Traveller

Lair PRO MC Name: Traveller Lair Name: Bucelt’s Bay Proposed Lair Locations (Highlight 3 on the map): EDIT: Originally, our locations were in the south at tiles 108, 109 and 106 but due to feedback we have decided to move our proposed locations to 55 (most preferable), 51,53. The app has been updated accordingly. Lair Lore (could link to an existing creature or other lore) (1000 words minimum): Ainsley Cutler was a disheveled seaman who came from a small town within the borders of the western side of Almaris. His family was made up of lowly fishermen who made little to no coin on their small wooden ships. Tired of this life, he set out to the bustling ‘Heart of Almaris’, Providence. Which was located inside the Orenian Empire. On his way there he would run out of foodstuffs, turning his pockets inside out, revealing nothing but crumbs and dust. Desperate for something to fill his vacant stomach, he was forced to take his red handkerchief from his pocket and wrap it around his face, taking his well-kept cutlass from his belt and doing a road-side robbery on a poor passing lad for some bread. Whilst shoving the loaf into his gob, wiping the crumbs away from his cracked and dry lips, he would stow the remains of the bread into his dusty green overcoat’s deep pockets, he’d realised how easy it was to intimidate the lad into getting what he wanted. He’d sit there and ponder for a moment before coming to a conclusion that he could band together some men, and get what he wanted on a larger scale. Soon after, Ainsley was located inside the tavern in Providence, talking with an ISA lad that went by the name Henry Bates. They ended up discussing over a pint and Henry would come up with the idea of creating a safe haven for bandits, pirates and criminals alike. Ainsley was delighted by the idea and knew such a place to establish this haven. Ainsley would place his mug down on the table, and tell Henry the legend of Oswald Bucelt, legendary seaman and folklore of Ainsley’s village and surrounding lands. He went on to explain how Bucelt was a pirate - who robbed people on the sea and on land, getting his mina whichever way he could, stealing valuables, ships or even attempting to hold important figureheads for ransom. Eventually, Bucelt’s time was running out. He was cornered and his gang was being captured one by one. The scenario would panic Bucelt, causing him to go into hiding. In case he got out of the situation alive, he would travel through the lush green forests of the west to his favourite spot, a clearing in the trees facing the open ocean. The air tasted salty as it blew into his face, his dirty beard and ragged hair flowing in the wind which was howling through the trees. He took his most prized possessions from his worn sack he had thrown over his back, which included his legendary cutlass, handle embezzled with jewels, and a golden skull he had retrieved from a sunken ship that belonged to a great nation. His shaky hands placed these valuable treasures in an undisclosed location within the bay, the most common theory being behind the waterfall located there. On his capture, he would be hung up in the town center of the nearest nation and his body supposedly tossed back into the ocean, where it belonged. Rumours would spread of this pirate’s legendary endeavours, eventually reaching the ears of young Ainsley, who was always fascinated by the seamen he would see with swords on the horizon on their what seemed to be tiny boats and he aspired to be like them one day. On the completion of the tale, Henry perked up and immediately agreed to go and scout the backwoods out with the storyteller. Before the journey was to begin, the men had to make some preparations for the journey. They had planned to perform some criminal activities within Providence in order to earn some mina to acquire some supplies to make the trip. The two would band together to make various plans. By the end of the Saint’s month they had stolen goods from far across Almaris, preying on various people and their fear, soon reselling them to make some coin and amassing a small fortune to their names. Many started to take note of this phenomenon, and shortly after an attempted mugging , the pair were entrapped with guards closing in, and their victims screams filling in the streets, Henry turned towards his counterpart, suggested to Ainsley that they squat in the local slums, he nodded towards the blonde lad, trailing behind as they approached their new haven for the time being. Soon, the duo began stashing and shoveling all their goods into the various barrels located in their new totally legitimate home to keep for resale. One morning, Ainsley had decided to leave the slums earlier than usual. He was currently laying low from a recent escapade in the large city, so he would take a trip to Haense. In the afternoon, he arrived and approached a woman, with one of his usual schemes, impersonating a newspaper journalist and claiming to be creating an article based on crime in Haense. The townsfolk caught onto his act almost immediately, which resulted in Ainsley being thrown in jail by the closest guard. After multiple failed bribes by Ainsley, he was given some pity by the guard and thrown in the local mine to retrieve some materials to pay for his sentence. After this, he was thrown out of the freezing region, and he would return to his usual surroundings of Oren’s capital. He took a walk of shame to the gate, seeming exhausted, tired and more disheveled than usual. Following a short talk with Henry about his eventful day, the two walked out of the main gates of Providence, keeping a distance apart from each other so Henry wasn’t associated with the wanted man, considering he was still a soldier in the ISA. Ainsley would almost get caught a few times and would have to hide his identity by sheltering his face with his grimy and weathered hands. After an exhausting journey, the duo arrived at the fabled Bucelt’s Bay. They laid their eyes upon the waterfall from the story, Henry immediately went to search for the treasures, but Ainsley stopped him abruptly with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t lad, they could curse ye in several different ways.” he’d mutter, in reference to the artifacts. Henry nodded and they turned their gaze towards the wreckage of a ship located a short walk away from where they were standing. Ainsley stated that it must’ve been the supposed ship owned by Bucelt. As the sun set upon the twinkling, bustling olive leaves above their heads, the two men were using the broken hull of the ship as shelter, sparking two planks ripped from the wreckage to create a fire. They set up their poor-quality sleeping bags and scrambled some biscuits and fruit left in the barrels on board the wreck to eat. The plume of smoke could be seen for miles around in the starry night’s sky if one looked hard enough. The following weeks were the picture of the two men bareback with rays of boiling sunlight assaulting their backs and using the tools they had brought to dig out tunnels underneath the shipwreck on which they started to make a living inside. The tunnels were intended for fellow criminals to go into hiding, or alternatively, store their valuables which they had claimed from their many… legitimate businesses. After the foundations of the tunnels were laid out, making them usable, the duo would sit down on the dirt and mud, resting under the shelter of the wreck. They clinked their two pint glasses together and took a joyous swig to celebrate the future of Bucelt’s Bay. Lair Build and Infrastructure (photos required): https://imgur.com/a/R3YMMfM Why can you not accomplish the niche of this lair’s roleplay in an existing settlement or nation? (We expect a substantial answer for this, not just ‘I don’t like them’): On LOTC there is a severe lack of crime RP, and banditry is almost non-existent. This can mainly be accredited to the larger map and strict crack-downs imposed by most nations on the issue of thievery. With it fading out of existence it feels like a part of LOTC’s charm goes along with it. The hope of this project and lair is to rejuvenate the once bountiful magic of thievery and no rules go. The lair is meant for a place for like minded scoundrels to meet up and coordinate a devious plan rather than doing it via discord and to have a place to stash the ill-gotten gains. What does this lair add to the greater world around them?: This lair would give rise to a genre of RP that in my opinion isn’t too common or is extremely hard to find on the server. The aim of Bucelt’s Bay is to eventually evolve into a crime-ridden settlement to give home to Almaris’ worst and most devious along with petty thieves. This would allow people to form gangs easier or plan out heists, robberies and the like IRP rather than OOC through Discord. This would raise the threat of common and more proficient criminals on the server once more, hopefully allowing more crime-oriented RP and events in nation capitals, on the roads, etc. The theming of the lair is heavily centered around buildings, ideologies and moral codes located in various pirate havens in real life from the Golden Age of Piracy, although the lair welcomes all types of criminals. The only other location that would allow this type of style and vibe from the server is Freeport, although it is long since abandoned and is now a permanent event site for the foreseeable future.

The Acquisition of the Skull An artist's rendition of the events. Captain Bucelt ordered another round of cannons - blast after blast. By now, the target ship was almost in pieces. The shouting to be had by both crews was unable to be heard under the constant rain of explosions and debris. Bucelt's crew prepared to board the vessel as their trusty sloop pulled up to the doomed ship. Oswald Bucelt had heard of this ship from the barkeep at the local tavern. It was said to contain cultists of some sort. But that wasn't the part Bucelt was interested in. He was informed of a one-of-a-kind invaluable skull hidden on board in the Captain's Quarters. After learning of this, he immediately gathered his men and set out in search for the accursed ship. They spent weeks on end on the high seas, awaiting for the ship that was supposedly flying a murky grey flag. Bucelt would board the ship first, his men following. Wafting away the thick bellowing smoke attempting to consume his men, he gained vision of the crew of the damned ship - all wearing grey robes with glistening blue accents. He would spend a moment or two greeting the crew with his iconic flair, before demanding to see their captain. A hooded figure approached them from the crowd, pushing aside barrels, crates and fallen rigging to reach the crew. Bucelt grabbed the man by his robe and pulled his hood down, revealing an older man with ash-grey hair and a scar over his nose, with as many wrinkles as waves in the ocean below them. Captain Bucelt shook the man, and forced him to the railing of the ship, leaning all his weight on the old man, as ashes would fall around the scene. He demanded to know where the skull was. The elderly leader said nothing, but one could see the fear within his sockets. "Any o' ye care t' tell me before yer Captain be sent t' the depths?" He gave a quick few glances, before reaffirming his statement. "Any o' ye?!" There was nothing as Bucelt looked around the ship once more. Silence. His crew and the grey-clad men stood there, speaking nothing. After the forever-silence ended, a slice was heard. Flesh being separated. A stream of red would course down the elderly man's neck. Bucelt would give the dying man a slight push, sending him over the edge of the vessel straight into the water, the image of his body quickly dwindling into the briny deep as he sheathed his jewel-incrusted cutlass back into it's weathered scabbard. Soon after, a frightened cabin boy originating from the gathering would approach the Captain - who seemed to be engulfed in flames from afar. He informed Bucelt he knew where the skull was and led him through the destruction and chaos into the serene setting of the Captain's Quarters. As he pushed the barnacle-covered door to one side, he saw it. The skull was glistening above a chair at the other end of the room. Infatuated by it's gaze, Bucelt sprang for it, pushing past furniture that had been moved due to the blasts. One of these pushes had knocked one of the candles over in the once-calm cabin, setting the corner of the room ablaze. The Captain would unhook the skull from it's holder on the wall, the weight of it surprising him and weighing his hands down. As he exited the melting cabin, he ordered the boy to follow him. With the lustrous treasure in his grasp, he strode somewhat calmly through the raven-coloured smog, walking past multiple men jumping ship or their corpses lying on deck to find his crew to already be back on the sloop. He threw the skull to one of his men as he boarded, giving the lad following him a hand down, patting his shoulder as he descended past him. The crew sailed off, leaving the smoke-covered ship behind them, watching the flames bouncing off the waves. They had no idea what was about to befall them.

Bucelt's Shiny Skull An artist's rough depiction of the bejewelled skull. Oswald Bucelt gripped the heavy skull with both of his hands. The skull's lifeless, bedizened eyes challenged Oswald to a competition, one which he would accept. Soon, the decrepit seaman shook out of the trance, not realising that the source was that of the skull. He looked up from the object and zoned back into his surroundings. Drops of sweat were beading down his forehead, dripping from the bristles of hair on his brow onto the grains of sand below his feet like dew on grass on a Summer's morning. Oswald turned his visage back towards the vast ocean from which he had just washed up from. His one-man boat was still sat there, just as it had been two minutes prior. He shook his head once more, pondering to himself why he was contemplating such silly questions in his mind. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw someone sat in his boat, but once he focused his gaze on the boat, nobody was there in his line of vision. The skull fell from his hands, splattering the sand. He would take a well-deserved rest on the soft ground next to the mysterious object. He spent the next few hours pondering the skull before the sky turned a fiery red, indicating the sunset was imminent. Rope-like strands of his inky hair fell onto his face, shading him from the last remaining rays of light that would hit him before the sky turned dark. During the night, Oswald remained sat in the same location, patting the sand and cradling the skull in his lap. Many shadow-men were seen in the corner of Oswald's vision, stood in the darkness. As soon as he turned to them, however, they disappeared from reality. Throughout the night, a lack of sleep was had and the shadow-men got closer. Just before they were about to claim him and drag him into the darkness, the figures disappeared and the sun arose from the cliffs surrounding the man. Unbeknownst to him, ships were anchoring in the sea behind him and their footsteps getting closer were deaf to his ears, he just continued cradling the bejewelled skull. One of the soldiers put his hand on Oswald's shoulder, realising it was the legendary pirate, although he didn't quite look like what he was depicted in the tales. The soldier would drag the wanted man by the collar of his shirt along the beach, with no resistance from Oswald. He'd drop the skull on the beach as he was hauled away, leaving it to stay put in the glistening specs of red on the ground, where it would remain until it would claim a new owner.

Ainsley Cutler had come across the written message on the wall, deep in the sewers on his hunt for the beast that had cursed a man within the city. He'd groan, shielding his burning eyes as he tried to write the words down onto his parchment, although he couldn't.

Ainsley Cutler would watch the ISA march towards the tower, following at a distance, hoping he could get something valuable out of the remains of what would be the battleground.

Sebastian would walk through Erwinsburg, papers in hand, headed straight towards the Bailiff's Office. "Bruce?" he'd mutter as he entered the office, frowning at the man not being at his usual station.