Fantasy On Treacherous Tides & Whirling Winds IC

[kevintheradioguy]

"Of course, cap'n!" Dokkalfar almost read her mind. "After all, if the ship goes down, we all go down. Including me." And he didn't want to jeopardise himself, after all.

As planned, the sail fixing drained him to the very brim. Taking them down, and looking for the holes and tears to run his fingers through them to 'heal the wounds' looked like a trivial task... however, for a man who was running around the ship like mad just an hour ago, mending in any hole and crack from the fight he could find, this was the final straw. The one that broke camel's back. As he did so, he caught a random crew member to pass to the quartermaster what they needed. He wanted to be sure they're stocked, but didn't want to drain their budget too much as well. Thus, he tried to be diplomatic, asking for a couple of crates of yew - softer, for stairs, decks, and any decor (to keep the captain happy); and four of mahogany - for fixing the hull, as well as frame. Resin, varnish, and a set of sails to order; as well as a request to repeat that to him over and over until he was sure that the crew got it right. The time he spend over the trivial job, however, allowed him to tune back into the ship. Absolutely marvellous ability that came in handy more than once in his lifetime. He felt a few cracks in the ship here and there - nothing vital - the worst thing that might happen was that their ship surgeon would have to give out some cough medicine to those unlucky few to stand in a draft.

When all was done, he stood at the mast, leaning against it, and bent down, breathing heavily as if he did a lot of physical work. Thing was, magic drained him as much as running, lifting and jumping would. He had his eyes closed, and inhaling and exhaling deep in an attempt to get some second wind: the day was young, and he probably had a lot more to do. The ship rocked, and wailed, and something felt wrong about it, but before Dokkalfar managed to finally look up to see what was going on... ZAP!

He darted back from metal with a yelp, didn't manage to keep his balance, and fell back, landing painfully on pointy elbows. He looked up, the cacophony of the wind blowing mixing with the screams of their quartermaster, and wailing of the ship. As the ship started arching and bowing, and Weevil - standing up, he once more tumbled on the deck, rolling to the railing, and hitting his back and head hard against it. The hat blew overboard, as he tried to list his head - now spinning, eyes blurry, ears ringing. His arms hugged around the railing, as he felt something crash below deck in the ship, cool water pouring in, like alcohol in a fresh wound. He groaned. "I-i-i got this..." - He said to no one in particular, doing his best to stand up, as he felt dizzy, muscles feeling soft like cotton... still, he had a job to do, however bad he felt after crashing the back of his head over the railing.

He was tumbling, grabbing anything he was close to, to drag himself up, and make his way to the hatch and decks below. "Crew!" He yelled out in a voice much much lower and hoarser than before. "Breach on the lower deck!" His own words sounded to him as if through the layer of water, and he groaned at the pain pulsing in his temples, gnawing his teeth, and looking forwards with dead determination. He knew if he doesn't get down, he'd certainly drown.

​

 

[Birdsie]

Grimgalwas busying himself with research when he started helling yells from the Captain and someone yelling about a breach in the lower deck.

"Curses!" Grimgal cursed. Things around the surgeon's office - including a table with something on it, having the rough outline of a person but covered by linen cloth so it'd be hard to tell - were flung about.

He secured the table by placing it between two other pieces of heavier furniture, then secured the most important objects with rope. Every precious potion or flammable substance was hidden in containers, then sealed into chests. No explosions today.

"Edward!" Grimgal called. In the darkness of the surgeon's office, a red-orange flaring light, feeding sparks into the air, suddenly lit, having the aspect of a bird. Grimgal looked and saw the bird had been sitting on the small arch of his office's door. Edward floated down, flapping his wings twice as he approached and sat on Grimgal's shoulder. The old sage was enveloped, partly, by a flaming aura of his pet phoenix.

He didn't have any implements on hand to stop a storm of this size, unless the captain allowed him to sacrifice the lives of several mates. Menial work, then, while the Captain figured out a way to keep them alive.

Grimgal walked down to the lower deck and picked up a basin, scooping up bucketfuls of water and throwing them out. As he started doing so, he looked at Edward and said, "Evaporate as much water as you can!"

The phoenix released a mighty kaw, and the flame; searing orange, became a deadly crimson, coating the darkness of the deck in pale light. The phoenix began to make rounds near the surface of the water, leaving behind small recesses in its surface and creating a contrail of clouds of steam that would require venting. Still, better steam than water.

He heard distressed yells after a moment, and he grumbled in annoyance. "Edward!" he yelled. The phoenix returned to Grimgal's shoulder.

Grimgal walked up onto the upper deck, droplets of water evaporating as soon as they hit him, keeping him relatively dry, while Edward produced a thick, upwards line of steam without any repercussions. He looked up and saw Sherlyn was stuck there.

Edward seemed to kaw something, and Grimgal said, "I know, I know!..."

Grimgal took out a small, wavy ritual dagger, clearly not meant for combat. He grit his teeth visibly, put the cold implement of sacrifice to his wrist, then made a fast, hard motion. Blood freckled what little of the deck it could before the water cleaned it off, but the sacrifice had been made. Blood flowed from his wrist still, and each drop was metaphysically transferred into power within his soul.

He felt the power, coiling around his wrist, going through his veins, pumping through his heart. Now, he just had to focus it.

He cast his will against the world, created a container for his power underneath the woman. "On three, you have to let go!" he instructed. "No hesitation, just let go!"

"One, two..."

He let the power in his veins, his heart, his soul, flow into the container, forming a phantasmal lens of [Wind] underneath her, like a whirlwind trampoline, not intended to hurt or create motion, but rather to instill inertia and stop movement. Not all at once, since that'd be no different from the floor, but to gently catch someone and envelop them, slowing their movement like someone jumping into translucent goop.

"THREE! LET GO, NOW!"

He realized the image, and the lens of wind became a reality, ready to catch Sherlyn. In the case she couldn't untie the rope that bound her, Edward would fly up from Grimgal's shoulder and burn through it for her by using one of his talons like an acetylene torch.

Mentioned: Fable kevintheradioguy
Interacted: BackSet

 

[BackSet]

Sherlyn Thrice-Damn
Let's Go

Spoiler

Any normal person probably would have shouted "are you crazy" at the wizard. But, then again. any normal person would also know enough not to travel with this lot. But Sherlyn was not a normal person so she didn't shout "are you crazy" and she did travel with this lot. She simply prepared to jump now that she had a semi-safe place to land.

The rope was easier to get untied than it was to tie. It wasn't really particularly well tied in the first place because, again, rain. Therefor, it took almost no time at all to untie the rope. And when Grimgal shouted "Let Go" Sherlyn let go. Well, she didn't just let go, she jumped. She did it with a little flair too, attempting a small flip and probably not succeeding (but hey, it was an effort). She landed in the... wind? She couldn't tell what it was but it got her to the floor safely.

Sherlyn stood up, panting a bit but all together fine. "Alright!" She said, checking herself over. "I'm on the ground, or at least, what passes for ground on a ship and still alive! I guess I'll go help bail. I can't exaclty shoot a storm." She then turned to Grimgal. "Thanks for that. I'd love to say I didn't really need help but I absolutely did."

She then waltzed off to find a bucket and help bail out water.

Birdsie

 

[Forgy]

Alcott
Aboard the Whimsical Lady; Bucketing water like a superhero
Interacting with: | Mentions: kevintheradioguy Fable
​

Alcott truly was enjoying the friendly banter between himself and Dokkalfar. Then a few others joined in, but he sort of tuned them out. It was nice to playfully chat and work with his crewmates, but that didn't exactly last long. A quick storm whipped up and all of a sudden: Alcott was slammed against a railing! A grand anomaly had appeared from nowhere at all. "Loathing this, I am."

Thanks to his small frame, Alcott didn't topple over the railing. As soon as he had righted himself and found 'flat' ground, the captain demanded that someone go below and start bucketing water. Oh, such an easy task! However, would it be smarter to manipulate multitudes of buckets or clones? The buckets would be simple enough, but they would surely drain him of his stamina, and who knows how long it would take to flee from this anomaly.

Alcott rushed down the drenched stairs below deck and comically slipping onto his arse. Ouch. A silly POP! was heard for each of the nine clones that Alcott suddenly summoned. He immediately felt the power difference within his original conscience. Thankfully bucketing water was a menial task, and could easily be done with minimal strength. He just hoped someone didn't come down and see this whole gang of him. That might be awkward. Each Alcott set himself to heroically removing water from below deck. What a sight.

"A'ight me, get ter work and make sure we ain't floodin' anytime soon!"

 

[Fable]

( June Verles Birdsie Noble Scion BackSet dazzling Epiphany Vampunk specters Tarmagon shadowz1995 Alteras kevintheradioguy Forgy Dawnstar )
( Moving on, I want to get to where the plot takes off. We'll allow some fun and repairs in Booty Bay. )

As Harper flailed around and squawked about a storm, moving like a chicken with its head cut off and then fleeing below deck she couldn't help but scream, "I know there is a bloody storm!" She glowered wondering if it was worth trying to counter the raging winds with her won magic. She probably wouldn't be able to do much in the grand scheme of thing with a storm this powerful.

"Sherlyn, you're going to just have to tangle yourself up in the rigging for now," Vyxyl shouted out as she heard them cry out for someone to help them down. It was more dangerous to try and move about the ship in this weather. Of course the mad geezer decided to make an appearance and told Sherlyn to let go and Vyxyl wondered what insanity he was trying this time. Before she could shout at them both Sherlyn took the leap of faith and Grimgal actually hadn't let them die. Sherlyn now owed Grimgal and that might make them regret that decision. Vyxyl swore if she had to intervene when he asked for some organ again she was just going to let him go through with it so people would understand you didn't want to owe the old man. ( Birdsie kuku)

She managed to maintain their course, though with the winds they were moving at a strange angle and she could only hope they could bail the water as fast as it was getting into the hull. She would have pulled out a pocket watch to time the anomaly, but that was currently out of the question. So, she was mentally counting which helped her concentrate as well and took her mind off the very real threat of getting sunk.

Then it was over in a blink of an eye. Winds, clouds, rain, thunder, lightning; it was just gone within a matter of seconds. Vyxyl hadn't started counting the duration of the anomaly so she could only estimate that ultimately it had been perhaps around an hour. From their location at the time of the anomaly they had a long ways to go before they would have reached Booty Bay. Yet as Captain Vyxyl looked ahead she could see the port on the horizon.

"Stay the course to Booty Bay," she ordered before stepped down below deck. "Alright scum, we're still alive but that doesn't mean you get to let out a sigh of relief just yet! Get the water out of my ship and plug the holes with your own bodies if you have to. We're close to Booty Bay now and I want the sails shifted to get us there before shit goes further south!"

She went back to her cabin which was a mess with everything being tossed about the room. She managed to locate the relic and secured it. She'd deal with this mess when they docked. She put her desk and chair upright at least and sat down. This was going to cost a lot to fix. Even more to get it done in a timely manner. Maybe she could sell off Grimgal's bird...

---​

Even with the sails gently adjusted so as to not cause further damage it took three hours for the ship to slowly glide over to Booty Bay. They were in no condition for a water docking so they utilized one of the few air docks so that the Whimsical Lady would stay out of the water. "Mister Harper! Birdbrain get your ass over here," she shouted out from the helm as she took a sip of coffee from a mangled metal cup.

Whenever Harper would finally drag themselves before their livid captain, Vyxyl would toss a bag of coins at the bird, probably more than the bird could lift. "Get the supplies needed for the repairs we can handle ourselves, back up sails, supplies the cooks want, and don't forget my fuckin' rum. I'll be trying to haggle for the other repairs and things we need. That is your budget." There would probably be barely enough to get what had been asked for, and that was if Harper and others managed to haggle down prices.

As she went to step off the the ship the glared back at the crew, "Liberty will only be granted when the ship isn't about to fall apart! So I suggest if you want to partake of the fun land offers you best get things fixed."

She left then heading towards the tavern; The Seven Drunken Knights. By haggle, Vyxyl had meant gamble against the people who did the dry docks in this port and clean them out that they'd be more than happy to give a very nice discount on the repairs.

 

[Birdsie]

Grimgal Thrice-Great

"So be it." The wound on his arm had been healed already by the time they got back. Nothing a health potion can't fix.

For four or five chickens, he could probably cast a structural reinforcement spell with blood magic, to keep the damn thing from falling apart any more than it already was, but he doubted his narrow paygrade would allow for that. So instead, he took the route of excusing himself and announced, "Anyone injured, I will be in my office! Lots of herbs and concoctions I have to re-check for safety concerns, and such."

With that, the old man left for the surgeon's cabin.

 

[Rose of Versailles]

Daffodil​

So much excitement wore on the tiny bones of Daffodil, causing her to retire for a brief nap within the pocket of Dokkalfar. Secure within his tight pocket, she tucked herself away and snoozed to regain her strength with her glittering wings wrapped around her little body. All the explosions were gone and her frail heart finally began to rest from all the pitter-patter it had to endure. She breathed in his scent and seemed to slip right into a comfortable slumber with flushed cheeks. She dreamed of moonlight tides where she fluttered above her love, lighting up his face with her glow to see her illuminating reflection in his eyes. She watched as he gazed at her, her little heart beating in rhythm with the sound of her wings. He would reach up his pale hand to her, allowing her to rest in his palm before bringing her to his face. He would whisper her sweet words, promising her all the glory and gold his heart could offer, and then let her small lips place a precious kiss upon his cheek. The little dreaming fairy shifted from her dream, pressing her hands against her pink face. It almost sounded as if a little giggle escaped her as she continued to dream of her beloved Dokkalfar.

It was truly a magnificent dream... And then it ended.

Her pointed ears gave a soft wiggle at the sounds of someone yelling. Was it this bothersome "captain" again? Did she dare scream and squawk at her dearest? Her eyelashes fluttered apart and she reached up to her eyes to rub away the sleepy dew that formed. Pressing her ear against the fabric of Dokkalfar's pocket, she narrowed her tired stare and listened to the "captian" bark her orders. How dare she. The only person that should talk to Dokkalfar in such a tone was trying to nap! How dare she interrupt such a wonderful dream. Wait-... did she say Booty Bay!?

With that, the fairy began to crawl her way out of her sleeping spot. Her face was flushed again. It bore a color of deep red as her anger and frustration grew inside her. How dare she take her Dokkalfar to Booty Bay! That scummy, disgusting, vulgar city where women threw themselves at her beloved and wiggled their big fingers at him to tempt them to Fairy Godmother knows where! She had to stop him before he was bewitched by some succubus of the demon world and taken from her forever!

Her wings thundered in a flustered rage as she released herself from her hideaway. Zooming in front of her elven beauty, she cupped his cheeks and stared into his eyes with determination. "Dokkalfar! My love! You can't go to Booty Bay! You just can't! It's too dangerous!"

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as her face grew even more pink. This captain was too busy whining about some sort crummy rum to worry about the safety of her dear Dokkalfar's heart. How dare she risk her dearest being taken from her! With a dramatic sigh, Daffodil practically slapped herself against her love's face. "Don't worry, darling. I will come with you and keep you safe. We cannot have you at risk with these make-believe sirens! They're birds of prey! Filthy hawks! I will protect you!"

 

[Tarmagon]

Tyr managed not to sag against the wheel as the Lady finally docked, but it was only by force of will that he stayed upright. He hadn't made it below decks to check on the status of the hull repairs, since he had devoted all of his energies to checking the rigging, before the damned storm had exploded out of nowhere. Thrice damned Anomalies. And thrice damned Artifacts that seemed to attract them like flies to carrion. He had joined the Captain at the wheel, and they had struggled to keep the Lady under some semblance of control as the world went mad about them. Despite the Lady being above the sea, huge waves had broken through the temporary patches, attempting to weight down the ship with every surge of water. She had sagged lower and lower with every wave, but had never quite gone hull down thanks to the energetic efforts of the crew.

Somehow, the Captain had managed to keep the Lady moving in what turned out to be more or less the proper direction, no thanks to Tyr, who's normally precise sense of where he was and where he was going was totally scrambled by the tempest of weather and power they were flying through. It had happened before, but never so badly as this. Then, as suddenly as a book slamming shut, everything just stopped. From storm tossed madness to smooth sea in moments. And from days sailing to mere hours, as Booty Bay appeared on the horizon. Tyr's sense of 'place' spun madly for a moment, then it settled, agreeing with the evidence of his eyes. Tyr shook his head, then looked up at the rigging as the Captain left the wheel to head below.

Some time later Captain Vyx emerged, taking the helm for the final approach to Booty Bay, leaving Tyr free to ascend the rigging and get a good look aloft. It, could have been better, but also far worse. He was certain the the Captain would bargain with, or swindle, whomever she had to in order to get the Lady repaired. Descending from the rigging, Tyr moved to secure the wheel as Vyx shouted orders, then headed down the gangway. Having a sigh, Tyr began to assign work parties to the most immediate needs. It was unlikely he'd get to leave the ship before they put back out to sea, as usual.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The man was tired. He was tired after fixing the sails, he was tired after fixing the hull, and now this anomaly. Dokkalfar remembered in his dizzy haze how he yelled to someone to break the barrel and follow him, trying his best to use at least some wood to mend the hull. That didn't help. he was too exhausted, so the more classical method of cloth, nails, and hammers was used to if not stop then slow down water pouring inside. And when the water was being actively bucketed out - not without the gnome's help - he made his way up the deck, and practically collapsed, breathing heavily, and trying to get his breath in order.

It wasn't long after he woke up from the smells only the shore would provide. Wood, alcohol, pastry, meat... the elf groaned, opening his eyes, and standing up. His head was buzzing, as if there was a crack in his skull, and the echoes of all the sounds around were seeping in, hitting his brain like thunder waves. He rubbed his face - dry and sore because of the sun, and winced, covering his face from the light rays, and turning his back to it. He saw the captain leave, and was just about to approach their quartermaster, when a sudden movement attracted his attention, and a tiny creature darted up to his face, babbling about in a small voice. It took him a few seconds to understand what the fairy was saying, brain still groggy after all the work and a half-nap he was having, leaning over the railing just moments before. He inhaled to reply, and in that moment a small body almost hit him in the face, the tiny winged creature promising protection. Dokkalfar lifted his finger, as if demanding attention, but instead placed it over the fairy's torso, gently pushing her away. And for a good reason, as when he did, a loud sneeze cut the air. He sniffed. "Sorry." He said, looking up at the tiny woman. "The dust."

Dokkalfar cleared his throat, and placed his courteous mas on, smiling to Daffodil. He had no idea why exactly she was around at all times, but he was flattered. "Now, Fodi, you know I don't like when you hide in my pocket." He said with a charming smile. "I'm afraid I might fall down or hit something, and hurt you. It's dangerous. I'd offer to get us a nice feathery hat and make you your own little place among the feathers, but..." He leaned over, speaking in a conspiratory whisper. "...between you and me, I think the cap'n might get jealous."

He spoke to the fairy with a surprising lack of condescending subtones in his voice. It was a playful banter, sure, but he knew better than to take the fairy for an idiot, even if her obsession sometimes looked absolutely ridiculous. Maybe at times other people disapproved of that, thinking of her as no more than overly obsessive girlfriend who didn't get the romance was over. This was not the case, however. Dokkalfar was... quite flattered that a pretty thing had interest in him, and if it wasn't for the size difference... well, maybe he would have had a real obsessive girlfriend. But at this point Daffodil looked more like... a pet of sorts. He'd never say it out loud, but the loyalty and clinginess was not entirely unlike...

"And don't you worry, dear." He gave her a big grin, trying to be both gentle and charming. "I don't think there are women in this bay who could compete with your charm, anyway. In fact, I think you and me? We could trick a few of them." He nodded towards the steering wheel. "Come on."

His boots clicked as he walked away from his corner, wincing, and trying to move his facial muscles the best he could. He thought he got a small sunburn, making his skin feel like leather. He looked up, seeing a crooked troll figure in his peripheral vision, somewhat surprised he was still alive and well. He didn't see Tyr for a while, but shrugged his presence off. He had business to attend to. Weevil quickly approached their feathery quartermaster, staying at a respectful distance, and attracting attention via a small wave. Dokkalfar always wondered why the harpy was taken for the quartermaster, as the feathery thing looked... well, anything but authority. It was somewhat fidgety, and looked prone panic, and, yes, Dokkalfar had no idea whether it was male or female, thus avoiding any pronouns at all. "Ey, Harper." He called out, giving him a crooked smile, and nodded to the bag. "Need some help with that?" The elf asked, and chucked. "If there are some lady vendors here, I can quickly put something fresh on, turn on my charm to the max, and goo-goo-eye us some discount if you'd like." He then idly pointed over where he thought the fairy was. "Daffodil will help. Oh! And I do hope that imbecile passed you the right amounts of wood we need."

Rose of Versailles Noble Scion
​

 

[June Verles]

View attachment 567596
After the storm finally stopped and they stopped taking as much as he needed to throw out Grulashk could finally relax, dropping the large pot he used as a bucket and falling on the floor of the ship, breaking a few more wooden boards as he did so. He quickly gets out of the hole and looks at it, he really needed to exercise some more...

For the next few 3 hours Grulashk spent time in the food storeroom, cleaning whatever was broken and preparing whatever surplus he had stole burrowed from the Weatherby. By the time they were in the port Grulashk was making his way out from bellow deck with a comically large sack made out of a sail filled with extra unnecessary supplies that he intended to sell, even he had to do so wholesale.

As he made his way towards the ruffled Avian that was their quartermaster he couldn't help but notice the Bosun and what seemed like a little critter flying around him, which must've been his considerate companion.

"Master dokkalfar an' missus daffodil yoo're plannin' tae join us oan lain? weel th' mair th' merrier isnae 'at reit master harper!" he said as he gave his quartermaster another hearty slap on the back.

Noble Scion Alteras Fable kevintheradioguy Rose of Versailles

 

[Noble Scion]

Harper Jules

Spoiler: Appearance

​

Eventually making his way to their beloved captain after the usual call of his name, lined with some back-handed insult at his expense, Harper was met with her usual displeasured glare at himself, which he'd grown rather used to at this point, but had yet to develop a response other than bashfully locking eyes with the ground until she'd given or said what she'd needed to and left him to his devices. "Yes miss..."

Harper gazed down at the sack of coins with a disgruntled expression, stared at the cloth for a brief moment, then hitched the money up with great difficulty onto his feathery back before tumbling backwards pitifully under its weight and giving a resigned sigh, before looking from his floored position at the elf and fairy amongst their ranks in embarrassment.

"A-ah.. Master Dokkalfar, wonderful to meet you and uh.. That. I don't suppose you could give me a hand in buying the things I need? I uh.. Seem to be.. Lacking the muscle for such a task." Jules mumbled as he shuffled up and pointed to the bag, rubbing the back of his head gently to show that he didn't intend n trying to lift the bag once again. "... And don't try taking any of it, this is to do for our food supplies, repairs and the rum that I'm sure you'll be enjoying later tonight with everyone." the bird warned without even a hint of a threat, seemingly knowing that his idea of threatening was erring more on the side of cute than anything else.

"Help me whatever way you can, Just as long as we get Cap' Vyxyl wants." he smiled meekly, leaving the sack of money on the ground for his new travelling buddy to lift, ensuring that eye was looking in the opposite direction when doing so in a small attempt to salvage what little pride he had in the small amount of strength he had. He'd never liked coins anyway, heavy and useless. Books, on the other hand were filled with knowledge, and knowledge is power! Not that Harper really believed that stuff. Surely the writer of the quote hadn't been born a harpy.

The harpy quartermaster had a little difficulty discerning the orc's words, but getting the gist of it, he gave a small bird hop, as large a grin as he felt like, and saluted. "A-aye!" he cheered, before returning to his more timid posture, held his feathers around him, and set off wobbling down the gangplank onto land with a note of scribbled items they needed, relishing the sensation of solid ground for a moment before waiting for the small party of three and the tiny pixie thing to head on their way to haggle down some prices.

June Verles kevintheradioguy Rose of Versailles Fable

 

[Fable]

( June Verles Birdsie Noble Scion BackSet dazzling Epiphany Vampunk specters Tarmagon shadowz1995 Alteras kevintheradioguy Forgy Dawnstar Rose of Versailles )
( I'm aware many are suffering from end of semester school stuff, but remember that if you are waiting for someone else to post it's better let them know or just post yourself. Feel free to haggle with local merchants yourself, visit the brothel, etc. )

Vyxyl sauntered into the tavern with a grin and as soon as her presence was noted by those within there was an audible groan from a few. She went to the barkeep, one of the madam's girl, and ordered some of the local swill to drink. Taking the tankard she slid a coin over the wooden bartop and then turned to let her eyes pick out a target. She spied some of the local magicworkers at a table in their usual corner. She'd have to put up something very tempting for them to gamble with her regarding labor on fixing her ship.

She approached the group of five men and sat down, no introduction needed since she'd already swindled them before. They glowered at her as she grinned at them. "Look what the rats dragged in," one of them scoffed earning some chuckles from the others. Oh how the insults never changed. "I'd ask why you're here bothering us, but I caught a glimpse of that wreck you call a ship. We've already decided you're paying full price, so whatever your plan was this time isn't gonna work."

"Goodness, can't a girl just enjoy the company of some men these days? If I was here to haggle or swindle prices I would have gone to the current workers who are, as they saying goes, on the clock. If you don't want to deal me if that's fine, I'll just go find some others to relieve me of this." She placed a worn leather pouch on the table that had the familiar sound of coin and shrugged as she went to lift it back up, but a hand held up by one of the mean caused her to pause.

"No trick this time, you open the bag so we can see what you're betting."

She opened the bag to reveal that this time she indeed was betting with real currency. Last time she had used a combination of rocks and other items which had produced a similar sound of coins in the bag and the men had been too drunk and excited to doubt her bid. She hadn't conned them too badly using that trick since if she had they would have been ready to kill her with her current visit, though they could still do that later if they got the idea in their heads.

"Deal her in and take all she's got, even her damn clothes," he laughed.

Let the games begin.

---​

Booty Bay wasn't the largest pirate port, it was actually on the smaller side compared to the others that currently existed. It had a decent amount of locals that lived there year round and a decently busy port. There were a few other ships docked as well, most of which one would call more pirate merchants than real pirates. They were responsible for bringing in supplies - stolen or bought - to Booty Bay. Prices often fluctuated with supply and demand depending on what had managed to be stocked in the port.

Rum prices were currently at an all time high since it had been three months since the last decent shipment. The same for the finer woods for ship repairs. Honestly, the only items right now that were decently priced were food items. Barrels of fresh water, fruit, and so forth. Docking at a port meant that the cooks could provide fresh food compared to when they were weeks out at sea with only hardtack and dried meat rations with grog to drink.

Most of merchants on the island were girl's who worked for the Madam of the brothel and they were notoriously difficult to haggle with, but not impossible. They were used to being the most expensive commodity for many; intimate companionship. It was better to visit the brothel last since you were sure to be broke by the time to left the brothel; at least for most that was how it turned out.

 

[Alteras]

[div class=background][div class=MarFlex] [div class=MarImage] [div class=MarTitle]Marceline Detrovski[/div] [div class=MarMentions] Character Sheet
Location:
Onwards to the Market!

Interactions:
June Verles Noble Scion kevintheradioguy Rose of Versailles [/div][/div] [div class=MarContent]As the group stepped onto dry land, Marceline popped up behind them. "To the market!" She yelled cheerfully, specifically positioning herself behind Harper. She grinned at the group of mates before tapping Harper and poking Daffodil. Their appearances changed instantly into something more... err... less weak. The quartermaster's feathers changed colors to an even more earthy hue, his clothes darker, and his face... err... not much can be done there. His glasses looked more square though.

As for the Fairy... A complete makeover is kinda impossible with her... especially considering we're in a pirate bay... Marceline thought to herself. Nonetheless, her appearance changed to be less noticeable. All the bright and nice colors were changed to a more muted note. And she got a miniature eye patch. Of course, this was all an illusion, so the persons themselves wouldn't feel anything.

Satisfied with her work, Marceline skipped forward in front of the group, turned around, and tossed a familiar looking heavy sack of coins with significantly less weight towards Harper. "Better you hold onto it than Dokkalfar, you're the quartermaster after all. Though, He should hold some of the gold as well, you are a perfectly good mark, letting people walk up to you like that." She tossed a several coins towards the elf, clearly not enough to account for the remaining weight of the original sack. "And I'll hold onto the rest! Don't want a repeat of when you tried to pull out 100 coins for fake book" [/div][/div][/div] [class=background] width: 100%; height: auto; background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/ROvSFjm.jpg'); padding: 5vh 0; [/class] [class=MarFlex] width: 100%; max-width: 1000px; margin: 0 auto; justify-content: center; align-items: stretch; display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap; box-sizing: border-box; [/class] [class=MarImage] position: relative; width: 300px; max-width: 100%; min-height: 300px; max-height: 700px; background-image: url('https://i.imgur.com/UISDgS9.jpg'); background-size: 160%; background-position: 70% 17%; margin: 5px; [/class] [class=MarTitle] position: absolute; bottom: 0px; left: 00px; right: 00px; height: auto; width: auto; padding: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; height: auto; text-align: center; font-size: 25px; white-space: nowrap; line-height: 1; font-family: 'Trade Winds'; color: #271d2d; background-image: linear-gradient(to top, #efefec, transparent); text-decoration: underline; [/class] [class=MarMentions] position: absolute; width: 100%; height: 100%; top:0; padding: 5px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Open Sans'; color: #e5e5dd; opacity: 0; background-color: rgba( 0,0,0,0.65); transition: opacity .5s; [/class] [class name=MarMentions state=hover] opacity: 1; [/class] [class=MarContent] position: relative; min-width: 200px; flex: 1; height: auto; padding: 0px 15px; margin: 5px; font-family: 'Open Sans'; color: black; font-size: initial; [/class]

 

[shadowz1995]

Things never went well when they made port. Pirates were a rather open-minded bunch when it came to who you chose as members of your crew but they were also incredibly superstitious. If you had one of the merfolk aboard your ship, you were thought to be cursed by some. You had some leeway there with some of the more accepting captains and crew. It was rare but you would occasionally see a mermaid on a pirate ship.

But an undead? An undead with the capabilities Oliver possessed? That just downright unnatural to anyone in sight of it. His very quiet demeanor and tendency to stay a respectful distance away from crowds only added to it. On top of his cloaked figure and whatever glimpse you could catch underneath was bandaged. The only thing that was clear was the dull, orange glow beneath the hood. That was as clear as the moon on a dark night.

The crew members went off to frolick and make merry. Talk with merchants, gamble, get drunk, socialize, and engage in pleasures that Oliver could no longer enjoy.

Still, that did not mean he had to be a stick in the mud. He could make himself useful! It was one of the rare times Oliver showed autonomy but the pyromancer decided to hang back and guard the ship from any would be thieves or, ironically, arsonists. It had happened before where a few human arsonists would burn a rival's sails to the ground only for Oliver to be found nearby. Lives had been lost as a result of the misunderstanding and he actually somewhat liked this captain. He didn't want to jeopardize that because of some assholes with torches.

So, there stood the undead mage of flame. Alone, on the deck of a damaged ship, watching the people go by and keeping a vigilant watch on any potential problem individuals. Which, in a pirate bay, was everyone. Everyone was a criminal here. Even Oliver.

(Short but I wanted to get something out.)

 

[Birdsie]

GRIMGAL TRISMEGISTUS

Surgeon's Office > Tavern​

After unfastening the items in his office and taking care of a specimen, Grimgal fed Edward - his pet phoenix parrot - and decided to take it easy. The captain didn't give him any specific orders and he couldn't research the artifact without Harper, and even that may be a foregone conclusion.

He grabbed a bottle of rum and a thaumaturgy book titled, 'The Theoretical Operations of Divinity & Positive Energies' and started to read.

...

Infinite Intelligence, becoming 'aware' of Itself, seeks to experience Itself. Thusly seeding the world with microphotonic (α [and] β) as well as macrophotonic (α [or] β) energy it attunes Itself to the Grand Collective Subconscious Will and becomes resonant with the existing paradigms of LIFE. By rinsing through the energy with magickal operations, one can draw on the very power of life to achieve the effects of the Infinite Life Resonance. Due to being connected with the Grand Collective Subconscious Will, the Infinite Life Resonance operates on a level that is abstract and conceptual rather than physical and scientific, and needs to be approached in that same manner. Knowledge of quarks and quantums isn't useful when dealing with a greater alien system logic (read page 252.)

Therefore--

Grimgal yawned. Damn, this was dull. He didn't learn anything new regarding his attempts at immortality - the best he achieved was using a blood magic sacrificial effect involving the drainage of positive energy from other creatures to maintain his life, mostly by knifing piglets on an altar. He didn't sacrifice birds, because Edward was rather averse to that and would complain any time that Grimgal did so.

He took another book, titled 'Economics For Dummies,' and began to read.

...

If the balance sheet is to balance, every transaction and adjustment must also balance; that is, their effects on the two sides of the statement must be equal. To reinforce the earlier discussion on transaction analysis, consider the following: If a resource (asset) is increased, (a) a source (liability or equity) must be increased by the same amount; or (b) another resource decreased by the same amount; or (c) there must be some mixture of source increases and other resource decreases that equals the original resource's-

"Edward, stop," Grimgal commandeered angrily, flicking the bird away with his hand from where it had been pecking him. Edward simply hopped over to his other shoulder and began to do the same. Grimgal dropped the book and stood up, slapping the avian off his shoulder.

"What do you want?!" he fumed.

Edward cawed reproachingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to try your luck, featherhead? I'll turn you into a hat decoration for the cap'n!"

Edward cawed humorously.

"Hah, you doubt I can? Please. I'd curbstomp you."

Edward cawed deflectively, then cawed again in a questioning manner.

"Fine, let's go. You should have just asked."

The phoenix-parrot floated over to Grimgal's shoulder, where it settled down comfortably, keeping its usually-crimson flame yellow and oddly lukewarm. Grimgal walked to the upper deck and out to the streets, from where the tavern was reached not long after.

Walking in, some lesser men made way for Grimgal, watching his phoenix (who - helpfully - decided to flare up in a slightly fluctuating, scarlet hue,) in awe or fear, depending on the person. After paying an outrageous sum of money for some more rum; two mugs, one for himself and one for Edward, Grimgal took a look around the tavern.

Huh... the captain was playing some kind of game. Grimgal was never much for them, as fun as it was to curse opponents with bad luck and take all... their... money...

Grimgal smiled, taking a chicken paw out of his back pocket. A useful voodoo talisman. He moved it very close to his mouth and whispered incantations, subtly messing up the local flow of entropy and causality.

This simple invocation wasn't a major spell, no. For that, he'd need a hair or body substance of the victims, or an object deeply associated to the causal and situational flows of the area he was affecting; some central piece of the location, like a cross from a church. But in this situation, a major effect wasn't needed. There were six players in that game, so 16,6(6)% chance the captain won, plus or minus depending on how good she was, if she was cheating, how she was cheating, and these same things for the other players.

This simple voodoo rote that altered luck was perfect, because it wouldn't completely fudge the game. Not to a noticeable degree. He didn't make a straight game into a curbstomp, but rather made a straight game into an easy mode. Those five guys would get worse hands, she'd get better ones. They'd get startled more easily, she'd keep a perfect poker face. A little tipping of directions to give her an edge.

In a game of luck, she'd be outed pretty quickly for cheating with magic, but cards weren't a game of luck, at least pure luck, even if luck was a factor.

Grimgal stopped whispering incantations once his mug got delivered, the spell set in place. From there, all he had to do was watch if the captain fucked this up or managed to completely destroy those manlets. She may have been a bitch, but she was his captain, so he'd help her where he could, even if she didn't know it.

Interactions: NPCs ( Fable ), Anyone nearby

tl;dr: Grimgal reads some books and Edward gets bored so they go to a tavern. Once they arrive, Grimgal notices the Captain is playing some game and decides to help her by casting a spell to increase her luck and decrease theirs.

 

[Pilgrim59]

La Noire
Dockyard, Booty Bay

Interacted: Oliver ( shadowz1995 )
Mentioned: N/A
​

Spoiler: Dreams

Lush meadow blanketed the horizon, as the gleeful tweets among the avian populace filled the cool air. Immaculately white apparels, embellished by crimson ribbons and adorned silver waist-sash was a young girl. Her feline ears sprouted from her head, flickering at the mere fleeting breeze, while her jet black tail flared whimsically. Among the joyous melodies of the vibrant canvas, an older figure emerged from the horizon, where the blue sky had met the beckoning field of grass.

The man, donned in faded fatigues of white and blue, approached the feline child. He fell to his knees, as a warm sensation caught her heart. Blanketed by his coat, the child was filled with tears, while the man's faceless visage dwelled within shadows of his tricorne hat. Breaking from his embrace, the child tried to look, but was only met with the warm embrace of the wind. The Maerinian officer had vanished out of thin air. Everything around her fades to a dull and gloomy gray background. She yelled his name, but was her voice was silenced by the weeping wind. Almost as if she had knew who he was, but could not say it out loud. Faint and weary, the child felt the gripes of a remembering-amnesiac - to no avail. A paradox of parathesical revelation. The meadow turned red, as embers set ablaze all around the young girl. Scorched to the bone, the Devil had come to fetch her away, as he did with the man, but this time, it was felt by the girl.

Awakened to the sound of the chirping critters, the necromancer ears recoiled, as her black tail coiled around her waist. Just a dream, a vivid one at that, the feline in black quickly made her egress from the stone cold floor. The air that reeked of salted fish and anchovies, accompanied by the frigidly-warm sensation of the ocean's evening zephyr, were no stranger to the foreign witch, of whom had sought refuge in a cave upon the shores of Booty Bay. Wary of most, the necromancer had made it her mission to stray far from the residence of the port. The voices in her head gradually fade, as fragments of her wistful dreams were all but gone by the time she recollected her thoughts. Restless, the witch dragged herself out of the cave, fetching her sun-dried catch of the day. She took pride in her earnest work, of which were well-rewarded upon the first bite. While not a luxurious and well-refined meal, the necromancer was well-indulged in the moment. After all, she only needed to survive, discerning the efforts that were needed for intricacy upon the arts of culinary. Although she did wished that her food would taste better as time went on.

Having roamed from continent to continent, Noire was ultimately a persona-non-grata, of whom was well-endowed by the Vidonian's grace of mutually-assured destruction. As evident in her light-packed satchel and unique set of attires, there was little the witch could do to improve her living conditions. After all, she was a wanted criminal for multiple crimes, of which would not be exempted or lightly pardoned any time soon. The evening stars, accompanied by the glowing port in the distance drew her attention, never-minding her personal sentiments of social needs. While Noire had placed her life in seclusion as a priority, she still needed supplies to further her research of the arcane arts. Having spent a few weeks in Booty Bay, the necromancer had picked up on the studies of her surroundings. From the lush floras to the meandering faunas, there were certainties of an illustrious escapism for Noire, of whom had needed such distractions to keep her busy.

Ever since her departure from Clearcoast, the necromancer's quest of destruction and meddling with the Vidonis faithful had proven to be fruitless, despite her temporal pleasure in wreaking havoc upon her sworn enemies. What was once a blood-stained creature, was now living a hermit marine biologist life in solitude. In her solemn retreat, Noire found little comfort in her lonesome work, despite making remarkable accomplishments with her research. Perhaps she needed a break, or a purpose to ignite what is now a fading flame of a once passionate necromancer.

Noire sighed at her own woes, working up her courage as she paced herself back and forth in the darkness, before setting her course for the docks with her things in tow. The blinding emission of torches disrupted her vision briefly, as the port began to encircle around her. Throwing her hood over her head, Noire made her way past the crowds, as she set her sights on the general stores.

"Five ounces of dried peppers, two vials of olive extracts, two small canvas and some ink. Please." Noire ordered, as she slid a mix-match of silver and gold coins across the counter towards the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper eyed the necromancer curiously, inquiring upon her origins and purpose of visit, to which she only replied with a dissuading turn towards the exit. To the woman, she had neither answers, as she herself have had no knowledge of her pasts, as did her purpose of visit - aside from seeking refuge from the Vidoni zealots that were hot on her heels a few weeks prior. Exiting the shop, Noire gave a relieved sigh, as she scanned the docks, of which were laden with masts and sails. Some were intact and freshly tended to, while others have seen quite a storm, or even a sea brawl from the looks of it. Noire paced the dirt road that stretched from one end of the port to its rural steads, a tingling sensation upon her ears robbed her of her thoughts. A phenomenon of embroidered magic, stitched together by surgical wizardry that was only felt by those within the same profession. No doubt, there was a powerful necromancer about, or at least the presence of his creation, Noire pondered, as she was drawn by her own intrigues.

Before long, the allures of magical sensation that she had felt stood before her, upon the wooden planks that were instrumental to the access of the air docks, of which had housed a particular vessel that had seen the wrath of the storms - a fierce one at that. Roaming about in search of the emanating magic, Noire eventually stumbled upon a hooded figure, of whom was displaying their skillful hands with a flute. The notes settled well with the necromantress, as she approached the man, or what was left of him - of whom she was confident was the source of resonance. Judging by the glows beneath the veils, as well as her own understanding of the dark arts, Noire came to the conclusion that her feelings were indeed correct. The necromantress did not hesitate, as she circled the glowing undead like a vulture, discerning his estranged posture.

"Intriguing..." she muttered under her breath, as she continued to examine the hooded figure - negligent of his reactions as if he was a statue at a museum. Noire, despite her usual disassociation of interactions, was now a young child enraptured by the sight of an undead. What caught her attention the most was that it was neither puppeteered nor conjured from the aetherial realm, but rather a singular and unique individual of its own volition.

 

[Rose of Versailles]

Daffodil​

Fodi. He called her Fodi again! The redness of Daffodil's face began to fade, but turn a shade of a delicate pink - similar to that of a blossoming rose petal in the spring. Her hands clasped to her face as she bashfully batted her eyelashes to the love of her life. She loved it when he would call her Fodi. He was the only being to ever give her such a name! Well, at least a nickname that wasn't as hideous as Daffy. His flattery glittered brighter than any gold that Daffodil had ever seen. His compliments made her feel brighter than any field of sunflowers. He was such a charmer! With her heart thundering in her chest, all the fairy could do was let out little chiming giggles. She had truly chosen the most magnificent man to give her little heart to.

It wasn't until Dokkalfar mentioned something about helping Harper that she snapped out of her daze. Harper? Wasn't Harper the bird demon from hell that had risen up to terrorize fairies? She saw right through all his stuttering and timid behavior. He seemed nothing but a bag of nerves and anxiousness, but Daffodil still slept with her dagger under her pillow of Dokkalfar's hair while she slept at night. Zipping around, she saw the cursed creature approaching them and daring to speak to her beloved. Without a moment's of hesitation, she reached to her side and yanked out her dagger made from the thorns of a rose bush. The little fairy stared at her enemy as it spoke to Dokkalfar, plopping down a bag of whatever it was and hinting for someone else to help him. "Don't come any closer, you n-nasty hawk!"

Daffodil trembled like an autumn leaf falling from a tree. She had never seen a bird quite his size before, but she remembered her birds of prey defense classes from her homeland. Go for the eyes, they always said. Always go for the eyes. However, this bird had glasses guarding his eyes. She squinted as she shook in fear, plotting on how to exactly get around those glasses quick enough. Was Dokkalfar saying she was going to help him? Surely not! Her attention was snagged by something the gigantic ogre... orc... something-with-an-o was saying?

"Don't d-distract me! This isn't the t-time!" She barked out, holding her ground as best as she could while slowly floating towards the safety of Dokkalfar. It wasn't until she felt the sudden push of someone pressing their finger against her. "H-hey! What did you do that for!?"

What did that girl do? She suddenly couldn't see out of one eye and her panic rose. What was this sorcery!? Were they working together? Snatching at her eyes, she ripped the... eye patch from her eye? Did this girl change her clothes? "W-what?"

Daffodil had just woken up from a nap and was already having an extremely stressful day. Her head was already spinning from all the emotions running through her. All she wanted was a nice day with her beloved and possibly for him to make her a spoonful of sugar for her to munch on.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

"Oh, hey, big guy!" Dokkalfar patted the orc on the wide back. "I thought you might help me with..." He did not finish the sentence when, it seemed, half of the crew came by, everyone wanting to do something, poking each other... poor fairy looked to be stressed, and Weevil only looked around, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. Next thing he knew, the entire bag of gold was in his hands.

"Shh, Fodi, relax." He tried to calm the fey down. "It's just an illusion so you look more pirate-y... And don't worry about Harper - you can always hind behind my back. I promise to protect you." He nodded, emphasising his point, albeit his expression was a little confused. The elf looked down at the bag of coin shoved into his hands, and half-smiled. He didn't mean that when he offered help Albeit, the next moment, the bag was snatched from his hands, making him roll his eyes and groan. "Really. You could have at least waited before I look away! Something like this in a crowded space, and you will find your arm being cut off by the militia, Marceline!" He shook his head. His good mood vanished fast - he was not in the state to shrug off the 'fuck you' for the help. Too tired. Too drained. He just wanted to help with the purchases as a gesture of care for the ship, and did not appreciate such attitude. You do not steal from a crew member. You do not steal from a commanding officer. Didn't these kids know anything?

He looked at the people tumbling around the bag like seagulls over stale bread, and darted a tired, sarcastic look-at-these-idiots look at the fairy, placing a hand on his hip. "Forget what I said, Harper." The elf dismissively waved his hand, looking at the bird-like creature, enthusiasm disappearing.

"Nah, lass. I wanted to help with getting us discounts, but..." He threw Marceline the few coins back. That he took as an insult. Really? What good are some few coins? He needs a ton of wood - not three apples! "...you clearly know best." He stretched his back, and, instead of going into port, turned for the hold. "Don't... forget the wood, please." He threw over his shoulder. "We need the ship running." Dokkalfar probably could use his officer status to snap Marcy back to reality, but he didn't - she'd be the one to explain herself to the captain, after all, not him. At the ladder he stopped, looking at the fairy. "Do you want to go with them?" He asked. "I think I have a couple of golds to give you. Maybe get yourself some pretty dress." The elf gave a tiny little woman a warm smile. His offer was genuine.

Rose of Versailles | Noble Scion | June Verles | Alteras ​

 

[shadowz1995]

Spoiler: For the Curious

The Song Oliver is playing on the flute

The zombies lids were half closed as his lips, breath, and fingers functioned in unison like clockwork. Oliver's talent in music was something he was never able to explain nor understand. Music never interested him during his years as a thrall to the necromancer that raised him, nor did it interest him for the following centuries either. He never practiced with them or played songs or even listened to other musicians or bards play their melodies. He had no interest in the musical arts.

It was only in recent years that he got a vague inkling of an interest for anything other than learning pyromancy. It was when he knicked the very flute he was playing off of the corpse of a dead performer that he had killed and was eating. After he was done absorbing the musician's soul, for some reason, he decided to take the wooden instrument. It wasn't as if he hadn't consumed musicians before and this nameless bard certainly wasn't the first flute player he had eaten.

Yet.... a few years later.... when he finally decided to place the instrument against his cold, dead lips.... a melody he never knew just flowed through him and into the instrument. His body acted automatically as if it had been doing it for years even if his mind didn't. And with the music came a discovery, Oliver's ever active mind became silent. For once, the desire to consume, the worry of losing his will, the threat of losing control of his pyromancy, the mortals who hunted him, the haunting memories of his time as a thrall, and the ever lingering fear of being shackled to someone's will.... it all just faded away.

To this day, he didn't understand why. Even as the melancholic tune graced the night air, the reason was lost on him. Oliver gained some semblance of true peace whenever he played.

Sadly, that peace was interrupted by an unknown.

A woman with feline features approached the deck with a strange look about her. Like she was examining something. At first, the undead was under the assumption that she was a thief. Nearly every cat-human he had met was some kind of rogue-like character. But it quickly became apparent that she was not interested in the ship at all. Not in any capacity. No her gaze was completely fixated on Oliver himself.

The first thought that crossed the zombie's mind was that this woman was one of her pursuers but that quickly bore no fruit. She looked interested... not violent.

Still, she was near the ship. The captain did not relay any orders about a catwoman coming on board.

No one had.

He had no orders on this case.

He hadn't been ordered to guard the ship either though? He did that of his own volition.

This stranger was approaching the ship he was guarding.

Was she a threat?

She had to be a threat.

Threats needed to die.

He had no orders to kill either.

The music had long since stopped playing as the undead pyromancer followed the feline's encirclement of his character very closely with his eyes. His head barely moved to watch her but he still saw nearly every movement she made. Oliver wasn't good at making his own decisions. But if you gave him enough time, he would eventually come to some sort of conclusion.

The zombie gently placed the flute on railing in front of him before turning to face the woman. In a moment's notice, Oliver's hands ignited simultaneously into bright, burning flames. It was brilliance that could be seen from the taverns.

The fire quickly licked its way up his arms and started to consume his shoulders and torso before the thought occurred to him.

The captain had brought them to port to repair the ship's damage. Damaging it further would definitely not be a good thing. The flames on his person were searing hot and if he wasn't careful, the whole ship would catch fire if he merely turned up the heat a bit more.

So instead, the undead lowered the gas on the flame magic. The flames receded slowly until they only lingered from Oliver's fingertips to his elbows. It also wasn't burning with the blinding brilliance it had been moments ago. Now, it was like standing in front of someone whose arms were torches.

The risen flesh construct took a step away from the necromancer and spoke in his ghastly and gravelly voice, "Who..... are.... you? What.... do you......want..... from me....? The.... captain..... did not tell..... me..... about...... strangers.... coming to..... the ship...."

Zombies, especially lesser zombies like he was, were never capable of speech.... much less magic and especially on the scale that Oliver possessed. Which was now on display for the curious witch.

"If you..... have no busi-......-ness....with us....you must....leave..."

Pilgrim59

 

[Pilgrim59]

La Noire
Dockyard, Booty Bay

Interacted: Oliver ( shadowz1995 )
Mentioned: The Captain ( Fable )
​

The pyromaniac's defensive posture, as well as his conjuration of flames only furthered her curiosity. The initial ignition of conflagration did its job with keeping the woman at bay, albeit short-lived, as the necromantress only leaned back a little to avoid the blazing flames. Noire eyed the creature for a brief while, as he put up a demeanor of resistance towards her encroachment. Her feet were nailed firmly to the ground, as she made her stand, leaning forward and tilting her head every now and then. She took note of his combustible capabilities, and drifted away into the distance. While the undead arsonist could certainly keep most at bay, Noire was so engrossed with this particular creation, that it had backfired instead. Under the subtle and calm composure of the unfazed sorceress, the woman was quite confident of her abilities to defend herself, but she had seen no reason to, when she was simply driven by curiosity. Before long, it spoke.

Bewildered by such a development, Noire leaned forward for a closer look. It was unlikely for most undead creatures to retain the common senses that humans have. Could it be a curse? Or some sort of illusion? Noire pondered upon these thoughts, with her amber eyes scrutinizing every inch of the creature - to which she have yet to decipher his magical and physical integrities.

"Captain...?" the necromantress muttered under her breath, veering her gaze towards the nearby vessel, of which had donned no naval ensigns or colors. These minuscule details, as well as it's unique design that stood out from the conformity of the usual federal fleets, hinted Noire's revelation of the ship's purpose of commission.

An undead pyromancer serving as a pirate crew? And a self-aware one at that. Noire stood puzzled, as this was one of the few bizarre cases that she had dragged herself into. But that was the least of her worries. The necromantress has been left to her own device for some time now that the thrills of trying to unravel the mysterious creature's nature was almost tempting to give into. Almost. Evident from his self-awareness, as well as his own capabilities to conjure fire magic without much hassle would end up bad should she try to dissect him here and now. However, this would probably be the only opportunity for the witch to study this distinctive pyromancer. Judging from the tattered sails, and the condition of the upper deck's scars of battle, it was without doubt, that the Captain of this particular vessel is a dogged sailor. It would not be easy to simply abduct this undead without consequences, let alone the subject's attempts at resistance. After all, his display of fire magic is more than what meets the eye. Noire let out a heavy sigh, as she revise her thoughts.

While she could walk away, Noire had grown weary of running and hiding. As she eyed the dormant vessel, it struck her. Rumors of ancient relics that are scattered throughout the world of Tune could potentially aid her cause of uncovering the mysteries of her shrouded pasts. How would she go about it? Only one path stood out before the necromantress, two stones for a bird, or two birds for a stone, whichever was the case. It is not just as simple as pronouncing one's claim to be admitted, is it? It did not matter. Noire had to give it a shot. Who knows? She might pass for a marine biologist, despite her somewhat evil grins, the woman thought. As long as she is a part of the crew, the necromantress would have all the time in the world to study and perhaps keep this peculiar pyromancer all to herself for her own research.

"MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!" Noire's internal joy turned outward, as she accidentally cracked a maniacal laugh in front of the zombie out of the blue, much to the latter's confused, if not wary concerns.

"Ahem! Lead me to your captain, my future serv- I mean... Pyromancer! I am here to offer my services to your cause!" the witch proudly proclaimed, tucking her arms against her chest with pride. Deep down, Noire had hoped that she would not be put to work anytime soon.

 

[Tarmagon]

Tyr finished his inspection of the upper rigging, adding several items to his mental inventory of repairs. Despite the Captain's words, Tyr had released the topmen for shore leave, knowing full well that there wouldn't be a damned thing for them to do until the new lines came aboard. Their cable tier was remarkably sparse after the Lady's latest cruise, and he didn't want to even consider the state of their lumber stocks. So, until the Quartermaster provided the raw materials, there was damned-all for the topmen to do, not to mention the Carpenter and his assistants, so Tyr hadn't protested when that worthy had left to procure appropriate materials for the necessary repairs.

Strains of melody drifted upwards on the breeze, and Tyr glanced down so see their resident Undead pyro playing the flute he had acquired some time back. Tyr didn't know where Oliver's talent for music had come from, someone he ate perhaps?, but despite the haunting tunes he preferred, his playing was excellent. Tyr slipped into the crow's nest, resting his back against the mast for just a moment, letting the beauty of the sky and the drifting music wash away the stress of the day. Soon enough... the melody floating on the breeze vanished, and Tyr frowned. What? A sudden flare of light from below gained Tyr's immediate attention, and he looked over the side of the crow's nest to see Oliver wreathed in fire, confronting a slight figure. Before Tyr could shout an obscenity at the Undead, Oliver dampened the flames, though Tyr could still see tiny flames dancing on his fingertips.

"Who..... are.... you? What.... do you......want..... from me....? The.... captain..... did not tell..... me..... about...... strangers.... coming to..... the ship...." Oliver asked in his gravelly voice, clearly addressing the figure that was sizing him up like a choice cut at the meat market. "If you..... have no busi-......-ness....with us....you must....leave..."

As Oliver spoke, Tyr slipped out of the crow's nest and began to silently descend the rigging. When he arrived at the lowest yardarm, he moved along it until he was directly above Oliver and the mysterious intruder. From this vantage point, it, no she... the figure was definitely female, seemed to have a feline cast to her features.

"MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!" the woman's laugh was something Tyr would expect from Grimgal, usually after he had done something particularly abhorrent. Her next words merely confirmed Tyr's opinion. "Ahem! Lead me to your captain, my future serv- I mean... Pyromancer! I am here to offer my services to your cause!"

Tyr dropped lightly to the deck behind the woman, a knife appearing in his hand as he dropped. His free arm went about the woman, pinning her arms as the knife settled against her neck.

"We don' be takin kindly to dem dat shows up wi'ou an invite," he purred into the strange woman's ear. "An I be fond o Oliver er, so's why'nt joo be tellin' me whys joo be lookin at me mate like he be a piece o meat fors joo to be samplin'?"

Pilgrim59 shadowz1995

 

[ItsYaBoyUhhhh]

The sound of metal piercing wood jolted Ronin out of his deep sleep. The first thing he saw was a reflection of his face in a blade that was several inches away from his face. He stared deeply at himself in the blade with a blank expression, still slightly drunk and too disoriented to formulate a coherent thought. Per usual, Ronin had fallen asleep at his regular table in the tavern after drinking until he was unable to walk. He groaned loudly as the blade was lifted from the table and began rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger. "Listen, give me five more minutes and I promise I'll be right with you." he mumbled in annoyance. Lifting his hand away from his head he glanced upward, and a sly smirk came across his face. He slowly raised his head from the table, now leaned back in his chair with a foot on the table. "You're a sight for sore eyes, eh?"

"I want my cut yeh bastard!" said the large figure standing in front of him. A roughly six-foot-two inch man dressed in your standard pirate outfit, except covered in mud, was hunched over the table looking at Ronin with anger and disgust. "We had a deal and yeh done ran off 'fore I got what is mine! Now give it to meh!" he commanded, slamming a fist on the table to emphasize his anger.

"Riiiight… Because you did so much work." Ronin rolled his eyes, recounting how he had ambushed the convoy, subdued easily ten or more guards, and also successfully evaded the reinforcements that chased him for miles. He lowers his foot off the table and straightens his posture. "If it was up to me, I would have left you behind in that ditch you tripped in. Oh no wait, I did!" He burst out laughing, smacking the table with an open palm a few times before regaining his composure. This obviously did not please the infuriated pirate, who cocked his arm back and started to swing at Ronin's face. Before he could complete the swing, Ronin extended one of his legs out and upward, striking the underside of the table. As his foot connects with the wood, a flash of faint blue energy is released so quickly if you blinked you missed it. The concussive forced coming from his foot generated enough power to cause the table to flip and fly forward, striking the pirate and sending him along with the table several feet away.

Ronin takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, rolling his shoulders as he stands from his seat. He sauntered over to the bar as the pirate pushed the table off himself and attempted to stand. Ronin reaches across the bar and grasps an empty ale mug from the hands of the bartender who had been wiping it down before the altercation started. The pirate lets out a rage filled yell and started to charge towards Ronin, but only made it a step before being struck square in the face with the mug Ronin took from the bar. The mug shattered as it connected, sending shards of glass into the pirates face. He collapsed to the ground in agony while reciting about every curse word in the known world and covering his face. "Heh, there's your cut." Ronin chuckled beneath his breath before turning and walking to the door, grabbing a mug full of ale off the bar top on his way.



Fable & Birdsie witness this

 

[Kiroshiven]

"Of course. I will let the Madame know that you plan to compensate her for damages to the room, the stress of the woman in question and for wasting both the Madame's and my time." Vayinia smiled as she left the ship of a pirate that seemed to have forgotten one of the rules when dealing with the Madame's girls. You don't threaten or stress the women. Stress was a natural enemy of beauty and when your job is entertaining pirates that more often than not haven't seen a woman in months, beauty IS the commodity. "Imbecile." Vayina pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear as a carrier pigeon landed upon her shoulder. She quickly wrote out a message and sent the bird off with it to make sur the Madame was made aware. "Now then...." Vayinia's eyes turned to see a ship that had landed once more while she was dealing with the troublemaker that was incapacitated in his quarters.

"The Whimsical Lady. Looks like she's taken quite the beating. They may need some assistance, but then again, coin needs to flow through the....proper, channels." Vayinia walked along the docks thinking before bumping into someone. As she looked she noticed a harpy with fairly dark feathers. "I'm sorry sir." She put on a smile as she looked back towards the people behind them. "Are you perhaps a member of The Whimsical Lady? I don't keep track of the crew, though your ship coming in does normally mean some drama will be happening within the bay." Vayinia straightened her appearance and put on her consort smile. "My name is Vayinia. I am one of the hostesses of the Madame's brothel and one of the people who have lived in the bay for a......decent amount of time. If you happen to need anything let me know." Vayinia's eyes went back to the ship before returning to rest on the male.

"You may be a bit hard pressed to find wood and such right now as food and water are more plentiful." She looked at the crew members with a small bit of envy as they all gathered around. Over the last decade, Vayinia's desire to leave Booty Bay had grown. She'd spoken to the Madame once or twice about eventually leaving, and surprisingly hadn't had too much resistance. The Madame hadn't expected Vayinia to remain youthful or useful for fifty years. She'd gotten her money's worth, now all it took was finding a crew willing to take her on board.

Noble Scion

 

[Pilgrim59]

La Noire
Dockyard, Booty Bay

Interacted: Tyr ( Tarmagon )
Mentioned: Oliver ( shadowz1995 )
​

The ship's form quickly put Noire on alert. It was not just any common privateering vessel, but the Whimsical Lady, a name that has been watered down ever since her arrival on Booty Bay. Her reputation has caught quite a storm every time the witch frequented the ports. A dangerous group, for most, but perhaps a competent one, among the brother-boasters and lowlife hoodlums that she idealized as the common norms of pirates. Before she could recollect her thought, the necromancer felt a disturbance in the calm yet wicked sea breeze. It reeked of uninvited company. Tucking her hand beneath her weathered coat, the witch's index and middle finger curled up to form a light snap.

FWP!

An abruptly heavy sensation made its impact upon her shoulders, followed by a cold ring of solemn steel that has found its end by her throat. The assailant has introduced their arrival, with his hands pinning her down onto the dry wood, and his knife at her neck. Despite the unfortunate predicament that the necromancer had found herself in, the feline remained indisposed to resist, as it was her way of coping with situations like this. Although, Noire must admit, she had been careless with her surroundings, having fixed her attention towards the undead. A troll, by the appearance of his form and rough hands. His hand ran throughout her attires for weapons, but to no avail. Obviously, harboring a weapon would quickly mark her as an armed personnel that trod upon private grounds. Besides, it was better for her to conceal her knowledge of the arcane until push-comes-to-shove. While the troll had meant well for his expatriate companion, with his weapon pointed towards her, the woman was more than inclined to make her move, despite being caught between a rock and a hard place - such was her resolve and perhaps a certain sense of hubris.

Noire composed herself, with her eyes diverting towards the undead, as the troll spoke. Without breaking a sweat or even inquiring the latter, she had already acquired his name. From what she could tell, they were sail mates, as dictated by his defensive words and acts towards the necromancer. Ever since she picked up her personal studies, Noire's cunning attention to details, as well as her abilities as a necromancer, have done its course in solidifying her confidence, albeit in insolvent hindsight. Noire's inaudible finger snap from before had already taken effect. Dark energies surged throughout her body, as the feline made ready to displace herself at the moment's notice. Even so, she chose to negotiate with words, dwelling on the accounts of whatever else she could pry from the troll. Like most pirates and frequenter of inns, the convicted necromancer had developed a certain adventurous, albeit dangerous aptitude for gambling. And gambled she did.

"Now now. It is only natural for a practitioner of the arcane to simply be drawn to your friend here. Besides..." Noire replied to the troll's inquiries. What is given, must be returned, she thought, diverting her gaze towards Oliver. After all, it was normal for most pirates to be wary of strangers, let alone a necromancer.

"... a certain witch has her queries and concerns to make a living. I'm sure you could always use a hand..." she continued, shrugging and grinning with a nonchalant manner.

Even with their frank ways of addressing their concerns towards non-crew personnel, Noire has yet to discern the reasoning behind the troll's eyes of contempt. Her fingers twitched every now and then. While it had presented itself to be a difficult task to conjure up a spell while being pressed down on the ground, the witch was quite thrilled to see how it would play out. After all, she finds the pressure of looming conflict to be a cause of a worthy struggle. If anything, Noire shared a common sentiment among those that braved the seas, neither the ocean's lullaby nor the vibrant colors of distant lands - but promises of rewards and adventure. And her's was a simple one.

"Say, you and your friends would have ample opportunities to see my end. I'm sure the Captain of the illustrious Whimsical Lady would lend an ear. What say you, Troll?" the woman stated, in an attempt to persuade the troll. Even if he denied her offers, it would not be said and done without a fight, Noire thought. The necromancer's fingers unfurled, as her palms became lax, as if going all in with her gamble. But the woman knew better.

 

[Fable]

( June Verles Birdsie Noble Scion dazzling Epiphany Vampunk Tarmagon shadowz1995 Alteras kevintheradioguy Forgy Rose of Versailles Pilgrim59 Kiroshiven ItsYaBoyUhhhh )
( Please remember it is only one post per round per player Pilgrim59 :\)

Location: The Whimsical Lady

Vyxyl casually yawned as she looked over the cards she had in her hand. It wasn't the best hand, but it wasn't bad either. She tapped her fingers a bit on her chin, trying to make herself appear nervous or worried. She went through all the motions, setting down a two cards to gain two new ones from the dealer, which only bettered her hand. After they'd all settled on their hands they played their cards, though Vyxyl opted to show her hand last.

She won and earned a few glares from the men at the table which she simply offered them a shrug. "If you want to blame anyone, blame the dealer." The eyes of the men turned to leer at the current dealer and she smirked. She'd planted the smallest seed of doubt in their friend. Honestly, why anyone would become suspicious when someone said something that sounded like the dealer was helping them cheat was amusing.

Their game continued, sometimes Vyxyl purposefully let herself lose to make the men think they had an upphand, but she was going to clean them out here soon enough. She'd manipulated them into throwing all their coin in on top of a few favors, which she also offered as well. This was a hand she couldn't afford to lose and if she had been observing correctly and with a bit of luck she'd win. They all stared each other down silently waiting for the first person to show their hand. Two of them folded grumpily and now were simply observers. Finally one of them confidently slammed their cards on the table and laughed, "Beat that!"

The others groaned and tossed their losing cards on the table, but Vyxyl just calmly showed her hand and then grinned as the cocky man's jaw dropped. "Challenge accepted. Now then..."

She scooped up her winnings, though the bag she had struggled to hold all the contents. The man was about to call her a cheat when she raised a hand. "Oh and before you go around accusing me, I knew you had a few cards up your sleeve at the start, I made you use them early on so the last round would actually be fair. Next time you might want to use unmarked cards as well; just a tip! Now then, about those favors..."

Vyxyl was interrupted as a commotion broke out between two men, one clearly no match for the other as she turned just in time to see a tankard slam into the other's face along with the winner using a terrible pun. She bounced the heavy-laden bag she had as she looked the man over. Port calls always resulted in some crew wandering off and it never hurt to add a few more useful people to the payroll.

She stepped over the swearing and groaning man casually to follow after the man. "Oi, wait a tick," she called out to him to catch him before he vanished somewhere. "I'm Captain Vyxyl of The Whimsical Lady, a few slots have opened for new crew. I could use a more useful members to my payroll. If you're interested you can find myself or my First Mate on my ship."

With that Vyxyl left without another word and headed back to her damaged ship. She'd managed to get enough favors to make her sea and sky worthy in the next few days. With that settled she needed to check on the supply issue and so help her if Harper failed in his task she was going to tell Gru to pluck him and serve her like a fine turkey dinner.

What greeted her when she returned was an interesting sight; strangers.

"Say, you and your friends would have ample opportunities to see my end. I'm sure the Captain of the illustrious Whimsical Lady would lend an ear. What say you, Troll?"

"Would I now?" Vyxyl said as she approached the group of Tyr, Oliver, one of the Madam's girls, and the strange catwoman. "You must have done something to upset my lovely First Mate for him to behave as such. I see there has been some excitement while I've been slaving away making deals with the locals. Now then..."

She looked over the strange woman from head to toe, tilting her head and raising a hand to her chin. "Mister Tyr, let the woman speak if you would please. You can remove your blade from her and should she displease me, well, Oliver be a dear and crisp her upon my command. I am Captain Vyxyl of the The Whimsical Lady, whatever you wish to say please make it quick. I have liberty to grant to a weary and wary crew and they might just kill you themselves from being so on edge."

"Oh and I do apologize to the Madam should things turn sour here," she said to the Dryad consort. It was better to avoid getting on the Madam's side, but with one of her own here there would be a witness of events should things go wrong, she might even intervene to prevent damage to the docks.

( June Verles Alteras Noble Scion kevintheradioguy ? Go get the supplies already lol XD)