RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

“That so?” Nessa said, watching as Caleb was taken into the clinic. The mark on his wrist was… new, wasn’t it? When was the last time she had seen his wrist? The thought made her nose prickle with a memory, Emmer standing over a bloodied slab, Caleb dumped into a cot… Nessa took Lucien’s flask from her hip and took a shallow sip before turning her gaze to Summer.

“Didn’t have it back at Fen Manor, know that much. Though, he didn’t stop wearing long sleeves once we got out of the ice lands.” Nessa tapped the heel of her boot against the deck as she trailed off.
 
“You were at the ice lands?” Summer asked, but she had the feeling there wasn’t a lot more information she was gonna get, as Pris and Alys seemed to be done with their secret conversation and were making their way back to the clinic.

“Do you need me to slap him awake?” She asked Emer, watching her mix whatever it was she was mixing. It was interesting to watch her at work, doing something she’d probably done a million times. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
 
Lucien ignored the fairy’s blatant lie that nothing was wrong with their beloved captain. A new recruit that Lucien had not met before assisted with moving him to the clinic, which was just as well. The vampire had no intention of assisting, although he did follow along, curious as to what ailment would cause such a reaction. His eyes brushed along the limp form of O’Cain’s body and spotted a rather unique mark on his arm. As much as Lucien hated the boy, he assumed that he had a modicum of taste.

Lucien entered the clinic with the rest, making note of a small voice mentioning ‘Mr. King’ before the rest was tuned out by the new crewmate running her mouth. He had a hunch that the sigil was from King, perhaps some part of the “deal” O’Cain claimed to have made. He was going to wring every last detail from the fairy once he knew the limitations that had been imposed. And if he could overcome them.

Until then, Lucien would simply have to entertain himself in other ways. He approached soundlessly and clapped a hand down on the new recruit’s shoulder, refraining from digging his claws into her skin.

“As much as I would enjoy that, I believe the wisewoman would give you a stern talking to if you did so.” Lucien smirked as she turned to look at him. “If you’re looking for something to do, you can come with me abovedeck. I do not believe I have had the pleasure of testing your skills with a blade.” He let his grip fall, instead letting his hand rest upon the hilt of his blunted rapier.

“Do not make me bring you up by force.” Lucien said before turning on his heel and exiting, the smirk flashing into something more akin to a grin.
 


The Baron had little time for artistic pursuits, nowadays, with his added duties as quartermaster of the Hard Nox; it was why he held a ledger, not his diary, in a scaled palm. His brow was furrowed, spectacles perched upon his snout as he double-checked the allotted shares for the Nox's crew; the unfamiliar voice stirred him from his analysis. He looked to the man with a bit of an unreadable stare, gaze still narrowed somewhat as he looked Argent up and down. Yes, Argent. That was his name. Emryk had gone asking about when he heard one of his crewmen had been threatened with a gun from a newcomer.

"Mm." He stated, curtly. "Quartermaster Vakaan will do. You're from the Cloud Cutter." The same vessel that kidnapped Emer. He let that statement lay implied, not explicit, as took his spectacles from his snout and folded them back into his shirt pocket. "Can I help you with something? If you require any equipment from the Nox, I'm afraid it will be out of pocket." One hand rested upon his knee, tapping a finger idly. "Wholesale."

 
The pair arrived at the clinic just as the beast began to leave. Alys stepped aside, more than happy to let him pass. And somehow, with pure, dumb luck, realized that Summer had been invited to spar. Raising a brow, she peered inside and stated, "Mustn't keep him waiting."

Once the two had left, Alys lingered by the door, waiting on Pris - and Nessa, if she so chose - to enter the clinic. She had nothing to hide, not really, from Nessa. It might do them some good anyways, to build more trust with the young vampire. If there was ever one on board to trust and depend on, it'd be her. If her appetite remained under control.

"The mark appeared in the Ice Lands, after he..." She trailed off, hesitant to speak the words. For Emer's sake, and for their own. Better to let them make their own interpretations, making it less likely to come back to her. "That's what he told me."

She looked at Pris and gave her a slight, encouraging nod, though her expression remained grave.
 
Summer was pretty confident in her skills with a sword in a normal setting, but with a foot missing and against a vampire who she’s heard terrible things about, not so much. Despite the fear in her gut, she reminded herself of the bracelet given by the captain, that was supposed to prevent him from harming others. He wouldn’t risk it all on a lil’ old nobody, would he?

“If that’s your way of asking a girl out, you should know I’m not interested.” She said behind Lucien’s back, after picking up a sword along the way. That was a common ground of every pirate ship she’s ever been in; they were never short of weapons just lying around.
 
It seemed like a lot had happened at the Ice Lands. Well, Pris had already known that, since somehow they had ended up with Naveen for a while. She was very much relieved that he was not here any more - although, she did have to wonder if that had something to do with why Mr. O'Cain was... being encouraged. She wasn't actually sure if the mark meant Mr. King was doing something about it on purpose himself, or if it was just something that he set up and then it worked on its own after a while.

She did her best to explain it like she had to Alys - who the mark represented, and what Mr. King used them for, and what might happen next, though she wasn't very sure about all the possibilities. She made sure to add in the idea that maybe Mr. King was doing something about it if he was getting impatient, or maybe it was just something that happened on its own.

"Sorry." She looked up to Alys, then back to the rest of the group. "I don't know everything about it, and... I don't think I know how to do anything about it, either. I'm not nearly as good at any of this as Mr. King is."
 
"And if that is your way of seeking compliments, I can understand why you chose to pursue piracy instead of prostitution." Lucien threw back over his shoulder. "If it puts your mind at ease, know that there is nothing you have that I could ever possibly want." Not even the blood that coursed through her veins held any interest for the vampire. He had found that, regardless of whether or not the external substance made contact with the veins, the blood of someone with a severe injury always tasted off. Either that, or it adopted the taste of any prostheses or replacements the person may have acquired.

Lucien turned to face his opponent, drawing his blunted rapier with a flourish and dragging it along his hand, proving the edge was duller than this member of the crew was turning out to be. He had not asked her name, nor did he care, truth be told. Lucien took up a relaxed stance that could charitably be called a defense.

"Attack me. I will not draw blood, I assure you." He called to her. Bruises and broken bones, on the other hand, were still on the table.
 
The Quartermaster was unusually surly, if the men’s accounts were any gauge. It wasn’t hard to get a crew to speak about their officers, and the scuttlebutt was that the Baron was quite taken with the wisewoman. Argent had thought the connection would be handy, though with hindsight the exchanged looks between the two during the meeting, as well as the Quartermaster’s drunkenness at the time, spoke of turmoil.



”I wasn’t actually a part of that,” Argent said in defense to the unspoken. ”But it’s a part of why I am approaching you, Quartermaster Vakaan.” That was a bit of a mouthful if he were being honest, though it was safe to assume they wouldn’t reach a first name basis anytime soon.



Argent took a moment to look over his shoulder as bodies scrambled to and from the clinic below. It seemed the Captain was unwell, if Argent were to guess by the wings and the second’s distraught face. Given O’Cain was in the good hands of the ship’s medic Argent let the chaos below wash beneath him.



”Aamir thinks she holds some wisewoman story with the key to killing King. Personally I prefer asking questions over kidnapping and what have you.” Just as Argent was about to turn his attention to the Quartermaster a figure stepped out onto the deck proper, blunted steel in hand that had been bemoaned for days by the men who had felt it.



Argent turned fully to observe the vampire’s opponent, a quirk of a grin at the corner of his lips when he saw that Summer had drawn the unlucky lot. Though it meant his own lashing was likely on the way Argent couldn’t help but find it a small bit earned by the hobbled elf who had done little since boarding.



”To show that I am asking in good faith I was hoping to have someone she trusts, like one of your officers, accompany me as I ask after this story.”
 


Emryk grunted at Argent's words, rubbing at the bridge of his snout a moment as he gave a sigh; the sounds of commotion drew his attention, momentarily, but there was little he could do in the clinic. Too many bodies about for someone as large as he.

"Right." Skepticism was evident in his tone. He gave another breath. "How lucky we are for your Captain to send the one man who doesn't represent his interests, then." His tone was flat as he looked to the man once more, shutting the ledger and tucking that into the satchel about his hip. The charcoal stub was wrapped and tucked alongside it. He opened his mouth to speak-- only to see Lucien walk topside with a new face. Shades of the archer girl beckoned at the shadows of his mind, and his snout became a knurled, nasty thing.

"One moment."

He stood, moving to the edge of the upper deck-- pausing upon the stair, and looking down upon the sparring pair.

"The harm you bring to her I will repay tenfold, Kilta." Emryk barked, gaze narrowed. He let that promise lay, and turned back to Argent, tiredness showing at the fringes of his gaze a moment as he debated the man's words.

"... fine. I imagine she's busy with whatever mess is happening below, now. Ciaran or I shall accompany you when the time is right."

Mm. Joy. Perhaps she'd had time to ruminate upon his ultimatum to her.

 
The blade twirled on Summer’s hand, as she tested out it’s weight and considered the best way to deal with the situation. The vampire didn’t seem interested in nothing but to end his own boredom, and she couldn’t blame him; she had been in a similar position not long ago, until something interesting finally happened in that godforsaken ship. Unfortunarely, until she earned some small part of Alys’ trust, which she knew it was hard to come by, she’d likely be kept outside of it, like she found herself now.

“You can’t actually hurt me, can you? Isn’t that what the captain said, when he put that thing on you?” She asked casually, getting a boost of confidence upon hearing that the quartermaster had eyes on them, and no interest in losing more of his crew. “I got the impression he two of you don’t get along very much. Does it have to do with the late captain?” She took a quick step forward, swinging her blade to meet his. If it was entertainment he was after, that she could provide. But she’d have to get something in return.
 
That was…



Surprisingly easy. Argent stood in shock for a moment, blank expression more fitting than usual as the wind passed between them. When word of a man’s virtue is spread around a ship full of pirates it automatically comes into question, but Argent found himself nearly ready to hug the Quartermaster for his acquiescence. To offer the only other officer spoken of as highly, the Master Gunner Argent had yet to meet, was icing on top of a fairly generous cake.



Sobering a bit from the unexpected victory, Argent hissed through his teeth and winced slightly as Summer charged in, blade twirling. It wasn’t that she didn’t appear to have her own level of skill; Argent was actually a bit surprised by how well she handled the sword. He wouldn’t count his bets even if Winter were the one facing the vampire. In spite of the Quartermaster’s warning hanging over the match Argent felt sure a painful lesson was in store for the elven woman.



”I will need some paper, as well.” Argent returned his attention, if not his gaze, to mountain of scales next to him. ”Perhaps a small discount in light of our alliance?”
 
Hearing the information for a second time wasn't any easier, not when his unconscious body laid half a step away. Alys found a small stool to perch on, silently wishing she'd had a hot cup of chamomile tea cradled in her hands, or perhaps something a little stronger, though she doubted Emer kept a healthy supply of the latter.

"Have you seen King give someone the mark? Or take it away?"
 


Emryk watched the duel with a lack of interest. The woman was a newcomer; with any luck, Lucien would withhold his usual murderous intent, though it would be on behalf of the artifact upon his wrist. Time would tell if the dog snapped free from its leash.

"We have no alliance." Emryk stated, looking to Argent with a leveled stare. "I will treat you as I treat anyone else who has yet to earn my trust. If you cause no trouble," He stated, raising an eyebrow, "There will be no trouble. I have far more pressing matters than devoting paranoia to a guest skulking about. You'll pay for the paper wholesale; not even the crew gets a discount."

His tone was particularly dry, at that remark. Emryk looked back to the deck, staring off into space for a moment. "But if you're truly stripped of coin... well, you could start by mopping the deck. People earn their keep, here."

He stood, at that, and moved towards the officer's hall. "Our last worker was particularly thorough; you've big shoes to fill. Get to it, and we'll see about getting you an inkwell, even."

 
Pris shook her head. "No, Miss Alys. I don't know how it gets there or... if there's a way to get rid of it. That part was always a secret. I suppose we could ask him when we see him again..." A thought, passing by: "Or... maybe that's not such a good idea."

He probably wouldn't like that. Mr. King had always been very good about teaching her what he wanted her to learn, but he was also very secretive about the things that he knew and no one else did. She supposed if you were as old as he was, you had figured out some things no one else had, and maybe he just wanted to feel like he was special about it.

She didn't really want to talk to him about it, though - especially because if Naveen wasn't here, he was certainly there, and him she didn't want to talk to at all.
 
“A mark from King. Nessa said, her lips bending into a slight frown as she lingered by the clinic door. She had no aims at entry, scarcely any good would come of that even if Caleb wasn’t donating his blood to the floor again. Lucien pulled the pervert woman away to spar, which Nessa appreciated. Hard to say if either of them would get what they needed out of that, but maybe Lucien would look less like a caged animal probing his bars after letting some stress off.

Doubtful that really.

Nessa poked her head into the clinic, her gaze falling onto Pris. She was easily the most knowledgeable about this out of their lot, so she was the one worth asking. “If it’s a curse, is there a way to break it?” Nessa’s fingers touched the patch of still pale skin where the ring had sat, fat and happy as she spoke. “And if not that, anything we can make for the symptoms? I can go talk to Emryk about setting money aside for ingredients.” She offered up, with a shrug of her shoulder.
 
"I believe his words were 'if any more blood was spilled by my hands'." Lucien flashed a cold smile at the woman, all fangs and hunger, like a cat who did not need to eat but found amusement in batting around a mouse. He felt the lizard's gaze boring into him, but fortunately for the Baron, Lucien had no intention of killing this one. He merely had to vent some frustration.

Lucien knocked her blade aside with a sneer. If she intended to get a rise out of him, she was going to have to do a lot better than that. "I suppose you could say that." He lashed out with a lazy jab, forcing his hand to move slower than he would prefer. "Truth be told, I believe our animosity stems from that timeless of disputes: a girl." Lucien let out a sigh before twisting and swinging his blade towards the girl's head, much faster than the strike he'd just made. This blade was unbalanced, unwieldy in his left hand, but he would make it work for dueling purposes.
 
As Emryk made his position clear a pale gaze met his fierce gold stare evenly, broken away from the spectacle below by the hardness of the Quartermaster’s tone. Argent gave a small nod in response, an acquiescence to the lizard-man’s logic as well as the offer. He had spent the past ten days on such labors, familiar tasks he didn’t balk at accomplishing on any ship.



”Leo.”



Argent spoke the name, one he had learned rather easily with questions after the fight between the Navigator and the Baron. He wasn’t particularly interested in filling shoes on the Nox; that seemed more Summer’s position than his own. Emryk might have exaggerated the size of those particular shoes were it not on the matter of cleaning. A comment on the boy he had found noteworthy claimed him to be “the best smelling wild man I ever seen.”



He hadn’t wasted the space on his scrap of paper littered with crossed out names on the crewmate that had earned Lucien his little trinket, but decided to do so with the Quartermaster’s praise. After he earned his paper, of course. The graphite he had marked his own piece was enough to get him by; something told him he wouldn’t meet the standard left behind to earn the inkwell anyway.



”I will find you when I am finished.” Seeing little reason to linger with their positions clear, Argent gave a second nod to the Baron before walking away, eyes wandering back to the deck he was to mop currently being used as a training ground. More delay to his purpose, aside from the labors since boarding. A small, barely audible sigh was released to the wind as he descended the forecastle stairs with eyes peeled for a mop.
 
As expected, her opponent was a lot faster and a lot stronger than she was, especially in that body. His first strike met her blade and the second, had she not tripped on her own feet and fell, would have drawn blood for sure.

“I thought you weren’t into that.” Summer muttered, aiming a low kick at his ankle to try and get him down to her level, before pulling herself up.

“So you killed her?” The question didn’t need an answer, it was an easy guess based on what she’d learned about Lucien so far. Part of her felt a bit sorry for the captain. She also understood why his relationship with the first mate was just rumored to be more than just professional. “She mustn’t have been that special if he still lets you stay here.”

Summer attacked him again, aiming for his gut. Close to the main mast, she knew where to hide behind when the counter attack inevitably came her way.

***

Caleb opened his eye and moved his right hand towards it, as if to check it was still there. There was a ceiling above him, which wasn’t expected considering he had been outside just a second ago. Had he been out for longer than a second? Confused, he looked to his side to find himself at the clinic, with three and a half women in it. He had no words to say, still trying to decipher what was real and what wasn’t. The pain was real, he knew that much, but thankfully, it was no longer there.
 
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"There has to be," Alys responded quietly, glancing from Pris to Nessa, who'd offered a hypothetical solution. A hypothetical, temporary solution. Until they found a way to break the curse, or better yet, a way to kill King, they'd need to use whatever temporary solutions they could find. She hoped that Emer had some ideas, even if that meant force-feeding Caleb the foulest of concoctions. As long as they didn't include opioids - their last Captain had depended far too heavily on them.

"If you don't mind-," she began, giving Nessa the slightest of nods. "We'll be stopping to re-stock our supplies soon. If there's anything that's needed, Emer..."

Rustling, followed by the squeak of a cot turned her attention away. He was awake, and she felt a thousand waves of relief wash over her. As well as the overwhelming urge to move closer, and smother him with questions. She didn't though, remaining seated on her small stool.

"Not fucking urgent... hmm?"
 
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