Thieves of the Skies [Open / Accepting ]

When the RP is revamped, should we restart, or just add to it?

Restart!	72.2%	[ 13 ]
Add On!	27.8%	[ 5 ]
Total Votes:			[ 18 ]

[The Grim Armorer]

Straids gaze seemed to become dull and lifeless at the sound of her voice, his expression moving from that of a hungry pirate to a bored student listening to the tired ramblings of a professor. Turning away from her he drew his hair up over his ears his left hand swatting a thin red tie from the table to pull the long golden strands of his hair into a short tail. As she stalked him he simple drew up his sleeves and rolled his shoulders, the naked muscles of his chest moving with the fluidity of a perfectly played song, natural grace that belonged more to a tiger then a human man. moving like a cat she put herself between him and the massive weapon hanging from the wall, it was a clear and present danger and he was not so surprised to see her ensure it did not end up in his hands. In fact he had planned for it, it was easy to draw attention to the massive weapon and allow all other things to hide in plane sight.

“An’ just what is yer plan, Straid?”

He opened his mouth ever so slightly, bright teeth flashing between a slight smile that never really left his face. He then closed it once more, and shrugged. He was new to this captains game but he was no fool, he had come to the table with a plan. However her disinterest in cooperation was growing ever heavier, he would not share plans with a potential rival, that was just common sense.

As the woman hunted him across the room he began to do up his shirt once more, one careful button at a time his eyes watching her movements with the careful gaze of a man about to duel rather then a hunted animal. She was graceful, light on her feet and incredibly elegant. In short she was a sword master, quick and deadly and most importantly easy to read.

He barely gave his jacket a passing look though her work with his parchment forced his hand ever so slightly. Tucking his shirt in with three quick movements of his hand he picked something up off the desk. His gauntlets offered a grim tale of death and suffering, its words written in the ever present dents and slashes made by swords like hers decorated the dark metal like grisly prizes. These he applied with quick ease, something dark rising in his gaze as he followed her from his quarters.

His powerful measured pace slowly closed the gap between them as she turned, flexing his hands into fists of steel he felt the weapons settle onto his flesh like a second skin, the act corded heavy muscle that ran all the way to his neck. His hair tied back and his shirt set he looked like a young prince, the bizarre almost ancient armor upon his fists however brought into question just how civilized this prince was. The insult to his crew had drawn a strange taste in his mouth, anger bubbled in the young man though he kept it from his face. He felt it uncoil from his gut, the almost constant pressure of having to hold it at bay releasing like a lovers sigh, he almost cooed as it rose up inside him.

“Never trust anyone.”

“Who said anything about trust girl.” She had her back to him now the beat of his boots whispered up the gang planks like a dark taunt, wounded or not he was starving to shatter this woman. His gaze slid over the shadow of Martan, his body swinging gently upon the breeze, the sight of it reflected in eyes the color of thin ice. “However distrust is earned, and ye have earned it true and fair. Ye will leave me jacket, and me plans before ya take another step Captain Vox or ye will be needing that pretty little sword of yers.” His words rose from him ever more decorated with his heavy northern accent, it sung between the rolling R’s and drawn out S’s. Not a threat, simply fact.

He was just crossing the barrier between his chambers and the deck, his metal fingers reaching out to grasp the hilt of the massive weapon. Before her the watching pirates suddenly grew quite, faces turning white as they eyed their captain. Fear numbed their tongues as his shadow fell upon them, golden light from inside his cabin stretching it across the deck like a dark phantom. Even with the huge weapon folded it looked like the kind of sinister tool one would expect in the hands of some terrible demon born from old forgotten stories.

He surprised himself with the steadiness of his hand as he approached the woman, the kind of cold cloak falling over his muscles that only came moments before bloodshed. Rain began to patter about him, a single cool strand running from his hair and down the hansom lines of his face to drip from the sharp angle of his jaw. He had been civilized with this woman, treated her as well as any guest and she had returned the favor with a spit in his eye, she thought him weak and young, untrained and unworthy. He had been dealing with that attitude his entire life and not just at the hands of Martan Multch, and all these people had one thing in common.

They were all dead.

[Toxic Fascination]

#C0A788 - Speech || #98CABF - Thought

As if by some silent signal, one of the Jester's crew stepped before Vox in an attempt to stop her. Her eyes grew stormy as she lowered her eyebrows, tilting her head downward. A simple flick of her thumb and her sword was propelled two inches from its sheath, ready to taste the warmth of his life blood.

Distrust is earned, eh? She felt her jaw tighten as Straid addressed her with a casual nonchalance. She had played a dangerous card but she had wanted him to follow her, to demand the things she took from him. As he mentioned the possibility of needing her sword she took two slow, gracefully placed steps backwards. She adjusted her posture, her shoulders back, her chest out and rising with strength at each breath she took in.

"Distrust is earned, aye, ya be right, Captain Olaphis." Addressing her as Captain Vox, though it was her title, was insulting in a situation such as this, any pirate would know this though she let it slide due to his greenness. "But what have I really done to earn your mistrust? Who's to say that you can't trust me?" A smirk danced upon her lips as she sauntered back to the man who stood near the threshold of his quarters.

"I do believe I did not kill a man fer power. Nor did I drug a cap'in in a fair game ta win an advantage - thus I did not break the code uv a Captain's Game." She knew Alastor had to have been drugged. She had seen him after more pints than what he had back at the Flag. She had no proof it was Straid but she could take a wild guess. "I don't deal in the game o' trickery, Mr. Olaphis. I deal in speech and sword. You may rely on yer cunning an' charm. But that will get ya nowhere with me. This bein' said, my dear...."

She was now face to face to the man again, her face inches from his. She tugged at the hemline of his trousers, still unbuttoned from earlier. "Do not misjudge my character based on a game I play with yer mind." She pulled the parchment from her belt and placed it deep within his own trousers, her hand lingering for a moment before finding its way to his hand which held his blade. She pinned it to the frame of the door behind him, her right arm moving with blinding speed to draw her blade and slide it inches from his throat, pinning him against the wall with it while pressing her chest against his.

He could smell the sweet scent of the smoke she had been breathing just moments ago as she kissed the corner of his mouth and then onward to his neck, licking his ear before whispering to him. "This blade does not touch the flesh uv a soul not destined fer death, Captain. Don't risk yer life over a piece of cloth and do not threaten me. I am the last woman in Salos ya wish ta see angered. I am calm now, but ya best believe if ya say I be needin' my blade again I won't hesitate to let it find yer personal first mate." Her upper thigh rubbed against his 'mast' though her eyes, seductive as a siren, spoke of blood. "Ya can keep yer parchment. But I'm keepin' the jacket as an heirloom. If ya ever dare to hunt me er my ship and have a more civilized conversation, ya can 'ave it back. But I'll not be negotiatin' terms with ya on yer ship. It's not the way we real cap'ins operate."

She bit his earlobe hard before pressing her sword tighter against the flesh of his throat, his adam's apple struggling under the pressure. "You won me as a whore, which I am not. You won me from a man that was drugged, thus the game was compromised and hardly worthy of bein' called a game. If ya have a problem with me leavin' I'd be glad to ask the game master back at the flag ta clarify the rules. But I doubt ya be wantin' that on yer plate. So I'll be leavin' now, wetha ya be satisfied er not." She allowed her eyes to glance down at the parchment that created a bulge in his trousers before smirking, taking a step back, still holding his wrist and her blade.

"Choose yer enemies wiser, Captain Olaphis. This world is not black n' white. Just because I'm not wit' ya doesn't mean I'm against ya, mate." Her eyes looked to be testing if she could trust him as she let go of his wrist and removed her sword at the same time.

[ OOC: I had permission from Grim to godmod a bit. ]

[The Grim Armorer]

She came at him like lightning, her feet a blur of motion with the same well practiced steps he had seen in Martan before his demise. Speed was definitely as much part of this woman as the air she breathed, the weapon lashing out in a glorious arch of steel. He took a single step backwards then to the right as she latched upon his right wrist, the heavy weapon shifting in his hand as if he was holding some ungodly huge dagger, his fingers sliding into the trigger just as his back hit the wall and her weapon rose to his throat, the taste of it upon his flesh cool and satisfying.

His breath smelt of spiced whiskey and conflicted fury, his body solid as stone under her. Tiny fingers encased his wrist, the powerful limb below offered no resistance as if he was enjoying a lovers bed games rather then a threat to his life. He towered over her, his face was now split into a wide grin, teeth flashing like fangs between rain drenched lips. The storm had now come in earnest, pounding about them in a glorious orchestra that worked in time with his thunderous heart beat of wich she would likely feel in his wrist.

Rain parted before his head as it crashed forward with terrible speed, a connection to her nose as she spouted words that resembled some code she seemed to think made a captain. Her words caught in her throat and transformed into a agonized scream as he drew away, strings of blood drawn from her ruined face to his forehead. Only then did he push the trigger on his weapon, the incredible pressure inside its locking device released in a satisfying growl as the blade swung inwards. Both her arms were in the path of the weapons edge, no human speed could save her from watching her limbs being severed at the hands of the monstrous weapon, its terrible spikes bright red with her blood.

His boot collided with her chest satisfied with the look of horror and puzzlement that crossed her pretty eyes, her now powerless hands clattering to the ground to leak life blood in with the rain. Spinning he allowed the weapons mass to take hold of him, driving him to move faster then he himself could ever hope to without the weight of the enormous weapon. Her severed throat would greet the night rain with an open red grin, one that matched the grim flag of his ship like a salute to her killer.

His fingers relaxed on the trigger, his gaze hungry against her own, the weapon remained folded. He was intoxicated with this woman, the power of her personality drawing him ever deeper into the spiders web that was attraction. Raedals mighty mast he liked this woman.

“You won me as a whore, which I am not. You won me from a man that was drugged, thus the game was compromised and hardly worthy of bein’ called a game. If ya have a problem with me leavin’ I’d be glad to ask the game master back at the flag ta clarify the rules. But I doubt ya be wantin’ that on yer plate. So I’ll be leavin’ now, wetha ya be satisfied er not.”

“Aye girl, I cheated, bu that was no captains game. Fer that ye would have had to be sittin across from me, bring that to the Game Master, ye will be dancin at the end of a rope fer all yer trouble.”

So he moved, his head a blurr of motion towards her own. Forehead did not shatter nose, limbs remained intact. Ah but her lips, they tasted good. Graced with the gentle touch of rain and no colder for it, they radiated soft warm heat. He did not linger upon her for long his free hand clothed in steel stroked her naked cheek but for a moment, barely touching her flesh, merely brushing past it tangled with his own soft gold hair. “I consider the garment paid fer lass, tis yers I have no reason to reclaim it.” he whispered as she drew away from him, undoubtedly in disgust. That would sting him but the memory of the kiss would sooth the wound.

Truely he liked this woman.

“I hear ye rejection loud and clear, Begone from me ship. I have a crew ta organize and a hold full of coin I cannot spend until ive seen it sent ta merchants.” His gaze swept the men huddled against the rain, angry eyes moving from between Straid to Vox, hands firm on pistols and an unasked question floating between them. They knew of their captains weapon, puzzlement to the outcome was clear on their faces. “Cut ol Martan down, I can smell him on the twice damned rain.” Satisfied nods, shuffled movement towards the bow of the ship, the drawing of a knife as a young man began to climb towards their diseased ex captain. “See em buried proper, bugger was a greedy diseased fool but he died well, no point in discrasin his body.”

He looked up at the sky squinting at the rain, his white shirt now semi translucent against the ever present rainfall. She could say what she wanted of his crew but they had stored his sails, stowed gunpowder and weapons below deck. His ship was clean and without a hint to the grizzly battle that had taken place upon its deck not a few hours before. They were a bunch of rag tag pirates, half starved for coin and with murder in their hearts. In time however he would mold these men into the machine he needed to be. His blond hair stuck to his face at the sound of Martans corpse being dragged off his ship and onto the skydock. “Boy, see to it a tailer cuts me a new coat, don't think shes fit ta return it ta me” he growled as he passed the boy to oversee the dealings of Martans tattered corpse.

[thetinytimelord]

Damion kept his eyes trained on the map, while listening to the input of those around him. They all seemed very opposed to the idea of freezing to death, so that ruled out the outer lands almost immediately. However, going for treasure in Dalmenia could prove to be a risky task. Especially since they had just picked up an almost brand new crew. He bit his lip gently, surveying their options, mentally listing what had to be done before they could approach either places. No doubt other ships were aware of the treasure in Dalmenia, and he had no doubt that the gutsier of the captains would go and pursue it. "Alright, we'll make preparations to set sail for Dalmenia." He pushed himself up and away from the desk. Taking in a deep breath, he turned to face Syn. "How long do you need to make this crew into something presentable? I need them familiar with every inch of this ship. You'll also have to make sure to beat the traitor out of every single one of these men." His lips pulled up in a smirk. "Of course, you'll have to do it so that they're still loyal to the Widow, and of course me. I'm sure you'll be able to handle it Syn."

"Sheffshield, I need you to make plans for emergency landings, and places where we can get more supplies if needed. You'll need to be familiar with the area, we cannot afford to have mistakes made on this mission unless you want to end up in the queen's dungeon for the rest of your miserable life?" The very thought of being locked in a damp and dank dungeon, never to sail the skies or set foot on the Widow ever again sent uncomfortable shivers down Damion's spine.

After giving these brief instructions, Damion decided it was about time for him to introduce himself to their new crew. He gestured for the blonde to follow him up onto the deck. Once they reached the top of the stairs, he straightened his spine and cleared his throat quietly. That seemed to be enough to get the attention from the closest men, obviously wondering who this well dressed man was. "If I could have everyone's attention." Damion's voice held a commanding tone, causing heads to turn and a quiet murmur to ripple among the men. "I'm your captain, Damion Lancaster. Now a few of you already know me, and I congratulate you on making it back to the ship safely. However, most of your comrades did not, and as a result we have replaced all of them." He folded his hands behind his back, surveying the crew. "Now, I should mention that I'm not the kind of captain to tolerate traitorous men, or men that slack off. If you begin to show any of these traits, I will throw you off the ship. I will show you no mercy, and I will not hesitate to end your miserable life." An amused grin pulled on one side of his mouth.

Just as he was about to turn away and head back to his quarters, he remembered the blonde standing behind him. "Right, one more thing. This little lady is here to provide entertainment." At the sound of the vulgar catcalls and whistles among the men, his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Musical entertainment. If anyone lays so much as a finger on her, or makes her feel anything less than comfortable I will personally see to your punishment. She is here under my protection, and if you cannot respect that, then you have no place on the Widow." Damion nodded at Syn, allowing her to begin training her men. "Anne, will you come down to my quarters with me? I want you to show this young lady around the Widow. But we have things to talk about first."


Dr Watson MD


MarcelineFan0508


].[.~RubyWitch~.].[


Teen chick

Talking #539DC2

[The Grim Armorer]

Alastor watched Dainn over the soft glow of a wilting candle, the flame dancing on the edge of death as the first mates hand passed it, his splayed fingers as expectant as a bear trap. He felt like a beheaded man but could feel his personality sink back into his meat as the drugs that tore through his system began to deteriorate to nothing in his blood leaving only a brutal headache. “Dainn, whats keepin me from just draggin ye back to the Moon Raker and pulling that infermation from ye at the edge of a blade.” His eyes briefly gazed at the papers between them, it was a tempting offer and he was not above accepting it, however...

“I wonder how fast you would talk hanging naked from your ankles, yer guts slipped over your shoulders, those bright eyes of yours peeking over the loose flaps of skin as we flayed you slowly.” Alastors gaze became angry and dark, the lines around his face cracking about the eyes in a sinister fashion. “How quickly would you cry for death when we cut your fingers from your hands, fed you your own meat? I do not think you would last long. You have drugged me, humiliated me and now you attempt to cut a deal with me.” His hand dropped casually to his side.

The men about them shifted, grins splitting ugly faces. A silence fell over the table, all it would take was an inch of this captains steel and they would drag Dainn out into the street. He would be destined for torture, thus they would have no reason to be kind to him. They would beat the ever living piss from the poor man, taunt and brutalize him until they had him hanging upside down by his ankles, captains orders. Instead Alastor simply tapped the hilt of his sword his head tilting ever so slightly to one side allowing the tension to build, to grow between them.

“However Straid is a snake, who can trust such a man? His captain murdered, his crew no more then cutthroats and killers, above all he flies the dreaded Red Jester flag. Nae woman aside he is a man whom must be watched should I decide weather this venture be worth me time.” His feet still resting upon the table brushed the papers to one side, towards Issebella. “Ill tell ye what ill do. Issebella here will make this call, ye have insulted me woman and I shall have a woman decide yer fate. Should she decide ye hang I will see to it, if she wants yer heart for dinner we will cut it from your chest with a spoon. However if she decides to give ya a pass, to make a deal with ye then so it shall be.”

He drew his own pistol, the movement was fluid and natural as a man simply swatting a fly. He cocked the weapon, a deep click rising from within the pistol. So far Dainn had proven more then a little brutal towards the opposite sex, Alastor would draw pleasure at putting his life in the hands of a woman he knew to be as ruthless as they came should the situation require it. Under the shadow of his hat his face split into such a perfectly mocking smile one could believe he had been born with it upon his face.

It was then that a massive shadow passed over them, a bestial cry and the sound of heavy beating wings showered the room with the dragons presence. Stale bar air turned over at the powerful wings of Oscar the captains hat fluttering madly. The dragon settled upon him, sharp talons latching onto his left shoulder, his arm draped casually over the back of the seat acted allowed Oscar to stretch his enormous wing span naturally just behind his head. His captain had ordered the crew returned, each man here knew it and all looked to Issebella for her words of judgement. He directed the pistol at Dainns scull the shadow of the deadly weapon falling over the crossed legs resting upon the old worn table. He tilted his head every so gently his eyes vanishing behind the rim of the hat, to his left the dragon let out a commanding roar its eyes full of loathing for the first mate locked in its reptilian gaze. “Savvy?”



[OOC: sorry didnt manage a post yesterday. EDITED]

[Fabled Rhythm]

xxxxxx⋮⋮xxx~Yo-hohoho☁Yo-hohoho~xxx⋮⋮post layout by apo-chan
〖xGoing to deliver • •x Binks' Sake! ❞
xxxxxx♢ Farewell↘↘ to the ⇡harbor
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx&&to☁my old ✖ hometown

xx✖✖ Boatswain of The Red Jester. ✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖





Drake stared down into the amber yellowish liquid. The foam had settled and now it looked like nothing more then a cup full of piss. Granted though it was a good cup of piss. Pulling the mug back up to her lips she drank a hardy gulp. It was refreshing to be able to relax and drink. It had been some time since any of the members of the Red Jester had been well off and now in a single day they all were back on track.

She watched Reiner play with a coin in his hand. "I anit much for knowing what will appen or not, but I'm putting my lot in with Straid. Yer right to say he has a good ead on his shoulders and about time someone did eh. I'm bout as happy as can be at the thought of some loot haven't had a good haul in quite some time." she said while she rubbed her thumb on the outside of her cup. Loot sounded great, the cold feel of gold and the sparkle of jewels and the celebration that came with it. Ah what a sweet thought. It almost was imperative that they find some sort of loot, the crew hand gone on too long demoralized and unhappy and who knew when another mutiny could come along. They all might go down next time.

Finishing off her first mug she ordered another. She wasn't sure what to say to Reiner. The words were more then a little lost to her. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk just that she didn't want to open a subject that he wouldn't like, she was suppose to get along with him after all. "so what would ye like to talk about ?" she asked a big hesitantly.

[The Grim Armorer]

AIaddin

Spiritual starvation, it settled deep into the soul of Leon, taking hold of him in a split second and breaking him. The lights of the hall they stood within began to flicker frantically, a low eery hum rumbling through the walls of the ship. Down the hall the first of many lights shattered, shards of glass spilling upon the shiny hardwood flooring of the Titan. Then another broke, and another, and another. Darkness hunted Leon, it stalked him, he could feel its hunger for it held the same deep void that sat within his soul, and his flesh was the only way to fill it.

A high pitched scream rumbled from Leon, shaky and disturbed it bubbled up from deep within him like a wheeze, barely escaping the stranglehold of fear that constricted his vocal cords. He tore away, his feet pounding ceaselessly down the hall the sound of glass shattering mocking him all the way. His legs wet with the warm liquid that marked a man completely lost in anamalistic terror, they stung with the acidic fluid and only shamed the doomed man as he threw men aside to make his escape.

Behind him blackness followed, right up until he threw open a door and shut it with a bang. His fingers bled as he tore holes in them in a desperate bid to lock the door. He was in a small broom closet his breathing heavy in his chest and his heart so loud in his ears he was afraid it could be heard from outside. “Oh god Oh god oh please no not me, oh god oh please” he whimpered his shaky hands rising in front of his face, nails tearing at soft skin as he stared out the small port hole in the door into the hall. The shadow never ceased, never slowed. The final light shattered outside and silence fell upon Leon, cowering in a broom closet.

Silence reigned as a god for a moment, though men were just outside, yelling and moving about he could hear none of it, he could see none of it. He felt alone, cold and without any worth. He breathed heavily for a long time, each breath accompanied with a low whimper as his drawers filled with shameful taint. Something breathed in his ear, cold and dead it sounded, dry and old as ancient parchment. Then the light just above him shattered. “AAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Outside the door his screaming rose above the sound of men trying to pry the door open, the lock somehow holding under the weight of powerful mens desperate bids to save their captain. His scream was high and pure, a perfect note of fear and suffering accompanied with the sounds of breaking bones and tearing flesh. They could hear his body striking the walls and see the shadow of something inside the dark room rising and falling time and time again, ever more terrible in appearance. It seemed impossible for the man to still be alive and yet his screaming never ceased.

Then at last silence came from the room and the latch shattered, men tearing the door open to stare at the man in fozen disbelief and disgust. He was a pile of torn body parts, bones rising unnaturally from the lump of red flesh that his body had become. Upon his forehead carved as if by some great claw was the word ‘FOOL’. Leon blinked once, his face a paralyzed mask of fear and pain before his eyes finally became the cold dead fish like gaze of a corpse.

[OOC: and hes out of the RP behold the fate of those whom doth not post for a week! Our fearless leader is looking into a restart of this thread so I will not be putting a layout for this character together until I know more about that, Gods I hope I never have to use him again.]

[Toxic Fascination]

#C0A788 - Speech || #98CABF - Thought

Vox drew back in disgust, her upper lip drawn back like a dog about to tear into his throat. But instead she smiled, tilting her head a bit. If there had been poison in her drink he'd now have it upon his own lips. "Savor this moment, Mr. Olaphis. You'll not have another taste til ya taste my cold metal first." She winked at him and turned, the coat fanning out elegantly, her sword being sheathed with such speed that the movement was nearly lost in the flourish of her new garment. Her foot steps were calm, steady, and proud as she made her way to the edge of the ship, her arms wiggling into the sleeves of the jacket with ease. It was a bit big on her but it'd do.

She showed her teeth to the crew member that had stood in her way before and, as she lurched forward at him as a threat he nearly fell over to get out of her way now. Surely it was concerning to see a woman handle their new captain the way she had. She scoffed at the lad and turned her attention to her destination, throwing her weight over the railing and onto the dock that was about three feet from the port side of the ship. She landed with grace and straightened her dress, popping the collar of the jacket and lifting the hood, the extra size allowing the hood to fall onto her face, covering her eyes and protecting her form from the rain that was now falling mercilessly.

She returned to the flag were she smiled sweetly to Etrig before reclaiming her glass of wine, the shock in the bartenders eye being met with a smile. "The b*****d run off?" She asked sweetly. Pulling the hood from her head, she ran a hand though her mop of golden hair, pulling free from the tangles right before running into her loose braid.

"Nah, lass, he did as ya said an' headed righ' straight to da Oarsman. Bugger was in rough shape though." It was clear he knew she was no whore to be back wearing the coat of another captain, clearly hell bent in a thirst for blood. She downed her wine, pulled another cigarette from the case and the barkeep lit it for her before pouring her another glass of wine.

"Not bad enough, in my opinion..." She muttered, taking the glass. "I appreciate it, barkeep. Take care of the place. I'd like ta see it lively again when I return one day, aye?" She didn't even let him respond. She quickly stood from her bar stool, pushing it out a few feet with the movement. With a flourish as fast as lightning she placed her cigarette between her lips. Her left hand pulled the hood back over her face as her right hand grabbed the stem of her wine glass, turning to her left to make her exit. Any man who had been staring at her turned their gaze immediately when she walked past and silently slipped out of the bar.

Her heeled boots made easy work of the mud that was now beginning to form in the streets. Any other woman, heavy and clumsy, would probably struggle in heels like hers in the sticky ground, but for Vox she had no problem traversing the roads of her favorite town.

She made her way into the Drunken Oarsman and looked around, scanning the faces, mostly familiar, some not, for two individuals in specific. Isabelle and Alastor. There was a third face with them along with her dear, sweet companion. Removing her hood once more she approached.

"Ya keep waving that gun 'round like a child's toy yer likely to shoot yer damn eye out." The voice was cool, relaxed and collected as an elder speaking to a child about philosophy. "Put that down before I shove it down your damn throat." The bar fell silent now. Vox never broke from her part but she was irritated enough to do it now. "You, Dainn, was it? Ya best be off now. Yer captain's lookin' fer ya." She took a sip of her wine before sliding between the two men, sitting on the table.

In a split second her sword was colliding with wood, standing straight up from between Alastor's legs, stuck into his stool like Excalibur within its stone. "My first mate an' I needa have a few words." She pulled a small leather purse from the folds in her skirt, its weight insignificant compared to that of what she had lifted from him earlier but it was still a pretty som. "Call us even, friend. I promise ya don't wanna be here fer this."

She extended her hand to Oscar who let out a small, rolling noise, similar to that of a purr before climbing onto her person, clearly confused by the new jacket she wore. Her eyes met Alastor's as she drew her arm back, a wicked smile upon her features that spoke of murder. "Hello again, darling." Gods, the malice in her voice was enough to take form and drip from her like poison. She didn't draw her gaze from Alastor as she addressed Isabelle. "Did this lily-livered b*****d buy ya the drinks I promised ya, Isabelle?"

[EmperorLelouch]

Dainn

Alaestaire

Crowley

"You told me 'Yes'
__You held me high
___And I believed when you told that lie
____I played soldier, you played king
_____And struck me down, but I kissed that ring
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Dainn smirked. "I ain't never said she weren't pretty. Simply playin along with the scenario. Bit o' fun." He looked to the gun briefly, then at Alistor. Dainn wasn't afraid of death, and even if he were, the time needed for him to explain the things 'Vox' wanted to know was a hell of a lot longer than the time Dainn would be alive according to Alistor's response. Dainn shook his head "Voxy, my boy. What's keeping you from doing that is simple." He took the gun and moved it so it was at his temple. A hidden blade was at Alistor's stomach now. If Alistor's finger so much as twitched, he would die as well as Dainn.

Dainn's face was near touching Alistor's "Cuz my full name is Dainn Alaestaire Crowley. I'm the sole reason your real Cap'n is even alive today." Dainn said in a hushed tone, revealing the real reason, so only Alistor could hear. He knew that Alistor wouldn't ask for more, it wasn't the kind of man Dainn figured him to be. But that little bit of curiosity may have saved his brain some lead."Now, between us Vice Cap'ns, an' I know yer the vice cuz who else would the real Cap'n choose to play the role but the Vice, ye don't scare me an' I don't scare ye. So let's drop the tough guy act." He smirked and backed away, hiding his blade once more. Dainn eyed the woman next to Alistor. She was certainly a looker, mighty fine woman, and Dainn said but one thing to her.

Dainn's eyes hardened on the young woman. His eyes showed his determination to live. He had something to do -I won't die.- He thought to himself -I can't, not until I learn the truth.- He made eye contact the entire time. If she was to have him tortured, Dainn was prepared to slit his own throat before giving away information that valuable. He was not afraid of death, but he sure as hell wasn't going to die today. And it sure as hell wouldn't be by the hands of anyone but himself or the Dalmenian executioner. "What do ye say, Isabelle?" Dainn's voice was softer now as he spoke to the woman.

It was then that the real Vox walked into the bar, yelling nonsense at Alistor. Dainn shrugged it off when he was addressed and he left, leaving Alistor with the words "Feel free to think about my offer." As he walked by Alice, he looked her in the eyes and itched behind his right ear, then tapped his shoulder three times. If she was who Dainn thought she was, then Alice would know to meet him at the sky docks in three hours. It was an old code they had used when they were younger. If Alice didn't show up, then Dainn would know it wasn't who he thought she was.

He made his way to the ship, seeing what Straid wanted. When he walked into the room, quite unannounced, he tossed Straid a bag of money. "Got me money back, Cap'n. An' a little extra courtesy of the Vice of the Moon Raker"He stood against the wall with his arms across his chest, looking at the knife he used in the stand-off at the bar. "What do ya need of me, Cap'n?" Dainn stayed focused in his knife, glaring at it intensely. He needed to know, and three hours was too long for him to wait.

((OOC:: tired when I wrote this, if it's crap, I will fix it tomorrow))

((OOC::Edited))

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You lost that right, to hold that crown
I built you up, but you let me down_
So when you fall, I'll take my turn__
And fan the flames___
As your blazes burn."____

[].[.~RubyWitch~.].[]

「 Synthia * McBribe 」

☠ Tick ☠ There are things that must be done

☠ Tock ☠ There are battles that must be won

☠ Tick ☠ Blood must be spilled

☠ Tock ☠ I don't care if you are gravely ill

☠ Tick ☠ Obey Obey Obey

! Bosun of
The White Widow¡

Syn followed the Captain on to the deck. Standing behind him and slightly to the left. Just like how Anne would stand behind him and slightly to the right, it was something they just feel into. A habit. Synthia also never answered the Captain, because he wasn't honestly asking her how long it would take them to make them something good. He was giving her a polite order saying that she had until they got into Dalmenia. So she would do it. Her spine was rod straight as the Captain gave his speech. She would whip them into shape if she needed to, it was better not to. But if she had to she rather not be facing a hundred enemies with only Anne and the Captain by her side.

When his little speech went over to the little blonde Syn was tempted to sneer with many of the crew, but her face stayed still like stone and she gaze out into the crew. Her cold eyes buckling more of the resistance to the Captain's words. Though she did completely disagree. This girl now would be the Captain's targeted weakness... again. Even the greatest men are fools. As the Captain lead Anne and the other girl away, she did feel a kind of relief she wasn't the one who had to deal with her.

"Okay listen up men!" Syn pulled to attention once the Captain was gone. Now she was in charge, and her task was to make these men into fighters. "Our next adventure will be dangerous, even some experienced sailors have not embarked on an adventure like the one we shall set out for. It will send us right into the heart of the Queen's land! Now I don't know about you, but I rather not die." Syn paused to pace and try to look ever and every single one on the crew in the eye. "So we shall train, we shall build your bodies from the ground up. That when other try to stab that knife into your gut, them and all their friends and family regret that moment for all of time. We shall train you until our names are whispered into the winds in fear and revered. All the Queen's men shall rue the day they did not become pirates, were they could be your mates on this ship! We shall train and pay for all of this in blood, sweat and tears and that every star weeps for our greatness!! You men are what will make the Widow great, so let's make you great! Starting NOW!" Syn's speech echo across the deck, and for a moment it was silent. A single pin could drop and it would echo, the shock of the passion in Syn's speech numbing their brains. Then a thunderous roar crested over the deck. The men cheering and chanting ready, for the work ahead. Ready for blood and ready for war. Syn stared at them, trying to make it look like she actually cared about making them great. Her only goal was the task she had at hand, and if she needed to warm their hearts she would do it. Life was a battle, and if one did not want to battle on died. She will give them the skills but whether they used it was up to them.

"I will split you up into rotations of three. One will train, one will work and one will rest. Then rotate. Everyone will be working on rotations of three hours of a communal rest and free time from 10 at night to 6 in the morning. If you think I cannot keep track of you all, know that I can. NO ONE will miss their shift. Everyone will train no matter what, everyone will work no matter how sore you are. And everyone will rest so they can do the other two. The ship still needs to run, and if you don't want to use what I teach you. Then so be it. But you will be there. Greatness does not come cheap. So don't waste my time." Once again she made eye contact with everyone before dismissing them and tell them that by dinner their groups will be made and that she will be starting at 6 a.m. sharp. The crew scattered and she sighed. Hard work was a head of her, the only reason she wasn't going to be making them train all through the night was because she herself needed to sleep. AT the very least this would increase her own training time, though training at this level... Well might as well see where the chips fall.

The ship is my Castle ☠ Tock ☠

My heart and soul ☠ Tick ☠

Maybe that's where all my feelings go ☠ Tock ☠

Making it move orderly like a clock ☠ Tick ☠

So we can reach the next dock ☠ Tock ☠

Location: The White Widow * Company: Anne, Sheffshield And Captain * O.O.C:

[The Grim Armorer]

Straid was chewing a mouth full of warm freshly baked bread lathered in thick warm butter and strawberry jam when his door was thrown open casually allowing the cold of the storm outside to seep into the warm fire lit captains cabin. One finger was tracing a line of text he was following with keep blue eyes, one page upon hundreds stacked to the right of his strange breakfast esk dinner he had chosen for himself. Two glasses rested upon his table, each filled with a spicy looking whiskey though only one had been ruined by a poorly tossed cigar butt. His gaze lifted to eye his first mate, as he swallowed, taking a slow drink from his whiskey to wash down the clingy substance from his throat. “Dainn” he remarked almost warmly, his boot kicking out from under the table so that the chair on the opposite side of the table lunged outwards towards him a wet white shirt resting upon its backing. “sit”

Waiting for Dainn to take a seat he eyed the distracted manner of the man before dropping his gaze to the heavy bag resting at his plate. One brow rising slightly he used his small finger to tip it over and spill bright coins upon his table, the fire lit gold sending orange phantoms to dance upon his face. It was a hefty amount, with this along with his captured merchant ship he was looking at a small fortune and in no small part thanks to his first mate. “Ah well compliments to the vice of the moonraker, Ugly sour bunch they are one must still bow to old fashioned generosity” He grinned at Dainn, he knew full well Dainn had likely stolen it right from under the man and given the manner of the MoonRakers captain he found the news extremely pleasing, this gold easily outweighed the cost of one worn wind tattered jacket.

“I have work fer ya, ya know these shores better then any man I know, ye know the merchants and black market. Ye know where the money flows and how to make it flow into yer pocket. We have captured an entire merchant vessel along with a hefty prize that we found within its belly.” he used the tail end of his bread to push a ledger towards Dainn. It read out a list of things in their hold. Everything from barley to yarn to a small weight of ivory. Straids writing was surprisingly elogent, almost lady like in its careful scripture. “We need all tha turned to gold, then we need some of tha gold turned to wages and supplies for our next venture.” He finished his meal and shoved the plate aside before opening up a drawer in the table and fishing out a pack of heavy cigars. “More importantly I need enough gold to see the alterations I intend to have done to The Red Jester paid for, I suspect that will come at no small cost to our coffers and we still need to ensure we have enough to keep the crew happy. So soon after a mutiny it would be unwise to test their tempers.”

He drew a knife from his belt, a sharp angry looking thing and sliced one end of the cigar off before offering it to Dainn. “I understand yer place among the crew Dainn, ya bring us great wealth at almost no cost to ourselves. I would like that to continue of course, however...” he swept his hand over the piles of papers sitting before him. “..I need a first mate who can also sit upon me ship and deal with the day to day activities of this chaotic ******** we call a crew. We need order mate, men need ta fall in line, they need to know their pay will come on time and as promised so they will work and kill when instructed. Fer that I need ye, especially now with Martan dead.” He sighed heavily leaning back in his chair taking his drink with him. “Cant have ye galavantin about no matter how much coin it makes me, need ye to enforce my will, violently if required, upon this ships crew when I am not present.”

His gaze narrowed ever so slighty, a steely gaze made from brittle ice and impossibly hard forged steel Though it was not disproving, given the extreme changes Straid had been dealing with in less then four hours it was the look of a man who wanted to step away from business for a moment and speak of something else. “Yer Distracted, out with it Dainn, gods know I could use the distraction.” He gave his stack of papers a disgusted look.

[Stumbled u po n]

Isabelle Marie Armsman
Weapons Specialist aboard The Moon Raker

"It's a temptin' offer, Cap'n, can't say I've 'ad that much fun a long while." She lifted one leg, crossing it over her thigh and removing a long, thin blade from the boot. For anyone who didn't know Isabelle, the look on her face could cut through them like the blade in her hand. She looked deadly and fierce, ready for combat. Almost eager, really.

As she pointed it at Dainn, motioning to different areas of his body as though planning her night, she turned her head to see Vox enter. A frown graced her lips. "I was about t' give me answer an' all. Shame." Isabelle's eyes turned on Dainn, watching him leave. Oh, how she wanted to slice those lips clear off his face. Especially with what had happened earlier, she needed an outlet. The blade found its way back to her boot and she looked back to the Captain, holstering her weapons immediately. Best not piss the woman off anymore.

She watched Vox nearly murder Alastor with only her eyes. Yes, he was in for a hell of a night. "We were unhappily drawn from that conversation t' the one with Dainn. If it pleases ye, Cap'n, I will gladly get a drink fer meself and another fer you, sir." Her voice, although full of confidence, was polite to the Captain. She didn't want the already furious woman to turn on her, too. This day couldn't get worse, she told herself, unless she did something to anger her Captain. Isabelle stood from the table, waiting for her order to walk away.

The Grim Armorer

Toxic Fascination

[The Grim Armorer]

The weapon sunk hungrily into his seat, its edge dangerously close to his rigging and sails. Alastor did not so much as flinch though internally he could not help thank the skies for the endless hours they had spent on the girls aim. Isabella had chosen her words well, it wasn't that he had not forgotten to buy her a drink, the simply fact was that if he was to be thrown off the ship he would be twice damned if he left broke. Most of his gold he could still feel pressed against his flesh and even now made a mental check to ensure it was still safe and sound, though her blade was uncomfortably close to its private location.

“Alice” he smiled, his face flashing good humor as a mask over his true emotions. She may be breaking character, that would be tough enough to deal with, however if he broke all would be lost. Should the game masters and many of the men he had delt with to ensure their goods were sold found out of their deception they would not only find it enormously difficult to actually sell any booty but the Thieves Ring would be locked to them on pain of death. “Still as freshed faced and lovely even after the attentions of that young northern bruit whom fashions himself a captain.” His voice was light as a feather and casual, only slightly strained with the effort not allow his own temper flower into his voice. “I thought yer pay was for two days girl, ta think you got off so quickly and...”

His gaze fell upon the jacket, his face growing grim at the sight of it draped over her shoulders like a dead animal, it was miles to big for the girl. If Straid was still alive he would likely be furious, he doubted she had in any way made a trade for the garment. If not for their oncoming argument that would likely turn the deck and captain quarters of the Moon raker into a fire infused battleground he would already be recommending beating men to quarters. The wrath of a new captain loosing face in front of his men would not be a pleasurable experience, least of all when that captain stood upon a war gally the size of the Red Jester.

“...now how did you get that my dear?” he tilted his pistol ever so slightly, allowing its edge to run along the slender blade until it hit the notch in the steel causing it to ring slightly. The weapon was dead clean, not merely recently cleaned but perfectly polished, only person he knew capable of that was Issebella. She hadn't killed anyone with this weapon, that blond bugger was likely drawing breath. Fantastic.

He slid his weapon into his belt before fishing in his jacket pocket, drawing free a long sweet smelling cigarette. This he placed between his lips as he stared up at her, his movements mockingly slow and deliberate. She may be the captain but it was only at his will, it could have been just as easy for him to stand in her place and their was no way in seven hells he would let her forget that. He struck a match and sheltered it from a none existent breeze, inhaling slowly filling his lungs with first a feeble dusting of sweet smoke before the cigarette took. Exhaling he slid his matches back into hsi front pocket and grinned up at her.

[Toxic Fascination]

#C0A788 - Speech || #98CABF - Thought

Vox's eyes watched as the man spoke in a language long dead to her, much like the boy he couldn't possibly be. She found the nostalgia his sign language brought to her mind intriguing at best but she had bigger fish to flay and fry, namely the dark skinned male before her. Once Dainn was gone she turned to her crew who were all now returning to their drinks, a nervousness about them. Vox was pissed and everyone knew she was ruthless when she was angered. The blood still was yet to be completely mopped off the fins from her display earlier.

"Cut the horse s**t, Alastor, I'm done with this ********' charade. I'll not be playin' the part of yer little play thing lest ya sell me 'gain to another lily-livered scoundrel such as yerself, ya bilge rat." She took her sword from between his legs and snarled at him before waving over a waiter and pulling a pint from the man's tray and sliding it across the table to Isabelle. "Drink up, darlin', yer gonna wan a drink." She shrugged Oscar from her shoulder who immediately squawked in opposition and glided over to Isabelle, nuzzling her hair and getting his goggled tangled in the woman's mane.

"Alastor Cain!" Her voice roared above the sea of men within the Drunken Oarsman. The game master was not here, she had made certain of it, any other scoundrel that did not belong to her crew could eat his own tongue for all she cared. "You have performed mutiny in the highest offense, disgraced yer captain, and made a fool of yer whole damned crew. What say you fer yer crimes, ya slimy leech?"

[Sorry it's poorly done. I'm posting from a car on my way to the airport! I'll edit this and put more meat on its bones later. Toodles lovelies, my next post will be from across the country! <3]

[Stumbled u po n]

Isabelle Marie Armsman
Weapons Specialist aboard The Moon Raker

Isabelle nodded, thanking the Captain in a soft voice before taking the pint to her lips and sipping from it. By the time she would be back on the ship, she would be drunk. Although she could drink most men under the table, there was only so much she could handle. The Captain had guaranteed her enough to calm her nerves and send her just over the edge of her tolerance. She felt the warm, scaly frame of Vox's beloved Dragon. She smiled at the creature, feeling it rub itself against her hair and tangle itself. Always with this motion he did this, yet he never stopped. She reached up and loosened the hairs out of Oscar's goggles before letting her slender fingers scratch just under his chin. A contented growl resonated throughout the creature.

"Ever so loyal, Oscar. Best crew mate I 'ave." She whispered, her voice reaching his ears like a kitten's purr. She felt his jaw press against her soft flesh in a demand for more and happily obeyed. "Aye, I would kill fer one of ye. Captain be so lucky t' 'ave ye." She continued to speak sweetly to the creature as though she were whispering in the ear of a lover. She hadn't realized that the mug in her hand was already half empty. When did she drink so much of it? With a shrug of the shoulder Oscar wasn't on, her ears tuned themselves to the Captain's words.

Mutiny.

Her eyes widened, turning on the woman and her first mate. Mutiny?! Surely she wasn't speaking of the incident with Dainn... Perhaps the game that he lost her in. That sounded right. She listened in silence, her jaw tightening as she watched Alastor's face. Although most spoke of him as though he might be cursed, what with darkness of his flesh and the marks on his skull, she found a beauty in him. Many times had she imagined a night with him, although now she pushed it from her head. Now was not the time to remember her fantasies. Now was the time to listen in silence and fear to the Captain's words. She looked down at her drink before pressing it to her lips, drinking until the mug was empty. She set it upside down near the edge of the table, averting her eyes from the Captain and her first mate while idly scratching at the creature on her shoulder, hearing the growls rumbling throughout his belly. She wanted to keep him calm although Vox was clearly angered, furious like the fires of hell.

The Grim Armorer

Toxic Fascination