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[[Sorry guys, the art community had me in a deathlock ;_;]]

"Please, ma'am...", Moé said.

"My name is Polly," Polly said, not turning around from her lookout. "Polly Didelphi!"

The redhead was being held on what seemed to be a rotissimat inside the shack, and Sherry was turnign the lever without expressed interest.

"I don't know what you want with me..."

"We want your gold," Sherry said, "and your flesh!"

"My what?!"

Polly sauntered over to Moé, pinching one of her cheeks.
"Your flesh, we want to savor you..."

"We'll eat you right up!", Sherry chimed in.

"R-Rapists!", Moé squealed.

"Eh," Polly said. "close enough."

"What's gonna happen to us, Chief?", Sherry asked. "I mean-- the skinny girl, with the robotic arm--"

"Yeh?"

"...what if she comes from an airship?"

"Well," Polly said, kicking a walll of the shack to reveal a large panel of buttons and knobs. "We take care of 'em, like those other hospitality ships!"

"Pirates!", Moé said, and Sherry took some rope and an apple and gagged her.

"Shut up, for Bast's sake," Sherry said. "We won't be able to concentrate on fattening you up if we have to listen to your racket!"

~*~

Alexander said nothing, and followed them to the ship, hoping Alice would explain his presence there.

Sherry turned down the heat on Moé.
"I think she'd be about right for carving or cooking at this temperature. What method of cooking?"

"Fried and battered in alcohol!", Polly said. "I've taught you how to cook---...."

There was silence.
"..what's wrong, Chief?", Sherry responded.

"It's that ship, the Freeglory."

"You don't think--"

"I'm positive."

Polly turned around to Sherry.
"Now those people on board havve twice as much reason to dislike us..."

"I thought she was a town citizen," Sherry said. "Missus P, let's get outta here!"

"Nah," Polly said, and, knocking back the wall-panel, kicked down on the floor of the shack, revealing a chute.

Polly and Sherry went down to a larger ocntrol panel, with buttons labeled such thigns as 'SW LG TURRET' and 'REFILL CANNONS'.

Polly brought down what seemed to be a sonar, which seemed from the outside as a rooster weathervane.

"Steady now..."

Rufus headed back into the ship. He came back out of the main hall to the deck. Both hands entered the duster, pulling out his large copper and silver handcannons. "Everyboda' is on board, Cornelius, let's go."
Cornelius played with the controlling some more, the ship lifted from it's slight hover and began to bolt up.
Caleb soon after came up. "What task do I have at hand currently?" He called out.
Alice turned an eye to him. "Caleb! You know those glass tipped rounds down in the armory?"
Caleb gave a slight nod. "I do."
"Start filling them with anything that will harm."
"Will do." Caleb disappeared from slight, going back down the stairs.
Searil placed his right hand on the main body of the turret. "Defigo electricitatis!" A white glow echoed from his hand, soaking into the turret, an unknown number of various symbols of sharp quick writing glowed and dissipated off of the gun.
Alice took hold of the pistol grip of the cannon, her left holding onto the supportive bar on the middle of the gun. "There it is..." She gestured the gun towards the island like ship.
Searil pulled back on the bolt of the cannon, Alice did the same.

Meanwhile, a child of sorts came to town; with a face of utmost innocence and a joyous spring in his step as he grinned widely while singing of full blooded murder with utmost glee “I’m home, Mine mother, I’m home with daddy’s heart in hand! Why do you cry, mine mother? Why weep in sorrow? I know it is bloody, damp and cold, but daddy, not an hour ago, said it only beats for you~~” he sang before letting it die down to a triumphant hum when a few onlookers turned disturbed and judgmental eyes towards him. Thus the child continued onwards, tilting his head to and fro, left and right, with his eyes nearly closed with self imposed delight; energetically, yet deliberately, marching through street and alley.

While in one alleyway, The child momentarily panged in pain. “Wheowtchies!” he yipped while momentarily freezing in place ‘and this is why I HATE cities~’ he commented to himself while taking a quick leap forwards ‘blessed earth everywhere!’ he finished while a second wave of unpleasantness over took his body as a vile mist in turn leapt off of it.

Growing bored of aimlessly wandering, the child turned his attention to his agenda of the day, of the year, of the decade, of the very century, undisclosed; ’Meaning they have nothing for me to do. Let’s see who is next on the…’ he thought to himself before a… mortar and pestle floe by? Now most would find this vexing, but being a spawn of hell Zerath thought ‘… … Who, in what demented hell, come up with that thing?!?’ with his jaw dropped in a perplexed manner, apparently it was just as asinine to hell spawns as it was to the everyday mortal. When it floe up to a floating inland with, Gigantic, pedaling drumsticks, Zerath, aside from being confused by the sight, sub concisely made a new mandate for his agenda: Lunch.

It was not because the drumsticks looked like food, but more of a sense, which one he did not know, then again, after the tenth it made more sense to call a devil intuition, something yummy was up there. This left the, slight, problem of getting unto said floating inland without parading the fact he was less holy then thou in front of an entire city. Learing upwards, a sinfully pleased grin wrapped itself about his face to a perfect fit; a red glint shown from the depths of his eyes as he coveted his unseen prize, whatever it was. It did not matter if it was some arcane tome, gems, jewels and gold; or some cliché virgin girl stuffed in a witch’s kettle to be eaten alive, though as an incarnation of bloodlust, however minor, the latter was preferable, and, given the circumstances, more likely. “Oh Damndest day!” came the exuberant chirp

OoC: Not to happy with this post, but meh, got to start somewhere. Also, if I’m treading upon any limits or boundaries, don’t hesitate to tell me. 3nodding

[[Sorry, sorry! I've just been horribly busy...]]

The blow hit Polly's ship-island in its underbelly, managing to rip off three of its smaller cannons.

"Damn it!" she screeched, and, pushing sherry out of the wway, unveiled the rest of the smaller cannons.
"Fire them, Sherry!"

"Will do!"

Though the aim was most likely wrong, Polly and Sherry unleashed a torrent of blows towards the Freeglory, though not enough to significantly harm it.

A huge hole was blasted through the ship's 'shack', enough to rip through the back.

"OY OY OY!", Polly wailed on a livespeaker connected to the outside of the ship. "You ain't harmin' US there, if anything, you're harming your little red-headed fatty McFatFat!" [[Polly is so mature.]]

Sherry unveiled a couple larger turrets on the side of the island.
"FIRE!"

Still recovering his breath, Zerath hared the scrambling of feet stop and then, to his surging, the roar of arms firing. Instinctively he flinched and thought ‘Crapity crap crap!’ just in time to hear the sound of distant impacts. ‘Theses morons almost gave me a heart attack! What is going…’ he thought beginning another monologue in his head when a second valley of shots came along “Craping cra~” he then reverberated in an outside voice when he noticed witch way this one was coming, Luckily whoever was firing them was not very keen on the finer pots of how to aim, much less hit a damned thing as maneuverable or large as a bloody airship, and missed spectrally as the farce of an air battle continued onwards. Then some nut yelled over one of those ‘voice amplifying screaming things’ about some red head.

As Zerath continued to recover from his short but vigorous flight, he realized something, boats never did seem to like him when they were held up by something as stoic as water; spinning around on a slanted one, that was increasingly unstable, steaming about at full speed and supported by something as flimsy as air, simply made him dizzy, and some numbskull tightening the spin caused him to lose the little sense of balance he once held. Prancing about in a most drunken manner Zerath proceeded to fall forwards and start somersaulting forwards, minus the graceful recovery. ‘This is NOT worth the virgin daughter born between a high priest and priestess!’ Zerath thought while still rolling forwards uncontrollably; Zerath could not help but think of excruciatingly painful ways to kill who ever the driver was with a Spork after he came to a pain filled stop. Zerath, again, forced himself up onto his own unsteady feet.

It was about this time, when he was just raising his golden blond head that someone had the nerve to as who he was! “Who am I?” Zerath started in a high strung murderous twerp “Bruised, aggravated, perturbed, irritated as the nine hells and dizzy to boot!” he snapped as he steadily raised his head and eyes to look upwards to Rufus. As the coils of his angelic cloak lifted themselves and begun to spread once more into wings “I’M about ready to do something regrettable! And Why? Because I have just been shot at, span and tossed around, and now threatened at thingy point because you half assed mortals decided to make what you are into an injury!” Zerath rambled onwards as his face became a knot of agitated twitches; he was positively ferrous and about as stable a stool that lost half its legs.

Zerath’s right wing reached out as if to point and its furthest feather was prodded so far into Rufus’s face that it nearly tickled Rufus’s nose while his own face ground into an increasingly daemonic expression, glints of a crimson bloodlust welled up in the depths of his pupils as his bared teeth turned into ever more aggressive fangs. The next words spoken by Zerath were of a most wicked nature, so foul was it, that it simply could not be fully heard by mundane ears. “Zin’Grak Tro~ Shewl Ch! Sli Zol~” he snarled as his apparent rage deepened while his mind finished releasing its frustration and instantly began racing, he was about to start to improvising to cover for his own ignorance and lack of patients. Forethought was something he never really seemed to truly grasp, to the point it was amazingly difficult to gauge how much is calculation on his part, and how much was just dumb luck.

With no small part of real panic, Zerath’s eyes narrowed and his mouth gaped open in awe struck and bleak realization, for him, it was because he called the man with Two pain casing thunder rods a name that there was literally no equivalent for, in any other language. Yet even while part of him seeped through, he again slipped behind his guise. His trembling eyes and head slowly turned to his out stretched wing, just as the pristine white feathers upon its leading edge simply fell off and faded away into the air, in their place were gray feathers of the lightest gray. Zerath’s eyes did not stay with the wing itself, but with the feathers that just ‘rejected him’ and let out a small, pathetic, gasp. His expression farther deteriorated into despair, as if he had just lost a limb and it was beig peraided infront of his face while his soul giggled ‘He hase not shot me yet?’ he thought gloatingly to himself ‘They are buying this old act?’ the snickering thought continued.

When the final feather faded to naught, Zerath again rezorted into a dialect never meant for human consumption, all though it was not one he was as flaunt in, not to say he was ill peppered to use it. “Elecway! Wer-“ he started before he again lost his poor footing; the later part was not an act, though it did save him from speaking more lines in angelic; it stung his ears when he said it… Zerath fell unto his arse with a light thud, and he swiftly started welling up some tears for added effect. “Loo-look at what y-you ma-made me S-sa-“ he started with a weak and trembling, nigh weeping, whine. It was as far as he could ever get to actually to lying, but he had long leant to play around this bit, besides, from what he knew angels also had to work around this handicap as well. Thus another pristine feather fell from his right wing, evening out with the number of pure white feathers lost on the left wing; both wings had then long since fell limp onto deck “W-what did I do!?” he yipped in despair looking at one wing and then the other while shivering; yet, his inner dialoged was still cackling at them ‘damn them!’ it continued giddily ‘they aresoo foolish, if either buy this act it will make them the thousandth one to buy it! Heh, he he. Devil’s bane I missed doing this…’ his thoughts continued without a ripple working its way to the surface.
Meanwhile he pulled a wing, his left, in front of himself and started counting gray feathers in an audible mumble ‘let me see, a hounded and six… a good number!’ he giggled to himself while his face betrayed only despair and panic.

OoC: I got bored ^^; also, you have full permission to shoot him if you like; it’s just a matter of if you want a devil spawn playing at being an angel or if you want a angry devil spawn and a blood stain corroding the floor razz