(MY MAIN IS MACHINAFULMEN) Indie RP blog for various bosses from Sea of Thieves. Muses are: Rathbone, Graymarrow, and the Burning Blade. Read my rules for more info.
[ AHOY. WELCOME TO SHORESOFGOLD. HERE BE MY RULES. ]
18+ interaction only! ERP is mostly quarantined to DMs, but I'm happy to roleplay suggestive content and shipping.
I roleplay in a semi-literate multiple paragraph style. I’ll adapt somewhat to the length and style of your replies.
This blog may contain: Abuse, kidnapping, graphic injury, and death. Stay safe and do not follow if these make you uncomfortable! Thank you.
I am fine roleplaying with original characters and most fandoms, however I will NOT roleplay with: Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, IRL/YouTuber/Celebrity roleplayers, military/countries, and likely others that aren't coming to mind.
I'm most familiar with: Sea of Thieves, Megaman, Phantasy Star Online, Zelda, Transformers, and Steven Universe.
Be advised: I cannot always trim my posts right away! You may block my tag #trimlater if long posts are not hidden on your dash. This tag is used temporarily until I can edit the post on desktop.
Mun is Atrocity (24, it/its) my main is my art blog @machinafulmen, I'll be following and liking posts from there!
My other RP blog @calamitousarts contains my player pirate, a SOT AU of Zero from Megaman X.
Here's my WIP Carrd! I'll make that my new pinned when I get to it.... This one's uploaded as a look test.
MUSE INFORMATION UNDER THE CUT:
( Images coming in a future update. I'l be drawing references of my own interpretations of these characters. )
[ PRIMARY: Rathbone ]
Rathbone, also known as the Gold Hoarder, is a pirate cursed by his hunger for riches. His body is entirely skeletal, its decaying frame mended with pure gold, covered loosely with the tattered remains of the clothes he wore in life. His personality can be described as taciturn and apathetic; his indifference to anything unprofitable makes him a worthless ally. Driven mad by greed, Rathbone isolated himself and his plunder on an island surrounded by untraversable waters. However, he was summoned against his will to fight for the feared Davy Jones, then cast aside upon his own subsequent defeat. Currently, he is unable to return to his hoard, owning nothing but his trusty shovel and any shiny objects he can squeeze into his pockets.
[ SECONDARY: Lord Graymarrow ]
Lord Graymarrow is a fearsome cursed pirate who is proficient in magic. His skeletal body is massive, donning loose, heavy clothing reminiscent of the portly flesh he once had as a man. His loyalties lie with those he reveres most; Those who have bested him in battle and proved themselves to be powerful allies. His own crew sails the seas, their souls eternally bound to the jewelry that he wears. To his allies, he is boisterous and sociable, but to his enemies, he is nothing short of a living nightmare.
[ TERTIARY: The Burning Blade ]
The Burning Blade is the glorious flagship of Captain Flameheart, the true king of the Sea of Thieves. Her hull is monstrous, reconstructed again and again throughout her life. Armed with ten cannons and a fire-breathing maw on her bow, this nimble vessel is sure to strike fear in the hearts of all who oppose her captain. Fueled and cursed by the destruction reaped with her body, she developed a sort of.. personality, over the years. Every board of her frame churns and twists to her apparent will, favoring only her captain’s orders over all who man her helm. Begrudgingly, at her King’s request, she will allow lesser pirates to set foot upon her deck.
"And I'm sure you understand, I say it with very good reason. The mask does not come off." Junior doesn't really back down, it's more of a matter of getting pushed back, having to step back to not get pushed down.
As they feel cornered, they strike, muttering something under their breath and lighting up a spell etched in the glass of the bomb as they smash it straight into Graymarrow's face. It blows up with a potency that usual blunderbombs just don't have, something strong enough to feel more like a cannonball.
It's a right dumb idea, they have no way of getting away unless they happen to find a rowboat, or they're willing to walk the way back to Reapers through the ocean floor. It's not the longest voyage, the fire is visible from the fort of the damned, but it's the making it down and back up that concerns them.
And Junior takes the chance to scurry off, dashing past Gideon's side and scrambling up the staircase to make it above deck. They send a couple parrots aboard off to message a Reaper ship that the call of battle is on, just as they manage to nick away the sword of one of the crew.
OUGH-- Graymarrow hardly had the chance to figure out what happened, if there was any wind to knock out of a skeleton, it's out. He stumbled back, his talons releasing their grip on Junior long enough for them to squeeze by his chunky frame. Graymarrow roared in frustration, holding his face as red vapor dissipated off where the bomb had been detonated.
Above deck, the crew was already scrambling up into position to attempt their capture. Clawed hands grasped from every direction, the crew swinging their cutlasses and firing carelessly. Any who weren't part of the scuffle hollered in excitement, jeering noisily at them as if spectating a sport. Their full attention was turned to the fun, leaving their parrots plenty of room to flutter off. Stop fighting! There was a deep thudding through the lower deck, perhaps signaling Graymarrow's clumsy pursuit. Just obey, it makes it easier on all of us. The ship actually seemed to have one emergency rowboat, likely only for Graymarrow if he'd ever needed it. Not that he would ever be so humble..
"LAD! WE ARE NOT PLAYING THIS GAME."
Graymarrow's voice boomed from the lower deck as he lumbered up the stairs, sword dragging behind him. His skull and chest were marked with a deep flickering red, but he looked around as if he couldn't see at all, hand gripping the deck where the stairs ended. A deep growl emanated from him as he stared blindly in the direction of the battle.
Their fingers tap on the surface of the bomb, keeping a good grip on it. Their hand will suffer a little, but it'll be worth it to see how Graymarrow deals with a blunderbomb point blank to the face. Junior makes no attempt to move or jump, but they hold an air of readiness to react to whatever he might do. "Yes. But both ends have to be the same gem. Extracted from the same ore."
"No you may not." After Graymarrow just squeezed the hell out of their head, they're going to need to reinforce the mask- or it may be high time to swallow their pride and ask Ruth to fix it. There's a lingering anxiety of the judgement they'll get for such a scar, or that the crack will be too big to fix, and Flameheart will keep them closer just so they won't get hurt.
Junior doesn't budge or lean away as Graymarrow leans in, but they glower at him, turning their face down just slightly to force him lean down some more. At just... the perfect height for the blunderbomb.
Graymarrow didn't seem concerned in the slightest about the blunderbomb, overconfident that it wouldn't affect him in the way Junior hoped. He'd handled much worse, and will continue to do so for as long as he sails the sea. Even with their squirming away, he continued to come closer, his own gem glistening as he focused in on their mask. Curiosity bubbled up inside him, his free hand twitching like he had to restrain himself from pinning them again.
"I'm sure you understand, but I really wasn't asking, lad." He drawled with a sadistic grin audible in his voice. He didn't strike just yet, perhaps waiting to see if they'd comply willingly. Their subtle guidance worked and forced him to get even closer, the floorboards creaked under his shifting weight. The back of Junior's coat brushed against the wall next to the door frame as they steadily ran out of backing-up room.
Graymarrow, giving in to impulse, seemed as if he was about to make a move to pin them again, his grip tightening suddenly on their arm.
What a silly habit of his, speaking aloud to the ship as if it could talk back to him -- words spoken into the cold air or in response to those small sparks that prick at the metal across his body. His fingers brush against the necklace hanging around his neck, humming as he observes the entire damage done to the cabin.
Even the bed in the corner of the cabin is tossed into a state of disarray. He has a feeling if the desk and statue were not bolted into the deck those too would be tossed about. The blood is hardly a problem, a common sight within the places he lingers -- a scent that still tingles his sense of smell.
Bit by bit Flameheart works to pick up and clean the cabin -- placing scrolls back in their place, picking up the discarded journal he must remember to bring back to the Hideout. No deep secrets within the pages, but still contains information most pirates would not need to know.
He only stops when finishing up adjusting the maps that were torn in places. Ancient maps that held secrets only his eyes could interpret with the assistance of the knowledge gathered.
The fire within his eye sockets dims, a mimicry of the closing of eyes. Standing between the desk and the towering statue of his image. Months of being cooped up, collecting the work of pirates with the only use to gather the knowledge he desires, unable to use such a magnificent warship and weapon. Even after all this time, he still occasionally stumbles on his feet -- nearly a decade of being without a physical form does such things -- the exact thing that happens as he moves to observe his portrait.
Close enough to see a deep cut within the frame. So. . .
Flameheart roars, the fire within his chest becoming a raging inferno, “ Those pathetic pirates destroy my flagship and all they come back with is ONE RITUAL?! ” Bits of the fire fall to the deck beneath, merely simmering before burning out.
The ship rocked gently as he cleaned, the waves lapping against the warship's belly. The mess quickly subsided, simply picking up the furniture was more than sufficient. Chains and loose metal that hung from her body jingled in the wind like chimes, adding a sense of tranquility to his silent tidying.
He was so.. so small. So delicate, but oh, so powerful. It was almost entertaining to watch him clean, there was something so uncharacteristically domestic about it. As he cleaned, though, his irritation grew more and more tangible, the air prickling once again as if mirroring his thoughts.
..And then, with the sight of the damaged painting, came the eruption. The inferno blazing up from within his chest was exhilarating to watch, such an impressive display! His flames danced along the floorboards, flaring up in places before they died down.
You are fantastic. The floorboards crackled where they were burned, eerily popping and creaking, the edges of the boards curled up subtly in places as if magnetically drawn to Flameheart's body. A bell tolled as wind jostled her mast, the ropes that bound her sails tightening in response. A tense feeling crept up from the depths of Flameheart's psyche, possibly acting as fuel for his rage. Yes, indeed, those fools were worthless. They should be destroyed for their treatment of his glorious flagship. Doesn't the rage feel good? Aren't you furious? They should be found. Now. Right now.
The Undying and Junior can at least agree on something- neither wants the company of the other. They appreciate the atmosphere becoming lighter, it helps with what may be going down soon enough.
"I'd like to see you say that to his face." See what happens when he melts his trinkets to nothing and scorches his soul. Junior would pay to see that happen, actually.
"Yes." They huff, showing no sight of fear. Are they really not aware of the danger they're in, or do they simply not care that bad? Junior takes note of any potential ways out, but their free hand slips under the jacket, grabbing one of the blunder bombs. "Same as you." They tap the eye of the mask. Their reaper ruby is of a considerably larger cut, embedded tight into their eye socket, chipped a little smaller every new parrot they make.
The Undying couldn't help but regain its tension when Junior revealed their weaponry. The air stilled with anxiety, but continued to slowly ease up as it was doing so earlier.
"Hmm..." Graymarrow rumbled, turning to face them fully. Oh, a bomb? How cute. He knew they'd have to squirm their way past his grabby crew if they wanted to leave. They were certainly capable with their agility, but the ship was cramped and allowed for little room to slip by an entire crew. He'd pay to see them struggling to escape the crew's grip... Dismissing that thought, he leaned down to see their face better. Ah, so it was the same!
"Mine's not quite as large as yours. But any gem would work." He mused to confirm that he understood. He could barely see the gem behind their mask. "May I.. see it a little closer?" He asked politely, implying that Junior had a choice.
Noooo-- nonono- Junior holds on as best as they can to keep from being picked up, twisting in his hold and trying to claw at his wrist to be let go. No luck tho. They dangle uselessly from his hand, wisps of soul flaring from the crack like a tiny fire. The reaper ruby is firmly embedded in their left eye socket, shrunk along with the rest of them.
Junior must have been speaking, but all that comes out is a long hiss from the skeletal cat. They don't seem to particularly enjoy being inspected like this, twisting their little body around to be let go, catching Graymarrow's finger in their mouth and biting at the joint.
Graymarrow let out a deep chuckle, loosening his grip on them as they gnawed him. The fury of the kitty was no match for his bone density, so he wasn't bothered by their claws and teeth. If they chose to, they could slip out of his grip and be lowered to the floor, OR they could take up a perch on his jacket.
"I wouldn't mind you being stuck like this for a while. Can't exactly remember how long my spell lasts.." Graymarrow feigned an innocent tone, thoughtfully stroking his beard. "Till then! You'd better hope you're a good mouser, that's about all you'll be able to do." He spoke with naive confidence, forgetting about their silly parrots for the moment.
No. . . his flagship is in no shape to be returning to the fray of battle. What a shame, considering he had the thought of taking her out for a sail -- needing to get out from the Hideout more and what better way than to sail upon his own flagship. For now, that is out of the question.
His touch lingers near the afflicted area, checking it to see what sort of repairs would be needed once the Shipwright could be summoned to the island. From there, in one graceful jump he aboard the deck. Now how could these ungrateful fleshies mistreat such a powerful vessel? They should find it beyond an honor to sail the massive warship, treat her with the upmost respect. Young pirates these days. . .
“ Seems the Warden is going to have new guests once I find them again. ” Eyeless gaze immediately notices the improper care for the sails, another growl as he goes to properly secure the sails. Makes him feel the age his bones are -- complaining about the disrespect of the younger pirates.
“ There. . . ” Flameheart huffs. He steps past the mast, a brushing touch before heading into the captain's cabin. Yet another disappointment -- although, it does not evade his focus that the statue itself is still in good condition and the painting is straightened, “ Well, at least one thing has improved. Feeling better? ” Words spoken aloud again ; a question posed to nobody in particular.
Her hull groaned as the waves let her drift back from touching the dock. The previous crew did bring back a hefty sum of knowledge, but they were far too sloppy when it came to operating her. As he stepped aboard, the air around him began to feel like static again, prickling at his jewelry and the buttons on his jacket.
Yes, the cabin was a mess. Other than anything that was bolted down, things were jostled out of place with blood splattered against the walls and doorways. His question logically would have fallen on deaf ears, but the calm lack of her mast thudding seemed to answer him. It was... comforting to have him aboard. It had been so long since she'd been sailed by her real captain. These pitiful excuses for pirates were nothing compared to him. Despite her injuries, she wanted to go. Every moment she was idle made her feel like she was going insane, waiting endlessly for something, anything to happen.
These feelings stayed locked away, her ferocious heart trapped in an inert body. She'd give anything to be able to unfurl her own sails, operate her own body by her own will, to raze the Sea to ashes.. And all that lay beyond the Shroud. If there ever were such a place.
For now, she would simply enjoy her captain's company. His desk looked rather inviting, his scrolls and trinkets just begging to be tidied. The wood floor offered a gentle creak, as if beckoning him closer.
Such is the attitude of one who's lived by tales of pirates. The son of the most feared pirate, who's seen what such man is capable of, and yet had never been the target of such excessive violence. A logical part of Junior knows they're not safe. That at any point, this can turn very bad. They're willing to burn this whole place down and die right here. They roll their sockets as if there was any eye to do the gesture as they feel Greymarrow squish their spine against the edge of a table- fat bastard.
"Any can work." They tap the sapphire on Greymarrow's socket. " Needs to come from the same one, so make sure you can make enough shards. Junior grunts at the smack on their back, bringing a hand to hold their mask in place. They glare at the other, the licks of soul seeping from the eye slits of the mask.
Junior allows Greymarrow to drag them behind him, taking the excuse of how badly the Undying wants them out to oh so subtly stumble to a side and pocket a tome under their coat. That's theirs now. For being a bastard. "My name's Junior." Just in case this geriatric skeleton doesn't remember.
It'd be funny to smash a firebomb to his face, watch that old ratty beard go up in flames. They briefly wonder if it'd hurt the Undying too.....
Graymarrow didn't seem to notice their swiping of his tome, and if he did, he must have been generously letting it slide. As expected, the Undying was thrilled to be rid of Junior soon. The pressure lightened up on them, intending to guide them outwards. Having visitors was the worst. It was... odd, though, that they seemed to understand him like Graymarrow could. The Undying was far too guarded to get curious about them yet.
"Junior, eh? Your father wasn't all that creative, was he?" Graymarrow joked, ducking out of the door of his study. Despite the larger construction of the vessel, he still was much too chunky for its doors. He reasoned it'd be fun to see their magic in action, but he'd have to dig through his loot to find a worthy gemstone... Hmm.. He paused, slowing to a stop. With their sleeve still gripped in his talons, he slowly turned to look over his shoulder at them.
"Ye said.. that a gem is needed, didn't you? If I may ask.. Where is yours?" He was usually pretty threatening, but the dim light not reaching quite up to his face added a pinch of unease to the situation.
The skellie is ignored by their master as well -- Chi finding it hardly any reason to pay mind to the glances of the guards lest they start making loud noises or forming sentences to alert them of something oncoming.
“ I prefer a challenge for fights, rather than those cowards merely sailing for those companies, ” No, life would be rather dull without more thrilling targets to hunt down and fight against. Less enjoyable to break down those with weak moral compasses -- the Athenas made wonderful targets for a fight but also to break down their minds through physical and mental torture. Get a whole group and they will be broken souls ready to be molded into perfect followers.
The ashen skellies around them react to the voices that get closer, all growling out and at first trying to move in the way to protect their master. Which, such actions are ushered away with a hissing growl from Chi, “ Back to your positions! ” They merely snort at the whispers they hear from the skeletal lord -- he can do what he pleases with whatever magic he has. They will use their strength, the tactical advantage they have of unleashing hellfire upon these pirates.
The Warden moves forward, embers rising with each step they take. No weapons are needed, their knives and eye of reach long ago abandoned. Instead, even without getting a precise location, a chunk of fiery brimstone is created before being launched into the air -- taking seconds before it crashes down and causes a few of the pirates to run out of their hiding spots. The rats currying out of their nests into the open. A perfect spot to be slaughtered by blade or burned by ashen fires.
“ Try to keep up, ” a tease before launching themself forward, slamming their entire weight and body into the nearest pirate.
As Graymarrow spoke into his charm, skeletons dressed in tattered ribbons squirmed their way out of the sand, weapons at the ready. He watched as the fireball soared through the sky, landing a direct hit on the pests' little hiding place. It was fun to see them scatter, and he focused on just one- A skinny little thing armed with two daggers. His skeletons popped up in front of her, catching her ankles just enough to trip her onto the sand. For a moment, he caught right up and attempted to grab the little scoundrel, but she escaped his grasp.
The poor pirates to take a direct hit from their attack were flung, some hitting rocks hard enough to totally daze them. It was difficult to tell, but there were likely two or three different crews, Graymarrow noted this and tried to identify the captains without any context to work with. Chunk- a dagger was stuck into his leg, only causing him to slowly turn his head down to the thing. He gave a snort, then a bellowing laugh as he kicked the pirate in the chest, unaffected by the little stab. As he laughed, he was slashed in the back by another pirate's cutlass. He whipped around quickly, swinging the flat direction of his sword to thwap the attacker.
"Ah, Warden?" He called, "may I ask which are your prey and which are mine? They dress so alike!" Mostly, he was curious which ones he should go for first to ensure they don't escape. He caught this stunned pirate by the shirt, dragging them up as he crouched in an attempt to restrain them. They fought, but he managed to get an arm around them, trapping them against his ribcage. Meanwhile, some of his skeletons were silly enough to get caught in Chi's onlslaught, crinkling into dust as their souls were whisked back into where Graymarrow stored them.
Chi was easily at an advantage, but the pirates were more than ready to fight dirty.. From the shore, a small sloop crept out into view, pirates visibly scrambling around the cannon facing the island. Were the little freaks going to.. open fire?
🐱 - "There! That'll teach you to steal charms from me, you sly little kitten."
This is definitely not a trick they expected. The transformation is not painful, as much as it's incredibly uncanny- in no time, Junior's perspective of the world is much, much smaller. So much so that they're buried in their own clothes, and a little skeletal cat head pokes out from under a hat much too big for a small creature. They look around, spotting Greymarrow and standing still for a second.....
Before they dart at him with the intention to claw his stupid gem eye out.
YOINK! How cute... Graymarrow seemed to be familiar with vicious felines, picking them off of his body with the slow rrrrrip of their claws being peeled off of his fabric and hair. He held them straight out, legs dangling helplessly.
"You know, I like you much better this way! Yer certainly cuter!" He turned them around side to side to inspect their little body as they flailed angrily. He was gentle, and couldn't help but notice a concerning crack along their skull. "I must know.. can you still speak?"
Krowe squawks as they're thrown to the floor and off the wheel, blinking the sleep out of their eyes as they scramble to stand up. The Moray had decided to jerk into a much slower pace- something much out of the ordinary for a ship like her.
" Gah- I'm up! I'm up! What's the problem?! "
Scrambling to their feet, Krowe just barely manages to put their hat back on before they hear the bell. Frantic ringing- something in the water. They pat the mast as they adjust their peg-leg, walking over to the side of the ship to peer out and see just what had gotten her attention-
Ah. Her beak is left hesitantly open as she stares at the... very strange sight coming onto their port bow. A rowboat that was practically *sinking* into the sea, and a hunched.. figure sitting within. ( By the Old Mother, they REALLY have to get something for their sight.. ) Leaning over as the ship comes to a pause, talons grip the back of whatever coat the other was wearing- tugging them up onto the deck of the sloop.
" Now wha' are ye doin' all the way out.... "
Their words trail off, upon seeing that the lost pirate they pulled up was, a skeleton. A rusting, kind of sunken looking skeleton. Their head tilts, looking them over before they continue speaking.
" Ye alive in there? " They quietly muttered, tapping a talon on their skull. It's not every day you come across a lone skeleton on the seas.
Water... water... so much water.. Boat's heavy.. so heavy..
The pathetic skeleton was as sore as a skeleton could possibly get, exhausted and sleepless. Not that the undead needed any more rest.. The scuzzy figure lay with his soaking wet jacket hardly on, his shovel gripped in his hands with whatever might he still had left. Like an angel, beautiful light flooded his vision, and for a moment he didn't feel ready to leave behind the delicious treasures of the Earth.. not yet, damn it!
Hrk- He was hauled up onto the sloop, and he dropped to the deck with a heavy, dull thud. He looked very dead, gem-clad eyes gazing blankly at the sky. ..Save the treasure.. Boat's so heavy.. Boat.. Boat! The gold! The skeleton rather startlingly scrambled to his feet, head looking frantically around for the rowboat he had just been fished out from. With a loud, clumsy stumble to the edge of the boat, he had just enough time to watch the rowboat slooooowly slip under the gentle waves. His gilded jawbone hung open in stunned silence for a moment, reacting as quickly as one would to step out of the way of a tree growing.
Without so much as a 'thanks for saving my life', he dropped his shovel and pulled off his jacket, looking like he was about to launch himself overboard into the gluttonous depths.
