Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

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ILLIRICA

"I don't like tea," Sinéad answered, almost ritually, as she always did. She still always drank it when Emer handed it to her. Once, she'd been someone who liked tea - a floral-scented cup of delicate porcelain on a saucer in a bright and airy library... but that person was as good as dead, and the person Sinéad was now wasn't going back to it. Perhaps drinking the tea was just masochistic, because of the pain it brought - or perhaps she still liked it, somewhere buried under all these countless bodies.

Her attention turned to Torrel, with a hint of a frown. "Hm." It wasn't a pleased sounding noise, but it likely wasn't expected to be. Alive was something, wasn't it? Alive, but mutilated, with injuries that would tear them away from the life they had built. Sinéad wasn't inclined towards sympathy, but sometimes it was hard not to be.

"I'll talk to them, when they wake. Come get me, whenever it is. Can they be moved? We'll be attacking soon and I think it would do well to have your mat empty."
 
ANNASIEL

Emer rose, feet silent even on the creaky boards, moving over to the kettle - already full with water - and sliding it over the stones. Sinéad never said she liked tea, but Emer thought she might've seen a ghost of a smile now and then whenever the captain drank it.

"They should be safe to move to their quarters by tonight, though I would prefer to be present for that, to make sure their injuries aren't aggravated."

That would be a little while after the sleep would wear off. Earlier would be possible - but Emer wanted to be here when they woke, if only to hold their hand when they learned what became of them.

"Another attack? So soon? A wounded kestrel is a wild pike's lunch, Sinéad. The crew is still recovering. Are you sure that's wise?"
 
ILLIRICA

"It's a risk worth taking," the Captain answered. Of course, different people had different ideas of worth taking, that was to be sure. She shook her head, undaunted. "We have a chance to take down the Truth Teller. That sort of chance doesn't come around often - or ever. If we take them out before they reach port, we'll be able to take back everything they stole."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, King is a rabid dog. Someone needs to put him down. You can pretend it's altruism, if you like." They both knew that would be a pretense - but the chance to test her crew and her blade against someone like the Truth Teller's captain? That was something Sinéad was definitely interested in.

"And who knows what else he has on board, hidden away. Maybe there's something that will make a difference."
 
ANNASIEL

Everything he stole.

"Is it true, then?"

She pulled two tin mugs from her cupboard, then set aside some dry leaves from a jar, setting to chopping them into slivers. Sweeping the leaves into each cup, she glanced over her shoulder at Sinéad.

"Soren, Juniper. They were taken?"

There were many reasons to attack the ship, many reasons more to cut their losses and leave. Their captain was not the woman to do the latter - and doubtless wouldn't have been even if a possibility of gaining back their lost crew wasn't there, but that no doubt sweetened the choice all the more.

The kettle began to whistle. Taking it off the stones, Emer slowly poured water into each mug.

"I heard a girl from that ship had come to us, as well."
 
ILLIRICA

Sinéad nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. "It's true, yes. I don't know if they're alive or dead. Or... otherwise. It would be a damned shame to see them again just to have to put them down, but I suppose if King's turned them into his creatures that'll be the best any of us can do by them. If they're still alive we'll do what we can to take them back." King didn't deserve her people - they were her crew, and if she couldn't get them back, she was going to make sure no one got them.

"The girl's name is Hester. She's the only reason we have a chance. She might be leading us into a trap, but at least it's an interesting one." Sinéad took a seat on the floor, in an empty space - half cross-legged, but with the top knee vertical rather than horizontal, an easy position to spring into action from should a threat appear. One could say that there weren't likely to be threats on the Hard Nox, but that was the sort of thinking that got captains killed. Threats were everywhere - no matter how innocent something seemed, or how trustworthy.

"You'll meet her sooner or later, I'm sure. She seems like she can follow orders well enough, at least until she decides there's bluer skies elsewhere. Interesting young lady. Smells like half a corpse, though. You have peppermint oil in those bottles of yours, or do I need to see about finding some?"
 
ANNASIEL

"Hm."

Emer kept her back on the captain, focused on the tea while it steeped. Some people said a watched pot never boiled - and, perhaps, a similar saying could be said for leaves in tea - but that was a saying for the impatient. The water was already darkening as she watched, and by the time she spoke again, the swirling needles at the bottom were barely visible.

"I suppose you're the last person I should ever have to warn about being careful. And yet, somehow, it also feels you're always the first," Emer said, picking up both mugs, handing one to Sinéad, and then joining her, not on the stool where she'd been perched before, but cross-legged on the floor. She blew at the cup and frowned.

"When I speak of fate, it may not be the stirrings in the wind, but the fingers of men causing leaves to dance. All this may be a cause to lure you in. You're as much a prize to him as he might be to you."

Emer raised the glass to her lips and sipped. Far too hot, yet.

"Of course, you have already considered this. And, of course, you will still charge in headlong, as you do."
 
DELFI

Caleb walked around the ship making sure things were in order, but it was actually just an excuse to try and find Alys. It was too much of a coincidence that they hadn't run into each other the entire day, enough for him to guess she'd been avoiding him. He heard panting, as if someone had been struggling to lift something heavy - a female voice - and Caleb rushed to check on it. It wasn't the fairy he was looking for, but the necromancer, dragging a dead body into a cabin.

"Want some help with that?" He asked, but didn't wait for a response as he bent over to pick up the man's feet. He'd throw it over his shoulder if the wisewoman hadn't advised him against lifting weight, or it could reopen his wound. He wouldn't have time to get new stitches before the attack, so it was better not to push it.
 
ILLIRICA

Sinéad accepted the cup and the advice, liking neither. "I'm hardly a prize to anyone, Emer." The words were bitter; the tea was sweet but it burned. There was no doubt a price on her head, but a prize was not the same as a price. One was a matter of competition, the other a matter of convenience.

"I'll be cautious." It was not the same as careful, and they both knew it, but it was as close as Sinéad was likely to come. "Cautious enough, anyway. It's been a while since we fought in the sky." Her lips curved, in something that was perhaps a real smile, if one trusted it to be. "With the ships rocking in the turbulence - no solid ground, and the wind curving all around us..." Her tone grew wistful, something lost. She shook it off and took another drink of tea, not bothering to blow on it: holding it on her tongue and letting it scald until the sentimental moment was burned away.

"No matter. I'd rather be someone else's fate than worry about my own."
 
ANNASIEL

There was little to be said when the captain's mind was made. She had the will of an oak, when she rooted her feet, and nothing short of death itself could make her leave. Emer sighed, blowing again on her tea and taking another cautious sip.

"Did Fionn seek you out?" she said, changing tracks. There was a sense of a stringent tone in the last topic as well, something Emer knew not to press on. "Mal and I had found him attempting repairs on the ship in the middle of the raid, of all things. Such an odd thing to do - I think him a little not right in the head, but well-meaning."

Emer chuckled.

"Mal was half-ready to string him alive. They often have a temper, but they were downright furious - I thought I could hear the air boiling."

Another, deeper sip.

"I'd left them with Mal when the injured came. I presume they sought you after, suitably cowed?"
 
ILLIRICA

"Ah, so you both had a hand in that, did you? Yes, he sought me out. It was a bit of a surprise, since no one had mentioned he was on the ship." Her voice lingered somewhere between amusement and condemnation - of course, the two were often merely opposite sides of the same coin. "If he's the woodworker he claims he is, we can use him. There's always call for repairs, it seems. I set him to follow Mal around and learn the ropes - figured it was likely to piss the both of them off." Enough, perhaps, that Mal would think twice before there were any more unannounced strays.

"And Mal will keep him from doing anything too untoward to the ship, I suppose." Sinéad took another drink from the teacup, which had cooled enough now that it was no longer painful. A pity, but an unavoidable one - as were so many things in life.

"Mmm.... I think your punishment will have to be training Hester in. See if you can make a week together."
 
ANNASIEL

A slight smile had quirked its way onto Emer's lips as well, hidden by the rim of her cup.

"My apologies for that, I had my hands tied before you'd even returned."

Good news that Mal hadn't taken the poor thing apart. Emer didn't think they would've - but then again, Mal was Mal, and anything was possible.

"Hm. I suppose I could train this Hester." She made an effort to seem bothered by the 'punishment,' but it wasn't a particularly strong effort. They were a stranger yet, but Sinéad had chosen to take them in, which made them a part of the crew. Emer could even enjoy the company, and Hester, as well, would doubtless enjoy Emer's idea of 'training in' more than scrubbing decks for hours or dangling in the crow cages. "What skills do she bring?"
 
ILLIRICA

"She's one of King's necromancers." There was no sense avoiding the topic, after all. "She has a small... construct. Made of bones, or at least it appears to be. Perhaps she's merely a particularly good puppeteer, but I doubt King would have had her if that were the case. She's literate - likely in more languages than one. I don't know if she has any idea what to do with a living body, but I'd guess she has a better idea of how to fit things together than most of our crew." That included the captain herself, for that matter. Sinéad's knowledge of anatomy wasn't quite limited to what it looked like on the end of her blade, but she hadn't made a particular study of it either, beyond effectiveness.

"It wouldn't hurt for you to have an assistant at times - rather than just whatever pair of hands happen to be the closest. Might be best to keep Nessa out for a while. Lucien mentioned that she'd had a moment. People fear the surgery enough without the consideration of a half-crazed vampire holding them down while you stitch them together. Have a word with her, though, when you have a chance. I don't want Lucien to be the only influence on our young thiefling."
 
UMBRASIGHT

After extracting herself from Lucien’s room, Nessa returned to her own, though the stalked through the halls with no particular haste. Something on her mind perhaps lagged her step, or her energy all spent between an early morning and ravenous afternoon, though the reason why didn’t really matter. No one bothered her, so she bothered no one in return. Her room was empty when she arrived, so with a sluggish hand she readied herself for bed. She peeled off her torn shirt, dropping it to the ground as she walked to the room’s water basin, with little focus she washes the dried blood from her skin before pulling on a fresh blouse and draping her heavy cloak over her shoulders.

She dropped into her bunk, pulling her hood over her eyes and curling into a tight ball. The sun stubbornly clung to the horizon as the black of sleep mercifully drifted her mind away.

~~—~~—~~—~~—~~

How long she slept, Nessa didn’t quite know, but her eyes flickered open as the day’s last light bled itself on the edge of the horizon. Groggy, Nessa lifted herself up into a sitting position, before lifting her arms up over her head in a long luxurious stretch. It seemed that Alys hadn’t attempted to slip a blade between her ribs as she slept, so that had to be worth something. She could still feel the scratch in the back of her neck, but it was a dull sort of hunger that she had spent her life ignoring. She slid out of her bunk with a yawn, slipped on her boots, and walked out into the hall.

With no particular destination in mind, Nessa moved silently down the tight corridors, aiming to make her way up to the deck. Or, perhaps get stopped by some other crewmate as she went. Whichever came first.
 
ANNASIEL

A necromancer.

Not the most becoming of occupations, not the most applicable to medicine, but it certainly implied a level of understanding of the body beyond what many could attest. If Emer ever caught her raising the deceased from the clinic beds, however, she would not be welcome back.

The wariness was obvious on the wisewoman's face, gaze momentarily vacant.

"An assistant could be nice, if she knows how to listen more than speak," she finally said, taking another sip and setting her mug down on the floor beside. "And if she promises to tend the living over the dead."

As for Nessa -

"A mistake on my part. I asked the girl for help in the moment, my mind distracted. I must say, though, I admire her resolve to leave the room after. I haven't seen half the resolve in Lucien, despite him claiming a greater age." Unlike the unannounced guest and subsequent punishment, Emer sounded genuinely guilty. She hoped the girl wasn't too stressed by the encounter. Yes, people under the knife would be afraid of her - but in that moment, she had seemed afraid as well. Though they came from the same kin, her and the hound were quite different. There was a humanity about her. A - normalcy.

"I'll speak to her, both for guidance and apology. She never should have been there to begin with."
 
ILLIRICA

"It's a charmed life that never ends up somewhere it shouldn't have been to begin with," Sinéad retaliated. "But... yes. Her resolve is admirable, though I think you discredit Lucien somewhat. He has more resolve than you would think - he's just more willing to bury it when it suits." She took another drink of tea, thinking about the blood of a dead child. No doubt he'd tell her what it tasted like, if she asked. Perhaps even if she didn't - but she wouldn't ask. One didn't taunt a hunting dog with the memory of a bone, after all.

"Nonetheless. One of him is all I need." She tilted the cup back, draining the last of it, cooling floral notes gone too soon to turn bitter. The cup lingered at her side, dangling from idle fingertips, and Sinéad half-rose, moving over to squeeze the vila's arm, only for a moment, then standing and handing the cup back. "I won't thank you for this. But for that..." A nod to the unconscious Torren.

"I appreciate it, Emer. I know you did all you could."
 
ANNASIEL

Emer nodded.

All she could was rarely enough, it seemed, but everyone had their limits, and it was foolish to push oneself to strain past them until one inevitably snapped. Accept what you have.

Be grateful for what is.

The wisewoman took the cup with one hand, her other momentarily resting on the captain's arm.

"It could do well for them to know, sometimes." She didn't say what, simply letting the moment fill secluded silence. "But that isn't you. Not to say it, not with words, and never where they'll tell."

She withdrew the hand, glancing again at Torrel. Best to let them rest, before the time came to wake them.

"I'll go find Nessa, or Hester. Whoever I cross first. Safe travels, Sinéad."

---

Nessa, it seemed, was the way she'd blown. The girl was wandering the lower decks somewhat aimlessly, still yawning in the back of her hand.

Probably just awoken, judging by the time.

"Nessa," Emer called as she approached, giving a quick wave. "Could we talk?"
 
UMBRASIGHT

Her feet, it seemed, didn’t point deckward today but that was fine by her. It was nice to just walk sometimes, to help to move the slower hours of the night along, and as exciting as the Nox made herself, the hours could pull themselves long with only the night's watch to keep company. For now, just moving felt stimulating enough. Better than Lucien trying to give her another dressing down, anyway.

Her ears perked at the sound of someone approaching. A lighter step, not weighed down by weapons or marauder boots, and she looked back over her shoulder, batting away a yawn as her name was called. Emer out of her clinic? Must of meant the Vila — what was their name? — was stable, though that passing thought left behind a smudge of bitterness.

“Emer, morning.” raising a hand to return the wave. Nessa cleared her throat at the question if they could talk. Her lips split “Ah, I’m sorry about… I hadn’t meant to, uh.”

Nessa cleared her throat, before releasing a quick puff of air. Coherency would be nice. “Right, sure I can.” she answered.
 
PAPERWORK

Hester rarely slept well; that night had been no exception. Before, she'd've been up pacing her quarters or reading, but sharing a cabin meant she no longer had any such luxuries. She'd been left staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to finish its slow crawl up the other side of the horizon.

When the day had finally come, she'd been very ready to get up and do something else. The crew had little in the way of spare bones, but a few of King's undead had gotten trapped on the ship. They'd been destroyed, of course, but their corpses hadn't been thrown overboard by the time she got to them. It didn't take much to convince them to leave off. And then she'd been faced with the prospect of dragging them back to the room she'd set up for her purposes.

It was there that she realized the problem with her plan. This ship didn't have a standing crew of revenants, waiting for orders from one of King's chosen. And the corpse, already partially decomposed, had been left out in the rain for too long; it'd gotten soggy. It seemed very unlikely that the crewmembers, having been sent away once, would come back for anything less than a direct order from the captain. She'd have hardly volunteered in their place.

Well, nothing for it. She got her arms under its elbows, expression set in a mask of grim determination, and began to pull.

[...]

The mask lasted all of about five minutes. By the time Caleb found her, she'd been mumbling curses under her breath for another five, and breathing harder than she had in a while. She'd forgotten just how heavy an adult corpse could be.

"What?" By the time she'd fully processed what was happening, Caleb already had the thing by its legs and was helping it along."Oh. Yes. Hello. Thank you." Alone, the journey most likely would have taken her several more minutes, and would have left a snail-trail of slime behind her to clean up later. Instead, with his help, it took one. That was nice. She'd been starting to worry.

The cabin's contents had been piled to one side to make room for a circle, drawn on the floor in chalk. It wasn't anything fancy; no ornate pentacles or bizarre, ancient languages. Just a circle, with a little bowl of nails nearby. It was easily big enough to fit the corpse.

"Just need to get Cecil here into that," she nodded at the circle, "and then you can get back to whatever it was you were doing." Her voice was low, tired, and faintly irritated. Which was weird; she didn't feel irritated, though she did somehow doubt he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart.
 
GOLDEN

I don't understand a fucking thing.

The statement launched the two into a rabbit-hole of unforgettable tales; mostly Ciaran's experiences aboard the High Nox (good, bad, and ugly), but also some of Alys' adventures prior to joining the infamous crew. With each new story came a refill; while nearly every sentence was followed by a sip. Suddenly a heavy knock at the door disrupted the flow, both of the conversation and the ale. Alys emerged from the cabin with a rosy hue on her cheeks, while Ciaran followed after her unsteadily, the pair leaving behind two empty glasses and a half empty keg. Without any food in her belly, Alys would later regret the decision to get so pissed, especially so early in the afternoon.

Her attendance at the meeting would also be regretful, although getting some lukewarm stew had been a plus. She found herself staring at the new, interesting looking fellow for prolonged periods of time. The woodworker with the round face. A very round and smooth looking face. The only thing that restrained her from strolling up and touching that face - to see if it was really that smooth - was the simple fact that Sinead stood beside him, controlling everyone else's attention. The captain was quite intimidating, wasn't she?

Several hours after the meeting, Alys would need to ask a fellow crew member to repeat what had been said, because she sure as hell had not been in the state of mind to listen and comprehend Sinead's words. Still tipsy, Alys nearly fell over after learning that they were willingly choosing to follow the Truth Teller, and that in a matter of twenty four hours, they were meant to attack it. In fact, if she hadn't felt the urge to hurl the contents of her stomach over the side of the ship, she would've marched right back to Ciaran's cabin for a second round. Because holy hell, she'd had quite the day.

Fortunately, she sobered up enough to prevent further mistakes from being made. She even made two very inconspicuous trips past Emer's quarters in an attempt to fix the first mistake of the day. Lucky for her, Caleb had company the first time around, and was later moved to his private cabin. Once she made it to her own room, head still attached, heart still beating, blood still pumping through her veins, Alys began to convince herself that maybe Caleb hadn't opened up his big mouth. Perhaps she was safe. Then, of course, she saw Nessa's sleeping body, and remembered what had happened earlier that day, which spiked her paranoia once more. Hell, she couldn't get away from it. As she prepared for an early night, she found herself missing the dagger that had been left behind in Fen Manor for a third time. Fortunately, with her pistol hidden beneath her pillow, exhaustion prevailed over her racing thoughts, allowing Alys to fall into a deep, and much needed sleep.

----------

Less than a day later, Alys sat in a similar position as she had prior to the attack on Fen Manor. Only this time, she sat on the opposite side of the ship, purposefully avoiding a certain Quarter Master. Although she awoke completely sober, not all logic and reason had returned. She blamed the ale and its aftermath for her current actions, which she equated to those of a scared little girl. What could she possibly say to him to explain her actions? As the cool air tasselled the strands of hair not contained within her braid, Alys looked on ahead in dread. Much like the feeling Emer had a day earlier, the young faerie couldn't contain the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
 
DELFI

"That's what I'm doing," Caleb said, letting go of… Cecil's legs. Something in the room smelled foul; probably the corpse. He twitched his nose, wiping his palms on the side of his trousers. "Helping you with… Whatever the fuck that is. It'll be able to fight, right?"

While waiting for a response, Caleb took a look around the place. He didn't go in the girls' cabin often, but he was pretty sure Alys and Nessa wouldn't be happy when they saw how Hester had rearranged the furniture.

"What can I do to make you finish it faster?" He asked. Sineád would call for them to initiate the strike at any time, but more than to worry about if the necromancer would be ready by then or not, he wanted to figure out her character. She wasn't bad to look at, but looks could be deceiving, and Caleb had his doubts if she might be working for King and sending them straight to the slaughter.
 
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