S.S The East Pacfic (Titanic RP)

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1

June 7th,1912
Insulmin Docks, Insulmin, Mexregiona

James Cunningham a regular at riding ocean liners stood at the ticket booth, Silver, curly hair hangs over a long, lived-in face. Expressive amber eyes, set charmingly within their sockets, watch slowly over the wildlife they’ve been isolated from for so long.
Smooth skin elegantly compliments his hair and cheekbones and leaves a captivating memory of his fortunate destiny.

This is the face of James Cunningham, a true opportunist among humans. He stands tall above others, despite his strong frame.

There’s something incomprehensible about him, perhaps it’s his patience or perhaps it’s simply a feeling of shame. But nonetheless, people tend to become his friend, while hoping their sons will grow up to be like him.

“Good Day Sir , I would like a ticket for the upper class” he says to the booth attendant " Surely sir, welcome aboard the Red Star Line SS East Pacific the newest and unsinkable ship" the attendant say’s with a Erie smile on his face. James walks twords the deck of his ship , this was his first trip to asendavia and he was really excited, as he walks up the stairs to the entrance to Deck C which was the beginning of the Upper class area. " Good day my dear beautiful ship must I say" he says to a women " Indeed it is a beautiful" she says smiling back before she disappears on the ship. He moves his stuff to the cabin near the rear of the ship. “So few lifeboats I wonder why, I understand she’s unsinkable but anything is possible” he thinks to himself before unpacking his clothes.

(Everyone can join Open Rp)

2

((OOC: For further reference, 1912 Mexregiona was nothing like what it is today. Unlike many nations, the Union didn’t have a modern government until 2016 A.D. (12016 H.E.). Before then, the nation was run by figures that were tasked with keeping the islands intact, and not much else. The country was referred to as a Confederation rather than a Union. There was no written language, even in 1912, so there wasn’t a reliable way to communicate other than to speak Latin. Although this roleplay is feasible, I’d just thought I’d let you know.))

[spoiler]http://i.imgur.com/aMbgLYC.png
[/spoiler]

3

June 7th, 11912
Insulmin, Mexregiona

Count Terje H. Ingvar, Count of Gjøjøen, was returning from a business trip to his summer home. He picked up his fancy cane and top hat, and walked up to the ticket booth. “Good morning! I’d like a nice Upper-Class ticket.”

He took his ticket and checked it twice to make sure it wasn’t any inferior. Only serfs travel in Economy. he mused, wondering why Atlae had such high worker regulations. He had to pay his workers and give them benefits! And still they went on strike on a regular basis!

Next chance I get, I’m moving my company back to Asendavia.

This was the maiden voyage of the S.S. East Pacific. It was said to be unsinkable. So obviously he had to check it out, right?

Well, it was very impressive. From the first few minutes looking, he had found 4 dining rooms, 3 swimming pools, 2 petting zoos, and a diamond in the lobby.

But what mattered was speed. He wanted to get back to Asendavia quickly and he had heard of some accident involving a fishing boat that delayed stuff.

He opened the newspaper. Good, real estate in Asendavia is great this time of year.

4

June 7th, 1912
Insulmin, Mexregiona

Oddbjørn Zharkov, grandson to the Duke of Yoria, was returning from a vacation in Mexregiona. “It’s a shame I have to leave now. It’s such a beautiful country here. Maybe, I should buy a home here. I’d have to bring it up with Grandfather though,” Oddbjørn sighed. His Grandfather wasn’t a particularly hard man, and he loved him like any grandson should love their grandfather, but there was something about him that unnerved Oddbjørn.

He shook his head and brought himself back to reality. “That’s enough for now. First things first, I need to get home,” he muttered. He looked up from the ground and saw that the ticket booth was quickly approaching. He stopped in front of it and nodded. “Upper-Class please,” He was handed his ticket and he quickly pocketed it.

He hurried onto the ship and put his belongings into his room. He sat on his bed for a few moments and then got up. “I might as well look around,” and look around he did. The first thing that piqued his interest were the swimming pools. Oddbjørn had loved to swim ever since he was a child. His father, himself the third son of the Duke of Yoria, once jokingly remarked that Oddbjørn learned to swim before he began to walk. Remembering the good times made him smile, recently, times had been tough, especially with the death of his father. For him, it was better to dwell in the memories of his childhood than it was to deal with the present. When he had learned of his father’s death, Oddbjørn didn’t cry or react in the expected ways. Instead, he stayed silent. The next day, he drank the pain away and cried to himself for most of the day.

By now, the bad memories had caught up with Oddbjørn and his eyes started to tear up. He hurried back to his room and locked himself in. The memories began to overwhelm him. The death of his older sister, when he was six, the death of his younger brother, when he was twelve, and the death of his father, just a few weeks ago, soon after Oddbjørn had turned 24. He began to sob hysterically and he found that he couldn’t stop. With his back against the door, he sank to the floor. He sat there for whoever knows how long, and when he finally stopped crying, he slowly started to stand up, using the wall as a support. He staggered over to his luggage and quickly pulled one of the bottles of akevitt that he had brought with him. Without bothering to get a glass, he began to drink from the bottle, not caring how much he drank.

After he was done, he closed the bottle and put it back with the rest of his luggage. He feebly managed to take off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed, fully clothed besides his shoes. The tears began to come back and he silently cried himself to sleep.

5

OOC - I’m working a 26 hour shift Wednesday into thursday, packing thurs/friday, and i’ll be working at a concert on the beach Saturday into Sunday - Long story short I’m doubtful i’ll be able to post before next Tuesday unless I can find time inbetween, so don’t feel a need to wait for me on how the plot goes. I’ll adapt.

[hr]
June 7th, 1912
Insulmin, Mexregiona

“Right this way, Mister and Misses Alan.” beckoned a steward, showing the couple their room.

“Wonderful” commented Andrea. “What about the maid?” The older looking female human looked, smelled, and acted like upper class bliss. A blonde long wavey hairstyle coupled with a rather extravagent dress and makup. Her husband was dressed like a CEO - because, well, he was.

“Miss Vasiliev’s quarters will be down the hall, in the servant quarters. We’ll set up a line for you to ring her should you need her after you dismiss her to her quarters.”

“Wonderful, send her up after she gets situated, would you?”

“Of course, mad’am.” The man bowed and left. Andrea turned to her husband, “Simply wonderful city, no, dear?”

“Of course love, Unfortunately I didn’t get to enjoy as many sights as you.” He smirked, looking over some recently printed business arrangement.

“Psst, I imagine I make it worth your ti-…” She was cut off by a knock on the door, before a younger Vulpine female in a apron entered. “You summoned me, madam?”

The lady caught herself, turning to the maid. “Ah, yes, I was simply wondering how you liked your quarters.”

“They are very gracious, Ma’am.” replied the vulpine.

“Wonderful” Andrea smiled, convinceably so. “You’re dismissed to your quarters then, We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” The vulpine ducked out, back down the hall before Andrea returned to her husband.

“Wonderful investment if I may say so myself” her husband replied, referring to the creature that just departed. “You could certainly use more help around the estate.”

“Certainly, Plus her kind are a…rarity in our part of the North Hills, She’ll certainly make us more noteable among the neighboring estates.”

“Dear, I assure you ours is already the best.” Replied her husband. “In any case, I should finalize this before I get to bed.” He returned to his paper, leaving his wife to explore their accommodations.

6

Lookout Elbert Taylor was excited to be able to on the mighty S.S The East Pacific , he had White, oily hair clumsily hangs over a strong, excited face. Glistening hazel eyes, set gracefully within their sockets, watch vigorously over the sea they’ve kept safe for so long.
Fire has left a mark reaching from the top of the left cheek , running towards his right nostril and ending on his right nostril leaves a delightful memory of his fortunate destiny.

This is the face of Elbert Taylor, a true challenger among sailors. He stands alluringly among others, despite his brawny frame.

There’s something extraordinary about him, perhaps it’s a feeling of comfort or perhaps it’s simply his odd friends. But nonetheless, people tend to take pride in knowing him as a friend, while hoping their sons will grow up to be like him. He walls into the look out room Good Day, hope we catch a pacific drift" he says to another lookout jokingly . The S.S East pacific is the largest ship of its time, unknown to the passengers were the shortage of Lifeboats, and the Flaw in the water tight Compartments as well as in the center of the ship.

[hr]

A young man by the name of Nehemiah McConnel, was a Kuthern immigrant leaving dictatorship for asendavia. Chestnut, straight hair neatly coiffured to reveal a lean, time-worn face. Piercing black eyes, set graciously within their sockets, watch delightfully over the wildlife they’ve rarely felt at home at for so long.
An old tattoo resembling a small wolf is subtly placed just below his right eye leaves a captivating memory of his ex-love.

This is the face of Nehemiah McConnel, a true challenger among humans. He stands gracefully among others, despite his heavy frame.

There’s something charming about him, perhaps it’s a feeling of shame or perhaps it’s simply his friendly demeanor. But nonetheless, people tend to shower him with gifts, while trying to please him. “Hello could I get a Lower class ticket the cheapest you got” he says at the booth, “Sure here you go thanks for using Red Star Line” he says back. He looks at him in a weird manner before walking to the entrance to the lower Compartments.

7

Insulmin, Mexregiona

Emilio Markka, cousin of Markka II, hesitantly walked up to the booth and ordered a first class ticket. He summed up most of what he had to buy this ticket
Jeez if it wasn’t for my damn cousin I would’ve had all the money in Isla (The slang for “the home Islands”) but no, he had to drink the other glass of wine so he survived

He mumbled under his breath. I need to go far away from here before they start searching internationally Emilio quickly made his way toward a walkway and got on the ship

8

A decade after the conclusion of a bitter half century long war with the Morstaybishlian Empire, the Oan Isles was still scarred. The economy had been badly damaged, the social and political fabric, especially after the enslavement of 1 million Oan and Konoan people, took superhuman effort to keep from falling apart. The people not only struggled with the scars of what they had lost during the war, they were struggling to learn to live together. Although they were all Polynesian and citizens of “The Oan Isles”, they had different languages, cultures, beliefs and interests. Uniting people who were stretched across the biggest ocean was a monumental task, a task that Defender Aotearoa II knew would not be completed during his reign.

He hoped to forge a common spirit of being “Oan” by cultivating a collective focus among the youth. They were taught two things: how to work and to love your country. Although it was doomed to fail (as the 2017 Partition of the Oan Isles would prove) it held the nation together for over a century. The sharpest minds were sent to the centre of the civilised world, Codex (or what remained of it), to garner skills that would help them make their country greater.

One of the men was a talented celloist, Roatapena, or simply Roa for short. He studied at the Serene Symphonic Orchestra in the Oan Isles before advancing to the Royal Orchestra in Codex. After seeing his skill and determination, he was asked by a wealthy benefactor of the S.S. The East Pacific to perform on the ship.

He was elated. He could barely contain his laughing. Whenever he was excited, he laughed uncontrollably. He was rather small for an Oan; he was considered small for his age especially among the towering giants of his home country who rose 6’5’’ on average above the ground. He has 5’7", a decent height nonetheless. He was shy. He found it difficult to approach people he did not know. Once one managed to open up, he was kind, funny and delightful. He found solace in the cello.

When he reached Insulmin City in Mexregiona, he was for want of a better word, unimpressed. He had been accustomed to the massive architecture of the city of La Rochelle, so it was difficult to believe that a ship that was “unsinkable” could come from such a place.

When he saw it, he gasped in awe. Although the Oan people were capable builders, they had never built a ship as glorious as this one. As he was about to walk onto the long pier that led to the entrance of the ship, the Constable overseeing the entry stopped him.

In his rather ruddy language (Latin), he asked Roa to step aside and allow real guests to enter the ship. Roa tried as best as he could to ask why, The Constable said that no one with skin that dark, with a nose that large, with hair that long and with skin marked with tattoos could possibly be allowed onto the great The East Pacific . Distraught, he tried to reason with the man, but he rudely ordered him to leave. Even upon showing him his ticket, the man obstinately defied him.

Roa went back to street level and sat lugubriously at a shop. He had begrudgingly come to this cold place, to wear their aweful clothing, to speak their unrefined language, to eat their tasteless food, just to play music. All he wanted to do was to play music. He couldn’t go back home. Mr Salazar, who had found him in Codex, had a ticket for him to go back home. If he didn’t get on that ship he wouldn’t see Mr Salazar. He would never get a career as a musician or at least a ticket home.

With all these thoughts swirling in his head, he went to the only place he found solace: his cello. He played beautifully, the maudlin sound of Jahon Strauss’s “4th Violoncello Concerto: Soli Deo Gloria in D#” echoing across the dockyard. The breaking of the waves against the water, receding into the sea and returning, reflected his own troubled spirit. It was a spirit that the people of Insulmin City gravitated to. After several minutes he opened his eyes. He was shocked by the people who were around him and he stopped playing. One of them urged him on, then the whole crowd followed. He gladly went on to play more an more songs, with the crowd throwing money at his feet.

The car of a very wealthy man pulled up beside them…

9

(OOC: The historical context needed for modern-day Tretrid can be found in “Breezes from a day long past”

Justin Bryant was a successful businessman from the nation of Threnorn, having gained a fortune from the use of steam engines and industrial capitalism… He was feeling glad that Latin was still taught in chools even though everybody in the nation spoke Codexian. He was rusty, though. (OOC: an excuse for Google Translate not being good at translating things)

He told the man selling tickets, “Salve mister. Vellem autem primo-genus tessera. Praecipue in S.S. Oriente Pacific.” (Hello mister. I would like a first class ticket. Specifically for the S.S. East Pacific.) Having also brought two children and his wife, he bought tickets for them, too.

After walking aboard the S.S. East Pacific, he checked out his cabin, which had accommodations for him and his family. This would be sailing in style. And, Bryant figured, there would be no danger. He was that optimistic because he thought the great ship was unsinkable.

No one knew how wrong he would be.

10

Nehemiah walked around the deck looking at all the people at dock, they looked so small when on such a massive ship. " Hey there Randy" he says to one of his cabin mates on E Deck, " Good day Nehemiah did you get a good sleep mate " * he replies, * " it much smaller then my bed thats for sure, this ship is massive sucks were still at dock can’t wait to leave" he says excitedly unaware of the coming danger later. He walks towards the bow of the ship attempting to catch a slight pacific breeze through his hair.

[hr]

Lookout Taylor walks away from his cabin taking in the relatively fresh air in Insulmin, he begins his day by clocking into the ship duties and walking to the lookout post to start his day and get everything ready for the cold nights in the North Pacific, the cold arctic breeze always brought bad memories while on the K.M.S Ark Royal in 1901 that had past by a iceberg that was small but large underneath, it scrap the ship but luckily there were enough life boats, something that the S.S East Pacific seem to lack , while reading over the files he noticed that the ship would be carrying 6,700 passengers but only 14 of the 36 lifeboats would be actually onboard supposedly for extra deck space, but something seemed suspicious to him.

**

11

Bryant was on the deck of the ship, looking around. He noticed the extremely low amount of lifeboats, but he didn’t think much of it. He didn’t know how dangerous the low number of the boats would be.

12

Miss Rita, as she was called by her neighbors, was a dazzling woman. She had creamy almond skin. Jet black tendrils of hair licked at the nick of her back. Her complexion rivaled that of a pure Emberwood of Morstaybishlia, even of the Nordic Dovahof. She carried herself with a special grace, an unlearned one, perhaps gifted at birth. Her toes kissed the ground gently when she stepped and her hands glided alongside her torso. She was a marvel. Truly a stunning human being. Her eyes looked past a man, made them shiver when they first met iris-to-iris. She would give a shallow smile as they past, most men standing idle as Rita drifted away. She had a flaw, however, that pushed men back to reason, back to reality.
She was of the lower class.
She had lived in the slums of Insulmin City for the majority of her life. The conditions were horrendous. An aqueduct ran past her window, splashing and gurgling as they contributed to the elite’s infrastructural needs, wants. On the other end of her home there lived a dense organization of unrelated people. Nestled into the Projects, she was, forced to eat plain bread and water from the aqueduct. She covered herself in natural ointment she created from the nearby Project square vegetation to keep the insects away. She washed herself in the aqueduct, out in the open, and at the dark of night as not to get caught. It was a necessity. In Insulmin, the rich leeched off of the poor. The mighty off of the weak. The privileged over the non. Time after time the officials would come through the corridors searching for any left-over bottle of liquid or even the crumbs little children left on the ground. If they were to find any misplaced foodstuffs, the Projecters would pay. But that’s a story for another time.
This was Rita’s chance to get away from the Confederacy, away from her history, her livelihood. She would go to Asendavia, yes, and she would finally be at ease.

13

As Roa held an impromtu concert, a black car pulled up beside him. An elegant and visibly wealthy gentlemen stepped out and slowly surveyed the docks, like a baron lording over his manor. He saw the crowd and walked towards the familiar sound of music. The people respectfully parted to let him through. Roa, immersed in the music and his own emotions, had his eyes closed. Only after a few moments did he lift his head to see why the crowd had fallen silent. Then he saw Mr Salazar standing over him, his shrewd eye analysing him. He stopped and gasped. He tried to talk, but he was so filled with awe and surprise that he stammered over his words.

Mr Salazar slowly ovated, the crowd quickly following with boisterous cheers. Mr Salazar instructed Roa to gather himself and pack his bags, and board the magnificent ship with him. The Constable upon seeing Roa walking with Mr Salazar, was shocked and afraid. He let Mr Salazar and his family through and Roa as well.

Roa was assigned a decent cabin. He met other musicians who had been gathered to perform. The ranged from humans to vulpines, males to females, youth to the old. They were awkward, struggling to overcome the barriers that languages imposed. They used music to bridge the gap. Roa began playing Wulfgong Muzort, a renowned classical Asendavian musician and composer.

They built a bond, relying on each other’s notes and tune, melodies and rhythm to create music that brought pleasure to guests. Roa felt as though everything was great and nothing could go wrong. Unfortunately he was very wrong. For now (as the wine runs plenty and the laughter abounds), love, adventure, sadness and anger would harmonise in a beautiful but tragic symphony aboard the S.S. The East Pacific

14

[spoiler]Oh, 1912? What a time to be Strataric!

Some few decades earlier, the imperialism that had long held the nation captive had smoothly melted away to a republican (the system, not the party) ideology. There were still remnants of imperialism, as representatives of the people had a good deal more power than was reasonable, but it was taking firm steps in the right direction.

There was another way this imperialism still had thick roots: the average citizen’s unshakable nationalism. Almost every schoolchild relished the tales of the Strataric conquerors and heroes of old, no matter their flaws. Each girl wished to have been Veronika Garina, the first Tsarina; Liliya Ivkina, who nursed a Tsar’s ailing son back to health; or Oksana Nikitina, who toppled an empire singlehandedly. Likewise, every boy had his heroes as well: Gennady Dementi, a captain who was instrumental in crushing Bourun’s naval power; Veniamin Sokolov, a commander of men who triumphed over Setznan forces many times; or Alek Gorokhin, under whose rule countless Gondwanan tribes (most notably the Nakahi) were subjugated and brought under Strataric dominion.

Well, not quite every boy dreamed of being these famed men. There was one notable exception.[/spoiler]

The Kingdom of Asendavia would be a blot in his journey, that was for sure. Still deeply routed in feudalism, it seemed to Rishim Rubashkin that Asendavia had never emerged from the dark ages. But, in such a tour as he was taking, this stronghold of archaic belief was unavoidable.

It almost sickened him that he requested an ‘Upper class’ ticket. Such distinction should no exist. In a world of complete perfection, there was complete equality. And in a world of complete equality, there was no upper class.

In this imperfect world, however, one had to seize whatever advantage he could to further his cause. Perhaps one day, he wouldn’t have to.

But not yet.

Rishim’s entire endeavor would be over soon enough, anyway. After completing this one last journey, he would return to Stratarin with a great knowledge of the various ideologies in the world, and how each was flawed in its own unique way.

And then he could finish his book.

15

OOC: Just decided to do a short post to get him out of his room. He’ll be exploring more of the ship so… nudge nudge

With no idea for how long he slept, Oddbjørn woke up with a mild hangover and the distinct taste of vomit at the back of his throat. Stumbling into the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair and clothes were a mess. Suddenly, vomit began to rise in his throat and he hurried to the toilet. He shuddered as he heaved multiple times into the bowl. After the last heave, he washed his mouth out. Heading to his luggage, he took off the clothes he slept in and put fresh ones on. Next, he put his shoes back on and he headed back to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, he combed his hair. Satisfied with how he looked, he exited his room in search of food

16

Nato Moresky purchased a ticket for the lower class part of the boat because that was all he could afford with the small amount of money he makes in Imperial Servos. He worked for hours just to make enough money to buy the worst kind of ticket for the boat. The fact that he is on the boat at all, however, makes him excited to seek new opportunities in the land the ship is going to be headed to. Imperial Servos was just not worth staying in, even with the talk of revolution.

The Servas Hierarchy’s rule has not been able to provide for the populous effectively, and with every new ruler, the populous’s needs are less and less taken care of. Thus, violent revolution has often been a discussed topic. Whether or not the revolution will succeed is yet to be seen. As far as Nato is concerned, it seems to only be talk amongst a few fringe groups which he used to be apart of. Now, he’s using his attendance on this ship to be an escape away from the talk of revolution, and the less than desirable conditions of his country.

Unfortunately, his room has less than desirable conditions as well. He is sharing his room with three other strangers. Each of them chose a bunk, and he was the last one to choose a bunk, so he got the top bunk, which isn’t a great place to be, being that it’s farther to fall down and if one sits up, one’s head will bang on the ceiling. The room itself looks like a boiler room without the boilers. It’s not very pretty at all and it smells really bad. There are no windows either.

He has decided not to spend too much time in that room, so he is currently above deck enjoying the scenery. He is leaning on a railing watching whatever’s out there. He’s just so excited. He’s never been on a ship this big, or a ship at all. Also, it’s rumored to be unsinkable, which is a bit comforting for him. But most importantly, he’s excited to be going to Asendavia to have a fresh start, or in the least, to spend a very long vacation at.

17

Lincoln Jones was a civil engineer from Imperium, South Auroran Federation returning from Mexregonia during his vacation. He decided buy a ticket for upper class because he wanted to experience what his superiors felt like when they travelled in luxury. Due to working long and hard, he had enough money for the ticket to upper class. The South Auroran Federation was a fledgling new nation at this time where the people believed in liberty and freedom. When he boarded the ship, he saw that the ship had very little lifeboats compared to the amount of passengers it’s supposed to take so he was naturally worried. When he got to his room in upper class, it was definitely different than he was accustomed to. It was very luxurious compared to his modest dwelling back in Imperium. He met and talked to other passengers on the deck after settling into his cabin.

18

James Cunningham Starts his 3rd day on S.S East Pacific at dock due to rudder issues, he sends his maids to get most recent newspaper also he could read. He grabs a cup of Coffee drinking it out on the deck while facing the harbors that lead to the great beyond, he meets a fellow by the name of Lincoln Jones who he drunk a glass with at the bar while hosting small conversations.

[hr]

Lookout Taylor reads that she leaves in two days, he inspects the ship and notices what seems be missing boots from the Watertight locks, he decides not to report it in simply because he assumed it wouldn’t later on cause the doors to jam.

19

Knowing his observations of the lack of preparedness for a major accident to the S.S East Pacific, Lincoln Jones asks a nearby crew member of the ship about the lack of lifeboats and if any flaws appeared during his usual maintanence check. Lincoln Jones plans to report the lax amount of lifeboats compared to the amount of passengers on board (which is in violation of South Auroran Federation maritime safety standards anyway) to the South Auroran Federation Maritime Security Board via telegram.

20

Josef Busch was delighted to be on the S.S. The East Pacific. The only problem was that it kept getting delayed. He stared out, looking down at the harbor, seeing all those late arrivals.

A question is asked at him and snaps him out of his thoughts. Something about the number of lifeboats and stuff. Not another darned inspector…

“The number of lifeboats is standard maritime procedure, and there have been no irregularities in our last check.” he snapped dismissively.