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| Should we get attacked by page 5? |
| Yes. |
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[ 6 ] |
| No. |
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| Total Votes : 6 |
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 Posted: Mon May 17, 2010 8:21 pm
A strong and gusty wind blew across the harbor, a clear sun beginning to brim above the horizon. Above the sea, where they would head in just a couple short hours. The large port had been risen with the dawn, and the activity now crowded it with life. Morgan raises a hand to shield her eyes and look across the port. The Seraphim was impossible to miss. Its pure white hull shone more brightly than anything else, it'd make snow seem gray. Without a doubt her ship is her pride and joy. The captain of such a glorious ship is overseeing some cargo being taken to the port. Well, she's really just there to comfort her brother. Morwen has a habit of micromanaging things and his crates are to be treated with the upmost care. "Dearest brother, I'd love to stand around all morning and observe these fine men tending to your heavy crates, but I must be present for the new crew." she smiled gently at Morwen and briefly links their webbed finger together, giving his forehead a kiss. Which is common for her to do since they're loving siblings. Morgan pivots sharply on her heel and marches towards her beloved ship.
She hasn't always been captain. Oh gods no. To make a long story short though, she had certainly earned her way up the ranks. Her cascading ebony hair reaches down to nearly her ankles as she continues to blindly head for that ivory mass. Near the gangplank stands a deckhand she's known ever since she started and therefore trusts. A smile forms on her otherwise stern features. "Don't look so nervous, Gesten...a new crew is just what we've been needing." she pats the hertasi's smooth head, just to earn a hiss from the moody lizard, before quickly boarding her ship. And what a fine ship it is.
Standing on the highest deck she locks her arms behind her back to glance over the harbor, try to pick out which figures are boarding her ship and which are simply an eyesore. The female is wearing an expensive tailcoat. It's only expensive since the materials her brother got for it were at a high price. It has golden clasps with pearl buttons, deep pockets on the hips, sides and belly, a leather belt cinching around her waist, and it's made of a fine black material. Just beneath that a sky blue corset is worn over a white tunic. Down on her feet are her black boots, rising up to under her knees and with a bit of heel to them. Best of all is her captain's hat. It's perfectly shaped and large, the feathers used to decorate it are in fact feathers from her first hired Sentry, Luft. Morgan knows Luft won't be arriving down below, so now she raises her ephemeral gaze to the skies, watching and waiting for that damn bird to arrive.
"Of course Captain, I understand." the merman smiles to his sister slyly, squeezing her hand before letting her go. He next turns to observe a few burly men tipping one of the crates too far. Morwen rushes forth to try and help, although this makes one of the deckhands think that side will be fine with the lithe male in attendance. "W-wait, don't--!" his body is crushed by the bursting crate. Glass shrapnel explodes in a halo around the trio of the recently departed supply crate. The hybrid feels the glass surround him, none of it is able to slice him thankfully. He's wearing leather boots, blue leggings and a silver long sleeved tunic. When the crate fell it cracked open enough for some spice jars to shatter on the harbor. Morwen feels very sore but rolls on his side, sputtering peppers and spewing some foul words at the men.
"Moronic, careless, meatheads!" the cross Cook picks himself up and briskly brushes himself off. He's around six feet tall and with a slender build. The men could kill him, but that won't keep down his own natural temper. Nor the fact that he's the Captain's brother. The merman winces as he tries to take a step. "Ooooww...everything hurts...oh I think I'm bruising!" the male whimpers and seats himself on a crate to examine every limb. The deckhands look nervous. If Morwen so much as makes a puppy face at Morgan, she'll do anything to make him smile. Even if it means tossing them off the ship. Finding nothing wrong the Cook makes a shooing motion. The men relax and continue with their labor while the young mersiren looks to The Seraphim.
Late. You are late you stupid bird, they've most likely gone without you.
From the outskirts of the city, is a very large aviary. It does not house birds. This aviary was built centuries ago and is a home to gryphons of all sorts, who might find a job in the city, friends, or just use the aviary as a temporary home. For the gray female whom is currently soaring towards the local harbor, the aviary has been her vacation site until The Seraphim would next depart. Today, Luft is leaving behind her cozy nest shared by her ilk to return to the open seas. Now within sight of the harbor, Luft's dark brown eyes open a bit wider as her wings beat from lack of supporting wind and currents in the air. She can see her captain and friend is already aboard, Gesten just at the bottom as well. Luft is an aggressive fighter and doesn't like those who oppose the current ship she is aboard. She's unsure about gaining a new crew but hopes it'll be for the best.
Very near the ship now, the gray gryphon curls in her wings with short and measured flaps, flashes of dark brown crossing in front of her. She pushes out her clawed legs and neatly lands on deck. Previous lessons taught her how to land on a ship, mainly a painted one, without scratching it with her talons. Around her large neck is a deer skin pouch that can be closed by the string attached to it. Within this small bag is Luft's favorite toy and nothing more. Gryphons, most gryphons, don't have a need for possessions, or accessories. Keeping her feathers slightly puffed up against a chilly breeze, wings folded along her backside, Luft stands still and observes a few bumbling deckhands. She kept out of their way and was thankful not to have missed The Seraphim. The gryponh sentry is on a deck lower than her captain, opening and closing a wing in greeting. She stands in a stoic fashion with her chest against the railing. This gives the gryphon an excellent view of who she'll be sharing the ship with. She heard rumors of more sentries...cringing at the thought, she fluffs up her stormy feathers and just as quickly shakes them smooth.
The mare's hooves clip-clop on the sturdy harbor dock. She's easily the tallest around at the moment and her burgundy coat draws a few stares. It's also rare to find a centaur out in these parts. Dasross flicks her tail and gently whips the ends against her haunches, urging herself into a brisk trot. She can see the ship just ahead. This is her first expedition. Her first time away from the herding lands. Actually out into the world and making a name for herself. Well nearly. Dasross had been an apprentice for a good time so her trinkets and skills will hopefully reap their rewards on this cruise. The eager centaur slows once she comes to the gangplank, digging in a pouch attached to her belt for the invitation to board this dazzling ship. "Just a second, it's in here somewhere...ah." she produces the folded parchment to the hertasi. As the lizardman nods and checks her name off she charges aboard, snorting and stomping her hooves. The feral filly attempts to calm herself. With a sheepish look she takes the time to unload her belongings from her backside and proceed to explore the lower decks.
He can feel it. The excitement stirring up so many after a dormant stay in the harbor. This crew is ready to set sail with their new commands. Thankfully they've had the same fine lass as a captain for the past five years. Captain Morgan, a fine creature from the sea if he ever did see one. Morwen isn't half bad either although he's rather too friendly with the males in the crew. Gesten is as eager as anyone to set sail again. He loves this ship and the ocean. However, today, he's getting a bit more crabby than usual. The captain patting him didn't set him off at all, she could hit him with a hammer for all he cared. First off, Luft was late. He'll have to train that bird some more before she becomes lazy.
And next, oh next, was that damn filly. She was chomping at the bit, prancing to and fro, and gave him a wrinkled invitation. Gesten felt his beard puff out just like his animal cousin, the bearded dragon. Although their coloration isn't the same it's the species he most resembles. He had waved Dasross on by and narrowed his eyes haughtily up at a new sentry. "Brute. You could've easily stolen it." he snaps. At the response the lizard rolls his eyes, whipping the dragon's heels on the way up. "I hope the grypon pecks your eyes out." he may be small but he isn't afraid of anyone. Well except Morgan and for good reason.
[Just gave short intros for the NPCs so some of you can interpret how they behave for the most part.]
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Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 1:11 pm
With the dexterity of a spider monkey the dark-skinned half elf swung up the main mast. How the pole had been damaged so high up in the first place was beyond him. Sometimes he swore the captain purposely broke the ship in just to keep him busy. Gods forbid that he actually get some rest every now and then. But a job was a job, and he had his orders so here he was. Besides this probably was one of the only professions that allowed him to keep his three main passions- magic, drinking, and sleep- all while keeping him entertained the entire while.
Once the carpenter finally reached the damaged section he secured himself off with one of the ropes tied onto his belt. Creating a sort of swing, he balanced himself before further surveying the spot. A chunk of the wood had simply vanished. By the looks of the splinting, he would have to guess that something- or someone- had taken a bite out of it. It honestly would not surprise him. Well, nothing ever came of doing nothing. Removing the glove off of his right hand, he placed it on the mast. This sort of trick required physical contact. Pulling at the spirit of the wooden ship he resonated with the remaining life in it. Resurrecting the soul from a dead tree was much difficult than it would have been if it still had its roots tied to the earth, but that was what made him so damn good at what he did. The ship- as much as the captain would probably deny it- did have a reason for keeping his drunken lazy a** around. "Tanka harwar. Heal.” He ordered as his eyes lightened to a vibrant green. As this happened, the splinters began to quaver before they slowly began to lengthen, and finally reattaching. By the time Tres removed his hand, the mast looked as if nothing had happened to it in the first place. “By the Gods, I am a genius.” he chuckled as he began to undo the knotted rope holding him in place.
It was a shame that the half elf had been too busy gloating to himself to realize that with his right hand on the rope and the left one gripping his loose glove that he had nothing connecting him to the mast. As soon as the knot became loose, the pull of gravity dropped him. He was so surprised by this that he hardly had time to curse. It was fortunate that there was a part of him built with the instinct on what should be done to avoid a messy landing. Swinging his legs down he leveled his body into a standing position. His leather boots absorbed the impact as he landed straightly unto the deck. Brushing off his dark grey trousers he tried to determine if anyone had seen the slipup. If the cause for this action had not been a result of his own foolishness he probably would have bragged about the event to the first sailor he could find. As it was, the first person to catch his gaze happened to be the shecaptain herself. Perhaps boasting was not such a bad idea after all. Tossing a knotted ponytail of dark curled hair back, he went forward to greet the female. “How’d ya like that, Capt?” He asked with a happy grin as he slipped his worn glove back on. “If ya like I’ll do it again, for yeh. Might even throw in a couple o’ flips if ya ask me nice enough.”
Why he set himself up for constant disappointment was a mystery. Maybe he was just a masochist to the harsh lectures the captain gave him. She was attractive enough to have any pick of those on land or sea, but she was always such a shrew. It was a shame really. Was it this challenge that made him go over and beyond his ways to impress her? Tres would probably never know. In the mean time, he would just continue his ongoing quest to break through to the female. He had already put in this much effort. No point in giving up now.
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Posted: Thu May 20, 2010 7:26 pm
Some ways away from where The Seraphim was anchored, birds were fleeing the rooftops and rats scurrying towards the sewers. Grown men who could hold their liquour with anyone were stuffing fingers in their ears and walking just a bit faster. Doors and windows were firmly being closed for a solid block along one particular street.
In the center of that street, swinging a small sack from one hand and swinging her hips exuberantly with every step, a woman was caterwauling at the top of her lungs. Not that she would call it that; no, she was singing, which Captain Morgan would most assuredly not let her do onboard ship, so she indulged on land. The only problem? No other living being would categorize the noise coming from her throat as even marginally melodious.
"Ooooooooh a sailing wench am I,
And I cannae tell you why
The open sea seems to call to me
And without it I might die
So I willnae stay in port
Though my time here has been short
And I leave you here oh my darling dear
To tend the house and guard the fort!"
Her voice cracked on the last syllable, but she punched the air jubilantly and spun in a little circle anyhow, utterly uncaring. (Who could tell, anyhow? The entire ditty had been horribly off-key- and that was assuming there was a decent tune hiding under it at all. Come to think of it, that was unlikely.)
Yes, Gina Nyredes was thoroughly enjoying the end of her spell on land. Though she was literally a creature of the water, she liked wandering among the humans, and she particularly liked the trinkets they produced. Hence the sack, which contained her coin purse (somewhat the lighter for her expedition into the port town) and the few things she'd purchased. They were mostly of the sparkling or shiny persuasion; she was a veritable magpie. In fact, her jewelry was the only thing she owned, and one of very few things she spent her wages on. She had a little chest full of it in her cabin onboard ship.
Ah, the ship. Gina rounded a corner and there she was, elegant and cloud-white, bobbing at anchor out along the pier. As she approached, the water spirit could see figures bustling around it, busily loading the vessel with the supplies they'd need for their great voyage. At the foot of the gangplank, a shorter figure- Gesten, probably; on the plank itself there seemed to be some sort of commotion. Oh well. She hummed tunelessly to herself under her breath, unconcerned even when she saw a crate practically combust. She'd make it onboard one way or another. If nothing else, she could always divert some of her mass from the wide-legged trousers and boots she was currently 'wearing' and lengthen her arms to just swing aboard. It'd be no trouble. For that matter, a little rearranging of her outfit now could be nothing but fun. It took littlel concentration for her to shift her 'clothing' a bit, until what had been a fairly high-collared tunic became a form-fitting vest, and her pants tucked in almost imperceptibly in strategic places. This reduction in clothing meant that her hair lengthened marginally, but no one was watching that. Oh, some folk on the street were staring, all right; who wouldn't, when a woman so pale as to be albino passed them by? Gina smirked and waved at one particularly blatant observer. She'd not taken the time this trip to break any hearts, but there would always be plenty of time for that. She was never sure what was more amusing to her: watching the mortals react to her flirting or watching them try to understand just what 'she' was.
She pondered these happy thoughts for a while, and they brought her to the pier to which The Seraphim was tied. Shading her eyes out of habit rather than necessity, she peered upwards; and there was the Captain, right where she was expected. As she watched, Tres dropped to the deck next to her, and a little more inspection confirmed the presence of Luft and a centaur. Morwen, of course, would be around... where the Captain was, so was her brother, in Gina's experience.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 6:29 pm
A sigh escapes her and in that breath, longing and anticipation. Morgan is inwardly jumping for joy at the chance to set sail again. Well for being paid to set sail off on some man's dream. If that emperor were so intent on finding more land for his people, why not do so himself? Oh right. It's because he's the emperor. No matter as her ship is far superior than some war vessel. And they'll be heading for the land of the elves. What exactly could they take from there? It all belongs to the elves, it's not up for grabs or anything. As Luft gives a wave, Morgan offers the same with her arm. Locking her arms behind her back she again examines her place of origin. Her eyes narrow at the waves as she attempts to fathom just what the emperor was planning. Either way, her own plans will be nourished firstly. As footsteps sound fast her mouth flashes a frown. Only for a moment. Morgan wasn't expecting company as was an order carefully given to her hertasi friend. Fishpaste, meeting with someone before they set sail won't kill her.
While it may not kill her to interact it'll certainly put a damper on her disciplined schedule. At the voice she glances toward the owner. Her body still favors facing the sea, craving the cold spray and the salty winds. Dark eyes turn from the salty sea to observe the male. The membranes of her finned ears tense slightly. This makes her ears fold inward while pulling them back against her scalp. Morgan has enough coin to find a new carpenter. However not one of Tres' prowess nor experience. Really a Hobson's choice when it all came down to it. She'd give anything for her shangri-la. Which manifests itself every minute Tres is out of her hair. Her thick braid remains silent behind her, shells clinging to a few locks. "Maybe if you try it with your hands tied behind your back. And land on your feet." she challenges the carpenter. Yet is it sincerity or jest? We may never know. Truly the carpenter makes Morgan's flesh vellicate. Most don't so much as gaze upon her visage let alone speak to her. Usually the captain's presence is overwhelming, daunting and overall frightening at most. It's a mystery why the carpenter continues to cathect the mersiren femme.
Of course it's no mystery to Morgan. At this point she simply doesn't care. This half-elf is a valued member of the crew, true, yet he's expendable. As they all are. Now her body turns to face him, corset bobbing and tailed coat lashing behind her sporadically. Heeled boots drum on the deck in that heart-stopping suspense as the creature stalks towards Tres. She stops an arm's length away and levels him with intense eyes. "Carpenter. While it's perfectly fine for you to horse around the ship with limpid waters, I better not catch you gamboling in a storm. Or if we're under attack. Not that it would surprise me.", she shrugs and tucks a loose ebony lock behind her finned audit before withdrawing one of her pistols. The muzzle is snugged against Tres' groin, "Just think what another crew or the rest of our crew would think. What sort of captain lets her men frolic about, drunk with merriment and useless? Certainly not the Captain Morgan. Or we could have a few less elven blooded pups running around." she uses a husky Voice to rope in his attention, demanding obedience from this relentless lout, "Have I made myself clear, Carpenter?" most everyone she addresses by rank. Those she tolerates by their surname and those who have the easy life will be called by their first names. Only three beings aboard the ship hear their first name find passage through those succulent lips. Morwen, Gesten and Luft.
Out of the corner of her single eye she makes note of their Healer. Morgan will summon for Gina later on.
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 7:28 pm
[I realize I've already described his current outfit in his short intro, but I've decided to change it to something more to his liking.]
It's most certainly fortunate Gina had kept her singing [could it even be called that?] out of earshot of the twins. Not only would Morgan have been right on top of the unfortunate water spirit but so would Morwen. Being part siren the two are very stern about singing. Well, just awful singing. It may have been harsh but the Captain had ruled out singing in her presence. She won't tolerate it. Morwen on the other hand is more open, but he'd be just as swift to punish any horrendous a voice. As such the cook stretches his legs out before him off the ground, arching his body and leaning back to get a satisfying stretch. His clothing drifts soothingly against his joints, mandals exposing his webbed feet and gastroch fins. A bright flash of ivory catches his eyes. Lo and behold, like a dream, Gina the healer appears. A white fantasy at times when his mind demands the imagination. Morwen has since long stopped the initial function of daydreaming and goes straight into the erotics. Well. With most of those he desires at least. Or rather the ones he desires to find happiness. By courting others he isn't truly intending to keep them. He intends for the one so obviously wanting them to step in and take the other away. The mersiren always puts up a good fight for bravado, even for a head chef.
With her eyes on the dove painted hull of the ship he rises from his seat, done nursing his exaggerated wounds. He had seen the transition of her wardrobe. How convenient! It'll never cease to fascinate him. And on the plus side anything she wears just looks lovely on her. Then again many look lovely to Morwen. He crosses his arms over his chest as he saunters over to the fem--well wait. Is Gina honestly a female? Water spirits...or any spirit...can erm...manipulate their forms at will. And don't have a set self in the first place. Do you? He inwardly questions the ship's healer. Oh Morwen can keep his mind going in circles. Either way it wouldn't bother him, he's just curious and wanting to know why all the time. The mersiren is still failrly young as is his sibling. They both need to learn much, but only Morwen is so bold as to form questions. Or interact heavily and on quite a personal level. It's never been a mystery how the two obtained their current ranks. "Don't stare too long hun, you might harm those lovely eyes of yours." he purrs as he siddles up to the healer. "I presume you're enjoying the view...alas. You may never see the best of views unless you look into a mirror, Gina." such a flatterer.
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Posted: Sun May 23, 2010 5:46 pm
And just as she'd predicted, there was Morwen, appearing like magic next to her. Gina smiled, though she didn't turn to him as he spoke. Mor was a sweet young man, and she enjoyed his company and his curiosity. One of the reasons she liked sailing on The Seraphim so much was because he and his sister, being sea creatures themselves, were people she felt a strange connection to; it was inexplicable, but it was there. Of course, most sea beings were intensely... well, 'tribal' was probably the right word. Spirits were the exception, for the simple reason that they didn't really care about any of that mortal nonsense. So naturally, Gina had no qualms about rewarding Morwen's compliments by turning and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. She couldn't blush- she wasn't too good with colors, and could barely manage to keep her eyes the shade of gold she wanted. This was the only way to show her appreciation for his... gallant words.
Granted, they were somewhat nonsensical, but she'd learned to put most of mortals' references to body parts down to idioms and pay attention only to the meaning underneath. In this case, that was Morwen's pride in the ship and some curiosity and concern about her, if she was reading it right.
"She's so pretty, though," the spirit commented, gesturing to the ship to make sure her meaning was clear. "Besides, I simply love how I match her hull. It's like it was fate." She had a passing interest in mortal superstitions, and enjoyed making references to them, particularly in swear words- it made everything more interesting when you ran the risk of angering someone around you for your 'blasphemy'.
"And you're well aware I spend plenty of time looking in a mirror already. I don't need the encouragement." It was true; she considered the perfection of her human form to be the ultimate goal, and when her services weren't required would spend hours staring into a hand-held mirror in her cabin, trying to get an even color in her cheeks or make strands of hair separate and move just so. It was an art that she had little doubt would take her many mortal lifetimes to master, but it amused her for the time being. And the thought of that mirror- bronze-gilt steel, flaking a little bit around some of the curlicues- reminded her of something else. "Oh! Mor, look what I found in town." She opened the sack she carried and rummaged around, looping her fingers through her finds and dragging them out in a tangled mess of jewelry. Tucking the sack under her arm she probed the pile until she found what she wanted, tugging at it persistently. Finally it came free, and she swung it in front of her mersiren companion: a braided chain, one strand of silver, one of bronze, and one of strong black thread with tiny chips of turquoise tied into it at intervals. "Isn't it gorgeous?"
((Small talk, ftw.))
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Posted: Tue May 25, 2010 2:57 pm
Even at the thought of her faux challenge, Tres was turning the gears in his head attempting to determine just what would be the best way to impress Morgan. He was spry enough to perform any such tricks without much difficulty. The real problem came in figuring out just how he should respond. Knowing the captain to be the woman that she was, it would be best just to take the comment and leave it at that. He could get back to work and pretend like it never happened. But the chance to advance was just too great for the carpenter to pass up. “Do yah want to tie me up? Because I am not too closed minded to such suggestions. Might be fun.” He smiled mischievously as he mockingly held his hands together behind his back readying himself for the restraint. It was a shame such thoughts were quickly cut short when the Captain gave him that signature look of displeasure- he knew this expression far too well. It spoke true to one thing: he was in trouble.
As she stepped forward to face him, Tres could not help but feel an overwhelming sense concern. Ah my lady approaches~ he thought attempting to shake the foreboding mood as he crossed his crossed his arms bracing himself for whatever sort of conversation lay ahead. It was always a surprise when it came to these sea folk. They were nothing like the graceful elves. The ways of the elf were set in stone. Thousands of years of history created the race to a hierarchal system that hardly ever strayed from tradition. They were like trees. Roots held them firm in place, so unlike the sea folk, who lived just like the water they thrived in. And of course, both of these were completely different from the ways of the humans. The race of the “true-mans” were more like rocks. Unintelligent, unmoving rocks. How dull. No. Sea creatures were truly unexpected beings. This baffling thrill drew him to want to know more. As much as Morg- Captain-Morgan might hate it, she was just too enticing for her own good. Just like a beautiful, deadly flower.
The sharp tongue-lashing was nothing new. Nor was the sudden presence of the pistol. She had shot Tres before. It had happened on multiple occasions in fact. But in all those cases Morgan had done well to avoid any sort of injury that would hamper his ability to work. Now with the gun placed in such a vital location, he felt the fear that one of these days he would finally earn himself an injury that he would not be able to walk off. He did not hide his hurt expression as he responded with a simple, “Yes, captain, you'rah as clear as the morning dew.”
How could she refer to him as just a normal elven drunkard? He did things that no other carpenter could or would ever be able to do for this vessel. It took time for Carpenters to grow accustomed to the item that they were designated to fix. In his case, Tres was, in a way, tied to the ship. He knew Old Sara- his pet name for The Seraphim. And she was such a temperamental little thing. She took after her captain in that aspect. Both were just so fickle. As the mage designated to fix the ship, he was able to deal with one of these two minxes. Could no one appreciate that? Sara had become his baby and he would never let anything happen to hurt her. The thought of him screwing around while something put the ship in danger was appalling. Knowing that the captain had thought of him in such a negative light should not be shocking, but having it revealed to him in such a sudden fashion was highly upsetting for the half-elf. He had been insulted and as such he took no measures in cover up his displeasure. Most likely, he would be moping for hours. If he got lucky, he might be able to drink away the pain. Of course, this would probably just serve to prove the captain's point to be true, but it was just what he did.
Oh Sara, why must your mommy always hurt me so? he sighed deeply wishing that for once the captain did not have to be this brutally cruel so early in the day.
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Posted: Wed May 26, 2010 7:35 am
His suggestion to being bound, secretly, earned him a few brownie points. She herself isn't shut off to whatever may happen behind closed doors. While Morgan isn't as openly flirtatious as her brother she is by far just as experimental. However. She is also incredibly selective about who next will be in her quarters. And it most certainly won't be this damned, incompetent Carpenter. Although right now she can see a flinching expression of his. Pride. She had struck his pride. While this only exudes her innate dominance over another being the queen knows that such abuse could easily spur Tres to leave. His skill is amazing, how he so quickly patches up her beloved ship. Morgan does enjoy being Captain and she greatly enjoys her ship. It's still the same ship she and her twin were hauled onto years ago, found by an old crew and soon taught the ways of the ship. With much encouragement from Morwen for Morgan to behave of course. Morgan has simply never played nicely with others. While some children were playing tag she'd be getting into their lunches or trying to rough a few kids up on the coral reef. That has led her to have few friends in the past as she does now, but it's peaceful and tactful. It roots out the weak.
And the mersiren has yet to determine if Tres would remain that strong. He's weak in the sense that he seeks booze for comfort but wise to roll over and simply say 'yes' to Morgan. Which is why she must break him gently as she does with the entire crew. It's for this reason that she puts away her pistol and briefly replaces it with a hand as the other roosts on his shoulder. She'll need to remind him why he stays aboard the ship aside from the pay and his fixation. "Good man. Now. We'll be leaving port within minutes. While that's happening I'll require you to patrol the ship and make sure she's absolutely ready for the voyage ahead." pulling away from the desperate half-elf the Captain walks away to stroll alongside the railing. She again spies Gina and now her twin down on the docks. Still. With a frown the female straightens her shoulders in a bristling manner, gills clapping, irked. "Healer, Chef! Board the ship or we'll leave your dead weight behind!" and she means it to. Just as she's not above shooting Tres in the foot or gazing his shoulder with a bullet, she'll gladly leave behind those careless enough to not heed time management skills. She's always admired an old saying she used to hear her mother chime. If you're on time you're late, but if you're early you're on time. She cannot fathom why these two haven't boarded the ship just yet. As such the rest of the crew is ready. Why aren't they?
Morgan was at least gracious enough to give the two a few spare seconds before the ramp was pulled up. Once The Seraphim slowly drifts from the dock the Captain inhales the salty spray of the waves. Going to the helm she strokes the wheel in greeting before steering it on the correct course. They aren't headed for this fantasy land of the emperor's. At least not yet. And just who could tell the Captain otherwise? The crew could care less as long as they're fed and paid.
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Posted: Wed May 26, 2010 8:32 am
The little peck on his cheek makes him croon and indeed blush. Morwen still holds innocence in the fact that he greatly reacts to kisses of any sort. They're just the most intimate thing for him. And who doesn't love a soft mouth contacting their body? His cheeks flush a light blue and only enhances his charm. At this point he deems it appropriate to drape his arms around the albino's waist. Then again he's very certain she's not actually an albino, it's simply the first thing that comes to mind when he sees her. Apart from snow queen or something. An odd purr is produced from his humming gills as he revels in her presence. Morwen always becomes overwhelmingly cuddly with...well, anyone. Granted they don't harm him but even then chances of him leaving said being alone are slim. "You do look lovely on the ship." he then chuckles at her reply about her time gazing into the mirror. He has the same hobby. Granted it's done at least once in the morning and then before he goes to bed. When Gina begins to reveal a treasure she found in the port he takes a step back, leaning forth and touching his long nails to his lips curiously. Morwen adores trinkets almost as much as he adores cooking. And handsome beings. As the finely crafted item is unveiled he inhales softly and reaches out to trace his fingertips along it.
"Exquisite, quite the find! Oh I do wish I could have done more shopping...Morgan has limited me since our last time in a town though." he winces at the memory. The head chef had purchased a bejeweled scepter and something akin to a crown during a festival. He paraded around in it and upon entering Morgan's cabin to show it all off, his scepter had knocked over a statuette from her desk. The wooden emblem of two eels entwined snapped in four places. Ever since then he's been limited to a few coins for jewelry. Now while Morwen can produce pearls seeing as his bloodline allows him to cry pearls, he still loves other things. Silver, gems, onyx...so many shiny things. "It'll look so sweet on you, I hope to see you wearing it soon. It could really use a graceful neck to hold it." he snaps to attention when his beloved sister barks at him. The chef smiles warily and waves at Morgan. "Coming!" nudging Gina he helps her put away the cluster before running up the shrinking ramp. The last time he was late they did leave without their skilled cook. It took the male two days to catch up to the ship via swimming. Even then when he climbed up to try and get over the railing, Morgan was there, repeatedly kicking him in the chest to knock him back down. A gentle reminder that he needs to be on time.
Morwen spies Tres and gently rolls his hips towards the Carpenter in greeting. He can't deduce why his sister isn't kinder to the strapping male. Tres is a hard worker and easy on the eyes. Morwen now turns to Gina and plucks at the opening of her satchel of goodies. "Can I look at the rest of mi'lday's lovely treasures?" he floats around her happily, chittering even and still purring. He knows the Captain will be too distracted to notice he's horsing around. That and he'd much rather spend some time with the Healer right now. Lunch won't be for another few hours and it's already planned out. He has nothing to do. "If you'd permit me, I'd be honored to make some pearl decor for you. Do you like necklaces or earrings better? Can you decide between them? I know I can't." he laughs and tosses his hair back over a broad shoulder. While it's long, reaching his lower back, it's dwarfed by the length of Morgan's ebony tresses which drape down to her ankles. A shame she keeps it all tied up in a braid but then again his estranged sister has always been practical and functional.
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Posted: Thu May 27, 2010 10:22 pm
A resounding “Hail!” filled the tavern followed by a succession of thuds as the glasses slammed on to the bar. The cluster of able-bodied men burst into laughter, clapping one or both of the two people they surrounded on the shoulder. One, a young man and fresh sailor took the praise with his head spinning and his lips peeling apart in a sloppy smile. He stood, spun around on his feet and time and a half, and faced his competitor in the drinking game he’d just accomplished. His hand shot out and a slur of words spilled over his gums. “Tolya I—I’d surfife.”
Finn gave him a proud smirk and took his hand in a firm handshake. “Jist barely bairn, jist barely.” Clapping him on the back and sending him sprawling over the bar, Finn grabbed her coat and slung it over her shoulders. “Ye troaps didne tak' mah things, reit?” she cried at the men around her, earning careless waves and grumbled “Nahs.” She laughed and nodded. “Well, it’s abit time tae shove aff.” She threw her satchel over her shoulder and tipped her hat, “Gents!”
Striding out of the tavern, she paused at the doorway and set her bag down, putting one boot on it and began patting herself down, checking each pocket of her massive captain’s coat. She had to be sure she had all of her navigating instruments on her: compass, astrolabe, quadrant, sextant, almanac, and hourglass. Strapped to her back was a cross staff, primarily used as a club than a navigation tool but useless nonetheless. All of her charts were in a chest at the bottom of her satchel, which she could feel when she kicked it.
“Arecht!” she cried, “Ah hink aam ready!”
Hoisting her military satchel back onto her shoulder, Finn started down the road toward the docks. She took in deep breaths as she moved to sober up and take in the scent of the sea. The feel and smell of salt in the air was one of her favorite things about working as a navigator. Well, that and the adventure and this latest one she’d been hired for sounded especially exciting. As the ship she was heading for, the famed Seraphim, came into sight Finn could feel the anticipation bubbling up inside of her. She hadn’t heard much about the crew that would be working with her on this fine vessel, but she wasn’t terribly worried about that bit. It was the captain she really had to work with and would need to generally get along around. She hadn’t heard anything terrible, only praise heaped onto praise for the owner and regulars on the stark white vessel.
Finn managed to stumble her way up the gangplank before the ship took to the air. Apparently, she was more tipsy than she’d thought because that inclined plane had thrown her balance and left her staring straight ahead at the horizon and resituating her body upright. Regaining her “sea legs,” Finn hauled her stuff up to the helm where the captain was already steering. Finn straightened her back and saluted. “Reportin’ fur duty, Mem! Whaur ur we headed?”
Translations || _______________________________________________________
"Just barely boy, just barely!"____"You guys didn't take any of my things, right?"____"Well, it's about time to shove off."
"All right, I think I'm ready!"____"Reporting for duty, ma'am! Where're we headed?"
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Posted: Fri May 28, 2010 11:54 am
The heavy grunts of hard working men mixed with the sound of sea birds overhead and the gentle push of water lapping against wood and peer creating a symphony of a sailor’s life. Above it all one could easily hear the shouts now and again from the Captain of this particular vessel, signaling each change of tempo from her crew. With emerald eyes closed to scene before her a single figure stood apart from the rest, leaning against a railing along the forecastle deck. Her tanned face was turned upwards towards the sky, soaking up the gentle rays of the sun and evidently ignoring any duty she might have held at that moment. For those few minutes she simply enjoyed the music that life created, letting the warmth of the sun lull her into a sort of trance. Only when she heard that final call from her Captain that they would be heading out did she at last lift her dark lids, painted as they usually were, to look forth on the only being she answered to on this ship. With a gentle grin sliding over plump, painted lips, she pushed off from her glorious perch and slowly moved down the deck.
She could still see men moving to and fro; ensuring their cargo was securely fastened. The muscles of young men rippled as she stared on in obvious enjoyment, her grin growing as she noticed many of them turning their heads to stare in her direction. While she wasn’t dressed too provocatively – a rare occurrence in itself – she still made sure to show off her curves, allowing her hips to sway in their naturally seductive rhythm as she went. Her tight black pants made the movement seem all that more enticing and impossible to ignore. The pants disappeared only where her boots lifted up to her knees, the black leather polished to perfection. Oddly enough she wore a rather subtle heel with these boots, no more than an inch and clearly something one would expect to see on a man, not a woman. However, despite her lustful nature, this woman was no fool. She would not go parading around the deck in some four-inch wonder heels just to catch the eyes of others. Setting aside the fact that she would have an earful – if she was lucky – from her Captain, there was the simple impracticality of it. One could not very well steady against the constant rocking on such fragile sticks.
Her upper body, slender and curved like the rest of her, was the more modest part of her at the time being. Well, modest as far as this woman went. She wore a simple white tunic, billowing sleeves hiding her long arms but leaving her delicate hands free for whatever task she might need to accomplish. The rather large shirt, which again looked as if it might have been meant for a man, was cinched to her stomach by a tight, forest green corset. This particular piece was what truly drew attention to her upper form. It wasn’t a full corset but rather stopped just below her bust, effectively pushing up her already ample bosom and forcing a small measure of cleavage to peek out from the open top of her shirt. The outfit was topped off with her wide brown belt, sporting her usual sword on her left hip and her pistol on her right. She looked both deadly and beautiful and she was quite clearly loving every minute of it.
As she at last stopped before her Captain, her emerald eyes having already done a sweep of the area to ensure that all was well and ready for their journey, a slight breeze caught her up, forcing her fiery orange locks to blow behind her gently. The sultry female looked up with seductive eyes to her beloved Captain and for a brief moment amusement flashed behind them. They had a rather odd relationship, these two, given what they were. It was becoming increasingly clear, however, that threaten her as the Captain might Carina, the daring First Mate, would love every bit of the torment. She was certainly a twisted female, to be sure, but then she would have to be to take up such a position with Morgan as her Captain. She spoke not a word as she stood there but instead cast her gaze away once more, before she caught the sharp end of Morgan’s tongue, and instead looked to their resident Healer and Cook. Continuing her sweeping gaze she caught sight of the Carpenter as well, though this was no surprise. She was sure to find both Morwen and Tres nearby Morgan for while one held close to relations the other held a deep obsession for the woman. On a whole it was a rather amusing and dramatic little family they had going on this ship and one that Carina would not have given up for an instant.
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Posted: Sat May 29, 2010 7:48 am
Gina was somewhat amused by her captain's threats. After all, it wasn't as if she couldn't catch up to the ship if she wished- it would be a pain to shift out of and back into her human shape, but she could do it. Still, she followed Morwen up the gangplank, barely hopping off of it and onto the deck before it was pulled up behind her. Really, Captain Morgan was rather too eager for this whole expedition; she could stand to be a bit more patient. Time was a mortal concept with which Gina had much trouble, particularly their sense of hurry. After all, why bother rushing from place to place? She, at least, had all the time in the world.
This was one of the reasons she liked Morwen. Though he was mortal, and he had duties to attend to, he was willing (or able; the difference didn't matter much to her) to take time and just chat- or in this case, ooh and aah very satisfactorily over the delights she was so satisfied with. The Captain was too busy or too proud to do so- Gina had never really been able to tell the difference- but her brother was a wonderful jewelry confidant. So with a grin, she opened the bag in response to his tugging, letting sunlight in to sparkle over a collection of semiprecious metals and stones. There were, if she remembered correctly (and it was possible she did not) five rings, three necklaces, six bracelets, and one anklet in there. Perhaps more; she wouldn't get a good look at it all until she spread it out over her bunk later and she rarely kept track of her finds when she hit the town. It was an infrequent occurence, and usually resulted in her wandering so widely it was a wonder she kept track of the way back to the docks.
She glanced away from her trove, though, when the man spoke again, and took a moment to consider his offer. "It's not a matter of which I like more; decent earrings are harder to find than necklaces, for some reason. Plus, I wouldn't want to make you cry too much, doll." She reached out and tugged at a lock of that black hair he was so proud of, rather playfully. Truth be told, though she would love some Morwen-created jewelry, she would never watch him create it. Seeing what should be natural water appear as a solid- and not even ice- gave her the willies. It was unnatural, it was.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 7:06 am
Frankly, the carpenter was relieved to not be met by the crack of the captain’s pistol going off. It seemed that his latest choice was a wise one. He was even happily met by the quick contact made by the sharp female. The small prize was treasured. Especially considering what the captain was capable of when upset. If he was not on such thin ice so early on the voyage, he might have even begged her for more. He would save that for later on. But he had a job to see to. Not many ever saw the half elf concentrated on anything that did not involve getting completely wasted, but when given the proper incentive he could completely devote himself to his tasks. Tres was prepared to do whatever it took to keep his baby safe. Nobody, besides Morgan, was ever allowed to blemish the perfection that was his Sara.
A light smile draw across his face as he responded, “There’s not a single flaw on this beauty that could ever get past these eyes.” He said pointing at his two mossy green pair in emphasis. “It’ll be swift sailing to wherever yer heart desires, Captain.” After that was said he gave a short nod to the female. She had already begun to tend to other matters meaning that he, too, was meant to get to work now. He began doing another sweep of the ship with his heavy boots clunking together as he examined every detail in on the deck.
Now that his eyes were not focused solely on his lovely captain, he was able to capture the sight of so much more. For instance, he was now aware of the sight of several men sweeping up the shattered glass that is sprayed across the deck. He was also keen on noticing the remaining crew gathering. Morwen and Gina were chatting away happily while young Finn stumbled around. Part of him wondered if it was really safe to face the captain when in such an inebriated state. Having faced Morgan while drunk many times before he was acutely aware of her dislike for such behavior. And if he ever forgot he simply needed to examine the circular scar on his left foot where she had shot him. Oh how that one had hurt. She even denied him a proper healing after that as to insure that the lesson would stick. Days after the injury had continued to hurt, but he was forced to keep up his duties. Which included repairing the hull while at sea. The saltwater waves, while tossing and turning him in every possible way, stung the wound. That was truly unpleasant.
Oh well. Finn, being a girl, would most likely be spared from the full fury of the captain. Turning, Tres finally spotted the sight of the first mate, who was possibly only woman who the elf considered almost as intimidating as Morgan. Of course, he was not trying to woo Carina as he was the other, but that did not mean that he could not attempt to socialize. Being friendly never hurt, did it? ”It’s a beautiful day for sailing, don’t yah think?” he asked her as gently and playfully as possible.
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Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 2:24 pm
Carina’s emerald orbs swept over the ship, turning the short distance and taking it all in before her sights landed on the man who seemed to be speaking with her. She studied him for a moment with her unwavering gaze, taking him in fully before she would answer. Along with the objective of getting an idea of what kind of shape he was in – which oddly enough seemed to be a sober one – she also enjoyed the silence she allowed to hang between them. Intimidation was simply one of the means she used to maintain her authority over the crew, save of course the Captain. Allowing her grin to shape swiftly into something far more sly and suspicious she turned her eyes away once more, eyeing the Captain rather thoughtfully. The result was that Carina seemed almost to be plotting something – though it would be odd not to find her doing as much – and caused her to look almost a tad crazed.
“How is she?” She asked rather cryptically. It seemed a simple enough question on its own but of course it was anything but. What she intended and what would likely be assumed were two very different matters. Given that she was staring rather steadily at Morgan it would seem as if Carina wished to know the state of her beloved Captain. It seemed especially likely given that the half elf had just encountered the woman in very close quarters, likely testing her temper as he usually seemed to, and thus would know first hand what sort of mood the woman was in. Carina was instead referring to the ship, which would be bearing them along this seemingly foolish mission. Only after asking this question did Carina at last turn her gaze back to Tres, smiling sweetly once more.
With a simple glance towards the skies, as if to check that the weather had not yet changed, Carina offered the man a nod in agreement to his statement. “I should dare say it will be fairly fine sailing, though one should never rely on sight alone. These seas are known to be rather like a woman.” Here she winked at the man suggestively, obviously admitting the fault in all women regardless of race. “She is as likely to change in the span of a breath as she is to stay to one course of action. She’s a moody beast and I wouldn’t have her any other way.” Another grin flickered across those plump lips as, once more, Carina allowed her gaze to wander back to Morgan. It was sometimes amazing how subtle the small jests could be but it was obvious that laced behind rather true words were hidden subliminal messages; jokes that would likely have landed her an earful if the Captain realized what Carina was really saying. Then again, few would likely deny the resemblance between sea and Captain. It seemed natural to Carina, given the Captain’s heritage. She found it just as natural in her own.
}~{ Bleh...these will get better. }~{
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Posted: Fri Aug 06, 2010 10:31 am
[Posting for Morwen later tomorrow~the post is fine, Harl!]
Tres' parting words earned a rare smile from the otherwise stern Captain. Arching a nearly playful brow when the Carpenter points to his eyes the mersiren went on with her round. With her two inch heeled boots she's stable enough. They have a broad base which makes it all the more easier for her to balance. Having a set of wide hips doesn't hurt either. She's already gone and lectured every female on the ship that they're to have heels no greater than two inches. And she means it. Which is a small reason as to why she stares so luridly with her good eye at the First Mate. Discerning heel height to be clearly acceptable she enjoys the view. Carina is perhaps the only merfolk Morgan will tolerate aboard her ship. She watches those long legs carry the gorgeous creature across the deck. The Captain will often chide and harp at Carina. Yet she will also confide in her, reward her and spend her free time, or what little she gives herself at night, in the company of the merfolk. It's a love-hate relationship. Morgan, being part siren, wishes nothing more than to rake her claws across Carina's damn face. While another part of her wants her claws ripping off that corset nestling the First Mate's bosom. What can be said about the Captain? She knows what she wants and will take many measures to get the desired results.
And many times she finds herself using Carina or other crew members to illicit a reaction from Tres. Just last season she invited Carina to help her organize a few scrolls in her quarters and they wound up lounging on the furniture. Working up an appetite she ordered Morwen to make them a snack but insisted Tres deliver the food to see the two piled onto the armless sofa in Morgan's quarters. It's always a fine treat for her to do such things to anyone in the crew really, specifically to those who desire her so openly. Yet this also comes with a fault in all siren-blooded beings. A daunting occurrence of jealousy. Such as right that very moment when Morgan notices the fawning Carpenter chatting with her lusty First Mate. It's very obvious nothing intimate is being exchanged between the two. Just simple words. This, however, has never done anything to quell a siren's vanglorious state of mind. For Morgan has twisted thoughts of both of them. Her lips purse slightly, pouting in a subtle manner as they often do when the Captain is gauging something with uncertainy. And for them to begin to part off and get friendly at any time, she feels the need to step in. In fact she should probably get down there right now. Give Carina some benign task and shoo Tres on his way. Well she would if some bumbling drunk weren't buzzing around her. Wait. A drunk?
In the blink of an eye her luscious lips thin out into a fulsome frown. Alcohol upsets and even offends the Captain to no end. Aboard this ship are professionals with their own flaws. Carina is too gorgeous for her own good, Gesten too sharply tongued, Tres prone to drink, Morwen sometimes wears Morgan's clothes at the most inappropriate of times, Luft goes berserk if someone pulls her feathers...but they all know very clearly how to behave around Morgan. All but this sun kissed woman staggering to stand in front of her. She doesn't say anything for nearly two minutes. Just stares incredulously. Surely this...this can't be her Navigator. No. No, no, never. Morgan made it clear her expectations to Gesten whom was in charge of hiring a few crew members at the time. He'd never choose someone like this for Morgan's crew. As she continues her intense, single gaze, dread dawns on her. This is their Navigator. Looking at the garb it isn't difficult to tell. And here the Navigator stands, wobble-legged and slurring. Which doesn't accent her voice in the least and only further irks the mersiren. Withdrawing her pistol the seething Captain pins the redhead against the steering wheel with her hips, locking the wheel in place as the ship gently rocks with the waves.
Hips firmly in place her arms are free to do as they like. One such holds the pistol against the Navigator's hand as the other holds reign of the wheel. "Where are we headed? We, the noble crew, are on our course to do as this emperor has asked of the finest. You may not be coming with us. I will not have some jejune troglodyte slumming around my lovely vessel and crew. You'll taint them further and I've worked too hard to let their habits slip." her eye narrows as she flares her cervical gills, throat expanding from this to create a warbling hiss. It's not even midday and she finds herself getting a headache. Oh yes she'll be calling for Gina soon. Not just for herself, oh no, Morgan is far too gracious. She'll have Gina use a salve on this would-be-Navigator's impending future bullet wound to the hand. If to keep the wound from bleeding on her white decks than nothing else. Leaning against the drunk girl she shows her teeth which take the shape of a shark's teeth. "Now what do you propose I do? I can't let you navigate us anywhere and I can't let you off my ship." choose your words wisely, Finn. Very wisely.
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