RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Aamir shook his head a little at Winter's comment about Sky. "I'm sure we'll find him soon enough. No doubt, he'll be wherever the fire is."

He gave a nod to the man that winter had been speaking with as well - there was no shame in being a deck hand, after all. He'd started out that way himself, and worked his way up over time. Much like anyone else, he supposed, although some lines of work were more cutthroat than others.

"Let's enjoy the evening while we still can." Eliza had gone over to dance with the woman Sky had been pretending to be, and Aamir watched them for a brief moment before letting his gaze linger on some of the others. There was a huge Al-Ashtavahk dancing with a tiny... was that one of the Aos Gaotha? Truly? Here, of all places?

Interesting! Though the size difference was almost comical, but they made it work. He smiled briefly, more to himself than anything, then drew his attention away once more as another man walked up. Aamir's eyes drifted over the mechanical arm, unsual make. He'd like to ask about it, but that usually wasn't considered polite, and they were at a fancy party and all.

He raised a glass nonetheless. "I can't say I'm the finest company anywhere, but I'd be happy to raise a glass anyway. Do I know you, sir?" He didn't, or at least he hoped he didn't. If this was someone's father, things were about to get awkward, and there were certainly a great many fathers the man could have been.

Well, as long as he wasn't a grandfather, Aamir could deal with it well enough. He'd just opened his mouth to inquire further and try to find out whose daughter this fellow had and whether he was about to be expected to propose or anything equally horrifying, when an unmistakable scent began to tickle his nostrils.

One did not last long as a pirate without knowing the scent of smoke. Winter had probably smelled it first. "Smoke." He didn't ask, because it wasn't a question. Suddenly, this was a matter of business -

Which, of course, was when the gunshots punctuated the conversation.

"Well, one of those is Sky-" A quick glance around, then a look to Winter's newfound friend - he was a Noxite, wasn't he? "Sir, if I'm not mistaken, that's your shipmate shooting things, perhaps you could convince him to stop. And you, stranger, if you'll not stab me in the back I could use you at my side, we've a job to do. Quiet-like. Find that smoke and I'll meet you there, momentarily. Winter, with me."

Aamir's hand took the swordswoman's elbow, pulling her along quickly, his head bowed just for a moment to her ear. "Let's do a little task of our own. Bring her back to the Cloud Cutter, will you."

She'd understand, in a moment. Aamir led her to the oddly matched dancers, briefly touching the shoulder of the large Al-Ashtavahk man. His voice was low. "Sir. My apologies, I know we have not met, but I could use a man of your size. There's a fire - don't shout - will you help us put it out? Myself, and a man with a metal arm, we're going to try to solve it before there's a panic. And just in case - miss, I hate to ask this of you, but my companion is blind. Can you lead her safely out?"
 
People swarmed around them as they moved, making it impossible for Alys to bend down and lift her skirt high enough to grab one of the daggers strapped to her legs. Instead, she reached up and grabbed at the pins holding up her hair, throwing away the useless ones, and gripping onto the ones that flipped open to reveal tiny razor blades. One for each hand.

Gunshots rang out in the ballroom, sending the crowd into an even greater panic. With Juniper’s arm slung around her shoulder, leading her away from the fire and towards the gunshots, Alys couldn’t help herself as she muttered, “They’re fucking idiots.” They’d get them all killed, or arrested, which was a death sentence in itself. If Ciaran was the only other crew here it was a blessing; he could take care of himself, Emryk would get Emer out, and the new crew - well, Alys didn’t have any loyalties to him. Perhaps she should. “Help me get them out,” she said to Juniper, almost absentmindedly, her attention drawn forward.

Caleb stood close to the shattered door, gun in hand, while a tiny version of Emryk, wearing a black, slitted dress scrambled away. Guards approached; one towards Sky, three towards Caleb. “Watch out!” She exclaimed, gaze intent on the latter, as a sword was swung towards him.
 


The waltz continued. More and more, their form was improvised; given the difference in size between the pair, it was far easier for Emryk to twirl his partner; much of his dancing had been done with partners far smaller than he, in his life, and the experience lent itself nicely to this sizable soirée. Confidence grew until the pair's pace quickened; by the time the first song ended, Emer had nearly gotten over her habit of stepping upon his leading foot. He was proud of her, in all honesty.

"You're doing wonderful." He stated, sparing conversation in favor of concentration. "I'm going to do something a bit tricky, and you're going to need to trust me." Emryk had danced to this song before; he knew its beginning, its crescendo, and its end. Most important above all, however, he had trust in his partner-- and all she needed to do was have faith in his own abilities in turn. "It will be wonderful. I promise." By now, the crowd had begun to notice the odd pairing; some of them had begun to watch. Some looked on in amusement; others with condescending appreciation, and some with disgust. It was his hope that he could give them all something to look at so they could kindly return their damned business to their drinks, or continue to stare with jealousy. "Eyes upon me. I'll give you a soft signal, and when I do, I need you to twirl as we'd discussed-- and then cross your arms over your chest. I'll toss you into the air. Don't yell-- and one, two, three--"

As the strings and trumpets built towards a triumphant climax within the waltz, Emryk stepped back and spun Emer with one hand above her head, leading her in an arc-- and then stepped close, hands settling to her sides to grip and hoist her into the air. Her arc took her high, body drifting skyward-- before she fell to earth, down, down, down, dress fluttering as she plummeted straight into the embrace of Emryk's arms. They less so caught her than broke her fall, allowing her feet to delicately touch upon the ballroom floor as one hand tucked in close to bring her side against his chest-- letting her fall into a natural dip, the waltz resolving into its final notes as his eyes stared into hers.

"Good." He breathed, smiling down at her with a soft, toothless grin. Sparse applause gathered amongst the onlookers, and Emryk stood straight, taking Emer with him. "Now curtsy, if you'd like. Enough dancing for today, I'd reckon. You were, dare I say, the most wonderful partner I could ask for." A small bow was given, and he led her away from the dancefloor proper, gaze once again stolen by her beauty.

KRAK.

Ice underfoot. The biting chill as a shiver crept up his spine; a gunshot. His posture stiffened; his mind went elsewhere, for a moment, then returned, grabbing her close and instinctively shielding her. A second sounded, and there was the barest sense of a flinch, but nothing came-- no bite, no oblivion, no warmth. Emryk looked down to Emer with narrowed eyes and a knurled brow, a sigh falling from his lips. "Are you alright? Are you hurt, anywhere--"

Nothing. Good. The Baron pushed towards the edge of the room, effortlessly wading himself and the wisewoman through the clamor that had begun to form by virtue of his stocky frame. His eight feet of height afforded him enough of a vantage to see the conflict some ways away. Silhouettes were hardly recognizable, but some assumptions came purely as intuition. Still, he held the benefit of the doubt. Surely not. Surely we know better. Surely we have class.

Apparently he was a touch too naive. A hand touched his shoulder, and Emryk looked down to the man who was there-- alongside a blindfolded woman. Ah. The Baron listened with intent, nodding and looking back over to the fight as smoke billowed from nearby.

"My foremost responsibility is my partner," Emryk replied, coolly. "I could lead both her and the woman out-- with my size, it should hardly be an issue forming a path-- and then I'll return to put out the fire and break up... whatever that is, over there." He muttered, glancing over once more to see... another of his kin, with the same scale color. His eyes narrowed. "Is that... ?" A sound mixed between a sigh and a scoff fell from his lips, and he shook his head. Nevermind. Nevermind.

 
"Of course," Emer replied, her heart fluttering at his words. She closed her eyes - and for a moment, she was flying. Back on the ship, back in the air, back among the clouds as they whipped around her in soft, gossamer strands. Then she was falling, down, down to earth - but without a crash, simply safe in the arms of her partner as he caught her and gently set her on her feet.

She opened her eyes.

"I -" she glanced around. Some people had been watching. Somewhat nervously, she smiled and gave a little curtsy, then followed Emryk back to the sidelines. "I have never - felt like this before. I dare not think I could have done nearly as much without your lead, Baron - if anyone was the wonderful partner here, it was you."

Standing on her tip-toes, she kissed him on the jaw.

"Thank you."

With all her focus on Emryk, it took her too long to realize something was happening back on the floor. Far too long to realize the tension in the air, the gathering clouds, were not from the noise of the crowd - but from something far more dangerous. Shouts. Cries. A pair rolling on the ground in the center, and gunshots fired, echoing with acoustic clarity in the massive hall.

That was -

Caleb? And Caleb?

No.

Something was wrong here. Something was happening. Emer tensed, pulling away from Emryk for a moment. There was a scent in the air. A thick, hazy scent that made all her feathers stand on end.

"That is - fire."

For a moment, she smelled sickly sweet among the sharp pungence, but no. It wasn't there. Not yet. But with the scent of smoke, the feeling of the crowd, the heat and the room and the cries and the - she was breathing far too heavily, heart pounding far too hard.

Empty. Sky.

Deep breath. She was touching Emryk. She could feel his arms in hers, feel herself calm. She was still settling when two strangers approached them - asking Emryk for help putting out the flames, and asking for Emer's help in leading out a blind woman. She blinked, putting her thoughts in order, taking another deep breath. And another.

"I can make my way out," she said, settling a hand on Emryk's arm. "There are others here. From the crew. We have to make certain they are safe as well."

She smiled.

"I will be fine."
 
Gunsmoke was always such an acrid smell and it mixed poorly with one sweeter. The crowd was a bit of a mush, but gunfire always did that to crowds for obvious reasons. It rang in her ears still, the gunfire, a nasty sound in a place like this built for music to fill the space, and deliver itself to her like an iron spike to the head. Aamir was handling things as he always did, smoothing what he could and getting hands in motion. She offered up only a brief wave of goodbye to the ship hand as Aamir led her away, at a decent pace. He spoke low as they walked, and Winter’s mask did well to mask her raised brow.

Well, Aamir was nothing if not consistent with his whims, she could say that with certainty. Well, she would certainly never say that.

They approached two others, a man and woman by voice, and certainly the woman that had caught Aamir’s gaze. Pitiable, that. She didn’t respond to his order, they both knew that she didn’t need to, it was an order so she would follow it. She kept her head lowered as they approached the woman in question and her companion. He was… alarmingly tall and she quite short, hard to visualize them dancing. Winter tilted her head back as if she were attempting to listen to the commotion behind — or playing up the effort needed anyway.

“We best make our way out before we’re caught in the panic.” Winter said. She slid her hand from Aamir’s arm and reached it into the dead space between their two groups. Directioned more towards the woman than it was her companion, but a little directionless. “May I borrow your arm? Be quicker going that way.” Winter paused and turned her head upwards.

“Might I impose on you to aid my companion? Best to deal with fire before it spreads, yes? We should be fine together.” She offered a small smile, as the smell of smoke prickled in her nose.
 
Alys was right: they were fucking idiots. Already Juniper had plenty to complain about in regards to the newest captain of the Hard Nox, and he had done little to shorten the list tonight. Hell, he'd just shot a goddamn gun in the middle of the ballroom. They were supposed to be laying low! This was supposed to be when they laid low, recovered from their journey and recuperated from their losses! Not whatever the hell this was.

The only boon was that it kept everyone distracted. No one saw as the texture of their hair, their skin tone, their voice all changed again. It had been a poor decision to change in the first place, but some part of their addled mind had hoped it would change something. Time would tell if it did, or if it was even good. Or if they'd jump ship and disappear forever. There was a lot riding on Alys' reaction.

Eliza stepped forward, a half drunken stumble really, falling into the guard who had swung his sword. "Oh gods! Wh-what's going on?" they said, imitating the panic of the nobility and the upper class as best they could, while trying to give Caleb a moment to get away.

If he didn't they vowed to roast him theirself.
 
Sky slithered through the crowd in his lizard form, removing the skirt of his outfit and tossing the fabric over the guard's head in an attempt to disorient him. His heart raced on his chest, by fault of the bullets meant for him by the captain of the Nox, a man, he found out, with little to no sense of humor. He hoped there'd be enough people standing in between them to prevent Caleb from noticing his change once again, this time growing ginger hair and a green pair of wings behind his back.

***

"Fuck!" Caleb exclaimed, frustrated for missing his target. As his feet returned to the ground, three guards had closed in on him and he saw the sword before hearing the familiar voice telling him to watch out. Caleb was ready to dodge but a woman got in the way, leaving him with just the two. He kicked the second in the stomach and jumped over the third, trying to make his way back to the fight he had started, but his opponent was no longer there.

"Fucking coward!" He stopped and only then realized there was smoke in the air.



 
The Fir Bolg chuckled, "I don't believe so, sir - but we may have a mutual-" Ciaran's words were cut short by the sharp smell in the air. Smoke. The peacock man recognized it too, then came the gunshots.

He seemed to recognize Caleb from the Nox, but Ciaran seemed to slip past notoriety - for the best, he thought. He'd follow his command for now, and set off towards the source of the smoke in hopes he wouldn't have to pull any of his people from a blaze. As he pushed through the partygoers he came to see what had caused the commotion, his dear captain seemed to be locked in battle with a lizard man? No- a shape changer, he skirt was too familiar.

Tonight had been fucked.

A sour taste sat on Ciaran's tongue as he realized he'd been tricked - again. All the more reason to figure out who the peacock man was and why the changeling wanted to start a brawl between them. Time wasn't on their side now, it was time for the crew to vacate. He'd trust Caleb and Alys would find their way out, he wasn't entirely sure who else had joined them at the ball. Fire first, that was the direct threat.

It seemed someone set the drapes ablaze conveniently as Caleb began to tangle with the changeling. He'd have to thank the arsonist later, but for now he needed to get the fire under control - it would cause enough of a stir for an escape.
 
Anger pulsated off of him, and as Alys drew closer, she began to understand why. His fluffy hat was nowhere to be found, likely lost among the crowd. His mask had shifted, hardly concealing. And his eye was ablaze, displaying nothing but that familiar fury.

Gods knew how long it’d been since he’d looked upon two of those green eyes, how long it’d been since they looked back to him.

Finally understanding, the fae decided to continue their earlier act. “I’m terribly sorry about my husband,” she exclaimed in exacerbation, hoping to slow down the pace of what was unfolding. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, watching as two of the guards recuperated, straightening to face them.

The other, who’d swung his sword and narrowly missed slicing someone - thanks to Juniper’s daring stumble - had begun to corral Juniper away. “Miss - for your safety, please step back and exit the room calmly,” she heard him say.

Alys continued. “He’s had far too much to drink, and that certainly wasn’t intentional, right darling?” She asked, angling her head towards him.

As if the two fucking holes in the shiny floor had been an accident.

Her second hand slowly slid down his arm towards his hand, towards the gun it held. Glancing back towards the guards, she firmly added, “We’ll be going now.” But when they drew their swords, recognition flaring in their eyes - likely of the one-eyed man whose face was splattered across wanted posters, Alys sighed quietly. The hand that had rested over his loosened, releasing some of the grip over the gun. “Or maybe it was,” she whispered to him. Intentional.

---

Temporarily disorientated by a face full of black fabric, the fourth guard reached to tear the skirt away. But it was too late; the lizard-man had disappeared amongst the crowd. Swearing beneath his breath, the man continued to press forward, in the general direction he'd last seen those scales.
 
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They allowed theirself to begin being escorted to the door, absentmindedly rambling about being afraid of the fire and the gunshots, all the while craning their neck to see their crew, behind them. Two of them soon to be engaged in a fight, the others working towards putting out a fire of their making. Sky, the other changeling, had already made his escape, and Eliza knew as well as any that it would be pointless to make chase now. They'd never find him, not in a place as crowded as this.

Instead, they turned against the guard, trying to stop their forward momentum. "Wait, don't attack that man! He was only trying to defend himself, I swear I saw the other one pull a knife on him! He must've- he was trying to rob him! He was the pirate, not this man!" They called out in vain, knowing it was a long shot, hoping that the slurring of their speech and their unsteadiness of foot would provide them some cover, if things got worse. Gods knew they couldn't fight like this, but they knew just as well they couldn't abandon everyone else, even if one of them had ruined the night so handily.
 
His shoulder tensed at the touch, relaxing once he realized it was Alys' hand, not one of the guards'. He took the time she bought them by trying to come up with a ridiculous excuse to calm himself down, even though his face, the one that'd mocked him kept popping up in his mind, making it quite a difficult feat.

"Go. I'll be right after." Caleb whispered, taking a step back to grab the hilt of the sword attached to one of the guards' hip while he struggled with the fabric over his head. He handed Alys his gun and nudged her to the side before jumping and spreading his wings, in hopes the guards would do the same. He'd wait for Alys to be far enough away before planning his own escape route.
 
While everyone ran around Alexander put his hat on. None of the fighting was aimed in his direction, which meant he was afforded the luxury of taking his time. He found over the years that acting rashly was far worse than taking your time. He shifted his gaze to the man shooting, saw it was his captain, and decided that dissuading him from shooting was not in his best interests. Protecting his Captain on the other hand, well, that was certainly was.

He strolled over as if the party was still normal and drew up beside his captain, wings or no wings. He wasn't armed with a sword because Alexander was terrible with swords. Last time he tried to use a sword he stabbed his own foot and had been stuck hobbling around for weeks while it healed. He'd also broken part of the sword and started a fire that ended up burning down half the black smith's forge. It was better if he didn't have a sword.

Instead he had a stick, a nice solid stick. Sure it was a cane, but what was a cane if not a large stick and what was a stick, if not a club that wasn't aware of it yet? He shifted the stick into a defensive position. Back off and let the good man depart, lest I break my cane on your head and charge you for the replacement." he said to the guard. It wasn't as intimidating as it sounded in his head.
 
Gods, when he got out of there, Alys decided that she’d kick his ass. Handing off a weapon - his weapon of choice - and trading it for something that evened the odds for the guards. Putting himself against two of them, like some fucking hero.

Holding the gun for the second time that night, she moved forward, deciding - against her better judgement - to trust what he said and move towards the door. Towards Juniper. The number of frantic people persisted, sweeping her up among their movements, thankfully towards the shattered remains. But it was uncontrolled, and the smoke was getting thicker.

That fire should’ve been enough to get them all out.

—

“Get out of the way, old man,” one of the guards replied instantly, brushing off the threat as if it were nothing. Because it was.

“Tell me, how much will the Lady pay us on top of the bounty for O’Cain’s head?” The other sneered, directing the question towards his colleague.

“Not much of a Deadly Shot tonight, is he? All he’s got is an old man and the whore he’s paraded around tonight. If he were in his prime we’d be getting more…”

“But it’ll be enough to buy you thousands of those fucking canes..."

One outstretched his wings, springing up to join O’Cain in the air, slashing his sword at the pirate. Slashing - but feigning. Because the other guard, the one who’d taken far too long to remove the cloth from his head, the unarmed one, had flown towards the fairy from behind, hoping to topple him back down onto the ground.

The third remained below, lifting his sword and advancing on the older pirate. Perhaps they’d get a couple coppers for him.

—

The fourth guard, the one in charge of carefully herding the drunk woman away, stopped in his tracks. He took in her cries of defence; took them in and bristled. “You’re one of them,” he stated quietly yet evenly, hand reaching for the handle of his weapon without breaking eye contact.
 
Eliza set their jaw, and put on a face of feign offense. "The insolence!" they said, placing one hand at their chest, the other reaching out for his wrist, shoulder, or wherever they could reach. "How dare you imply I would be working with pirates?" the false noble asked, carefully avoiding looking at the commotion behind the guard. If they let him look, that would ruin their play, what they were going for.

As their hand found purchase, they applied heat. Not fire, just an uncomfortable warmth, enough to make the guard aware of it, enough to, hopefully, make him hesitate, and think. They slowly upped the energy as they drew near his face, replacing their indignation with a stone cold glare. "Surely, it was a mistake, yes? One we can both ignore, instead of..." they squeezed his shoulder, pushing the heat to just below a burn, "... escalating the issue?"
 
Caleb got rid of his mask, for there was no reason for his identity to be concealed anymore. Part of the motive behind parting ways with his weapon, besides the need to keep Alys protected, was to prevent unnecessary deaths of men who were only doing their jobs. They proved death was what they deserved the moment they opened their mouths.

"Don't compare her to your mom." He said, attentive ears listening to the buzzing of wings behind him. It was a good thing the ceiling was so high up, allowing Caleb to fly higher and over the first guard, swinging his sword at the side of his neck. He didn't stay to see if the head would fall off or not, instead flying to where there used to be a glass door that'd lead to the garden, choosing the opposite route to Alys. Alexander would be left to fend for himself with his cane, which would serve as a good enough test of his fighting skills. If he survived, the Nox would welcome him home with open arms.
 
For a second, the guard hesitated, embarrassment and fear rising in his gut. After all, he'd accused a noble woman of being a pirate. But as she grew closer, placing her hands on him, threatening him with words and unnatural heat, the guard knew he was right. No law abiding citizen would threaten a guard, not with this... magic.

He wrenched himself free, stumbling away, eyes wide behind his smiling mask. A pirate witch. Without another word, he withdrew his sword and attacked.

---

Blood splattered, and the body grew weightless, plummeting down onto the dancefloor. His colleague followed in vain, quickly discovering that his sword had partially severed the guard's head. His sword in the hands of a wanted pirate. The contents of his stomach churned at the sight and he looked away, watching as a pair of orange wings fluttered further and further away.

---

After locating the physician, he'd stumbled upon a horrific crime. The guard knew he'd be fired in the morning, his saving grave being the shouts and chaos that broke out within the ballroom. He was assisting with ushering the guests through the broken doors when he saw a man flying above, dressed in black and white. Eyes narrowing, he spread his wings and joined him above. "Looking for your wife?" He said, taking in the Duke's maskless face.
 
"Of course, dear," Emer replied warmly, taking the woman's hand on her arm and placing her own hand over it. "This way. There are less people."

She guided the blind woman to the edge of the crowd, then led her towards the door, only glancing back at a moment to see the chaos unfolding. Emryk would make this better. She had full faith in him. And - while one might fret over a fight and fire ruining the night, the happy moments were already a part of her. The dance had been lovely.

She would have to thank him more properly later.

"Mind your step, there is a small drop here," she murmured, leading the woman through a side way. "We're almost to the exit, and then it is a straight walk to the manor gates."
 
They'd almost managed to get away from this without having to fight, with just a few threats. For some godsforsaken reason, however, the guard didn't take the hint, that maybe he was outmatched, that this wasn't a fight he wanted to take, that they were trying to save him. The moment his sword left its sheath, both he and Eliza knew his fate was sealed.

If it hadn't been for the fact that they were thoroughly inebriated, they'd have been more than ready for the attack. As it were, somewhat aware of how desperate the conflict was getting, they only just managed to duck out of the way, the blade whizzing past, threatening to remove head from shoulders. "You should have ran," they said, extending their hand outwards.

A small burst of flame, controlled to target his fancy, and almost certainly flammable, pants. Nothing more, certainly not enough to take this manor with it, or so they hoped.
 
“Thank you, you don’t know how oft that man is to take things too fast.” Winter said, with a light laugh. It wasn’t a false statement, though it did leave out what Aamir knew of her limitations. Never too little, never too much, but always on that line wasn’t it? Winter traced the tip of her cane across the ground ahead until she found the edge. She had feathers didn’t she? Soft, and they explained Aamir’s interest didn’t they. What an odd place to find an aos goatha dancing with a giant. There was a quiver perhaps, a touch of nerves outside of the bravado of the moment?

“Your companion seemed a capable sort, I’m sure he will be fine.” Winter said, gently. The sounds that followed them through the door was incoherent to her ear, but Aamir would do as he pleased, and she had no doubts Sky would find a way to slip free as he always did. “If it’s no trouble, I’m staying in a ship down by the docks, and the company would be appreciated.”
 
"Trust me, I am well acquainted with the sort who treat life as a race," Emer replied with a light laugh of her own. The outside night was cool, a faint breeze rustling the hedges as they passed.

"The Baron is quite capable." Winter would hear the smile in her voice, the warmth in her words. "I trust him to take care of himself."

Still, at the request to take her down to the docks, Emer hesitated, suddenly pausing.

"If you would not mind, could you wait by the gate? I am certain your own companion would come to greet you, and I have my own folk to look after here as well." She sounded apologetic but resolute. "If you still need help after I see to my own, I will happily guide you."
 
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