RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Princess meant royalty, and the threat of death stunk of King's influence. Five fairies for the life of Caleb O'Cain, or so he said. "Pathetic?" Ciaran almost chortled at Caleb's bemoaning, out of character for the confident fairy buccaneer. "Tragic? Maybe, but certainly not pathetic." Kill some fairies?

It was they who poisoned the heart of iron.

All Fir'Bolg knew those words and what they meant. Ciaran held little love in his heart for the Empire - few Fir'Bolgs did, even those with positions within the Empire's infrastructure - most toiled within its lowest levels. Military service ironically provided a higher life expectancy than the drudgers and miners in places like Brimstone and Little Ermine.

"Look, Caleb. I'm all for killing whoever needs killing for us to keep flying," he wiped his eyes and sighed, "but if I have to kill five people - women included, princess or not? I'm doing it for my captain. Not Sol, not anybody, just you and the poor bastards who call this tub home."
 
He wasn’t joking, and Caleb was taken aback by it. He didn’t know what to say to that, causing an uncomfortable silence to grow between them for a moment.

“I’ll- We’re on route to Goswick already. We should have about two hours to plan how we’re gonna go about it.” His voice was calmer, after getting rejected by Emryk, Ciaran’s words made him feel like perhaps it was possible to pull this off. A quick detour, and then they’d get back to trying to find a way to kill King, hopefully before he decided to ask for a favor again.

“I need a drink.” He turned away from his room and made his way back towards the office. They’d need to restock soon, the liquor in there was evaporating too quickly. “Do you still have that Fir Bolg stuff?” He asked, reminding of the last time they’d had a drink toget
her.

***

“HAHAHAH!” Summer burst into laughter straight at Pris’ serious face. She knew there was at least a screw missing in that girl, but seeing her pick Lucien’s side with such determination proved she was even more fucked up than she’d initially thought.

“Good luck with those two, Argent.” The pirate said, leaning the mop against the railing. As the captain walked back up to deck, coming from the officers quarters, she realized she had gotten distracted and didn’t see him leaving the clinic. She wondered who she should approach first and decided to knock on the clinic’s door before peeking inside.

“I see the captain is healed! Whatever happened to him?” She asked, innocent relief glowing in her eyes, as fake as her obliviousness to the tension in the room.
 
Last edited:
"I think - there is a choice we have not fully considered." Emer returned Emryk's glance, quickly. "Solomon King has been - a threat to us without recourse. He was the cause of Sinead's death, and if he does not have his way, will be the cause of Caleb's as well."

She looked up grimly from her poultice.

"You are doubtless right, he will stop at nothing if we cross him. Which is why - we must stop him ourselves."

She stared around the room, from one face to the next, hands tightening around the bowl.

"I will not speak of vengeance, or of retribution. I will not speak of justice or of eyes for eyes. But barring us committing senseless acts of violence in the name of a monster, I see no other choice."

For her.

A voice spoke up from the door, and Emer paused, lip pursing slightly.

"Who are you, dear? You should not be in here."
 
Lucien was not an ignorant man. He had overheard from Hester how Solomon King's vampire had feasted upon all of the crew at one point or another, how she had purposefully ensured he would not have tasted the girl she so cared for. No doubt this little girl wanted revenge of some sort. But there was not the typical anger of vengeance, just a set expression and a look of determination. Lucien opened his mouth to respond before another of the new arrivals decided to open his own.

"I am perfectly aware that the Captain's doctrine against killing crewmates extends to all members of the crew, thank you very much." He was not referring to the bracelet on his wrist, nor any order O'Cain had given. Lucien took a good look at the man, noting his white hair, the scar, and in particular the pointed tips of his ears. His grip on the blade tightened. Elves hid their age gracefully, so there was a chance he was even older than the vampire. He was about to accept the duel, regardless of this fact, in simple hopes it would give him the challenge he craved.

Unfortunately, his response was interrupted once again by something bumping into him. He looked down to see that the girl had pressed herself against him, tilting her head back to look up at the offending crew member. A small smirk spread across his face at the look on her face, one he could remember wearing many a time.

This will certainly be interesting.

"I believe those terms are quite fair." Lucien spoke up at last, finally being free to speak. "Myself and the girl against you. Whether you use sharp or dull steel matters not." A taunting smirk flashed at the man. "After all, you should be able to handle someone who is still learning, yes?" He chuckled before crouching down to her level, eyes staring ahead.

"He will focus on me." He muttered, low enough so only she could hear. That much would be obvious. Lucien was probably the only one aboard who would not go easy on her. "Wait for his guard to be down, then strike." Lucien brought himself to his full height, drawing his dulled blade and running his finger along it once more. The edge had nocked slightly from where it had crashed into the woman's wooden leg, but it would still serve. He took up an open stance, blade tip angled upward, held loosely in his grip, claws flexed to one side. If the poor man suffered some wounds from training an inexperience fighter, well. Lucien could hardly be blamed for that.

"Shall we begin?"
 
Argent’s face dropped into a noticeable frown, one eyebrow arched at the young girl’s decision to spar alongside the vampire rather than against him. Though she might not have considered it, the decision was a smart move on her part that removed the risk that the Navigator posed without sacrificing what she could learn from how he fought. Allies in battle made for the worst enemies, and Pris had chosen to use that to her benefit for whatever motivations she had.

He only spared a glance toward Summer as she left, frown deepening for a fraction of a second before disappearing altogether. She had managed to shirk her match as well as his own assigned cleaning that she had offered him as her scapegoat. Lucien’s acceptance was heard, though Argent’s eyes remained fixed on the leaning mop for a moment before he met the vampire’s gaze.

”You should be able to handle someone who is still learning, yes?”

The corner of Argent’s mouth turned upward as Lucien conferred with the child, crouching without removing his focus. It was clear the Navigator was competent, enough so to make up for what Pris lacked in experience. He was also cunning, a trait Argent wasn’t sure belonged to which facet of the man-shaped monster. He held the vampire’s gaze with a faint smirk, until Lucien called for his ready.

”Actually,” Argent began, glancing away from the man’s sword to gesture behind him. ”I still have a bit less than half of this deck left to swab, and your original prey has buggered off.” Almost stiffly he took the half step backward necessary to reach the wooden handle of the mop against the railing.

”So, I have a proposal.” Argent spun the mop in hand fluidly, slapping the length of it into his other hand. ”If I win, you will finish for me. If I lose you can name your task.” Argent’s smirk grew a bit more noticeable. ”But if she lands the final blow you and I will swab the rest of the deck together.” Argent brought the haft of the mop down upon his knee, snapping it into a length comparable to a sword before throwing the head away.


”And I have no intention of bringing live steel to bear against a child.”
 
Her suggestions went unanswered, the moral and political concerns of her companions overshadowing the attempt to initiate a secondary plan. They were valid concerns, valid questions and worries - most of which had crossed her mind - though they belonged to a much greater beast. There simply wasn't enough time to answer them, not now. And with her first attempt ignored, Alys didn't feel obligated to try again.

A knock - her gaze drifted to the door, finding Summer's inquiring face peaking inside. Alys' eyes narrowed. Once again, inserting herself where she didn't belong.

You should not be here.

The smallest of smiles appeared on her lips. "Neither do I," she stated, in response to Emer's earlier conclusion. "But time is ticking."

Dread returned but she didn't linger any further, striding forward, opening the door wide and looking down at the woman. "He'll be flattered by your concern." She took a step forward, closing it firmly behind her. "Are you any good with a sword?"
 
Mr. Lucien agreed to the match, and Pris nodded as he whispered his advice, her gaze turning to Argent. He laid out a few terms of his own, and she felt her brow furrow.

"Mr. Lucien, doesn't all that just mean the best deal for you is for you to be the one to beat him?" Her voice was just as quiet as his had been, but wasn't that how it went? If Argent won, Mr. Lucien was supposed to clean, if Pris won, Mr. Lucien and Argent were supposed to clean, and if Mr. Lucien won then he got out of cleaning and got to claim a penalty from Argent.

That seemed strange to her, and she wondered if they'd been meant to notice how that all worked out.

She frowned a little, then added another whisper: "I still kind of want to beat him though." She would like to hit him with a sword very much, actually.

Argent apparently didn't like the idea of fighting her with a practice sword, so he broke a mop in half, as if the pointy end was going to be less pointy. Also, that meant they had one less mop, and the ship, she had noticed, had a lot more swords than it did mops. "Mr. Emryk is probably going to make you pay for that," she pointed out. That was Mr. Emryk's job, now, making sure all the things got replaced. Mops, swords, stowaways... Well, usually he was okay, but lately he was gloomy. It was probably to do with having to sit in a room with so many papers.

At least Mr. Lucien wasn't any grumpier than he usually was. It was sort of refreshing, in a way.

She squared her blade, taking up her guard position again, the same one as before. She only knew one other, and she was better at this one. Miss Alys was a good teacher, Pris thought, but she hadn't had very many lessons just yet. Mr. Lucien was very good, though, and she knew that. All she had to do was stay out of his way.
 
Last edited:
Caleb seemed somewhat relieved now, but following through with this was going to be a much different matter. At least the captain could sleep with a still mind now, and that would hopefully spread to the crew. The crew needed faith in their superiors - a bit of fear too, but mostly they needed to believe the executive were sure of what they were doing. Doubt and fear sunk ships faster than grapeshot.

"Ahh, you took a liking to the uisce beatha?" Ciaran said with a smug grin. "'Fir'Bolg stuff,' as you say. I'm glad to hear the tastes of my kinsmen left its impression." He ducked into his room and retrieved the vintage from his cabinet - yesterday he'd had half a mind to throw the damn reserve starboard, but now it seemed right to indulge in homely spirits within reason.

"A drink - then we should discuss how and if we'd go about this damned business." Ciaran said as he emerged moments later from his room with a pair of glasses and his sealed bottle.
 
Still not welcome, but Summer was already expecting it.

“I didn’t mean to pry, I was just worried.” She said, taking a step back as Alys approached. “I’m glad he’s awake, I was wondering what made him faint like that.” A question she probably wouldn’t get an answer to, at least not directly. Time is ticking, she said. “I used to believe I was, but Mr. Kilta beat me up way too easily. I guess I’m still getting used to the prosthetic.” With her hands clasped behind her back, Summer turned her head to where the action was about to start.

“Pris sang your praises earlier. I hope whatever you taught her was enough to keep her out of harm’s way.”

***

Caleb didn’t bother closing the door to the office, hurrying to get to the map of the region. By the time he found it, Ciaran had already caught up to him.

“We’re short on time, so we’ll drink and discuss business.” He said, spreading the map over the round table, using paper weights to keep it in place.

“We’ll need to find a place to land that’s close enough to the castle, but that won’t be found by the authorities.” Unlike Leimor, they couldn’t simply bribe an officer for a slot in the harbor. The cities in the west continent, especially a large one like Goswick, were way more guarded - especially Goswick, after the pirate attack that had nearly destroyed the city a little over a decade ago. “If it’s too far, we’ll have a harder time making an escape. We could have a helmsman on the ready, but then we’d need to come up with a signal so they’d know when to bring the Nox to us.”
 
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," Alys drawled, casting a sidelong and completely disinterested glance at the woman, who either didn't understand the definition of prying or wasn't skilled enough to hide her attempts.

Summer's final sentence peaked her interest though, and with a couple steps forward, the fae cast her gaze upon the upcoming duel. Or truel? Worry clouded her mind, settling only once she'd truely processed the sight; of Argent wielding a wooden edge and Lucien crouching down beside the young girl. Practice. This was practice. Ronan's spirit wouldn't allow otherwise. Still, she lingered, observing.

And what a sight. The girl who'd hidden below the decks for weeks, scared of the open expanse, sword in hand and ready to fight, just as she'd been taught. Alys almost smiled, despite everything.

"You'd better hope it's just the prosthetic. And get used to it - fast. Once we land you'll be joining the Captain in hunting down the noble family."
 
Lucien rolled his eyes as the man continued to delay the duel he apparently desired so much. He droned on about the work he had been assigned before breaking the mop in half with a flourish, bringing the wooden part to bear. Whilst doing so, he delivered a challenge that made Lucien's lip curl. Did he truly believe that this little game of his would make Lucien fight differently? He was still going to lose, regardless, so did he hope that Lucien's pride would save him from the beating that was approaching?

"It would seem that way, yes." Lucien muttered to the girl in response, before adding in a whisper. "Then you must work for it." He brandished his rapier exaggeratedly, motioning for the man to get on with it.

"Yes yes, if you win the deck will be swabbed, if you lose you shall clean it, and if the girl," He gestured to her. "If she manages to land the final blow, then I shall assist you in cleaning it. Have we finished, or do you require more time to draw up a contract?"

Lucien did not wait for a response, instead rushing forward and bringing his rapier overhead in a broad slash. It was an obvious attack, naturally, but that drew attention away from other parts of the body, such as the soft flesh of the stomach that Lucien launched his fist towards, seeking to drive the air out of his opponent's lungs.
 
Summer’s eyes widened at the revelation.

“What noble family?” No one had told her where they’d stop to restock yet. The nearest city was Goswick, but… Would they go there? Would Alys?

“Am I allowed to know why?” She asked, cautiously. So far, the people at the Hard Nox weren’t willing to share a lot of information with the new recruits. She couldn’t blame them, honestly.
 
Mr. Lucien finished their few moments of conference, and Pris nodded resolutely at his last statement. She didn't mind being told to work for things, really. Everyone else was supposed to. That was just part of being on the crew and not being a stowaway.

She didn't really have time to say anything else, because Mr. Lucien had launched himself forward without even really standing first, moving from his crouch into a rush and a sword swing that made her a little envious - well, that was okay. He had probably had more than two lessons, after all.

The fist towards the stomach made her giggle, though. Miss Alys had been very open about fighting to win. She'd told Pris about all sorts of places where a well-placed elbow or knee could do a surprising amount of damage. Of course, that all implied that she had a way to get that elbow or knee in there, and she was quickly learning that fighting with someone on your side was very different than fighting alone. Mr. Lucien took up space, and that meant she couldn't be in the same space. Also, it was probably best to stay out of his way, wasn't it? Since he was the one who knew what he was doing.

Argent would probably focus on him, fairly enough, so Pris didn't rush forward at all - instead she moved sideways, because Miss Alys had told her that if she ever had to stand and fight she was definitely going to lose, and that the best thing to do was get out of the way and hide somewhere, but if she had to fight, get out of the way and then come back in later and more quickly, and hope she could land a strike before she got noticed.

So she moved out of the way and came back in with her sword in a quick thrust - a thrust was when you put the pointy end directly in someone, a slash was when you did it kinda sideways - anyway: a quick thrust, at the back of the knee. Hitting someone's knee like that could do some real damage, Miss Alys said, and Pris didn't even really have to lean down to do it. Also, if Argent had to kneel, he wouldn't be any taller than Pris was, so that would be more fair, really.
 
Last edited:
A thrust to the back of the knee. The corners of her lips tilted upwards, and without looking away, Alys responded. "Goswick. It's beautiful this time of year."

It wasn't a lie. From what she remembered, the coastal town bloomed during the spring and summer. Seafood was abundant, the breeze warm and salty...

How awful that she was forced to return.

"Maybe you'll find out more if you agree," she said, shrugging casually. A moment later the fae turned, raising a brow. "Or are you refusing?"
 
Summer didn’t care about the fight that was going on, she was pretty sure Argent could handle himself. Perhaps they should be worried for Pris… But she guessed there wasn’t enough damage a broken broomstick could make.

“I’m a part of the crew, aren’t I?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. “I’ll do what the captain tells me to do. Or his First Mate.”
 
His opponents exchanged a few words, likely a brief discussion over his terms while he tossed the broken handle from hand to hand. Without rising Lucien uttered his agreement, signaling the beginning of the match by launching himself toward Argent across the deck. His sword came in high, as Argent stepped forward to meet the Navigator’s blade.

Dulled steel bit into splintered wood, the mop handle shifted into Argent’s right hand just before meeting Lucien’s blade in an opposing arc. The elf twisted his body to the right, his own free hand slamming into the side of the vampire’s fist with an open palm. The glitter of cold steel in the warm sunlight flashed in his periphery, a warning of the girl’s position and intent.

Lucien’s punch glanced off of Argent’s side, enough force left in it to cause the elf’s eyes to narrow against the pain as he dove, almost desperately, away from Pris’ blade. Twisted as he had been it was all he could manage to dive over her thrust, rolling hip over shoulder before coming to his feet.

His right hand rubbed where Lucien’s blow had landed, but his leg was unscathed. A small tear on the back of his breeches would have to serve as prize for the child; he knew she would be the one to keep his eye on. It wasn’t only that she wasn’t trained enough to know how to pull her steel. Argent couldn’t afford to shed blood in what was intended to be a spar.

There might have been a slight curl to the corners of his mouth, perhaps grin or grimace, as he pulled the pistol from his waist with speed and fluidity of a viper. There was no hesitation, only the soft -schink- of the hammer striking the empty flashpan with the barrel leveled at the little girl’s chest.
 
Ciaran poured the pair their drinks as Caleb laid out the basics. Hell, Goswick - the city had been rebuilt and garrisoned well since it's near destruction nearly a decade ago. If the navy got whiff of pirates at their docks, the Nox would see marines on their deck within the hour. "We'll need to be quick and quiet, the Nox - and every other ship in Goswick, will be impounded and searched as soon as the nobles are found dead, which brings us to that."

The old Fir'Bolg took a sip and let it settle and burn before he swallowed. "Getting into their castle and close enough to kill them - hopefully quietly and alone, is going to be exceedingly difficult. Who do we even send inside to do the deed? If anything goes wrong, a lot of us will end up dead." His eyes scoured the map, trying to trace a path through the city's layout. Getting in and out as quietly as possible was the key, otherwise they'd have corvettes trailing them.

"Caleb, are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, is there no other way?"
 


"Right. And what made you come to Lucien's aid, when I had his neck in my grasp?"

Emryk's gaze found Nessa, total and encompassing; warmed by fury, but not a scathing glare. He stared, arms crossed. "Fine. If you wish to die on that hill, fine. He isn't innocent. But he was damn near irrelevant to our plights until an hour ago, and his family is far more innocent than he is-- so are they fine to kill, too? By mere association with the man who is, by your judgement, so guilty?"

His brow furrowed, at that, with a tilt of his head. "If Lucien deserves mercy, then anyone else on this earth does, by that metric. I understand some people are condemned. I believe Solomon King is one of those people. But if we can avoid killing a damned bloodline and leaving a city to pick up the pieces, I'd prefer that over mindlessly giving into his commands. You've been how afraid Caleb is. How unready he is for this." An uneasy glance to Emer, at that. "How do you think something like this will affect him? What precedent this will set?"

 
Caleb drank a generous sip of the liquor in his cup, the only one he’d be having, just to take the edge off. He couldn’t get drunk, even if it would make him feel better.

The more he and Ciaran talked, the more he realized the odds of this mission turning into a complete disaster were… Too high. If it was Sinead in his place, would she manage to pull it off? He pushed the thought away, even if the words she would have said insisted on whispering into his subconscious.

“It’s either that, or killing King before the time limit he set for the curse runs out.” He lifted his hand, showing off the back of it. Perhaps Ciaran would’ve noticed the mark before, but it wouldn’t surprise him if he hadn’t. “Maybe it would be easier, if we had any idea of where that fucker is.” Caleb melted down on a chair, elbows on the table while his hands massaged his temple.

“We’ll need to set Lucien loose.” He said, begrudgingly. “Him and Nessa are the best options we’ve got. If he doesn’t decide to kill me first for putting him on a leash. In that case, it’s an abort mission.” He didn’t know what would be worse; feel that pain again until he felt nothing else or to have his blood drained by Lucien Kilta. To have his heart ripped out and his skull crushed. All options sounded equally awful.

“Get Alys in here.” Caleb reached for his cup and took another generous sip, before looking down at the remaining liquid. There wasn’t a lot of it left.
 
“Oh, and would Lucien’s crimes be lesser if he had a title to his name and soldiers to spill the blood for him?” Nessa said, her glare returning to Emryk, and holding firm there. After a moment she clicked her tongue. “Goddess fucking— fine. I said, I don’t trust King with that town any more than the Empire, and that’s true enough for common ground.” Nessa’s expression did not change, nor did she look away.

“A warning though, Emryk, if you get people thinking you care more about the lives of some nobles over your own, that is a thought that will fester within them. You can’t remove the Sinead from this ship if that’s the way you’re going to go about it. Fuck-up he might be, but not many on this ship would see the life of some Duke worth more than Caleb.”

Hell, did Sinead see things going this poorly once she passed down the helm to her second? Nessa raised her hand, waved away the air or perhaps just a rebuttal before it came. “If this is how it’ll be then fine, Goddess be, how do we go about killing someone without ending their lives? Drug them?”
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top