RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Yeah, fuck me Caleb answered in his mind, being caught my surprise when Alys grabbed his arm.

“Wha-” He stopped, letting her take the lead as she began pulling him towards a nearby shop. He nodded at the owner upon his entrance, keeping his back towards them to hide his partner from view.

Caleb listened quietly to Alys’ sensible demands, his anger towards her dissipating at every whispered sentence hissed at him. He smirked.

“Yes ma'am.” He said when she let go of his hand, allowing him to take off his burnt robe and grab a pair of shirt and jacket from the rack. He pulled the shirt over his head and left three silver coins on the counter on their way out, leaning to whisper in Alys' ear when they were standing outside the Last Meal.

“You look very hot when you’re giving me orders.” He said, before pushing the door open.

It seemed a wild party or a fight hand happened sometime between the last time he hand been at the restaurant and now. The curtains were torn apart, there were scratch marks all over the walls and the tables, with the exception of the two in the center of the room, were either broken or turned upside down.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, knowing very well Julian would show up to answer the question.
 
The Boy Captain, indeed, had no idea what was going on. To be fair, neither had Aamir, when he'd first walked into the place. Usually the Last Meal was one of those almost-reputable sorts of places. Not the sort of place you'd take a girl to impress her, but one where you could go with your men and know that what you were eating was at least mostly what you thought it was. Better than many, really - but when he'd gotten here this morning, it looked like the front room of a cheap inn after some minor lord found out you were upstairs with his daughter.

Aamir, regrettably, had only been with his crewmates this morning, who were much less interesting company, at least in that regard. Being used to disarray, he'd found one of the less damaged tables that only needed to be put back right side up, and sent Argent looking for which of the chairs were in the best repair. As such, they had a little table already set up, with space for the Nox's Captain and whichever poor idiot he'd decided to drag to this meeting. Aamir was seated casually, a mug of ale nearly full in front of him - which would have been impressive restraint had it not been his second.

At least they hadn't wrecked the ale. There was no way he was getting through this meeting sober, and he would wager that the rest of them felt the same.

"O'Cain! Grab half a chair and join us!"
 
As Caleb entered the restaurant, a pale shape darted from beneath one overturned table to another, sinuous and lightning quick. It bounded around to hop up onto one of the table's legs - now more perch than stand - then leapt from there to the edge of the table Aamir was seated at. The shape was, of course, a white cat with long, tufted hair.

She was visibly irritated, but she settled down beside the captain of the Cloud Cutter with a stretch and a yawn. Then, glancing sidelong at Aamir with a single eye, she reached out a paw to dip into his ale.

"Mrrrrow."
 
A minor inconvenience presented itself as Winter picked her way through the remnants of what had been either a devastating party or a tragic shakedown for protection money. Still, as long as the kitchen was still providing ale and liquor Winter supposed the meeting would still go well enough, at least until everyone got too drunk and started fighting again anyway. Aamir would want her to kidnap Emer if that happened, and the first time had been enough of a headache already.

She lagged a little behind the two men, careful to not have an unnoticed spike of glass slice its way through the sole of her boot. Aamir was kind enough to ask Argent to scrounge up unbroken chairs, so Winter took her seat and tried to figure out if it smelled like the kitchen was still in a working order or not.

Thankfully Aamir was only one mug deep by the time she heard the voice of the Nox’s captain, and by the sounds of things he was doing his best to live up to Aamir’s boy moniker. It sounded like the oft-irritated Alys was close behind… as well as a cat. Though, the cat might have come from elsewhere in the establishment. A small, amused, smile crossed her lips at the sound of the splash.

“Welcome.” Winter said, her hands resting neatly on the top of her cane. “Kitchen still has ale, though I haven’t heard anything about food yet.”
 
When you spend all of your time in the company of pirates you become accustomed to a certain way of life. A lifetime in such an environment often desensitized one to chaos and to its aftermath. Argent had walked through the doors of more seedy inns and backdoor brothels than he could even recall, and yet walking into the Last Meal had given him pause. It was only a moment of hesitation as he swept his pale gaze over the destruction in the doorway, easily missed as his steps fell back into time with Aamir’s.



The Last Meal had a better reputation, anyone who had lived in Leimor for more than a second knew the place well enough. The upended furniture, ravaged walls and broken tables were certainly not the norm for such a well respected establishment, and Argent’s tongue clicked softly as he set about Aamir’s order wordlessly. One was promptly given to his captain, who set about a mug of ale as if the matter of a seat were secondary. Knowing Aamir it probably was more important to drink than to sit.



Another stool was provided to Winter, quietly offered with a soft pat upon the seat that Argent was certain she could hear. As he sifted through the wreckage Argent took the broken tables and seats and shifted them away from the center of the room, clearing space around Aamir’s table. Some of the wood fed the fire that burned low in the hearth while the rest was piled high. The Nox’s captain was running predictably late, and by the time he arrived Aamir had already grabbed a second mug, while Argent stood off and to his side with that same silence.



Boy Captain.



At first blush Argent might have been offended, if only for the closeness he and the Deadshot seemed to share in their age. Whatever similarities they might have had, however, ended there, and Argent found himself instantly agreeing with his captain’s assessment. The Nox’s head sauntered in like a ruffled chicken, followed by an attractive woman with a dark expression. His second, if Argent were to guess, and the one who had put a bullet in Sky’s leg. Depending upon how the meeting went Argent considered thanking the blue-winged woman.



”Maybe we shouldn’t encourage them to drink, Winter.” Argent spoke low, a whisper that would normally go unnoticed. Pirates tended to live up to their reputations more when they were in their cups, and Argent wasn’t keen on being on the business end of the Nox’s rumors. He hooked a thumb through his belt in a mimicry of when he had been asked to come along, though his pistol and a cutlass pressed against his side this time.
 

The Last Meal was on its last legs, it seemed, and it was a crime indeed. Torn tapestry lined the walls of the restaurant, the earthen tones muddied with a mixture of dust, shattered wood, and darkened patches of what appeared to be dried blood splattered amongst particularly savage strikes along the wall; deepened grooves of clawmarks ran frantically along the far side of the Last Meal, towards the kitchen-- which had been in a similarly ruined state before Julian had arranged the remnants of his livelihood. Now, in the dilapidated function room, two tables sat joined together by a few chairs; nobody had touched the place since he'd found it in the morning, but he had opened regardless.

The snooping of the blind woman of his current guests hadn't gone unnoticed, either, and paranoia kept a cleaver close at hand. She'd be able to smell the food cooking and fuck off before she got any ideas, hopefully. And, to make matters worse, they were waiting for O'Cain. Julian was not within the dining room proper, but was predictably within the kitchen

"FUCKING-- DAMN IT! THIS FUCKING CITY--"

There was a crash of pots, and then silence. A few moments later, Julian pushed through the door of the city, a platter in hand. A roast; the only one that hadn't been thrashed to shreds. Served alongside a set of grits, and various assorted vegetables that he'd been able to recover. Julian approached the table with the strained smile of a man who was quite literally barely holding it together, the platter delicately placed upon the table as he looked from Aamir to Caleb.

"Just another day in Leimor. What can I say?" He said through clenched teeth, rolling his shoulders and wincing from the pain. Bandages lined his arm all the way up to the neck; his lip was split, eye bruised but thankfully largely unswollen. Fingertips tapped along the table as he gestured to the platter for the group to eat.

"Enjoy. The literal Last Meal. Might I humbly request for the gentlemen to tip generously." And then he turned, throwing an arm over his head and stalking back to the kitchen. "Or don't."

 
The place wasn’t the only thing looking like shit, Caleb noticed, when Julian stepped out of the kitchen looking like he'd fought the beast on his silver plate. Aamir was there with the stinky cat and two of his people, the blind woman who had kidnapped Emer and a white haired fellow who might as well be the shapeshifter. If it was, he was brave to face Alys after what she’d done to him the night before.

“I don’t tip, but yesterday's offer still stands. And bring two more cups of ale!” Caleb said loudly as the man left the room. “What’ you whispering over there?” Caleb asked the white haired man on his way to the table, keeping in mind what Alys had said and making sure his long sleeves covered the mark on the back of his right hand.
 
The proprietor of the restaurant appeared, as disheveled as the Last Meal though the food was tantalizing despite the state of his business. His own displeasure greatly out shadowed Argent’s generally dour expression, but his service was at least appreciated by the former local. Argent had never had a chance to dine at the famous eatery.



He slid two gold coins onto the remnants of the counter, stepping up to the table and inhaling the succulent scent of the roast they had been presented. The herbs that had been cooked with the meat gave it an almost sweetened nose, and Argent’s mouth almost visibly watered as he eyed a particular cut. Meat was always a luxury on a small ship like the Cloud Cutter.



The Boy Captain spoke, directly to Argent and the meat was temporarily forgotten. An ice cold gaze swept over Caleb, dismissively as it settled upon Alys. ”I hear you’re the one we have to thank for the mewling changeling on our ship.” A simple deduction, one that ignored her Captain completely.



Argent was slow to speak, particularly with strangers, so his following comment came after a considerable pause. ”Would you say he deserved it, or were you as deep in your drinks as the rest of your crew supposedly were?” A gentle reminder of how the last drinking party between the crews had turned out. Aamir was a lost cause, and probably better with a drink in his hand. O’Cain seemed like the type that would only get worse under intoxication.
 
“The stone doesn’t travel against the river, Argent.” Winter said, amused by the swordsman’s not so subtle attempt to keep this a sober affair. If he could manage such a feat, then she would applaud his efforts, but until then an effort was all it was. She turned her head towards O’Cain as he inquired about the whispering, a flash of a smile on her lips.

“Oh, our dear Argent is concerned that if we all give in to the vice of drink that we will all attempt to stick one another with the various sharp implements we have at hand. Not a wholly unfounded fear I’m afraid, if recent history is anything to go by.” As Winter spoke she picked up a knife and balanced it along her finger. “Now, which cuts does everyone prefer? Best to not let this meal go to waste.”

A bite or two of food would help slow the alcohol some, after all.
 
For half a moment, Alys was inclined to believe that he'd actually found value in what she'd said, choosing to overlook the smug smirk plastered on his face and the slightly condescending response. She held no hope for an apology - she wasn't completely deluded - but perhaps he'd listened. Then, of course, just before entering the establishment, Caleb had to open his big mouth.

And while he brushed past her, opening the door and announcing his presence to those who sat within, Alys lingered half a second behind, temporarily frozen, inhaling deeply to try to keep the anger at bay. To hide the flash of hurt behind her eyes as she remembered yesterday's doubts about his intentions, and this mornings whispers that she was deserving. How could she be deserving when that's what he focused on? Burying that deep within, she stepped through the door, expression remaining dark until she found a seat at the table.

Her gaze flickered over the Cloud Cutter crew; primarily over it's supposed Captain - the peacock man, the blind woman she'd seen far too many times within the last twenty-four hours, and the light-haired newcomer. None of them were sickly or appeared to be fighting a fever, meaning that someone had enough brains to keep Sky away.

More than he could realize, the light-haired man brought Alys great joy when he chose to ignore Caleb and turned to her instead. She allowed the corners of her lips to tilt upward. "If we're thinking about the same changeling, I think we both know the answer to that." Leaning back in her chair, perching her forearm against the seat rail, the fae continued. "Though if I had known I'd be doing you such a big favour, I would've charged you." She paused, smile widening. "How 'bout this? You pay for my ale and we'll call it even?"
 
Lucien smirked, malicious glee crinkling his eyes at the Baron's outburst. He did so love to pick at the cracks within his self-righteous facade, and indeed it looked as though Lucien had finally broken it. The Baron roared, demanding answers to questions he did not deserve to ask, let alone have answered.

The smirk remained as the Baron marched closer, steps a war drum as his scaled fist tangled in Lucien's collar. His eyes were no longer crinkled, the mirth now gone as he analyzed, waited, watched. His expression defiantly remained unchanged, even in the face of a roaring, angry Al-Ashtavahk, a position that would have many men weak at the knees. Lucien cared not the questions that were thrown at him, asking why he did this and how he was a poor soul who could not escape his trauma.

Then he spoke again, and Lucien's expression dropped into neutrality.

The roaring faded into the background, Lucien's presence falling back onto himself. He processed what the Baron said, even as he was being shaken and shoved. She had not fallen in battle with King, as he had thought. She had not been defiant until the end, spitting in his face as she was struck down. She had been stabbed in the back.

By the man who now called himself Captain.

By Caleb O'-fucking Cain.

Lucien's expression stayed flat, but rage and anger swelled in his heart. The glass shattered in his grip, the shards digging into his flesh unnoticed. He was brought back to focus by the sudden absence of the Baron's pressuring presence. Lucien regained himself only to see the Al-Ashtavahk charging at him. His movements felt dull, slowed, and even as he moved to slip out of the way, he felt the muscled arms wrap around him, the full weight of the Baron slamming into Lucien as he sent the two hurtling forward.

Wood splintered and cracked, spraying out across the docks as Emryk launched them both through the wall of the ship and onto the docks on the other side. Lucien hit the ground with a snarl, anger filling him once more. He would have several words with Caleb O'Cain once this was over, but for now Emryk would do.

Lucien wriggled out of his grasp, slipping to his feet before the larger man could manage to. He lashed out with a boot, aiming to strike at the Baron's stomach.

"I was wasting away!" He roared, striking again at whatever soft part he could find on the scaled quartermaster. "She gave me purpose! She showed me that I could be more! You do not deserve to speak of her!" Lucien punctuated his words with strikes, fangs fully bared as he lashed out at the Baron. He would kill this man, or die trying.
 
The letter was finished, yet Nessa found herself simply staring at it in the light that squeezed through the narrow windows of the bunk. It was a strange thing, wasn’t it? Looking at her thoughts put to parchment almost seemed to have made them meaner, somehow mocking her indecision because they already knew the answer that she didn’t want. Perhaps that’s why she kept running her eye along the lines, first to check her grammar and again and again and — to think. Yume watched from her place on the hammock over Nessa’s bed, at first the bat had chattered with the expectation of a flight, but now she watched Nessa.

The young vampire stood, she reached out to pet her bat and Yume licked the tips of her fingers. Then, leaving her writing where it lay, she stepped out of the bunk. The ship felt quieter as she made her way up to the deck, though she was soon aware of the sound of loud voices though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then, as if to prove her wrong about the stillness she felt, there was a heavy crash of wood. With a curse, Nessa sprinted the rest of the way up to the deck. She caught sight of Juniper in the glare of light, and headed the way they were.

It wasn’t hard to see the two idiots brawling down on the dock, and Nessa found herself baring her fangs as she watched them.

“Ship full of goddesss fucking children.” She spat. Her gaze turned to Juniper as she placed a leg over the railing of the Nox. “I’m going to see about stopping them before the fucking harbormaster gets involved. Would you please set them on fire for me if they don’t listen?” She asked, before slipping over the edge.
 


Open air. Falling. Emryk's gut turned over itself as gravity sent the pair plummeting towards the earth, falling a good 50 or so feet and slamming into hardened stone.

There was a sharp pain-- quick, resounding-- that accompanied the impact, spreading along Emryk's entire side as he felt his ears ring and his vision swim. It took him a moment to realize that they were no longer on the Nox, but on the Leimor docks proper-- an isolated outcrop, notably absent of the bustling crowds that frequented the more populated portions, but solid earth nonetheless. How far had they fallen? It was hard to think, for a moment, and the Baron rolled to his side before making his way to both knees, a harsh rasp falling from his lungs as he struggled to orient himself.

Lucien, unfortunately, was quicker. The boot that had crushed Leo's skull now found his gut, sending him back onto his side and fully pushing the air from his lungs.

"RRRRGH." He gasped, eyes shooting wide-- arms immediately positioning themselves to guard his face and chest, body curling in on itself as Lucien descended upon him. Instinctual conditioning to protect himself; he'd been kicked while downed before. Thoughts harkened back to the pit-- muscle memory guiding survival mechanisms nearly forgotten. Claws raked at his cheek, his forearms, clipping scale and slashing deep into flesh; bronze-tinged crimson flowed from the deep wounds as he fought to regain his breath, the moments of defenseless panic seeming like an eternity to a mind that thought it was about to die.

"Hnnnnrghh-- hnnnh." Another rough claw to his side; scales chipped and fell upon the dockside. He was going to die if he didn't act. Move. Biding his time, he waited-- watching, snout curling into a grimace as he took the blows--

"NNNRRHH-- !"

-- a sharp exhale of regained breath punctuated a parried swipe, his left arm pushing out into Lucien's hand to knock it away as his other pushed off the ground, sending him up and into the vampire with a shoulder-check. By the time his scaled hide sought to slam into his opponent's chest, his left hand had already curled into a fist-- its target clear as he swung a punch towards Lucien's face, aiming to hit him square in the jaw. Momentum followed into a right uppercut into the stomach, aiming to disable before he tried to wrap a scaled mitt about the vampire's neck. His other fist was a veritablen piston-- cocked back and fired at every available opportunity, aiming to strike again and again and again at the face, chest, and side.

"This is your purpose?" He growled, voice rasped. What traces of civility he held were now abandoned, the circumstances of his survival prompting guttural words of hate. "More than what? A pathetic leech serving a scoundrel WHORE?" Blood-stained fists sought purchase wherever they could find it. A strike to his kidneys, to his liver, trying to land a blow that could send him crashing down to the stone-- scales ripped away, dark gashes gathered as the pain drove him further. "Want to silence me? DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, YOU BASTARD! FIGHT SOMEONE WHO CAN ANSWER BACK, FOR ONCE IN YOUR MISERABLE DAMNED LIFE!"

 
"Ooh, I like her." At the gala, Aamir had thought she was pretty, in that dolled-up sort of way. Today, though, she was feisty. "Hey, Winter, let's kidnap this one next. We'll give her the position of telling Sky when he's being an idiot, that'll save me all kinds of time." He waved a hand at the grumpy proprietor that he'd cover the ale - for both her and the Boy Captain, since he was feeling magnanimous. At least, he'd cover this round. Rumor had it that the Nox had scored pretty big recently, which meant they could probably spot their own on subsequent rounds.

"So!" He cheerfully addressed the Boy Captain while Argent and Winter, presumably, addressed the division of the roast. "What's all this about?"
 
Argent didn’t answer him, but the woman by his side did. Caleb had no reason to trust her, or any of them for that matter, but he would much rather have a rational conversation than go through another brawl again.

“Recent history shall not repeat itself, at least not without incentive.” He said. “And as much as I can vouch for Julian’s cooking, I’m only here for the liquor and to know what your captain wants from Solomon King and his graveyard ship.”

Caleb wasn’t the jealous type, but Aamir's joke about a second kidnap didn’t sound funny to him. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair, choosing to take it lightly.

"Why don’t you explain what it is that you want from us, and stop the whole kidnapping schtick?”
 
If there had been any question on if the day could get any worse, it was answered as Juniper made it to the rail of the ship. Below, on the dock, were two people locked in what seemed to be pretty serious combat with one another. It was frankly impressive that the two were still fighting, given the distance they'd fallen presumably out the side of the ship, but once they had time to process who it was, it wasn't as surprising anymore.

What was surprising was that a fight was happening at all. Emryk and Lucien were, for all intents and purposes, trying to kill each other.

"Gods... FUCK! WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?"

Shortly after their (rather shrill) shriek, they were joined by Nessa. "Please do! This is ridiculous!" the sorceress said in response, hoping to the heavens that she would be able to talk some sense into them. If it truly did come down to it, they would rather not have to get involved, given how the morning had gone.
 
It'd been a decent night for a bit of fresh air.

Well. 'Fresh.' Lower quarter fresh. Fish, shit and offal in relatively short supply. The best you'd get without the charms the upper city townhouses built into their walls. Still. Decent. Sort of nostalgic.

So the ship necromancer had been up on deck for a while, resting against the mast. Most of her attention was focused on overseeing her constructs as they scuttled across the ship. Very normal day. Up until something huge and very obviously wooden exploded.

Well. That was, you know. Never, like, an ideal thing to hear aboard an airship.

In an ideal world, Hester would have been able to just carry on what she was doing and let that whole mess sort itself out, but now Nessa and Juniper were up on deck, shouting about it. Which made sloth a little harder to indulge in.

"Do you think we could get away with just taking the ship away, now?" she asked, pushing herself up to her feet and wandering over to the other two.
 
"Sky bless -"

Emer rushed to the edge of the ship beside Juniper and Hester as Nessa stepped over, her hands wrapping around the banister hard enough to leave her knuckles bloodless.

"What is - is that -"

What had even happened? Why would this have happened? The Baron could have a hot head, but he was hardly one to start a brawl, and Lucien - well. It was obvious there, was it not? After Leo. The bracelet weighed heavy in her pocket.

"I am going after them. Nessa is not - I have something. To stop Lucien," she said, her voice hollow. And then she stepped over as well.
 
Argent’s head dipped slightly at the woman’s response, and though he did not smile there was a slight creasing around his eyes. His attention turned briefly to Winter, though he didn’t speak. His own knife sprang to his palm, and the piece of the juicy roast he had spied was cut free with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist. He wasn’t exactly sure how Winter had intended to cut specific portions for the others, but he felt it a safer gamble to snatch his own.



Aamir grinned enough for the both of them, cheerful and glib as always. They shared an assessment of the Nox’s second, it seemed, and with a gesture his Captain assumed the Cutter’s debt and ordered a round. Argent wasn’t entirely sure he agreed that shooting Sky had been a favor to them, satisfying as the jokes might be down the line. He was just as likely to become that much more insufferable for it.



”If she aims higher next time she could just replace him.” Argent delivered the response to Aamir’s second kidnapping suggestion flatly, seemingly occupied with choosing grits and vegetables from the table. It was only with the Boy Captain’s response that Argent lifted eyes from the meal.



”Do you not communicate with your crew, O’Cain? We already told your medic.” A quick glance to Aamir. This wasn’t exactly what he had been asked to come for, but he knew Aamir could beat around the bush all day with his silly grin. ”It seems like stealing your people away might be a boon. I certainly wouldn’t want to serve a Captain who doesn’t listen.”



Before turning his attention back to his bowl Argent glanced back to Alys. After taking another quick bite he added, ”Are you really the one in charge?”
 
It was slightly amusing, mostly tiresome; listening to the plotting of her own kidnap, as if she wasn't sitting right in front of them. It was a joke, of course, and while she waited for it to end, she complimented Aamir's laughter with nothing more than a small smile. Should she consider this as a second job offer? How fortunate, for her, that this one was given right in front of her current Captain, who'd recently forgotten just how valuable she could be.

That small smile bloomed with the light-haired man's final question. She found herself lazily turning her head to look at Caleb and smiling; not to rub it in - though she did think about it - but rather, as if they shared an inside joke and the other man was the butt of it.

Looking back at the man, she answered. "Careful, Sky had a big mouth too. Where was it that you wanted it? A little bit higher?" Alys tilted her head and lifted her dinner knife, pointing it towards Argent's chest, marking a little x in the air. A joke, of course - his Captain seemed to like those.

Then she stood abruptly, placing one hand on the table while reaching over to stab at a chunk of meat. The blind woman had been right - best not let the meal go to waste. After all, ale on a nearly empty stomach was not the best idea. Even if said stomach continued to churn, thinking about what her hands had recently handled.

"How exhausting this must be for you," she told Winter. "Can't keep anyone with worth on the crew so you're tasked to kidnap them. You must be paid well. Cutter's standards - of course."

With her plate filled, Alys once more took a seat. "Our dear wise woman was under duress, having been taken against her will. You understand. So, let's try this again and answer my Captain's question."
 
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