RP Pirates of the Hard Nox 2

A scoff was Alys' only reaction to Argent's suggestion, since both Summer and Nessa had shut it down before she could. She had no intention of walking in dressed as she was, much less to be escorted by Lucien to the depths of Goswick's prison. Being here was hellish enough.

With a solid plan in place, the group began to walk through the woods, the trees eventually growing sparse, towards the entrance of the guardhouse. Alys lingered behind the group, eyes peeled for anyone that might lend her a new wardrobe. She'd prefer a guard over anything - those dresses left little room to hide weapons or move as freely as she could with pants. But she supposed something was better than nothing.
 
It was dark, too dark to properly see their faces in the distance, but the uniforms lowered Francis’ guard. Francis was a fir bolg wearing the same purple fabric as the returning party; he was tall, blond, and loyal to the crown.

He let the two maids run past him, and nodded at every guard that followed behind. With them, there was a woman - a fairy - and whoever she was, she wasn’t properly dressed for the occasion.

“Who’s this?” He asked.
 
Lucien glared down at the fairy before raising his shoulder noncommittally. “As you wish. There will be plenty of tears at your funeral, I am sure.”

Suggestions came and went for their planned entrance. The silver-haired newcomer was swiftly shot down. It was a shame, Lucien would not have minded letting the captain’s second rot in a dungeon for a few hours. Alas, that she was the one most likely to release him from his bonds. The master gunner and the fledgeling both came up with decent infiltration plans, although Lucien was of the mind that this could have been finished by now had it been only the two vampires.

The news of a wedding was of noted interest to him, though. A royal wedding would mean an increased guard presence, perhaps one that could be stretched too thin. Not only that, but an increased attendance of royals as well. Lucien doubted that anyone there would recognize him, as few that had known his family had survived into his adulthood, and even fewer who had visited after that had left alive.

“If the hunger strikes, be cautious.” Lucien muttered, low enough so only the fledgeling could hear. “These gatherings are mostly an excuse for the attendees to get drunk on the family’s copper. I am not hauling a blood-drunk child to the Nox.” His tone was firm, yet not cold. He doubted that Nessa would actually succumb, nor would she probably drink enough to put her out of commission, but they both knew how low her tolerance could be.

They were stopped, naturally, at the entrance by a guard who noticed their one companion who looked as though she did not belong. While their fir bolg had claimed he would pull rank, Lucien preferred to handle matters himself.

"My apologies, sir." Lucien began, inwardly gritting his teeth against having to call this rat 'sir'. "One of the serving maids, she somehow managed to lose track of the time." He shot a glare towards Alys, partially to play the role of the exasperated guard, partially because he was truly exasperated with this situation.

"Fortunately she still made it in time for the reception. I'll inform the head of house so her wages can be docked accordingly after escorting her to the quarters to properly dress for the occasion."
 
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The guard didn’t know what to say. For once, he had no idea of who that man was or what was his rank, but that had been the new normal for the last few days, since the Floating Isles’ forces had joined them. For aesthetic purposes they had all changed into the colors of Goswick, a town that had been struggling for the past few years but wouldn’t anymore, due to the alliance the duke and the family were at that moment, forging with the crown. Or at least that’s what they were all hoping it would happen.

It was a happy day at Goswick, and the low rank guard, doing the work of a doorman, didn’t know if his companion spoke truth or if he was the mentioned dalliance, trying to sneak a commoner into the exclusive ceremony. He wouldn’t be the first to try.

“Wait here for just a moment.” He said after a moment of consideration, deciding it would be best to ask his superior what he should do in such a situation.
 
Ciaran had made it through easily enough alongside everyone - except for Alys, who lagged behind somewhat to keep her keen eyes on the ramparts for anything worth noticing. This naturally drew the eye of a sentry, a fir bolg no less.

Lucien tried to explain away their presence, but Ciaran could tell the man seemed unconvinced, or at least looking for somebody to tell him what was the right call to make. Time to shine.

He turned and approached briskly, straightening himself up and mustering what authority he had within himself. "What appears to be the problem here, Mr. Corbray?" Ciaran gave Lucien an amused yet annoyed look and hoped he'd follow along. "Fraternizing with the help, are we? I thought you'd learned your lesson, what will it be this time? It seems galley duty didn't stick." Ciaran glanced to Alys then to the other fir bolg. "Let them through, lad. They've wasted enough of the evening already with their foolishness."
 
The guard turned around to realize the captain of the guard wasn't there right at that moment. He'd have to go fetch him, but after being scolded by the second guard, he figured letting a small maid pass (maid or not), was probably not that big of a deal.

"Sure, go ahead." He said at the end, lowering his head and resuming his activities.
 
With a quick glance behind her back, Summer saw the guard let the others in. She kept walking as if she knew perfectly well where she was supposed to be, when she was in fact, following the lit up windows with silhouettes casting shadows over them, on the outside. The room she entered was empty and had nothing but rich decoration and a spiral staircase that would go both up and down. She could hear chatter from her left, where the ceremony was likely taking place.
 

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Goswick's nobility lived well, in their lavish home with cream columns and accents of gold. She might've stood in the foyer to take it all in, if it weren't for the blatant fact that she didn't belong. Even in Leimor, she'd felt somewhat comfortable, dressed in a way that'd mattered. But even if, or when, Alys was dressed the part, she'd never feel like she belonged here.

"I'm going to find a uniform, I'll be right back," she whispered to the group, stalking off in the opposite direction of the chatter. She didn't bother repeating the plan - they knew it well enough.

Keeping close to the walls, she walked quietly. Sealed doorways lined each side of the corridor, until she arrived at the woman's hall. She was on edge now, well, since stepping into the building, and eager to change before she got caught. So when the fae spotted a white dress, identical to the ones Nessa and Summer wore, she begrudgingly reached for it.
 
Lucien gritted his teeth and played along, making a mental note to let the master gunner take an extra bullet when the ruse was discovered. For the time being, however, the ruse worked and they were able to enter the manor free of harassment. The entire place set Lucien’s fangs on edge. It seems that the horrible tastes of the wealthy were a universal constant. Gaudy decorations were placed everywhere, flaunted as being tasteful.

It reminded him too much of home. The sweeping staircases and portraits lining the wall, combined with the sheer size of the place was too similar to the home he had burned to the ground. Feeling his skin crawl, Lucien tapped Nessa, blatantly ignoring Alys’s previously established buddy system.

“This way. The ceremony will not last forever.” He muttered, low enough to reach her ears and barely those of the other infiltrators. Not waiting for a response, Lucien strode down the hall, back straight, eyes scanning for anyone of note until he arrived in the saloon, pausing in the doorway to observe the area before moving in, staying along the wall. He was the help, he was meant to be glanced at briefly to reassure yourself before promptly ignoring him.
 
Perhaps she should have just come alone, this would have been much easier if she had simply left the others behind. Still, the group was able to get past the guard and enter into the opulence of the palace’s entrance hall. Maybe these people really did deserve to die. How could one justify lining their staircase with gold while those under their boot starved. Seemed foolish to think Goswick wouldn’t be better off without them, though she doubted they’d fare any better under King’s boot leather.

“Makes the merchant-barons look restrained.” She said under her breath with a click of her tongue. Still, her scowl only lasted a moment, emotions would be a fool of a reason to give herself away. At Lucien’s urging, Nessa’s gaze turned from one of the grand portraits to Summer, before she answered with her own faint ‘aye’ and slid into step behind him.

Nessa took the posture of a demure maid, her hands held clasped before her, her head bowed and eyes cast down. Her knife, helpfully, was only a flick of her wrist away.




I’m
 
Summer was wondering how she'd make this work when Alys assigned her to assist Nessa, but thankfully Lucien’s preferences were to her benefit. There was no better outcome than this.

“I’ll join you. It’s dangerous to go by yourself.” She announced, following after Alys on her search for a disguise.

She waited until they were alone. Summer was expected to give Alys some privacy while she changed, and she could use that time to untie the gun she had attached to her thigh without the first mate's knowledge. Luckily it was before she pulled it from under her dress that she heard the hurried footsteps into the women’s hall.

“There you are!” the girl with a stained apron and dark curls said, appearing in time for Summer to adopt a more carefree position in front of the door. “Thank the goddess I found you, they’re waiting for the flower girls! Where's the other one, is she with you?”

"She's... Changing." Summer said, pointing at the door behind her.

"Well, hurry up! I herd the bride and groom are already exchanging their vows!"

Apparently she'd have to stall a little longer.
 
The plan went to shit almost immediately, she learned, with Summer scampering after her and into the woman's hall. Displeasure masked her features, features that blinked back at her in the mirror. Alys was still struggling with her knife when a second voice called out.

Flower girls.

Rolling her eyes, the fae knew that joining the ceremony was practically suicide. She figured Summer would have enough sense to think the same way, though she didn't hear any indication that their little problem was being solved. So she waited silently behind the closed door, eager to give up hiding the knife. Seconds went by and still, no thud, no quiet yelp, so she turned to face the door, ready. If Summer didn't have the balls to do it, she would. It'd also mean that Summer was far more than a liability than she'd thought.
 
Summer signaled for the girl, who could not be older than what Nessa appeared to be, to wait for her to go get ‘the other one.’ She knew Alys would have heard the conversation but when she opened the door, she was surprised to see the displeased look on the blonde’s face.

“Got us a way in. Hurry up, get this off your face!” She whispered, gesturing at her nose ring.
 
"A way in?" Alys practically hissed, grabbing the girl by the shoulder to yank her into the small changing area. Once the door was closed firmly behind them, she wordlessly reached up to remove the ring because surprisingly, Summer was right about that little detail. "Have you lost your goddamn mind? Walk into the ceremony when they're expecting someone else? Someone will notice. Neither of us will be getting out without being caught."

"We take the girl, have her show us where the newlyweds will be celebrating their first night together. And then we wait." The happy couple would be expected to spend this time together, alone. No guards, no guests - two of five targets utterly alone. It could be that easy.
 
"I do believe that’s the ugliest wedding dress I’ve ever seen. Not even Maeve can pull it off.” The voice was quiet - undoubtedly too quiet for the particulars in question to hear, but to a vampire's sharp senses, it would certainly be audible.

"Mother." The return was half a hiss, somewhere between exasperation and warning.

"Oh, hush. Your sister would say the same thing. I haven't seen her yet, have you?"

"...Mother. She's dead. You were at her funeral. Please stop before you embarrass yourself. Again."

"Don't be silly, boy. I know that coffin was as empty as you do." The last had been even lower, almost inaudible even to the sharpest of ears. "Ah, I think I'll get some air. Do you know, that boy never did bring me my paint..."

Lucien and Nessa would be hard to surprise, of course, but they were presented with a faded older woman exiting the saloon they sought to enter, looking them over and contemplating their servant's attire with barely a glance at first, then a second one spared for Lucien. "Well. You're a looker, aren't you? No wonder they have you in tonight."
 
She could shoot her now.

No, that was a terrible idea. With the girl outside, even if her appearance changed there wouldn’t be enough time for her to make a safe escape, and… Part of her wanted to see it through. Not for Alys or her captain, but because the fairies deserved it.

“Five people, isn’t that right?” Summer said, trying to keep her voice quiet. “Do you know what they look like? I don’t. If this servant girl can’t tell we’re not the girls she’s looking for, I assure you none of the snobs will.” She touched the doorknob, waiting for Alys’ signal before turning the handle.

“If we capture this girl, we’ll have to kill her. Is that what you wanna do?” There was a hint of irony in her voice; a reminder of the empty promises made by her captain a few days prior. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

 
In a way, Summer was right. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she had no idea what the Duke or his family or the bride looked like. Granted, they shouldn't be that hard to distinguish, especially the woman in an undoubtedly frilly, white frock. Or the man hanging off her arm. And if she could just get into their room and wait it out...

She almost laughed in Summer's face. Trust her. Sure, a servant girl didn't recognize them, and maybe the noble family wouldn't, but their advisors? Those who'd planned this wedding? They'd know. Someone would realize. Maybe they wouldn't care, but was she willing to risk it?

"I'll do what it takes," she responded cooly, gaze narrowing. Even if it meant getting rid of a servant girl. Or an untrustworthy, lazy crew mate. It was the perfect opportunity. Not this very second, she couldn't get any blood on her pristine dress, but soon.

"You can't guarantee. And I don't plan on going to fucking jail or being executed." She paused, tilting her head slightly to the side. And waited to see what Summer would do, whether she'd do her goddamn job and listen.
 
For a brief moment it seemed that they were doomed to fail as soon as they had begun, the guard at the gate taking suspicion to Alys though Argent could hardly blame the man. It was more curiosity than concern that held Argent back in that moment, that same amused glint still twinkling in his eye when the First Mate’s excuses were accepted. He meandered with the group into the building nonchalantly, as though they all simply happened to be going in the same direction.

No sooner did Alys depart in search of proper attire than the plan fell apart. With Summer trailing off after Alys with surprising pep and the vampires slinking off into the ceremony proper Argent was left in relative silence with the Master Gunner. The soft music from the other room only served to tick the moments away; Argent had always been perfectly comfortable with silence. It likely took long enough to pass the point of awkwardness for Argent to recognize that someone should probably break the silence.

A soft scuff of his boot announced his intent before his mouth opened. ”On your lead, Sir.” It was a temptation to call Ciaran by his actual rank. ”I hope you’re more familiar with this family than I am.”
 
They'd cleared the gate easily enough, things were going smoothly. It was only natural that once they made it inside, they decided to split up to cover more ground. He wasn't against the idea, it would've looked quite odd to see half a dozen unknown faces wandering the halls together. Still, it was risky but they all knew that.

Optimism doesn't stop bullets, Ciaran.

There was a bad taste in his mouth - alkaline. In the silence between Argent and himself, he reached for his hip flask, spun off the top and took a quick swig. He let the firewater cleanse his palette, then he offered the flask to Argent. "Somewhat familiar, but I've never been in here before, only the resupply depot dockside." Close to a decade ago, he forgot to add. "Let's patrol upstairs, get a lay of the land and see if we can't find our captain." The master gunner peered either way down the hall, then began his brisk walk up the stairway.

"I don't suppose this is the first time you've worn royal colors, aye?" Ciaran looked over his shoulder at Argent as he ascended, also keeping an eye out for anyone following them.
 
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Nessa didn’t bother with warning Lucien about the approaching voices, if she had to do such a thing then their little plan was in far more trouble than she could have anticipated. Instead, Nessa placed herself along the wall, head bowed in something like reverence. A pair of guests or targets? Nessa turned her ear to listen for the sound of others approaching. If Lucien chose to make his move here, then she needed to know what eyes might see.

“Good day, madam.” Nessa said, keeping her voice small. “I hope you are enjoying the celebrations.” An older fae, from what Nessa could see with a slight tilt of her head. Couldn’t see the other voice, but they didn’t sound like much of a threat.
 
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