, 2012 7:42:50 GMT -5
((Oui, oui! America es welcome to join!))
The crew would certainly find him mad; it was not often that Francis withdrew from such wild, raucous revelries such as the one rumbling the very foundations of the Drunken Skull, but there was only so much that he could withstand in his heavy heart. He had tried his best; he found some comfort in the abundant bosoms of woman after woman, nuzzled the warm, inviting slope of scented necklines, explored the delicious swell of sweet hips, but such endeavors served only to numb him, a distraction from the empty hum in his heart.
Drinking was no help; the alcohol only intensified his somewhat ridiculous feelings, his romantic longings for one man who he knew he would never truly possess, a man more married to the sea than to anyone else. How many passionate nights had he spent tangled in the man's swarthy arms, relished that honeyed Spanish voice, only to awaken the next morning to his awful absence?
This night, his longing for the man had grown to such a terrible crescendo that Francis left the glow of the tavern to sit by the churning, darkening sea. Perched on the dock's edge, beside L'aria-- his sleeping giant of a ship, Francis contemplated the vastness of the sea, in all its beauty and terror. It was a wide, laughing chasm, the valley that drove a wedge between himself and the man he loved again and again. His crew found him mad, for he had begun to despise the sea. A blasphemous sentiment for a pirate.
The horizon steadily swallowed ribbons of pink and gold; stretched lazily over the world. Another day had passed without Antonio.
"Ah! Ah, zis is so stupide! Ridicule! Waiting out 'ere for 'im will not bring 'im back to moi, so why do I do eet?"He wrung his elaborate captain's hat in his hands, his trembling fingers stroking the lace and jaunty white feather. Not only this, but the turbulent times chilled Francis's soul; each time Antonio departed could be his last.
There were rumors about Britain, who was growing stronger by the moment and who seemed to have a personal vendetta against Spain. They met at sea time and time again, crushing each other into the winds; Spain would return to shore beaten and bruised but triumphant. But! How long would this last? Would France stand idly by while Antonio....
"Non!" he swore to no one in particular. "Non! I will not 'ave eet. Eef Antonio ever returns to moi; I will never let 'im leave. Never again!"
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Canada
New Member
I'm not air!
Posts: 27
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Post by Canada on Oct 8, 2012 17:18:27 GMT -5
((Aww no Canada for me to be ;w;))
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Post by Loki Laufeyson on Oct 8, 2012 17:27:00 GMT -5
((You are welcome to be Canada, ma cherie!))
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Canada
New Member
I'm not air!
Posts: 27
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Post by Canada on Oct 8, 2012 17:31:44 GMT -5
((Hooray~ it would be around the time the new world was being colonized))
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Post by Hipster America on Oct 8, 2012 18:02:30 GMT -5
((Heh. England says I should join so I can sneak on his ship. I suppose that'll be fun. ^^))
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Romano
Junior Member
Tch.. idiotas..
Posts: 65
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Post by Romano on Oct 9, 2012 1:55:06 GMT -5
((Any chance of Romano coming in at any point? He'd be really young, but still.. owo;; ))
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