Mal was a sight seldom seen by the crew of the Nox- an omen, of sorts, appearing only when something went wrong- when something needed fixing. That's how they viewed it, anyway. There was a time when they were a little more sociable, but that had long since passed. For now, most of their time was spent in their quarters, or hanging on the ropes outside to patch up scuffs in the hull. The ship was in one piece, they'd repeat to themselves. Those dolts haven't broken it yet.
From the heart of the ship, they stirred; awoken from their peaceful slumber by the force of the landing. Another one. Let's hope the damage is minor.
They shuffled through the lower decks, stopping to replace any items that may have fallen off, and to close any doors that had swung open in the impact. Their hinges all seemed fine, at least.
"You know, most vessels don't have to worry about doors flying off their hinges." They muttered to themselves, "So help me god if I have to start bolting shit down to the shelves..."
The smart move would be to stay put and cover the crew from above, but Caleb’s blood had begun to boil with the adrenaline rush of a battle, and despite being a smart guy, staying on the sidelines wasn’t quite as fun as being in the eye of the hurricane. He looked up to see Alys circling around him, and the girl’s words were the incentive he needed to make up his mind. He smirked, put the rifle behind his back and followed after her, diving behind enemy lines.
He’d made his position known, and some of the townsfolk and militia alike began to look around confused, with the terrifying sensation they were surrounded by pirates that could be coming from every direction. One person however - a young elf - didn’t notice him, but had his aim set on Alys’ back.
“Look out!” Caleb shouted, but the fairy didn’t seem to hear. Luckily the arrow missed the target, but found it’s way into Soren’s flesh at least 300 feet ahead of them. “Congrats on not dying. We just got here!” He laughed with a mocking tone.
She’d called his shot ‘decent’, hadn’t she? He spotted another target, a girl with pointy ears who looked too worried about Alys’ rage to see him coming. She stood right next to a streetlight, and with the intention to show off, Caleb aimed his pistol at the metal poll and pulled the trigger. By his calculations the bullet should bounce back into the girl’s throat.
***
Angry tears began to cloud Miriam’s sight as she punched, and punched and punched. Her tiny arms were growing tired, and she stopped when a kind female voice talked to her. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and met a pair of glasses staring down at her.
“... Trying to get you guys out of the way. So we don't have to actually be evil.” Miriam had stopped crying, but she still wasn’t sure. Was that lady telling the truth? She decided to believe her.
“Could you… Help grandpa?” She whined, reaching out for the woman’s hand.
***
There were more of them by the minute. The captain of the guard - Phineas was his name - Raised his hand, ordering his men to stop shooting.
“You’re wasting bullets! Aim at the pirates you morons! Where’s Ted?!” He looked back to find the dead man’s body on the ground. Reinforcements weren’t coming. “I have to do it all by myself…” He grunted, flying up and towards the manor, ready to shoot any pirate that came his way.
The wind whistled past Lucien as he plummeted to the earth, impacting the ground hard. His knees bent, rapier clanging against the cobbles with a faint ringing. He straightened, rolling his head from side to side as his neck cracked, a smile splitting his features, tongue sliding across his fangs, eagerly awaiting what was to come.
The leash was off, and the beast was hungry.
Lucien let out a cackle as he lunged into the fray, rapier flashing like liquid silver. His first strike lashed out at a guard, an upward slice that sprayed crimson across his chest. The iron scent smelled more sweetly than any nectar could. He swung out at another, his rapier sinking an inch into the woman’s thigh before sliding back out, another splash of crimson against the stones. Lucien danced around them, toying with his prey, a stab here, a slice there, rapier lashing out to meet any steel they sought to bring his way.
The dance ended, one with a blade through their chest, the other with half their throat clenched in Lucien’s free hand. He ate greedily, draining the fluid and spitting the remaining flesh out like a wad of used chewing gum. His eyes darted around, searching for the next to fall beneath him. He spotted the oaf, Soren, standing idly, Juniper crouched by him. He caught a glimpse of the figure beside them, seemingly being comforted by the sorcerer. A snarl marred Lucien’s features as he moved towards them, slipping between guards and townsfolk alike, his blade occasionally dragging along those who sought to hinder him. He remembered his orders, after all.
The distance was closed, enough for Lucien to hear her words, the comforting tone, the offending phrase. Weakness would not be tolerated, and if the quartermaster didn’t have the balls to remind them of that lesson, Lucien was more than happy to. His free hand fell to his waist, drawing his pistol. One shot was all that was needed, after all. The hammer was pulled back, the gun aimed, the trigger squeezed. The shot rang out, Lucien’s stride never faltering as the bullet rushed ahead and embedded itself in the back of the child’s head.
Lucien surged forward, his claws gripping what was left of her hair as he yanked the body out of Juniper’s grasp, burying his fangs in its neck and drinking deeply. It had been some time since he had tasted it, so sweet, so hot and fresh, untainted by the stress of life and substance. He tossed the corpse to the ground, drained, the child’s lifeblood dripping from his face as Lucien snarled at the two.
“Do your fucking jobs!" His voice was rich, angry, a growl rippling through his words. "We are pirates, they are prey! We are robbing and killing, not helping them. I’m sure the Captain would be delighted to remind you of that once this is over. If we can find spare room in the cages, that is.”
Last Edit: Feb 1, 2023 19:54:02 GMT by HighVoltage
A slash of a scimitar and a guardsman fell. He hadn't even had a chance to raise his own weapon - he'd been too busy staring at Sinéad's questionable attire, and she was more than willing to use that to her advantage. A single outward slash across the belly and she was stained crimson . All well and good - at this point, that was just accessorizing. She took a quick moment to check the rest of the field - a Captain's duty, and often downfall. Paying too much attention to the actions of others would get her killed, but paying not enough would get them all killed.
Soren and Juniper were by the collections pile, Soren being assailed by, of all things, a child. That should have ended very quickly, but Juniper knelt down and apparently was trying to soothe the brat. Sinead moved her arm, the wrist-mounted crossbow sighted on the child - but she didn't need to fire, Lucien got there first. Good, then, she could save her bolt for later.
"This isn't a creche! Remember what you're here for - and if you can't handle it, stay on the ship or stay behind. Anyone else that needs a reminder is spending the trip back getting some fresh air and thinking about it!" An admonishment, and a threat, all rolled into one. Sinéad didn't put her people in the crow cages without good reason, especially since about a quarter of the time they didn't make it to the next port. Sometimes people needed to toughen up, though, and the cages worked just as well for hardening hearts and minds as hardening bodies.
She gestured with her scimitar - forward, and moved alongside the fray. There was that old goblin man Soren had tossed, after all, and Sinéad didn't want the town wasting what resources she left them with on someone who would only be a burden. He was screaming when she found him, though she wasn't sure if it was about the pain he was in or the child's death. Sinéad gave him the pirate's mercy, a swift cut across the throat.
"Take the guards down - and anyone else who gets in the way!"
Another small yet sharp pain echoed up along the front of his shoulder. An arrow. Meatshield or not, a few of the arms fire found its way to him. That's what happened to a man of his size. He would need to invest in a proper shield or new armor one of these days. But his equipment had not failed him yet. It would not fail now. His shoulder rammed into another soldier before driving his blade downwards into him. A soft gurgle of blood followed and the brief raising of flailing limbs before they fell to the ground. Lifeless.
Soren barely registered the tiny hands beating against his leg and boot, not over the scream from the old man. His eyes flashed to the side before he looked down. The child. Same foolish child. She called him an evil man. Would evil have spared them of a worse fate?
"Juniper, drag them to the bushes and be done with it. The medicine men will take care of them."
Distractions would cost all their lives. The grandfather will live, and, if he did not, at least the girl would stay by his body and out of harm's way. Warrior first. Pirates second. And being a warrior was picking what battles to fight. However, the sound of nearby gunfire caught him off guard. That was too close to them, and the men with the rifles were not focused on them. Where did that come from?
Soren looked to see Juniper holding the hand of a dead child. Only for the body to be snatched away and drained of life by none other than Lucien. Soren simply narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the sight. They only remained stern as Lucien began his threats. Soren aptly ignored him by turning back to the battlefield and throwing the meatshield straight at the head of another guard.
The speed and impact of one body colliding another, colliding with the upper body, resulted in the deft snap of the neck. He barely even registered the captain's words. Only his eyes caught the glimpse of her blade across the neck of the old man. Soren simply sighed as his eyes glanced around the battle field.
Behind them. There. A moving target heading straight back to the fortress.
"Juniper. Lucien. One of them is heading back. Burn the wings and then get him to talk. He might know something."
Information helped, no matter how little. Besides, the opportunity to capture one of them was perfect here, considering the fairy was all alone. Juniper's flames would prove excellent in burning the wings. Then Lucien could do his work of retrieving information by means he best knew. If either of them bothered to listen to him. If not, well, it was no skin off of Soren's back.
He was simply clearing the path forward by killing more of these damned guards. After that, he would help the rest of the raiding party press forward. That was the plan at least.
Last Edit: Feb 1, 2023 21:28:53 GMT by Paperbag Fill
Juniper felt the round tear through the child by way of her sudden lurch forwards, and just barely managed to catch her now lifeless corpse as it fell towards her, blood spattering their robes and boots. She glared at the vampire, the all-too-important Lucien, as he appeared, tearing what was left of the poor girl from her hands to drain what little remnant of life was left in her. "Yes, we are pirates. Calling downtrodden individuals with hardly any money to their name 'prey' is hardly accurate though," they said, standing back to their full height, still several inches shorter than the vampire, her annoyance conveyed through tone and stance. They went to continue before they heard the captains shout from across the field of battle, shutting down the sorcerers argument before it could even be made.
With a sigh, they stepped past the vampire, eyes averting from the blood dripping down his face and the lifeless body of both child and grandfather. They could feel the heat rising, though instead of excitement, it was anger and indignation. They wouldn't be able to voice these complaints, not with the captain or her pet, at least, and spiting the captain would be a poor choice. The pet, however, was a different story. "If you're done acting like a beast, why don't you help getting to the robbing? Unless your still hungry, I assume there will be some blood left on the captains boots for you once we've left."
The changeling strode forwards, surveying the situation, still feeling that anger, now white hot. Letting it stew wouldn't be healthy, so instead, she raised her free hand in front of her, towards the skirmish ahead. It was only then that Soren's words found purchase in their mind, still roiling from the events that had just transpired. A single guardsman, a fairy, fluttering his wings, desperately trying to make this situation worse for everyone, not just the crew of the Nox or the guardsmen. They changed targets, pulling their hand back behind their head.
'She was just a kid, whole life ahead of her...'
The thought flashed, and her fury reached a fevered pitch. She wouldn't give Lucien the satisfaction of another meal today, not if she could help it. Fire sprung to life in her hand, raging and roaring. Juniper hurled the fireball forwards, aiming for the fleeing captain.
With a breath, Nessa vaulted over the side. There was a moment before momentum shifted, when the world hung in balance. She took in what she needed then, the distance to the ground, village homes, the high walls of the manor house, a tree that hadn’t been culled and bleeding chaos behind her. Things of use to the thief, and things of little importance in the present moment. Then, she fell.
Nessa hit the ground at a crouch. It might have dislocated her hip in another life, but that wasn’t the one she lived anymore. She was back on her feet with a bounce, and she pushed her body forward towards the manor’s defensive wall. The wind, rich and damp, carried with it the smells of the clamor, sweet iron and acrid gunpowder. She had worse mornings, she supposed.
Nessa did not look back to assess the pitch of the battle, if they were losing — perhaps when the Goddess returned — then what good would her blades provide, and if they were winning then Sinéad would give her an earful about wasting time. No, Nessa ran at a dead sprint, with that little hunch that civilians did when lead was in the air, towards a tree that had been allowed to grow near the wall. Would guards take notice of her approach? It was doubtful, the real threat was with the taxmen, still Nessa kept her gaze along the top of the wall for any eyes that might be watching.
She scarcely slowed as she reached the tree, and instead she jumped. She caught the trunk with the side of her boots, felt the impact in her joints, before she kicked off, fingers catching the curve of a branch that groaned as she pulled herself up.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
"Yes, sir!" One of the guards who'd been shooting at the ship said, looking for a pirate to take down and that's when he noticed a young woman slide off the ship down a rope and climb a tree. She hadn't done anything, unlike other pirates who'd been slaying his colleagues, but she was a pirate, and for that she had to die. He took aim and shot, hoping her lifeless body would drop like a ripe fruit.
***
Phineas looked back to make sure he wasn't being followed, his eyes widening at the sight of the giant fireball coming at him. He could feel the heat on his feet as he made haste, trying to fly up and escape his doomed future. It was no use. His wings lit up as soon as the fire reached him, and not long after his entire body was consumed by the flames.
It might not have been Juniper's intention, but the fireball kept it's route far beyond where the guard had been incinerated, landing and exploding on what was once the most popular tavern in town. The explosion sent a few guards flying, and was definitely big and loud enough to be seen from miles away.
***
"Milord! Pirates are attacking the town square!" The servant said, storming into the lord's office.
Charion Fen was a thin, grizzled man who should be in his fifties. He stared at the window, watching as the smoke merged with the clouds. It should start raining soon.
"Send the guard to deal with it." He answered. From his office he had a good view of the ship. The Hard Nox. He had heard of her, and what'd happened to the places she'd visited, but he didn't think his town would ever be a target. A cheap man, Lord Fen was. He'd been advised to improve his defenses but paid no attention to it, as better defences costed a higher price.
"The entire guard will see to it, milord-"
"No." He interjected. "Not the entire guard. Send half the men, tell them to bring the stockpile here. It must be a priority."
The man wanted to respond, but he knew it'd be useless. Many citizens had probably died already, and many more would die without the help of the family sworn to protect them. He nodded and left the office, ready to pass down the Lord's command.
The day had been overcast until now. Workmen and traders alike lined up to pay their dues as the clouds darkened. Indeed, the clouds have given way to storm; yet the rain was of men, with gunpowder its thunder. Draw a grip and spread evenly. Fates guide you. The craftsman's words rang as if they were still in the air. The yellowing cards in front of Fionn confronted him, each one an omen he could not ignore. The Sword, a sign of struggle. This much was plain to see, at least. The Root, upturned. Sudden, violent upheaval and change. His place of residence, perhaps? The craftsman had travelled till the day he put down his tools, and bid Fionn do the same. But no, it was too early to say, yet. Fionn's pale grey hand turned over another card to continue the reading. Harvest was drawn, prosperity and plenty. It confused him. Surely, it was meant to be upturned as well? The ship overhead spelled as much. Nay, one must have faith. The fourth and final card, the Gale. The sign of flight, travel and freedom.
All at once, it was clear. Struggle, upheaval, fortune, flight.
None had reached his "workshop" yet, which was merely a ramshackle assortment of tools spread across rented chambers. Fionn gathered the scattered tools and leftover lumber from his previous work, and laid them in a small tool-chest, as well as his cards. Throwing on a large rag as a cloak, he set off, carrying his tools and hopes in equal measure. He stuck to the few alleys and back ways he learned in his time here; it would not do to be caught and robbed on his way. As strange as it may seem to avoid your future compatriots, not one of them seemed to be of a mind to conscript new members among the fleeing populace. Before long, Fionn arrived close to the ship his fate lied aboard. It towered over him, his wings to fly free and take his fate. Fates be kind, a hull breach had opened in the landing, large enough for a man to fit through. Once Fionn lumbered in, he surveyed the breach itself. T'would be a sign of good faith to repair it, no? Laying down his chest of tools and material, he set to his work, his only hope that anyone who heard it would not misconstrue his intention.
The shot had a slight recoil, yet a successful mark. Blood splattered and the body dropped. Alys watched as the girl began to scream, terrified eyes flicking between her and the lifeless shell. Not a second later, another shot rang through the air, bursting through her throat, and turning that pained scream into a gurgle. She dropped, joining her partner on the slick cobblestones beside the looming streetlamp.
Alys whirled towards the source and suppressed an eye roll at the sight of an overly smug Quartermaster. He'd returned her own taunts, rubbing in the fact that she'd nearly replaced her pointed ear with a bloody hole. She lifted her chin slightly and took it; after all, if she couldn't take it, she shouldn't be dishing it out.
But not without an innocent flash of her middle finger. "What would I ever do without you?" Her sarcasm escaped through gritted teeth. "Can we take a raincheck on this pissing contest? We've got shit to do," She added, pointing her pistol at the collection pile and the temporary path towards it, created by none other than Soren and Juniper. The pistol returned to it's holster, but was swiftly replaced by her cutlass - for the anticipated, close-range combat. Besides, Caleb seemed more than happy to keep a watchful eye on her back.
She began to stride forward, following the path towards the pile of goodies. Bodies and blood decorated the street; bodies of all ages, sizes, and species. Her stomach tightened at the sight of Lucien looming over the tiny body of a little girl and what remained of her head. Fucking monster. She swallowed and kept moving, pushing that disgust away by slashing at an incoming guard.
"It's always a little rough in raids, isn't it? I remember for the first few times, I lost entire jars because I kept forgetting to lock them up."
From behind Mal, Emer was leaning against the hallway wall, door to her clinic hanging open. She still held the dagger, blade resting against her arm and halfway hidden by her sleeve, but in her other was a steaming porcelain mug.
Mal was - curious. An everstay on the ship, here from before Emer, here from before even the captain. They kept to themselves, and had their oddities - prone to odd hours of activity, rarely social, and vague in both origin and identity. Some form of composite being, in appearance, perhaps born of magic, perhaps of science. Emer never really considered it her place to press, and Mal gave few opportunities to talk regardless.
At present, they seemed to have been roused by the beginning of the raid, no doubt in a mission to undo whatever damage the fighting caused.
"Would you like some tea, dear?" She raised her cup. "No point in filling holes when the garden's still got badgers."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
She moved quickly, ignoring the twigs that tugged and pulled at her cloak and scratched at her face as she climbed. Being short and thin had its advantages at times, and letting her squirm through the thick old branches with relatively little hindrance was definitely among the number. Nessa clambered up onto a sturdy branch that pointed towards the wall, and crouched low as she assessed what was beyond. An attempt at martialing their forces for a counter attack, but did it have enough discipline not to break? Further in was a building that looked promising for her intentions, a little garden for fresh herbs to prosper.
Or maybe it was the kitchen.
With her destination decided, and a rough idea for how she would skirt around the guards in her mind, Nessa shifted her weight forward as she prepared to dash. Two steps and a jump should get her to the wall. Easy enough. She drew in a breath and — a ‘crack’ sent a shower of splinters and twigs from a nearby branch spraying over her. A round tumbled from where it had impacted, and she felt a sharp sting as it glanced off the back of her arm ripping through the fabric of her cloak. A coyning sweet smell prickled in her nostrils as she bared her teeth. What rotten scumfuck had—
Nessa lurched forward before a second shot was attempted, two steps across the branch that cracked at the sudden movement, then she leapt into the dead air between the tree and the wall.
Evani was beginning to realize that there were a lot of things that he had been told that weren't quite truthful. For example... everything.
They'd said that there was no need to worry. They'd said that training would take over and everything would be fine. They'd been wrong about all that - training hadn't had anything to do with all the screaming. He wasn't even sure if all of it was painful screaming or people just making noise, but he didn't really have time to ask and find out. The stockpile situation looked bad - he'd gotten an arrow shot off, but it hadn't even stopped anyone. There were hundreds of pirates swarming the area - well, probably not hundreds, but it felt like hundreds.
Nearby, other archers were starting to loose arrows, and he fumbled at his quiver. He'd always been good at getting the arrows to the nock, but it was a lot different when he was shooting at a squirrel or a rabbit. They weren't usually waving swords around, or screaming. Or... falling. There was a lot of blood, everywhere. His hands were trembling.
The guards were getting ready as well, but most of them had swords rather than bows. That would make sense if the fight were close, but not all the fights were close. Another scream nearby, familiar. Evani whirled, just in time to see Domani crumple. Training definitely did not take over - he turned, to run towards her.
There was a stinging pain between his shoulderblades, a bit like a bee. Annoying.
Well and good, they were back on track. More blood, more death. The Captain didn't mind it. She didn't know if she reveled in it, not the way Lucien did. Perhaps she did, but in a quieter way. Mostly it was a simple progression, a brutal task to be completed. Items on a checklist, as they fell beneath her blade. An upward slash of the cutlass that took a man's head almost off: one. A quick draw of a dagger from her boot, stabbed through a woman's eye and then pulled back, the bloody orb still impaled on the blade, dangling nerves. Sinéad flicked the blade once to rid herself of it, then dropped the knife back into her boot for later. Two.
An unexpected light ahead - the flare in Juniper's palm, growing in intensity before it was hurled off towards the fleeing defender. There was a moment of intense immolation, and then the fire spread, catching on to one of the buildings beyond.
"Knew you had it in you, lass! Might as well light a few more of those buildings, they know we're here. Set the fires left and right, let's force whoever's coming in through a corridor." There would be reinforcements from the manor sooner rather than later, but Sinéad had always expected they would arrive at some point. The important thing was to control where they were and when - and if setting half the town on fire meant that they didn't get surrounded, all the better.
Emer was... unobtrusive. That excused a lot of things, in Mal's eyes. Like her tendency to save limbs, rather than amputate- sure, she'd claim they were minor flesh wounds, no need to sever unless it becomes infected, but did the patient need to know that? Mal thought not. So, they decided to focus on the positive. She was similar to them, in her inclination towards peace and quiet, a far cry from these pirates they found themselves tied up with. Never mind her views on the human body- so different to Mal's it could start a war, if she wasn't so unobtrusive.
"I'd say." They responded, "Almost lost an eye, that first time- bloody thing rolled all the way down to the cannon stores. Took me an age to find it."
A sigh, drowned out by creaking boards and distant screams.
"Might as well take your offer. Seems about as quiet as it'll get."
They moved towards the clinic, but something made them stop. A sound- several sounds, in fact. Louder than the portside chaos, despite seeming a lot less frantic. Mal tensed up, gesturing vaguely in Emer's direction.
"Can- sorry, can you hear that?"
The answer would be obvious, unless she needed her ears replaced. Hand still raised in gesture, Mal turned away from the clinic and started down the hall, walking swiftly towards the source of the noise. Whether or not Emer followed was up to her discretion- Mal wasn't about to turn around and check. Not until they discovered the source. What, was it a rat, or something? An uninvited guest- one of the guards trying to ransack the ship whilst the crew were out on port? God above- did that Captain really leave Mal on guard dog duty? Again?
So, needless to say, they were in a pretty sour mood when they reached the outside of the ship.
"HEY-!"
Mal shouted, their volume matched only by the crack of splintering wood as they slammed their fist into the hull in a fit of rage.
"FUCKING- FUCKING GODDAMN VANDAL! GO ON, SCRAM! DON'T YOU HAVE A BATTLE TO DIE IN OR SOMETHING?"
They gestured wildly. Then, without warning, made a motion to grab at the intruder.
"Right, you're coming with me- EMER! I'M USING YOUR BONESAW!"