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| [O] Lambs to the Slaughter; Open | |
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| Topic Started: Thu Nov 10, 2011 5:09 pm (556 Views) | |
| Elissandra | Thu Nov 10, 2011 5:09 pm Post #1 |
 
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The Triste Dama pulled into the docks of Taras, drawing several looks from those working them. The gangplank lowered, hitting the dock with a solid-sounding thump, followed by a deeper echo from below as the anchor dropped. A tall, lanky man with dark hair, skin, and eyes left the ship, glancing around before tying the boat off. Placing his fingers to his lips, the man whistled sharply, signaling they were in the clear. Another man, bulky and bearded with a large, plumed hat left the Triste Dama, left hand trailing on the iron railing as he passed them. He looked around before lifting a hand, waving it forward. The dark sailor approached on the captain's right side. As the two walked to the dockside buildings, the captain lifted both hands, tugging the glove off his right, exposing a metal hand, seamless and smooth. Elissandra scratched at her fake beard, grumbling about the discomfort. “You've got ter wear it, cap'n. Trust, nobody will take ye seriously as a woman.” He insisted. “They'll take m'seriously when I put m'fist through their teeth. You know better.” She growled, glaring up at the man. He flushed, setting his gaze ahead. “Tough lesson it were. But I know well any'un who can cap'n the Triste Dama's worth followin. For the stories, if anythin.” Ellie grunted, finally giving in. “'Ow long do I 'ave to wear this ridiculous getup?” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her still-gloved left hand. “Till yer certain the men'll still follow ye as a woman.” Ellie groaned. “Ye know that'll take an age an' an 'alf.” “My condolences.” The two entered the tavern, greeted by loud music, lots of shouting, and the smell of dozens of men in an enclosed space. Ellie wrinkled her nose, brow furrowing. “Keep that, cap'n. It'll help ye. Looks are all ye need to work on, ye've got the manner of a man well enough as is.” Ellie gave him a sideswiping punch, approaching a semi-empty table. The single, lonely man sitting there looked up to them, paling at the dark-skinned man and shorter, more intimidating figure. Ellie slammed a hand down on the table, fingers outstretched. The mead in his mug slopped over. He took his mug up, looking quite startled. Ellie jerked at him, giving a growl. He scurried off, leaving the table empty. “Found us a spot.” She waved a hand at her crewman. He hid a smile as she sat down. Kicking out a chair, he stood on it, bowing to the quarter of the tavern paying attention. “If I might 'ave yer attention!” he spread his arms out wide. “It's lookin the Ironhand, Cap'n Durrall, is needin a crew to help run 'is ship. We can promise a fair bit o' fun an' adventure on th' Moonsea, along with a good pay. Maybe, if ye do a good job, ye could gather a bit o'... reputation.” He winked to the men, about half of the crowd watching now. A round of laughter began as he sat down, beaming. Cassie looked alarmed, cursing. “They're laughin at us, ye dolt.” She hissed. “They're men. Not about ter admit they want reputation ter boost their egos. 'Course they're goin ter laugh, but they'll make their way o'er 'ere.” He leaned back, picking at his nails with a small dagger. “'Sides, the one who stay won't 'ave enough balls ter do any amount o' fair on a pirate's ship.” |
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| Shan Orison | Fri Nov 11, 2011 2:00 am Post #2 |
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Perched on an empty barrel in a back corner, Shan Orison, traveling bard, played in the dock bar, the stench of old beer and unwashed sailor shutting down his sense of smell. He'd begun to grow a soft spot for Taras after a number of adventures that didn't end horribly, except for the one where he died for a few minutes. He guessed most of the men drinking here were simply mercenaries for hire, now spending what they earned on the last job while waiting for the next. He normally steered clear of such men, but he'd spent enough time with pirates and mercs now to navigate the stormy waters of their taverns without too much incident. Keep up the tunes, always take requests, and never trust the drinks. He was living off the water in his hip flask at the moment, refilling it discreetly with summoned water. No one was drugging him this time. Granted, no one was paying particular attention to him. He was a part of the background here, just another sound over the shouts, laughs, and occasional growls of challenge floating about the bar. Occasionally someone would shout for him to play something, but he was mostly left to his own devices. He liked that. The door opened, and the room quietly slightly as everyone inspected the newcomer. One wore a rather over the top plumed hat and an impressive beard. The other, a dark skinned man with dreadlocks, walked a step behind him. Everyone started back up quickly as the two men simply walked over to an almost unoccupied table and intimidated the lone person there away. Dreadlocks kicked out a chair, stood on it, and announced he was looking for members for a crew, adding in that it would boost their reputation as well as their gold. Shan stopped playing as the bar quieted and listened, but shook his head and softly grinned as everyone laughed and ignored the newcomer, who sat at his table with his mate. Offering money was one thing, but reputation? That was amateurish. It suggested he was new to the idea of captaining. The hat looked new enough. If he were big, after all, he would have to advertise that sort of thing. Not like it involves us, Shan's second thoughts said as he played with closed eyes. Just keep playing and make everyone happy. Free bed and a meal out of this gig, after all, plus ale. Edited by Shan Orison, Fri Nov 11, 2011 2:34 am.
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| Graham Sideas | Fri Nov 11, 2011 2:25 am Post #3 |
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The skies over the docks seemed to darken as the colossal of a ship moved in, almost crushing a dock under it's bulk as it found a comfortable place amongst the ships. Carvings covered every inch of it's beautifully crafted hull, and one wouldn't be surprised to know that it had once been a piece of art on display, it's beautiful dragon figure-head and the wings on the side thought to be a nice touch. It's new owner knew better then that, however, and had freed the old girl from her prison. The captain of the ship, Ragnarok, had taken it from the cold dead hands of it's previous owner, and no one would question if he kept that severed hand as a message. The ship set down it's docking rigs, making sure it was fastened well before the real crew stepped off, the mercenaries having been hired for the trip already paid and shuffling off into the shadows. The captain of the Ragnarok had quickly grown tired of their presence, regardless. He would need to ensure at least one or two of them didn't make it far this night. They had seen too much. A sing-song voice came from behind the brooding figure as he stood out at the docks, examining them closely, "Wondering which to target, yes? You always impress me with how much you remind me of my old kin." Ahriman Lordimar turned his head to regard the only crew member who had remained static since he had begun to recruit again, the dark elf smiling at him through ebony black lips. Those green eyes bored into him, and Ahriman couldn't help but drift down to the ponytail that hung next to the elf's head, the charm on it very obviously made by surface elves. This creature was strange, even by his people's standards. Ahriman turned his head and scoffed, shaking his head, "I am merely wondering which place offers me the best drink, Val'anye. Nothing more." He noted with a smile the smirk on the elf's face, early in their relationship the two had made it clear that they would prefer if the captain had stopped his silly disguising of his true voice and self. He was already famous enough on the seas that an accent wouldn't fool would-be assassins anyway. He had to admit the elf had a certain point when it came to using one's reputation as a weapon. Dark elves were always an impressive lot, honestly. As Ahriman stepped off the boarding ramp of the ship, a wolf followed on his heels. The beast, Garm by name, followed closely to his master's heels. It was never comfortable with this place, and he had to admit that he couldn't blame the beast. They had lost more then a few friends on these shadowed docks. The bar wasn't hard to find, and the sight of the two men and their plumed hats quickly parted the crowd that had gathered outside. The sound of song and cheer came from inside, and Ahriman had to admit to a certain elevation of his spirits. He decided he wouldn't splinter the door, but merely step through. He opened the door, dock rats and thieves squirming to get out of his way. He was the king of these waters, and you didn't cross the king. Ahriman stepped in first, his elf companion having his hat pulled low, but still not hiding his heritage at all. The mixture of the two caused a hush over the bar, more then one man seeming openly angry about the appearance. Drow elves weren't appreciated here, and Ahriman knew that amused his first-mate to no end. "Watch your hands, Val'anye. I would hate to see one cut off to keep it from that blade of yours." The elf smiled, pushing past his captain and squirming through the people to get himself a drink, the wolf quickly following the elf. The captain looked out over the bar, absently running a hand up and down the scar that ran the length of the entire left side of his jaw. His eyes finally fell upon the bard, and he honestly couldn't hide the smile on his face. It had been a while since Ahriman Lordimar had worn that smile. [Note: Did the wrong account, I'll post as Ahri next time.] Edited by Graham Sideas, Fri Nov 11, 2011 2:26 am.
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| Dali | Fri Nov 11, 2011 5:58 pm Post #4 |
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Dali had liked having a table to himself. How that happened he had no idea, but he'd been grateful for it. And then some big bearded captain and his black skinned first mate had...well, just sort of loomed really. They hadn't threatened him with words - the captain had simply hit the table hard enough to spill the mead Dali hadn't planned on drinking anyway and then told him, with a growl and a jerk of a thumb, to take a hike. Dali didn't need any more motivation. He left the table to the two men and found a handy wall to lean against. He didn't belong here. He wasn't a sailor. He'd been on a ship a few times, though it was usually in the capacity of stowaway. He was risking, and risking big, becoming the target of some drunken sea dog's hatred of landlubbers. And for Dali to risk anything, there had to be something bigger and nastier behind him. Like, say, the description of a half-elf of about five foot something with no hair and a stutter, who might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time when a valuable ruby brooch had disappeared. A wrong place like, say, the back stairs, trying to get out of the rain. And maybe someone like, for example, the real thief had surprised him and the half-elf had taken himself out of there at high speed, which hadn't looked good in the eyes of local law enforcement, who (as it turned out) had very long arms. So, with most of the countryside looking for him with a noose, Dali had decided that a change of scenery would be good for his health. And, lo and behold, there was the Moonsea. Now all he needed was a captain who would be willing to take on a very inexperienced sailor. “If I might 'ave yer attention!” It was the first mate of the captain who had taken the table from him. “It's lookin the Ironhand, Cap'n Durrall, is needin a crew to help run 'is ship. We can promise a fair bit o' fun an' adventure on th' Moonsea, along with a good pay. Maybe, if ye do a good job, ye could gather a bit o'... reputation.” It took Dali a moment to metally translate that. Once he did, it didn't seem like too bad a plan. Adventure he was not so keen on, repuation he could care less about, and his idea of fun and their's probably weren't the same, but the good pay and the (most importantly) time away from land had certain appeal. He pulled himself away from the wall and headed back over to the table to put in an application. He hadn't yet made it there when the other captain and the drow walked into the bar. |
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| Elissandra | Mon Nov 14, 2011 5:29 pm Post #5 |
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Ellie leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms and kicking her feet up on a chair. As the crowd returned to their business, she found a few among them looking her way every once in a while. One got up and walked over, a rat-faced sailor with filthy clothes. He swaggered heavily, looking quite full of himself. Elissandra was not impressed, but she needed hands. Her first mate glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She nodded ever-so-slightly, keeping her eyes trained on the man's. He lost some of his confidence as he locked eyes with her. “What makes ye believe yerself worth the trouble of feedin ye?” The dark man asked, sitting on the edge of the table. Rat scratched the scruff on his neck. “Ahve been sailing these seas fer six years now, reckon I know my way around a ship.” Rat lowered his gaze as the first mate gave him a once over, grunting approval. “Wash up before we leave, not havin ye smell up m'ship. The man beamed and headed for the door to the tavern, doors opening in front of him. He, along with many of the other patrons, got out of the newcomer's way. Ellie turned her head to look at the man who caused so much stir. If she hadn't been wearing a fake beard, her jaw would have dropped open. Her first mate wasn't from anywhere near these parts, the jungles of the Astendan Isles serving as an excellent insulator against outside rumors and tales, and as such didn't recognize the man in the east, merely cocked an eyebrow, looking at Ellie curiously. She flushed and took her gaze off the other captain, looking forward and setting her jaw, refusing to look in his direction. Doing so brought to her attention the man she'd kicked out of the table. Slapping her first mate's leg with the back of her hand, she pointed at the half-elf. Standing from his perch on the edge of the table, the dark-skinned sailor clapped his hands together once, jerking his chin at the man. “And 'ow 'bout ye? What makes ye think yer worth the space on the Triste Dama?” Ellie let her crewman take care of it as she looked over her disguise, making sure her overlarge clothing was well-padded, chest strapped down, beard in place, gloves on, hat and dirt concealing the feminine features of her face. |
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| Shan Orison | Tue Nov 15, 2011 12:33 am Post #6 |
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Shan looked up as the crowd fell silent, letting his bow rest to fit the suddenly hushed atmosphere. He followed everyone's gaze to the now open door, where a tall, rugged man and a drow walked in, their postures casual like a pair of tigers wandering through the jungle. Accompanying them was a large wolf, whose demeanor was also calm, and far more docile than a wild beast would normally exhibit when surrounded by so many people. They wore plumed hats, but on them it didn't come off as overbearing. They wore them like a soldier would wear a helmet; it was part of the uniform. Shan felt the bar tense as they looked over the newcomers. The bard couldn't tell what they were put off by, but it was probably the dark elf's presence. He'd heard more than a few slurs in the docks about drow and their gods that would get them killed in the Deep Caverns. A word from the rugged human - well, a sentence - aimed toward the drow seemed to settle the ruffled members of most of the bar. The storm front passed, and Shan began playing a simple, jaunty tune to shift everyone's moods back to the simple pleasures of gossiping, gambling, and drinking. He kept his eyes on the newcomers, however. The drow and the wolf parted ways from their companion, headed toward the bar. The man who could calm a tavern of drunken brigands looked over the crowd, his eyes settling on Shan in his corner and smiling, stretching the scar on his cheek. Shan was working, and didn't want to abandon his status as "the guy with the fiddle," so he only responded with a slight nod. Ahirman Lordimar, Pirate Prince of the high seas in more ways than one. It'd been some time since Shan had seen him last, and even longer since he first met the captain as a scared, filthy captive of another band of pirates. He seemed to be doing well, as was the wolf Garm and the drow, whoever he was. Shan kept playing, keeping the melodies in high spirits. There was still tension from the drow's presence, after all. If things got any worse, he'd need to be prepared to Calm the crowd as only a Muse could. Edited by Shan Orison, Tue Jan 3, 2012 5:37 am.
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| Ahriman Lordimar | Tue Nov 15, 2011 1:46 am Post #7 |
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Ahriman took little notice of any of the others in the bar, his eyes set fully upon the bard and feeling the flood of memories coming back to him. Some were pleasant, of course, though a few stung deeply. Images of a trap that he had stumbled into flashed into his eyes, reminding him painfully of the path that had brought him here, but he was reminded again that the bard had helped him through that. Shan Orison was good people in Ahriman's eyes. He pushed through the crowd, moving his gaze left and right now and again to keep vigilant. Just because one saw an old friend didn't mean enemies weren't lurking around as well. Before Ahriman even reached the bard his shadow was behind him again, a hand gripping at the brim of his hat and a pearly white smile pressing in on his ebony features. Val'anye's eyes drifted far more then his captain's, his life in his homeland having long put a feeling of careful paranoia in him that would rival even ten of the most paranoid humans. He remained silent, however, the wolf the elf dancing gingerly around one another's steps in line with their captain. Ahriman stopped short and crossed his arms over his chest, a smile crossing over his face. He burst out into rolling laughter, something that eased the tension of at least a few men who were worried for very good reasons. The captain of the Ragnarok had gotten himself quite a reputation, one that would name him as a dangerous man to anger. And it was quite a few occasions now that had helped make it clear that angering him wasn't the most difficult thing to do. He held out his hand, his voice rolling with an accent that he had only used once or twice around the bard, "It's good to see you again, Shan. It's good to see that life is a little better for you then last we met. No pirates making you play 'til you tire to unravel maps?" There was a mirth in his voice that brought a curious furrow to Val'anye's brow, the elf keeping a few paces back but keeping an ear cocked to the conversation. He was always keen on learning more about people, friend or foe. In the world of the drow, and the world of the pirate or thief for that matter, the line between the two was malleable, if it existed at all. Ahriman had made a note of the other figures in the bar on his way over, and took special note of the other crew of pirates, one of his eyes usually wondering their way when he looked over his shoulder. Something bothered him about them, if only because it was competition for jobs. it could solely be that, he was sure, but his gut was telling him something was out of sorts. He hadn't survived almost three decades by ignoring those instincts, and he had long ago accepted that listening them would keep him going to at least four or five decades. Much after that and he had to be honest he'd probably accept the killing stroke. He smiled softly as he wondered if that would come from the front or the back, and if it would be in a situation like the one he was standing in then. He made another note to himself that he seemed to always be in these situations. He missed his tropical home, wishing for a nice vacation spot to relax and soak in hedonism for a while. |
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| Dali | Tue Nov 15, 2011 4:11 am Post #8 |
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Dali's eyes darted over the newcomers. Another captain and his first mate, who was a dark elf. Dali felt a momentary shiver of fear, but it passed. He was not particularly racist - he was afraid of everyone. He considered himself an equal opportunity coward. He focused his attention back on the first mate and the captain he was applying to. "What makes ye think yer worth the space on the Triste Dama?" the first mate said. Dali hadn't thought this far ahead really. He groped about for anything - anything at all - that would make him an asset. Opening locks didn't seem particularly useful to a sailor. "Um...I don't get s-s-sea s-s-sick." This didn't seem to impress anyone. And then the muse of inspiration struck him with a hammer, "I can cook. I'm a good cook. I can cook for l-lots of p-p-people too." He rifled through his memories for anything else useful. "I can s-s-swim," was all he could think of. None of these seem like very good quailifications. He felt like he'd blown this interview already. |
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| Elissandra | Tue Nov 15, 2011 5:48 pm Post #9 |
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Ellie felt her hopes of finding a worthwhile crew slipping away as the man described his qualifications. And that she accepted them. Cocking an eyebrow, she nodded. The first mate turned back to the man and gave him a toothy smile. “Well, at least ye can cook. And ye've got a bit more goin fer ye than the rat before ye. Welcome aboard.” He extended a large hand. Ellie felt her eyes wandering back to the other captain. He hadn't recognized her, which did wonders for her confidence in this plan and its ridiculous getup. Leaning over the table, she gestured to her first mate. The man leaned back, listening and nodding. “got it.” He returned his attention to Dali. “Got a first task for ye. See tha' man o'er there?” He pointed at Ahriman. “Tell 'im the Cap'n of the Triste Dama is invitin 'im to sail with us.” Ellie paid little attention to the exchange itself, cursing herself even as she indirectly charged the new crewman to go invite the pup to join her. He was unpredictable, had many enemies, and she hadn't even seen him in ages. The first mate leaned back to her, looking her in the eye. “What's th' story, cap'n?” He whispered. She put her hands together and set them on the table. “E's 'n absolute dog. But 'e knows 'is way about th' waters, an' it can't hurt any ter have 'im aboard. 'sides, 'e saved m' arse once.” She tapped a short-nailed finger on the wood. “Mixin business with pleasure?” Elissandra flushed again, thankfully well-hidden by false facial hair. “Watch yer tongue or i'll feed ye to m'ship.” The man hid a laugh, exiting the whispered exchange. Ellie's brow furrowed, mood thoroughly soured. Truth be told, nothing good could come of this adventure as it were. An inexperienced crew whose trustworthiness would be either set or shot, but that wouldn't be known until they were on the sea, and not for certain until their first battle. |
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| Shan Orison | Thu Nov 17, 2011 1:39 am Post #10 |
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Slowly but persistently, Ahriman made his way through the crowd toward the disregarded corner. At one point, he must have noticed the tension still in the crowd caused by his companion and gave a hearty laugh that filled the room. Oddly, that quieted things down, like the yawn of a lion who was satisfied to sunbathe at the moment and ignore the herd of deer nearby, as long as the deer didn't block his sun. The tension in the room went down another notch, and Shan himself began to relax. "It's good to see you again, Shan," Ahriman said, extending a hand and holding a bright grin. "It's good to see that life is a little better for you then last we met. No pirates making you play 'til you tire to unravel maps?" "Not of late, Captain, though I do give dirty looks to those who request that song," Shan grinned, putting his violin down beside him to return the handshake. A small touch of will, however, caused the violin strings to suppress and the bow to move on its own, creating music without Shan's guidance in the shadows. Probably someone watching Ahriman would notice, but the Animate spell was quite cheap for instruments, and the only thing it could do was cause the instrument to play by itself. If they knew about instrument enchantments, they would just shrug. Stupider ones might consider stealing the instrument, but Shan was less than worried about that. "It's good to see you in one piece," Shan said. "And that Garm is okay and you've seemed to have found someone you literally trust to watched your back." Shan nodded to the dark elf and reached out to pet the wolf. "I've been keeping myself busy. Traveling, gathering tales, playing for a bit of coin. However, while I've been working to avoid a reputation, you've seem to have built one that's reaching for the stars, if everyone's reactions are to go by." Shan took a slug from his flask. "I'm owed some ale, if you want a glass. I've been drinking water, myself. Easier to run when you're the only sober one in the chase. "So, what brings you to this shabby little port, Captain? Looking for me, or is this just serendipity?" |
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| Ahriman Lordimar | Thu Nov 17, 2011 2:27 pm Post #11 |
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Ahriman crossed his arms and smiled, looking towards the violin for a moment with an amused smile. The instrument had always proven to be quite useful, even if it was only to play the right tune to coax a map out of a magical piece of paper. He had a minor mental image of the violin being used to bash someones head in without the strings stopping from playing, a cruel side of his smile appearing for only a moment as he imagined a few choice people behind that swing. A few good thoughts kept a man going, after all. "I think even if I see a century that song will not be one I'm remarkably fond of, honestly." He turned his head and noticed the slight cock of Val'anye's eyebrow, knowing the obvious question without him having to speak it, "What would you do with a drunken sailor, a rather jaunty sea-faring tune on the surface. When you hear it a dozen and a half times inside of a few hours you start hating it, really." The elf chuckled to himself and shook his head, turning his attention away from the conversation and back to the crowd. Ahriman had a clue as to what interested the ebony skinned warrior but kept that to himself. He'd let the drow have his fun, playing games in his own mind to create schemes that no one else was even thinking of to justify something he would do later. It'd make sense if one thought of it, but Ahriman knew the elf to know anything he thought of was likely a little too insidious or convoluted for most surface dwellers. He wasn't often fond when Val'anye's paranoia turned out right. The hair on the back of his neck pointed at this likely being true. The elf began to slink into the crowd, even with his stark contrast to the people it was difficult to see him. Ahriman would have liked to claim that he taught the lad that, but he knew the skill Val'anye showed was just as much as his own, his race always the sort to make the skill of stealth the sort of thing that even a toddler could pull off. He shrugged as the elf disappeared, "He's a good enough of a sort. More honor then I've seen in his kind, even if it's misguided. And it helps he's sworn to me, at least for now. And Garm refused to let me enter town alone, at least now that the ships a bit.. quieter." His smile didn't diminish but a sad gaze came over his eyes, his eyes scanning over the room and in each face he saw a bit of the crew he had lost, his gaze becoming a bit happier as he turned back to the bard, "Though it does my heart good to see you doing well, but I'll decline the ale. For now, at least. I have a feeling It'd be better if I had my wits about me, you know. If you need to run, who will make sure nothing flies at your back after all?" He couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled a nearby set of chairs and a table to the pair so they could sit down and not be two twits standing amongst a bar full of people. He was never fond of standing in crowds, too many ways a dagger can come at his spine. As he took his seat the only answer he could truly find for the quest was a sigh, his eyes wandering over the crowd once again, "We needed supplies so I guess you could call it serendipity? Val was getting sick of the waters, mostly because it irritates him I suppose, and I needed to see if I couldn't get some extra hands. The ship I have now isn't as high maintenance, thankfully, but it's still good to relax a bit. Lots of things to be done, after all. A king has to rule his kingdom, and mine is the sea." He smiled, leaving it at that. His reputation would remain something he'd keep to himself if the bard didn't know it. He may be known as an honorable man, but also temperamental. More then one crew would likely exaggerate a tale of anger that Ahriman Lordimar showed and make him seem like a devil. The eyes of some upon him told him that guess may not be far from the truth. |
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| Dali | Thu Nov 17, 2011 4:03 pm Post #12 |
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They...hired him. That was pretty much a shock. The captain and the first mate exchanged a few words in voices to low for Dali to here. Then the dark man turned back to the half-elf. “Got a first task for ye. See tha' man o'er there?” he said, pointing to the plumed hat that just walked into the bar. “Tell 'im the Cap'n of the Triste Dama is invitin 'im to sail with us.” Dali swallowed hard, but didn't object. That would be a bad way to start this voyage. He started over to where he'd last seen the man, weaving his way through the crowd. He passed the drow, nearly brushing shoulders with him. Dali's eyes flicked over his face and for a very brief second, their eyes locked. Then the elf gave a smile that screamed 'death' and moved on, leaving Dali feeling very shaken and a little sick. "Step vvvverrrrry careful here, Dali," he said to himself. "Any man who makes a friend like that is a dangerous man." He weaved his way through the crowd until he reached the table where the man and his friend sat. He was approaching the friend from the back and all he could see was a head of bright red hair. Violin music played under the constant noise of conversation. It reminded him of Shan and he distantly wondered if the bard was still alive. He set the thought aside and focused on the other man, "Message for you, s-s-sir," he said to him with a casual salute. "The captain of the Triste Dama would l-l-like a word with you." He turned and pointed back in the direction of the table from which he had come, then turned back to hear the man's reply. Then he got a glimpse of the red-headed man's face and of the violin playing itself and - speak of the devil - it was Shan. "Oh," Dali said, surprised, "Hi S-Shan." |
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| Elissandra | Thu Nov 17, 2011 7:50 pm Post #13 |
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As the man left, Ellie sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her first mate watched the half-elf leave and took a seat next to Ellie, looking all-too ready to start a brawl if anyone tried anything. He was unused to the crowds of rowdy men in a tavern, on edge despite the cool head he showed to the patrons. She watched him, conscious of the fact that he was uncomfortable. The man was from the isles, where there were no loud, bustling taverns. And, most worrying, there were few casual bar fights. His people didn't understand the concept of getting drunk, to them it was frowned upon at all times. As such, the only time they fought was in sparring in a formal setting and when under attack. She worried the lines would be blurred if a brawl began. The rat-faced man returned to the tavern, hair still wet and face covered in much less filth, though not completely. He approached and sat, carrying a faint wave of odor with him, an improvement over the tidal wave of stench he held before. “Gods, 'ow can so little a man 'old so great a smell?” the man asked. Rat-face flushed, accepting the commentary without complaint, cowed by the large man and bulky captain. Ellie grinned at the man's disdain for polite conversation, refusing to censor himself for the sake of hurting feelings. Looking him over, Turin crossed his arms. “I've got a job for ye. The Triste Dama's in need o' a bit of cleanin. Been the two o' us since the isles, an' she's been in dire need o' it fer years. The black ship with gray sails.” The man nodded, deciding the first orders fair enough. After he left Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Ye think lettin a man we dunno 'board m'ship alone an' unsupervised is a good idea?” “Th' Lady can 'andle 'erself, cap'n. She's yours, full an' true. Nobody's takin her from ye.” |
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| Shan Orison | Fri Nov 18, 2011 2:02 am Post #14 |
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Shan nodded and smiled. It was good seeing Ahriman in one piece, alive and doing better than ever, even without a proper crew. He was half tempted to ask to ride along with him, except he'd most likely be useless and much preferred land. The sea was Ahriman's domain, and the roads were his, though he'd hardly consider himself their king. "You have a point on the ale," Shan said. The drow slinked off somewhere. "How did you meet your friend, anyway? The tale of a seafaring dark elf is worth hearing, if I'm any judge. How's he getting on with Mora? Oh, and how is Mora herself doing?" "Message for you, s-s-sir," a voice stuttered from behind. "The captain of the Triste Dama would l-l-like a word with you." Shan's eyebrow raised. That voice, that wheedling tone, that damn stutter. It couldn't be... Shan turned to see a bald man touched with elvish ancestry point toward the table where the other captain and his mate sat. He seemed poised to flee at the first hint of movement, and attempted to cower on his own, an interesting feat to witness. Shan's other eyebrow raised. It was him. The half elf turned back and widened his eyes in shock. Apparently, he only recognized Shan at that moment. "Oh. Hi, S-Shan." "Dali, you old devil! How are you?" Shan said with a grin. "Who else is hiding in here, I wonder? Ahriman, this is Dali. We met a while back when I helped him out of some, um, well, I helped him out a bit near Taras. Dali, this is Ahriman Lordimar. The wolf is Garm. Don't worry, he won't hurt you." Shan gestured to each in turn, smiling and hoping his assurance would ease Dali's mind. "You decided to join that crew over there? Never pictured you as a pirate myself." Shan's eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. "So...care to share why they hired you? Anything to do with your, you know, skills?" The other pirates hiring Dali suggested one of two things to Shan's mind. One, they were utterly desperate, since Dali managed to out-coward Shan regularly, which was its own accomplishment. The other was they knew of Dali's talents when it came to locks, which hinted that, though they might be having an open enrollment for their crew, they had a particular piece of treasure in mind, one that needed a gifted locksmith to obtain. If it was the latter, Shan's interests were piqued even more than a strange offer to Ahriman to join another man's crew. |
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| Ahriman Lordimar | Fri Nov 18, 2011 2:36 am Post #15 |
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Ahriman's eyes piqued with interested when he heard of this other crew. Someone wished to sail with him? Oh, this would be interesting. It was either a trap or someone looking to gain something, if the captain had any guess towards it all. He looked towards the half-elf that had given the message, his passing interest for the figure growing as it turned out Shan had known him. Ahriman nodded his head, deciding that if Shan approved of the lad then he was probably good people. The bard was a good enough sort to offer any of his friends such things. He smiled as his mind finished it's scheming, "It seems my tales of a drow sailor will have to wait, my dear Shan. And Mora is fine, even has a larger hull to rest in. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go see what they want. If you'd like, come along. Your instrument can handle itself, can it not?" The smirk he gave as he walked off told of schemes within schemes working through Ahriman's head. As he passed the half-elf, Dali was the name Shan had given, he thought, he tapped his shoulder in an appreciative gesture. Before he reached four steps away from the pair Val'anye, his shadow, had returned to him. The elf turned back towards the half-elf and the bard and ran a hand along the rim of his hat. The dark elf huffed and decided that he would let it be. He had his secrets, the captain could have his own. Ahriman's nose was insulted as he neared the table, the lingering odor of the rat man assailing him even above the scent of blood, ale, and whatever else was in the tavern air. He'd have to remember to bathe twice as hard next time he got around to it, or at least bring dome soap into the water next time he fell into the drink. It happened often enough near shores that he could do it without much worry, at least. He took a seat at the table, his first-mate retrieving a chair to sit next to his captain, Ahriman unaware that he was talking to someone he had already met not that long ago. The captain put his hands into a steeple as he leaned on the table, sizing up the pair and deciding he could at least be sure if they wanted him dead they'd likely be the sort to do it in an upfront battle. He finally shrugged and sighed, minor disappointment in his voice, "I imagine if you're inviting me I can skip the pleasantries, so what is it you want?" Val'anye couldn't help but snicker next to his captain as he crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against his chair. He decided that if this came to blows his first target would be the enemies first-mate, letting it be a battle of roles against roles. That would be another kill, another number to the count that he owed. If he could get both then even better. He couldn't resist speaking through his teeth, "If I get a kill you worked down does that count towards my oath, Lordimar?" Ahriman turned his head and gave Val'anye a look that told him such a thing wouldn't be recommended, regardless. The elf shrugged and remained silent, feigning disinterest in the whole thing. This wasn't his matter, then. Ahriman sighed and returned to his position leaning against the table, "And perhaps a more important question, if your answer is for me to sail with you, why?" |
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