Sagacious Novelty
(?)Community Member
- Report Post
- Posted: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 06:59:55 +0000
Artist Page ~ I do not own these pics. Aenaluck does.
Stout was grinning. And perhaps that was something best kept to himself. But this woman...this whore of the man he called son, was much more than he thought. He had been a fool to doubt Alaric. He knew his strength, and his vision. He certainly wouldn't have allowed a female to stay on this ship if she were not worth the trouble. And now, his eyes were opened. The first mate had thought to cry out when it seemed the crew was about to turn on him, however now he saw that their was no need. Alaric had chosen his voice; someone of his own nature who did not stand for betrayal. Stout had heard her story. He had been watching her and the captain for a time. He knew that she had suffered at the hand of her lover, and lost her son. But despite being rough around edges Alaric had his charms. Once those around him fell for them, there was no turning back. It seemed that this woman wasn't far from finding exactly where her loyalties would lie-- maybe for the rest of her life.
The gun shot had been a surprise. One that pleased Stout greatly as Estelle made it clear that the ramp was to come down immediately for the sake of the captain's life. Jolly had taken the handles of the wheelbarrow from the two crewmen and rushed to get the man to Eager, but as first mate he thought it best to stay with the woman. Should Alaric make it out of this situation, he would want to see her alive and well. Stout feared that other's of the crew had also been thinking mutiny. Power was valuable among men who knew not how difficult it was to rule. Some thought the captain too kind, other's thought him too harsh. And some moved whatever way the wind blew them. Alaric would not be happy to hear how quickly some had turned on him. And Stout had decided it best not to tell him at all. But now that Estelle was speaking once again, waving a dangerous weapon around as if it were naught but a toy, he figured she would be the one to warn him of some of the crew's intentions. Albeit after the blatant display of gunfire and death, he doubted that anyone would try such things again-- at least for a while.
Eventually, she descended the stairs after the other's and went to sit by the captain's doors. Stout soon found his voice, clearing his throat to address the group. Most of the men were asleep, and the small handful that were awake were the night cleanup; meaning Trigger, and Lank would be appalled to hear about the situation that occurred in the morning. "The lot of you get off Alaric's ship."
"Sir, you can't possibly believe--"
"I do believe. You men have no allegiance to yer captain. Or you would have killed that man as his whore did."
The men exchanged glances, not sure what they should do. Stout was the only man left on the deck with them. He wasn't tall, or large. He was hardly a threat at all. And he could see that they were thinking about overthrowing them while they had the chance. Yet, Stout showed no signs of fear. His expression was unwavering and his hand was held out toward the wooden ramp that lead to the shore. "We will tell Alaric what we did when he wakes, and let him chose our punishment."
"So that you may have time to slit his throat whilst he lay sleeping?"
"You can lock us in the brig--"
"Speak for yerself mate! I'd rather die on my own accord." Three of the men started toward the ramp, thinking the captain merciless. But four stayed, standing firm with the one who had thought it best to allow Alaric to chose their fate.
Stout looked on at them, and they at him before he waved his hand at them to let the ramp up and set sail. With only four men on deck, he would have to do some of the work as well. However, he thought it for the best. If he didn't find something to occupy his mind, he would be concerned about Alaric until he woke, or joined the gods in the heavens. Nevertheless, if his assumptions about his son were right, then there was likely another father in the clouds looking out for the boy, whom Stout believed, would not allow him to die this way. If there was one thing the captain had always desired-- it was an honorable death. And this...this was not that.
The dead of night came swiftly, as those above settled into their positions, and those below waited to see if the captain made a recovery. The door to his cabin was shut and the hallway empty of all but Estelle, who waited outside the entrance for a verdict. But what she likely didn't expect to see was the small orb of light that descended the staircase and floated in her direction down the narrow corridor-- starting small, but growing bigger the closer it got to her form. And once this anomaly was before her, it flickered slightly and there was a spout of darkness before a silhouette appeared. The moonlight shown upon it with great favor making it hard to see, but with one step forward the presence became clear.
Ares body gave off an aura that was undeniable to any human. Who he was, and why he had come was fairly simple. He did not want Estelle to give up hope that she had done the right thing. He could not intervene to save his son; making him had been taboo enough. She had done well, and he wanted to offer this woman something she thought to be out of her reach, should she continue to show such bravery. She knew not the delicate balance that could be upset by the death of Alaric. But she would soon enough. "Estelle Fareye Whitlock. I am Ares, god of war." His wings fluttered behind him briefly as he drew a breath, his eyes glancing over his shoulder to be sure that no one was coming. He would make this conversation quick. "I have come to thank you for saving the life of my only son. He is arrogant and self centered, like his father, but he means well." He cleared his throat. "I have come to offer you your own son, should you continue to assist mine in making it to Rivdar as he desires. His birth was no mistake. And your involvement in his life has helped guide him more in three days, then I have been able to do in thirty three years." Ares smiled then, as he became a ball of light once more. "Farewell. 'Til we meet again." And with that, he vanished...
Unfortunately, despite the night that Estelle had, Alaric's had been much less eventful. So when he woke, he found himself in a frantic state of trying to catch up. Both Eager and Jolly had spent the night by his bed, their heads resting on either side of him before he shot up in a panic. The weakened state of his body was unknown until he had tried to propel himself toward the floor. "Wait, captain please!" Jolly screamed reaching for his arm, as the man cried out in pain and clasped his shoulder in disbelief. He glanced down at his chest, which had been wrapped again and again with bandages, and yet still blood oozed from his body and soaked the material like water might do a wash cloth. In addition, his bicep stung, and there was sticky tape holding a soggy tan piece of sheet in place over the wound.
Alaric remembered only bits and pieces of the night. But he knew no matter what he had suffered, he did not want to be in this humbling state upon his bed when there was more work to be done. The gods had spared his life, which only made him even more confident that saving the life of his mother was in their will. However, should his crew grow restless, he knew that mutiny would soon follow this escapade. "Jolly, I need to get up. My men need to see my face and know that I live."
Both high ranking mates exchanged glances as he groaned and clutched his chest before throwing his feet off the side of the bed and making a feeble attempt to stand. "Please! You barely made it off the island alive--"
"Estelle...where is she?"
"We don't know."
"Wrong answer." He snapped looking back at his bosun with reprimand in his eyes. "Knowing this lot, they probably hung her from sails."
"No, not after last night..."
Alaric was curious now, stopping in his tracks as he turned to look at his men. "Explain yourself..."
"The night crew...they wouldn't let us on the ship. They thought you were dead, and wanted to take it for themselves." Alaric clenched his jaw, trying not to lose his cool before Jolly finished with the story. "She took your pistol. And she... she killed a man."
Suddenly, the captain's mouth fell slightly ajar. He found himself in a state of bewilderment, as his eyebrows fell. "She killed one of the crew?"
"I would not have believed it, had I not seen it." Jolly looked afraid, as if he was expecting the man to set fire to his own ship. "Sir..."
Alaric honestly wasn't sure what to feel, but that didn't change what he indeed felt. "She is amazing...isn't she?"
"She shot you."
"And it was amazing..." He grinned.
The gun shot had been a surprise. One that pleased Stout greatly as Estelle made it clear that the ramp was to come down immediately for the sake of the captain's life. Jolly had taken the handles of the wheelbarrow from the two crewmen and rushed to get the man to Eager, but as first mate he thought it best to stay with the woman. Should Alaric make it out of this situation, he would want to see her alive and well. Stout feared that other's of the crew had also been thinking mutiny. Power was valuable among men who knew not how difficult it was to rule. Some thought the captain too kind, other's thought him too harsh. And some moved whatever way the wind blew them. Alaric would not be happy to hear how quickly some had turned on him. And Stout had decided it best not to tell him at all. But now that Estelle was speaking once again, waving a dangerous weapon around as if it were naught but a toy, he figured she would be the one to warn him of some of the crew's intentions. Albeit after the blatant display of gunfire and death, he doubted that anyone would try such things again-- at least for a while.
Eventually, she descended the stairs after the other's and went to sit by the captain's doors. Stout soon found his voice, clearing his throat to address the group. Most of the men were asleep, and the small handful that were awake were the night cleanup; meaning Trigger, and Lank would be appalled to hear about the situation that occurred in the morning. "The lot of you get off Alaric's ship."
"Sir, you can't possibly believe--"
"I do believe. You men have no allegiance to yer captain. Or you would have killed that man as his whore did."
The men exchanged glances, not sure what they should do. Stout was the only man left on the deck with them. He wasn't tall, or large. He was hardly a threat at all. And he could see that they were thinking about overthrowing them while they had the chance. Yet, Stout showed no signs of fear. His expression was unwavering and his hand was held out toward the wooden ramp that lead to the shore. "We will tell Alaric what we did when he wakes, and let him chose our punishment."
"So that you may have time to slit his throat whilst he lay sleeping?"
"You can lock us in the brig--"
"Speak for yerself mate! I'd rather die on my own accord." Three of the men started toward the ramp, thinking the captain merciless. But four stayed, standing firm with the one who had thought it best to allow Alaric to chose their fate.
Stout looked on at them, and they at him before he waved his hand at them to let the ramp up and set sail. With only four men on deck, he would have to do some of the work as well. However, he thought it for the best. If he didn't find something to occupy his mind, he would be concerned about Alaric until he woke, or joined the gods in the heavens. Nevertheless, if his assumptions about his son were right, then there was likely another father in the clouds looking out for the boy, whom Stout believed, would not allow him to die this way. If there was one thing the captain had always desired-- it was an honorable death. And this...this was not that.
The dead of night came swiftly, as those above settled into their positions, and those below waited to see if the captain made a recovery. The door to his cabin was shut and the hallway empty of all but Estelle, who waited outside the entrance for a verdict. But what she likely didn't expect to see was the small orb of light that descended the staircase and floated in her direction down the narrow corridor-- starting small, but growing bigger the closer it got to her form. And once this anomaly was before her, it flickered slightly and there was a spout of darkness before a silhouette appeared. The moonlight shown upon it with great favor making it hard to see, but with one step forward the presence became clear.
Ares body gave off an aura that was undeniable to any human. Who he was, and why he had come was fairly simple. He did not want Estelle to give up hope that she had done the right thing. He could not intervene to save his son; making him had been taboo enough. She had done well, and he wanted to offer this woman something she thought to be out of her reach, should she continue to show such bravery. She knew not the delicate balance that could be upset by the death of Alaric. But she would soon enough. "Estelle Fareye Whitlock. I am Ares, god of war." His wings fluttered behind him briefly as he drew a breath, his eyes glancing over his shoulder to be sure that no one was coming. He would make this conversation quick. "I have come to thank you for saving the life of my only son. He is arrogant and self centered, like his father, but he means well." He cleared his throat. "I have come to offer you your own son, should you continue to assist mine in making it to Rivdar as he desires. His birth was no mistake. And your involvement in his life has helped guide him more in three days, then I have been able to do in thirty three years." Ares smiled then, as he became a ball of light once more. "Farewell. 'Til we meet again." And with that, he vanished...
Unfortunately, despite the night that Estelle had, Alaric's had been much less eventful. So when he woke, he found himself in a frantic state of trying to catch up. Both Eager and Jolly had spent the night by his bed, their heads resting on either side of him before he shot up in a panic. The weakened state of his body was unknown until he had tried to propel himself toward the floor. "Wait, captain please!" Jolly screamed reaching for his arm, as the man cried out in pain and clasped his shoulder in disbelief. He glanced down at his chest, which had been wrapped again and again with bandages, and yet still blood oozed from his body and soaked the material like water might do a wash cloth. In addition, his bicep stung, and there was sticky tape holding a soggy tan piece of sheet in place over the wound.
Alaric remembered only bits and pieces of the night. But he knew no matter what he had suffered, he did not want to be in this humbling state upon his bed when there was more work to be done. The gods had spared his life, which only made him even more confident that saving the life of his mother was in their will. However, should his crew grow restless, he knew that mutiny would soon follow this escapade. "Jolly, I need to get up. My men need to see my face and know that I live."
Both high ranking mates exchanged glances as he groaned and clutched his chest before throwing his feet off the side of the bed and making a feeble attempt to stand. "Please! You barely made it off the island alive--"
"Estelle...where is she?"
"We don't know."
"Wrong answer." He snapped looking back at his bosun with reprimand in his eyes. "Knowing this lot, they probably hung her from sails."
"No, not after last night..."
Alaric was curious now, stopping in his tracks as he turned to look at his men. "Explain yourself..."
"The night crew...they wouldn't let us on the ship. They thought you were dead, and wanted to take it for themselves." Alaric clenched his jaw, trying not to lose his cool before Jolly finished with the story. "She took your pistol. And she... she killed a man."
Suddenly, the captain's mouth fell slightly ajar. He found himself in a state of bewilderment, as his eyebrows fell. "She killed one of the crew?"
"I would not have believed it, had I not seen it." Jolly looked afraid, as if he was expecting the man to set fire to his own ship. "Sir..."
Alaric honestly wasn't sure what to feel, but that didn't change what he indeed felt. "She is amazing...isn't she?"
"She shot you."
"And it was amazing..." He grinned.