RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

"I am against this as well," Emer added from the counter. She glanced at Emryk, and quickly looked away. "We know what kind of man Solomon King is. Anything he desires of us is not something we would do well to stand by. There must be - some way out of this covenant you have been consigned to."

Her attention fell on Caleb now. Hard. Sharp.

"What were the terms of your deal, Caleb? What did he say to you?"

A pause.

"What did he demand of you?"
 
“Can’t say I care much about some Royal family.” Nessa muttered, amber eyes moving from Emryk to Caleb. Emryk’s refusal didn’t come as a surprise, though it was hard to say what the other available options were. Well, letting Caleb die seemed pretty obvious, but one where everyone lived? Nessa’s gaze returned to Alys.

She sighed, quietly and annoyed. “I can, but I’m no assassin.” She said, voice no louder than before. Blood for blood was not an ultimatum the Goddess cared for, even if Nessa herself couldn’t spare a feeling for the Duke.”I can see to it that the idiot keeps his head at least.”
 
“If you have another idea, be my guest.” Caleb said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll ask Hester to look into a way to break this curse, but I doubt Sol would be careless enough to make it easy.” The captain stood from the cot and walked over to the quartermaster, keeping enough distance so he could still look him in the eye.

“I’m not thrilled about this either, baron. I’m not a killer for sport.” Unlike others in this ship. “I don’t know why them, but it’s gotta have to do with his plan of taking over the Floating Isles.”

After being quietly listening for quite some time, Emer finally spoke up. Her being against it was just as much of a surprise as Emryk, and when she asked about the terms of his deal… It wasn’t something he could actually tell her.

“It wasn’t a deal.” He lied. “I should have known the blade was cursed, he trapped me with it. What I just told you is all I know of it.”

Some of it wasn’t a lie. At no point during their conversation did Solomon mention he’d be putting him on a leash. Caleb was so blinded by adrenaline and anger back then, that he didn’t hesitate on taking the blade. He should have killed Sinead with his own.
 


"There's--"

Emryk's gaze hardened. His fist tightened, and he looked the Captain in his lone eye, letting a breath fall from his lips.

"-- there's the option to not do anything at all. To deny what King asks of you. Entirely."

If his words were unclear, those that followed would be unequivocally undeniable.

"Even if you may die, there are innocent lives-- multiple, in fact-- that you would spare. You have a choice, here. Even if you did not have one then." His arms crossed. "Did you think there would be no cost to dealing with King?"

 
Lucien watched as his opponent crashed to the ground, a look of pale disinterest across his face. He had barely tried, if they were in a raid she would be one of the first to perish. Maybe she could join the wisewoman and the child in their cowering belowdecks. Worthless. She tried to pawn him off on some other new recruit, a white-haired man who was conspicuously mopping the deck, making every effort not to listen in to their conversation.

"If he wishes to fight me, he can say so himself." Lucien called to them. He overheard their whispered conversation with ease. He could not tell if they were working together towards some other goal, but he made a mental note to keep tabs upon the two of them. Lucien was about to say something else before a small, timid voice reached his ear.

Lucien turned his gaze downward, an eyebrow raised. There stood the child, the one he had carried over from the Truth Teller. In her hands was clutched a tiny sword, perhaps even a dagger. She held it with some discomfort, as though she was not used to holding something that could hurt her. A small half-smile crept onto Lucien's face as he tried to keep his voice level.

"Oh?" He asked, not bothering to stoop down to her level. "And why, praytell, has the scared little necromancer finally decided she has a death wish?"
 
"I don't have a death wish, Mr. Lucien. But Miss Alys says I need to practice." Miss Alys had taught her everything she knew - which was, so far, not very much. She took a stance - very much a beginner's stance, to be fair, but angled carefully sideways. Miss Alys had told her that she needed to make being small at least some advantage, which meant presenting less of a target. They had worked on that, just like they had worked on raising the sword up into a careful guard position.

She knew two guards and two strikes so far. It wouldn't be enough, but that was what the practice was for. If nothing else, at least she wasn't afraid. It was only Mr. Lucien, after all.

"And I need to learn to fight someone like you." Not him - but someone like him. Naveen was still out there, after all.
 
Argent got his answer sooner than expected, the hobbled elf nearly running from her match with the Navigator to pull the mop from Argent’s hand insistently. At her request for assistance he scoffed slightly, looking back to Lucien with one hand defiantly on the mop as Summer began to finish his work. He reluctantly released the mop, though his grip had done little to stop Summer’s sweeping motions.

The vampire, it seemed, had no preference for his opponent, a fact Argent figured to be a fair indication of his intentions. A denial rose to his lips, intent to speak his inclination to keeping his body intact, when a small voice offered an unexpected reply. The sword she held was almost comically large to her frame, but Pris held it resolutely as she issued her challenge.

”I don’t think you’re allowed to kill Miss Pris, Mr. Kilta.” Argent’s denial was replaced in the child’s defense, calling back to the conditions Caleb set in the meeting. The crew accepted the girl as one of their own, which was the best metric to figure her status as part of the crew. The gold and bone that flashed on Lucien’s wrist would dole out swift punishment if he were to kill the child, but Argent couldn’t leave such a matter to punishment over prevention.

”Why don’t we give the girl a demonstration, instead?” Argent wanted to slap himself to keep the words from falling out. Lucien’s decoration offered no protection to him, a definitive outsider to the crew Caleb had protected. If the vampire was out for murder Argent was presenting himself on a silver platter.

”Firsthand experience can come in different forms,” he offered to Pris in an attempt to appease her battlelust. He hoped she would accept a lesson at his expense, rather than insisting to pay with her own hide.
 
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She needed someone to hold the group together - someone to keep the idiots head secured - not an assassin. So when Nessa agreed to the request, Alys nodded, quietly responding with her own murmur. "Thank you."

The conversation taking place between Caleb, Emryk, and Emer had temporarily become nothing more than background noise while she'd conferred with Nessa. The numbness she felt about the prospect of returning to Goswick certainly didn't help either. But Emryk's final sentences rang through her ears, demanding her attention. "Our late Captain chose to steer us into the Ice Lands," she said, reminding those present of the reason they'd chased after the Teller, of the reason Caleb had been forced into this role. "King owns the Nox - who do you think he'll come after next?" She jutted her chin out towards Caleb. "Once he's dead?"
 


"If King comes after the Nox, he won't have anyone under his thumb to force people to kill damned bystanders in a conflict," Emryk stated, narrowing his eyes. "And what happens if we follow through, then? Another task? Another family to kill? Something worse? What's to say King even keeps his word?"

He looked to Alys-- then back to Caleb.

"I meant what I said when I told you I would not kill innocents." Emryk stated. His arms crossed; his tone was final, even if his words very well might've meant nothing. "That also includes standing by as lives are taken. I've no desire to take the path of a witness in whatever atrocity this is. We've done enough of that."

His gaze, piercing, looked to Emer, at that.

 
Ever since their talk with Alys, Juniper had kept to theirself. Between that, and everything else that had happened on the Nox lately, they weren't in a very conversational mood, something that had been true for the last few months now. It was hard, and they knew it was bad for their mentality, but they couldn't bring theirself to seek anyone out, and now with hardly a soul to really confide in, they felt all the more lonely.

The last few days had been spent focusing on a new project, something to take their mind off of everything else, and everyone else. The ring that they'd warned Nessa about had ended up in their possession. Or, the fragments had, after Lucien had promptly destroyed it. While they had no experience in creating or tinkering with magic, they were nearly the only one who stood any chance of working something out of the metal, weaving something out of the magic that remained. They all knew it targeted vampirism, and they all knew there was still a missing vampire out there, one who meant them harm, and so they took on the task.

Sitting far belowdecks, in an isolated corner shown to them once by Hester, they sat with their eyes closed, the remains piled in the palm of their hand. It wasn't dissimilar to mediation, though it was mentally much more strenuous, an active exploration of what the ring held. They'd read about it once, and with no formal teacher, things were going slowly. Of course, nothing could be easy, anymore.
 
Even though the important discussion was being held at the clinic, Summer couldn’t help but get curious about the current turn of events. She recognized that stance, though it’d take the little girl a long time to perfect it.

“Why not two against one? I’m sure Mr. Kilta can take it.” She suggested, with an amused smile.

***

Not doing anything at all. If only he knew how much time he’d be given, if he had any substantial idea of how to kill King or how to break the curse… Very few lives were worth even considering it, the duke’s wasn’t one of them.

“I wonder if it was your life on the line, if you’d hold to your morals so dearly.” Caleb said, repressing the anger threatening to slip through. It wasn’t just because of Emryk's little regard for his life, but also the condescending glances he caught him shooting at Emer. Caleb would be the first to call her a hypocrite, but he knew no one valued the crew's safety more than she did. He had no right to make her feel that way.

“Because of what happened to your homeland, baron, I thought you’d know none of them are truly innocent. If you believe their lives, including the life of a man who sentenced an innocent boy to death is worth more than mine… You should probably go back home and bend the knee. See if they're as virtuous when it comes to your people.”
 
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"Yes. I would. Because that is the POINT of a damned moral code, Captain! NOT to break it!" Emryk snapped back, raising his voice not out of anger, but of frustration-- out of fatigue. An overwhelming tiredness of all that had built up to this point. "Especially not only a few days after promises of change, and of doing better."

His snout curled into an expression of pained pity, but his will remained resolute-- unwarped-- unyielding. "As I told you, I am willing to exercise every option before killing them. I am sorry this is happening to you. Truly. But regardless of his crimes-- I nearly beat Lucien to death, a week ago. A mantle looms over me-- one I swore I would never assume. Where will we draw the line for an exception, next? You justify that the Duke must die, but absolve yourself of your own sins and those upon this ship?" He took a step forward, now, finger curling to point down at the Nox. "That is not morality. That is convenience."

At the mention of his homeland, his brow furrowed-- the briefest bit of ire showing upon his features as he shook his head.

"All my people have done is fight, and kill, and hate. Ever since the faeries came. It was all I knew, for a time. And what did it solve?" A chop of his hand, horizontal. A gesture of finality. "Nothing. So you'll have to excuse me if I find your appeal of my homeland just a bit disingenuous. And if you think you'll magically institute a better regime and fix your problems by killing the faeries, you're wrong. This is a cycle, Caleb. All it has been, and all it ever will be."

 
“If there is another option, I’ll take it. But I don’t know how much time I have.” His voice cracked, and suddenly Caleb felt too conscious of how many people were in that room. “We draw the line when King is dead.”

With these as his final words, Caleb stormed off of the clinic. Emryk was right about it being a cycle that perhaps wouldn’t end with King, perhaps wouldn’t end with the fall of the empire either. If there was no end, what was the point in fighting it? Caleb didn’t even pay attention to the fight about to start on deck, while heading straight to his bedroom. He wanted to be alone, he needed to put his head back in place to do the right thing. To save his own life, that he'd doomed himself.
 
Now he wanted to fight. Now that he was - what, protecting her? Why would he protect her? It didn't make any sense, and it wasn't like Pris had asked for it. It was just another way of saying you can't, you can't, you can't. Pris knew what happened, to people who couldn't, but it seemed like half the people here wanted to keep her from doing anything.

Miss Alys hadn't protected her. Miss Alys had showed her how to hold a sword, and told her here, you're going to have to learn how to protect yourself.

Mr. Lucien might have taunted her or threatened her, but he did that to everyone. He didn't try to keep her out of the way. He didn't try to keep her small.

So she walked forward - it wasn't very far to walk - and lowered the blade enough that it wouldn't get caught between them, and kept walking until she walked into Mr. Lucien, who was very solid. Her head tilted a little, enough to look back at Argent, the little sword still in her hand, her face flushed with annoyance and indignation.

"Fine. But I'm on Mr. Lucien's side."
 
Ciaran had been all but a ghost aboard the Nox for the days since leaving Leimor. He remained sequestered in his cabin, refusing audience with anyone - save Torrel, who would visit the kitchen and bring meals to the officer at night. Then, before dawn, before the others, he'd walk the deck or perch at the bow - hungover, until the ship began to rouse. Back to the dark.

Books and tools were his friends, he'd squandered most everyone else. It was here he'd broke out his journal again, and began writing every conscious thought he felt worth noting. He'd made himself a hermit, hard to care for and hard to find. This wasn't his way - but the life of a navy man couldn't be considered his way anymore either. He'd played this role so long, why was it now that he realized how weary he'd become?

It took the better part of the day to clean himself up once more. He shaved and trimmed his scruffy beard into the respectable and iconic moustache, chin, and sideboard combination he had sported for sometime. Then, when he stopped smelling like the floor of a pub, Ciaran dressed himself stately - his overcoat colored stratos, high leather boots, and a fine cravat he hadn't worn for nearly two years. Feeling adequately presentable, Ciaran left his quarters resolved to report in and see to his duties.

How convenient it was then that the first person he saw coming down towards him was Caleb - leaving the clinic perhaps? "Captain," Ciaran regarded him warmly, then he reconsidered his tone when he saw the look in Caleb's eyes. "I don't mean to prod, but -" Caleb was a man who let his emotions fly free. He'd see him angry, jealous, vengeful - this was something else. "Out of the frying pan, sir?" He'd never called him sir before, but in that moment it seemed to come out without hesitation.
 
Caleb felt like punching somebody, and that somebody was almost Ciaran. He knew better than to start a fist fight in the middle of the hallway with a man that had a mechanical arm however, and thinking about that arm… If the mark was detached from his body, would the curse still affect him? Was it worth it to try and find out?

“What do you want?” He asked, ignoring the master gunner’s question. It was obvious by the stupid look on his face that no one had told him about the recent events yet, so he’d have to hear it from Caleb himself. “How far would you go to save my life, Airgetlám?” He asked. Probably not that far, he imagined.
 
Running a hand down her face, Alys sighed quietly, her only real reaction to the discussion and Caleb's subsequent departure. Though even without his presence, the tension remained impossibly thick, especially between the quartermaster and the wisewoman. A moment of silence passed and she looked up, glancing between the two of them.

She should follow after him, provide reassurance that despite Emryk's disregard, they'd do what needed to be done. He was Captain, after all, not Emryk.

"What are our other options?" Alys asked thoughtfully, albeit with exhaustion, attempting diplomacy. "Maybe we can convince the Duke and his family to hide - disappear."

Faking the slaughter of a noble family seemed impossible, the idea itself absurd. Goswick would suffer greatly without a leader, as any other large dwelling would. Who would take their place? Who did Sol want to take their place?
 
Ciaran's eyebrow arched at Caleb's retort. It certainly wasn't the expected response, but it was still a valid question - albeit out of nowhere. He knew there was much troubling the new captain, the biggest of his concerns being the looming threat of Solomon King - his shadow had followed them since the ice wastes.

He thought for a moment in the silence between them. Sinead had never asked such a thing, she wasn't exactly looking to Ciaran for a confidant. Caleb deserved his honestly, and Ciaran couldn't deny his urge to show his loyalty. "Farther than you think, captain." His expression settled into attempted understanding.
 
Was it, further than he’d think? Ciaran was known by all for his loyalty, but that was when Sinead was captain. What reason would he have to be loyal to him? After all the shit he’d put him through throughout all the years they’d known each other? A cynic smile formed in Caleb’s lips.

“Would you murder five fairies for me? Three of them are women, a beautiful princess included.” He nearly pouted while uttering the words, out of how absurd it was to think of Ciaran in the role of an assassin. He wasn’t above killing people, but Caleb had only seen it happen in battle. He wasn’t cold blooded enough to look someone in the eye while doing it, while they begged for their lives, let alone for his sake. Perhaps if it was for the sake of someone he cared about.

“Long story short, it’s either that or bye bye, short-lived Captain O’Cain.” He sighed, defeated. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

That he would have gone through all he’d gone through to die in the sand. Had even a month passed? It felt a lot longer than that. He certainly wasn’t the same person, he didn’t have as much to lose before. The fear of dying was greater than it had ever been before, now that he’d caught a glimpse of what happiness could taste like.
 
“The noble blood of the Empire seemed to do well enough for themselves by putting free cities to blade and boot until the citizens were happy enough to fly their flags and sing their songs to make the blood stop.” Nessa said, an acid bite to her words and a heavy tap of her boots. “’Course, the blood never did stop did it? The Empire just made the merchants happy by grinding the poor instead. Squeezing every drop of use from them while they gave titles and medals to the merchant families with coin enough to keep generations of their kin fat and soft.” A flash of fang through curled lip, a bounce in her heel that might have been nerves or a swell of anger looking for somewhere to be.

“A duke? Innocent? A cousin’s cousin of the Emperor on high? I have not a doubt in my soul that man has more blood on his hands than this ship in total.” As glare as sharp as teeth lingered on Emryk, but slid away. Tried to find a face that wasn’t here to actually hate. “To be against killing is fine, the Goddess is clear on that, but let’s not pretend that this is some miller just trying to get by.” With nowhere to be, the bitterness simply dripped on the edges of words. Nessa took another breath.

“If we kill him,” Nessa held up a finger. “If, then we damn well better figure out what it is King has planned for Goswick, because that man is no better than the Empire, his ship makes that as clear as can be. People are ingredients to him and it’s damn well in our interests to not hand him a city of souls.” The anger didn’t pass, but she was quiet again, picking at the hem of her cloak.
 
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