Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

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GOLDEN

Alys observed the contrast between the two persuasion techniques. Nessa and Juniper's had an air of flirtation and the very best of manipulation, whereas Sinéad's was much more straight-forward and commandeering. Together, the poor attendants stood no chance. They left them behind like a stuttering and blushing fools, eagerly swiping at the silvers remaining on the counter.

The faerie gave the man at her counter a coy smile before placing her own silver down and using an index finger to slowly slide it towards him. "I'll have the jasmine-citrus mix, please. With a chamomile tea and a slice of lemon." The former being an old classic, while the latter was an unusual choice for an unusual occasion. It was still early afternoon, and she needed to calm what was left of her nerves after the recent spike of anxiety and paranoia.

Arriving a couple steps behind the trio, Alys took a seat beside Juniper to begin untying the laces of her boots. "I have a feeling we'll get exactly what we need, especially after these last couple of days."

Glancing at Nessa and then Sinéad, Alys grinned. "This place still has a lot to offer. I'm sure the opportunity to... work together will arise sooner than expected."

Once her shoes were off, the faerie began to remove the rest of her clothing, until she was as bare as the day she'd been born, covered only by the soft material of her robe. Leaving her clothing in a neat pile, Alys entered the bath room eagerly.

Steam rose high into the air, while a mix of pleasant scents overpowered her senses. She wandered over to the table containing four trays, each with soaps and scrubs and everything you'd need to get your skin as smooth as a newborn babe. After taking a sip of her hot tea, Alys grabbed her goodies and made her way to one of the corners of the shared bath. The robe pooled at her ankles and she dipped a toe in, testing the heat of the water. It was absolutely perfect. Slowly, she lowered herself in, tucking her wings behind her so that they didn't get absolutely soaked. For a moment, she just sat there, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of comfort and pleasure, as the water settled above the swell of her chest. The sound of footsteps, likely the others settling in, caused Alys to once more open her eyes and reach for her soap. "I can confirm, this is heavenly."
 
HIGHVOLTAGE

Caleb ended the conversation with surgical precision, one last quick cut to sever the thread before walking off, taking the pup with him into an alley. Lucien knew exactly what the last comment was referring to, as there was no love lost between himself and the quartermaster. The rest of the crew split, the Al-Ashtavahk leaving with Emer. Lucien had not seen much of him on the ship, but his jovial air had permeated the boards, it felt. The rest seemed to be heading to a bathhouse, a stop Lucien himself would have to make eventually. Probably the only remnant of who he used to be, of the mewling thing that had once occupied this flesh: he could not help but love a good bath.

Lucien slipped through the streets, flowing through the crowd. They did not part for him like the crew did, a flock of cattle who realized not that a wolf was in their midst. To them he was just another aristocrat here for the festivities, although why one as dour as him would attend the festival was anyone’s guess. He glanced around, keeping an eye out for any taverns that seemed quite popular. Depending on how long their stay was, he may be able to replenish his stores. Nobody would notice someone missing from the festival, after all, until it was far too late.

But that would come at a later time. For now, Lucien set his sights on the more immediate needs he had, such as a new blade. It was easy enough to spot a store that dealt in weaponry, its exterior decorated with blades and projectiles advertising its wares. Lucien stepped in, gracefully, immediately registering the others within. He blatantly ignored the pup wielding an ugly, raw, unrefined blade, as well as the quartermaster fondling some gaudy dagger. Instead, he walked straight to the counter, lightly placing a hand on it.

“I am in need of a rapier, of high quality. What do you have that fits that description and that you are proudest of?” Lucien could find the blade himself, surely, but he wanted to see what the blacksmith thought he could get away with.
 
QUIRBLES

"Well, pardon my ego, but I do believe I'd be a better fit to teach you than Sinead." The Baron was careful to consider his words, now, and even more keen on keeping an appropriate space between the two of them. "We could run through some exercises when we're back at the ship." Alone? Goodness. "With-- others, if you'd like! Or it could be just us. I'd say that decision is ultimately up to you. It's your clinic, after all."

Another clearing of his throat, and Emryk adjusted the jacket atop his shoulders. Earth below, the heat was beginning to show itself, and the furred coat wasn't making his inevitable heat-stroke any slower. "Very-- warm, don't you think? Practically would need to strip down to my skivvies to feel temperate. Gah, I miss the tundra..." He muttered, making idle conversation as he shrugged off his jacket and folded it within his arms. The shirt beneath was sleeveless, in preparation of the warmth, and he suddenly became very conscious of that fact as the breeze from the coast hit his bare scales. Emryk gave a content sigh, ignoring the fact that Emer could now see his arms. There wasn't any use fretting over it, after all! He was just... taking off a layer. Surely, she could understand.

"Shop away!" The Baron stated, tone a bit soft as he observed the sleeping elf atop her stool. "Though, please don't steal anything, tempting as it might be."
 
DELFI

"Can I have this one?"

Caleb looked from his perfectly adorned dagger to Leo's rudimentary sword. There were many better options for him to choose from, but Caleb wouldn't argue about such a thing.

"How much?" He asked, amused at the blacksmith confusion. He looked at Leo with the same touch of intrigue everyone in the crew did on his first day.

"This one?" He pointed at the dagger in Caleb's hand. "Five gold. You can have the other one for free."

He walked up to the counter with his hand reaching for his satchel when a new, familiar figure entered the shop.

"Are you a stalker?" The quartermaster asked Lucien, at the same time pulling out the five golden coins to pay for his purchase.
 
ANNASIEL

Emer had been working on setting aside piles of things she needed, carefully separating them from the rest of the supplies so she only needed to wake the shopkeep once she'd finished.

"You'd be surprised. Sinead is remarkably well-read, for a pirate captain." She picked up a sprig of monkshood, sniffed it, plucked a few brown leaves, and set it aside. "Though I would love to see what you could show me as well."

A slight pause, a little too long.

"For writing, I mean."

The foolish man had put the thoughts in her head. Ultimately, he was the one to blame, for being such an oblivious flirt. That was the justification for, when he took off his jacket, she found herself glancing his way.

Yes, the observation of the back was quite accurate, especially of the shoulders.

Ah - there was the warmth on her face again.

"It is a bit warm here, yes."

Shrugging her own shawl off - now that Emryk mentioned it, the warmth on her face was more a whole body thing, after all - she tied it around her waist, downy feathers on her bare forearms rustling slightly in the breeze. The bandage was still wrapped around her elbow, but it wasn't particularly conspicuous. She'd had her fair share of bumps and scrapes over the past few days.

"I do not steal, Baron Emryk, especially from those of my trade," she retorted to his comment, feigning offense, though from the coy smirk it was obvious she could tell he was joking. "Though, I wouldn't want to wake her from her rest when she looks so pleasant. Perhaps - I'll simply pay a bit over their worth, and leave it at that."
 
FANG

Leo practically squealed in excitement as he spun the weapon over his head. A weapon of his very own, and the blacksmith had given it to Caleb for free! Leo didn’t know much about shopping but he knew free was the best deal anyone could ask for. As Caleb payed the balding smith Leo paced around with his new toy, spinning it through his fingers and swinging it through the air to narrowly avoid hitting displays of armors and arms.

~~~~~

The blacksmith kept his wits, the aristocrat who stepped in immediately bringing a smile to the man’s ruddy face. ”A fine day to you, sir!” He said cheerfully to the man who practically smelled of gold. Absently he slid the five gold from the counter, his focus now on the very clear request made by the darkly dressed new customer. The dagger had been worth no more than two gold, the jewel in its pommel true sapphire but the handle gold leaf over bleached wood, thinly applied for naught but appearance, though the blade was decent enough.

This pale aristocrat, however, did not seem the type to be fooled with such overtly decorative pieces, but as he stepped around the counter and began selecting pieces he could not help but add one of the more extravagant blades, the very one the barefoot man-child had wielded earlier. Within a few minutes the smith returned to the counter and set out four different blades for the customer’s perusal.

”These here are my best works, good sir. From left to right I have a half hilt épée forged from good hard steel from right here in Allegria. Next is a short little basket hilt I lovingly call Matilda, after my wife. Sharp and dangerous as her tongue, but thick as her hips! Ha!”The smith slapped his hand on the counter and coughed a few more laughs out before sobering enough to move to the next blade.

”This here is probably my most beautiful piece. Mother of pearl inlaid into an ebony handle, with gold leafing and a gilded woven basket. Steel sharp enough to cut the sky and bright enough to shame the sun. I dare say it would look quite dashing upon a noble hip such as yours.”The smith flashed a charming, gap toothed smile and bowed ever so slightly. And finally we have a simple swept hilt small sword, basic four ring hilt and mahogany handle. Sturdy and sharp as any of these weapons.” The smith crossed his arms, praying to the Goddess that the man would ask after the price of all but the last.
 
QUIRBLES

The Baron gave a roll of his shoulders, examining the wares set out on display within the microcosmic apothecary alongside Emer. He hadn't much of an eye for these sorts of things-- which roots were in season, or which herbs seemed to be particularly... ripe? Was that the term, for it? It was a bit hard to get his thoughts and order. Emryk's eyes were gradually drawn from the stocked shelves of the booth to the sloping shoulders of the doctor perusing them; he'd never noticed she had feathers upon her forearms, and it was a delightfully adorable sight to see them flutter in the breeze--

"Your, ah, elbow." He muttered, touching the bandage lightly for a moment before stealing his hand away and folding it neatly beneath the furred coat atop his other forearm. "Something happen, there? Do you happen to treat your own wounds, or does someone else do it for you?" A pause, at that, and he gave a chuckle. "I, ehm, realize how silly that sounds, now. Of course you do. I-- must admit, madame, my thoughts are horribly scattered. Hah. Must be the spring air making me a bit daft-- setting foot on solid ground for the first time in a month has been... nice. This has been quite nice. The-- freedom of it, I mean. I do thank you for going out with me." Hm, that didn't seem to come out right. At all. "To buy herbs, of course." A fortuitous recovery! "Herbs are nice. I absolutely adore them. What-- what happen to be your favorite, doctor? Wormwood? The... other ones we'd written down? I quite liked the sound of some of them. Bergamot is a queer one, don't you think?"

He was thankful for the coat atop his arm, as Emer would hopefully be ignorant as to the fact he was wringing his hands beneath the cloth. What had gotten into him... ?
 
ANNASIEL

"Hm? This?"

She glanced up from counting out her coins, raising her bandaged arm.

"A little cut, nothing more. It seems I've collected quite a plethora recently." She scooped the supplies into one of the bags, holding it out for Emryk. "I do treat myself, yes. I wouldn't want to bother another with what I can handle on my own, you know."

She slid past him - a bit more shopping to do. A few things that weren't at this stall, some sewing supplies, and some child-sized clothes. She didn't know the exact size, but she could estimate in her head.

Emryk's question made her almost halt, eyebrows raised.

"My favorite... herb. Hm. I'm fond of chamomile, of course, and garlic clove as well. Lavender and ginger, the latter for tonic."

She glanced back at him, a hand brushing her ear.

"Do you know much of herbs, Baron Emryk? Have you any favorites?"
 
KATPRIDE

Allegria is not the first town the jeweler fled to, and she doubts it will be the last. At least there’s good business to be found in the loosened coin-purses and good cheer of the festival-goers, and relative anonymity as one booth among many. Really, the smart thing would be to keep her head down and peddle her wares quietly and professionally.

Lula kicks a loose gear off the table and into the small area behind her booth, shading her eyes with a hand as she scans the crowds. It’s so much easier to see everyone from up here!

“One of a kind! Only the finest!” She catches someone’s eye and wastes no time in beckoning them in with a wide wave of her hand. “Rare jewels! Expert craftsmanship!”

People are staring at her. Good. More attention on her means less attention on the tiny birds scrambling around their feet, less eyes on sharp beaks and torn fabric and quiet clanking.

Lula stomps down hard, the wood of the booth trembling under her boots, and a button depresses under her heel. Flowers and streamers shoot from a travel-size air-cannon attached to the side of the booth, cascading over the crowd. Ah, she misses the sound and smoke of the gunpowder version, but it would’ve just set the things on fire and that’d be a bit too much spectacle for today.

More heads turn her way, regardless. “You! Miss! You look like someone with an eye for fine jewelry.”

It’s easy to single out someone in the crowd, a woman with a necklace of flowers not-quite covering a couple other necklaces of decidedly more expensive craft. The woman nods eagerly, stepping closer to the booth, and Lula grins. All goes according to plan.
 
HIGHVOLTAGE

“If I were to stalk you, Caleb O’Cain,” Lucien sneered at the quartermaster. “Rest assured you would not know of it until I buried a blade in your neck.” Or more likely something else, but Lucien did not go around flaunting his vampirism, except for when it suited him. He shifted to face the counter, noticing Caleb’s overpayment for his gauche dagger. A fool and his money are soon parted, after all. Lucien turned his attention back to the blacksmith, studying the blades.

He was never a fan of basket hilts, they felt too restricting. He liked to feel the warmth drip along his sword hand as he dealt a killing blow. The third blade was just atrocious, more fit to be strapped onto a peacock than to anyone who would wield it with precision.

“A noble I am not, sir, nor do I wish to be one.” Lucien responded coldly, his fingers grazing the third blade. “While cutting the sky and shaming the sun are both admirable goals, I would prefer if the weapon I used to do it was not so…..decorative.” It was clear from his tone that ‘decorative’ was the nicest word he could have used.

“And as lovely as I am sure Matilda is,” He tapped the second blade. “I have no desire for your wife’s hips, regardless of how thick they may be.” Lucien’s lips wrapped around ‘thick’ and spat it out like one might do a piece of gristle or fat they unexpectedly found while eating a piece of meat.

“These other two, however.” He pointed to the blades on either end. “Tell me more about them.”
 
FANG

He was doing it again, the half dead scrap eater in black. For the second time in a single day Leo tensed at the presence of another beast, even in his play keeping a wary eye on the vampire. Yet this animal with aristocratic air, this dog of the ship, paid no heed to Leo, another predator by word and by right. The back of his throat seared, flames rose that lay dormant for days. The pretentiousness, the disregard for the lives around him. This Lucien was as bad as the fairies which dominated Leo’s childhood.

”No, you’re no noble,” Leo called out to the man at the counter.”Just a blood sucking leech, right Vampire?” Leo flicked out with his sword-like rod, catching a nearby saber and sending it hurtling, sheathe and all, toward the counter and Lucien.


~~~~


The smith fumbled removing the two swords which the man in black had designated as unworthy, his appraisals and cold responses to the smith’s jokes chilling the mirth from his bones instantly. ”Of course, of course, good sir. Meanin no offense by it. You’re clearly a man of practical tastes, and these here are certainly worthy of your caliber.”

The smith pointed to the first sword, tapping it lightly on the hilt. ”As I said this here épée is a half hilt, designed specifically for gentlemen such as yourself looking for dexterity. The wider, thicker blade is fantastic for both slashing and cutting, and without a basket your hand is free to move about the leather wrapped handle. The blade is a bit short, better for combat in enclosed spaces.” The smith usually sold this type of weapon to sailors and guards, neither of which seemed to fit the customer’s air.

Rather fortunately, at least at first blush, the man-child seemed to take offense with the good sir, and while the smith was thankful for the distraction on his deceptively plainer wares he was quite miffed when one of his sabers came flying across the shop. It wasn’t one of the cheap ones. For safe measure the smith ducked behind his counter, wary of both of the strangers and unwilling to step between whatever this was.
 
QUIRBLES

"Well, I did lead you to a flower stall to look for them," Emryk replied, keeping the bag atop his folded jacket and holding both to his wide chest. Apparently, their work was not yet done-- though herbs had been quickly acquired, herbs were not all they required. The booths that lined the town's main avenue were populated with well-meaning merchants, boastful artisans, and prowling grifters, each with their own wares to peddle.

"So I suppose that should tell you all you--"

Carts were commonplace, too, and one rolled by the pair rather hastily during their walk down the street; Emer, distracted as she was with a glance over her shoulder, seemed destined to impact its broad side... had it not been for a quick pull from the Baron, of course, with a grip that reeled the doctor back against the broad expanse of his torso. He clutched her there a moment, hand resting upon her collarbone-- until he quickly released, using the hand to give a thoughtful rub to his chin. The fingers never reached their destination, however, and the arm hung oddly before his face for a moment as his eyes tracked the wooden behemoth that sprawled by them both.

"... need." He finally said, glancing at the cart as it rolled rather obliviously to its destination, glare still lingering upon it with a bit of unsettling blankness and concern. The Baron gave a lofty sigh of exasperation and relief, both muddled together into an unreadable tiredness that had been provoked in his gaze. It was a dire fatigue-- blank, somewhat, as if the pull had been on instinct, and the grip had not been just for her. No, for a moment, there was a glimpse of something deeper behind the eyes, a paralysis of thought from overbearing memory. His heart hammered fast in his chest. Had it always been so thunderous? No, it was-- a festival. A festival. He was safe. Others were safe. Emer was safe.

"Shall we? Where to next? Apologies, the moment got away from me. Are you quite alright?"
 
ANNASIEL

"Ah, so your true intent comes clear - you led me by hand to a flower stall for the purpose of indulging my tea habits," Emer teased, looking over some peddled clothes from an open tend. Taking a few dresses and trousers and draping them over her arm, she paid the merchant and moved on, drifting aimlessly through the crowd.

This was - nice. A good change. It was calming, to have a bit of normalcy between the chaos, and the presence of the Baron was proving far more delightful than it had any right to be. Moving across the crowd, she watched a carpenter at a sawhorse cutting down some planks, trusting her feet to carry her forward while her mind wandered.

A hard hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. She yelped, her thoughts broken, tugged from sky to earth without warning. She felt the baron's body behind her - and only after realized there was a cart rattling a mere foot in front of her. All of her feathers sticking up on end, she glanced back at the Baron wide-eyed, stepping away a moment after he released her shoulder.

A moment. There was hesitation, there.

"I - thank you. I'm sorry. I was a bit lost in thought."

Were her cheeks purple again?

"I wasn't watching where I - I'm fine. I'm unharmed."

She smiled, if only to put him at ease, trying to calm her hammering heart.

You are empty.

The bustle of the crowd was louder, here, hawkers drowned out by the shouting of children and the sound of games and song. Ah - there was a festival, here, wasn't there? That had been mentioned, offhand, and confirmed by the flower wreathes that decorated many of the stalls.

You are sky.

"This should be all I need. We can make our way back to the ship."
 
QUIRBLES

"I'm just glad you're alright." Emryk offered in softened reply, hand clenching to still the tremors. Good. There was nothing to worry about; his concerns abated, and his smile returned in full. Turning upon his heel, he gave a final glance through the festival's breadth, taking in the sight and sound of bustling folk that had been absent from his memory for so long. It was good, to be amongst people again. Even better to have such gentile company by his side. Her body had been warm upon his, when they both had touched-- smelling of spice and herbal remedy alike. Her feathers had been soft against his arm. Her voice, calming upon the mind. Idly, he pondered--

-- enough of that.

In his searching gaze, the Baron may have found what he had been searching for. Slowly, those amber eyes narrowed to slits, and his smile faded into solemnity.

"Is that..."

It had to be.

"... a strongman competition?"
 
ANNASIEL

Emryk, though, didn't seem quite ready to leave just yet.

She followed his eyes to where he was looking, catching glimpses through the crowd - a pillar of wood with a bell on top, hammer resting beside it.

"I - believe so, yes," she replied. She thought she might've seen something like it before. Something about hitting the target hard enough to ring the bell. She glanced at Emryk. "Would you like to try it?"

She pressed a few silver coins into his hand and smiled.

"I have no doubt you can rise to meet the challenge."
 
UMBRASIGHT

“Had plenty of errands needed doing myself, might as well smell good while doing them.” Nessa said, undoing the lace of her boots as she looked to Sinéad, “Been a restful few days, all considered, since Caleb put us in the drink. Ocean rocking’s sort of relaxing once you get used to it. Might’ve confused my bat though, or maybe the little one’s just taking a little break while fruits are in season.” Best to leave out Emer’s gift, Nessa felt, even if it’d left her the closest she’s felt to alive in quite a long while.

Nessa was quick to finish undressing, and she folded her clothes up neatly before stowing them away. She removed only the ear ornamentation that was at most risk of falling into the water, and those she slid into her boots. She followed Alys into the bathhouse proper, pausing a moment at the door for Juniper and Sinéad to catch up as she pulled her long hair into a loose bun. She drew in a breath of the warm, vaguely sweet air as she stepped through following Alys to the tub she had chosen, rubbing the space where her neck met her fingers with the tips of her fingers.

“Have any plans for the festival? Always some fools with more coin than sense on these types of nights.” She asked, as she slid down into the waters. The warm waters were marvelous, and Nessa willed her body to relax as she slid down until they lapped against her chin. She released a breath as she rolled her head back, resting it on the lip of the tub.

“Goddess that is nice” Nessa sighed.
 
QUIRBLES

Emryk's scaled visage soon came alight with joy as the doctor handed over a batch of coins, his gaze flitting between both her and the high-striker with as if he were observing a bout of royal tennis. A moment later, he dipped down and gave the woman a soft, albeit rushed, embrace-- arms wrapping tight around the doctor to offer a warm hug as a means of thanks before he stepped back and quickly dumped the jacket and herbs into her arms.

"I'll be right back!" He stated. "Or-- follow me! Whichever!" Temperament now an excited child's, he bounded over to the game, an eight-foot tall Al-Ashtavahk cutting through the crowd like a barge through a harbor. Quickly, he approached, making sure to get there before anyone else started a line. Earth below, he hated waiting for things such as these.

The gamemaster would be greeted by a monolothic statue of a man, staring down with a horn-to-horn grin as he held out the silver expectantly.

"Your strongest setting, sire!"
 
DELFI

With the dagger paid for tucked to his belt, and Leo happy with his new toy, Caleb didn't see a reason in staying there any longer. Lucien's threat didn't intimidate him, not because he didn't believe his words, but because if he planned to he would've done it already.

"We're done here, Leo." He said, in a calm demeanor despite finding his fit quite amusing. It wasn't a good idea to pick a fight with the vampire, especially when Sinead wasn't around to put some sense into him. He didn't see if the blade had hit his target, nor did he care as he walked to the exit.

"Let's get you some shoes, then we can grab something to eat at the festival."
 
ANNASIEL

The man running the strength contest was a shorter human, with shaggy brown hair and a somewhat bored expression on his face. As the cataclysmic height of the Baron approached, however, blotting out the sun, his face slowly shifted from boredom, to surprise, to trepidation.

"Right, right," he muttered, taking the silver without bothering to count it. "Fuckin' big lad, ain't ya? Think ya got what it takes?"

He pulled a shaft behind the tower with a clunk, then handed a wooden mallet to Emryk.

Emer stood by the side expectantly, arms folded around her waist, eyes occasionally shifting to the surrounding crowd. If Emryk looked her way, she'd smile.
 
QUIRBLES

The man's description of his stature was quite correct.

"Yes, sire, I am!" The Baron chirped happily, looking back to Emer with a wide grin as he took the mallet and turned it over in his hands. It was a large thing for most, but in the hands of an Al-Ashtavahk... well, he was almost fit to start fixing the Hard Nox with it. "Emer-- are you watching? Look-- at THIS!"

Giving a heave upwards with a suck of air into his lungs, Emryk gave a hearty grunt and slammed the mallet downwards, shoulders and arms tensing as he drove the mallet down into the tower with as much force as he could muster.
 
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