[A/N RP] The Black Sun Collective (Disbanded)

[Repenter-argent-dawn]

The Story:
Ratchet was bustling with life, its streets heaving with all manner of peoples, squashed against one another in a buzzing throng of drunkards and merrymakers. Out on the roads which ran between the cities taverns and casinos, there was no room for even an apple to fall.

The port-city throbbed and hummed, as partygoers and wannabe big shots set out to enjoy the dark pleasures which could only be enjoyed in a city governed by the Steamwheedle Cartel.

But whilst the merry folk bounded about the place, others worked from the shadows.

Tucked away from the rest of the city, beneath a veil of darkness, sat an old bar.

Inside the building, life was buzzing and bustling in a very different way.

A haze of smoke and the clinking of glasses, accentuated by the occasional flow of the bottle’s pour, hung about the room.

Those who had gathered in the bar were sulking over a map.

Most stood, arguing,one, however, sat. He stared quietly at an apple in his one hand, his other, long gone, was instead replaced with a bladed prosthetic.Sat at a distance from the others, slightly behind the table,he seemed to vanish in the clamor.He took a slice of the apple, bringing the fruit laden blade to his mouth, as he sat and waited.

A wide parchment, battlefield of lines and crosses and dots criss-crossing the expanse of blue linking east and west, was spread on the table.

Shipping lanes.

In peacetime, veins of commerce and livelihood. In Wartime, often naval assets, grand beasts of the tide roaming the azure plains, either dealing death through fire and cannon, or ferrying men, boys, sons, and husbands from one final resting place to the other.

A door to the darkened room opened slightly behind them, announced by a dull creek. Daring rays of moonlight, glinting off corpse-black waves, stole their way into the room for the barest moment, grappling with the low light of candle and torch. Their struggles were swiftly silenced, and the door slammed shut. The room went quiet, as heads turned to look at the sheer mass of a woman making her way towards the table. Clad in fine silks which hugged her enormous body, she took a draw of her pipe, exhaling the smoke through her nose, as her heavy steps brought her before the map.

She paused. Her eyes flitted over the gathering, one with a pupil of emerald green, the other obscured by the lense of a ruby monocle.

“Having second thoughts, boys and girls?” , lilted her voice out of a jowled throat, a proud Gilnean accent carried through weights both actual and of character, followed by the wisp of smoke which came billowing out of her rich lips.

The hiss of burning tobacco was the only reply.

“Blimey, It’s a good thing the boss didn’t hire you for your wits and conversational skills.”, she continued, offering up a slick grin, which finally broke the ice, giving way to a slight murmur of chuckling.

Some number of those who were gathered in the bar were her own sailors, plunderers and pirates who had traveled with her many times before, but most of the faces were strange and foreign to her.

The woman took a seat, her chair groaning in protest at it’s sudden charge, but holding. The pipe’s stem was pointed towards a particular point on the map. Far from the imposing looking formations clustered up together, far from the clamor. Alone, vulnerable.

A target.

The pipe’s stem tapped repeatedly against said point, before the woman spoke once more. “There’s the catch, gents. Crate upon crate of standard issue, Stormwind forged weaponry.” She took her time to draw a generous amount from her pipe, before expelling out the contents in twin jets of smoke, through her nose. “There’s the catch. It’s of the right size, just like our eyes and ears in the homefront promised us.”

Throughout the woman’s presentation, the seated man continued to eat his apple in peace. He kept his distance away from the candlelight, mostly sticking to the shade, despite the smoke’s haze providing him with more than enough obfuscation. Occasionally, he’d cast a singular gaze over them, brown eye catching candle and torch light in uncomfortable glares, as he looks over the men and women assembled.

None of them had been in their position of employment a week ago. He intended to break the ice, so to say, through this jaded, and far from legal operation.

“Now, you lot know what you signed up for. If you can pull this one off, then the show’s on the road. No backing out. If you don’t, well, you get to go home, assuming that you can make it back in one piece. I…-we, can get the ball rolling with these crates. Buyer’s already lined up, just waiting for the word.”

The assembled nod, quiet. Some of them look to the seated man, who thus far remained quiet, eating his apple slices. He realized that it’s his turn to speak, and set down the remains of his apple on the table. Rising to his feet, his presence seemed to expand, as those closest to him shrunk slightly beneath his scrutinizing gaze. He stepped closer, candlelight revealing a healthy mane of hair despite the increasingly frequent flecks of grey, accompanied by an equally bushy beard. An eye was missing, covered by a red-brown eyepatch.

“Commandant.”, the woman intoned, giving him the room.

“Well.” , his voice scraped out. A harsh tone that belayed little kindness, and much in the manner of pointedness towards facts, objectives. “I won’t strain your heads too much. You lot pull this off, and you’ll be the first of many. The sale goes through, and you all get your shares. Sweat of your brow, and what not. You pull your weight ,and you get what you earn. So don’t you all be an embarrassment when it finally comes to push and shove, else I’ll have to iron out faults.I’ll only be taking the brave.Not the hesitant, and most definitely not the scared.Greed will do nicely, ladies and gentlemen, so long as it doesn’t have you stabbing each other’s backs.”

A small cheer allowed others to filter in, as the assembled added more to the rousing fire within. The night sky aged well, with their careful planning taking place beneath it, before finally melting away into dawn. The two speakers stood at a pier, watching the first rays of light make their exploratory forays into the great blue above, and below. He struck a match, lighting her pipe for her.

“I can’t believe you got me to agree to call you ‘Commandant’”.

He smirked.

“Say, Tess. We’ve not decided on a name for all this, yet.”

“Aye, Sal. That we have not.”

“Well…the sun’s coming up.”, he then looked about, his imaginative wheels straining to spin and whirl, pulling something out of the scene in front of them both. They stood next to each other, her pale mass beside his darkened, yet toned form.

Their demeanor seemed to imply a previous history of shared experiences, from what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Black Sun.”

They both nodded in unison, as the woman exhaled another mouthful of smoke.

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Describing the Black Sun Collective:

An up and rising motley cabal of individuals following a thus far mysterious Commandant and Underboss, mainly rumored to be operating out of Ratchet, but with events in different parts of the world being tied back to them. They seem to be versatile, as far the rumors go.

Smuggling, racketeering, blackmail, even outright raiding. They do not seem to shy away from any of said activities.Rumor even has it they’re taking in individuals of intellectual capability, so long as they are capable of providing their knowledge to benefit the Collective.

Still new on the scene, the Collective’s Commandant and Underboss still work to establish their new cabal,through shady advertisements around the Bay and whispered word of mouth going around the general underworld, and turn their hub in Ratchet into a haven of commerce and those who fancy flights from the law. They seem to be open to dealing and cooperating with other similar bodies, but time will tell,as it does.

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The Roles Within The Collective:

• Prospect: The individuals that the Collective is considering to take on. They have showed some measure of promise, maybe have a bright idea that caught some attention.
• Associate: The individuals that the Collective is working with on some level or another, they could also be working for the Collective itself.
• Muscle: Aptly described. These are the individuals with the brawn and muscle capable to violently reach the Collective’s objectives.
• Craftsman: Those individual talented within a craft, that can benefit the Collective somehow.
• Fixer: Quite simple. These individuals have an uncanny ability to solve issues that arise.
• Trusted: These men and women have managed to gain an almost blind trust from the Commandant and/or Underboss.
• Black Hook: The individuals that act as the many majordomos of the Commandant and Underboss. When the Commandant and Underboss are out of the picture, their word is law.
• Underboss: The Underboss answers only to themselves and the Commandant himself, ready and capable of directing material and manpower as they see fit within the Collective’s drive.

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We expect:

• Maturity :While the whole point of roleplay is having fun of course, we do expect our members to take the roleplay seriously, as we highly value realism in our experience. None of the usual ‘Old town’ type of RP, aswell.
• Involvement: Ideas can only work so long as there are people backing them, the same works here!
• Activity: While we understand IRL comes first, being around and participating in regular RP and events would of course be appreciated.

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Find us ingame under “Bläck Sun Collective” because Blizzard are silly with their language filters.
Whisper Repenter or Tessalyn ingame!

Looking forward to doing business with you!

[Tessalyn-argent-dawn]

That Tess sounds like a real character.

[Tessalyn-argent-dawn]

The Black Sun are hosting a cross-faction RP event, and we would love to see you there! Please see “The Black Sun Brawl” event page, on the Argent Archives for more information.