RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Though parting from the subject of tales yet made was a difficult task enough, Mea could hardly stomach the city of Leimor as she stepped around fetid puddles on its spare streets. The foul air turned the grey city’s sights into grit, and even with the cloth covering her nose and mouth Mea’s throat felt the air scrape through her lungs as she breathed; an inhospitable place to a singer alone without considering her natural home and the predilections such an upbringing inevitably brought. Leimor was the antithesis of the sort of place she liked to travel, though the coin that was there spent like any other.

It was not her first visit to the grey city, and she had learned ways of increasing her earning from her performances. She had dressed in a faded green, too muted to stand out on its own but a splash of color nonetheless against the drab backdrop she was provided. The clothing was functional to cover her skin from Leimor’s pollution, but strategic as notes began to softly pour from her instrument. She walked the streets at first, mingling with the crowds and bringing that soft serenade to their ears just long enough for the sound to tantalize them.

By the time she stumbled across the loudly dressed, and loudly spoken, soapbox storyteller Mea had already gathered a small group of younger listeners, entranced by the soft hope that wound its way through her notes. It was a subtle thing, the tune almost disheartening but for the softly strummed lightness that wove beneath it, a tapestry of song that she had yet to unfurl. Even without words curious eyes followed Mea as she positioned herself nearly directly across the street from the elevated, spear wielding tale weaver.

”Come, come, and listen.” The words were near whisper, but more than enough to draw her followers and more closer as she leaned against a dingy wall. Black eyes flashed around the crowd as her notes grew louder, solidifying in the air to fall heavy on the ear and pull at the heart with their weight. ”This is a tale of a vision, of a dream, of those desires that lie between what we truly want and what we truly deserve.” The words were almost song themselves from her throat, and though they might not have been timed to the music she played they drew the listener in regardless.

The song was one of tragic love, a favorite for the morose people of the land. She was shameless in her gaze as it drew to the woman who wove an unbelievable and fragmented tale across from her, boldly attempting to meet her gaze in what might have been a challenge of a professional nature. Though the colorful plumage might have attracted some attention the soapbox peacock cawed like a crow, entertaining for a moment but no comparison to the practiced vocality Mea had worked on for many years. She didn’t feel threatened, no, not by the circus escapee. But perhaps, just maybe, a bit of competition would earn them both a bit a more coin.

That is, if the storyteller she challenged was performing as she was. If not her pocket would be the heavier for it either way.
 
The tea wasn't exactly to Alys' liking; she typically enjoyed chamomile with honey, but in this case, she'd trust Emer's judgement. The spice and temperature of the beverage warmed her from the inside out, something she was appreciative of given Leimor's cooler climate.

For a moment she contemplated Emer's offer. Her first instinct was to decline, on the same basis as the wise woman's reasoning, but there wasn't any harm in being absolutely certain. "Well alright then. Just to be sure," she said, placing the tea down on the counter beside her and glancing towards Emer expectantly.
 
"I can't say that I have seen Leo today, Beck, sorry," Juniper said, half caught off guard by the sudden hug. Half their time had been spent with Beck likely planning their death, or at least they thought so, so why the sudden friendliness? It didn't make sense, but... it was for the better. A good note, at least. They hugged the girl back loosely, their way of showing it was good for her to leave, before taking a step back.

"What now, then? I don't suggest staying here, but where will you go?"
 
She'd have to go looking for him then, which meant going back on the ship. She wasn't looking forward to it. Beck shrugged at Juniper's question.

"I'll figure it out." It was her only option, so it'd have to do. The amount of money she had should get her by for at least a week before having to look for work, and if worse came to shove at least she knew how to fend for herself. "If you see him please tell him I said thank you. Goodbye, Juniper."

With a small wave Beck began walking away into the streets of Leimor. If she was lucky, she'd find a friendly face somewhere.

***

"Alright." Naveen shrugged, and Caleb watched him disappear into a dark alley. It was for the best, and hopefully that way he'd find himself food that didn't belong to the Nox.

His next stop was the bath house. He soaked in scented water until his hands and feet were all wrinkly and, with a fresh set of new clothes, Caleb went of to explore the commerce in Leimor.
 
"Talk to him when you are ready, quartermaster." Emryk replied, sorting out his own share with a sigh. "And not a second earlier. Any patience you may afford him is a gift. Remember that."

And then she left, leaving the Baron alone with his thoughts. It was with an almost mortified stare that he regarded the rest of the gemstones held within the chests at the far corner of the room; while he would have preferred to leave them in the Ice Lands, he would have been a fool to suggest the prospect to anyone on board the ship. It was wrong. Horribly wrong-- but he had already voiced his objections once, and they had fallen upon deaf ears. The least he could do was count out his own share in coin, not gemstone.

One diamond was slipped into his pocket to bury, as a means of respect; disturbing the dead was hardly a worthwhile endeavor. Time would tell if they would be cursed, as the enterprising fae excavators had been when they'd brought their tools and their greed to the Isles.

And, of course, time would only tell if the Al'Ashtavahk would bear the brunt of the consequence for avarice.

Presuming Emer occupied-- and, frankly, wishing for a bit of time to himself-- Emryk stepped free from the ship with nary a word to another, disappearing into the portside crowds with as much guile as an 8-foot man could muster.
 
Fortune-telling brought business to establishments like this. The proprietor, Zadari, was the sort of man Ruby Songbird found untrustworthy but not dangerous. So long as she spent some of her earnings on at least one meal out of the day, she was permitted to sit at an open table with her star-maps, her crystal ball, and her tarot cards. In return, she had access to wealthier clientele, who were just as superstitious as those she had left behind in Grodrock.

Since parting ways with her companions, Ruby had made herself comfortable in Leimor. It was not so different from Grodrock, except people had more money to spend frivolously, and the food was admittedly better. Or, perhaps, it was just Zadari’s food, and the clientele of The Last Meal. She elected not to share that compliment with him, because she did not think he could afford to inflate his ego any more than it was.

Today, there was a young couple seated across from her. Human, both of them. They were a handsome pair, wealthy judging by their dress, but not quite nobility. His hands had the light callouses of some sort of craftsmanship, while his wife’s were smooth and delicate. Recently arrived merchants, most likely, of some sort of crafting trade. She did not pry, because that would shatter the illusion.

Ruby swept her hands across the deck, the fur of her coat rustling as they explained their problem. The pretty young wife was with child, but had been plagued with dreams of ill fate. Ruby did not smile as the dreams were described, instead playing the steady listener. Such dreams, she recalled from her mother and grandmother, were often the work of the herbs given to alleviate pains or stresses. They could be countered with other remedies, or some form of relaxation before going to sleep.

But, ah, they did not come to her for medicine. Medicine was not her trade. Portends of ill omens – or good ones – were. She slipped the deck back together again. Of course, a skilled liar could use the gesture to slip the three cards of their choice to the top of the deck. But she was not that sort of a liar. The cards would reveal what they would, and whatever that was, she would put them at ease.

Her hand overturned the first card, then the second, then the third in silence. The reading must be taken in full, to give her time for her comforting lie. A moment for a flourish over them, and she was ready.

"The Ace of Wands, reversed, is an ill omen for one with child. This is your dream. The second card, the Queen of Pentacles, is the key to your dream, to fulfill or avoid its fate. She is the practical woman, the skilled mother. Hard-working and loving. Ten of Pentacles is the outcome of both your dream and your counter against it. It is an inheritance." She turned her serious face to the young woman. "You will be blessed with an heir, both of you. If you raise it well and work hard, you will be able to leave your business comfortably in their hands."

The woman smiled, even laughed, in relief. The young man squeezed her hand, then reached out and took Ruby’s. She endured his touch, if only because she knew that there was a gold coin to be pressed into her palm, in addition to the two she had already been given for solutions. They gave her their thanks, and then walked to an empty table and sat. To an extent, that reading had been as useful as herbs to put the woman’s mind at ease. She would sleep better, and her appetite would return, which Zadari would like.

With her customers gone, Ruby shuffled her cards, and returned to her own soup.
 
Are many bears this big around?

The question came from a boy who seemed to be a giant, but was she not used to giants? And giant bears? He was taller than her even while she was perched on her soap box, but this did not dissuade the story teller in the slightest. Nor, in fact, did the singer setting up shop nearby. Singers were good entertainment - and besides, if this one listened well enough, well, maybe the storyteller's exploits could be immortalized in song and reach the far ends of the realm!

But! Back to the question, and back to the tale!

"Normally? Why, that one was just a baby! You should have seen its mother! The next time I passed through that way it was months later, but she certainly remembered! Well, I wasn't about to be swallowed by a bear a second time - once was enough, thank you - but it was going to be a rough time bringing her down. Hide like iron once they grow up, of course, can't get through it with just a spear. Not even a musket! Not that I had a musket - bad form, firearms. A bit like cheating, isn't it? Got to stick to lower grade weapons to even the playing field a little, otherwise it just wouldn't be fair!"
 
Emer knelt beside Alys, slipping a hand beneath her shirt to rest on her abdomen, eyes closed for a moment. After a few long seconds of hushed murmuring, she opened them.

"Aha. Well, I certainly have news for you."

A thin smile crept onto her lips as she used the edge of the examination table to help herself back up to her feet. Another few long seconds - these not for practice, but instead simply to let the tension hang.

"...you have nothing to worry about."

The wisewoman's smile widened, as if she'd just told a terribly funny joke.

"But by your face, you fretted, hm? Come to me for wormwood, dear. Every time, before and after. Easier to prevent than to cure." She settled back in her own stool, sipping her coffee gently. "Who is the special man? Or is that a whisper I cannot hear?"
 
Alys tried - and failed - to hide the smile from her face, her head shaking slightly in response to Emer's delivery. Deep down she'd known, yet the pause had caused anxiety to flicker within her chest and doubt to creep in. Doubt that Emer had evidently noticed. Still, it was good news, and she no longer needed to fret about something that hadn't happened. Something she'd refuse to happen.

Picking up her tea once more, the fae gently blew on the cup, causing the steam to disperse into the air. Her gaze flickered to Emer's and she sipped silently, pondering over the question. It was innocent enough, but coming from Emer, both of them sitting in the clinic with their beverages, it almost felt like her saucy chat with Juniper in the Allegrian baths.

"It's no secret. Not much to tell either. Handsome Allegrian soldier," Alys said, innocently shrugging her shoulder. But for the first time, she wondered about what had happened to him. She remembered him beating Caleb senseless, and Ciaran stepping in, but beyond that? His remains could very well be sitting on the bottom of the ocean, among the coral reef, picked dry by the crabs and other creatures that lurked in the deep. "But I'm not the one with a man on board. Is he being good to you?"
 
Emer stifled a laugh with the back of her hand, nearly sloshing her tea out of its cup.

"He's not quite my man -" she protested, though it was a weak attempt, and she immediately reconsidered. "Well. At least. He has - grown to be a good friend to me."

She sipped the tea.

"We are - exploring the possibilities of something more, with all the commitments and troubles that come of it."

Another sip, cup still held high, moreso to hide her face than to drink from it.

"He treats me quite well. Baron Emryk is a polite and kind-hearted man."
 
The wise woman's words stung like a cleansed wound, one that had eventually healed but left behind a mangled scar. More certainly did come with commitment and all sorts of trouble - Alys knew that well. She'd had something like that once, and despite the bliss, she only remembered the bitterness. That didn't mean she couldn't watch from afar.

She took another small sip of her tea, the taste of ginger strong against her tongue. "Oh please, it's impossible not to notice how he looks at you," Alys pointed out, a smug smile appearing in response to Emer's sudden bashfulness. "You two are well suited for each other."

"Tell me, are you planning on spending some time together in Leimor? I know it's quite grey, but surely there's something romantic you can do together - you know, to explore the possibilities of something more."
 
"How he looks at me? Ah, well, yes, I suppose - there may be something there."

Another sip, then another, then she tipped the cup back to drain the rest and set it down on the table beside her.

"I do not think I will be travelling into Leimor, except for new supplies," she continued, a bit firmer now. "Cities are - not my sort of fun. Busy, crowded, loud. You should have the fun for me, hm?"

She nodded, gesturing at the novel she'd set down.

"I think I am better suited making my way through all these books."

Besides - Emryk wasn't the sort to want to take her out on the town, was he? And they weren't in that sort of dynamic. Not yet, at least. She remembered their ill-ended trip to the fair, and shuddered to think of a repeat of that day.
 
A somewhat disappointing answer, especially with the prospect of a new and blossoming relationship, but Alys supposed everyone had their preferences. Although Leimor was hardly as exciting as Allegria, it was a new place, and if she knew one thing for certain, the fae would make sure she'd have a good time. After all, she had money to spend.

"Speaking of books, I've been thinking about improving my reading." Her current skills were abysmal, probably that of a ten year old, but not everyone needed to know that. "Are those any good?" Alys asked, nodding towards one of the stacks. She figured if the content was interesting enough she could push through it, else she'd have to ask someone to put her out of her misery. Tilting her head to the side, she tried to decipher the title of the book beside Emer. A... Maid...
 
"Some are, yes," Emer replied, shifting her attention to them. Standing, she moved over to one of the stacks, setting them aside one at a time with a gentle fondness. "Our - Sinead - had a broad taste. I must admit, some of these are beyond my skill, though it does not hurt to try, hm?"

Moving back towards the chair, she picked up The Maid Called Mary, running a finger along the pages' edge.

"Many of her books, however - and, between us, what I think were likely a guilty pleasure - are simple stories of a more risqué nature."

The wisewoman grinned almost conspiratorially.

"Like, for instance, in this, a maid of a noble house falls in love with the youngest son, but he's already been promised to another woman. I am not certain if things work out well, yet, but - these sorts books often do. Drama, danger, romance, but in the end, a happy ending." Emer held the book against her chest and sighed. "I quite like a happy ending."

She glanced at Alys.

"You can take some, if you'd like. I have recommendations!"
 
Drama, danger, romance, books with a risqué nature - all of it peaked Alys' interest. "How scandalous..." Draining the rest of the liquid from her cup, Alys rose to join Emer by the stack, her fingers gently taking a book from the pile. Flipping through the pages, she noticed the words were awfully small. But if the stories were as interesting as Emer described, maybe she'd get through it. "I'll just try one for now. What's the easiest to read? And most exciting?" Her grin matched the one Emer had before, while describing their former captain's literary tastes.
 
"Ah, well -"

Emer moved to the side, letting Alys look through the books beside her.

"The Chamberlain's Changeling Concubine - quite witty, but it does tend towards drier side. A Rose and a Rope, that one was certainly an exciting read, though I'm not sure I would recommend - a few Good Sailor almanacs, some treatise collections. I doubt we'd find much plot in these, hm?"

Emer tapped on the books, slid them aside, rummaging deeper and deeper until she found a small, well-creased book with a candle embossed on the cover. Picking it up, she flipped it to the first page, and smiled.

"It was a winter night when I first saw her. She stood at the edge of the bridge, her hair tied back in a bun, her nose blue from the cold. In the light from the lampposts, she almost looked a ghost, but I knew ghosts weren't supposed to shiver in the wind."

The wisewoman held up the book up.

"A Candle in the Window. This is a lovely book. Not the longest, not the densest, perfect for a light read. An orphaned girl happens upon a traveling merchant one day, and she decides to - ah, well. I shan't spoil. But rest assured, there is intrigue, excitement, passion. All good things."

Passing the book into Alys' hands, she clutched her shawl tight around her shoulders and let out a light sigh.

"Do you read, much? Sky knows I try to, myself. It's still a struggle, even with all of Sinead's help over the years, but she was not one to back down from a challenge."
 
The bell rang as Caleb walked into the jewelry store. With many jewels on board he could've brought one to ask for something custom made, but that would take time and Caleb didn't wish to stay in Leimor much longer than necessary.

"Good afternoon, may I help you?" A woman asked, behind the counter. She was older than he was, he could tell by the smile wrinkles next to her eyes, but not enough to be seen as an old lady.

"I'm looking for something big and shiny that says 'I fucked up and I'm sorry." The woman laughed.

"An apology gift. How big was the fuck up? You know what they say, the bigger the mistake, the bigger the gem." As the woman left to find the jewelry he asked for, Caleb roamed the shop, looking over the display of golden earrings.

"I don't think it was that big…" he answered mostly to himself. Caleb wished things could go back to how they were before the Ice Lands, before he became captain. He missed talking to Alys and seeing her smile. Last time he gifted her with something everything changed between them, perhaps that could be replicated.

Before the shop owner returned, Caleb's eye spotted something that made him think of her right away. It wasn't huge, on the contrary. A small chain necklace with three golden stars, each the size of a bean.

"This one will make her forgive you, I guarantee it!" He turned around to see the necklace the woman held out to him. Golden as well, but thick and heavy looking, with small diamonds all over it and a bigger stone, a ruby in the middle. Caleb could tell she was trying to sell the most expensive one she had, and he smiled at her effort.

"I'll take it. And this one too." He pointed at the small, starry one."

***


Ronan's jaw dropped at the woman's story, it was almost too absurd to be real. He wasn't the only one, the children around him were intrigued as well.

"How did you escape the second time?" He asked, taking mental notes on what to do in case he encountered himself in a similar situation in the future.

***

Naveen wiped off the blood out of the corner of his lip. He hadn't sucked this one to death, but left her passed out in the corner of the same alley she'd been ambushed. A prostitute no doubt, not that he cared about what his food did for a living.

Stepping back out into the crowded avenue, Naveen started making his way to the same inn he and Solomon stayed whenever they visited Leimor. The Al'Ashtavahk headed in his direction was easy to spot, tall as he was. Naveen smiled and nodded at him in recognition.
 
Lucien had spent the majority of the journey in his cabin. He was rather pleased with the outcome of his negotiations with the quartermaster, although the vampire knew his threat almost certainly spurred O'Cain to action. He would undoubtedly attempt to find a more permanent means to remove Lucien from the ship, most likely using the pet King had left behind.

That was another thorn in his side. Naveen dogged the quartermaster's steps with relentless purpose, forcing every interaction, however minimal, to end with a sour taste in his mouth. Naveen was an ugly creature, unrefined and bestial, preying on whoever suited his fancy at the time. Lucien was nothing like him, despite the former's insistence otherwise. He just needed to ensure Naveen stayed away from the fledgling.

Speaking of whom, Nessa had returned his cloak, not speaking of the incident that led it to be in her possession in the first place. That was perfectly acceptable to Lucien, who would rather bury that lapse of judgment, and return those memories to the earth where they belonged. The cloak had been returned to its place, but not before Lucien noticed an object that was not there previously. A journal, definitely old, almost certainly taken from the abandoned city that they’d left behind. He had tossed it to one part of his desk, spending the rest of the night sampling and refining his meads, noting down new ideas for meads. He doubted that there would be anything worth collecting within Leimor, as no doubt the filth that permeated the city left its mark upon the blood of its citizens.

Lucien’s attention had been drawn back to the journal as the light of day filtered back into the cabin. He had just begun to flip through the pages, one eyebrow climbing as the words processed, when he was interrupted.by three gentle taps upon his chamber door. One of the crewmates, perhaps, sent to fetch him by the quartermaster. That or a simple notification that the ship had landed. Regardless, Lucien ignored it, flipping to the next page as three more knocks came, shaking the door in its frame. Irate, Lucien strode to the door and threw it open, just as the knocker shouted for him.

“What do you want, pup?” Lucien growled, none too pleased to see his least favorite of the Truth Teller refugees. Perhaps he came to the vampire as a challenge, a meaningless duel to prove to himself that he hadn’t been replaced as O’Cain’s dog. Whatever it was, he had best spit it out before the door was slammed in his face.
 
As the door jerked open suddenly Leo’s shield was swept into his hands, an instinctive motion that might have been overcautious were the person on the other side anyone but Sinead’s hound. Despite the action his eyes remained steadily fixed upon Lucien, defiance branded clearly there though no subject gave it form. He bristled at being called a dog again, but left the insult where it lay as he gathered his thoughts to speak. The vampire seemed to grow more irate by the second as he did so.

”What do I want, stray?” Perhaps the insult hadn’t been left alone as he intended, but he knew that Lucien would brush his own aside. He wasn’t entirely sure that calling him a stray even was an insult; after all, that was what they called dogs without owners, wasn’t it? Cautiously he looked around, peering from door to door and up and down the hallway before pushing forward through the door against Lucien’s steadfast form.

”I want you to teach me to kill you.” There was a moment of silence as Leo considered his words. Stammering, he sought to correct his mistake. ”N-no. I mean I want you to teach me to kill vampires.” Who better to teach him than a vampire, he figured. He only knew three of them, and while Lucien was certainly not the most friendly of the group Nessa was unlikely to be able to teach him how to kill. That left only Lucien and Naveen, and one of them happened to be his prey.

”If it can bleed I can kill it, but there aren’t many vampires in prison. I am sure you can understand why.” Leo lowered the shield finally, accepting whatever punishment the Navigator doled out for barging into his room. ”Ice-Face has to go. We have enough of King’s people here as it is. Since you seem to be afraid to take care of the problem, I will.” With his help, of course. It wasn’t lost on Leo that his argument had holes, but that was to be expected from someone who had such little experience. Lucien had centuries, at least, and his experience would serve to educate Leo far quicker than his own trial and error might.

”A leech knows how to remove another leech, don’t they?”
 
Beck wandered off, without answering Juniper's question. Their face became puzzled, but they let her go. Better to not hold her up. Instead, they turned to the storyteller. Ronan had drawn their attention to her with his question. and now that they were paying attention, they couldn't deny their curiosity. Of course, the story sounded like complete bullshit, but they wouldn't know for sure if they didn't listen, would they?

Quietly, the changeling stepped into the crowd, doing their best to not stand out, and began to actually pay attention.
 
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