RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2



Mr. Lucien saved me.

Emryk furrowed his brow, rolled his shoulders, and nodded. After a moment, he looked to the girl, standing up with the body to tuck against his bare chest. What could he say, to something like that? Doubtless something she'd heard before; the girl had been on the Truth Teller, after all. Even as a young girl, she'd been privy to morally repugnant acts by those she considered her caretakers. It was unconscionable to place a child on that ship...

... and for her to remain here, too. There was kindness, here, but what was kindness in the face of brutality like this?

Quietly, he set the corpse down for a moment, kneeling before Pris and keeping his hands upon one leg. His gaze softened as he looked upon her-- how could it not?-- and a gentle sigh fell from his maw. "I know. I know he did-- and I am thankful to have you with us." His address was softer than Alys' reproach, and his hand fell to her shoulder-- nearly encapsulating her entire arm, with the size of his great mitts-- to give a singular pat. "Awful men can do good deeds. Just as good men can do awful deeds. I'm sure you know that, but the question you must ask yourself is-- would a good man do this?" Emryk asked, gesturing to the covered contours of Leo's cadaver. "Do not think you owe him anything for saving you; it was the right thing to do, and I am thankful he did it, but I am sure that anyone else on the Nox would have done the same."

He hoped.

And then he stood, cradling the boy's corpse and moving past with a soft, melancholic smile. It faded as he passed, his gaze leveling with Alys as they departed for the furnace room. The gentle features of his face hardened into vacancy and ire as he walked, footsteps brief.

"To answer your question. I found Naveen roaming the alleyways in Leimor, preying on some woman," Emryk stated, his grip subconsciously tightening about Leo. "I beat him for it. Brought him back to the ship to chain up; he's probably out there now, licking his wounds and feeding."

The disgust was evident in his tone, his gaze creased with no small measure of absolute revulsion. The things he'd said about Emer-- the subtle threats he'd made against her. Emryk had not forgotten.

"I will not make the same mistake twice."

 
It didn't surprise her; hearing about Naveen and his hunting habits. The thought cascaded though, and she suddenly felt his hand over her heart, fingers dragging over her bloodied forehead, bringing them between his lips, sampling. Goosebumps arose on the back of her neck, as she remembered the way he looked down at her, as if she were nothing but a helpless doe. He'd probably toyed with those women in the same way - but worse, infinitely worse. Anger rose through her, as it did in the Ice Lands.

But anger was not all that was gained with this new information. Emryk had beat him and brought him back. Chained him. And left Leo to guard him. She remembered Emryk's voice echoing through Lucien's room, bellowing down at Leo. And she understood. It was the Baron's choice of sparing a vampire that started this mess.

She didn't glance back as they walked towards the furnace room. But when they finally reached the door, she opened it and finally settled her gaze on the Baron, on the hardness of his features. He was right, of course, it had been a mistake to let him live. But if he'd killed Naveen - what would the consequences be then? How would Sol retaliate? Knowing what she did, about Caleb's deal and Sol's ownership over the Nox, Naveen's death would need to be strategic, purposeful.

It was warmer inside, understandably so, with several chains scattered on the floor. Chains that had once held Naveen. "Does that apply to the one that still lives among us?"
 


Silence fell between the two as they pushed into the furnace room; Emryk crossed the threshold and walked towards the large, brass organ of the Nox, boots stepping over loosened chains and bloodstained patches of wood. He did not answer Alys for a good, long moment, opting instead to open the furnace door after wrapping his hand in a bit of the jacket that hung loose from Leo's covered body.

"I'm going to find him," He stated. "See if it does."

And then, before he could regret the act, he gently tossed Leo's body into the furnace-- feeling the swell of heat and the burning tide of light wash along his front as he jacket caught light, smoke billowing from the opened maw of the furnace as the flame embraced him a final time. Emryk's gaze lingered upon the inferno-- and then he swung the door shut, keeping the scent of a burning corpse from the room. The fire almost seemed to flicker in his gaze a moment longer as he turned to Alys, snout curled into a frown.

"He deserved better." The Baron stated, eventually. "Perhaps I'm a fool for saying that, but I know he spoke fondly of you." With a great roll of his shoulders, Emryk gave a respectful nod to the woman and walked past her.

"I know he made the right decision, promoting you." He stated, looking over his shoulder at her for a quiet spell of study. "We will do better. For him. For everyone." Another nod. "And I trust you to do so."

And then he was gone. She'd be able to find him if he followed, no doubt. It was clear where he would go next.

 
Lucien gazed upon the wreckage that had become of his sanctum. Papers were strewn about, broken ceramic and crimson smears covering the floors. His door itself has been rendered nonfunctional by the pup's desperate thirst. He would need to barter with Mal to fix it. Perhaps he could offer a sample of his blood in trade, to see if it preserved Leo's arms better than their normal tactics. Lucien doubted it would be able to transform them. During his ritual he had been led to believe that life was one of the catalysts of the process, and Lucien was almost undoubtedly sure that whatever Mal was, it could not be considered alive.

As Lucien began to move furniture and pick up paper, he thought back to his own transformation, of the ritual he had undergone. He had no doubt that there were other methods of obtaining vampirism, but his had been more refined that what Leo had been subjected to. He had certainly been a more willing participant than the fledgeling. He had never hungered so much that it hurt, he had drank greedily and deep from the proffered goblets and bottles of sweet crimson, his manners remaining intact, not a drop wasted. Unlike the waste that now stained his floorboards, pieces of broken bottle and glassware landing one by one into a bucket with a twinkle as they hit each other.

Lucien continued with his attempt to restore some semblance of order to his wrecked quarters, keeping an eye and ear out in case any mistook the navigator's now-useless door as an invitation for company.
 


It was not company that Emryk Vakaan sought.

The Baron's presence was not something easily veiled. His form was wide and his steps were loud; and with the door to Lucien's chambers now torn asunder, the faint approach of bootfall would be plenty apparent. Emryk did not find a need to mask the fact he was there; the vampire no doubt possessed senses beyond that of mortal men. Though any man could see the shadow that cast itself along the doorway, blotting out the lantern light from the outside corridor as the Baron's form stopped in the threshold of the chambers.

His jacket was gone; only a white button-down hugged his frame, wrappings wound along the brunt of his hands and wrists. He lingered in the doorway a moment longer before he stepped in, uninvited. He did not look to be his usual self, even with the scarce interactions he'd held with Lucien. The reason would hopefully be apparent to the navigator; if not, that was even further cause to be incensed.

"Why are you still here?"

The question came after another period of silence.

"Humor me, a moment. The old Captain is dead. What keeps you here?" A pause. "Is it her?"

Lucien would know who he meant. The only one he could possibly care about.

 
"You will fill them, in time," she replied with a slight, reassuring smile. She reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Things will look up. I am certain of it."

And she was. Caleb was a smart boy - he'd grow more responsible in time, more knowledgeable and wise. He heeded her word, which was a good enough sign of that wisdom to come. Now all they had to do was weather the storm. Which meant -

"Lucien."

Her face darkened a bit, cold, determined.

"Do you know where he is? I think it would be best to handle this sooner than later. It is ill-thought to let a gaping wound fester."
 
Left alone with a growing blaze and Emryk's words, Alys felt her anger slowly dissipate, thoughts fading away from Naveen, then Lucien. Settling on Leo. She quickly realized that she'd been wringing the partially dried cravat in her hands, leaving red smears and tiny specks of dried blood on her hands. Inhaling sharply, Alys held her breath and swung the door open, tossing the fabric inside before sealing it once more. It wouldn't take long for it to be engulfed, just like the rest of him.

Then, step after step, she walked backwards until her back touched the wall, gaze remaining on the furnace. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Seconds passed, maybe minutes, before she spoke again. "I told Sinead." There they were, the words she'd been too afraid to share back in the Ice Lands. Words she'd promised to share with him later. It was later, and too late. Lucky her. The flame seemed to roar in response, causing the fae to tense. Alys didn't falter though, unabashed. It hadn't been done against Leo, nor in vain. Not yet anyway.

We will do better.

Emryk was right, they would. She would. She'd do better - by doing good, by doing whatever it took. Would Leo have understood that?

She stood a little while longer then left, surefooted up the stairs, towards the top deck. Her hands remained stained, it was nearly noon, and they didn't have a plan. It wouldn't take much to work herself back up again, and perhaps she'd done just that, since she turned the corner and nearly plowed through Emer and Caleb. Steadying herself and gaze levelling, she looked from one to the other, settling on Caleb, ignoring the image of how he'd looked when she'd last saw him. "Are you ready to go?"
 
Rumbling footsteps caught Lucien's ear long before they graced his door. The Baron had a rather distinctive gait that came with someone of his stature, a spring in his step that foretold his annoyingly jovial attitude. There was no such mirth in his stride this day, however, merely a determined trudge of one foot placed in front of the other, of a man who had business to attend to. Considering his soft heart, Lucien was not surprised to learn that he was the business.

Lucien rose to meet his guest, an unshattered bottle and glass perched upon the desk. He uncorked it, letting loose a stream of crimson before closing the bottle, returning it to its place upon the desk. He looked upon the Baron with a steady glance, taking a sip as he mulled over the question that had been posed.

"The Hard Nox is one of the most feared pirate ships known to man or fae." Lucien began, setting his glass down and stepping towards the Al-Ashtavahk. "We never take prisoners, we have slaughtered hundreds, and have feasted upon the livelihoods of countless." Another step, eyes locked.

"Why are you still here? You were rescued from the Truth Teller by chance, and you have made your disdain for our activities quite clear. What keeps you here?" Lucien stepped to the Baron, looking up at the larger figure. Unease rumbled within him, emotions long thought dead and buried, like the man whom the Baron reminded him of. Honor, respect, those empty virtues that were simply used by the weak as excuses for their actions, flimsy parchment shields they thought would protect them. Honor had not kept a dagger from his back, respect had not prevented the blood from tarnishing his medals.

"Is it her?" Lucien echoed, a mirror of the Baron's own question, an answer in and of itself, disdain almost kept in check.
 


"Yes."

His response was immediate; instinctual. He bore no hesitation for truth, as there was no shame in truth to an honest man. "Her. And Juniper. And Alys-- and Caleb. Pris. Ciaran. The rest. Even you." The Baron's snout twitched, perhaps discreetly, perhaps not. His gaze did not stray from Lucien's, the challenge of those predatory eyes answered in kind. He knew better than to turn his back upon a lion.

"And Leo." He spoke, eventually, fists tightening. It helped, perhaps, that he could look down upon the vampire in a literal sense. Perhaps that was what helped him work up the nerve to take a step closer, eyes narrowing.

"The Nox might have slaughtered hundreds. That's true. But for better or for worse, I find myself here. On this ship. Newly chosen as her quartermaster." He let the news fester, a moment, before continuing-- Lucien was hardly bound to care. Yet. "Responsible for her crew. Once a prisoner-- of which you 'do not take'-- now holding a station above yours. And I seem to possess a respect for mortal life that you lack, for whatever reasons pertaining to your no-doubt miserable upbringing." He suppressed the urge to let a scowl come across his face, at that, and held his composure. The Baron's face was ever a rock, unreadable and uncompassionate; for what compassion could he hold, now, across from...

Heart of loam. Hand of stone.

"I came to your quarters to inform you that things are to change, here." He stated, finally. "I know you were the one who killed Leo; it seems you take pride in that fact. I do not. Your shares are docked for your outburst. For one month." He seemed to enjoy a life of luxury, here-- or appeared as such. Whether the gesture would be effective... time would only tell. He wasn't sure of either of them living past this damned conversation. "Longer, if I catch you feeding. And if I catch you killing--"

His hand moved, leveling a finger to jab at the vampire's chest.

"-- like that, again. If I witness you slaughter, or hear of it-- so much as a damned rumor-- so help the earth below that holds your form because I will bury you within it." His finger curled into a fist. Falling back to his side, a steady breath reeling slow from the lungs as his chest fell. He spared a glance to the shelves of shattered bottles and spilled crimson-- his mind falling back to the alleyway, with Naveen. The woman, helpless, as blood oozed from the neck. Him, in the clinic-- necklace about his neck, Emer beneath--

"If you want to be treated like an animal, then I suppose my hand is forced." Emryk spat. His eyes flashed with a potent misery-- mouth curling into a snarl as he leaned down. "If you harm a member of this crew without proper cause again, I will put you down."

 
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"Typical." Lucien sneered. To the Baron's credit, he did not turn his gaze away, instead continuing to meet Lucien's own. "You aristocrats are all the same." He let the Baron's words wash over him before breaking the gaze, turning his back to the larger man and stepping further into his chambers; not a sign of deference, but of confidence. One did not turn their back on a predator unless they were certain they could do so safely. The Baron was no threat to Lucien.

"Take my wages and throw them overboard for all I care." Lucien had returned to his glass, taking another sip and attempting to relish it. His most prized meads had been preserved, tucked away, but what Leo had left was mostly raw, harsh, loud. "My sincerest congratulations on your promotion, do let me know the attire for your preferment dinner." Gods know he had attended far too many in his time, forced to clap as-

No. Do not give that any more thought. Those damnable memories refused to settle back under the surface where they had belonged, ever since the Ice Lands, ever since....

"Would you like to know something, Baron?" Lucien perked up as he went over to his honeycomb of maps, selecting the one he knew was best for the season. She had kept a steady rotation of villages and towns to raid, although it changed every few years. Lucien unrolled the map on the table, using a spare bottle and glass to keep it from curling back up on itself.

"That was the nature of our agreement. I gave the Captain my word that, in exchange for a position on this ship, I would not harm a member of this crew." His eyes scanned the parchment, making notes of the various X's, along with their associated dates. Too little time between raids meant they would not be properly resupplied. Too much and someone else would have gotten there first.

"I kept that agreement, through and beyond her death. O'Cain and I have agreed to keep the previous contract. I may be many things, Baron, but my word is iron." Lucien hissed. He'd found the next place they would have raided, if she had still been here. He doubted O'Cain would want his input. He doubted O'Cain even knew what to do with the Nox now that he had her.

"You are a coward, Baron Emryk." Lucien continued to gaze down at his maps, even as he used the Baron's name for the first time. "You hide behind your honor, your dignity, because you are afraid of what you might do, what you might be accountable for, what they might think of you. Your whole kind are like that." It was clear from his tone that Lucien did not mean the Al-Ashtavahk. He raised his gaze from the maps.

"I do not have such weaknesses." Lucien picked up his glass, watching as the map bounced back. "I am many things, Baron. I am an animal, I am a monster, I am Sinead Oiche's monster. But before you barge into my quarters and accuse me of breaking a vow, perhaps you should ask yourself where your precious captain was during that time." Lucien's voice was rough as he raised the glass to his lips, eyes finding Emryk's once more.

"By my estimate, I would say approximately 5 feet away, watching someone else do what he wished, but was too weak to do himself." Lucien finished his glass.
 
Deep inside, Caleb was disgusted with himself. Big shoes to fill, he’d only said that because he knew Emer would buy it, and of course she did. It was no secret that Caleb despised Sinead, but people would believe whatever they wanted to believe, and Emer had stupid beliefs, like a heart-to-heart with Lucien would change the monster that he was.

“Probably in his room, I haven’t seen him below deck.” Caleb answered, when another person joined them in the hallway, in quite an abrupt manner. He almost smiled at the sight, until Alys reminded him of their next appointment, which he was late to. “Shit.”

“I need to go, we’ll talk to Lucien when I get back.” He said, though he knew that was not gonna happen. Caleb was conflicted for a moment, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the bracelet, not noticing the crumpled up note that fell on the floor in the process. He put it on Emer’s hand. “If you can’t wait, don’t do it alone. Take the baron with you and if you have the chance, put this on his wrist. It’ll keep him in check.” He looked at Alys, who would certainly have questions about what that was and why he hadn’t told her about it. There was a lot he hadn’t told her, but by the state of her hands he figured some of it she’d found out by herself. “I’m ready now.”
 


Emryk's gaze softened at the revelation-- the dagger of Lucien's comment cutting deep. Caleb had been present-- and he'd... sanctioned the killing?

"You..." He flustered, a moment-- trying to bite back his vitriol, but failing nonetheless. Emryk's gaze closed, and he shook his head. No more. No more of this.

"... why. WHY?!" He barked, eyes flaring open; deep-seated rage roiling along the wound that had been drawn. "WHY do you act like this? You could be so much MORE-- your strength, your age, you could learn and teach and HELP-- but you just sit here-- wasting away, PITIFUL." He stepped forward, thundering footfalls carried along the quarters and echoing out into the hall as his hand shot out to grab ahold of the vampire's collar. Tight. Trembling.

"Do you want to know what I think of your Captain, Lucien? I think you were Sinead's pet because you were kindred souls. Little broken things who couldn't fathom the agony of their loss and hid from it. You want to call ME weak? Who had her last moments drowning in a damn LAKE? Who spent her life in a cycle of violence, killing and whoring and stealing and doing NOTHING but causing harm, and for WHAT? To die to her second. What excuse do you have for that, hm?"

His hand shook the vampire once-- or, at the very least, tried to. In his fervor, he was hardly sure if he was holding onto anything, anymore.

"And you. Feeding. Murdering. Sleeping. All you do. All you're known for. You're a so-called scourge, and what do you have to show for it-- broken bottles, spilled blood, and shattered glasses half-filled. That is all you are. Your word is iron, but its shackles are loose. I don't know what Nessa could possibly see in you," Emryk spat, moving to shove the vampire back against the wall of ruined bottles. "But I know there is no greater cowardice than for the powerful to prey upon the weak. Killing. Slaughtering." His snout curled. Leo's death-- sanctioned. How many other bystanders? How many times had history repeated-- how many times had Lucien been allowed bloodlust? How many women in alleyways, how many innocents dead? How many bottles upon the wall had come and gone, consumed and forgotten?

His rage runneth over, heartbeat hammering staccato within the chest. Fear? Certainly. Determination? Undoubtedly.

Hand of stone.

"You're right. I was a coward, for not doing anything." Emryk growled. "NO MORE."

And then he charged forth, before he could regret the act-- dropping into a low tackle to send them both into, and through, the wall of the ship, a bellowing roar filling the air.

 
Juniper had, for all intents and purposes, essentially fallen asleep at their table after Caleb and Emer took their leave. It wasn't a very good nap, only lasting a minute or two, and was still plagued by their waking thoughts in the form of tumultuous, vague dreams of angry shadows and lost dances. They jolted awake, bowl of half finished stew sitting on the table beside where their head had rested, to the sound of shattering wood. It wasn't a sound they were too familiar with, thankfully, but it was alarming to say the least. It came from above, so they gathered their staff and abandoned their meal, heading upwards to investigate.
 
The sight of the bracelet, accompanied with a very vague explanation, did little to settle her growing annoyance. On top of this meeting and his fucking deal with Aamir, Caleb had also failed to inform her of Leo's death - sanctioned by him or not - as well as his plan for Lucien. There had been time for it - she'd made time to discuss important matters, and when it had all been said and done, she'd prolonged the return to her own bed. Like a fucking idiot.

"Oh good. Wouldn't want to be unprepared." she murmured, almost sarcastically, firmly wiping her hands on the inside of her coat. Trying to clean off the bits of Leo that still remained. What a difference a couple hours could make - she'd been sporting gold and priceless jewels not too long ago.

Without another word, she stalked up the stairs, onto the deck and beyond, softly landing on the cobblestones below.
 
With hopes that Emer would follow his advice and not look for Lucien by herself, Caleb followed Alys outside. By the time he caught up to her, landing a few steps behind, he dared to reach for her hand, knowing they were away from the crew’s prying eyes.

“Okay so… What are we gonna tell him?” He asked. There was a lot to be said, and that was the easiest way to start as he had no fucking clue of what to do about Aamir and his request.
 
Too naturally, Alys evaded his reach, swinging her arm with a corresponding step forward. "I don't know, why don't you tell me?"
 
His fingers only brushed hers and she pulled away, making it clear if it wasn’t already that they weren’t on the same footing as they were the previous night. Caleb sighed and walked past her, detracting from the straight line down the main street to the Last Meal and entering a narrow alley.

“Hester enchanted that bracelet for Leo, to keep him under control. I got it back after-” A brief pause. “I was going to tell you, I just didn’t find the right moment.”
 
Cut off by Caleb, Alys begrudgingly followed him into the alleyway. The change in scenery did little to shift the tension - she refused to allow it - though perhaps he'd done it for the sake of privacy. He'd just barely finished speaking when the fae opened her mouth again, filling in the blank. "After Lucien caved Leo's head in?" She sincerely hoped he'd given the order, else they had zero control over the monster that lived among them. "And before I made the time to speak with you about Emryk's promotion?" Or anytime after, when she'd fallen asleep across from him.

"You want to handle things alone? Fine. I'll sit back and clean up the mess when it's over."
 
“If I wanted to handle things alone we wouldn’t even be having this discussion right now!” He burst out, his defensiveness blending with the bottled up anger after his encounter with Juniper. “I just wanted to not have to think about it for a second, is that so fucking bad? It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. Leo is dead, and I’m glad he is. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep last night if he wasn’t.”

It was a true statement, though the sentiment behind it was much more delicate than the harshness of his words. First there was Lucien, then Naveen… He couldn’t handle another one.

“If you wanna be mad at me, fine. Get in line.” He turned his back on Alys, blood boiling in his veins as he resumed his walk to the meeting spot.
 
A discussion - is that what he thought this was, stomping ahead of her, out of the corner he put himself in, like a goddamn child. If he bothered to listen, he'd realize it wasn't about the fact that Leo was dead, but that he hadn't told her. Hadn't told her about that, hadn't told her about this plan for Lucien, or about this thought process behind this meeting. How she looked like an idiot for not knowing, and him like a tyrant who didn't communicate with his second.

There was probably more too, fucking asshole.

"Fine, fuck you," she exclaimed easily, stalking after him, feeling like steam was rising from her skin. Even in the cool, polluted Leimor air. She glared at the back of his head, but said nothing more, walking in silence for a moment.

Then, as they grew closer, she grabbed his wrist to stop and turn him around. Quietly, she hissed, dragging him into a nearby establishment. One selling tailored jackets. Completing ignoring the sales person, she pushed past them to a nearby corner, and began to speak. "I won't allow you to make me look like a fucking fool again. They want something from us. We need to make them believe they have no one else to turn to. That we're the best and only option. Get them on their knees - we can control the negotiation that way." Eyes ablaze, she continued. "They can't know that we've already been fucked by Sol, and that we have something to lose. Or gain." To an extent. She turned his wrist upward, glancing down towards the mark. "If we can't get something now, we get collateral. And if they won't give in, fuck 'em."
 
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