ghost post
While Sal enjoys herself and sips from her mug of ale with gusto, she sticks to sipping and drinking slowly, listening for news and gossip about her new crew in general, and keeping an eye out for Harrigan--who is a Free Captain, or so she assumes--and anyone known to be his cronies in particular.
Thren waves to Pierce at her first opportunity, remembering him well from their previous adventure. She gets herself a drink-juice or tea or water, nothing alcoholic-and mingles a bit. The tiefling doesn't try to gather attention, taking what she gets naturally. When she can, she greets Captain Endymion warmly.
"I hope to come back to Hell's Harbor and perform again, Lord Endymion," the bard greets him in as friendly a manner as she can. She's sincere in this, as her time there was a lot of fun for her.
Endymion stands to greet Thren. He takes her hand if she will allow it, but in any case leans in close. His voice is gravelly and worn, sounds like he has been yelling for days. "Congratulations on your victory, Captain Nocturne. You are welcome in Hell Harbor. We are peers now in the eyes of these pirates, but you and I know that we share a more intimate relationship, no?" However Thren reacts, he continues with, "We both have good reason to hate the Chels." And he laughs, more of a rasp, really.
"Take care while you are in town. Bedu Hanji is in town. He will likely show up here later. Believe me when I say to you: in a nation of bad folk, Hanji is, perhaps, the worst. A slaver, a cannibal. Truly a monster. He intends to host a singing competition. He will invite you, and of course you will make your own decision about what to do. But especially if you choose to decline his invitation, take care to watch out for yourself. As I said, Hanji is a slaver. He would think nothing of...compelling your participation."
Harrigan is, indeed, a Free Captain. But it appears he has chosen not to attend any of the celebrations or even sail to Port Peril. Word is he was so angry about losing the Regatta that he retreated to his holdings.
Thren blushes as Endymion takes her hand. "Captain, please, what will the other captains think?" The bard's eyes glance at Tessa Fairwind, then to wherever Sandara may be. "I am but a simple singer...who has won her seat at the Pirate Council."
She sits down with the Lord of Hell Harbor. "I don't know this 'Bedu Henji'. What's he look like? What's he sail? Is he from Mediogalti? Okeno? Elsewhere in the Shackles? And would he strike at a Free Captain? Especially since right now my name is on the lips of so many?"
He laughs loudly and convincingly, "Let them think this is me being overly forward. Hanji is a demon. He has the red and blue face of a mandrill. Hard to miss. To your stern (don't look) is a red clad halfling with a monocle where is left eye should be. That is Jolis Raffles. He is the Lord of Bag Island, and Hanji would kill him here in front of the Hurricane King if he had the chance, so doing whatever he needed to encourage you to join him would be nothing. Hanji rules the Rampore Isles. Raffles is staunchly anti slavery, and Hanji is a slaver, and their islands are quite close to each other."
"I'd heard of Raffles from several halflings I've shared a ship with. Hanji sounds like a demon. But who am I to fear demons?" Her tail plucks a knife out and she takes it in hand to stab a slice of fruit and nibble. "I might be part demon myself. I appreciate the warning though. Maybe I should also talk to Raffles. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or at least not always my enemy."
She laughs again.
Sal notices a blonde woman, Pirate Lord Cerise Bloodmourne, rise from the table where Thren is talking to Endymion. She grabs up a bottle and moves in a sort of elliptical tacking maneuver toward Sal, subtly, indirect. She weaves as though slightly drunk, and bumps into a low wall of fitted stones near Sal and plops onto it. She looks out to the harbor, but speaks so Sal can hear.
"You are one of the new recruits on the Fearsome Tide, yes? Would you be willing to talk about your experience? How did Nocturne handle the race?"
Sal notices a blonde woman, Pirate Lord Cerise Bloodmourne, rise from the table where Thren is talking to Endymion. She grabs up a bottle and moves in a sort of elliptical tacking maneuver toward Sal, subtly, indirect. She weaves as though slightly drunk, and bumps into a low wall of fitted stones near Sal and plops onto it. She looks out to the harbor, but speaks so Sal can hear.
"You are one of the new recruits on the Fearsome Tide, yes? Would you be willing to talk about your experience? How did Nocturne handle the race?"
"With balls of adamantine, so ta speak, and a heart o' gold. Focused on speed and the crew's skill." Sal squints at the woman. "Lady Bloodmourne, right? Why you ask?"
"With balls of adamantine, so ta speak, and a heart o' gold. Focused on speed and the crew's skill." Sal squints at the woman. "Lady Bloodmourne, right? Why you ask?""No need to be concerned. Nocturne and her friends are also friends with Fairwind, and I am Fairwind's friend, so I am working to find out if a friend of a friend is a friend, so to speak."
It is possible that Bloodmourne has had more than a daily portion of grog, or, based on the smell of the wine in her cup, something more expensive.
"I'd heard of Raffles from several halflings I've shared a ship with. Hanji sounds like a demon. But who am I to fear demons?" Her tail plucks a knife out and she takes it in hand to stab a slice of fruit and nibble. "I might be part demon myself. I appreciate the warning though. Maybe I should also talk to Raffles. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or at least not always my enemy."
She laughs again.
"Raffles is no saint, himself, of course. Once a slave on a Chelish galleon. For most of his career he focused only on raiding the Chelish vessels. But since things have heated up with Hanji, there are rumors he also pirates Hanji's vessels. Rumors only, of course. The Hurricane King doesn't get involved, but open conflict would likely force his hand."
At talk of demons, something dark passes over his face, "I only insert myself into the situation because you have a lovely voice, and Hanji has a thing for lovely voices. I'd hat to see you locked in a cage."
"I appreciate the friendly concern, Lord Endymion. Contrary to what my first mate says I do listen to advice and try to avoid trouble. Sometimes at any rate."
In seeming defiance of her own words, Thren then approaches Tessa Fairwind. "Pardon me for interrupting, but I am in the mood for more than just a bit of food and drink. Could I presume upon you for a dance Captain Fairwind?" The bard asks courteously. There's a smile in her eyes that she's having problems keeping off her face as she asks.
"T'be frank, Lady, I don't truck with Shackles politics when I can avoid it, but my sense of Nocturne is she plays fair with those who play fair with her. She focuses on keeping the ship fast and the hold full, and her crew like her. I'm too new to know of her dealings with Fairwind, but..." She nods over toward where the tiefling is approaching the red-haired sea maven, "I reckon if they've got along in the past there's good reason. I doubt she aims to supplant any favor you have with the lady, if that's yer concern, and if you think there's something we can do ta help ya out, just ask."
She waves over to Lee. "That's our seacaster. He's known Thren much longer'n I have, though he was ashore when the Tide encountered Fairwind, I think."
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"T'be frank, Lady, I don't truck with Shackles politics when I can avoid it, but my sense of Nocturne is she plays fair with those who play fair with her. She focuses on keeping the ship fast and the hold full, and her crew like her. I'm too new to know of her dealings with Fairwind, but..." She nods over toward where the tiefling is approaching the red-haired sea maven, "I reckon if they've got along in the past there's good reason. I doubt she aims to supplant any favor you have with the lady, if that's yer concern, and if you think there's something we can do ta help ya out, just ask."
She waves over to Lee. "That's our seacaster. He's known Thren much longer'n I have, though he was ashore when the Tide encountered Fairwind, I think."
"Your recent acquaintance provides a unique and useful perspective, thanks, thank you. Nocturne's star is clearly on the rise, but I seek to ensure it is a star, and not some baleful comet. Keep your weather eyes open. I fear storms are coming, and it is important to know who is what."
"I appreciate the friendly concern, Lord Endymion. Contrary to what my first mate says I do listen to advice and try to avoid trouble. Sometimes at any rate."
In seeming defiance of her own words, Thren then approaches Tessa Fairwind. "Pardon me for interrupting, but I am in the mood for more than just a bit of food and drink. Could I presume upon you for a dance Captain Fairwind?" The bard asks courteously. There's a smile in her eyes that she's having problems keeping off her face as she asks.
Fairwind slams a tankard onto the table cheerfully as she rises and whirls into Thren's orbit. "Of course, Captain Nocturne. It is your evening, after all."
The bard leads Captain Fairwind to where others are dancing and then makes a show of politely bowing to the other captain before joining her in a lively dance.
"The night isn't mine, Tessa. My win is my ship's win, my crew' victory. I was just the one at the wheel to help guide things along. I'm sure you understand that." Thren murmurs during their fun.
"That may be true, darling, but that story doesn't serve. Your crew will be better off if you accept and enhance your legend. It may be your crew's victory, but it gave you an island and chance at a seat on the Council. Your whole crew, whether mangy or exceptional, won't be sitting at that table. Of course your people are important, but eyes will be on you, not them."
"Oh, I'm aware the eyes will be on me. I just know that no captain, no matter how great, sails alone. I try to remember that. Even if it is my seat at the table. Besides, a crew without a captain? I think we call them things like 'mobs', 'rabble', and 'easy pickings'." The tiefling keeps the dance close, unusually relaxed for a change around the other woman.
"Of course it helps when I pick good crew." The bard adds with a wink.
Thren does try to make note of what's going on around her in spite of enjoying herself.
But being too full of fun and life, she really doesn't notice much besides the gorgeous redhead she's dancing with.
It would appear that politicking is mostly put on hold for the evening, at least among this lot.
Sal replies to Bloodmourne. "Eh? Oh. You ain't talkin' 'bout actual weather, are ya?" She ponders. "My best friend's pappy was killed in the big battle in Port Peril. Nocturne, Greenwood, and O'Neld--that's Lee--served under his command. That's how, ultimately, I came to know'em. My friend, she reckons the forces that made that fight happen are still workin' the Shackles. But I reckon based on Nocturne's experiences, she ain't gonna be friendly to those chummin' the waters."
She waves to Lee again, trying to get his attention.
To Sal: "The Shackles are a beautiful thing, and a fragile one. All the Pirate Lords, wrapped up in their own wants and needs, disorganized. It could all end quickly if the right forces move against it. Have to be ready to join our strengths if we need to. But enough business...tonight is a celbration. Let's celebrate."
Anyone observing the Hurricane King notices that he seems to be deep in his cups, a girl on each knee and a third keeping his mug full of wine. As the night moves to a crescendo of energetic celebration, he stands, slightly wobbling on his feet, and pulls something from his belt. He points the pistol skyward and fires, the sound reverberates around the harbor, bringing the music and revelry to a halt. The King is a strong looking man with a thicket of a black beard. A tricorne hat on his head and a brace of firearms at his waist.
"Captain Nocturne, congratulations. Your victory is echoing around Port Peril like the report of one of my cannons. Your voice is like that of one of the more attractive demons. You have earned a chance at filling a seat at my table, in my council, among the Pirate Lords of the Shackles!"
So I offer you a great prize. It’s called the Island of Empty Eyes, for the queer statues that leer over its shores.
It is uninhabited and fraught with danger, make no doubt, but naught that pirates of your capabilities can’t handle. You’ve landed a seat on the Pirate Council, but winning a race don’t make a sailor a captain, nor a freebooter a lord. You’ll need to show the Council you can tame the island and make it your own, if you want to claim your seat. The lords of the Council will come calling in three months to see if you’re worth the honor that’s been bestowed upon you, and they’ll expect to be feted as befits pirate lords of their stature. Provided you look like you know what you’re doing, they’ll take your oath of loyalty and grant you your seat on the Council. If not... well, you wouldn’t be the first winner of the Regatta who failed to live up to expectations.”
Thren disengages from a close dance with Captain Fairwind to give her attention to the Hurricane King. She listens intently to what he gives her, taking the information in.
"I'll take that island. No matter what." Thren promises confidently. "I haven't come this far to fail now. Expect to receive invitations to my new abode in the coming season, my king." The tiefling bows respectfully to the man with the pistol. "I'll be sitting in that seat soon enough."
Fairwind stays close enough to indicate a certain level of conviviality to those assembled.
The Hurricane King nods and laughs, "I expect you will, Captain Nocturne. Feel free to invite those you would want to have around you. The Lords will send a delegation of our own. For now, enjoy the hospitality."
Our bold tiefling bows again. "Gladly." She then returns to the festivities with a big smile on her face, but the gears in her head are starting to turn.
Sal enjoys sipping her beverage and calls for wine for Bloodmourne, and eats her fill.
She quiets as she hears of the quest laid upon Nocturne. "Ain't never enough," she mutters to no one in particular. "Ya win a race, they give ya one more hurdle ta jump before handin' over the medal. Games always rigged, ain't it? An' the house always wins."
Has she heard of the Island of Empty Eyes?
Bloodmourne sips a wine as dark as her name and replies, "Sometimes winning a position is easier than keeping it. Lordship is a marathon, not a sprint."
During her dancing, Thren tries to pick Fairwind's mind.
"Do you know anything about this island? Did Bonefist pick it for some reason as our new base of operations, or was it just random?" The tiefling asks as she wracks her own brain.
"Colonists landed there once and built a fort, but they all disappeared. Sailors say you can hear their ghosts moving around the island. The island is named for the ruins, ancient cyclopean ruins left behind by the Ghol-Gan. I heard a song once that said the ruins were overrun with dinosaurs. I suspect Bonefist had two motivations. One being another foothold to the north, by which I mean he wants you to be successful and serve as a shield between him and the Chels."
"Well, if that means we become the first line of defense against my ex-countrymen...that's just a shame." Thren smirks. "My crew and I do have some experience with Ghol Ghan ruins."
Fairwind: "Once, while exploring an island that was largely unsettled, I found a helmet as big as a boat, thick as me. Our ship's mage said it was a powerful magic. We brought a bunch of the crew to unearth it (it was partly buried in some scree) and haul it back to the ship. Once we dug it up, we found it was sitting beside a giant big enough to match it. You won't believe me, but as Besmara swears he could have worn my ship as a shoe. So he pulls himself out of where he is buried in this rockfall, big as the sky, and starts flailing about, hurling rocks and screaming. Well, Cerise, Bloodmourne, that is, she was my first mate at the time, she gets this wild thought that maybe this magic helm is magic like, and so it might resize if she puts it on. So she climbs into it and does a sort of headstand, and damned if it doesn't shrink to fit her head. We all high tail it back to the shore and onto our ship. This giant, he chases us into the water for stealing his hat, and breaks one of my masts before we can get underway. Anyway, I don't know much about Cyclops but I bet that was a Titan."
"I hope not to run into such a thing. The one-eyed monsters I've run into already were bad enough." Thren seems troubled. But when she looks to her dance partner again and her ready smile returns. "Then again, that led me to you."
Sal asks Bloodmourne, "I guess you would know. Is it worth it?"
When she is chatting with the crew later, Sal will mention that Emberar had mentioned the Island was on his list to see because of its famous statues, but Luna wouldn't take him because Chelish ships had been spotted near there.
As your words hang in the air, waiting for responses, a scream cuts off your conversations. A loud crash as a table is overturned followed by the rattle of pewter ware flies across the paving stones draws your attention.
Pirate Lord Avimar Sorrinash holds the arm of a young server in a steel grip. He growls, "You think this is good enough for my table!? I'll have your liver!". At that, he hurls a mug at the boy. Those of his crew move toward him, cutting off escape, not that he would have a chance at that...
Thren looks over at the commotion. She tries to make eye contact with Sal and Lee and points with her chin at the commotion. She sighs and smiles to her dance partner. "I know this is a bad idea, because I'd rather be here, but I'm going to try to deal with that. I'll understand if you stay out of it and continue to enjoy yourself." Thren tells Tessa. With that, she disengages from Captain Fairwind and heads over to where Captain Sorrinash holds the serving boy.
"Captain Sorrinash," the tiefling begins. She makes no overtly hostile moves, with the fierce captain's crew around him. "The boy didn't choose the menu. The food comes from the kitchens and we're in Bonefist's town. Why take out your frustrations on the lad? He's no challenge. No thrill, no glory. To you, he's nothing more than a light snack, if that. Why bother with him? Besides, it might be considered a challenge to the Hurricane King, as these are his people. If you're prepared to challenge for the crown, that's up to you, but I doubt one serving boy is much of a warmup for that."
The tiefling tries her best to be reasonable and calm, knowing she's facing a rather ticked-off captain with a ruthless reputation.
Sal slowly moves toward Thren's flank.
Lee steps up and says something about the night being one for celebration, placing a still corked bottle of a rich wine from a vineyard in far away Nidal. I'm sure this is what the boy meant to deliver, but in his youth he erred. Surely you have struck such fear into him that he will not make such a mistake again.
Sorinash tosses the boy bodily onto the cobbles at Thren's feet, catching up the bottle with the same fluid motion. He bites the cork from the bottle and takes a long pull.
"Well enough little one," (it isn't clear if he is referring to the boy or Lee)"Captain Threnody, watch yourself. A Lord must know which battles to fight..."
His eyes scan the scene, and when they meet Sal's she has the sensation of looking into the cold eyes of a predator.
"I'm no Lord. Yet. And that's the problem, this wasn't a battle. You have a reputation for ruthlessness and savagery. You didn't earn that by picking on serving boys, but out on the high seas, taking plunder from fat merchant ships and Chelish boats. You earned your reputation in battle. This...wasn't meant to be a battle. Enjoy your drink, Captain Sorrinash." Thren bows in respect to the other captain and disengages.
"Thanks for watching my back Sal. I'd rather we not get into a nasty bloodbath when we're supposed to be celebrating. And Lee, good save there. Seems your time on land hasn't dulled your wits." The tiefling looks around the party. "Let's get back to mingling and having fun. There are some Free Captains here we haven't met, we should meet and work the crowd a bit."
The bard mentally steels herself to avoid the temptation of going right back to Tessa and finds Captain Pegsworthy. "Captain." She says respectfully. "Good to see some Free Captains here, not just pirate lords."
Pegsworthy smiles broadly and warmly at your approach. His wide shoulders tell you he is no stranger to work. His blue-grey coat, slightly tattered, is that of an Andoran Eagle Knight, and the gold epaulets those of a captain in the Andoran Navy. Rumor has it that both are relics from his life before turning pirate rather than the spoils of piracy.
His name seems an unfortunate joke considering that his left leg ends in a darkwood peg.
"I am happy to celebrate your victory, Captain Nocturne, and even moreso because you appear to have spat in the eye of Barnabas Harrigan, who has been no friend to me. I am not so pretty nor such a good dancer as Lord Fairwind, but would you pencil me into your dance card?"
He holds his hand out in invitation.
Sal nods to Thren. She decides to wander outside to get a breath of fresh air.