Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

"Lovely." Her expression turned as sour as her scent. The living corpse had moved to the side--no doubt to account for exactly the strategy she’d been hoping to employ. She took a short step backwards, leaning casually against the rail. Casually as she could, anyway, under the circumstances.

"That’s an official offer of employment, then? Not looking for special consideration, but if we are going to discuss this out in the rain, I want a guarantee first--save us both time and trouble." And if this is going to end with me going over the side anyway, I see no reason I shouldn't take my offerings down with me.

"But I'd be happy to teach you all you want to know, once I have one."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

DELFI

It'd been years since she'd felt this helpless. Poppy was ready for death, but this? This was way worse. She didn't know what the elf's fate would be, but judging by the proportion of his fear, she didn't doubt it'd hurt. And the satyr was tired of being hurt.

After the undead and whoever was in charge of them left, a groan by her side reminded her that the girl who'd burned down her town was still alive and had also been kidnapped. Fate was in the mood of playing pranks it seemed, and despite knowing she should be happy about witnessing her enemy's pain, the druid in her couldn't stand to see a living creature suffer. Suffering that she'd caused.

"I'm glad you're alright… At least for now."

Poppy's stern look faltered. Her voice sounded weak, and perhaps her wounds were worse than they looked at first glance, Poppy wouldn't know, she wasn't a doctor. She stared back at Juniper's friend, who was busy questioning a man in chains. He didn't seem to care about his partner being injured, or had other priorities in his mind.

"Hold my hand." She said at last, after a moment of deliberation. She didn't know if it'd help, after all this place had some sort of magic blockage, but the least she could do was try.

She closed her eyes, breathed deep and released. The hand that held Juniper’s grew warmer, while her heart became colder. It wouldn’t be enough to repair any of her wounds, but it’d give her enough energy to fight exhaustion.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ILLIRICA

Sinéad watched the stranger, assessing the situation. Given that the woman was still attempting to bargain, it seemed like she thought she had other options. The way she was leaning against the railing - could she survive the fall? Or perhaps survive was altogether the wrong word, which fit with the general situation much better. Walk away from, maybe. If they had more time, it would have been interesting to find out, but some bargains had to be made quickly.

"Fair enough. You have my guarantee that I will treat you exactly as I would treat any other member of the crew." What that was worth to the woman, Sinéad couldn't know at all. She would have been interested to continue the discussion, up here in the wind and the rain. Cold, to be certain, but some things were meant to be.

Of course, that did make it easier for the woman to jump, so below decks it was to be. "Come down to the mess, then. There will be..." Ah, but Soren wasn't here. "...Something, certainly." There was always standard ship fare, jerky and hardtack and dried fruits, if nothing else. "What do you want to be called?"

 

[Hard Nox 2]

UMBRASIGHT

…eight, nine, ten… the merchant counted his coin.

It ached like it was something deep in her bones clamoring to crawl out of her skin. Her heart was high in her throat and she could feel it rushing through her veins, the blood. As loud as it was, others could surely hear that sound couldn’t they? She needed to relax, to step away. Her legs wouldn’t move, her body wouldn’t move, she didn’t look to the table but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel it there as a physical presence. Warmth, the heaviness that accompanied the need that peeled away at the inside of her skin. Emer spoke to her, but as it was with Ciarán, her words were simply there in the air.

The girl took the apple, her teeth tearing through the skin.

Her lips twitched with attempted words, blood bubbled in the corner of her lip from where she had nicked her tongue. Nessa swallowed that taste of dull iron, but it did nothing. Air rasped between her teeth. Finally, the tension in her body snapped and Nessa’s hand fell like a blade, pearls of her own blood flicking out from her fingertips. Nessa’s nails raked across the tabletop, leaving four thin trails through the crimson pools as she turned herself away. Her footfalls were hard and fast as she scrambled past Caleb and Alys in her dash out of the room and that tantalizing smell of cooking flesh. She pushed her fingers into her mouth and sucked greedily, like a starving man licking the final bits of stale bread crumbs from his fingers.

It wasn’t enough. Nessa pressed her shoulder against the wall, but the smell remained heavy and rich in her nostrils. Behind her. It was just behind her. Her teeth clicked as she snapped her jaw at nothing. Her fingers left a sticky smudge on the wall as she pushed off. She shambled forward a pair of steps before the idea struck her. She had carried Caleb. Caleb had bled. Nessa batted the fabric of her cloak open, her shirt beneath stained red from her shoulder and down her side. Some of the blood was hers, no doubt, from the bullet, but that was a passing thought. That flesh had long knit itself back together, but the blood—

Nessa’s fingers ran down the cloth, her fingernails ripping through it as easy as a sharpened blade. She tore the bloodied stain free, and shoved it into her mouth, chewing on the cloth.

With a taste so sweet, she cried.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERBAG FILL

The prisoner did not offer much, other than confirm one suspicion. Unnatural. This Solomon King was unnatural. Either he was one of these again-walkers or perhaps something more himself, not unlike Juniper or the druid. Either would explain the control he held over an undead crew. Those cloaked figures, however, what was their purpose? Soren shook the question from his mind as he tugged at the chain once more.

Nothing yet. Or perhaps nothing at all. Fine then. A change in tactics would be necessary here. Soren let go, listening. His eyes scanned through the various prisoners. Weak. Injured. Malnourished. Some of their bones looked ready to pop out through bone and muscle. Soren, Juniper, the druid, they were not the first. They would not be the last if this continued. Soren only further listened. He cared little for Leo's talk about flames or killing King. Whether that reality would come about or not, it was not the chief concern.

All Soren needed to know was that something motivated this man to fight, and it was good enough for him. Not like he had a large collection of warriors to pick from. His eyes flickered over across all these bodies towards Juniper and the druid. They were awake. Good. He could speak to them soon after having let them rest.

An eyebrow raised slightly as Soren turned to look at Leo before the Jotunn's face settled into its hardened gaze once more. "Soren."

The young man inquired into the nature of a ship. Soren's eyes looked through Leo's eyes. No deception to be found in the chained prisoner's eyes. Just curiosity and a guardedness Soren could respect.

"A ship is a vehicle to cross either sea or air. We are on one right now, crossing the clouds."

Soren's voice grew quieter and more reserved, only for Leo's ears.

"I have . . . a few ideas. Will you work with us-," Soren's head motioned to the side, pointing in the direction of those who came with him, "-to escape? Killing King will mean nothing if you have no means of freedom to perform the act."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

THIMBLE

Caleb had come back from the raid with more scars than he had before he left. His shirt was soaked through with warm blood that dripped slowly to form pools all over Emer's nicely swept floor.

Sliocht hoisted the quartermaster onto a nearby table, pulling the wet undershirt from the fairy's limp body. The cut was long and deep, reaching along a good swathe of Caleb's chest. Sliocht pulled the cleanest rag from a nearby bucket of supplies and held it against Caleb's shallow breathing, white linen soaking with tendrils of deep red. It didn't seem to be enough, and soon the rag was soaked through. Such a wound would have been above him at the best of times, which these certainly were not.

Unfortunately, Emer was dealing with her own battlefield casualty. Sliocht could hear her softly panting as she tried desperately to keep Torrel above water.

The used rag fell to the deck with a sickening wet slap as he drew another, but soon this one was wet and heavy with blood as well. Sliocht tried to recall what Emer had told him about wounds like these, but he found himself unable to think of anything except the warm liquid that was forming gruesome pools around his shaking hands. Tiny spots of Caleb's warm brown skin peeked out from behind the liquid velvet curtain that covered most of his body.

Try as he might, Sliocht couldn't remember Emer's advice for these situations. He'd have to interrupt her own work, but for a moment. Pushing the rag firmly into Caleb's chest with the squelching sound of boots in fresh mud, he turned to her with a trembling smile.

"Hate to bother, but our Dear Quartermaster's gotten himself injured beyond a Barber's capacity. What do I do?"

 

[Hard Nox 2]

HIGHVOLTAGE

Lucien raised an eyebrow at this newcomer, brazenly flaunting their betrayal of the Truth Teller. But the Hard Nox certainly had its share of mutineers, both successful and failed. The Captain seemed not to mind the mutinies that occurred under her watch, so long as they were put down once they had gotten it out of their system. She offered up items, secrets hidden that only she could reveal. The Captain did not seem to be buying into it, firing a counteroffer like a pistol shot. When she suggested moving down to the mess, that was when Lucien took his leave. He stowed his pistol, gave a nod to the Captain, and left her alone with the newcomer. Invitation into the ship meant some modicum of trust had been established, enough that Sinead thought she could handle any potential trouble on her own.

Lucien slipped below decks, the stench of blood and cooked flesh drifting down as Emer and Sliocht did their work, taking care of those who required assistance after the raid. He glanced down at his own blackened hand, flexing his fingers before letting it fall back to his side. It would heal, it just needed time.

Another scent pierced his nostrils, sour, bitter. Lucien continued his movements, the scent drawing him closer to Emer’s chambers, to the sweet singing blood. Then he saw her. Huddled against the wall, bloodied cloth jammed in her mouth. As he got closer, Lucien could see the hunger in her eyes, the bare restraint of a starving animal. Pathetic.

He did not break his stride, instead placing his good hand firmly on her shoulder, forcing her to walk. “With me, fledgeling.” He steered Nessa towards his cabin, swiftly opening the door and guiding her to a chair, none too lightly. Lucien went to a little closet, picking up a bottle and two chipped glasses. He opened the bottle with a satisfying pop, its cork set on the table as he filled both glasses with a dark red liquid. He placed on one the table, keeping the bottle out of her reach as he sipped his own.

“You make fools of us both, fledgeling. A desperate, mewling thing, greedily suckling on your own ruined cloak like a babe on her mother’s teat.” Lucien’s gaze was hard, his voice low. He took a sip of his drink, swirling the thick red liquid. “You can either fall to pieces when in the presence of blood or you can feed. There is no third option.”

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERWORK

"Well, isn't that careful," she mumbled. What would be the usual protocol for a crewmember that was discovered to be a former mutineer in the Whore of the Horizon's crew, she wondered? She doubted it'd be anything worse than what King would do to her if he found her now; no doubt he'd noticed she was gone.

Besides, this was exactly what she'd been expecting from a legendary pirate captain. You couldn't hope for much better than 'might not kill you once the gruesome hazing rituals are over.' Had to be realistic.

"I'll take it. Name is Hester Falmouth." The dead man was leaving, probably to go wash his face; that was probably a good sign, anyway. She pushed off the railing, sticking out her gloved left hand to shake. The medallion was now dangling from her wrist by its chain. "Of Leimor, if it matters." It doesn't.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

FANG

The big man stopped his efforts, and so too did Leo. He knew he couldn’t get free on his own, these chains weren’t the same as the ones that had held his wrists before. Leo knew what the big man was doing, had seen the scanning eyes and contemplative expression on the faces of many others who had come and gone in the prisons.

“Soren,” the man replied as he continued weighing his options. Leo tilted his head, contemplating the answer. Soren was not a pretty name, but it was more pleasing than Solomon King. "A ship is a vehicle to cross either sea or air. We are on one right now, crossing the clouds." It had been a lifetime since Leo had glimpsed the sky, and Sylvael and told him once of the sea and how it was nothing but water as far as the eye could see. Sounded like fantasy, but Leo knew little of the world.

"I have . . . a few ideas. Will you work with us to escape? Killing King will mean nothing if you have no means of freedom to perform the act." Leo looked to Soren’s companions, the flame flickering slightly but holding steady in his breast. It seemed they were all decent enough, despite Leo’s misgivings. Leo glanced outside the cell, looking for motion from the lifeless husks that guarded them. Luckily talk of escape did not rouse them to action.

“Eventually Leo will be released to kill or be killed. That is how it always is. Chained, though,” Leo shrugged and his bindings clinked together pointedly. “Release me and I will kill whoever you ask. King will die when Leo has the best chance.”

Though he had never tried to escape before, Leo had a decent idea of what would be needed. Prisoners always offered freedom to each other while they rattled off their plans, and Leo had listened to every plan in turn before refusing. Most plans failed, but there were a few Leo had never seen the creators of again. Whether that spoke of their success or failure was to be debated.

“I have a tool,” he began, trying to decide mid-sentence whether he wanted to risk his only weapon. “Rolled into my trousers. Maybe it can help. I want it back when we are free.” He glanced again at Soren’s companions. Hopefully they were more capable than they seemed. “There are a lot of dead on this ship. We are not enough.” If they managed free him and themselves Leo might well leave the group behind and escape alone. The big man would likely cause distraction enough for him to slip away. It was the best chance Leo had.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

GOLDEN

The smell of burning flesh filled the air, causing Alys to wrinkle her nose. It was certainly not a pleasant scent, but like anything, the body grew accustomed to it after so much exposure. Especially in light of recent events.

Only when she tilted her head to peak at the work Emer was doing, did she finally noticed Nessa's reactive behaviour. Her body stiffened; a somewhat natural reaction to a potential blood sucking threat. Eyes trained on the young vampire, Alys' hand migrated to her bare thigh, and she once again felt the loss of her dagger. Fortunately, even if she did wield it, she wouldn't have had to use it. Nessa fled the room without another word.


A brief silence filled the air in her absence, broken only by Sliocht's sudden interruption. He had moved Caleb's body and had seemingly grown overwhelmed by the blood loss. Alys looked away, back towards the door, hoping that the sudden and somewhat surprising wave of guilt dissipated. Or was it fear?

She waited until Sliocht asked his question before rising from her position. "Do you still need my assistance?" She asked Emer cautiously, not wanting to disturb the healer's train of thought. There was no sense in sitting around if that wasn't the case; surely Ciarán would have something for her to do. Something outside of these four, suddenly suffocating walls.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ANNASIEL

She'd removed the arrow, cleaned what splinters and debris she could, and slowed the bleeding. Now all that was left was time. If the vila survived - if - they would be disfigured. Speaking would be a struggle, if possible at all, and breathing would be tight through a scarred throat. Still, life was life, and any life saved was a good one. Cinching bandages around Torrel's throat, Emer took a step back, wiping at her forehead with her arm. In the minutes they'd spent, her posture has shifted, body ragged, eyes drooping and shadowed, as if she'd spent that time lifting some impossible weight from plummeting off an edge.

In a way, she had, for however much a soul may weigh.

She glanced over at Sliocht, standing over Caleb's motionless body. He'd moved him to another table. Emer walked beside the barber, taking one of his hands in hers and guiding his fingertips to trace inside the laceration.

"Feel that? His cut is deep, but only in the flesh. Clean it with a rag and sew it like you would a torn cloth. Like -" taking up the needle now, she moved it in a curved motion over the skin. "This, only as deep as where the white in wall of the wound appears. Tie it off after and wrap his chest with cloth for seepage. He'll be fine beyond that, simply in need of water, bread, and plenty of rest."

Emer smiled, turning back to the door. Alys stood there expectantly. The girl seemed uncomfortable - not to the extent of poor Nessa, but her feelings were doubtless of a different sort. She had only been with the crew for a few months, and it took time to get used to the fruits of violence.

"No, dear. We've enough cooks around this pot for now, I think. Thank you for all you've done - I'm sure Caleb will appreciate knowing how you saved his life, when he wakes."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

ILLIRICA

The stranger wasn't happy, but she seemed to know that she wasn't going to get anything better. Sinéad gave Lucien a nod, and he went off to do whatever it was he did when he fancied a bit of independence. The Captain took the newcomer's hand, offering a shake and keeping her blade in her other hand, just in case. The hand she shook was... strange. Clammy, cold and damp and somehow not quite what Sinéad had expected of a woman's hand. She wanted to glance at it, but she wasn't about to take her eyes off the whole picture at this moment. That was one of the many ways to get killed, in this sort of business. Sinéad had certainly killed plenty of people who hadn't been keeping their eyes where they should.

She released the hand once more without further tension, not doing something so crass as to try to grab the medallion. Hester would hand it over when she was ready to do so, and if she wasn't ready in a proper amount of time, she would receive some encouragement in the matter. "Sinéad Oíche. And it doesn't matter where you're from. We've all places we'd like to forget." She led the way down into the galley of the ship. The mess hall was a rough place, wooden tables and wooden benches, with chains about each leg anchoring them to the floors and walls. Knowing where to step so as not to trip on the chains was an acquired skill - the new crew members tended to go in the stages of looking carefully every time, pretending they didn't need to look carefully every time and falling on their faces, and finally learning where the chains were so that they could navigate it half dead in the dark.

There was, as she suspected, hard tack and jerky, and someone had gotten the perpetual stew hot again. At this point no one knew or cared to know what was in it, but it was hot and filling and mostly tasted of salt. "Grab something to eat, if you need to." She was ravenous - fighting was always like that, though. The exertion, or the exciting, or some combination of them. Sinéad grabbed a bowl and filled it, then took a seat. Hester could get her own if she wanted one, the Captain didn't serve anyone but herself.

It tended to be much warmer near the kitchens, which Sinéad was not going to betray that she appreciated. Abovedecks was cold as the great ice sea once the ship got high enough, but one didn't stay in charge of a ship by admitting weakness.

"So, let's assume if you're here, you've no love for King. Tell me about him." Now was the time she finally allowed herself to glance towards the woman's hand, to see what made it feel like something it oughtn't. "And about yourself."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

PAPERBAG FILL

Soren's eyes followed Leo's for a moment. Nothing in there quite to tell that Leo held any ill will towards his companions. It did not mean it was not there, but Soren's doubts would have to hold themselves away for now. Right now, he needed numbers. A fact Leo kept reminding the Jotunn of. Too many undead on this ship. Perhaps that could be worked into an advantage. Although, stealth was more a strong suit of other crew members of the Hard Nox.

Soren simply grunted as he nodded, registering and agreeing to those words. No use in giving any further words or false hope. Soren simply had a few ideas. Not like it had been his first time being captured, but this was a different set of circumstances. A different layout to operate in. With the state of the rest of these men, none of them had long if they were starved to this state. None of them were useful in the escape besides being additional bodies. Convincing each would take too long and trying to raise a riot would fail.

It required a more delicate touch. Soren's eyes narrowed as Leo mentioned a tool. In his trousers? Soren began tapping around with the back of his fist on Leo's pants before finding something solid met his fist. Soren's brown furrowed before unrolling the material slowly. It slid and Soren thought it may drop to the floor if the chain had not been snug on it. It only became lopsided before Soren picked it off Leo's person.

"I will return it to you."

Soren nodded before he slipped the spoon into his belt and under the material of his own clothing. Then, he simply made his way by lumbering on back towards Juniper and the druid. He needed to check on them.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

SHODDYPRODUCT

Juniper looked to the satyr's hand, confused and unsure of what to think. Just minutes earlier, she had been at their throat, but... Well, it was a welcome change, they figured. Tentatively, they reached out and took her hand, and was pleasantly surprised at what followed. It was a concept they had hear of before, but had never practiced, on account of the fact that it was rare they had much gas left in the tank after a raid, so to speak. They felt their body begin to relax, somewhat, and let out a quiet sigh, closing their own eyes for a moment. It was then they noticed the pervasive sense of wrongness, of something missing. Her eyes opened, and with a furrowed brow, she attempted to conjure even a spark, to no avail. They weren't that tired, a spark was easy, so it had to have been something else.

Their mind shifted, however, back to their adversary turned cellmate, and the changeling recalled the final act the satyr had brought forth back before the dead swarmed them. Juniper was familiar with those circumstances, and as such, loosed their grip on the woman's hand. "You... I appreciate it, but you don't have to do that. I'll be okay, I think, for now."

They tried to stand. It was difficult, and they could feel the skin of their stomach pulling, a sharp pain shooting through them, but it wasn't anything major, not like what they had inflicted on Fen Manor. They pushed the pain to the side, and surveyed once more their surroundings. They were well and truly trapped, with likely no way forwards. With Soren speaking to, as far as they could tell, the one other person who seemed capable of anything in this pit of despair, they turned their attention back to the satyr.

"My name's Juniper. Yours?"

 

[Hard Nox 2]

THIMBLE

Emer guided his hands around the seam of Caleb's wound. Sliocht hoped that she wouldn't notice the shaking.


"Feel that? His cut is deep, but only in the flesh. Clean it with a rag and sew it like you would a torn cloth. Like this, only as deep as where the white in wall of the wound appears. Tie it off after and wrap his chest with cloth for seepage. He'll be fine beyond that, simply in need of water, bread, and plenty of rest."

He dutifully followed Emer's guidance, mopping away the wound before pushing a thick needle through Caleb's soft skin. In the white flesh of the wound, the needle dipped in and out, in and out as Sliocht sewed the wound closed like a tailor mending torn clothes. He gently tied off the thread and wrapped Caleb's chest with a fresh linen, watching as the folds rose and fell in time with subtle breaths. The quality of the ensuing scar was up to fate now.

He deftly hoisted the quartermaster off the table, being careful to tuck his wings in into the linen wrap. Considering that Caleb would probably come to learn who had performed his impromptu surgery, Sliocht decided to take pains to make sure the fairy's recovery would be as pleasant as possible.

The barber set Caleb down gently on a bedroll in the corner of the room, and trickled some cool water into his mouth. Propping the fairy's head up onto a book as an impromptu pillow, Sliocht felt comfortable that any future ill will had been avoided.

He wiped the drying flakes of blood off of his hands as he walked to where Emer still fought to keep Torrel alive.

"More hands?"

 

[Hard Nox 2]

DELFI

"Magic is limited here. Must be some kind of spell" Poppy said, noticing Juniper's failed attempt to do something with her free hand. She allowed them to let go, and stood up along with the changeling.

"My name is Juniper. Yours?"

Poppy looked up from Juniper's hand to her eyes, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms close to her chest.

"Don't misunderstand this. We're not friends, and never will be." I'd never be friends with a monster like you, she wanted to add, but chose not to. Breaking eye contact, Poppy walked away to the further edge of the cell, away from Juniper and Soren and sat on the ground, next to a couple other prisoners.

The door was being opened again, by a single corpse carrying a burlap sack. The men by her side jumped up, and by their reaction, Poppy was able to guess what it was.

Food. At least they wouldn't starve to death.

The corpse tossed the sack into the cage and closed the lock again, while prisoners rushed to score a piece of bread. Poppy wasn't that hungry, but she doubted they'd give them more food anytime soon. She stood up and tried to reach past two tall men blocking her way.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

SHODDYPRODUCT

"I-" Juniper began, but stopped themself. Not the time, nor place, and clearly she had already made up her mind. Likely no changing that now, not after everything that had already transpired. With a sigh, and a wince following it from their injury, the sorceress took a step towards Soren, meaning to check in with him, before the commotion behind them caught their attention. A shambling corpse, likely one of the last things you would want handling your food, had in fact brough them food. They made a face, something similar to a grimace, before stepping over, knowing it was this or nothing.

They shuffled up beside the satyr, trying to help push into the crowd. Already the sharp pains from the wound she had inflicted on them was fading into a dull ache, a more constant feeling rather than an unexpected visitor. Hopefully it would be the worst Emer would have to attend to, but deep down, they knew better. They shifted their attention once more to the satyr.

"I get you don't like me. I wouldn't either, honestly, but we're locked in here together, and I'd rather we not be. Even if you hate my guts and want me dead, can you save it for after we get out of here? I'm not asking for friendship, just cooperation, just for a little bit."

 

[Hard Nox 2]

GOLDEN

Thank you for all you've done - I'm sure Caleb will appreciate knowing how you saved his life, when he wakes.

Emer always knew exactly what to say, didn't she? Maybe if Alys had actually saved his life she would feel differently, comforted by those words of praise. But she hadn't, and so she didn't feel comfort in that moment. Instead, her stomach tightened, coiling with this strange sensation she hardly ever felt. She forced that feeling down, knowing that no matter how she felt inside, she had to portray a different story to the outside world.

She pushed herself off the wall and began to walk towards the door. "And don't let him forget it! I sure as hell won't." Her gaze flickered quickly over her shoulder to give Emer and Sliocht a parting grin, before she finally left the room. She'd be back soon enough. After all, the sheath she had removed from her thigh had been strategically left by the wall, next to a cabinet holding a portion of supplies. That evening, or maybe even tomorrow morning, she'd finally realize it was missing and would be forced to retrace her steps. Otherwise there would be no reason to return, because checking in on Caleb was not believable enough. She wondered if anyone would.

Despite the tightness in her stomach, waves of hunger rolled through, causing the faerie to place a blood-stained palm over her midsection. She needed to occupy her mind for a moment, find some work to do. And then get some food into her belly. Maybe wash the blood off her hands and face at one point. Shit, too much to do, and her mind still raced over the tricky situation she stuck herself in.

With a steady and deep breath, Alys forced herself to stop, standing where Nessa had crouched just moments earlier. First things first, she should find Ciaran - certainly he would have something for her to do. He usually did. Then wash up and get some grub in her belly. So she set off down the empty hall, a woman on a mission.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

REYN

"Yeah, yeah, it would be unbecoming, alright." Mal muttered, "Tell that to the Captain. Tell that to anyone who steers this bloody thing, they might actually listen to you..."

The crashing was a call to action; something was attacking, which meant something wanted in, which meant Mal had to patch up the veritable open door on the side of the boat before they all got killed. Fantastic. They shoved the chisel into their pocket and tapped Fionn on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow.

"Right this way, then. If you're so intent on fixing the ship, you can damn well help me do it. Maybe I can use you as sealant putty..."

They were only half joking.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

QUIRBLES

- Day 45 Aboard the Truth Teller -​

As a pittance of food was given to the shackled souls aboard the Truth Teller, the Baron stirred from his place at the far corner of the cell.

He made his way to the food calmly. A pair of folk were already wrestling for a batch of bread; the new arrivals had settled in as well as anyone could, given the circumstances. Two of the captives, a woman and a satyress, had begun scrounging for the food; most of it had seemingly been picked away. The most edible portions, at the very least. Some had already begun to dig into their spoils, while others clutched and guarded their food like animals; the Baron set his sights on a lankier fellow near the corner, the shadow of the large prisoner's silhouette casting itself across the broad face of the man's body.

Emryk stood a good three or four hands above the man. The Scale-Folk wordlessly outstretched his palm, taloned fingers splayed expectantly as his eyes, hardened as they were, fell upon their target with an understated softness; then, after a moment of quiet passed between the two, the Baron finally spoke.

"You ate yesterday." The voice was a low but refined rumble. It was, frankly, unbecoming of a beast of his stature and appearance, though it was unbecoming in the same manner as a mangy hound forgoing gnashed teeth. "Give some for the newcomers. Come on, then." And then, when his inevitable request was fulfilled-- in no small part due to the Baron's looks, and the sharp dichotomy between him and the rest of the cell-- he moved to the next one, and then the next. Three people were spoken to, and three offerings were given. Then, it was back to the newcomers, specifically the two girls of the group that had arrived hours prior. Much like with the man, his hand was extended; this time, its fingers were curled around food.

"Cooperation is suggested. Take it from me, if you shan't take it from her." The posh Al-Ashtavahk spoke, holding out the collected food until the pair had taken it.

The Baron was not to be mistaken for fae, man, or anything in-between. Perhaps the two had come into dealings with beast-folk before, or perhaps it was their first time laying eyes upon a person like him; whatever the case, there would be no mistaking his size, nor his stature. He was large, standing above the rest in no part due to the horns that adorned his head. He was strong, too, though perhaps that was merely an inference based on his size; his arms were things of the forest, tree-trunk like and hardened with a layer of scales, though the slight tremble in his hand as he held out the food spoke to the malnourishment of his body and soul. Like all the unfortunate souls here, he was weakened, brought low, though he would not let his mind be the final victim of entropy. No, his sleeves were rolled and his coat was dirty, bloodied, and perhaps torn in some portions, but his head was held high, sallowed as his scales seemed to be from their natural complexion.

"Eat that, and then take this to the other two arrivals. One of you feed the chained fellow." His other hand, guarded close to his chest, was soon placed down upon the ground. While its placement carried the risk of someone snatching it, the Baron's presence was enough of a deterrent. Most here had seen what he'd done to those who stole from him. "Afterwards, I will need all of you to cooperate. If they take you from here, you will die. I make no exaggeration of that fact. To live, it is imperative that we work together, and we work fast."