Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

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UMBRASIGHT

“I…” Nessa blinked at the offer. She could vaguely remember Lucien mocking the idea of her come begging to a crewmate for a taste of blood, but what care did she have for whatever sort of pride he took in treating each fight like a king’s feast. Nessa’s gaze fell on Emer's arm as the wisewoman made her offer, one that brought saliva to the back of her mouth. She swallowed hard, with that guilty sort of feeling one has after thinking on how easy it would be to push a friend over the precipice of a cliff.

“That’s very generous,” Nessa looked back up as Emer placed a hand on her shoulder, confliction tight on her face. She paused a moment more before speaking, picking her words with care. “I think it would be… tempting the fates for me to deny your offer.”

“Hunger isn’t new to me, you know, I was hungry before but now — this — it’s different. But you shouldn’t —” Nessa paused again, and shook her head. With a breath she set her eyes on Emer’s. “If I ask for more after enough to wet my throat, deny me. If I ask too often, do the same. I don’t think scratching the itch too much makes it better.”
 
PAPERBAG FILL

Soren's entire frame slammed into the wall. His entire body flared in a singular heat of pain and his head thundered like a throbbing, racing heart. His shoulder cracked and thundered with pain as his ribs simply sent shock after shock spreading throughout where Leo had struck from. And yet, the pain could not hurt him anymore, could it? He been enduring pain for a long time now. Now, it only fueled him as he growled before reaching out, grabbing ahold of Leo's body and clothing. Grabbing whatever he could with his fingers and hands, even clawing through skin and flesh to assume any kind of grip.

Taking inspiration from his giant cousin brethren, Soren would seek to lift the entirety of Leo's body over his head while using the wall as the only other support besides his one good leg and his injured, nearly useless limb. Before forcing his entire body to throw its weight and momentum forward with his arms to throw Leo across the cell and into one of the walls in return. The entirety of the effort would force Soren to his knees.

His arms would leg holding himself up but his ragged breathing and the heat across his body burned him so. His nerves nearly numb to the throes of the torture mind and body endured. And yet his body recognized the strain nonetheless, as some cruel joke to be played against him. Soren nearly fell to a crawl, shaking as he kept trying to breath. His entire body panting relentlessly, lungs working sore to keep air moving in and out, while his vision shook more and more violently with every second. Sweat soaked him completely, looking and smelling like a homeless, mangy mutt.

". . . rngh."

Soren's eyes and head tried to slowly bring themselves up, trying to see if he managed anything with the effort, as his eyelids flickered between open and close.
 
FANG

Leo’s grin slipped away moments after the larger man slammed against the wall, his instincts too slow to prevent those massive hands from grabbing him like a toy, lifting him bodily and sending him hurtling through the air like a sack of rubbish. To his credit Leo managed to twist his body away from the brunt of the impact, absorbing the force as he hit the wall of the cell with legs first before his torso followed suit.

The air was driven from his lungs at the impact, arms splayed as he slid down the wall to the floor. His first attempt to stand yielded no results, his legs all but numb from the shock of the sudden collision. Shakily he forced his feet to hold their place, hand on one knee as he gasped a few quick lungfuls of air. Black edged his vision momentarily, but he leveled his gaze back at Soren with sheer force of will, allowing his grin to slide back into place as he stood to his full height.

With a sharp cry Leo ran at Soren, the distance too short for full momentum but long enough to hit a decent stride. One, two, three steps and he launched himself into the air, twisting to catapult himself at the other’s chest with both feet in the lead. The big man was wounded, winded, and already seemed nearly done with the fight. Leo hoped silently that no more blows would be needed to put the man back into slumber, the last thing he needed was injuries to match Soren’s own. In the moment there had been nothing but the two combatants in Leo’s mind, but a small thought warned him that the other prisoners could prove more deadly than the one he faced when the deed was done. Further injury would surely lower his chances of escape, and probably theirs by proxy.
 
ANNASIEL

"Of course," Emer replied smoothly, withdrawing her arm and folding it back beneath her shawl. "I won't go past what I'm able to safely provide."

She smiled, now, the lines reaching her shadowed eyes, twinkling despite the tiredness.

"What you are and who you are are two very different things, and between the two, the who is far more important. I don't want you looking to Lucien and thinking yourselves of the same pot. Though many of the ingredients may be the same, it is the quality of the cook that defines the broth, hm?"

Emer turned, glancing over her shoulder.

"I dare say I will be busy before the night ends, but if you would like, we can do our little deed early morning, before the rest of the crew wakes and before you rest?" One hand slipped out of the shawl, a finger pressing to her lips with a wink to follow. "It can be our secret."

Giving in would doubtless be embarrassing for the girl, equal parts embarrassing to accept help with such a visceral matter. Emer assumed Nessa wouldn't care for others to know - especially the man she'd defiantly told she could control herself.
 
ILLIRICA

The ship smelled of death.

It was auspicious, but still unpleasant. It seemed that Hester was the culprit on that particular affair - Sinéad made a mental note to have a discussion with her about that at some point. This wasn't the time for it, though - it would have to wait until later, as well as the young woman's inauguration.

Those were matters for another time, though. Caleb passed along the bit of advice that the prisoners were what were powering the invisibility spell on the Truth Teller, it seemed in some sort of sacrificial ritual. No doubt that was crucial information to have - he was good at his job, when he wasn't contemplating hers.

He was too soft, though. Sinéad rewarded his comment about rescuing everyone with a stare and a slow blink. There was a far simpler way of ensuring that King didn't have access to his invisibility spell, after all. She clapped Caleb on the shoulder, gave him a nod, and decided to let him figure it out.

"Round them up and bring them above decks, will you? It's time to get started. And don't stress that wound overmuch." She still had yet to hear the story from Alys about how her quartermaster had gotten himself cut up so badly - but he was walking, and there were those of her crew who weren't, and her focus had needed to be elsewhere.

Taking the helm, she steadied the ship once more, the medallion close at hand. The sky was dark, the air cold enough to see her breath. Her crew were ready, at their positions.

"Let's have it then," she stated, a hiss that would be either carried on the wind or lost to it - only time would tell.

The Hard Nox rose from below like a shark from the sea, swift and silent, seeking out its prey. She'd demanded no talk from the crew, nothing that might prepare their enemy to know they were there.

There was nothing to see through the clouds, of course. They were flying blind, relying only on their instrumentation and the pull of the medallion to tell them where the Truth Teller lay and how distant it might be - but as they closed in, Sinéad could feel it. Most likely all of them could, who had enough experience. It was like flying blindfolded - but the wind was different, the flow of the air. The wind told a tale, and the tale was shaped around a ship, even if there was no picture.

The distance was close enough, now, and the Truth Teller suddenly appeared from the mists, looming just overhead. She motioned to the cannoneers. The first real noise sounded, the boom of the great cannons releasing the grapples, and then the crunch and scrape of them across the Truth Teller's deck, raising splintered swathes of wood in their wake before catching. The grapples pulled them close, closer, entwining whatever lives were to be gained or lost here today.

No sense in silence now - their presence had been announced. "Forward!"

Sinéad handed off the wheel, her ship in good hands for now, taking up cutlass instead and rushing ahead to the grappling chains, hopping up nimbly at a run and taking the distance between the two ships on the bridge of chain alone, the ground invisible so far below them. There was only the sky, and a small bit of chain.

For a moment, it was almost like flying. The moment ended, though, and her feet hit the splintered deck, her eyes sighting the nearest already-dead bastard unlucky enough to be close to her. She didn't bother with her blade, just lowered her shoulder and grabbed the creature, tipping it over the railing to fall to the distant earth.

And now the real fight begins.
 
GOLDEN

Despite the overwhelming feeling of dread, when the Captain took the helm, Alys steadily rose to her feet. Wordlessly, she took her place among the crew, joining those who didn't need to rely on chains to board the Truth Teller. Hands gripping the wooden railing, nails slightly digging into the aged material, the faerie peered into the night sky, waiting. The silence only amplified the sound of her own heartbeat, which grew wilder and wilder with each passing second. Then, she saw it. The hull appeared first, followed by the rising masts and sails, until the infamous ship fully materialized in front of them. It was impressive, she had to admit, and among the backdrop of the night sky, the undead ship looked like it belonged in a nightmare.

A monstrous boom broke through the silence, followed by the familiar sound of splintering wood. Alys inhaled deeply and pulled her cutlass from it's sheath, gripping the handle tightly. The Captain's order followed not long after. She pushed aside the tiny voice in her head, the one that advised her of the wasteful carnage that was to come. This was what she did now. Now more than ever, she needed to appear to be a loyal crewmate. That is, if she wanted to survive beyond the night, and beyond the Truth Teller. Because the real danger laid within her own bed; her temporary home here on the High Nox. Surviving this was the first step of her plan, and she intended to follow through.

She rose into the air and plunged down once she crossed the threshold, eyes quickly landing on her first target. Her cutlass slashed downward, the steel embedding into the rotting scalp of the already dead man. With a groan, she planted her boot into his chest, feeling both the softness of putrid flesh and crunch of brittle bone. With the momentum gained, she wrenched the sword free and watched as he flipped over the side and into the abyss below. Spinning around, Alys surveyed the deck for her next victim, but beyond that, a pathway to getting below deck. That's where their prize was hidden.
 
DELFI

"Captain, we're under attack!" The young apprentice said, barging into the Sorcerer's office.

Hester.

Solomon had underestimated her. He assumed the traitor could be anywhere by now, except aboard another pirate ship, and soon back in his arms. How reckless of her.

"Use one of the good ones. Tell the others to prepare for battle, I want them all dead." He said, before another cannon ball hit the hull of his ship. Nothing that couldn't be fixed. The senior elf closed his eyes, and his zombies, even the ones asleep around the ship somewhere understood the command, pulling out their swords, ready to protect their master and his ship. He reached for his dagger and stood up, leaving his office. It was about time he met the famous captain of the Hard Nox.

***

With the captain's approval of his plan, Caleb flew to the banister, grabbing a rope to steady himself. He spoke to the group in front of him - good pirates, who'd be able to get the job done.

"Our target is down the brig. The Truth Teller prisoners are now our prisoners!" He spoke loudly, railing up the men who cheered, raising their weapons.

He waited for Sineád's command to lead his men into battle, flying above the chains that connected the ships with his pistol in hand, sword in the other. He shot two of them before spotting Alys with her cutlass stuck on a dead man's head.

"Alys!" He called, undoubtedly surprising the fairy. "With me."

He didn't wait for a confirmation, she knew better than to disobey a direct order. Flying low, Caleb swung his sword through a zombie's neck, freeing the path to the stairs that'd take them below deck.

***

Guilt - that's what was driving them. Poppy's lips parted, ready to counter their argument but the fight between Leo and Soren stopped her from doing so.

Was it a real fight? Was it a distraction to try and get the robed people downstairs? It looked pretty convincing in Poppy's eyes, and the way they were tossing each other around the cage was bound to hurt more people than just the two of them. Maybe that was the cue to get them out of there. The satyr squeezed Juniper's shoulder and stood up, grabbing the metal bars closer to where the two undead guards stood - Bob and Billy, were the names Poppy gave them.

"Hey! They're gonna kill each other, aren't you gonna do something about it?" No response. Poppy was about to call for them again, when a loud noise - followed by another - rang on her ears. The ship was under attack.

She glanced back at Juniper, but then the bulkhead door swung open and a hooded figure stepped down. This time,it was accompanied by six other undeads instead of two.

Poppy shouldn't have gotten distracted. A cold hand grabbed hers, and she turned to see it was Bob's. She tried to free herself, but the deadman was stronger than he looked.

The six undead entered the cell, four capturing two prisoners she hadn't met, and the two remaining were coming in her direction. The hooded figure waited outside.
 
GOLDEN

Alys. With me.

Her head snapped towards the voice, finding Caleb hovering in the air a couple meters away. Without waiting for her response, he descended and headed for the door that led below deck. She hesitated for a couple seconds, gritting her teeth in annoyance and frustration, considering what would happen if she ignored his order. Simply pretended not to hear him. Blamed it on the chaos unfolding around her. Well that'd just piss him off more, wouldn't it? Especially with an ego that big. Not to mention the consequences of someone else seeing her disobey a direct order. So with a huff of irritation and defeat, she moved down the path he cleared, disappearing beyond the doorway. If he wanted to do this now, then so be it.

He was a couple steps below her, obstructing her view of what awaited below. "Hey boss - how's the cut?" She called out, feigning innocence.
 
HIGHVOLTAGE

While Sinead took the helm, Lucien strode to his place at the bow, eyes fixed ahead. The Hard Nox rose through the clouds, breaching the waves as he scanned the horizon, waiting for a glimpse of their target. The entire ship held its breath, some of the crew perhaps hoping that their captain had led them astray in a fit of madness, the newcomer to be resigned to the cages for this fool’s errand.

All wishful thinking proved to be for naught, as a ghastly sight rippled into view, the skeleton ship looming ominously ahead of them. Lucien took a swig off his flask, holding the liquid in his mouth as the cannons thundered, deadly hooks sailing through the air to sink their teeth into the deck of the ship. He swallowed, the roar in his ears fading as the chains grew taut, predator and prey bound together.

The Captain roared, and a snarl escaped Lucien as he leapt on his own chain, rapier drawn, his movement swift and sure-footed. He surged towards the ship, chain swaying beneath him as he ran. His first foot hit wood, launching Lucien forward. He collided with one of King’s undead minions, his rapier sliding through the corpse’s head and sticking in the wood below. Lucien yanked his blade free, his other hand tightening around the creature’s rags as he snarled, heaving the damned thing overboard before turning to the rest of the graveyard’s contents. Not much blood, but there was plenty of death to be found.
 
QUIRBLES

As Leo leapt through the air, a scaled arm reached out to catch his momentum-locked torso and throw it downwards, back into the dusted wood of the ship. Emryk stood before the impulsive boy with his arms by his side, neckerchief loosened and eyes cast downward with a hardened expression that rivaled the callous spread of his own hide. The usual placid grin upon his snout was gone, replaced with the tight-lipped solemnity of a tired man with better things to do than this.

"That is enough." The nobleman barked, voice level, directed with utmost prejudice to fall harsh upon Leo's ears. Despite his tone, the key emotion it failed to carry was anger. Intrinsically opposed, the stalwart form of the Baron stood directly before that unbidden rage, blocking the dying Soren from view. There Emryk waited, fingers not quite curled into fists but threateningly close nonetheless. He would not fight; he would defend, as he had learned to do for most of his life. "There's as much honor in this as there is in dogs fighting over scraps. It is unbecoming of you. Do better." If Leo wished to fight like an animal, then he would be scolded like one-- and while Emryk was dutifully opposed to violence, some young men were in need of cloutings-- but whatever the case, the standoff would have to wait. The sharp sound of metal upon metal narrowed Emryk's gaze as his head craned to look at the door to their cell; it seemed they would not be fed after all, with the raucous commotion that rang out in muffled bursts above. With how dire their situation was, it may have well been worlds away. No, what mattered here, now, was their actions. Stick to the plan.

"Solomon King must be desperate, if he requests our presence in his darkest hour." Emryk chided the robed figure beyond the bars of their cage, hoping to get a rise out of the apprentice at the most and distract them at the very least. As the undead entered the cell, the Baron backed up against the wall, fingers brushing against the manacles that had held Leo. Idly, the pair that had bound his legs still remained upon the floor, free from the wall due to their work in freeing the prisoner they'd been clasped upon. Most importantly, due to the group's deft work with naught but a spoon, they remained open and largely undamaged. He needed to think-- needed to outsmart them, injured as Soren was and unpredictable as Leo was likely to be. Engaging them head-on would be suicide... but if they could use their numbers against them...

"Do you think this will turn the tide, truly? Or are you fated to be as lifeless as the corpses you command?" The Baron continued, quickly swiping the chains from the ground as their oppressors moved in pairs towards the unfortunate sheepf the flock. The cell was quickly becoming crowded with six additional bodies, hopefully breaking the apprentice's line of sight upon Emryk's form, even with its bulk. A second would be all he needed to grab the manacles and hold them in each hand, surveying the room for the easiest target.

There. Halfway across the cell, Poppy was being advanced upon. Important as it was that all the other prisoners remained as unscathed as possible, the girl was a priority. That, and the corpses had failed to reach her, yet.

No words announced his sprint. No proclamation framed his thudding footsteps as the mammoth Al-Ashtavahk dropped his shoulder and slammed into the first of the pair, closing the gap betwen the two of them with a surprising haste. The run alone had taken much of his stored energy, weakened as he was; intending to stop himself, he instead clumsily lumbered through the undead, catching his stride and hopefully slamming the body to the ground.

"GRAB ITS SWORD! WHOEVER CAN FIGHT-- FIGHT!" The Baron roared, rallying the men as best as he could. Whoever followed, followed-- all he could hope now was that others helped. With the first of Poppy's assailants neutralized, at least for the time being, Emryk quickly enacted the second part of his plan-- slapping the right cuff of the manacles around the corpse's wrist, wrenching it behind its back, and fastening the second cuff to restrain the undead's arms. From there, the Baron turned the corpse back to the front of the room, using it to guard against the retaliation that was no-doubt underway. His hand went to unsheathe the sabre upon its hip; and then, sword and shield in hand, Emryk held his head low and pushed towards the door in a lancer's charge, holding the blade outwards to skewer whatever opposed his warpath. The Baron pushed himself forth with the intent to press beyond the boundaries of the prison and impale the apprentice upon his sword; with the undead repurposed as a protective barrier, he could only grit his teeth and keep his stance low, hiding as much of his brawn behind the corpse as possible. It was not perfect-- perhaps it would not even be enough.

But it would be better to die a brave fool than a wise coward.
 
DELFI

“It’ll heal.” Caleb responded, waiting for her to catch up with him to add with a low voice, so those who followed wouldn’t hear. “Care to explain how that happened?”

His green eye searched hers, with a serious look to it as to say ‘Don’t feed me bullshit’. The last day taught him something important about Alys; she was a good liar. Or at least, good at keeping secrets. If that was a good or bad thing, he was yet to find out.
 
PAPERBAG FILL

Soren's eyes watched as the swift movement of legs charged across his vision towards him. Those feet launching towards his visage at a blur. Not like this. He would not go down like this. One more time. He just needed to move his body once more. His vision faltered again. Blurred vision as his arms groaned against moving, against fighting anymore. His ears had less trouble however. He could hear Poppy's voice calling for someone? His mind barely registered the words as much as he barely recognized the movement of the lizard stepping in.

And come to his aid.

Two surprises in one day, at least Soren would find it so if he could keep his mind and body falling apart. His eyes slowly brought themselves to a close as he watched the lizard settle disputes with the prisoner. The one who attacked him. His eyes flicked to the sides. Juniper. Poppy. Emryk. They were all here. Where was he?

Prison. Imprisoned. Was that not the story of his life at that point?

His arms began to slide slowly as his body began to lower to the floor before slumping down completely, lying on the floor. His eyes brought themselves to a close. He could rest like this. He could die like this. Whether death earned him or not, he was not afraid. Whatever happened next, it would happen with or without his will to influence such events.

He just wished his eyes would close looking at the stars. The sky. While lying on grass plains with trees. Maybe he would dream of them. That would be enough for him.
 
GHOSTLY

The last lingering effects of the hangover remained, but there was a sweetness to it - the memory of shared drinks with a friend. As they hunted the Truth Teller through the clouds, Ciarán held onto that memory and the promise he'd left her with. There was still half the keg and more bottles than he could drink alone, so he prayed to a nameless God to bring his friends back alive and to grant him the strength to rescue those who had been stolen from the Hard Nox.

He'd had Sliocht help dress his chest wound, it hadn't been serious but the discomfort would've put him at disadvantage in a melee. Ciarán dressed himself for both form and function. He wore two pistols on his holster overtop a long coat. He had refit and loaded his arm, not sure exactly what he was going to encounter aboard. The gun teams and boarders were given their orders and tactics from both the captain and master gunner, and were ready to hit back against the ship who'd sought to not only steal their spoils but fire upon the Hard Nox - adding insult to injury.

Ciarán crossed the gap with the first wave and ended up in the middle of the fray. A topside sentry tried their hand at engaging Ciarán with a swipe of their cutlass, but he blocked with his sword in his right and caught the ghoul's face with his left hand. In a sweeping arc he threw the mate towards the rail and sent him over the side, pausing only for a moment to wipe the muck off his hand against the rail.

The priority was the captives, their friends and the other damned souls trapped aboard. Ciarán made his move towards the entrance to the lower decks, he'd cut down anyone in his way.
 
FANG

Leo frowned as dust settled around his body and for the second time in just a few moments the breath was driven from his lungs. His entire chest throbbed from the impact with the lizard’s mitt; he swore he could feel a perfect imprint. The flame rose to his throat again, but it was not time for the fires to rage. Despite appearances Leo had kept it shoved down to this point, and would continue doing so.

“Do better.”

“You’re capable of being more than just a killer”

Leo barely payed heed to the shuddering of the ship, the blasts from somewhere outside, the charge of the man who had scolded him. His breath caught he heaved out a sigh and sat up, fetching the arrow from his side and levering himself toward Soren once more. The big man had finally fallen unconscious again, body slumped against the wall almost as if dead, breath barely seen. Leo set the tip of the arrow against Soren’s chest, face still set in a frown.

Before the lizard could stop him again Leo slid the arrow head downward, slicing through Soren’s shirt and returning again to the top, three times in quick succession. Feed done he folded one of his cloth strips into a tidy square, emulating an act seen only once in the prison already a memory.

Leo set the square on the hole in Soren’s knee, folding another to cover the hole without a protruding arrow in his shoulder. The final strip was tied above the injured man’s knee. As Leo finished the knot he heard Emryk’s roar, his call to capture a sword. Leo snapped the head of the arrow free from the shaft and slid the shaft into the knotted fabric, twisting twice before catching the fletched end in a quickly ripped hole in Soren’s trousers.

There was no time to ensure the tourniquet would hold, and Leo leapt after the charging Emryk in but a few steps, his sprint slowed only when he scooped up the chain Soren had torn from his grasp before. The corpse the lizard man had knocked over was regaining its feet. Leo slowed again to try to kick its head clear of its shoulders, rolling to grab the saber at its side simultaneously before coming up behind Emryk smoothly. The weakened giant was making a good show, crouched behind a manacled corpse and charging toward the cell door with captured sword driving out front. The curved back of the large man seemed the perfect springboard, and with light steps Leo made to catapult himself over Emryk’s hunched form with two steps on his back. The momentum should be enough to clear the doorway and put their attack on either side of the confining cage’s gate.
 
DELFI

Poppy was still trying to free her hand when Emryk knocked down one of the corpses heading her way.

"I gave you my food! Save me!" She heard a man scream on the other side of the cage, one of the two who were captured by two dead women and were already being dragged out. Her eyes trailed back to the hooded figure, and she was finally able to see their face: yellow eyes, skin covered in scales like Emryk, but their features resembled a snake, while their skin was white like porcelain. She couldn't tell their gender, but they seemed both worried and annoyed by the Baron's remarks.

"Get them! Any of them!" The snake person said, and upon their command the one immobilized by Emryk squirmed as it tried to free itself and the second one stood up, even without its head, once again making its way towards Poppy. The two undead left marched towards the group, and the sorcerer set foot in front of the cage's door, ready to welcome Leo with their blade.
 
GOLDEN

Upon meeting Caleb at the bottom of the stairs, Alys couldn't help but to shift her gaze between the wooden staircase behind them and the dimly lit hallway ahead. "You have fucking impeccable timing, you know that, right?," she hissed quietly, in response to his candid, yet completely reasonable question. Her paranoia was beginning to peak; they could very easily be overheard if they weren't careful, or more importantly, they could be attacked by the dead. To minimize that risk, at least for a moment longer, she grabbed him by the elbow and led him a couple steps further down the hall. "Ok, the short version," she whispered, turning to face him and the staircase. They remained alone for now, but the thundering sounds of footsteps above did little to soothe her.

He looked at her intensely, his eye practically burrowing deep into her soul. Her gaze flickered to the staircase for a split second before returning to meet his. She sighed, her pale eyes softening. "This is insane, but I swear on my life, I didn't mean to do it. I thought you were... something else." Shit, she needed to provide specifics.

"On the way back, I got caught up with these ghosts, I don't know what they hell they were. They pissed me off, and I thought 'fuck it', and I swung my dagger - which by the way, I lost while trying to save you-," she rambled off, her speech becoming a little more urgent and rushed with each passing word. She sighed, again her gaze flickering once to the staircase and then back to his face. "I really am sorry. And I'm grateful that you didn't say anything."

Although Caleb was deeply annoying and arrogant, she spoke nothing but the truth. She supposed that was the problem though; how was she going to convince him if he didn't believe her?

The sudden sound of descending footsteps caused Alys to drop her grip on his arm. "Someone's coming," she whispered, peering over Caleb's shoulder at the approaching figure. Ciarán. She exhaled sharply and gave him a tight smile. Yet, the faerie couldn't help but to look at Caleb's face once more; this time studying him for any changes in expression, a reaction, or even an inkling into what he was going to do with her.
 
DELFI

Caleb didn't interrupt her, even though she was right, it was insane. He hadn't seen any ghosts in Fen Manor - nor did anyone, that he was aware of - so she was either making it up, was the only one capable of seeing such creatures or the worst case scenario, she'd lost her fucking mind.

After searching for an answer in Alys' eyes Caleb got to a conclusion, but before he could inform her which one it was she let go of his arm, reminding him they weren't alone. It was none other than Mr. Congeniality himself, deciding to play the hero, no doubt.

"I thought you'd be with the captain." Caleb said, not attempting too hard to hide his disdain for his crewmate.

There was little not to like about Ciarán, and that was exactly his problem. It wasn't a stretch to say everyone under Sineád had issues to deal with, but Ciarán was friendly to everyone, everyone liked him and even in the worst situations he'd often find a silver lining. Perhaps it was envy, but the matter of fact was: he didn't like the guy.

But there was no time for small talk. A small wave of about ten undead men and women rushed towards them from the back of the hall, with their swords high. Caleb led the way, cutting one's stomach open, hoping there'd be another set of stairs ahead.
 
GHOSTLY

The chaos ahead became muffled as Ciarán descended the stairs below decks. While he couldn't make out any words, he thought he heard a hushed voice - or maybe two? He couldn't tell, but he was ready for anything.

He had not expected Alys and Caleb shuffled in the hallway. A battle was raging overhead and the pair were... well, he wasn't exactly sure and didn't want to make assumptions. No doubt they'd come to look for the hostages, but their demeanor was not lost on Ciarán.

Caleb snapped his way and Ciarán shot him and unimpressed look. "I could say the same for you. There isn't much room down here for those pretty wings, Tinkerbelle." Ciarán wasn't usually one for petty comments but he made an exception for his quartermaster. Besides, there was no harm in giving him a hard time.

Before Caleb or Alys could give their two cents a wave of undead crew rounded the end of the hall and rushed them. Caleb took the lead and gutted the first, Ciarán followed behind him. A shuffling man stabbed forward to spear the master gunner, but Ciarán took his wrist in a musketeer disarm and sliced his sabre through the man's shoulder - using his weight to pull the blade through. There was no sign of the captives yet, but Ciarán still had strength in his arm and could fell a good number more undead to retrieve his crew.

Maybe then he could make up for those he'd lost at Fen Manor.
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

The brawl between Leo and Soren was sudden in it's onset, causing Juniper to jerk their head upwards to watch, a look of confusion on their face as the two went at each other. Soren began screaming about killing everyone, and as such, both casters in the cell stood, Poppy going to call for one of their wardens to intervene, Juniper taking half a step forward, meaning to intervene themself. However, before they had a moment to speak, Emryk stepped in, stopping the scuffle just long enough for Soren to fall to his side, and back into a slumber, pained as it may be.

As they tried to make sense of what had just transpired in front of them, they turned back to Poppy, to see if anything had come of her attempt to get help. The two locked eyes for just a moment, before the doors beyond swung open. A hand, motivated by magic instead of muscle, took hold of the satyr, as one of the robed figures spoke. It was then the changeling heard the boom of cannons, and something scraping along the top deck above. They stopped for half a moment to listen, and observe. Footsteps, all above them, scrambling every which way, and one of the robed ones had come for them.

Emryk made his move as Juniper thought, waiting for a moment to make one of their own. 'What's all the noise? Why now? All the sound, cannons...'

As the realization dawned on them, Leo made his move. They watched as he sprung to action, using Emryk as a platform to launch himself over the initial undead and, if things went well, to the necromancer. The sorceress scanned the cell quickly, the need for action rising now. One of the dead, following the command of their assailant, was up once more, sans head, and moving towards Poppy.

That just won't do.

They dashed forwards, placing their glasses back over their eyes once more, and dropped their shoulder, shoving forwards just as they would approach the zombie. It was a similar maneuver to the one they pulled on Poppy back during the raid, though this time with no intent to end up on the floor grappling the dead.
 
UMBRASIGHT

Nessa nodded quickly, some manner of the tension found in her shoulder blades lifting away with a short breath. The skin along her nose prickled, and she blinked away a blurriness that crept into the edge of her vision as she cleared her throat. There was a kindness there that Nessa wasn’t really used to in either of her lives, and it seemed wholly strange that she would find anything like it on this ship. Nessa nodded again, slower this time as she looked down to her hand and the sharp claws on the end, there were different callouses than the ones she knew Lucien had. A different broth, that.

“That would work, yeah, so long as you aren’t busy,” Nessa said, looking back up. “Just between us.” Her lips remained split, as if she aimed to speak further, but distant booms rattled in the Nox’s hull. The raid, right. Nessa closed her mouth as she looked back over her shoulder.

“Should get stepping, and I’m sure you have plenty to prepare for, not an easy raid this.” Nessa looked back to Emer, quiet again. Then, the girl smiled, it was a quick flash of teeth but heartfelt. “Thanks, truly.” She said, before turning away and hurrying back up the hall.

—~~—~~—~~—~~—~~—~~—

By the time Nessa arrived, it seemed the first wave was already in full swing and the next was readying themselves for their own fates. Nessa picked her way through the staging pirates, checking her things as she went. A dagger on her side, her tools on her hip, and a collection of throwing daggers on her other leg, light but effective enough. Anything else, she’d improvise.

Nessa hopped up onto the Nox’s railing, what remained of that warm glow from talking to Emer she pushed deep down as she set herself to the task at hand. She took a moment to watch the movement of the chains that linked the two ships, the ground far below hazy. Perhaps it was an ocean. It didn’t matter much. Nessa dropped down to the chain, sprinting across them as she felt the cold cut of the wind against her cheeks, and not but a moment later Nessa landed onto the gore-splattered deck of the Truth Teller. She took a second to see where familiar faces were heading, Ciarán down below and the Captain and Lucien clearly in search of a different prize.

Gold and glory, one of those two Nessa quite liked, so nary a second thought Nessa moved to trail after the duo. The dagger on her thigh found its way into her hand as she picked her way through the not-so-fresh corpses.
 
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