RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

Pris gave Mr. Lucien a nod. Perhaps the strangest thing here, to some, would be that she believed him. Oh, if they were fighting, it would be different, but they'd already had a fight and this was more just practice - practice and learning, and the only thing that lying would accomplish would be getting her to question who she trusted, and Pris already did that.

Besides, she didn't think he would have found it any fun, tricking her like that. He wasn't that sort of person. And even if he was... well, she supposed that was still better than having him going around being sad, which was what he'd been doing an awful lot of lately and pretending he wasn't.

She brought her guard up again, and this time when he moved she angled it to the left, catching his sword on hers, making sure to keep her body out of the way in case he forced it back. The strike was hard enough to make her wrists hurt, but all of them were, really. Miss Alys said she'd get stronger, if she kept practicing. Mr. Lucien's blade whirled away, coming in again from another direction. She tried to get her sword up to block that one, too, but wasn't going to be anywhere near in time. Lady Fingers flattened herself and pushed down on Pris' shoulder, so Pris ducked instead, hoping the blade went over them. Maybe it would, or maybe she'd just get bonked in the head. Hopefully not that, though - Miss Emer had a lot to say about people getting bonked in the head, and none of it was good.
 
As was usual, their first instinct was to deny that things had been better. They never felt more in control at any given moment, things never felt entirely comfortable, but... Emryk was right. What Juniper would call incidents had been less frequent, and while they had been getting angry, as far as their magic was concerned, all had been good. Maybe they had grown, and just hadn't noticed.

The offer to leave was something entirely unexpected, though. It was hard to think of a response, but given his tone and the fact that he left so soon after speaking, the changeling figured he hadn't been expecting one yet. Could they leave? They'd have to be sure Pris was safe, first. Should probably square things away with Alys, and let Emer know...

It was too much to consider at the time. They didn't have much time to do so, however, as soon after, Caleb arrived, and their eyes couldn't help but to be drawn to the mark on his hand. Their expression soured, and they nodded, but didn't offer anything in response. Odds were he knew how they felt about this already, and it likely didn't bear repeating.
 
Juniper didn’t look very happy to see him, so they were off to a great start.

A long, very uncomfortable silence filled the void between the two. Caleb had no idea of how to initiate this conversation without ending up cussed out or burned by Juniper, like it had happened the last time they tried to have a discussion. He found himself thinking, what would Alys do in that situation? She wasn’t in the best footing with the mage either, so maybe that wasn’t the best place to draw inspiration from.

“So…” He started, slowly walking forward to join them on the floor. “Is there any way I can convince you to come?” Caleb asked, his voice softer than usual and his gaze lowered. A white flag, attempted truce, whatever the changeling wished to call it.
 
It certainly wasn’t the sort of answer Argent was looking for, and a slight frown spoke of his dissatisfaction with Caleb’s response. As the Quartermaster passed, eyes distant and soundly preoccupied, the elf met Caleb’s stare with a shrug.

”I will prepare for the worst, then.“ He turned away, leaving the Captain to his business. It would be up to someone else to hope for the best.

He considered chasing after Emryk, though somehow his need for paper seemed secondary with the understanding of what was soon to be expected of him. There would be time to consult with the wisewoman afterward, he was sure, provided they made it through the assassination attempt in one piece. Besides, the scaled man had hardly seemed in the mood to deal with Argent again so soon.

Instead Argent searched for the Master Gunner, visiting the bunks and following the trail of sighting to the office doors next to the clinic. The voices inside were muffled, and predominantly feminine with the occasional bass of the Master Gunner’s replies. Argent tapped softly on the wood before opening the door, hoping against the odds that a better plan were being formed within than what the Captain had offered.

”Captain told me I’m to report to you,” Argent stated as an introduction, letting his gaze slide over Summer and Alys before settling on the man he sought.
 
Last edited:
The more and more they deliberated over this issue, the further from his nerve Ciaran strayed. How many needed to die to pull this off? Who was to say Solomon King wouldn't force Caleb on another suicide mission as soon as they pulled this off.

Something felt wrong in his stomach. This wasn't looting Fen Manor or defending their own against imperial guards - it was murder, plain and simple. Caleb was his captain, his - friend. Wouldn't he do the same for Emer, or Emryk, or Sliocht? Would they want him to? If they survived, he'd have to live with this. He wasn't sure if he could.

"We'll need a signal."

Her voice brought him back to the table and the map. "A signal, yes. Hmm, maybe colored smoke will do? I could load a clay grenade in my arm with a powder charge, it would be quieter than fireworks, a tad less bright too." Not entirely inconspicuous but reliable to see from the Nox. Soon after, a younger man approached - unfamiliar to Ciaran, but he knew the kind of man he was.

It was in his stance, his walk, and the way he carried that blade. More than just a pirate, he'd been brought up in this life - molded into a sailor and fighter. Now he'd found himself on the Nox, or maybe the Nox had found him. "Did he now?" The master gunner gave Alys an amused look as he rose. Then, his eyes moved to the sailor. "Ciaran, sorry to say I don't recognize you from the last batch of recruits. I take it you're a tad less green than most of these swabbies."
 
Everything considered about their new captain, the unexpected presence of mind to try to placate them was appreciated, even if they knew it wouldn't do anything for him in the end. Juniper made no move to stop him from taking a seat, but their gaze never softened, and they found their hand clenching around the ring again soon after he entered.

"No. We shouldn't go. Why are you helping King?"
 
His head dropped with a disappointed sigh, despite the predictability of Juniper’s response. Caleb took a deep breath, tired of answering a variation of this question so many times, but knowing he had no choice but to.

“Because I don’t wanna die, I really don’t.” He looked through the changeling’s glasses, trying to find an ounce of pity behind them. “Believe me, no one wants King dead more than me, but I gotta do this first. Nessa and Ciaran are coming…” He pursed his lips, cursing his pride before kicking it out the room. “Please, I need you to come too.”
 
Unfortunately, Juniper wasn't inclined to give any ground on the subject. "Yeah, I get that Caleb. But I don't think the Duke and his family want to, either. I don't think most people do, King included. Anything he wants us to do clearly isn't the right thing to do, no matter the circumstances. We shouldn't be helping him to get stronger." His pleading would fall on deaf ears, their mind made up. Helping Solomon King, after everything they'd been through at his hands, was more than a step too far.

Then, something else came to mind. How had that mark come about, anyways? Why had no one known, and why had they let someone under the thumb of the enemy become captain of the Nox? "How did you end up as King's little attack dog, Caleb? That's what I want to know. And considering what you're asking of me, I think I deserve answers."
 
Caleb instantly regretted going so low as pleading Juniper for their help. Why did he even think it would work? And after the baron had just spoken to them, undoubtedly making his opinion on the matter clear. So clear that it was his words leaving Juniper's mouth.

“Everyone cares so fucking much about the duke all of a sudden.” He complained, getting back up on his feet. Their follow up question, albeit reasonable, only made him angrier. “By being a fucking idiot and picking up a cursed knife, that’s how!” He paced back, stopping on his track to turn to Juniper again.

“You know what?” Caleb started, walking back towards Juniper as the words came to him. “I’d fight for you, like I did when you got captured by the Truth Teller. I don’t fucking care that you’re a whiny brat, I’d never sit around and watch you die if there was anything I could do to stop it!”

If Juniper had nothing else to say, he was ready to turn around and leave. He’d plead, but he wouldn’t beg.
 
Last edited:
Juniper remained unphased. Of course he would go off on them, of course he would try to turn some twisted sense of morality around on them to try to make them feel guilty. It was how it always went. "Yeah, I'm sure you would. Because I'm useful, right? Because I know you would've killed me without thought if I were a problem to you, or if King asked for it. I've started to notice, everything seems to be about you, about what's best for Caleb, instead of the Nox."

The changeling stood, walking towards the stairs, moving to pass by Caleb. "Doing what's best for Caleb is what got us here. It's what killed Sinead. It's what has us running errands for Solomon fucking King, the very man you said you'd fight to save me."

They stopped on the stairs, turning to look at the fool Captain. "Sinead told me, after I was rescued, that we'd never work with him. Since you are, I suppose that makes me the we. I'll be leaving, once we land. Maybe I'll have a tool for you for Naveen, though I'm not entirely sure you're not fucking him behind Alys' back, at this point."

Juniper's grip on the ring fragments finally loosened again, and with their piece said, they left up the stairs, in search of Alys.
 
”You could say that I’m on loan from the Cloud Cutter,” Argent replied as his eyes slid over the map on the table. ”I wouldn’t say I’m anything special, though.”



Despite the bestial nature of his Fir Bolg blood the Master Gunner had a gentleness to his demeanor that Argent had only half expected. He let his gaze return to the man and took an extra breath to take measure of what he saw before extending his hand toward Ciaran with a slight curve to the corner of his mouth.



”If there is anything I can do to help you have it.”
 
Alys returned the amused look, gaze darting from the master gunner to Argent, who somehow had enough balls to offer a handshake to the former. Far cry from the introduction he'd given her. Her expression soured at the thought, and she looked back down at the map, which was slowly becoming an unhealthy distraction meant to hide her emotions.

Quickly filling in their new addition on the current plan, Alys concluded with a look back to Ciaran. "Might be hard to see if we're going in tonight." She'd prefer otherwise - tomorrow night, perhaps - to give them all a chance to scout ahead, get some rest, but if they were meant to go tonight... either way, darkness masked coloured smoke well.

"Bring a flare, just in case." If they got desperate enough to use it, their cover was blown anyway.
 
Argent joined them, and Summer remained quietly watching from the corner of the room. The nerves were high, and the last thing she wanted was to bring attention to herself, but there was one thing no one was bringing up.

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to split into smaller groups?” She asked. “If we’re caught all together there’s less chance to succeed, and if the goal is to save our good captain…We should do what it takes to improve our odds.” Sacrifices would have to be made, or at least the possibility of it being the case was something people were willfully ignoring. But at least if they split into smaller parties, as soon as the news got out that there are intruders in the palace, the others would have a better chance of escaping.

***

That wasn’t true… Was it? He had sentenced Leo after all, and he had killed Sinead so he could be a better captain than she was. No one seemed to think that was the case, and at that point, not even himself.

As Juniper walked away Caleb’s stomach twirled and he clenched his fist, his untrimmed nails pressing hard against his palm. When he was finally alone at the gun deck he fell to his knees, reaching for his knife with his non-dominant hand and spreading his right over the wooden floor, before the tip of the blade touched the line between his brown skin and the black mark over it. Grinding his teeth he made the first cut, spilling blood in between his fingers. The pain wasn’t nearly as strong as the one the mark had caused, and he’d endured much worse throughout the last decade. It was the first time it had been self inflicted.

As he attempted to gruesomely skin it off, the memory of the bullet wounds, slices and arrow flashed vividly behind his eyes, not just the ones that had been afflicted to him, but the ones he’d afflicted himself. The thrust of a knife, Emer’s desperate cries. With his hand shaking and a two and a half inch of skin hanging over his exposed flesh, Caleb stopped cutting. The blood stained knife fell to the side as he curled up behind one of the cannons, raising his hands up to cover his sobbing face. He wasn’t alone. Her memory was by his side, a ghost of a woman telling him he should do better. Be a better captain.
 
What a fucking mess this all was. Nessa resumed the tapping of her heel as the sounds of voices from the office did very little to improve her mood. Plans for the raid no doubt, hard to argue that they shouldn’t have those things ready, but it was all so irritating. The sweetness prickled in the back of her throat —

It all just seemed like there wasn’t any sort of plan for the after, and it only served to worsen her mood to know that it wasn’t like she had any ideas of her own. She pressed her fingers to her lips as she pulled in a deep breath. The herbs were bitter, but that smell like fresh cut apples dipped in golden honey —

“Oh” Nessa said, her eyes going wide. She stared at Emer for a moment, lips parted between her fingers before the young vampire pushed off the wall like a taught spring came loose. She reached blindly for a cot, fingers taking hold of a sheet or a pillow or no it definitely was the pillow as she pressed it over her nose.

“Goddess bless — were they slaughtering a goat today?” Nessa said, a sharp voice muffled by the pillow. The smell wasn’t right, she knew the smell wasn’t right and they would have damn well told her besides. She stared at Emer, hoping perhaps for confirmation that it was just some animal whose luck had run short, but she knew it wasn’t. “Shit. Someone’s hurt bad.” Nessa hissed.
 
Ah, the Cloud Cutter.

Ciaran had hoped they'd left all that business behind them in Leimor - but no, it appeared they had stragglers. If only he was a stowaway, or Caleb still allowed crow cages. His expression remained the same, soured now - anyone looking could tell. "Right, nothing special?" Ciaran was incredulous.

As their hands locked, Ciaran pulled the man closer - not hard enough to hurt but certainly firm. He wished he could've squeezed his prosthetic tighter, but meeting Argent close enough to whisper was good enough. "If you're anything less than an absolute and loyal boon, I'll see to it you find your way back to the Cloud Cutter the long way." Ciaran was tired of being lied to by the crew of the Cloud Cutter. He would've loved to give this man the benefit of the doubt, but his patience was already razor thin.

His attention turned back to Alys. "I wouldn't advise it either, we'll need at least a day to scout our routes on the ground. There's only so much you can glean from maps." He gave the map a ginger tap with his metal finger. "Flare, burning bright and colorful. If we're made, I'll make sure you can spot us."

"We should include the captain in our plans, and put forward names for this undertaking."
 
There was a slight scuffing sound from Argent’s boot as he was pulled in closer to the Master Gunner. For a moment their meeting had been a brief relief from the hostility Argent had come to expect, but with Ciaran’s words and hardened gaze that hostility was laid bare again. The elf couldn’t blame the Nox for it; kidnapping tended to put people on edge. He would have to thank Aamir profusely for that.



Summer’s suggestion seemed sound, which gave Argent pause as he was released from the prosthetic grip. Given that she had refused any real effort thus far he had hardly expected a thoughtful suggestion. As for O’Cain’s First Mate, Argent’s eyes slid over Alys in favor of the map.



”Smaller groups would make the most sense. A few new faces among the guards could be explained away, but the higher the number the more likely such a ruse would be figured out.” He offered his opinion with a hand drifting to his chin thoughtfully, slightly mumbled as if he were merely thinking out loud.



”Mirrors might be a quieter, more directed signal than flares or smoke. Even if everything goes right the Nox will need to know when we are ready for extraction.” Argent considered offering more but was distracted by a bit of information that had been delivered offhandedly. His purpose here was to gain O’Cain’s trust, but apparently the Captain’s crew was out to save him. If he made it through Caleb’s challenge Argent felt he might need a bottle to go with the truth he had requested.
 
He couldn’t stay like this for long. Blood had started dripping to his sleeve, but before it got too bad, Caleb untied the red bandana covering his forehead and wrapped it around the wound.

An epiphany came to him sometime during his breakdown, calming down his nerves as a consequence. Caleb wiped the tears off his face, picked up his knife and stood up, going up the stairs closest to his quarters. If anyone saw him dart through the ship’s hallways, they weren’t able to stop him from getting to his room and locking the door behind his back.
 
"If everything goes right, you'll march right out and meet us in the woods, exactly as you went in. And if you don't, light up your flares," Alys muttered, eyes shifting to look at Argent, who had already been looking at her.

Splitting into groups wasn't a terrible idea - they could cover more ground and all get some blood on their hands. But the thought made her nervous. "Well, Captain said Argent's with Ciaran, and he's with Nessa, which leaves you...-" She turned to look at Summer. "With Lucien."
 
Summer smiled and raised her chin at Alys’ conclusion. Sure Lucien wasn’t great company, but at least he had that bracelet. Plus there would be plenty of people there for him to suck the blood out off besides her if he wanted to.

“I’ll take care of the wolf, let him loose if needed. It only takes getting the bracelet off, right?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, when are we going?”

***

He didn’t have bandages in his room, so Caleb did the second best thing: picked up pair scissors from his desk and cut the bandana’s fabric to form a thinner strip. Carefully stretching his skin back to where it belonged, he tightly closed the wound with the strip with as much dexterity as he could muster with his left hand.

The next thing he did was open the chest beneath his bed and pick up the pair of white gloves, that had turned a shade of cream with time. His hands had grown since the last time he’d put it on, but it stretched enough for it to fit and would help keep the makeshift bandage in place, even if it hurt a bit whenever he moved his fingers.

Caleb returned to his desk, staring at the mirror intently with the scissors nearby. It was after a long breath that he picked it up and began chopping his curls off, until his hair was the shortest it’d ever been. He hated it, but at least it made him look less like himself. After washing away some of the blood and changing into the cheapest clothing he owned, there was just one more thing left to do.

He removed his eyepatch and put it in his pocket. One final stare at the mirror and he noticed with bittersweet content that he would be completely unrecognizable, if it wasn’t for the pair of bright orange wings behind his back. With as many fairies as there were in Goswick, hopefully it would go unnoticed.

He hid his sharpest knife on his boot, and a syringe he had found that should’ve been returned to Emer a long time ago, but it was probably for the best that it hadn’t.

Alys would kill him for this, but Juniper was right; he had fucked everything up. Leaping from the window of his room and spreading his wings, he found himself wishing he’d make it back to apologize.
 
Pairs seemed the best way to move forward. Ciaran wasn't so sure about placing so much faith in the newcomers, especially without knowing where their true loyalties laid. He wasn't sure if it was in Caleb's best interest to send those two, but then again with the tension onboard it seemed like there were more than a few who wanted to be left out of such business.

Silently, he'd curse them - but part of him couldn't blame them. This was devil work, furthering the agenda of a hostile third party who was holding their captain by the throat. The Nox would never fly free with King's shadow looming long over it's captain and crew - but, he couldn't leave. Ciaran wouldn't give up on Caleb and the Nox. Even if it cost him his soul - his honor.

This needed to be done.

Summer seemed oddly comfortable being paired with Lucien, time would tell if she changed her tune or not. "Ideally, after a day of reconnaissance. Question is, how long do we have before things turn for the worse?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top