Role-Play Ether Sails

Discussion in 'Role-Playing' started by Isa, Dec 12, 2016.

  1. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Captain Mad hated days like this. Despite his ships special nature he'd been forced into combat against a larger ship and lost nearly half his crew, including his XO. Kettle Journeyman lay far below him somewhere on the surface now. His chief engineer had been severely wounded by shrapnel from a long gun shot that had blown open the port side of the Hunter leaving Coble with an arm that would be useless for months, most of his crew skilled enough to use etheric sails had been killed or gone overboard, and he'd lost more than half his cannon crews. The dive into the mist from the mesosphere to escape had fractured his core lift crystal and pulling out of it had destroyed a third of Hunter's trim crystals. It had drained most of the ship accounts from ten years of successful privatering to manage the repairs and pay out his standard set of death benefits to the twenty families of his lost crewmen. He'd even managed to add a bit to XO Journeyman's family although as his liaison to them the Spire's fleet had already done so. Now he just needed to find a crew.

    While easily recognizable to those who knew him by his moderate stature, heavy build, short cropped black hair and his yellow cat eyes Madison Lyon Byrne was not a notable figure in the spire and most of his ships new recruits came from the fleet. Few people were willing to work under a warrior born like him due to a belief his increased abilities inclined him to a hot head and taste for violence. Being dubbed Mad Lion by the fleet for his often risky maneuvers and a play on his name didn't help. and so he was left sitting near the top of Spire Albion in the Habble Morning marketplace watching as a group of recruits for both the fleet and civic guard did their morning run and praying the latest batch of prospective crewmembers would be better than the last and at least show up on time. He flexed one hand worn to tough leather by the constant sun and exposure to the ether currents that were an aeronauts home adjusted his hand checking the reassuring weight of the weapons crystal in his palm. Not for the first time he regretted that without a crew he couldn't get the Hunter back into the air where it belonged and get himself out of the claustrophobia inducing confines of the spires.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    Welcome to the world of Carna, The people dwell in massive spires that are round from top to bottom created by the mysterious builders from nearly indestructible spirestone. Each spire is separated into communities called habbles that occupy a single 20ft tall floor and are squares placed inside the ring of the spire with the necessary support systems- sewage, cistern's and ventilation placed in the open spaces around the edges. The surface of carna is covered in dense forest and mist filled with dangerous creatures and is often considered a hell for most people. The few souls brave enough to venture unto the surface do so only in short trips long enough to fell a few trees and collect the valuable ethersilk used to make ship sails and protective clothing.

    Technology is based around the use of valuable crystals grown in enormous vats left by the builders. while simple crystals like those used for illumination can be produced in a few years more complex ones like those used to power and raise airships can take centuries to mature into readiness, even the volatile crystals used for weapons that respond to the users mind take as little as a decade to produce. While infrequent war between the 7 spires is not uncommon and every spire maintains a standing fleet in addition to employing a number of personal vessels as privateers offering a bounty for each head on a ship they bring down.

    The crystals used to power things gain their fuel from the ether- mysterious currents that move around the world, while many ships use steam engines or the new corkscrew propellers to move all of them have a set of ether silk sails that allow them to catch the currents. Do the the ethers influence on the sky it's rare to find an aeronaut without his goggles as the ether can cause the eyes to play tricks it comes into contact with and makes any source of light seem far brighter. Similarly all forms of metal are covered in bronze due to the rapid corrosion the ether causes in harder metals such as iron and steel.

    Cat's are a common resident of nearly all habbles preferring to hide away from humans but occasionally making agreements with houses or shop keepers for food in exchange for keeping away unwanted pest. While capable of understanding human speech it is uncommon to find a person fluent in the cats language though some can understand it without being able to speak. Whatever the relationship with a cat though they are slow to give their loyalty and can be violently and viciously protective of their people- and who doesn't want a arrogant and violent 50lb friend?

    So there you have it folks- jump right in as you want or feel free to poke me here or elsewhere if you have questions.
     
  2. Paladin_girl

    Paladin_girl Between the Chapters of a Dream Staff Member

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    As dawn touched the world, so too did it touch the darkest tower in Carna. Orange lined the tops of the Prison Spire, kissing the hard, crackled stone surface like silk running across the finest silver. The sounds outside were dull, but the songs of daybirds drifted in and out of the room, drowning out the loving calls of nightingales.


    The prisoner within the cell had seen that Clementine glow and heard the birdsong with the same awe as the first time, however long ago that was. Perhaps it didn’t matter now.


    Captain Jaybyorn’s patience was running out.


    At some point, the prisoner remembered being dragged out of the cage, hands and ankles clustered together in metal clamps. Fingers were starting to go numb. Toes against smooth floors, wracked with debris and dust from hundreds of soled feet.


    Surrounded by guards, a table and chair greeted them in a room with a balcony. The scent of grass and cinnamon rolled through the air.


    Food, the prisoner thought.


    Before them, Captain Jaybyorn eyed the prisoner with a sharp frown, his dark eyes narrowed, his face a mixture of sorrow and anger.


    ‘Sit,’ he ordered.


    The guards sat the prisoner down. Their metal hands were cold against their shoulder.


    Metal. Hard. Different. Man-made.


    Fake.


    ‘For the last time… thief.’ Jaybyorn said, ‘I need answers.’


    Although it was high-afternoon, there was a chill roiling from somewhere. The prisoner realised that it was coming from a balcony. Their eyes travelled to it, staring longingly at the way the curtains danced in the wind’s unseen hands.


    Music, the prisoner thought.


    The hard thud on the table made them look back at Jaybyorn, but nothing else.


    ‘I need… more… than before,’ Jaybyorn said. ‘More than what you’ve been saying for the last decade. What you’ve been doing is wrong. Don’t you understand?’


    ‘Yes,’ said the prisoner, ‘wrong. I’m… sorry.’


    ‘How...’ the Captain ran a hand through his hair. It was starting to recede from his face. Time wrapped around him like a dying sun’s rays, burning at what it could. ‘How do we reverse this?’


    ‘I don’t know,’ said the prisoner, ‘I made a mistake. Didn’t realise-’


    ‘That’s not good enough. The Coven of Yosuf won’t accept that as an answer. You’ve become an abomination. A monster. The woman I knew would never do this to herself.’


    What is that? The prisoner thought.


    Something was placed on the table. For a moment it seemed too bright to look at. The prisoner flinched, eyes squinting. The chains around their limbs rattled, their form held in place by the metalmetalMetalMETAL guards.


    ‘Tell us, thief,’ Jaybyorn said, pointing to the bright, shiny object between them, ‘why was this so important to you?’


    The prisoner cracked their vision open to stare – and awe immediately washed across their features. They leaned out to look closer, only for the Captain to cover the object with a cloth. The prisoner emitted a soft whimper that sounded like pain, slinking back to rest into the chair.


    ‘So you recognise it. Thelm thought that you would. What is it?’


    The prisoner shook their head – or was it turned? A sharp ache was on their cheek. Something wet. Warm.


    The guard’s punch rattled the prisoner’s skull. His hand was raised for another, only to be caught by Jaybyorn.


    ‘You wonder why he smacks you, yes?’ the Captain said, ‘every time you come in here?’


    The prisoner stared at them in silence. For the first time, they wondered what they – he. She. looked like. She dropped her gaze to stare at … her… hands.


    ‘It’s because they want you to remember what you did. What you… became.


    Odd. They weren’t like that before.


    ‘Because you were never meant to exist.’


    The prisoner stared at the guards. Her smile cracked her lips. She reached out for the object under the cloth, barely hearing the shout from Jaybyorn.


    Then the world suddenly broke – and she was falling through the air.


    Ten Years Later…


    Dawn Titian ambled through Spire Albion with a yawn, gently pushing past crowds of people as they battled for the finest wares along the street. Steam spurted from tea shops and engine part warehouses alike. Often, it was difficult to tell whether one was sipping the finest Duke Darkthorne Blend or Cranklebjurne’s Fenn’thraw Oil.


    More to the point, it was probably best not to question it.


    As Dawn made her way towards her home, she shifted gently in her long overcoat, where patches of engine grease had rooted their way across an otherwise fine, grey fabric, resting flat against her loose clothing and comfortable under a nest of long, auburn curls, of which were hidden snugly under a large, black tricorn hat.


    Anything to hide her face.
     
  3. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Mad watched the recruits running laps around the Spirearch's residence and calmly reached for another meat bun from the stack next to him with a bored expression. Just as he was about to take a bite a black blur shot past and snatched it out of his hand before dropping to the bench beside him.

    "A fair morning to you as well Naet." He growled out in cat ignoring the glances of a few civilians. few people acknowledged cat's as intelligent and even fewer had spent the years necessary to learn their language. "Since you saw fit to steal my breakfast I'm guessing you found a new crewmember for me."

    "Early day to you as well Air-stalker. I simply could not allow a human to eat such a delicacy." Naet calmly sliced open the bun he'd stolen and began washing himself as it cooled. Mad knew better than to carry the conversation forward until the cat had felt he'd spent enough time ignoring him, the first to say anything more would be admitting they were impressed by the other and therefore held them in higher esteem. Neat had been around Madison since he'd been a fleet cadet and visited him each time he was in port after he left the fleet and became a privateer. Mad knew full well that even among those that spoke their language he was rare for being considered their equal and that hey named him Air-Stalker showed their respect.

    Mad woke as the great chimes of Habble Morning rang out for eleven in the morning and glanced to where he'd last seen Neat. As usual he'd dozed off with a full stomach and nothing of import to do.

    "Satisfied?"

    "Completly. Thank you Naet of the nine claws clan."

    "There is a strange little human in another hubble who rarely talks to others and hides her face but she moves acceptably and seems to want away."" Captain Madison nodded and scratched behind Naet's ear's affectionately before standing. If human, even a warrior-born like himself did anything considered acceptable to a cat it was a good sign and meant they would be competent at whatever profession they held.

    "Would you show me the way Naet?" He grimaced as the cat jumped to his shoulder and began giving him directions. Well a person who hid their face either had scars to hide or a desperate need to avoid the Civil guard. Either way it would be time better spent than watching recruits train. He tightened the strap that kept his hat in place and set off following Naet's direction. hopefully whoever he found at the end wouldn't be upset by a visit from an inquiring airship captain wearing black and a massive cat.
     
  4. Nevermore

    Nevermore Stately

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    "I know you said it was around here, but you didn't say where exactly, now did you?" A man said, seemingly to himself as he wondered close to where the recruits trained. There was a half-wall between himself and the field they used and he stood just beyond a small street market on the other side. He was oblivious to the official looking area as well as the privateer with the large cat on the other end of the field. "Okay, sorry. Which way?" He spoke again, responding to no one. By the time he came into view, Mad was already gone.

    "Fcht," he hissed in pain. "Why the hell did you scratch me!? Not paying attention? You know I'm not good with directions. I'm lost and confused easily. If you scratch me every time I zone out I won't have much face left. What's left of it is already pretty bad, please don't make it worse." He continued forward along the wall before giving up and turning to face away from it as he reached the end. It was attached to an official looking building that had a sign affixed to it labeling it as an office of the fleet. This may have been the spot Salafield was looking for, but he failed to notice it.

    The disgruntled man stood roughly six feet tall, though just a hair short of it. He had messy, light brown hair that would probably hang past his ears and eyes if the unruly stuff every decided to go flat, but he was a man that clearly cared not for barbers, nor even scissors. He obviously cut it himself, and he was obviously bad at it, but he couldn't care less about fixing it so it was always a mess. His eyes were the palest of blue, bordering gray, the shade of ice or frost. His otherwise handsome, if somewhat sharp and off-putting face was covered with numerous scars. He was a young man, maybe in his late 20s, but he bore the carved remains of wounds fiercer than most soldiers. How a man his age came to have suffered such injuries was a mystery to anyone except those that knew him. And anyone that recognized the telltale signature of beasts.

    The largest, and by far most prominent of his scars were the three jagged lines that ran down the center of his face. Something large had used its three-clawed paw or talons to carve a line from his forehead to his jawline over each eye, and his nose. He was lucky he wasn't blind. A groan escaped him as he threw his head back and slumped further against the wall. Salafield wasn't a patient man and he hated waiting. When he remembered he was still lost and hadn't even begun to wait he groaned again. He hated being lost more than waiting.

    "Henry," he growled as he tilted his head towards the large, bronze cat that sat on his left shoulder. "You said the fleet building was here, now where the hell is it?" Not only was Salafield not speaking the cat's language, but he wasn't even being respectful. It was odd to see a human treat a cat with such disrespect, especially if he had taken the time to learn the language. And Salafield did know it, but he found speaking it was a pain. Henry knew the human language just fine, and he knew the cat language surprisingly well for a disrespectful human, so they communicated in their own languages. Some purrs and meows were his only response before he slapped Salafield in the cheek again.

    "Damnit! What do you mean up? I think you drew blood that time." He turned and looked at the fleet sign and cursed. As he entered the office he felt something trickling down his cheek and Henry's purring chuckles.

    "You did draw blood, asshole."
     
  5. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    "Are you sure this is the right place Naet?" Madison continued to ignore the incriminating glances shot his way. A man sitting beside an unremarkable house dressed in a black version of a fleet uniform and occasionally growling, meowing, and hissing at the cat settled in his lap warranted more than a few odd looks.

    "I told you before Air-stalker that I got the information from the two moons clan. If they hadn't heard about the loss to your clan they wouldn't have shared any information even with me." Mad scratched behind Naet's ears absently while he waited for this mysterious woman to come back.

    "I'm well aware of the opinions you and Clan Chief Nune have about each other. I'm simply stating I could have spent my afternoon in better ways than sitting outside a hut in hopes someone comes by. I need new crewmen and to get back in the sky before my accounts run dry." Naet twitched his tail and sprang off his lap flicking his ears in annoyance.

    "Humans, your all so concerned with those funny little coins."
     
  6. Paladin_girl

    Paladin_girl Between the Chapters of a Dream Staff Member

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    Dawn meandered through the markets for more than an hour, indulging her senses on her surroundings, as if she fed on curiosity alone.


    On returning home, Dawn’s face was a mix of calmness and childlike smugness, her arms wrapped around a paper bag. The numerous lumps and odd shapes made it difficult to tell what was inside, but she was pleased with her findings.


    When she closed in on her home however, all emotion drained from her features. Like the bag, it was difficult to tell what lurked inside her thoughts, the shadow of a man and a cat lurking at her front door.


    She started chewing on her fingernails, nibbling across the top of her lip anxiously, huddling herself against the alley wall, covering herself with shadows, her eyes shifting quickly, as if skimming the pages of a book.


    Hands. Loud.


    She tilted her head one way, then another.


    No. Paws. They speak. Searching.


    She emerged from hiding, approaching the unusual pair with clear suspicion in her eyes, a cautious smile running along her mouth.
     
  7. Nevermore

    Nevermore Stately

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    An apprehensive clerk looked up upon hearing Salafield cursing. He eyed the scarred man cautiously. While he was a man of the fleet, he had never been more than a clerk and though they were common, scarred men with sharp faces scared him. He didn't like the look of this new arrival, even if he had enough wit to guess his purpose. Salafield immediately identified the distrust afforded him by the clerk, for he had enough wit to know when someone didn't like him. Henry lazily lapped at the blood on his cheek, causing his partner to flinch. "Fcht!" Salafield glared at the cat, but Henry just laughed more. Meanwhile, the clerk simply waited for the odd pair to approach him, idly shuffling about some papers on his desk.

    Seeing as how the clerk was unwilling to greet him, Salafield decided he would have to start the conversation himself. He was used to people being wary of him. His personality aside, the scars did little to help. The hunter knew he was doomed from the start and had stopped caring years ago. He marched up to the desk and leaned down against it so he was level with the clerk's own bowed head. The man was trying way too hard to seem busy and Salafield could see sweat on his brow. He bumped his fist on the desk once and earned himself a satisfying jump from the clerk.

    "I'm here about a posting I saw in town," he growled, deciding to mess with the clerk further. He was no conversationalist, but even he had better manners than what he currently exhibited. But, this man had decided immediately that he didn't like the hunter, and Salafield had decided immediately that he would pay for it. The clerk looked visibly troubled when he tried to meet Salafield's icy gaze. "A man of the fleet seems to have had a run of bad luck with his crew," he continued, the gravel in his voice increasing. "You're looking for crewmen, preferably experienced, preferably fleetmen. I ain't a man of the fleet, but I'm quite experienced. Take one look at this mug of mine," he gestured at his face, "and you can tell where I've been, yes? I doubt any man has seen the surface as much as me, nor killed as many beasts as me. I fly my own ship there and back, but she's in need of repair. That's why I'm here."

    The clerk stared silently at the man before him as numerous pieces of information were given freely. He didn't necessarily doubt Salafield, but bragging was not proof he enjoyed. When the potential recruit stopped talking, he had to keep his face even and disdain free. Partly because he was a professional, partly because he was afraid this man might kill him. He shuffled a few more papers, trying to seem more official, before pulling up a copy of the posting. "Ah," he said weakly, coughing to clear his tightened throat. "Yes, well. It's true, this posting is not limited to within the fleet. You see, this isn't exactly official because this rarely happens. It has been commissioned by the captain personally, with permission. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for Captain Madison to return."

    Salafield's glare intensified and even Henry had decided to join in the fun, looking down right menacing with a fierce grin planted firmly between his whiskers. The clerk took a step back. He just now noticed the curved blade at the man's hip. "And when is she due back?" He asked, catching the man's glance at his sword and resting his palm on the hilt for added affect.

    The clerk almost corrected him immediately but thought that two could play this game. Trying to keep the tremble out of his voice as best he could he returned, "She is due back shortly, I believe. You are welcome to wait here. We have some coffee, if you like. The other recruits are outside in the field and of course you are welcome to wait with them instead."

    Salafield waited, staring silently at the man. Waiting. Waiting. The clerk flinched. Satisfied, he turned from the desk and moved to a plush chair that was set aside for waiting.

    "Coffee," he growled. "Lotsa sugar, lotsa cream."
     
  8. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Naet's ear's perked and swiveled a moment before Mad's own ears caught the sound of determined steps that stood out from the crowd of trudging people. He looked at the woman and instantly understood what Naet had meant about her moving acceptably. No wasted movement, and a determination that kept others from blocking her path.

    He stood and straightened his clothes before giving a polite bow. He noticed a few stains of grease on her shirt and raised an eyebrow, An engineer? This is fortunate.

    "Pardon my timing Madam but I was told their was an engineer here that might be in need of a ship. " He didn't bother to admit that he'd only just realized she was an engineer, or that he needed one because the last would be practically worthless until his arm had healed fully. "I can promise exceptional wages, the ability to run your machine room as you choose so long as it's combat ready, and regular trips back to Spire Albion if your interested. Would you mind inviting me inside so we can discuss my offer a bit more?"
     
  9. Paladin_girl

    Paladin_girl Between the Chapters of a Dream Staff Member

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    Dawn’s smile dwindled to uncertainty as the man spoke, his bow making her head tilt with curiosity. She hugged her bag, as if he were intending to steal it. For a moment, it appeared as if she didn’t understand him.


    Her eyes travelled to the cat beside him and the warmth in her expression returned like hot water across ice. She gazed back at the man and shook her head.


    Bowing. Words.


    Respect. Cut like a knife. But not flesh.


    Butter. Soft.


    ‘Where are we going?’


    Her voice was quiet, but far from soft. Magma waiting to emerge from rock. It lurked in the depths of her tone, neither cold or deterring. It was straight to the point.
     
  10. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Mad paused his yellow slit eyes creasing at the corners as he considered the question.

    "The SAS Hunter is a privateer ship madame, we travel mainly along the merchant currents, with the occasional diversions for races when the crew feels the prize is worth it. As for where to go- Currently I'm docked in the number three cradle up in Habble Morning. While not a glamourous life as I said the pay is good, and the Spirearch and assembly have been known to sign the occasional blanket pardon for us when other spires raise issue with our work." He eye'd the woman trying to gauge her as a possible crew member, most people squirmed under the steady gaze of a warrior born but a good aeronaut would brush it off.
     
  11. Paladin_girl

    Paladin_girl Between the Chapters of a Dream Staff Member

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    Dawn smiled as he spoke and nodded softly, but occasionally glanced at the door to her home. She glanced back at the captain once he’d finished explaining himself and shook her head.


    ‘Going inside the house is wrong,’ she said, ‘but your … Spear-Arch. We go there and talk. We can give your engine a new air to breathe, if the price is right.’
     
  12. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    He glaced at Naet trying to phrase his request in cat.
    "Would you conve to my clan chief that I need an audience with him?" He canted his head slightly to show respect and then continued in common. "I'll buy you yoru favorite meat buns if you do."

    "Shall we head there? I need to make a short stop along the way so Naet should be able to give them ample time to expect us." He started to turn and the stopped. "Rust but my manners are slipping." He pulled off his cap and gave a short bow. "I'm Madison Byrne I captain the Hunter."
     
  13. Paladin_girl

    Paladin_girl Between the Chapters of a Dream Staff Member

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    Dawn smiled as the man bowed, her face a mixture between amusement and warmth. Putting her hands behind her back, she inclined her head, chuckling softly, almost childlike in her manner.

    ‘I know. It was just fun to hear you.’ She rested a hand lightly on her chest, indicating herself. ‘Dawn Titian. I will help you, Mad.’
     
  14. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Mad put his cap back on ignoring the strap that secured it when he was sailing and turned to lead the woman through the transport spiral exchanging only a brief wave with the guards as men of the spirearch guard as they kept an eye on the wagon loads of supplies. He wasn't sure what to think of her, she was certainly a bit odd, he still hadn't gotten her name or a clear view of her face, though he supposed neither mattered much is she showed half the confidence as an engineer as Naet thought. Still even as a disgraced former Fleet officer he wasn't used to people deriving amusement at his expense. The last few years people had either assumed they didn't know everything and pretended they'd only just heard of him or assumed they did know everything and avoided him out of fear.

    He paused outside the gaudy doors of Fleet HQ and glanced back to see if she'd followed.
    "I need to see if there's been any responses to my posting for crewmen. I'll understand if you'd prefer to wait out here most avoid Fleet offices unless they have business with them."
     
  15. Paladin_girl

    Paladin_girl Between the Chapters of a Dream Staff Member

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    Dawn kept her eyes to Mad's feet, eyeing the pace carefully and trying to follow suit. She avoided the gaze of the guards, only giving a slight side-view to acknowledge them and nothing more.

    Amongst those in the Black Market, Captain Mad had a reputation - one sodden in disgrace, fear and disgust, but like some strange Pandora's Box, there was some admiration mixed in as well. For every mention of his faults, there was a mention of finer qualities. It was like unravelling a secret - and Dawn was quite fond of verbal ribbons.

    Arriving at their destination, Dawn stood straight and smiled at Mad, tilting her head.

    'I would like to follow. I often stray away.'
     
  16. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    "Suit yourself, can't say I didn't warn you.." Mad pushed through the door intentionally adjusting his walk to mock the confident swagger of a fleet captain. As soon as he saw the clerk on duty he grinned.

    "If it isn't little Taggy! I see you've managed to annoy Esterbrook again. Tell me has your brother stepped on any cat's lately?" His tone was utterly sincere and friendly despite the mockery. the clerks pen snapped as he looked up.

    "Watch your tone pirate you you know full well he hasn't walked since you assaulted him." The man's face was already severe on the best days but now it looked like he'd been sucking lemon juice straight from the vattery.

    "Privateer, not pirate. I even have the commission written in the spirearch own hand to prove it if you need to see it again. And honestly when will your house get over that? It was a fair duel observed by two admirals. Now pleasantries aside Admiral Rook insisted I have my signs direct interested parties here anyone come in looking for me?" the clerk glanced to the side and Mad followed his gaze to a very worn looking man and a cat perched on his shoulder.

    "Just get that man and his filthy beast out of here." Mad glanced at the cat and took a slow blink to acknowledge him before looking at the man.

    "Your looking for work on my ship?"
     
  17. Nevermore

    Nevermore Stately

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    Salafield looked up from his coffee cup with a distracted expression on his face. He was still trying to decide whether or not the clerk had spit in his coffee. If looks could kill, the feral scowl that Henry shot at the clerk was murder. A series of hisses slithered past his whiskers and Salafield grinned. "And I thought I had no respect," he said as he stood and rested his palm on the hilt of his curved sword. The clerk flinched visibly. Henry licked one his paws with a satisfied smugness that came naturally to his kind. "Though, to be fair you could present yourself better. Fcht!" Salafield cursed as the cat scratched him on his other cheek. He grumbled and wiped at the blood absently, "Bastard."

    It was at this point that Salafield realized someone else had entered the building and even spoke to him directly. He glanced at the heavier man with a puzzled expression while Henry gave the cat on his shoulder a lazy glance. "Who are you?" He asked before looking past him at Dawn. "You Madison?" He asked her.
     
  18. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Mad looked at the man and then glanced at the cat beside him and shook his head before shifting his speech to cat.

    "Is your human always this incompetent? Or is today a special occasion for him?" Mad ignored the scowls of James Tagwynn, after all it wasn't his fault his looks could sour milk. Ir rumor was to be belived the youngest son of House Tagwynn had been born complaining and looking like he'd eaten a raw lemon.
     
  19. Nevermore

    Nevermore Stately

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    Henry's whiskers rose as a feral grin showed his fangs. "Incompetent?" Salafield growled. "Who the hell do you think you are? I was told the ship I'm looking for is captained by some woman named Madison." He gestured at the clerk, "he said she'd be back soon." The clerk tried to look busy by shuffling some more papers. The scarred man looked back at the clerk, who was currently refusing to look up. He looked back at Madison then back at the clerk again.

    "Oy," his voice was sharp enough to make the clerk jump. "You knew Madison was a guy, didn't you?" Before the clerk could respond with his fumbling attempt at a lie Salafield had already turned back to Mad. "What the hell kind of man is named Madison, anyways?"

    Henry yawned and stretched before eyeing Mad with a single, yellow orb, choosing to keep his other eye closed as if to signal something. "He's never been very good with people," the cat purred. "His strong suit is monsters. If you can forgive his manners, you'll find no one better at killing beasts than this man."
     
  20. Isa

    Isa Dovie'andi se tovya sagai

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    Madison grinned, It had been years since he met another human that could speak cat and kept the conversation to the less common language. "He's a son of a high house, I find most of them are worthless. As for what kind of man would have a name like mine- if it's to much trouble call me Air-stalker like the Nine claws cat clan does." He glanced to the woman behind him and nodded before he continued in the trade tongue.

    "Not much call for fighting surface beast on a privateer. I'm looking for new cannon crews mostly. If you aren't good with a cannon I also need long gunners and a few men competent with a parasail for boarding. If you don't know the rest of the crew will teach you. I run my ship tight and we have two gods onboard- me and my chief engineer, If one of us gives you an order you do it. The hunter is my home, and her crew is my family do anything to threaten either and I will personally send you to the surface without a parasail. If you can live with that then your welcome aboard. I divide out three quarters of each bounty among the crew and myself, the rest goes to the ship fund for repairs and death benefits to be paid to the people of your choosing should it be needed." He held out his hand raising it slightly for the taller man to reach.

    "You'll have to decide quick I'm afraid. The Spirearch is expecting me."
     
    Last edited: Apr 18, 2017