"Edgar!" Phaedra moves forward as far as she can, hoping to be able to make it aboard the ship to deal with Edgar's wounds before he bleeds out.
"Hah...Hah... Your all... That stands... In Emilia's way..." Edgar forces the words out of his mouth, along with blood and other fluids. He puts all his mind and energy to ignore the pain and throws his dagger at Derevesh. The dagger flies from Edgar's hand and lands clear in the middle of Derevish's Torso. The pirate captain staggers back, hand moving up to remove the blade, but hesitates, trying to decide if that would do more harm then good. "Take That-*Cough Cough*" Edgar is cut off as he coughs up more blood from his wound. He pulls his short spear and starts to move towards the captain, an unintentional stagger in his step.
Tellar hobbles forward hoping his leg will not keep him from aiding the rest of his companions.
Derevish grins cockily at Edgar - though the action's undercut but the wavering in his stance - "Oh I can do a lot more than stand, lad."
He pivots around, his left arm and pistol towards Emilia. Another crack of thunder and everyone watches in horror as she stumbles back, doubling over in pain.
"No!" Edgar shouts, a surge of adrenaline driving him forward, rage burning in his eyes.
"Oh do shut up." Derevish mocks, shooting Edgar point blank in the stomach with his second pistol.
Edgar stumbles backwards from the searing pain. His muscles fail him as he drops his spear and slumps down to his knees, before the deck rushes up to smash his face and he lies there, his body twitching in a pool of his blood as he labors to draw breath.
"Idiot." Derevish mocks, reaching to reload his weapons as Sin charges towards the grangplank... And an arrow slits his throat. Just along the side, cut skin and vein. Derevish's eyes go wide in shock and he turns around to see Emilia, panting hard, having just released her shot.
"Blimey" the pirate mutters before slumping over alongside Edgar.
Emilia's bow clatters to the ground as she sprints for the ship, ignoring her own pain to get to Edgar. She falls to her knees beside him, rolling his over to cradle his head in her lap, her hands trying to staunch the blood from his wound.
"Don't you dare die... don't you dare! TELLAR!"
Phaedra runs up to Emilia and Edgar. Kneeling beside Emilia, she'll place her hands on him and use her healing hex.
"I'm sorry, but I can only do it once a day on a person. Jopefully Tellar can help too. Here Miss Emilia, let me look at your wound too."
After she sees to her new friends, she looks over at the pirate captain. "Is..is he dead?"
As Phaedra heals him, Edgar starts to breathe normally again. Still groggy from the experience, he open's his eyes and sees Phaedra healing Emilia. "Uhh... Are, are you okay Emilia..?" He gasps out. A look of concern crosses his face as he is comes out of it.
As Phaedra heals him, Edgar starts to breathe normally again. Still groggy from the experience, he open's his eyes and sees Phaedra healing Emilia. "Uhh... Are, are you okay Emilia..?" He gasps out. A look of concern crosses his face as he comes out of it.
Eaton flinches at the thunderous crack of the pistols being fired. -Magnificent- weapons. Just imagine what a magus could do given... no... task at hand. Engineering can wait for another time. Starse is out of the way for Phaedra to charge up the gangplank after him, and slips aside to let her have all the room she needs with the injured Miss Emelia and Mister Arrowni.
He turns his attention to the pirate.
After she sees to her new friends, she looks over at the pirate captain. "Is..is he dead?"
Eaton swings the magical blade for the first time, neatly severing head from shoulders with a sound like cutting wet wood. He pauses one long, dramatic moment before growling "He is now... Everyone otherwise alright? That touch of yours is *magic* Miss Phaedra." The long blade drops to the ground with a dull clatter, unadorned steel denting the deck as Eaton drops to one knee to look over the corpse, stripping off gear and valuables in preparation of hurling the brigand's remains overboard to feed the fishes. He quick-glances up at Sin during his gory task and asks simply "Check for Grindilow?" before returning his full attention to looting his former captor.
After asking about the pirate captain, Phaedra looks over at him trying to assess his injuries and wonders if she should tend to him as well. He doesn't look too bad off, I'm sure I could help him too. He doesn't look particularity villainous, in fact he's rather handsome. Maybe...maybe he could be convinced to help us?
Her thoughts are quite rudely interrupted by Eaton's sudden beheading of the captain. Phaedra's hands cover her mouth as she muffles a little squeal while she looks quite pale and ill at the sight of the severed head that begins to roll on the gently rocking deck of the ship. Her emerald eyes are wide in shock as she finally manages to look away from the head to stare at Eaton as he loots the now headless corpse.
Eaton's eyes are hard and his hands are quick, perfunctory, searching briskly and straightening his eyes in a tight line. He stares at the headless corpse for about fifteen uncomfortable seconds before speaking again. "Gozreh take him down into the cold and crushing dark. Calistria sup his spilling blood. A man may turn to piracy for any number of reasons. Maybe what was his was taken by another. Maybe he was pressed into service. A pirate can beg for mercy, he can be shown another way... perhaps. Maybe he can even buy his life with redemption and atonement. There's no such mercy for a Pirate Captain. A man of the sea should have honor. He should have integrity. I've known many in my short life. Frederick Valdemar was one of the best." The young nobleman turns away, taking an unsteady breath, finding the words hitching in his throat. He rubs the heel of one palm against his eye and takes a second, staggering unsteadily away from the beheaded and looted body.
Young Lord Starse, the Iron Lord, heads toward the captain's cabin, grumbling "There's revenge half begun. Let's see if this scum had anything to drink."
He's right, I shouldn't let myself forget all that they have done and killed. Still, I'm just not used to seeing someone cut down right in front of me. Phaedra rises to her feet and tries to compose herself. "Jocelynn, please circle the ship a bit and let me know if you see anything trying to climb aboard."
After giving instructions to her raven, Phaedra will hesitantly follow to the captain's cabin asking; "There'll be maps in there too, right? Something to show us the course out of this cove and back to civilization? Also, you might not want to wander off by yourself until we're sure nothing else is aboard M'lord. Just in case."
"Yes... all good thoughts, probably. I just... Really need a drink right now..." Eaton's mouth works a few times, open and shut, as he tries to find something witty to say to sum up the situation, but just fails. He ends up chewing his lips, thumbs pressing into his lightly closed fists to stop the trembling of his hands.
Poking around he upends and rummages looking for anything that might classify as an intoxicant. Very-off pickle-vinegar might qualify at this point. Cooking sherry? Rancid pirate grog? "I've... I'm sorry you had to see that, Miss Phaedra... It's. ..." The raggedy noble sighs and rakes his fingers through his scruffy beard.
AH! Tangent! The next best thing to intoxication! "You know, you completely misunderstood me before about the intermediary business. I'm one too. People like us are very rare... and often maligned. Of course, it's not terribly publicized what with my family and all, and most consider me just a wizard, but like you, I'm very much more. I'd love to hear more about where your talents come from. What your intermediary is. How you perceive it, and it's role in the world outside your life and through you... I'm still trying to figure out what mine is. You may have noticed my lack of... eh... 'familiar'." There! That'll stop anyone asking questions about his shaking hands and sweating face and how often he's ever killed another human being before...
Phaedra continues to speak to Eaton as she searches through the cabin, looking for anything useful to them. "Well, my mom is also a witch and so was her mom. I just figured it was a talent that always ran in our family. Sorry if I overreacted to you comments before, but I've gotten rather used to others less than favorable misconceptions of what I am and just assumed you were like the others. Did you inherit your talent from one of your parents as well?"
Edgar stares into Emilia's heavenly face for a long moment in bliss, his head resting in her lap.
...His head...Resting ... in HER Lap!
Edgar bolts up, His face scarlet. "I-I-I'm Alright! I-uh, so uhh... who took the pirate down? Wow, took his head clean off..."
Once he has calmed down a bit, Edgar turns to Emilia, eyes taking in the remainder of her wounds. "I'm sorry Emilia. That was pretty foolish of me... I should have found a way to prevent him from shooting at you. I was expecting him to focus on me... Are...Are you ok? Do you still have that healing potion?"
"Did you inherit your talent from one of your parents as well?"
Lord Starse shakes his head quickly "No, no, not at all. My father was an adventurer for a very long time, and my mother is a gentlewoman and heir to a rather sizeable fortune. I'm actually in line to inherit the throne, if several people die before me. My abilities are present but not pronounced. Not yet. They should develop along with my other magic, but father says that they are likely to never manifest fully as an intermediary because of my more structured studies. Still, they are certainly there. I already 'float' a bit. I imagine given time and a bit of practice, I'll be able to defy gravity outright."
Eaton's hands grip the edges of the dressing table as he turns to lean against it, sort of focusing on Phaedra's shoes so as not to be speaking completely away from her and making her speak to the back of his head. He's still a bit pale, but talking about anything and everything else is quite helpful. Though lacks a certain champagne and brandy and whiskey and vodka and scotch 'warmth'. Could reeeeeaaally do with a snifter of good brandy right now.
Tellar stumps slowly on to the deck of the ship and pauses briefly. His eyes closed, he simply stands for a moment, feeling the gentle rock of the boat in the shallow waters and the light rain pattering from above.
He shakes his head slightly and moves on. When he gets near the Pirate captain he spits on the man's corpse and continute past him. We've work ahead of us to get this ship moving. Is there anyone in need of ministrations?
Phaedra is still poking around the cabin, still too worked up over the days events to stand still. Taking a moment from her searching to give Eaton a concerned look; Lord Starse, maybe you should find a place to lay down for a bit. You're looking rather pale.
The young lord shakes his head and smiles wanly at Phaedra, murmering "No... I'm afraid I'd find rest a bit elusive at the moment. I've never actually taken a man's life before. Certainly not in cold blood. The bastard may have deserved it, but it doesn't mean I feel any less the murderer for it. I think I'd just really like a drink Miss Phaedra. And I'm sorry you even had to see it. Had I thought things through I would have carried him off-ship and seen to him somewhere out of everyone's sight."
Sin nods once to Eaton, descending down the stairs to the ship's lower deck as Edgar regains consciousness, immediately asking if Emilia's all right. Still cradling the man's head she laughs through her tears, smiling a smile that makes Edgar's heart jump to his throat. "I'm alright Edgar, we all are. And it wasn't stupid. It was very brave." She climbs to her feet alongside Edgar and replies, "I still have it, but Phaedra's healed my wound. It wasn't that bad... really." As the adrenaline starts wearing off, the fear and weight of it all seems to creep back into Emilia's face.
A moment later Sin returns to the deck, "Everything's empty below. Some clothes, food and swill. All the basics for running a ship. that's all though."
Meanwhile, Eaton and Phaedra have gone to the left side door at the aft of the deck, discovering the captain's quarters (They assume). A large four poster bed red silk curtains, an ornately carved wooden desk covered with quills, an inkpot, a compass, sextant and a number of maps. Running her fingers over the dark polished wood, her fingers run across the carved cabinet on it's top, two dragons - or wyverns maybe. As she traces the carving... she feels it move! Like a dial, she can turn the dragons, it clicks at 90 degrees, and a small compartment on the desk's side clicks open! Phaedra discovers a letter, sealed in the black wax from the desk with the emblem of a skull wreathed in flames.
As he searches the room, Edgar discovers a plank loose in the side of the bed's frame. Wrenching it open, he discovers his prize: A bottle of brandy, almost full!
My Lord,
The task you set before us has been completed, we took the North Star and her crew in the dead of night, killing all save the two nobles and those you specified. Captain Iago currently sails with that pretentious fop Eredin for Magnimar to secure the whelp's claim. We will rendezvous with them after to set sail to rejoin you in Absalom.
Your Faithful Servant,
~ Derevish Cale ~
After discovering the letter, Phaedra sits on the edge of the large bed looking at it. I sure wouldn't mind sleeping in this bed for the night. Phaedra cast Light upon one of the bed posts so that she can see better and examines the seal. "Lord Starse, you don't happen to recognize this seal do you? I'm curious to know what it says, should we go ahead and open it?"
"Oh thank Aroden..." Eaton blesses and lifts the bottle, looking it over. He gives it a gentle swirl, looking through the glass and holding it up to the convenient light Phaedra offers with her excellent cantrip, then summarily unstoppers it and takes a little sip. Happily, it is -not- grog! His little sip is quickly followed by four big mouthfulls, including swishing the burning alcohol around his mouth to dispel days of poor hygiene. The liquor floods his system, dispelling shakes and doubts and psychological withdrawls, leaving him feeling steadier and surer, and he certainly seems a great deal more at ease.
"All I could ask for now is a mirror and a shaving kit to get all in order...!" the lean lord rasps around the sizzle still fading in his throat. "Let's see it here..." he grumbles, sighing in pleasant surprise when his rump hits the cushy bed hip-to-hip with Phaedra. With her at his right shoulder and his right hand on the bedspread, he balances the bottle on his knee and sort of peers over her shoulder down at the envelope, chewing his lip as he wracks his brain for a clue as to the origins of the skull wreathed in flames. "Make sure to check through the paper for any explosive runes or hidden seals, Miss Phaedra. If I were going to write someone a secret message, they'd know in advance not to read whatever is on the lower right corner of the page or some such, as that's where the glyph or trap would be hiding. Your lesser identification cantrip will often give you a clue, particularly if you recognize evocation magic on it. My father tells some wonderful stories about Sensui the Elf Ranger in his old company who used to fire arrows into the enemy encampment with such a spell -tied- to the arrow and addressed to the leader as a message of parley. Apparently nothing wreaks havoc in a camp of brigands like immolating their leadership by their own hand. I mean really, can you think of a situation where you wouldn't immediately try to open and read a message that flew into your camp on an arrow?"
Phaedra blushes as she realizes she's sitting on a bed next to a rather handsome man. However, her mind is briefly taken off that topic at the mention of explosive runes and booby-trapped letters. "I never would have thought of checking for such a thing. Give me just a moment and I will check it for any magical auras." Focusing intently upon the letter, she casts Detect Magic upon, attempting to determine if it is actually booby-trapped.
Edgar puts his hands on Emilia shoulders to console her. "It will be alright Emilia. I know it was rough but we survived the worst of it. We somehow survived and took out a pirate base. We'll return everything to as it was, I know it. We will thwart your brother's foolish plan and make Fredrick proud of us." Edgar says, looking Emilia right in the eyes. With everything that has happened, it's hard to resist pulling her into his arms. "Wa-Once we get out of this place we will work on getting a crew to properly sail this boat, and set off to foil Eredin's plans. Perhaps Tellar, Sin, Eaton and Phaedra would be willing to help. Their lives were thrown in turmoil by all of this too. They might want to see justice done..."
Once Tellar makes it onto the scene and asks if anyone needs healing, Edgar lets go of Emilia and turns to him "Well, I'm not too bad, but I guess I could use some administration."
Once healed, Edgar asks Tellar "I don't know much about magic, but you and Phaedra can both heal... does that mean that you can also do that magical spell that lets you tell if stuff is magical? The Captain would have a larger cut of the loot than the other pirates, so his stuff is probably more valuable, possibly even magical..."
As Eaton lands on the bed, he feels a hard lump underneath his posterior. Shuffling for a moment through blanket and mattress, he finds a pouch, filled with gold! As he's rooting around by the bed, Eaton also discovers a small chest underneath the bed. For a second his heart leaps, more alcohol? maybe, or more coin?
Instead, the chest contains a dozen or so books, a case with charcoal and a variety of colored powders, as well as a leatherbound folio of parchment. Flipping through, Eaton sees that Captain Derevish was quite the artist. The sketchbook is filled with a number of excellent drawings. There are many naked women - a number of which seem to have been "signed" by the models in question with a ruby red kiss - sketches of the sea or a shoreline as seen from the deck. a grizzled old pirate with a braided grey beard. Even one of the Orc pirate they faced, wielding that massive greatsword. The Orc's eyes are blood red and his sword seems to be covered in ice...
Meanwhile, on the deck, Edgar ponders the fate of their ragtag band and their newly acquired vessel. He had to admit that in all honesty crewing the ship would be extremely difficult. To crew a caravel like this they would need at least seven sailors, at present they had six. It was true that the duties of a navigator and captain could be done by one person if needed (though it would make both task more dificult) but there was also a question of how effective Tellar could be with his limp?
Tellar knew they could limp to Riddleport - probably with little trouble if they secured the aid of their two captives - but any journey further could as likely be suicide instead of salvation.
Standing on the deck, Emilia slings the bow over her shoulder, Shivering a little - whether from cold or fear, who could say - before looking to Tellar and Edgar, "You two are our real sailors, You should take charge... I.. I think we need to get onto open waters and can decide what to do from there."
Detecting no magical auras upon the letter, Phaedra will open it and read it aloud while Eaton gets up to rummage under the bed. "My Lord, The task you set before us has been completed, we took the North Star and her crew in the dead of night, killing all save the two nobles and those you specified. Captain Iago currently sails with that pretentious fop Eredin for Magnimar to secure the whelp's claim. We will rendezvous with them after to set sail to rejoin you in Absalom.
Your Faithful Servant,~ Derevish Cale ~ . Lord Starse, is Eredin the name of Miss Emilia's brother? Mi'lord? What exactly are you looking at? Phaedra's cheeks turn bright red as she looks over Eaton's shoulder and sees the nude portraits of the pirate captain's various women.
Eaton goes through pretty well everything with a very discerning eye. One might be able to sell these portraits in port for a small handful of gold to the lonely and lascivious sailors at the docks, but truly, the artistry and subject matter deserve a greater appreciation.
Eaton takes the time to appreciate them.
"Well, these are really quite good. Excellent lines... the dog..." he chuckles "What do you think, Miss Phaedra...? A tasteful pose, a few hours locked away with me here in private, dishabille? I can think of no more exquisite model to end the collection. I'm a fair hand with charcoal sketching..." His eyes twinkle and he just can't keep the grin from breaking his face, his high cheekbones colored a touch as well, and the tips of his ears. "We should study these, there may be a clue or two as to our further adventures. Certainly if we keep a sharp eye we might be able to trace all the ports this captain has been to by the models in these drawings. The Half-Breed we already met... so who's the Old Captain?" His shoulders shake with repressed laughter, and he's quite expecting to have to fend off some slapping...
He chuckles a bit more and nods to her question "Yes, Eredin Valdemar is the man who betrayed us to pirates, apparently for his family fortune. Why he would specify to leave the Navigator, Sin, and our good Master Priest alive, however, I do not know. Why would he -specify- those particular passengers? I don't see the possible use. Mysteries and Mysteries. ... And rather well-drawn nudes!" Lord Starse is hitting the bottle fairly hard and frequent, but he's slowing now, relaxing, the alcoholic burn cooking off all his tension and worry, and bringing out that suave and savvy playboy reputation he spends most of his non-work time living up to. All lascivious smirks and witty banter.
Having moved to within inches of Eaton, Phaedra's hand is raised and she barely catches herself in time before she attempts to slap him across his face. Eyes bright with anger, she responds; "I can assure you that I am not the type of girl who goes around taking her clothes off in front of men she has just met. If not for the chance of an actual clue hidden somewhere in those drawings, I'd set fire to the whole lot and toss the ashes overboard. As it is, I am sorely tempted to toss you overboard." Given that Phaedra is over a foot shorter than him and at least 100 pounds lighter, Eaton undoubtedly realizes how ridiculous that threat to him is.
Trying to compose herself as she tries to focus on more important matters than Captain Cale's subject matter, Phaedra wonders; "Their choices of who to keep is a bit odd. Emilia I understand, I can even understand a bunch of superstitious pirates being unwilling to kill a priest and perhaps they thought that someone might actually be willing to pay good money to get you back mi'lord, but the rest of us?" Shaking her head in confusion, Phaedra ask; "Please, just put those drawings away for now and lets show Miss Emilia this letter. I'm sure she would want to read it." Eyeing the amount of alcohol now missing from the bottle in his hand, Phaedra clearly is worried about being in here alone with a drunk Eaton.
"Ok then. Tellar get things started here with Eaton Phaedra and Emilia. Sin and I will go retrieve the items left behind and the two pirates."
When Edgar arrives he picks up all the weapons and addresses the two pirates. "You're captain is dead. You have a choice, if you come with us to man the laughing rogue, you may go free when we reach riddleport." he does not state the other choice but it should be obvious.
If refused, Edgar nods to Sin and they run the pirate trough. If either of them agree, he has them carry the fullplate and shield back to the boat.
Gasping in mock shock, Eaton puts his hand to his chest at Phaedra's looming threat. "I am amiss! I am aghast! A fool! A cad! My lady is of course correct, and I must be punished." The tipsy lord leaps up from his place, scattering drawings about the floor, and takes a smooth step away from the side of the bed to spin and execute a deep and flourishing bow to Phaedra. He whacks the bottle down on the table as he rises and clasps his hands before him. "I should of course be punished for such familiarity. Even though I beg forgiveness from the lady... her beauty clearly struck me witless. The guards shall usher me hence and hurl my offense to the sea. Mercy! Clemency!"
Eaton laughs merrily and holds his elbows up high, clearly clowning being dragged out by tall and burly guards. "Our time was short, Miss Phaedra, but I shall treasure every moment. Take the blackguards letter to Miss Emelia and see she is apprised. These men will take me to my watery fate. Adieu! Adieu!"
The young lord turns and races around to mount the castle, and leaps from the stern of the ship to the deeper water with a resounding cry of "For my ladyyyyyy~*splash*! and jumps feet first into the drink.
At the sound of a splash over the side, Tellar leans over the rail and scans the water. As Eaton's head breaks the surface laughing, Tellar glares down at the man, his voice gravelly and severe. If you're quite through, mi'lord, you are needed on deck.
Turning from the rail, he raises his voice to the rest of the erstwhile crew. Haul those lines! Prepare to weigh anchor when Edgar returns!
Phaedra runs over to the railing from where Eaton jumped into the sea. "Lord Starse! Eaton! Are you all right? If you are, then get your arse back up here on this ship right now! Pretending to drown is not funny."
Cursing under her breath about drunken, handsome idiot lords, Phaedra goes to find a rope to toss overboard for Eaton to climb up. On the way, she hands the letter over to Emilia and Tellar. "I hope this doesn't upset you too much Miss Emilia, but you should read this."
Having handed off the letter, Phaedra goes about trying to coax the drunken Lord Starse back aboard the ship so that they can prepare to sail out to sea.
The water is fairly still down here and the leather armor he's wearing is buoyant enough... Eaton was just swimming around to the dock-side when the rope flops into the water beside him... Still snickering, the wet lord hauls himself up, braced against the side, to pull up over the rail and onto the deck once again.
Blowing water off the tip of his nose he nods to the lame oracle "Aye, aye, Master Priest. Where do you need me? Afraid I'm mostly unfamiliar with the operation of anything bigger than a dinghy..."
Looking down at his wet, salty state, Eaton brings that ever-useful spell to his lips once more, snapping "Du-kagn armot!" The water steams off him all over, beads running off and sizzling on the deck before vanishing all around him in a haze of warm fog, quickly shredded and blown away by the draft from the mouth of the inlet. He even runs his hands through his hair to smooth it back down, nice and neat.
Though glad that Eaton made it safe back aboard, Phaedra's tempted to push him back overboard for scaring her. With a stern look at Eaton, she says; "Scare me like that again and I will toss every bottle I find overboard."
Turning to Tellar; "I'm going to try to find something below deck to wear. I don't think I can do much in this long skirt. I definitely can't go about climbing the rigging in it." Phaedra then goes below deck trying to find something to do shipwork in, fully aware that she's going to have to cut about a foot of cloth off of whatever pants she finds so that they will hit her at mid-calf. Probably have to find a sash or scarf to use as a belt too, even then they'll still hang a bit low. Of course all those pirates were a lot bigger than me. Oh well, this outfit is just temporary. She'll also take a piratey hat if she finds any.
Once suitably attired, Phaedra returns to the deck and tries her best to follow whatever orders Tellar gives on how to prepare the ship to set sail.
In the caves, the two pirates look back and forth between each other, clearly bewildered, "Blimey.. they killed Derevish" mutters one before the other - the more assertive of the two - nods to Edgar. "We'll man the Rogue sir. We know that ship like the back of our hands, and I'd much rather crew for you than in Dagon's depths."
With the aid of the two pressed crewmen, Edgar and Sin manage to cart all of the loot back to The Rogue in one trip, and arrive just in time to see Eaton being hauled out of the water.
The young Lordling is laughing wildly as he prestidigitates himself dry again, before Emilia storms up to him. A hard swing, a vicious CLAP! and a red print across Eaton's cheek delivers quite a clear message. Emilia's eyes are burning with anger and brimming with tears, "You absolute ass!" she screams, "After all we've been through, how close we are to being safe again and you have the gall to be drunk!?"
Without another word she spins on her heel and in a much calmer voice - though one that clearly just holds back the torrent of emotions - she looks to Edgar and Tellar. "Get us out of here."
With the aid of the two prisoners and everyone else, the Laughing Rogue's anchor is drawn, her sails set and she slowly drifts out onto the nightime sea. As she breaks free of the cove and her sails billow and at the command of her wheel she tilts and veers to the north. The more assertive of the two pirate captives grips the helm of the ship, leaning into his turn as he rights the vessel. With the task done he turns and looks pointedly at Edgar. "Orders Captain? To Riddleport?"
Eaton takes the slap quite good naturedly, and even appologizes for startling her by way of "No harm meant, no harm done, Miss Emelia. We should all share a drink! At least by dinner time. We've a lot to celebrate, and a lot to be sober on. Dulling the senses and damping the memories can only be good this day. I say we take the edge off every hour and leave a nice soft fuzzy glow around the world."
He's quite sobered by the threat of doing away with all the alcohol on board, and takes it very seriously. So it's off to work. He'll take his cues from Edgar and Tellar... they're the shantiest of seamen and actually know what they're doing.
"What happened-"
Without another word she spins on her heel and in a much calmer voice - though one that clearly just holds back the torrent of emotions - she looks to Edgar and Tellar. "Get us out out of here."
"Y-yes Emilia!" Edgar responds assuming that it was Eaton being Eaton.
With the aid of the two prisoners and everyone else, the Laughing Rogue's anchor is drawn, her sails set and she slowly drifts out onto the nightime sea. As she breaks free of the cove and her sails billow and at the command of her wheel she tilts and veers to the north. The more assertive of the two pirate captives grips the helm of the ship, leaning into his turn as he rights the vessel. With the task done he turns and looks pointedly at Edgar. "Orders Captain? To Riddleport?"
"…"
Edgar looks and notices no one is near him. "W-wait. You mean me?! C-captain? I ahh… Y-yes. To Riddleport..." Edgar says totally caught off gaurd. Once the 'new crew members' have their task, and when Edgar has a spare moment, he seeks out Emilia.
"Emilia, do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you. The pirates think I am the captain of the ship. Obviously you should be the captain. We should make that known...
...also, umm. If you need to talk about things... Y-you know, get something off your chest... well, I'm here for you. You don't have to bottle it up inside..." Edgar says, trying best to hide his own sadness from his voice. Edgar shares some of the same losses as Emilia.
Standing on The Rogue's deck, Emilia glances to Edgar. She gives him a look that's a mix of empathy and sadness, and – somewhat shakily – pats the sailor on his shoulder reassuringly. ”I'm sorry Edgar, I know this has to be as hard on you as it is for me... We'll talk soon. Alright?” She waits for a fraction of a moment, before nodding once and pulling back, and it's almost as if Edgar can see the girl's shields raise up again. ”Once we're on open waters, I'd like to see everyone in the...” she stops a moment, her words cut short as the reality of everything sets in. ”I'd like to see everyone in my cabin. Have Sin watch after our two conscripts.” She thinks for a moment longer before finishing, ”The deck is yours.”
The words come from her mouth naturally, but it is still an odd feeling between the two. They're words they've each heard a hundred times, coming from Frederick to his own first mate.
As Emilia retires herself to the captain's quarters, the lone pirate at the helm lets out a low, long whistle. Edgar turns a reproachful look towards the man, but is only greeted with an easy and friendly smile. It's the first time he's really gotten a good look at the man. He's a ruggedly handsome man, probably just past his thirtieth winter, with coal black hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and skin tanned auburn from a life under the sea's sun. The man only wears a pair of breeches and a white tunic, having been stripped of his armor and weaponry. ”You know, truth be told, I can't say I've lived a good life. And I'm not stupid enough to think that come my judgement day, Pharasma going to have anything but chain for my soul...” The surprisingly verbose pirate offers an open and easy smile - as if he accepts this simple fact about his destiny – a thought that seems at odds with his own self-damnation, ”But I've been around the world enough times to know something special when I see it. That one,” he nods to Emilia, [b]”She's as special as they come.”
The sailor leans into the ship's wheel, not giving any force but using his weight for leverage, and Edgar feels the deck beneath him list lazily along the waters. ”I suppose I owe you thanks.” the man says, ”As I said, I'm not stupid. I'm figuring that I owe the fact that I still have a head on my neck to you. So thank you.” in a more serious and solemn tone he states, ”I owe you my life. You won't regret that.” and then more lightly he finishes, ”Name's Donell, if you're interested. Thought it might be easier than 'knave' or 'prisoner.'”
Under Donell's careful guidance, the Rogue drifts calmly out of the cave and onto the ocean. As she clear's the mouth of the cave, Tellar yells a hardy [b]”Hoist the sails!” and Eaton and Phaedra respond in kind. Pulling hard on lines strung through pulleys, the ship's off dark brown canvas sails unfurl up along her masts, and Tellar and the unnamed pirate captive tie them off.
In less time than any but a seasoned sailor would expect, The Laughing Rogue has set sail on the open water. Donell gives the wheel a hard spin to his right and the ship tilts in, wheeling on its side so that the shoreline, already a distant speck in the night sky, tracing along the ship's starboard side.
Calling out in a commanding voice from his position at the helm, Donell calls, ”Oscar, see to the lanterns!” And as if he's responded in kind a hundred times before – and maybe he has – the smaller of the two pirates goes about lighting a series of lanterns around the ship. One on the prow, one on either side. And then one on either side of the ship's sterncastle. ”I think it would be best to keep us a ways from shore sir, At least until daylight.” Donell mentions to Edgar.
Tellar shuffled back on to deck, the clean clothes feeling better on his skin. For a moment he just paused and closed his eyes, feeling the ship sway smoothly beneath him and the wind of passage blowing across the deck, feelings of calm washing through him.
Heading to the bow, he glanced back at Donnell at the wheel and gave the man a brief nod. While Tellar still maintained a wary perspective on the two pirates, he knew only too well the vagarities of the sea and that one day's enemies could be the next's salvation. Still he had decided to reserve his judgement for the time being and see what came of Edgar's decisions regarding the men.
Checking the lines briefly, he settled down near the railing, watching the waters flow by underneath. Riddleport was still someways over the horizon but to Tellar it was already too close, the journey too short no matter the distance.
Eaton purses his lips in brief annoyance. He'd really rather gotten attached to the idea of that being 'his' bed for the duration of the voyage. And maybe Phaedra's. Well, with any chivalry in play it really -should- go to Emelia. No doubt Phaedra's rougher up-bringing will make her more accustomed to sleeping in mixed company in what is probably an open deck of rope hammocks and with some mere sheets hung for privacy. Eaton would still prefer some solid carpentry. When he conquers foreign territory there's inevitably wailing at the impaling of the captive, and a ratty bit of cloth just won't even offer the pretense of sound-proofing.
Such is life! Once back into civilization we can do some work and see about properly appointed living and working spaces aboard ship. The young lord still has a healthy buzz on and can ride that for a while, following the priest's commands and hauling rope and helping to run the ship. Lord Starse is quite fit from working the anvil, and this is different work, but no harder than that. He's -seen- sailors doing it often enough that he should be able to get the gist of it. He does conspire to stay close to the witch where possible, though, flirting with some coy looks and a wry little smirk... "Setting siege" as the gentlemen call it...
"Yes, she is very special." Edgar says in a serious manner, giving Donell a look to make sure that he is aware that when it comes to Emilia, Edgar doesn't play around.
"It is good to officially meet you, Donell," Edgar says, the seriousness now gone to a much more casual and friendly tone. The young man actually reminds him of himself when he was his age. "My name is Edgar. You seem to be quite Eloquent for a pirate. Do you mind me asking how you became one? Being a pirate doesn't seem like a very sought after career choice." Once Donnell has had a chance to answer, Edgar continues to question Donell. "Being that Riddleport is the closest city to your old base, I assume that you and Oscar have been there quite a few times? Tell me everything you know about the city. How would one gather a good crew to pilot the Laughing Rogue? ...And how is the Rogue's notoriety as a pirate ship?"
---
Once their conversation is over, Edgar makes his way below deck to change into dry clothes. He finds whatever looks decent and comfortable enough. He grabs a bolt of soft cloth to use as a bandana, placing it into a pocket for later use when it is hot enough to cover his head. He also looks for something to pull his sandy blond hair back into a ponytail again. Despite the current state of his coat, he hangs it up to dry for later use. It was his first coat as a real navigator on a ship, and despite it's horrible tatters, he cannot bring himself to cast it away. He finishes off his new look with one of the cutlasses. When Edgar emerges, he looks basically the same, sans coat and rougher clothing.
---
Edgar is absentmindedly spinning the cutlass in his hand as he used to do as a child, when Donell mentions staying away from shore. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea." Realizing he is spinning a weapon in his hand, he sheathes it and then he takes a minute to check that they are truly heading for Riddleport.
Knowledge (geography)
Once he is satisfied that they are heading in the right direction, Edgar makes his way to the meeting in Emilia's cabin.
Phaedra scurries about the deck of the ship in her stolen pirate clothes, taking direction from any who offer and doing her best to help get the ship sailing. I figured Emilia would end up as captain. I wonder how long it's going to take before Edgar is sharing that cabin with her. Anyone with eyes can see how head over heels he is for her, though I can't quite make out how she feels about him. I think they'd make a wonderful couple. I wonder if I'll manage to find anyone for me? Phaedra's eyes wander over to where Eaton is hauling on a rope and lets them linger on him for a while. I wonder if his attitude will mellow at all while on this ship? He is very handsome, but extremely arrogant.
After the ship is safely on the open water and she isn't needed on deck, Phaedra finds her way to the galley and attempt to make some lunch for everyone. None of us have eaten since we were kidnapped. I think a good meal would help improve everyones spirits even more.
Hauling ropes is harder than it looks! Young Lord Starse would far rather be working below-decks at a drawing table with a forge than pulling his weight above-decks with the 'crew'. He'll follow direction here though... he has no idea what he's doing, really, and only Tellar keeps him on task. He's used to mimosas in the shade when shipboard, not hard labor.
If I don't find something to occupy my time more to my station and my talents, this entire trip is going to -suck-. Playing with Phaedra is always amusing, but as she vanishes below decks he grumbles and darkens... Until Tellar pulls him off whatever he's doing and sets them to join Emelia in the cabin, he continues his work.
Edgar is the first to enter the Captain's chamber. He finds Emilia sitting at the desk, the folds of her blue dress rumpled around her ankles, her face lit by the flickering of a candle set on the desk. There's a small pile of rolled parchments - maps, Edgar would guess from the size of them - strewn on the bed. Emilia, for her part, is engrossed in the letter that Phaedra gave her. Her eyes trailing over it again and again.
On his entry, She looks up and smiles a polite smile to Edgar. "Ready then? Be a darling and grab those." she nods to the maps. Waiting for him before going through the second door into the galley, where the others are already gathering.
In all honesty, Phaedra hadn't been able to find much in the ways of food. But to everyone there, the smells of salted beef and potatoes fried in larder may have well been a five course meal prepared by the master chefs of Taldor.
Phaedra, who by now is rather sweaty after standing in front of the hot stove, greets everyone as they come into the galley and points out the plates stacked on the table to them. "Please help yourself everyone. I'm sorry that there didn't seem to be too much in the way of variety left in the ship's larder. Hopefully when we make port we can buy some decent food and drink."
Phaedra asks; "How long do you reckon it will be before we make port? You said we are going to Riddleport, right?"
Eaton settles at the head of the table and stretches, still shirtless, relaxing in the still air of the galley. They need one of those enchantments that moves the air all around for them to keep things fresh and cool. He waits a long moment, expecting Phaedra to serve him, and when she does he smiles angelically at her and croons "Sweet as honey and not half as slow. You're a treasure..."
He daintily slices through his fare, chewing thoughtfully as he watches the witch move about the kitchen, and flicks his gaze to Emelia as soon as Phaedra asks the looming question "I still say a bad idea, too. You -know- what happens in Riddleport, Emelia. Under the arch there is no law. Mobs rule the streets, men are robbed in broad daylight, press-gangs roam the docks looking to enslave those who can't defend themselves. Desperate mages studying the cipher come and go, and they're less than scrupulous about how they refill their pouches, and where they get their sacrifices... I read that one in -four- visitors to the city dies, and another one in four ends up press-ganged or otherwise enslaved, indebted, or addicted. That means of the five of us, one dies, one enslaved, and a third has a fifty fifty shot of either... or both..."
He takes another bite and chews thoughtfully, hmmming and nodding at Phaedra "Very good. Excellent for an unfamiliar kitchen. Is there sherry to go with?" he mimes tilting back a stemmed glass and looks at the lovely kitchen-witch expectantly.
Phaedra raises an eyebrow at Starse's miming and comments; "I don't believe pirates are known for their love of sherry m'lord. Perhaps you can procure some when we reach port. Though it doesn't sound as if I would care to leave the ship when we do. Is Magnimar our only other choice of port? Neither option sounds appealing." Though you certainly look appealing....*sigh*
Phaedra finally takes a seat at the table and begins to eat, glancing up from her plate when spoken to, but otherwise lost in thought.
"Hmmm... well... There's a two hundred mile stretch of the varisian gulf-coast and the lovely fogscar mountains you see out here to our right between Magnimar and Riddleport. They're in opposite directions and I think we might be 'between' them. This ship travels.... oh... seventy-five miles a day? Is that right, Mister Arrowni? Not more than two days the opposite direction and I think we land in Magnimar instead of Riddleport... or we can land in Riddleport this evening... Or we can head clear of the Devil's Elbow and land in Roderic's Cove... but I think that may just be Riddleport in smaller detail. I know less about the township, but I understand the more discerning sailor would land there instead." Eaton expounds at some length, mashing his potatoes with his fork and drawing little lines as if in in illustration of the route... then he takes a bite out of Magnimar.
Edgar shakes his head as he watches Phaedra fix Eaton's plate like some overly pampered child. Is he going to ask her to cut his meat too? Sheesh.
When Eaton brings up not going to Riddleport, Edgar interjects. "I don't know where your getting your statistics from, but If we stick together and are smart about it, everything will be fine. Places like Riddleport are always exaggerated. Sure there is danger there, but if it is as bad as you say, the community couldn't survive. We will be careful and smart about where we go and what we do, and we will be fine. I like your odds of going to Riddleport a lot better then the odds of us sailing somewhere else without even half a proper crew and low food supplies. You might not realize it but we are not going anywhere close to full speed. We are literally limping this ship. If we take it to open see we won't survive, and even if we do hug the coast for another port nearby, we are sitting ducks for pirates or others whom might want to take this ship down."
"There is a few other things we have to consider. We are on a pirate ship. I am sure it has a reputation as such and we will most likely bring unwanted attention and possibly deemed as pirates for sailing it. Also, If word gets back to Emilia's Brother that we are alive, I'm sure he will twist a tale and get us branded as fugitives..."
Edgar pauses for a moment to decide if he should say what he is going to say.
"...It might be in our best of interest to mascaraed as pirates... We have a pirate ship, We have alot of pirate clothing, we will be crewing up in Riddleport... We might be able to attack Eredin's trade routes and either draw him out or at least hurt his reputation. What do you guys think?"
Phaedra looks quite uncomfortable at Edgar's comment about getting branded as fugitives and when he is done speaking, she hesitantly speaks up while keeping her gaze lowered.
"Despite the dangers mentioned, I think I would still choose Riddleport as our first destination. We really don't have much in the way of food and supplies. I'd rather not risk running out if the trip to Magnimar would take longer than expected due to our small and inexperienced crew. Though I must admit that I am biased against going to Magnimar because...well, because I suppose I've already been branded a fugitive there. The only reason I boarded the Northstar was because it was the first ship I could book passage on and I was in a hurry to leave port before the guardsmen could catch up to me."