Kalvant nods. "I remember half-elf, last time I checked, I hadn't backed out on my promise. In fact, last time I checked, I'd not backed out on any promise I've made since I became an adult." He says in a low voice. "You being on or off the islands won't make a difference in that. All that will matter is the additional effort that will be needed."
Alsatia smiles at Reaghar "You are very welcome." Then she turns to Selvan. "You should follow him around, and take notes. He is polite, and if he doesn't have anything nice to say, he keeps his mouth shut."
Connor glanced at Reaghar, Alister, and Elrohir for support. "I don't want you stuck in a pig cesspool while the rest of us prove to the elders here that they've got a traitor in their midst. And besides," Connor argued, "if you didn't care about your teammates you wouldn't have tried so hard to keep Alys alive when I was holding a crossbow at your back." Connor looked at Alys with his last sentence.
"You did?", Alys whispered more to herself, looking at Sam, before he could respond.
Connor looked like he was about to reply when Alsatia came in. He took one of the watercress sandwiches. Letting the others talk, he wolfed down the food, washing it down with a glass of the fruit juice. As an afterthought, he had the astral construct come down from the upper stacks and start collecting any empty plates and glasses, including his own.
"My point is," Connor continued, looking at Sammark and Kalvant, "is that we won against Kol because we're flying below the lighthouse light right now. Nobody knows about us. If we continue doing what the Mintakias want us to do, who knows what -ahem- indiscretions we can get away with? If we stick together." To Kalvant he said "Actually, it was Selvan's idea to throw the cask of gunpowder into the central fireplace. We needed a distraction for the mob outside. But the resulting explosion was even better, because of that retired knight."
"You're still barking up the wrong tree talking like that, pigeon," Sam said, sparing a glance at Connor, "But I'll go."
Connor nodded, surprised at Sammark's acquiesce. "Fine! As long as our new team stays together."
Looking back at Kalvant, Connor asked, since everyone else was being so quiet, "So what do you have us on? A cargo skyship? A long-term warship doing annual patrols? A shuttle between Atalntia and the surface? What's the weather there right now?" He looked thoughtfully at the others. "We are woefully lacking in a battle medic. I have some tattoos, but I'll need more. A lot more. Reaghar can do tattoos, but I can't do the mind-power. So I'll have to ask if you have a healer on staff-" Connor's voice trailed off as he looked at Alsatia, still going from person to person. "Can you do natural healing as a standard mind-power, Alsatia, or are you limited to that, er, aura-surge just now?" he questioned. Connor looked at Reaghar again. "If we're keeping this to the minimum people, Reaghar has done tattoos before with me providing the pattern. If you could provide the talent, Reaghar can ink the tattoo on me, I'll-" Connor broke off, looking at the glint in Alsatia's eyes, and quickly amended his statement with "I'm just asking for in-house assistance."
Alsatia smiles. "Sure hon, I can do that. In return, you make that thing look like someone else from now on. Go with Selvan there, then I can have happy thoughts when someone smashes it to pieces." She gives Selvan a sacharine smile.
Kalvant snorts. "Well, you lot are Mirandi's folks, so I'll have to ask her, but she needs you with intact covers, at least until she finds out who is routing magic items out of the disposal bureau." He waves a hand negligantly, and takes another swig off his mug. "I do have a mission I could use some people on, you'll need a crash course in being a sailor. A friend of a friend does odd jobs for the Council. Reville ship, so you four should fit right in at least." He looks at the entire assembled crew, and his eyes narrow. "You never heard this. Anyway, the Council wants to expand trade with the surface. But it's a political hot potato, so nobody wants to actually go on record voting for it." He shrugs. "So, this friend of a friend is going to be doing some surveying and trying to find more people to trade with on the surface. He needs some crew though that won't mind being off Atalantia for a long period of time, and that's you lot. Right now, we have open trade with four countries, one major port each."
"Travel around, drink mysterious booze, crack exotic heads. I'll go. But as Connor said, even if he did basically sign away my skill for peanuts, I will need lots of ink. All that you can get, if it's to be a long trip."
"It'll be good to be back on a ship. Don't worry pigeon. I'm sure with your snowy plumage you'll find a comfortable place as the cabin boy," Sam said, easing back into his natural state of idle disrespect.
"It's not like leaving the island hasn't crossed my mind before. I think I might as well take the opportunity to see places."
Alsatia smiles. "Sure hon, I can do that. In return, you make that thing look like someone else from now on. Go with Selvan there, then I can have happy thoughts when someone smashes it to pieces." She gives Selvan a sacharine smile.
"The construct?" Connor mentions as he turns and looks at the figure, which has put down the empty plates and glasses on one of the uncomfortable couches. "No need." It simply fades from view. Connor sat back down on another empty couch, listening to Kalvant.
Connor winced at Reaghar's remark, snorted at Sammark's pip, and settled back, making a list in his head. Different clothing for different climes. All the tattoo ink and needles he could afford. A new crossbow and dagger, to replace the confiscated ones. And healing. Lots of healing tattoos and alchemical items. Connor looked around the room at the others. That I will put on each person here. I just wish I could afford a good book or two. Maybe I'll help with the surveying as well as being a sailor.
"One of these days I'll learn how to convert all the petty insults and verbal jabs directed at me into electricity and retire a wealthy man." Selvsn remarks dryly ignoring the halvavian.
"And if I could bottle your personality, I could make a fortune selling it as general purpose repellent." Alsatia jabs back easily, almost without even putting effort into it.
Selvan opens his mouth to say something then shrugs and returns to his quiet observant state of the room.
Connor looked at his new and old teammates. Selvan: a sour attitude. Sammark: with a chip on his shoulder. Alys: apparently shell-shocked. Alister: grumpy. Reaghar: gruff. Elrohir: keeping his mouth shut for a change. Kalvant, his new boss: watching everybody. We're about as much fun as a Clan elders annual budget meeting. Connor thought to himself.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Connor got up off the couch. "All right!" he exclaimed with a smile, clapping his hands. "We're alive, about to be to pick up new outfits and gear, and we're going on a long cruise that doesn't end in a penal colony. Pinch me, but there are worse things in life! Why, we're even traveling to lands most city-dwellers wouldn't see in their lifetimes. With luck, we'll all come back richer and wiser." Connor spun in a slow circle. "All we have to do," he added, "is learn to work a skyship. Maybe even get to work together. Because I don't fancy being on the wrong end of a scattergun again. So let's make our lists of how to keep our minds active on a voyage - since I don't doubt the ship's captain will keep us from being bored!" Connor tried to have an uplifting tone with the last sentence.
Flick had been quiet this whole time, listening intently to the various conversations and all the back and forth. Despite his hyperactive personality, he was a rather insightful young man, and tried to examine problems from all angles. Thankfully, this one wasn't too difficult.
"Well, I don't exactly have much keeping me here, so a chance to join the army, see the world, go sailing, sounds interesting to me. Uh, I'm gonna need a new bow however otherwise, I'm not much good to anybody"
Over the next week, the 7 get to take it easy, and also to put in requests for new equipment, and get armor fitted in private with an armorer that their hosts trust to keep his mouth shut.
They are also given crash courses in airships and being a sailor. They are quizzed on the basics of an airship, and also on the basics of sailing in general.
Eventually, Mirandi's Seven, as Kalvant has begun calling them (apparently mostly to annoy Mirandi), are sent to a small personal airship, and ride in the cabin out to one of the old 2nd generation exploration vessels, The Regent's Pride. Around The Pride are dozens of ships, all holding position a few thousand feet apart.
On The Pride, they find a Reville hub, with ships captains trading information, cargo banned from Atalantia, playing cards, and drinking. Wagers on who's parrot can repeat the most complex phrase, or who's crewman can fly the fastest through The Pride's complex sail rigging without getting tangled up.
They don't stay for long, within a few hours their ships arrive. The Ashen Edge is a 3rd Generation general purpose workhorse type ship, designed for mixed commercial and combat, as well as exploration. The Ashen Blade, on the other hand, is a fast heavily armed but lightly armored Stingship class vessel. It has 2 heavy main cannons that run 1/3rd of the length of the Stingship, and it has a half-dozen smaller anti-dragon weapons designed to seriously damage smaller dragons or other Stingships.
As they step on board The Edge's deck, they see crewmembers crawling all over, although the ship seems light handed.
"Alright you maggots! Stow your shtock below deck and get your arses back up here! WHAT THE SHTOCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR! MOVE YOUR ARSES!" A tall dark strix woman bellows at them from the control deck, one hand on the deck railing, the other holding a scroll. "MOVE IT MOVE MOVE IT! THIS AIN'T NO PLEASURE CRUIS!" Then she turns back to a talking with a blonde half-elf who's sporting a pair of synthetic wings on her back. The two animatedly seem to be arguing about something.
A nearby crewman, a halvavian that looks like he's barely old enough to shave buzzes over on dragonfly wings. "Better follow me, First Mate's in one of her moods today." He starts moving towards a hatchway that leads deeper into the ship. "Here we go." He leads them to a forward section of the ship where there are dozens of hammocks. "Only got about half the crew on so far, so you've got a good selection.
"Strix... Had to be strix," Sam mutters to himself and heading below decks. He stows his few meager possessions under a corner hammock with a good view of the exits.
Connor struggled mightily under the weight of his overloaded, and filled to bursting, backpack. Additional burlap sacks also stuffed like potatoes swayed from the straps, hitting his wings and lower back. One.Step.At.A.Time. he thought. The yelling from the Strix female wasn't helping.
Around his neck a reddish garnet was making its' own comments. WhendoIexplore?WhendoIexplore? it asked. Later. Connor sent back. He followed the halvavian down to the forward section until he could stop. Oh. It wasn't 'bring your own hammock'. Connor realized. He unstrapped his backpack, letting it fall from his shoulders with a barely-restrained crash, and sighed in relief. That had been really heavy. And hopefully the contents were worth every copper spent. Connor had no idea when their first liberty would be.
The free Inertial Armor, Force Screen, and Call Item tattoos will come later. :) Everybody give a big round of applause for Reaghar's contribution to the plan to survive another battle! We couldn't do it without him!
Spying the lockers, Sam quickly and nimble scales ups the side of the wall to stash his supplies in one of the harder to reach ones. The finishing touch is a sturdy looking lock.
"Oi! Pigeon boy!" He calls down to Connor from his perch. "You're gonna want to lock that gear up. If these guys are anything like the lot I first sailed with, they won't be averse to rooting through your personal effects."
"I'm from a military family - I've heard the stories." Connor grumbled as he started to put stuff in his own chosen locker, one near the porthole. "But 'barracks rats' tend to have their wings clipped and tossed over the side, once they're found out." Plus, he had his own watchdog. Oh no you don't! the psicrystal told him. I wanna explore. it insisted.
Connor pondered. An astral construct hidden inside the locker wouldn't last the entire work day. He had felt the growing energy inside him, what his instructors in the mind-arts said would happen as he practiced. Connor could do more powers now, not just the little trinkets made from ectoplasm. He could make bigger things. Connor still put a lock on the wall locker.
Alys glances at the loud mouthed Strix woman while following the halvavian yungster below decks: "I've gotten used to working with people with 'moods' in the past month. I'm sure she won't be much of a new chalenge from attitude club."
Once below decks Alys takes off her pack and srows it in one of the lockers. The experience with Kol's hideout has taught her to be more practically oriented she had decided to leave her expensive dresses aside. Her new attire, while no less expensive is certainly more useful in combat. An intricately crafted set of autumn-leaf red and yelow armor consisting of plates made out of what looks like large plant leaves is strapped over a simple golden brown outfit with several pockets. Both items made from expensive imported materials. Transmuted leaves and griffon mane.
After she sets down her equipment and shuts the locker Alys goes back to the training she had been spending most of the past days. Her hand grasps empty air as she had previously done when summoning her mind blade, but this time her motion mimicked a hand holding a revolver. Momentarily small ghostly rods and mechanical parts appear around her hand and start assembling into a firing mechanism. Alys had gotten the inspiration for this from the gunsmithing set she had found in Kol's room. Within seconds larger pieces and what looks like psychic bullets join the psychic construction to form the shape of an oversized revolver with a long rectangular barrel.
With a satisfied smirk Alys lays the heavy barrel over her forearm and points the translucent purple weapon at an empty section of wall: "Pow."
The immaterial weapon disassembles and the pieces disappear. Apparently the training has payed off after all. She would just need a target on which to try her new toy's actual firepower.
Reaghar steps onto the ship, taking note of the lot of sailors. He'd dealt with them before - in port. Now he was on their turf. Should be interesting.
Reaghar put his effects in a locker and locked it.
The halvavian holds out a hand to each of the new crewmembers. "I'm Tillek. No clan, sorry. I'm hoping to earn one on this cruise." He says, looking nervous about how he'll be received. "I'm the Chief Middy this cruise." He grins nervously. "Well, so far, unless one of you is also a Middy."
A 'middy' is a midshipmen. It's the equivalent of an apprentice. Usually a Middy is someone who is very young and apprenticing on the ship. After one cruise as a Middy, a crewman usually graduates to Seaman. The Chief Middy is usually the oldest, or most mature, of the Middy's, and is responsible for keeping the rest of the Middy's in line. There is only a Chief Middy if there are more than one Middy.
"Sorry to disappoint, but you could say we're all.", Alys shakes Tillek's hand and gives him a warm smile, knowing that probably no one else is going to. "I'm Alys. No clan either. Frankly, I find them overrated, but good luck with that anyway."
"Yah, we're in with you as well, I'm afraid." Connor said, taking the handshake in a friendly way. "I'm starting to learn that most Clan leaders are too rigid in their thinking for their clansmen. I'm Connor, recently with Reville." He looked at the others still coming down the stairs to the forward sleep room. "If you're new too," Connor drawled, "then you've no idea if the cook is overrated, or if the First Mate has a strict 'no mind-powers' rule? I'd like to practice. But I suspect we will all be too busy to think about off-time for a while."
"Name's Sam. I did some sailing a while back but I'm rusty and my crew weren't big on ranks," Sam said, "Don't worry kid, I ain't interested in giving orders."
Flick flies onto the ship, new longbow strapped his back. It's far more finely made than his last one, with elven scroll work decorating it.
He floats downstairs, and hovers in place as the Halvaian introduces himself. "Hi I'm Elrohir, but most people call Flick. Please to meetcha"
Tillek grins at Flick. "Nice to meet you Flick. Anyway, we better get back up on deck, if you don't want Ms. Kiana to rip your wings off." He then hightails it out of the communal room.
Once back up on deck, the newcomers are lined up in more or less a line. Strict military protocol isn't necessary (although Kiana seems to frown less at those who actually assume military stance).
"Alright Maggots, Names, and experience!" She demands of the line. The half-elf has followed her down, but she's just grinning in the background, staying out of the way.
Once the group has given name and information, Kiana begins drilling them on information about the ship, and duties on board, and other things.
Profession (Sailor) +4 : Take 10 = 14 (Midshipman)
NO OTHER OUTSTANDING SKILLS : (Assigned Deck Crew)
Profession (Sailor) +5 : Take 10 = 15 (Ordinary Seaman)
Stealth +10 : Take 10 = 20 (Assigned Scouting Detail)
Profession (Sailor) +5 : Take 10 = 15 (Ordinary Seaman)
Craft (Sculpting) +10 : Take 10 = 20 (Assigned Repair Detail)
Profession (Sailor) -- : Take 10 = -- (Midshipman)
Perception +11 : Take 10 = 21 (Assigned Overwatch Detail)
Profession (Sailor) +8 : Take 10 = 18 (Ordinary Seaman)
NO OTHER OUTSTANDING SKILLS : (Assigned Deck Crew)
Kiana takes out a flat board, and makes some notes on a piece of paper with a pen. "Alright, better than I expected. I have expected you lot to be nothing but Middy's." She comments, her attitude having improved. "Alright, Alister, you need to work on your knowledge. Close, but no prize, Middy. If it's any consolation, you'll qualify for Ordinary Seaman by the end of this cruise, I'm sure." She says, not unkindly, and continues. "Alys, decent. Ordinary Seaman, Deck Crew. Also, from what I could see of your example of your ability to move from cover to cover, you're pretty good at being sneaky. You're assigned to the Scouting Team." The Strix grins, showing sharp teeth. "I'm in charge of that team, I'm gonna work your skinny arse off." She checks off a few more bits on her paper.
"Connor... You pass, barely. Someone from your clan I'd have expected to answer those perfectly, in your sleep, while drunk." She shakes her head in disappointment. "Ordinary Seaman, I suppose. And really, sculpture? Seriously? Well, the samples were pretty alright. Ok, you're on the Repair Team. Maybe you can spruce up Ashey when you're not earning your keep." She makes a few more marks. "Elrohir! Not a single question right! Are you serious? You couldn't even tell the bow from the aft?" She looks disgusted. "Midshipman! Junior Midshipman!"
"I'll take him, I need a Middy too." Sivalla pipes up, her voice high and light like a flute. "He looks like he's quick, and he has a good eye, I can put him on my Overwatch Detail."
Kiana blinks, looks at Sivalla, and nods. "Sure, one less middy is a good thing." She makes a few marks. "Sammark, good solid Ordinary Seaman. No other skills however, so just Deck Crew."
"I'll take him too, if you don't oppose? My ship is a 4th generation, and there's less climbing in rigging in case he falls over, and I'm under strength." Savilla pipes up again.
Kiana raises an eyebrow, but nods. "Sure, he's all yours."
Sam frowned but said nothing while the various officers divided up him and his friends like shanks of meat. The presence of the Strix obviously had him on edge and he tensed whenever she passed too close. It was almost a relief to hear Sivalla lay claim to him, expect for the fact that they all kept treating him as a cripple since he was sans wings. He had half a mind to snap off a biting comment but restrained himself admirably, some last vestiges of a survival instinct taking over and forcing him to remain silent.
Flick grins a bit sheepishly "Sorry, ships are a bit too confining for me. Uh. What's Overwatch Detail mean?"
The half elf grins. "What it means, kid, is you're going to be Deck Crew on The Blade. It also means whenever we're going at less than cruising speed and you're on shift, you'll be flying about 500 ft above the ship on Overwatch Flight, looking for things sneaking up on us from below or behind and watching for things up ahead of us. It requires sharp eyesight, good flight capability, and speed. It's usually a halvavian posting, but you seem to be quick and responsive enough to pull it off." Then she walks up to Elorhir, and flicks him on the nose hard enough to sting. "And it's 'What's Overwatch Detail mean, Captain? Or Ma'am, or even Sir. Got it?"
"Connor... You pass, barely. Someone from your clan I'd have expected to answer those perfectly, in your sleep, while drunk." She shakes her head in disappointment. "Ordinary Seaman, I suppose. And really, sculpture? Seriously? Well, the samples were pretty alright. Ok, you're on the Repair Team. Maybe you can spruce up Ashey when you're not earning your keep."
Connor squelched the disparaging remark in his head. Beats "expert on earthenware casting for specific flora schemes and design". He thought, remembering his trade school job. Repair work wouldn't be hard. Connor didn't have a psionic repair, however. It would have to be done the hard way. It sounded like Elrohir was going to get a workout. But Sammark would be on another skyship. They were split up again. Not good.
Kiana continues down the row. "Reaghar! Pretty much like Alister, close, but not quite good enough. Midshipman, but you'll make rating by the end of the cruise."
"Fine with me."
Alys remains silent. It doesn't matter what she'd be assigned to, she wpuld do equally badly with authority anywhere. Such a fun ride it would be. She wonders who would break first, her or the first mate.
Selvan is, surprisingly, at peace amongst the shouting, insults, and snap to attention discipline of the crew. Guarding and escorting ships like this one are very much what he was expected to do as a graduate of the Swarmlord academy. However outside of a basic course in ship identification and construction he was very much ignorant of the inner workings of how the ship operates.
He had no doubts about his position here as he carefully stowed and locked his gear subconsciously in the way he would at the academy. The chaos, the explosions, the headaches in dealing with civilian and commoner life seemed so distant now. For the first time in a very long time there would be order and discipline in his life.
He keeps quiet and distant through much of the initial tour and introduction observing and calculating carefully. Sooner or later he'd have to strain his mind and try to fit all the errant thoughts in their particular group into his collective. One would inevitably be left out.
When they line up he stands at half attention a niggling part of his head telling him that that bastard Kalvant ensured he'd be scraping bird shit from the sails with his face.
Profession (Sailor) +4 : Take 10 = 14 (Midshipmen)
Knowledge (Engineering) +10 : Take 10 = 20 (Promotion : Engineering Cadet)
Kiana finally stands in front of Selvan, looking him up and down. "Selvan! You and Alister and Reaghar must have gone to the same school, you all missed the same things." She looks at her notes. "Unlike them, however, you have a good working knowledge of engineering. Engineering Cadet, Engineering Deck!"
Sivalla smiles. "Oh! I need another Engineering Cadet, I'll take him too, 'kay Kiana?"
The strix gives her another look, but then nods. "Sure, take him." She doesn't seem all that upset to be losing him, perhaps she's heard rumors of his interpersonal issues.
Just as Kiana finishes handing out assignments to the new crew members, a veritable flock of mixed species comes flying out of the old 1st gen ship that acts as the floating dock, and comes winging in toward the ship. At it's head flies an elvavian with flame colored hair and black leather armor, with Reville colors. On her hip is a rapier.
She alights down on the command deck, then hops up to the railing, standing on the railing with her wings flared to keep her balance. All around the ship, the flock of people come in for landings, catching ahold of rigging, landing on spars, or landing on the railing or deck.
The woman grins fiercely, showing off bright white teeth. "Ahoy! Attention you slackers! Captain on the freakin' deck!
Sivalla calls out merrily. "But you're on the railing!"
The woman looks down, the holds her hand out toward Sivalla and a sawed off rifle appears in her hand. "Avast ye, ye scurvy dog! How dare you correct your captain!"
Sivalla bows. "But, you're not my captain!"
The woman looks thoughtful, and then the sawed off rifle disappears again. "Oh, well, carry on then Wench!" About half the ship bursts into laughter, followed a few seconds later by newcomers who join in a bit nervously.
"I am Captain Selena 'tel Surta 'tel Reville! I am your new Mistress, and the closest thing to a God you lot are likely to meet any time soon! And the first one of you jackholes that makes a joke about me being your lover will get your hide whipped off at the mast!" More laughter from the old hands, while the new hands seem more nervous about joining in.
The woman's wings flip, and she falls into a sitting position on the rail, her hand catching the railing to stop her fall. Her crimson wings fold in behind her. "Alright you scum, listen up. Our illustrious council can't find it's arse with a map and a compass and three interns to help them, much less a functional policy! So we're gonna go out and fix their screw ups. In other words, standard procedure." More laughter.
"They've given us the job of opening new trade with Vellandrus." That set's some people muttering. "Oh shut up you pantywaists. If I wanted to go make money with grandmothers I'd have asked mine! And she'd slit your gizzard and cook you for dinner for making so much noise!" The muttering drops to near nothing. "Now, our papers detail us Sivalla's Blade as a body guard." That perks up the crew, and also explains why there are so many crewmen. "We're gonna see what we can find in the way of place to trade with, and also find out any thing we can about the dragons while we're at it. Now then, any questions that don't include how to wipe your own arse or other equally stupid things?"
A dark skinned Humavian with blood and black colored feathered wings clears his throat. "I ma'am, we've got a lot of new crew, we going to do a shakedown cruise? Or we going fat to the fryer?"
"Good question Jimmy. Our shakedown cruise is going to be to put in at Taksi with a load of dried whale meat we got in. Those cats love whale meat. After that, we'll figure out which direction to go."
A blonde-haired female humavian in a tight fitting and revealing outfit pops up. "I got a question Captain!"
The red-head captain cuts her off. "I said no Brass! You're not my type!" The old hands laugh, and Brass joins in. "Ok, any other questions? And before you ask Brass, no you're not Sivalla's type either." Another round of laughter.
Vellandrus is a vast continent that the island doesn't actually end up near most of the year. The biggest thing about it is it's a major source of Draconic Power.
Connor wisely kept his mouth shut and his feet together, his hands at his sides, as the female Strix - Kiana? split off Elrohir and Sammark for the Ashen Blade. Selvan was also taken aside. As the redheaded Captain of the Ashen Edge arrived, Connor tried to place her in what little learning he had of Clan Reville.
As the older...pirates, even though this was a Clan ship, assembled, Connor looked around. A lot of dark-colored wings. The other woman was the Ashen Edge's Captain? Vellandrus was their destination? Something about dragons. Too many new faces, and too much fast talking. Connor was losing three out of the new team. Hero, he told the garnet at the end of his necklace, I need two or three more of you in the next two minutes. The only response was a grumbling mutter in his mind.
The lectures from the last week weren't enough to figure out who was who onboard this ship. Of course, no one was wearing a uniform, unlike a McIntyre ship. You couldn't tell the officers from the deckhands, not without staring. And Connor didn't dare stare, not with the look in some of the women's eyes.
Connor hoped the weather stayed calm so he could at least tell what direction the skyship would take as it descended to the Surface lands.
Surta is the most powerful affiliate clan of Reville. Surt and Reville are practically co-clans at this point. You don't know of this person specifically, but, given her name, the fact she's working directly for the council 'off the books', and the amount of money being spent on this... Connor is fairly certain that his new Captain comes from both money and power. Probably the middle child of a major clan figure.