Pirates of the Sky (closed)

[Vibora]

Signup: http://www.rpnation.com/index.php?threads/small-group-steampunk-pirates-three-spots-left.9053/


Humans have not lived on the earth’s surface for nearly a century. Despite having lived sub – celestial for thousands of years, radio energy levels on Earth were beginning to peak in the early 2500s. Scientists found a solution: to create flowing masses of land in the Earth’s atmosphere and enhance humans to be able to handle living miles above the Earth’s surface. After utilizing and mastering mass levitation by use of repulsed magnetic forces, civilization moved to the clouds, and the most common method of transportation between the floating islands was airships. By the turn of the century, with resources limited, soon an outbreak of pirate ships began. And one day, a group of six met in a bar. Each one desperate and in need of money for whatever reason, decided that they would have to band together. They began a service where they were hired by pirate crews to take down other crews, or even governments. Unbiased to any crew, all they had a fast and efficient way to make money. Unfortunately for the six, they would have to get to know each other along the way.


The islands:

Spoiler

Main map

Cat O nine Island
Where the main population lives. It has a massive marketplace and has a massive economy for trading, shipping, exporting and importing. It is crowded and always bustling and busy.

BlackHawk Island


The smelting town. It has a condensed population around its caves, which have self-replenishing but extremely difficult to find ores. The river that runs through has been changed to have several canals and is used to move ores down to the extraction center, then to the blacksmiths, and finally, to the ports. The blacksmiths make weapons, cannons, cannonballs, ship pieces, tools and other goods. The island mainly ships its goods to Monkey Jacket Island.

Monkey Jacket Island


This island has thick bamboo forests that are cut down, and quickly grow back, to make wood, and its main industry, ships. Several skilled craftsmen make airships, and are reliant on Blackhawk Island for the ore to make ships. It also has a side business of making jewelry and clothes from the textiles imported from Marque island. A small, skilled population.

Marque Island


This island is consistent of ranching and cotton growing. The two main markets are textiles, from cotton and wool, and the food market, with dairy, eggs, poultry, meat and fish.

Savvy Island


This island mainly grows fruit and vegetables with high quality, fertile soil. This is the most rural and quiet island by far.

The currency: Based on space quids http://counternotions.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/quid.png?w=374&h=250





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http://counternotions.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/quid.png?w=374&h=250http://counternotions.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/quid.png?w=374&h=250

http://counternotions.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/quid.png?w=374&h=250
The red, known as a Ruby is worth the equivilant of 10,000 Amercan dollars or 7542.62 Euro


The yellow, known as an amber is worth about 1000 American dollars or 754.26 euro


The purple, known as a garny is worth about 100 american dollars or 75.42 euro


the green, known as Peri's are worth about 10 dollars, or 7.54 euro


the blue, known as Agates, are worth about a dollar, or .75 euro


Posting order: Me, EC, Derivik, Maeve, St

 

[Vibora]

The bar was dimly lit, several smells merging to form a single, bizarre and sweet scent. Cigarettes, drugs, perfume, alcohol, and musk. It was the type of smell that would linger with you, and that you couldn’t be around for long before feeling sick. Yet somehow, it added atmosphere to the ever busy bar. The grumbles of the men, sounds of coins and poker chips, gears moving, glasses clinking combined with the dim, coloured made a place that was overwhelming but had a strange draw to it. The worn walls and scratched floors and tables added a certain rustic charm as well.


Despite all this, Dimitri entered the bar with a large amount of hesitation. He had never smelt many of the smells or heard any of the sounds alone, and together it resulted in him wanting to curl up in the nearest corner. Still, he could recognize the smell of strong liquor, as he had smelt it on the breath of Jeremiah, and this comforted him somewhat. He had come to the bar as some form of comfort. Apparently Jeremiah went there every now and then, so Dimitri decided to try as well. He made his way to the bar table, as he had heard of people doing so many times before. Dimitri’s head was killing him as he sat down in the faded red velvet of the barstool, leaning to the right to avoid a tear with a rather dull screw sticking out. After a bit, the large, ape-like bartender shuffled towards him.


“What do you want?”


Dimitri turned towards the man in a stiff movement, eyes watching the strange, bubbling bottles rather than the bartender's face. The bartender grunted loudly a few times, and Dimitri didn't respond, simply thinking the man had an itchy throat. It was only once the bartender repeated his question that Dimitri focused and thought about answering. He wouldn’t be able to read the board, and unwilling to say ‘nothing’ in the fear of being kicked out, he mumbled,


“That”, pointing to a dazed, possibly sleeping man with a half filled bottle of cheap champagne.


The bartender, with a bit of discomfort at Dimitri’s robotic movements and voice, quickly poured a glass, shooting a glance at the champagne man, a regular. As the bartender delivered the drink and picked up a few agates, he whispered to the regular,


“What is he on?”


Dimitri didn't catch this, for as soon as he was done replying, he was far too intrigued by the strange pattern of the bar table's polished wood.

 

[Ericandmylastname]

Alone, sitting on a table, Luther was investigating a small glass which had two ice cubes surrounded my a brown, rust-like liquid. He picked it up and swished it around, his eyes narrowed.


"Alcohol. Such an interesting thing."


"Apart for medical purposes of disposing bacteria in a swish, it can also have qualities of producing stupidity amongst the wisest, lust, and sin."


"Amazing." He finished, slowly placing his tongue on the surface of the drink. His eyes widened and he spat out. He took the sleeve of his coat and rubbed it against his tongue, making awkward sounds as he did.


"Of course, it could use a ginormous amount of sugar, or rather, anything. Um," He raised his hand, calling an attractive waitress.


"Do you have chips with this?" She looked confused. "Uh, peanuts rather." She then nodded.


"Could you hand me that along with another one? I could finish this by the time you come back." He said, showing a classy grin. She gave a more confused look than last time, considering he barely took a sip, but she nodded and walked off.


Upon leaving his sight, Luther threw all the contents of the glass behind him, unaware of what he could have or couldn't have done.


"Too late!" He cupped around his hands in the waitress's direction.

 

[Jack Dennings]

I open the doors to the local bar, that I had visited a few times before. The aromas of perfume, alcohol, and cigarettes makes me frown, as always. How pathetic of them, to need such things. I'm a bit tired, having stayed up a bit too late practicing with my sword the night before, but I'm still as alert as always. As always, I have more enemies then allies. I quietly sit down next to a lean man with olive colored skin. He appears to be looking at the wooden counter, but I don't really care. I turn my attention to the bartender, a dirty man, slightly overweight. I've never really liked him.


"Any jobs come in?" I ask hopefully.


"Sorry, no jobs for the Crimson Eye tonight," he replies, "Want a drink."


I sigh, "Please, stop calling me that. Just call me Derivik, I don't want any trouble here, not now." I glance around, trying to see if anyone recognized the name. The Crimson Eye, referring to my eyes. I've always liked their shade of crimson. How rare it is, and how well it fits me. "I guess I'll have the usual."


"Aye, I'll get you a glass of water... I don't understand how a man like you can't handle a drink."


I ignore the comment, as drinking numbs you. It's harder to think, to act. I look at the man to my right again. His dark auburn hair sticks out to me. He's a bit taller then me, and has a interesting face. I notice a bump on his nose, but I can't see his eyes. I turn my attention back to my surroundings. Damn it, I need some work. I'm low on cash, down to a bit over a amber. It'll keep me going for a while, but not long enough. I let out a sigh, and close my eyes. I'm not even near my goal.

 

[Maeve Harris]

Oswin had been going four hours non-stop, and she was in full right to believe the smells were going to her head. The other bartenders and waitresses were obviously gruff and miserable, tolerating the weirdos (was that guy staring at the table?) and raunchy gorillas of men that sat themselves down in the bar. Oswin, however, was used to it. After living in an environment such as this for most of her life had seemed to numb her senses, although the way the owner cleaned this place made Oswin a smidge uncomfortable. Anything out of place made her uncomfortable, for that matter.


Oswin had just finished topping off beers for a couple of older men who were giggling over her small body in such a drunken way that she hesitated on giving them any more. Then again, men were always keen to degrading her, or any sort of woman for that matter. Oswin saw no point in resisting their teases; she knew that she could silence them if she wanted to.


As she escaped the company of the older men, she heard the shout of one if the fellow waitresses from behind the bar.


"Ozzy! Help me get this order taken care of!"


The woman was carrying a giant platter that consisted of several plates of greasy hot wings and hamburgers, and struggling a great amount with balancing it. Oswin made her way to the bar and relieved her of the platter, balancing it with experience. "How are the tips tonight?" Oswin asked. The waitress sighed, "no better than last night or the night before. You're just lucky you get a free room from the owner. I'm still living with my older brother, and it's practically torture."


Oswin bit her lower lip. "You take my share of the tips tonight. My treat, love." She then walked away with the platter before the waitress had time to thank her.


That was a stupid move, Oswin, she thought as she went around the bar and served the food that she had such an obvious distaste for, You're never going to get the things you need if you keep giving away your money like that. Then again, it's not like I get paid well in the first place. Ugh, I need a job. A BETTER job. Something more useful and monetarily-gratifying than serving these ruddy losers.

 

[St. Nicholas Cage]

Bella sat off to the right of the bar at a large round table, she was surrounded by several much larger men making her seem rather frail. All of them held cards in their hands, several brown bags sat in the center of the table, each filled with money. Bella gave a wide grin as she looked at her cards, she had the game won either way it went and she didn't mind letting it show.


"Alrighty boys, looks like little ole me is walking out of here pockets full."


She said as she tossed her cards down on the table landing near the pile of bags. Most of the men groaned loudly having just lost their wages to her, all except one. He was a large bear of a man standing six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and a wide chest, his arms larger than her head. He had a scraggly black beard, beady eyes, and a balding head that was covered in black dust. He was dressed in the dull blue uniform of a local steel worker which was also mostly black, though it barely seemed to fit his frame.


"Ye cheated me girl! Ye and yer trickery fooled the lot of us!"


Bella raised a thin eyebrow at the man eying him down as he stood from his seat to tower over her.


"Ye won't be havin' my earnin!"


The large man bellowed as he reached forward grabbing for one of the bags in the center of the table. Bella was there to meet him as he tried, bringing forward her right fist burying it into his meaty throat. The man froze wheezing softly, Bella's fist resting beneath his chin the sweat on his face dripping onto her arm. She pulled back her fist quickly giving it a shake before she balled up her fist again. The large man's eyes widened as her fist snapped forward again connecting with his nose sending him tumbling back to the ground still gasping for air as blood poured from his nose which was bent out of proportion.


"That'll teach you to try to steal from a lady."


She said as she spit on the large man, taking up a half empty bottle from the table draining it's contents in several gulps. A great sigh escaped her lips as she set the bottle back on the table as she collected her winnings, taking her seat once again the large man still wheezing on the ground his large hands covering his face.

 

[Vibora]

I'll be adding the islands pretty soon. I have the plans, mainly))


Dimitri stared down at the table for quite a bit, his fingers tracing the pattern. He wondered how old it was, just how old. The mahogany was rough, grainy and it appeared as if the tree had been chopped down, sliced down the middle and put in the store. Perhaps years of spilled alcohol being wiped down and sliding glasses and bottles going across the surface had smoothed it down to the current state, a rough, darkened and jagged piece of wood. The rings themselves were so intricate and covered in burn markings from forest fires, that Dimitri knew no matter how many times he counted the rings, he would get a different answer each time.


After a minute or two, Dimitri noticed glowing warmth beside him, the kind only achieved by exchanging body heat. He jolted back from the bar table, swiveling in the chair to look over at the man next to him, and immediately was intrigued.


Next to him was a man, only slightly shorter than himself, yet the air that this man had to him reminded Dimitri of the king in the parade his father has read in the newspaper to him. This regal man was pale, with such dark, contrasting hair that it was heard not to catch your eyes. Even more were the ruby colored eyes of the man.


Dimitri sat, staring intensely and never changing, only blinking once his eyes began to burn from drying out. He calculated the slow, comfortable presence of the man, who still seemed ready to jump to his feet at any time. Many emotions clouded the man’s expression, and Dimitri, without one, sat, watching and wondering, as if the man’s face were some kind of fascinating piece of machinery.


The bartender crossed his arms, thoroughly confused. Either the newcomer was about to kill his regular or was three sheets to the wind.. More likely the first, knowing the Crimson eye.


“Oi.” The bartender flicked his head at Derivik, his thick pony tail lashing, “I see ye have an unwanted guest. I can get rid of em if ye think he’ll cleave ye to the brisket.”

 

[Ericandmylastname]

"Yea, lemme tell ye, that booty was finer of ALL the land." a voice spoke behind Luther.


"So much, people-DIIIE-DUH." A loud thud made Luther turn around, saying, "Sir, you do not need to emphasize to the last, it is completely unnecessary for you to- oh dear."


"Okay, who in the hell, did this." The man huffed.


"That sir, would be me."


"And why's that?"


"You see, I was attempting to seduce this attractive waitress by showing my bravado over alcohol, known for being a very masculine drink, which, to be honest is terrible. So I spilt it behind me in hopes that someone like you of.... High perception would be able to notice this."


"On and we need clean up here." He finished.


"Are you mocking me?"


"Me? Mocking you? Now that is just absurd. Why, would I dare to mock you? We barely even shaked hands or even said hi, and now you go off on a limb to presume, that I am mocking you. Ridiculous.


NOW, I am mocking you."


"WHY YOU-"


"On mother."

 

[Jack Dennings]

My thoughts are disrupted by both the bartender, and the yells of some idiots across the room. I glance at the bartender, "Don't worry about it." I'm not quite sure what he meant, but as I look around, I see the man next to me is looking at me quite intently. I figure he isn't looking for a fight, so I look elsewhere, at the trouble brewing. Some blond idiot is picking a fight with a few bruisers. Damn... Those guys have a bad rep. I hope he gets out of there in one piece. Some people lack any common sense...


I observe my surroundings once more, and take a long sip of my water. It's cold, and refreshing, and reminds me of how much I hate alcohol. Why would anyone want something that makes it so you can't think? What pathetic people... Water is cheaper, and it satisfies you more. As I continue to survey the room, I glance at another fight going on. Some girl fighting a thug. Waiters rushing around. Really, what type of people risk getting into those fights... You never know who will pull a knife on you, or even a gun. "Sure is crazy today." I say to no one in particular. Maybe I should play some cards, win some arm wrestling... It would help me save up money for the ship, but again... You never know who refuses to lose. I'd rather not get my hands bloody tonight. Again, I zone out, just a little, as I continue to think.

 

[Maeve Harris]

Oswin finished serving the platter she had been holding, returned it to the back, and came out with a fresh platter of assorted drinks. She began asking around each table, offering drinks to anyone who looked partially sane and in their own right to handle a drink.


Frankly, she hadn't taken notice to the havoc that reeked in the bar. It seemed like a normal night to her : brawling idiots, overly-confident women, and a few freak-shows that popped in and out like weeds. It was the voice that Oswin heard behind her as she topped off a beer that made her stop and take in the multiple situations that were going on at once.


She looked over her shoulder and took in the appearance of the man. He looked around her age (a year or two older, maybe?) with rather untidy hair and pale skin. Oswin also noticed the scar on his cheek, but decided to pretend like it wasn't there. She herself knew the mention of scars came with the remembrance of bad memories. The scar on her back tingled, almost in agreement.


"I suppose it's a bit out-of-sorts tonight," Oswin said, hoping it didn't appear to the man like she had been staring, "but there've been worse, I'm afraid." She looked down at his drink, "Would you like more water? Or alchahol? No offense, but you don't seem like much of a drinker."

 

[St. Nicholas Cage]

The men in huddled towards the pack scattered soon after, staying as far away from Bella as possible. The man on the floor had stopped gasping for breath and had begun to shakily pick himself up. The look in his eyes said all it needed to through the blood smeared across his face. Eventually he came to stand on wobbly legs, he seemed lost for several seconds as he tried to reorient himself. Slowly he turned and staggered towards the exit looking pathetic, almost like a beaten dog.


The traces of a smile crossed Bella's lips as she turned her vision towards the leather bags that now lay before her. She had cleaned house tonight and she would definitely treat herself later. I know it's been good around here lately, but it'll dry up sooner or later. I need to find a steady income. She thought to herself as quick hands emptied all of the bags into one which she stuffed into one of her belt pouches.


She turned her vision back towards the bar, through the haze of smoke she could see a man causing trouble with another man, the details were lost to her though. Turning her attention towards the bar she stood moving forward slowly having to dodge scampering barmaids and staggering drunk. She came to rest beside two men stopping before the old bar stool leaning forward placing her elbows on the counter resting her chin on her raised hands, nodding towards the bartender. She had been a regular as of late and she liked her drink stout and the house brew did not disappoint.


He returned uncorking a dark brown bottle setting it before her before going back with his business. She smiled pulling the bottle as she turned her attention towards the two men across from her both of them seeming lost in thought.

 

[Jack Dennings]

I notice someone sit to my left, but ignore them for now, "Oh, thank you, I would enjoy another glass of water." Something about the girl seems... Almost out of place. Like she didn't belong here, working in a bar. I figure it doesn't really matter, and hand the glass to the girl. She's a lot shorter then me, with a petite figure. Then I turn my attention to the person on my left. Another girl, the one who was in that fight, I believe. Her dark red hair sticks out to me, but I don't say anything about it. Instead, I turn back to the man on my right.


"What brings you here?" I ask him, hoping to spark a conversation with the strange man. Something about him puts me on edge. A interesting crowd gathered here tonight. I tap my fingers on the wood, and it makes a satisfying plinky noise. Very interesting indeed.

 

[Maeve Harris]

Oswin silently filled up the man's glass again and strolled away, though she didn't move out of listening range. She walked around a few of the tables, making small talk with the ones who didn't seem too drunk or out-of-sorts, while also keeping a keen ear into the two men beginning a conversation. Something about them (moreover, the blacked-headed boy) seemed either strange or adventurous. Either way, she was interested in why they had to say. She wasn't quite sure why.

 

[Vibora]

Dimitri's head tilted to the side slightly, but his bright, sea green eyes remained on the man, slowly moving. Dimitri was slowly moving his lips, with a lowered brow and slightly squinted eyes. He didn’t appear angered, but was blatantly deep in thought. As soon as he was spoken to, Dimitri retorted, “My feet.” He paused and thought for a moment then nodded and added. “Curiosity”.


By this point, Rosco was nudging his broad nose out from Dimitri’s sack and pressing it against Dimitri. Dimitri hadn’t made any point to hide the three foot python, but Rosco had been out of sight due to his love of Dimitri’s linen satchel. Dimitri had no clue why Rosco loved the tattered old bag, probably because of all the unusual scents it had picked up over the years, but when he wasn’t wrapped around Dimitri or flying close behind, Rosco was in the satchel.


Dimitri shot a small glance at Rosco, not at all concerned by the presence of his snake, or aware of the fear from others that snakes seemed to bring.


The bartender pounded a fist on the table.


“Oi! No pets in here!”


“Oh.” Dimitri glanced down at Rosco, pushing him back into the bag. “Now he’s in the bag.”


The bartender’s face grew red, but suddenly something clicked in his feeble little mind.


“Wait… aren’t ye Jeremiah’s kid? He talks about ye a lot when he comes in here. Ye don’t seem as sharp as he puts ye.”


As soon as his mentor was mentioned, Dimitri perked up, now attentive. He gave a small nod.


“Are ye as good of a mapmaker as he says ye are?”


Dimitri gave him a strange look. How on earth was he supposed to know how good Jeremiah had said he was. Still, Dimitri had to figure out where Dimitri was. That was the real reason he had come to the bar. Jeremiah was the only thing that had really mattered for the past several years, and for him to up and go like that wasn’t fair.


“Jeremiah… Where?”


“Hell if I know.”


Dimitri had a hint of emotion, but it meant a lot for his usually statue like face. It was a very slight look of disappointment. While the bartender continued on, Dimitri blanked out, not listening, and deep in thought and a state of shock. How could Jeremiah just leave him?

 

[Jack Dennings]

I'm surprised by the mans answer, more so by his "Pet". Why a man would want a pet like that is beyond me, but to each his own, I guess. More interesting was his story. Jeremiah... I feel like I've heard that name before... But I can't remember where. More importantly to me though, was that the man was a mapmaker. Interesting. I could use one... You know, I could really use a crew. I wonder is the man's employed. I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask.


I turn to the man, "Hello there Sir, my names Derivik Soul, and I have a business proposition for you. Would you be kind enough to listen?" I ask politely.

 

[Ericandmylastname]

"Thank you for taking care of such impolite man. He must have received such a bad day, that he solely is taking out his anger purely on me. Such a poor soul. Bless his heart but he may require some help." Luther said in a low tone as he patted himself down, ridding of the wrinkles and messes he may have obtained from self-defense called, 'The flailing around' technique.

[QUOTE="Derivik Soul] "Hello there Sir, my names Derivik Soul, and I have a business proposition for you. Would you be kind enough to listen?"

[/QUOTE]
"Oh right, that's one of those reasons why I am here." He raised his hand, pressed it against his head and closed his eyes to think for a moment.


"Oh right. Meeting. Pirate. Yup." He then walked around, searching for them. But then he rememered the source of the sound, the counter.


"Is this where we can sign up to be a pirate? Heard we can be with the right skills we're in, right?"

 

[Vibora]

Dimitri was deep into thought by the time Derivik even turned around to speak. In the short timespan between the bartender talking to him, and Derivik talking to him, Dimitri had gone into a state of such deep, quick paced thought about his current situation, that the sights around him faded out and the distant sounds grew more distant and muffled.


The loud, booming and assertive voice of Derivik made Dimitri jump several feet into the air. He turned around, facing Derivik startled and slightly annoyed. Of course, none of this showed on his blank face. Dimitri knew that based on the expectant eyes of Derivik, he had been asked something. A few seconds later, and the interrupting noise had been translated into words by his mind that was trying oh so hard to catch up. As he was about to speak, Dimitri heard a questioning and curious voice asking about pirates.


He disregarded the voice as not talking to him and even if it was, Dimitri was far too overwhelmed, stressed and bitter to try and juggle two conversations at once, something he hadn't ever done. Not even looking at Derivik- based on his lack of acknowledgement of the man you would have assumed that Dimitri was talking to a wall- Dimitri replied a simple,


"Okay."


The bartender on the other hand ((who I am naming Varg because I've mentioned him enough for him to earn a name)), shot a surprised look at Luther.


"If there be a pirate sign up here, I wouldn't know about it. I don't know if ye've ever been here before, but while everyone." He paused gesturing to obvious scuttlers, "I'd suggest being a bit more hushed about what ye do in your free time. Though if yer asking me..." He paused, getting a bit more hushed, "I'd suggest ye stick by him if yer wanting any chance of finding Buckos here." He pointed a fat finger towards Derivik.

 

[Jack Dennings]

I think for a moment, then speak, "Well, as a matter of fact, I am looking for a crew." I pause, "But, I'm not looking for just cutthroats. To be exact, I'm looking for a navigator, a gunner, a surgeon, and a mechanic. Maybe even a boatswain. I'm not looking for a rag tag band of misfits though." I take another moment to pause, "However, if someone with one of those skills was looking for a captain, and their skill proved sufficient, I would hire them on the spot."


The bartender nods, "I'll tell any of em types that you 'ave work for em, if any comes through 'ere."


"Thanks, but no thanks. However, if anyone of the sort is in the area, I wouldn't mind if you told me." I say, while looking around, as if such a person was in the area. I glance back at the man to my right. "So, what do you say? Interested in joining my crew?" I guess I should check his skills first, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. Still, something about the man is very, very interesting. I'd like to find out what. I don't have enough coin to buy a ship though... I really am getting ahead of myself. Oh well, chances are he will say no anyway, and if he doesn't I'll see what happens.

 

[Maeve Harris]

Oswin had been listening in on the conversation as she served up the last of the drinks. She was getting a bit tired, but the men's talk of pirate crews was keeping her up and about. Many thoughts swirled through her head as she reviewed the mechanics of an airship in her head. Airships were something Oswin had taken a particular interest in; she found them rather fascinating.


She rounded the side tables and slid next to where the bartender (she believed his name to be Varg) was standing to where the other two men were standing. "Forgive my nosiness, but I couldn't help but overhear that you are interested in piracy," she said towards the man she had served the water to, speaking while she polished off a few shot glasses, "and I'd like to recommend that, upon choosing a ship if you haven't already chosen one, that you should look carefully at the propellers and side folds. They're the most crucial part of an airship, especially the propellers. The material of said propellers need to be firm enough to not flap around like a blanket in the wind, but not too sturdy, as in fear of the propellers weighing you down. Also, the wing-like folds should be shaped in just the right way in order to ensure maximum propulsion. Just a thought, I know it's all a bit overwhelming. It's just a suggestion."


Oswin talked about the ship as if she was reading it aloud from a book, while she began to wonder why she was even discussing this with them. Just trying to be helpful and make small talk, I suppose. Would be nice if I could put those skills to use. She presumed to quietly clean and stack the shot glasses neatly, her OCD taking over.

 

[Vibora]

Dimitri had said, "yes.", not even half a beat after Derivik had uttered his last word. Yes, Dimitri had spoken on an impulse, but the more he thought about it, the better of an idea it was. There wasn't really any other chance for him to use his skills, considering that most shipment crews had been using the same routes for decades, and most were full. Besides, Jeremiah spoke fondly of his pirate days, saying that although it was harsh and rough, something about that atmosphere brought the crew closer together than you could imagine, and how there was a certain charm to it all. And Dimitri needed work outside of his island; he was unsuited for the loud area he had known as home for 19 years, and none of the businesses were suited to him.


This was really his only chance at doing anything, so he knew he couldn't take back his word. Besides, although while this man was pale, thin, and tall with dark hair and Jeremiah had a god-given and sun-given tan, was stout and short with mousy hair, the man in front of him somehow reminded him of a younger Jeremiah, and he felt the need to follow close behind in whatever the man did. Dimitri heard a girl talk.


She was a short girl, at least a foot shorter, give or take a few centimeters. In fact, she was compact in general. Her eyes were a pastel green, and they seemed bright as she spoke about the ship. Dimitri couldn't really understand her, but what he could understand intrigued him.


As quickly as she burst into the conversation, she left it, returning to clean glasses. Dimitri's intense stare now followed her for several moments, and then to the glasses she cleaned. The girl had put them up so neatly, and her attention to detail was very interesting to him.


It was easy to relate to for him, not necessarily over the tiny glasses that he had never seen before, but to things like his music sheets always being in order, or his plants all getting the exact same amount of water.

 

[Jack Dennings]

I take in the the talk of both of them, then consider my approach to the situation. She seems to know a lot about ships... I wonder if she's a mechanic. I laugh, "Seem's good to me." I say to no one in particular. I look the girl in the eyes. She also looks interesting, something about her... So I take a small bow, "Derivik Soul, at your service. By any chance, are you a mechanic? I could very well use a skilled one right now." My, maybe I'll assemble my whole crew today!


The bartender chuckles, "Looks like you'll be fine without me helping yer out."


I glance at the bartender, "Indeed." I simply say.I tap on the counter, a habit of mine when I think. My biggest problem would be to acquire a sturdy ship, but that won't be easy... With all the money I've saved up, I don't know if I could afford a good cutter. Though I guess... I wouldn't need much more then that, with a small crew. Huh.

 

[Maeve Harris]

Oswin looked over her shoulder as she finished stacking the last of the glasses, eyebrow raised. "I wouldn't necessarily call myself a mechanic, Mr.Soul. I'm obviously a bit stranded in this hellhole as a barmaid. However," she glanced at the unorganized wine and rum bottles with distaste, and began to quickly and skillfully organize them as she spoke, "I can tell you the difference between a turbine and a reciprocle steam engine, repair a fixed pitch propeller, and everything in between...not to brag, of course."


She paused, realizing that she hadn't told the men her name. She also noticed that the boy with olive skin and rather fringed auburn hair was staring at her. However, Oswin pretended not to notice his eyes piercing her back.


She turned around and faced the two again, smiling a small smile, although she wasn't much of a smiling person, "Please pardon my lack of manners. I'm Oswin Oxford. My friends call me Ozzy, or at least I hope they would if I had friends." She turned back to rearranging the bottles. "Why are you interested in my skills and/or occupation, Mr.Soul?" Oswin had a general idea of WHY he was asking. She just wanted to make sure. It seemed quite too relishable to be true.

 

[Vibora]

Dimitri looked at the girl, well looked at Oswin. He had heard Derivik's name and Oswin's names, silently matching it up to their faces. However, ever lacking in the knowledge that names were meant to be exchanged he simply replied,


"Okay."


Then began to wander off, gathering empty glasses and adding each to the correct stack that it belonged to. He carefully arranged them, making sure that each stack stood as straight as he could manage to get it and that none had a single drop left- he wiped any leftover liquid away using the rag that Rosco hid in inside his bag- and if any stacks had over ten glasses in it, he would take out the extra glasses and start a new pile.


He didn't see much reason for separating the glasses before putting them in the cabinet, but he followed her little routine anyways, despite confused glances from the men around him who had gone to the tavern every night and had never seen this man working there. Dimitri had quickly taken to both Derivik and Oswin- he would either immediately be disinterested in someone or be quickly very fond of them. Derivik and Oswin seemed intelligent and strange, which Dimitri liked in a person.


He did listen in to the conversation of the two slightly, trying to multitask and listen to both, but mostly failed, simply focusing on the glasses and catching a few words here and there.

 

[Jack Dennings]

I glance at Dimitri, and find his actions... Interesting, in the least. My... What a crew I'm starting... I turn back to Oswin, and look into her foamy green eyes, "Then, Miss Oswin, though you can call me Derivik, I am asking you to join my crew. I could use someone with your... Expertise. Are you intrested, Miss Oswin? Or would you rather I called you Ozzy?" I look back at Dimitri. I haven't got his name yet. So I turn to the bartender, "Whats that fellows name?" I say, gesturing at Dimitri.


The man grunts, "Dimitri Nejem, 'es a skilled map maker alright, I've heard 'es on of the best."


I nod, and look at Dimitri again. And once more, his dark auburn hair sticks out to me. He wears simple clothing, gray button ups with slacks, but I get the feeling that he doesn't really care much about style. What are you doing... Mimicking a waitress? Quite the odd group I'm gathering... Well, that will make things interesting though, to say the least.

 

[Maeve Harris]

Oswin noticed how the man that Varg the bartender called Dimitri was stacking empty glasses. She recognized this as an impulsive disorder much like her own. It was a compulsion that she herself had learned to embrace, which is what Dimitri seemed to be doing as well. Realizing that she had begun to stare, Oswin turned back towards Derivik, who had asked her the question she had been feverishly hoping he would ask.


"I would be delighted to join your crew, Derivik," Oswin said with a polite smile, drumming her fingers on the table to contain her excitement, "and as for what you may call me...whatever suits you, I suppose. Oswin, Miss Oswin, Ozzy...makes no difference to me." She paused for a minute to look around the bar.


"Pardon me if this is rude, Derivik, but...are you considering on inviting more than two people to your crew? I doubt that you'll be able to run a ship rather successfully with only three people."