RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

His opponent fell, not due to his own skill but due to her own incompetence it would seem. Lucien did not extend a hand to aid her, merely staring down at the flailing excuse for a swordswoman.

“It was merely orders. While I felt no attraction to her I did feel a certain vitriol. Whores should keep their sticky fingers to themselves while aboard an unfamiliar ship.” Lucien deftly stepped out of the way of her kick, his face a mask of boredom.

“There was a certain satisfaction I took in watching the light drain from O’Cain’s eyes as I took the blood from her body.” Lucien sidestepped the cheap shot to the stomach, instead seeking to respond with a a similar strike with the pommel of his blade.

“Since we are asking questions, why are you here?” His eyes narrowed. “We both know a pirate ship is no place for a cripple.” As if to emphasize his point, Lucien’s leg lashed out, looking to kick hard at her prosthetic leg. Weakness would be exploited, she must learn that.
 
"I don't know, Miss Nessa. I'm sorry." Pris wished that she had a better answer - or any answer, really. I don't know wasn't exactly very helpful. "Maybe Captain O'Cain can tell you more. If he tells you what he's supposed to be doing, maybe you can help with that."

She paused, then bit her lip and shrugged. "And... whatever else Mr. King wants him to do after that, I guess." She didn't think the mark would go away just because Mr. O'Cain did whatever the first request was. There would be something else he'd need to do, and something else after that.

Miss Alys thought there was a solution somewhere, so Pris would just have to hope that was true. Maybe they could talk to someone about it - someone who knew more than her, anyway - and see if there was an answer. She was spared from having to continue that conversation any more by the movement from the cot, the Captain apparently coming back to awareness.

Pris was very glad that Miss Alys said what she was thinking, because it would not have been very polite and she wouldn't have dared to say it - but she was definitely thinking exactly the same thing.
 
"There are certain cures I could try. I cannot make any promises."

Emer pressed the tincture into Caleb's wrist, holding her own hand tight around it. Every ailment had a cure, of course. Everything that did not outright kill. But - certain cures were far from her scope. She dealt with fevers and lice, not curses. Her knowledge of the arcane was limited to simple prayers of mending, little mantras to stave off death and keep the body well. This -

Caleb stirred, his eyes opening. Emer visibly relaxed. The others - were standing around, hovering, likely just as anxious as she was. Silly of her to keep idle hands wringing.

"Alys, dear, put the kettle on. Nessa, if you could hold this press to his wrist. Pris, a pillow, if you may, help him sit up." She watched Caleb come to consciousness with all the relief and all the sharpness of a mother who nearly watched her child die of stupidity. Alys made an offhand remark - and immediately after, Emer chimed in as well.

"Caleb O'Cain, you fool of a boy, trying to hide ailments from your wisewoman will get you killed. You are to come to me when you are ill," then, after a moment's pause, as if hesitant to test the waters, "that is an order."
 
Orders, given by captain Oiche, no doubt. This joke of a duel was turning out to be more insightful than Summer had expected.

She felt to the ground once again, this time with a louder slam than before. With her sword aside, that had been proven useless at this point, the dark haired woman looked up at her opponent.

“A pirate ship is the only place that’ll have someone like me.” She answered truthfully, though that had nothing to do with her leg. She crossed them, resting her hands on her knees. “I’m no match for you, clearly. Why don’t you try that one?” Lifting her chin, she gestured towards the white haired man going for the mop. “Word around says he’s a skilled swordsman.”

***

Alys was the first to address him, but not even seeing her made him capable of showing a smile.

He thought he was going to die. If Solomon wanted him dead, he certainly would be.

While Emer bossed the others around, Caleb sat up on the cot. His hand was back to normal like the previous times it had happened. The last time was less than an hour ago, he wondered how much time he had until it happened again.

“It didn’t hurt as much before.” He muttered, an answer to both Alys and Emer. “It’s a message from Solomon King. He wants me to kill the duke of Goswick and end his lineage.”

There was no point in hiding it. Perhaps he would’ve considered it, if he didn’t feel like he was running out of time. It was a command for him to follow through with his end of the bargain, the one Sinead didn’t want to take.
 
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Argent had expected little trouble finding a mop, and been frustratingly incorrect as he shuffled through scattered weapons and tools to find one. It was almost as though no one had mopped the decks in months, an absurd notion that was evidenced by the dryness of the mop head if not the grime.



For the mop to have been so disused he had expected the deck to be filthy, but after he began his work he was surprised to find it no more soiled than if the mop had been used within the past few weeks. As he worked, swiping side to side as he walked backward slowly, Argent considered how his “predecessor” could have kept the wood so clean without the proper tool. Occasionally he would glance over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the match between the Navigator and the new recruit.



He worked toward the closest rail, giving the two distance to avoid being caught in the middle. Somewhere near halfway he let his focus wander, and turned his attention fully to the fight as Summer went down hard. Her sword slid away, and her gaze turned away from her opponent toward Argent himself.



Eyebrows knitting together Argent leaned against the mop handle, eyes flicking to Lucien before meeting Summer’s. What was she telling the vampire, and how did it involve him?
 
Emer's scolding, as though he were a chaste boy hiding fairy herpes, nor his immediate reaction, brought Alys any sort of satisfaction. Not when he'd confirmed that Pris' information had been accurate. Sol wanted him for something, and after this something, there'd always be more.

How fucking unfortunate that this time, this something involved returning to Goswick. And enacting violence, after both Caleb and Emryk vowed to tighten their leashes, outwardly banning senseless murder.

Alys had risen and done what'd been asked, lighting a flame and placing the kettle over it. She remained standing though, arms crossed against her chest, mind racing. Would the endangerment on his life be enough to break the rules they'd set? To wipe out an entire fucking royal family? It'd be enough for her, but for others like Emer and Emryk, who were good and righteous - she wasn't entirely sure.

And Goswick? Could she even stomach setting foot on Goswick soil? Maybe she could convince a couple capable members of the crew to go with him, while she waited - how fucking cowardly.

Frustrated with herself, she kept her gaze lowered, fingers curling into two fists. "You're sure it's Goswick?" Why Goswick? Why these people?
 
Caleb knew what Goswick meant to Alys, which is why he didn’t want to say anything until he was sure. Throughout the ten years he had spent on the Nox, not once had he considered returning home, which was easy considering it would be the same as commiting suicide, with all the crimes he had commited. He could imagine she wasn’t thrilled with the news, even through her nonchalant tone.

“I am.” Unfortunately, he said with a sigh. “Can you go get Emryk?” He asked Pris, before turning his gaze to the wisewoman. He knew they weren’t on the best terms, but that wasn’t a conversation that should be had in his absence.
 
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Her gaze flashed upwards, daring to look at him. "How do you know? How did he...?" Was he growing insane; seeing or hearing things that weren't there? Seeing flashes of her home, or hearing Sol directly? Telling him where to go and what to do? Or was it just a feeling? Just an innate knowledge he suddenly had?
 
Pris did not think she'd ever really seen Miss Emer like that, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Telling Captain O'Cain to get help if he needed it was one thing, but calling him names was different. It was a fairly mild sort of name-calling, but it still counted - and especially from Miss Emer. She frowned a little bit at that, casting a worried look at the wisewoman.

Mr. O'Cain told them what it was that Mr. King wanted him to do - more killing, which really didn't surprise her. Pris didn't know where Goswick was or anything about it, really, other than that it was a dot on the maps. Maybe she'd been there before, she supposed, but she certainly hadn't been off the ship.

Miss Alys seemed to know something about it, though, from her reaction - and whatever it was, she wasn't happy about it. Pris found herself wondering if Goswick was where she'd learned to use a sword, or whether it was where she'd had a reason to need to use one. Maybe both.

She almost missed Mr. O'Cain asking her to go get Mr. Emryk, but drew herself back in just in time. It wouldn't be good to be distracted. Captains didn't like not being listened to, at least in her experience.

"I'll get him. Is it urgent this time, Mr. O'Cain?"
 
Caleb didn’t know if she was mocking him or if it was a genuine question, but he nodded at Pris.

“Tell him it’s urgent.” Otherwise, he might come up with an excuse to avoid the clinic. He waited to make sure she didn’t have any more questions or things to add, before answering Alys. “I saw flashes of it in my head. The shore… The duke and his family.” And the princess. From what he remembered she hadn’t yet married the duke’s son, but Caleb didn’t keep up with the royals’ affairs, and it was bound to happen eventually for they’d been engaged for years. Perhaps it happened and he missed the memo.
 
Urgent meant go right away. Pris slipped out through the door again - fortunately, Mr. Emryk wasn't hard to find, even surrounded by books and papers. She knocked - sort of - on the doorframe, more about making herself heard than asking permission, at least this time.

"Sorry, Mr. Emryk. Mr. O'Cain says he would like you to come down to the clinic so that you can discuss things. He says it's urgent this time, so I think you should go right away. Also he's awake again. So that's good."
 


Having taken some time for himself in the officer's hall, Emryk resumed his work upon the ship's finances and orders; he'd heard the news of Caleb's... episode, but did not inquire further; they were coming upon their pitstop, soon, and would need to make the visit brief. Which made his job harder. The quicker the stop, the quicker they'd need to get necessary materials, and the quicker they'd need to find the merchants who would sell these materials.

His attention, however, was currently preoccupied by the small girl before him. Feigning a soft, tired smile, Emryk nodded and stood from his desk, making his way past Pris and moving towards the clinic.

"Thank you, Pris. Is that all?" He asked, still looking ahead; the trip to Emer's abode would be short. No real time for questions. With any luck, the visit would be short as well, and he could get back to work. Emer needn't see him, now, anyways; his wounds from the spat with Lucien were nearly healed.

Nearly.

 
Summer pulled herself off the ground, walking up to the man by the railing, with his brows furrowed. Her hand reached for the mop.

“Help a girl out, will you? That guy needs a distraction, my bones are too fragile for this.” She whispered, even though there was a possibility the vampire could hear it either way. From what she’d heard, their senses were better than most, she just didn’t know the extent of it. “I’ll mop the rest.”

Maybe mopping by the clinic could lead to her hearing something that was being said inside. Or at least someone could see her doing work, something she hadn’t shown for lately and probably should start doing.

***

While Pris went after Emryk, Caleb considered it would be better to give the girls a little more context. Nessa probably wouldn’t care for it, but Emer and Alys certainly would.

“It began bothering me a couple days ago, but I didn’t think much of it until the last time, when it really hurt. I kept seeing the beach in my head, but I thought it was just my imagination.” Perhaps because of that night when they’d talked about it, and what could have been had things been different. Caleb couldn’t help but look at Alys, even though what he truly wanted to do was to hug her. He wouldn’t admit how scared he was, but having her arms around him would undoubtedly make it better.

"I wasn't sure until now, after seeing them. The duke, his two daughters, eldest son and his bride-to-be."
 
"Yes, Mr. Emryk." Well, it wasn't really all, but Mr. O'Cain could probably explain the rest a lot better than Pris could, and standing here trying to explain it herself would only delay things - especially since Mr. Emryk looked like he was already going. She let him past her, taking a look at the stacks of papers he'd left behind, wondering if maybe he was just trying to do something that wasn't papers for a while. Then again, maybe he liked doing papers.

She shrugged, more to herself than anything, and pulled the door closed, following after the big man and finding she needed to speed her steps up a little - he didn't seem to be walking that fast, but he was very big, and his steps covered a lot more space than hers did. She arrived at the clinic a little after he did, peeking inside and wondering if anyone was going to tell her to go feed the goats, or if it was okay to be here.

She was also wondering whether she'd rather go feed the goats, but that was another question entirely.
 
“What? Seeing visions? Think Sinead had a book like that in her collection.” Nessa muttered, though that book had mainly been about the protagonist seeing the dashing love interest in various stages of undress, which didn’t quite seem relevant to this new problem. Might be more concerning if it was relevant actually.

With a sight Nessa slid into the room as she heard Emryk’s heavy footsteps approaching and found an empty space for her to lean against the wall and cross her arms.

“Okay, so we can assume the visions are getting worse because we haven’t acted on them. Yeah? So what do we need to do then about the Duke?” Kill him? Kidnap him? The Nox had down worse for less, anyway.
 
Kill him and end his lineage, Alys wanted to repeat, answering Nessa's question. She didn't though, opting to remain silent after Pris had left, and upon her return with the Baron. Her gaze had lowered, focusing on one of the corner's of the cot, where the edge of the thin blanket swooped down to graze the wooden floor. Arms remained crossed against her chest, firmly pressing, subconsciously attempting to provide the smallest comfort.

But the killing didn't matter. Not to her.

She'd seen the distant sliver of land last time and had tumbled beneath the deck, remaining until they'd set sail once more. Now, there was no choice. Perhaps it'd help if they dropped her off earlier, away from the shoreline and docks. She'd walk the streets alone, avoiding the places she knew, convincing herself that she was elsewhere. And then she'd meet them at the palace. That could work - she'd make sure it worked.
 
When Pris stepped in, accompanied by Emryk, Caleb repeated everything he’d just said. About the pain, the visions, their next destination and the task he was ordered to complete.

“Getting to the duke is gonna be hard. Killing all five of them without getting caught is gonna be harder.” And after they’d just talked about not killing innocent people. With his hand around his wrist, Caleb squeezed it lightly, cursing himself for his choices. Was it worth it? He had to believe the answer was yes.

“My plan is to take Lucien, Summer and Argent with me. For the rest, I’ll just need help to find us a way in.” Lucien would likely enjoy being allowed to kill, and if the other two got killed or arrested, Caleb wouldn’t mind. Inviting Ciaran for this conversation was in order, but they’d need to go somewhere else. The space in the clinic was starting to get suffocating.

"I don't have a choice, if I don't do this, King will kill me. But I understand if you refuse. We'll need people to guard the ship." He told Emryk, though the option was there for more people to take. He'd be relieved if they did, so he wouldn't have to face the possibility of them getting hurt.
 


"Pris, go to the officer's hall; remain there until we fetch you."

Emryk's gaze was level. Uncomfortably so. He stared down upon her like a god upon a disciple, the light of the clinic framing his features in a shadowed tone until he saw that the girl was out of sight and, hopefully, out of earshot.

"I won't do this." He stated, simply. A moment later, he looked to Emer, then to Nessa, and back to Caleb-- his brow furrowed. "I won't be complicit in it, and I will not endorse it. He-- surely there has to be another way. Surely-- how does he know? He's a necromancer, isn't he? Would there be some way to-- to trick whatever hex he's put upon you, some way..."

The Duke of Goswick. His children. His family. All of them were to die. He couldn't believe it was the only option. He refused. "Why them? Why now? You can't expect me to just-- sit idly by and pretend I don't know what's to happen to these people, Caleb."

 
Pris scowled. It wasn't a very grown up expression, but she felt that if she wasn't going to be treated like a grown up, she was free to make whatever expressions she wanted. It was the officer's mess part that annoyed her, she thought. Telling her to go away so that the important ship people could talk with the Captain, that was fine - but Pris didn't have any reason at all to be in the officer's mess, and so that made it less go be somewhere else and more putting her away somewhere Mr. Emryk thought was safe.

If it all went wrong, Mr. King would kill everyone on the ship, including her, and so she didn't really feel like the officer's mess was any safer than anywhere else - or, at least, it wouldn't be for long.

She released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, looking over at Miss Alys. Miss Alys was busy with Mr. O'Cain right now, and that was fine. But Miss Alys had talked to her a little bit about keeping herself safe, and it didn't include going and hiding in the officer's mess.

Okay. Fine. That was fine. She could make her own plans. She gave Mr. O'Cain a little nod, because if he wanted to call her back, he could - he was the Captain, after all - and slipped out of the clinic. The main deck wasn't as scary as it had been any more - she'd been up there a few times, with Miss Alys and others. She still didn't want to leave the ship, but she could handle the top of it at least.

Mr. Lucien was there, and the new - Miss Summer, that was her name - her - having been fighting. Miss Summer was mopping and trying to convince the other new guy, the one Pris didn't like, to fight Mr. Lucien. He was busy mopping as well. Neither one of them were as good at scrubbing as Mr. Leo had been, but that was okay. He was sort of special. Her hand moved, picking up the sea-glass necklace that had once been his and tucking it under her shirt, then picking out the very smallest sword that she could find and walking up to the vampire that everyone else was afraid of.

"I'll fight you."
 
Emryk's reaction was hardly a surprise; Alys had known that they wouldn't be able to depend on him - not with this. His questions were valid, optimistic even, despite being imprisoned on the Teller himself. Sol's power and cruelty had no bounds - it was safer to assume, rather than test the limits. Of course, they'd look into alternatives but with the sudden sense of urgency, Alys had little hope that the Duke and his family would survive. Perhaps they'd buy them all a little more time, saving Caleb and Sol's next targets.

Standing there, practically a wallflower, she refrained from stepping in, not when Emryk had beaten her to it. Although partially relieved that she wasn't included in the plan, she didn't approve of it. He'd chosen the three least trustworthy people on this fucking ship to take with him. The three most likely to choose the easy route and put Caleb out of his misery before he made it to the servants quarters.

Stepping closer to Nessa, she murmured quietly. "Would you go? With him?" A second vampire, one who held some sway with Lucien, who could overtake Argent and Summer, who specialized in stealth, and most importantly, one that Alys could depend on, was invaluable.
 
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