Life in the Sky IC

Quakernuts · Apr 8, 2019

OOC	Discord	Interest Check	Collab Pad

Quakernuts · Apr 8, 2019

Michael 'Mike' Canderbar

There was something comforting about the noise and presence of people, at least to Micheal. As he sat on a bench near the back of a warehouse, absentmindedly reading a paper about the political climate of the skies, he would peer up every so often to look out past the railing that lead into the massive continuation of the warehouse that made up the Freelancer HQ. Large enough to fit two airships inside, several dozen people moved, talked, chatted and yelled at each other. There was the constant din of metal on metal, wood being hammered and occasional swear. Two airships hovered inside the warehouse, which doubled as the Freelancer's personal dock. Smaller in size and varying quite differently from each other, the only thing they had in common was a lack of flying colors. Sailors and crew wandered their decks as their boats were refitted or touched up, shouting orders at mechanics and the cleaners who made up the warehouse's staff.

Michael scratched at his chin as he looked over to his side, a number of captains and mercenaries sitting in the same area as he was, waiting for their chance to talk to the Executive, the man at the top of this warehouse who handed out the contracts. Much like the two ships in dock, these men and women wore vastly different clothing, and acted as if they were from different parts of the world. In reality, they were. Russians, French, Brittish, Asian, Middle-Eastern, every race could be seen here to varying degrees and it was something of a culture shock to those uninitiated to ways of the Freelancer. Looking around further at the warehouse itself, it was understandable why it was the current HQ of the Freelancers. While it lacked the polish or overall 'fanciness' of a palace or castle, it was very utilitarian in design. Built to withstand punishment, metal girders and scaffolding littered the building, with catwalks and ladders leading to all different levels of the building. All of this was visible from the back of the building, two flights of stairs up and filled with all the offices and what could be called 'suits' for Freelancers occupying them.

Michael pulled out a stopwatch from his jacket pocket, flicking it open to peer at the time but only doing it out of a need to keep his hands busy. As he looked around at the other captains, he knew he wasn't alone. To be a Freelancer meant you had to have a desire or need to be busy and moving, not to mention some amount of combat capability and a knack for survival. They all busied themselves with whatever they could find, a couple looking his way with toothy smiles. It wasn't hard to figure out why some people labelled them as pirates. The door next to Michael opened up and yet another captain walked out, followed by a brute of a man who peered at the row of people lined up outside the door. "Next." He stated, making Mike peer around quickly to ensure he was the next one in line before standing up, placing his watch back in his pocket and the paper on the bench, and moving past the guard into the room.

As Mike moved to the center of the room, the guard closed the door and stood with his hands clasped in front of him beside it. A beefy man to be certain, with more than a hint of intelligence behind his eyes. An excellent man to make sure the Executive was protected. Inside, the office was relatively barebones, but not in a bad way. There was a standard wooden desk, a chair facing it and, of course, a man sitting behind it. It was filled with papers of varying sizes, a couple of black and white pictures, and enough writing utensils to start his own confectionary. Behind him was a massive blackboard, with what appeared to be contracts stuck to it and words written in chalk pointing to different things. The room was lacking windows, but good lighting kept the room from feeling enclosed. A rug lined most of the floor, but it was starting to show its age from the amount of dirty shoes walking over it. Bookshelves lined the right side, filled with everything from casual reading to nautical charts to history tomes.

The man behind the desk stared down at his work, his hand holding a ballpoint pen as he scribbled at some papers. His head was filled with thick grey hair, and rough wrinkles lined his skin. He wore what appeared to be some kind of worker overalls, and while he didn't fill them out as well as a deckhand would, they were not loose on his body. His hands showed calluses and a rough dulled tan that indicated the Executive used to be a man of physical labour. One of those hands motioned towards the chair as he refused to look up from his work for the moment. Michael took the cue, making his way towards the wooden chair and having a seat. A few moments later, the man dabbed at the paper slightly, held it up and examined his writing, before producing a stamp and pounding it with the effort of someone who had to do this kind of thing multiple times a day for years. He placed it into a bin on the side of his desk, before putting down the pen, clasping his hands and looking at Mike. A slight twitch of the lips was all the surprise the man gave at seeing Michael.

"I'll be honest Mr. Canderbar, it's a surprise to see you in my office after so long." The Executive stated. "How long's it been?"

"Roughly 2 years Mr. Rouge." Mike answered as politely as he could. He had known Mr. Rouge for years, his parents having interacted with the man plenty of times and him being the Executive of the Bolio office for longer than that. With the power to give and take contracts, he was the lifeline of the Freelancers in Bolio.

"Sounds about right...it was a shame about what happened." Rouge stated, giving his best sympathetic face to Mike, even though he knew the man was only doing that for his benefit. Mike knew that Rouge knew more than enough captains and crews who never came back, had mutinies, or otherwise died to any number of causes. Simply put, he had built up enough calluses towards those loses that he was immune to the suffering of the crews he put up for jobs. Not his fault, just the nature of his position. He couldn't allow himself to get emotionally invested.

"Yeah." Mike mirrored the same detached tone, doing his best to keep a level of professionalism on par with Rouge. If he could impress him, that meant better contracts. Better contracts, better pay, better gear and better life. "It was what it was, and nothing can change that now."

"I heard that a rival crew caused the mutiny, that true?"

"As far as I know." Mike answered, to which Rouge leaned forward a bit.

"Are you looking for them? To even the score?"

"No." Mike answered flatly, taking even Mr. Rouge back a bit. "I have a ship and crew. I need to stay focused on getting us flying and staying that way. Besides, my parents always taught me that revenge was a good way to get yourself killed."

"Smart folks." Rouge stated, sitting back in his chair. "So, whatcha looking for? Protection? Scavenging? Bounty?"

"Something relatively easy." Mike started. "It's a new crew, need to run them through the paces, make sure we can work together before the going gets tough." Rouge nodded, flipping through his papers of known work that had come in. Mike had thought about going around the Freelancer organization for work, but that was iffy. Here, they always had enough jobs to keep people going, so while they did take a cut there wasn't the chance they would go hungry.

"Still got yourself the Cou de Saint?" Rouge asked, placing a few papers aside as he stopped to read a couple.

"Yeah, inherited her. She's a good ship."

"Aye, but young. Have a few scavenging missions, but you lack the size needed to haul some of them… That being said…" Rouge grabbed a paper, making sure it was what he was looking for before sliding it over. "This is more of a recovery of small treasure items." Michael took the paper and looked it over. Apparently a Russian ship by the name of Сломанный нос, pronounced Slomannyy nos, or otherwise known as 'The Broken Nose' had crashed and lost all hands. A travelling merchant had noticed the ship on the island of Hangerade, but hadn't had the time to properly investigate it, rather notifying the port authority once they got to port. "The telegram for this one came in this morning, so the iron is still hot." Rouge continued. "Apparently when that ship went down, for whatever reason, they took with them some papers of worthwhile investment to a Scholar from Russia who apparently doesn't have the time to go get them himself." Rouge shrugged. "There also some jewelry that he would like to have back, but otherwise he said anything else you find is yours if you want it. We've already taken our cut for the Freelancers, so your ship's cut would be about 200 euros."

Mike looked at the paper and frowned. "So no one knows why the ship went down?"

"Not that we're aware of, no one reports getting a telegram from them before they went down, and apparently it's a miracle they didn't just fall into the fog." Rouge leaned forward. "Should be a nice and simple job for a brand new crew, you can focus on getting from point A to point B, and as far as I know there's no pirate activity in that region; north of the NEC." Michael gave a nod.

"So get there, get the papers and jewels, take whatever else we can get, and return here?" Rouge nodded.

"We'll make sure the items make it back to the contractor. Once the items have been placed in our hands, you'll be paid." Mike gave a nod once more, folding the paper and sliding it into his jacket pocket.

"Alright, sounds easy enough. We'll be back when the job is done." Mike said, earning a nod from Rouge.

"Of course, safe travels." He stated, his eyes already moving back towards the paperwork in front of him as Mike exited the room, the guard opening the door for him as he did so.

"Next."

Bolio was a beautiful place really, as it lacked much of the industrialization that was happening among the other nation's cities. The island itself was fairly large, with the city of Bolio covering much of its surface and housing a population in the tens of thousands. Bolio didn't associate itself to any nation, claiming the 'independent' tag for itself and the Freelancer organization ensuring that it stayed that way. The city was built with a more European architecture, which was to say it put more emphasis on style rather than utility, leading it to be rather pretty to look at if somewhat confusing to navigate. Built on an incline, as the island itself was more akin to one massive hill than a flat prairie, one was almost always walking up a flight of stairs or down, so if nothing else one would get their cardio in, unless you stayed near the docks. Naturally the Freelancer HQ was positioned on the edge of the island to allow the ships to fly into dock, but of course it wasn't the only docking position. Further around the island were dozens of ships hovering and moored to Bolio. In the sky were dozens more either leaving or waiting for port clearance. A man who sat in a small booth, constantly giving orders to coordinators and deckhands to keep the ships moving in and out of port. It was a miracle it worked as well as it did, all due to these amazing individuals who made order out of chaos.

The sun hung low in the sky as the afternoon haze of the wild blue started to settle on the island. Mike continued his walk back towards his ship, stretching his arms and legs as he did so. It felt good to move again, he had been locked in that warehouse waiting to talk with Mr. Rouge for a few hours. He hoped the crew hadn't gotten too bored and got themselves into trouble, even though he doubted it. They were all new to the Cou de Saint, and common sense would dictate that they would be smart about how they acted, at least in the beginning… Mike hoped. As Mike passed by the ships, he gave them all a once over, almost immediately able to tell their class and the crew occupation at a glance. Smugglers, bounty hunters, body guards, scavengers, each one had their tools and scars to show. When Mike came upon his, it wasn't as readily apparent. Refurbished and retooled, the Cou de Saint sat wistfully in dock, bobbing slightly with the wind as a couple of ropes, plus the will of Cou kept it moored to Bolio. She bore no scars of the mutiny that happened a couple years ago, or at least, scars that showed. Her kit was bog standard, with a few cannons and standard issue sails and netting. She looked brand new, which wasn't far from the mark.

Mike wandered over, running his hand along the hull as he reached a rope ladder and climbed himself aboard. He had given the crew the run to do whatever they wanted, within reason and with the stipulation that they get some of the essentials.

Miyamoto Suzuki, his first mate, was to procure provisions for the trips ahead. Food, water, anything they could get to feed themselves and stay hydrated out in the great blue.

Casey Arthern, the navigator, was to head to the Navigators office to update her maps, so she could calculate them as they were heading towards their objective. This would be essential to locate Hengerade in any amount of decent fashion.

Elisia Bellefonte, the pilot, was to get the skinny from the locals about any potential pirate activity they might have to look out for. Plus, if there any opportunities out there that the Freelancers weren't handing out, that would be a plus too. Mike wasn't expecting much in terms of either, but it never hurt to make sure. He also realized it was a bit ironic, asking his nearly mute pilot to gather gossip and information, but this way he could figure out exactly how badly that would impact her communication ability. He always had official channels if nothing worked out.

Adelaide Pretrov, the nurse, was to make sure their medical supplies were up to date and stocked. If they got injured out there, they had to make sure their only hope wasn't a mad dash to the nearest city.

Corbeau Molchalin, the marine, was to grab ammo for their guns, shells for the cannons, and enough maintenance equipment to keep them going for awhile.

Finally, Peter Wright, the mechanic. He was to go get any necessary tools he might need, along with some Ancil Amp Shots as a just in case provision.

All of this was paid for with funds Michael's father had put away for retirement...or whatever else the plan was. It was enough to get Mike and his crew started, plus a little extra to make sure they weren't in danger of bankruptcy immediately, but they would need to keep doing jobs to ensure they stayed that way. Aside from their tasks, which Mike had given them before heading to the warehouse himself, they were free to do as they wanted so long as they were back before sundown.

As he reached the top of the ladder and stepped upon the deck of the Cou de Saint, he could feel the presence of Cou herself...in a way. He wasn't a seeker, so seeing her projected form wasn't in the cards for him, but like a sixth sense he knew she was paying attention. "How you doing Cou? Hope you're feeling alright." Mike stated to the ship as he ran his hand along a railing. A couple of deckhands were scrubbing clean the wood beneath his feet and prepping the sails. Hired workers from the port that Mike paid extra for, might as well start off with a clean and ready ship. They would be gone by the time the ship left dock.

Cou herself wasn't a large ship, having only two levels; the deck and a singular interior deck that housed her core, a communal sleeping space, a small canteen for eating and cargo. She simply wasn't mature enough to stand an upgrade, which wasn't anything towards her personality. It simply meant she wasn't strong enough to hold up a larger ship. The deck itself held a total of 5 cannons, two on the port and starboard, and one at the nose. At the back of the ship was the captain's cabin, which wasn't overly large either, barely able to hold a desk and bed, and above that was the wheel and where the pilot would be spending the majority of her time.

Mike gave a slight sigh as he looked around with a strange contentment to his face. Sure, Cou wasn't a large or fancy ship, but she was his ship and considering he hadn't been flying in nearly two years, this was good enough for him. He planted himself on the railing, staring out at the sky with the various other ships floating around like bees to honey. He didn't have anything else to do while the crew was busy getting everything together, and this would probably be the most alone time he would have for a long time. So for now he was fine just enjoying the moment.

The moment was beautiful.

Rosé Moon · Apr 8, 2019

Elisia Corrino Bellefonte

Elley was not blind to the irony of her first task as a crew mate of the Cou de Sainte. Gather information and rumors from locals? If nothing else, the humour of it had given her a good first impression of the captain. This, Michael. Fortunately for her... this had been her first job. The Bellefonte house hadn't sent her and her siblings out as children to execute grand heists, or, collect debts. No. They had collected information at first, so she was confident. Although, it probably wasn't the way Captain Mike had expected her to go about it.

Bollio proved... more difficult to navigate than she would have guessed, but she did find a way to find her way into a bar. The hub of the most scummy information. Also, sort of a nightmare. The internal hustle and bustle of sound and conversation within the bar irritated Elisia, but she wasn't about to let that get in her way. Ignoring the ambient speak, she took another approach. Common thieves cant.

She stretched back on her stool, and kicked her feet up onto the surface of the bar. This rewarded her with an ugly glance from the man behind the bar, but the symbol she made with her left hand kept him silent. The girl with the scar on her lip and chin didn't make eye contact with the bar keep while she flashed him the signal of the Bellefonte house. Though not as infamous as the Corrino... it kept him from hastling her, and then she dropped the symbol down by the stool, and there it remained, but not for long. From across the bar, a man seemed to notice the symbol she'd made and found his way to his feet, nonchalantly, and made his way to the bar. The man was not of an unfamilar make to Elisia; the sides of his head were shaved down, the right side of his face sketched with scars, and the scowling grin he met her gaze with was par for the course but their eye contact was brief, and he signaled the bar keep for a shot. He took the glass with his right hand, and Elisia shifted her drink into her left.

To the untrained it would seem the man and woman were sitting in silence, occasionally taking a drink or glancing at the others glass. However, this was a conversation. He worked for another gang outside of the Corrino's, that operated out of Bollio; asked her why the Bellefonte were poking about their town. She lied, and told him she was looking for some Pirates that had gotten to brazen with ships they shouldn't be. She was here to learn who was around, and if more of her family would need to come to town.

The man stopped for a moment, and somehow the silence between them got stronger.

"You've never been in Bollio, have ye', Bellefonte girl?" The man inquired, out loud. Elisia didn't respond -- who'd have guessed. "Let me give you the run down of how business is conducted her before you get yourself..." he paused and turned towards her bodily. Elisia's eyes followed him in response. "--you don't operate like that in Bollio. You think some law enforcement will drop on ya? Nah! Freelancers told the one with the biggest resemblance of a head will get the most coin will come down like the might of a fallin', fuckin island!"

That made sense, but the man's sudden use of words made her uncomfortable. He wasn't afraid of being heard, and a lack of fear was dangerous. Finally she spoke, and the voice that escaped her lips was not what the man expected. It was a scratchy, low voice. It was a feminine voice, but it sound like a bear trying to sound cute. She couldn't let him think she was afraid of him though. She wouldn't make it back to the Cou.

"So, your minimalized to less noticeable moves. Quaint, but smart. Smuggling, traffic, black trading..."

Her move was to psych him out by ignoring him, physically. She looked down at the car in thought. Would Mike already know of this? Maybe. It would mean any pirates nearby wouldn't be going for the throat. If nothing else, it was new to her. And good enough, as well.

"It was a good drink... it will leave Father Hector a peace of mind--" her throat began to feel cut, and she resisted the urge to fruitlessly clear her throat, "--you won't see anymore Bellefonte poking around Bollio." With that she turned, dismounted her stool, and headed towards the exit of the bar on a calm stride. Although, she was anything but calm. Blood was pulling in the head beneath her short brown hair, and she could feel adrenaline trying to make her hands shake. If he turned on her, she would shoot him. Quick and easy, and try and fade without notice and just get back to the Cou de Sainte.

It didn't come to that. He might have tried to stab her with his eyes, but he made no move against her as the girl moved outside.

---

It was later than Elisia had thought it would be. The sun was lower, and with that her time was less. It was time to return, whether Mike knew about the underbelly going ons of Bollio or not. She reached to the hem of her fur-lined aviator jacket and pulled it closer to the bandages around her neck. Time to get back to safety.

When Elisia found her way back to the Cou de Sainte, it was a much deeper shade of sunset, and at a cursory glance, Elisia saw neither hide or tail of her crew and as she moved onto the ship, eyed the wheel. Her wheel. Well, Mike's, but for all intents and purposes; hers. A wide stride, quick turn, and she her hand were upon it, feeling it and becoming accustom to it. Her eyes moved forward and her scared lip pulled up into a high grin.

She looked very happy with her current position.

happymech99 · Apr 8, 2019

The city of Bolio, truly a sight that no matter how long you lived here or even if you were new to it, it never ceased to amaze people on how beautiful the scenery is. There is always people wandering the streets whether it be families, simple folk heading to work or even the freelancers who were easily able to be spotted throughout the crowd by some of which still wearing their gear, which consisted with either weaponry or other essentials. One person in particular that was easily making himself known among the people not because of anything he did or how he looked but the fact that he had been pulling a large wooden platform truck behind him. Miyamoto had luckily been able to ask some of the workers by the dock if he could borrow the truck for a little while just so that he could carry some supplies before returning it.

The task that he had been given by his new fond Captain had been quite interesting though Miyamoto showed no distaste in it since at least this meant he could browse some of the stores and stand to select the most fresh ingredients rather than pick up something that'd go bad within a matter of days. Miyamoto always had a knack for telling when a merchant was attempting to rip him off by selling him something that normally would be high priced yet it had been sitting out in the open for a long enough period of time that it wasn't worth it's price any longer; this was mainly due to his lack of vision in his right eye, so he had trained himself to make up for it by using his other senses such as smell and taste to a higher degree.

Eventually Miyamoto had reached his destination, canopies of all variety of colors and size covered every inch of ground in the large circular area. Each canopy had at least one or two people standing underneath it while they sold a general assortment of wares and goods, one person sold meat, another sold fish, others sold small trinkets. As the dark haired male progressed his way through the crowd of civilians, the phrase 'excuse me' became almost overused due to how tight the walking space was and the fact that he pulled the platform truck through only made the space all that much more compact.

After several minutes of constant struggle just to slip pass everyone to reach his first stop. The male only exhaled a deep sigh before rubbing his temple with his left hand, even if this might be difficult it was the best option to go with rather than even think of carrying everything back by hand.

At his first stop, the stand Miyamoto approached had a rather large assortment of herbs, vegetables as well as fruits. Inspecting each item with his only fully usable eye, he ended up selecting certain bushes of all different types of food. The owner of the stand just so happen to had been a rather elderly Asian woman who wore a bamboo conical hat while she sat upon a small stool and eyed the man that was eyeing her goods. The fact that he took his time to go through every bit of the vegetables and other goods made her easily tell that he knew his ingredients quite well compared to many others who just picked up the nearest item they needed before paying and continuing with their day.

"My, my...you are buying quite the large amount. Are you going on a trip, my boy?" Questioning the male with her warm wrinkled smile, the elderly woman stuffed each vegetable into it's own plastic bag to separate them with her shaking bony wrinkled hands. Rather than speak out his answer, Miyamoto only replied with a nod of his head while he took every bag from the woman that she had finished before placing it upon the truck. With this large gathering of people, he was cautious not to speak too much about where or what he was doing with this amount of food just in case there were any overly nosey individuals that might wish to follow him and start trouble, the last thing he needed at the moment was to make a scene and end up returning to the ship empty handed.

Several hours passed as Miyamoto lost track of time due to his shopping and constant struggles to slip passed people with the truck full of food of all sorts. The sun by now had been setting as the once clear blue skies had started to fade into a dimmer shade of blue little by little, luckily by this point, many of the customers had already bought whatever they came for and had been on their way while a majority of the stand owners began to pack up their goods and belongings for the day as well; this making his travel much easier to reach from one spot to another without requiring to squeeze through as many people.

With the last bit of his shopping done, the dark haired male finally began to proceed to the docks where he was instructed to meet the crew as well as the Captain aboard the ship.

It was quite the ways to reach the docks and with the weight of all the groceries that had been purchased being hauled on the platform truck only made his progress to reach the docks all that much longer. Making sure the entire time that he pulled the truck it was with his prosthetic arm so that it wouldn't have to put too much strain onto his left arm, of course even so, the pulling of his right shoulder was still dreadfully painful after dragging the truck around each corner.
By the time he had finally reached the docks and approached the Cou De Sainte, he stood there just for a few moments to take in the view of the ship he was going to be spending most of his days on whether it was going to be permeant or temporary. Unaware of whether the Captain let alone any of the other crew had already climbed aboard, Miyamoto tugged the truck to the rear of the ship just to enter through the loading ramp so that he could bring the food into the pantry and stock up on everything.

This was going to be one hell of a trip and he knew it.

Yonni · Apr 9, 2019

As beautiful as Bolio was, reaching its fingers into the sky, Corbeau seemed to fail in finding the beauty in it. He always did. It was there, clear as day. A picture so grand, it'd be impossible to miss. But like a rat dredging itself up from the gutters, only long enough to scour the alleys for scraps, it's where he managed to find himself. As if the slums themselves called to him—where rough-rousers leaned against tipped garbage bins, arms crossed over barrel-chests; the unsavory and bleak denizens of the independent city. These were his people, after all. These were the ones who he found himself gravitating towards… because people without grease on their hands or grit to their names made him uncomfortable; affluence made his skin itch.

He wound himself down the streets as if he'd walked them before. O' course, he hadn't. But there was a certain familiarity to the cobblestones and broken bricks; buildings pressed up against each other until the sky only peered between the shutters. A sliver of sky here and there, a press of squalor in the belly of the industrious beast. Sometimes, he felt as if the sky was just too damn big above him. As if it'd swallow him if he lingered too long in the open. He slid his hand across the metal of the nearest wall pressing at his side. Smooth against his fingertips. Cold. He ignored the beady eyes of shaggy-haired individuals huddled in the shadows; only inclining their heads long enough to watch him pass. Wordless. He didn't mind the silence, nor the bustle ahead as he exited the mouth of the alley and stepped into the light.

The marketplace was much louder. Almost deafeningly so. He didn't mind this either. The press of bodies shifting their way past made him feel at home, almost. The brightness. The colors of the canvas stretched over each stall, swaying gently in the breeze. Everything so busy. The atmosphere itself made his heart swell. It was alive here, in the marketplace. Maybe, more than the entire city itself. He could almost remember hands held out wide, dirty wriggling fingers exposed to the sun. A wistful smile almost tipped the sides of his face up, until someone bumped into his shoulder and a tumble of oranges fell and rolled at their feet. He startled out of his thoughts; as the elderly woman's apologies broke through the hawking shouts of stall-sellers.

"'M sorry, sir. Sorry, sorry. Shoulda watched were 'oi was goin'." Voice, raspy and ragged with disuse. Her hands, translucent as thin paper and spidered with veins, waved in the air, as if she were trying to disarm a violent encounter. Her blue eyes were soft and kind, if not a little scared.

Corbeau bent low and ignored her protesting cries of no, no, 'ave got it as he scooped up the oranges in his arms. One, two, three, four. She reminded him of someone. A lot of people reminded him of someone. It was a habit of his, comparing people to who he used to know. He found comparisons in the unlikeliest places. Or else, maybe, he just made them up to suit him. To feel as if those familiar things were still around. Four, five, six. He adjusted his bundle, straightened up, and set them back into the wicker basket she clutched to her chest.

"Good lad, good lad. Thank ye' fer yer kindness." Words failed him, in moments like these, rare as they were. He nodded awkwardly and turned to go. He felt a pull. A small tug. Nearly like a child's, pulling on the back of his shirt. An orange was pushed into his hands, accompanied by a flutter of shooing fingers and a gap-toothed smile; crinkles pulling at the corner of her eyes. And then, she was gone, waddling in the opposing direction. This time, she seemed to weave more carefully.

He stood there, stupidly. Staring after her. Orange in hand.

Only after a few minutes passed did he remember himself, and what he'd set out to do, scratching at his jawline. Confusion wrinkling his brow. He shook it free, and walked down the marketplace, ignoring bargaining catcalls and words meant to entice into buying something from them. Mike had given him direct instructions to procure ammunition and equipment for Peter. He'd get it done without delay. He didn't have any specific plans to linger long after that—never did, really. His idea of fun was… somewhat skewed. Much preferred staying aboard a ship to keep out of trouble; it always had a knack of finding his way to him. Though, recently, his hands were free of bruises or cuts. That was something. An improvement.

He had Mike to thank for that.

If it hadn't been for the Captain scooping him up from a dingy bar, he wasn't sure where he'd end up. Maybe, dead somewhere in a gutter. Or still breaking knees for whoever wanted to pay him. It wasn't a pretty job. He wasn't sure when he'd ever done a pretty job before. One that didn't involve him washing his hands clean of something unsavory. This, on the other hand, felt good. Sailing the skies with a crew that didn't expect him to do anything else but protect them: the ship, and its crew. For once, he felt good about that.

Haggling with the sallow-faced man for reasonably priced ammo wasn't that hard. It wasn't as if Corbeau was the best at lowering the price, certainly not through wagging a smooth tongue, because he'd never been a charismatic. He just set a price, and refused to budge. No smile. No friendliness, as if he were doing them a favor being there. Face like a stone, unmovable. It was either sink to his level or lose a potential customer. A sense that if the seller wouldn't comply, he'd move elsewhere. It always worked. He even managed to finagle a truck, driven by the man's sons, to deliver the goods directly to the port. He'd load it himself once it was there.

With a brief handshake, Corbeau tipped his head and disappeared out the door, just as quietly as he'd come.

The truck bumped and coughed into the warehouse in due time, and Corbeau hopped down from his perch of boxes he'd been waiting on. He'd made his way back to the Cou as soon as he'd closed the deal. Quick as an eel, slithering back home. Though he hadn't seen head or tail of anyone but the back of Elisia's head bobbing across the Cou's deck—or else, who he assumed was the ship's esteemed pilot. Hard to tell. But he thought he recognized the high-collared fur, pulled up around her face. She seemed quiet as a mouse, but with something on the surface he couldn't quite pick at. An intrigue.

Unloading the truck only took minutes with the merchant's sons help. He waved them off as they hopped back into the decrepit truck; a sight to see, with rust licking up its body and puffs of smoke whisping from it's rattling exhaust. Several stopped to shout their goodbyes, grinning and shaking their heads. It was clear to see they'd been here before. Good to know. He preferred local businesses, rather than anything else. Small, family-owned business bore the greatest quality. Anything that had less to do with uppity rich-folk suited him just fine.

Sweat beaded his brow by the time he finished loading the crates onto the Cou de Sainte. He wiped his forehead against the back of his hand, puffed out a breath and leaned up against the nearest railing. Soon, they'd take to the skies and go wherever the hell Mike wanted them to go. For once, he was excited about something. It'd been awhile.

This kind of work felt good.

Heartfeltwords · Apr 9, 2019

Peter Wright

Bolio was beautiful. And the girls weren't half-bad either, Peter thought to himself with a awkward tipping smile. A gaggle of young women passed, eyeing him. He awkwardly waved and flashed his quirky smile, they giggled and hurried off. Peter scratched the back of his head as he watched them go, wistful.

"Ah, not the time for that now, Pete. Not the time for that now." Peter mumbled to himself, turning on his heel and making his way through the winding streets. It was his first big job for the Captain--and he wanted to prove himself the capable mechanic that Cou needed. The ladies could wait. "They love it when you make 'em wait anyway--eh? Right, then." he muttered, smoothing his wiry hair back.

It wasn't hard to locate the shop he needed. Well--more like a junkyard, really. Piles of scrap and what appeared to be attempts at modern art sculptures using said scrap, littered the front yard and even the roof. A rusted sign squeaked in the ocean breeze. The door was propped open with yet another mount of metal. Tempting. Peter curiously prodded the pile, looking for anything useful for his purposes. His side hobby--if you would. Peter liked to try his hand at inventing in his spare time. Usually small bobbles, small tinker toys, and nothing entirely useful...yet. Most of them went horribly wrong after the first use. But they were small so...any..bugs..cause only little damage. And usually directly to his person...

"Can I help you?" A gruff female voice barked from behind him. Peter jumped, startled out of his thoughts. He turned to see a tiny, mouse-like woman with wild white hair and a rather witchy nose glowering at him with her hands on her hips. She wore a leather apron--she must have been welding in the back.

"Ah--ah--yes, actually. I rather hoped you could. I'm in need of AA Shots for our ship, several bottles of oil, a batch of assorted screws, a new Philips head, and a new socket wrench...adjustable if you've got it."

The woman huffed, but got to work on filling his order. Peter felt she probably preferred to be welding than working with her customers.

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Peter felt quite proud of himself as he hefted his box of tools and supplies along towards the docks. After expressing his interest in tinkering, the old shopkeep had softened a little and even thrown in some bits of scrap for his own personal projects. As he made his way, a small shop window caught his eye. It was filled with small toys, an old map of the nations, balls, skipping ropes and his favorite..a checkers set.

"Perfect! She'll love this!" Peter cooed excitedly, stepping in to make his purchase. He still needed to build a bond with the ship's Anckilian, after all. What better way than to play a bit? Sure, she couldn't touch the pieces...but that didn't bother Peter. He could move them for her. Build up communication, and trust!

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The sun was much lower than Peter had anticipated when he finally left the toy shop. Turned out the shopkeeper was a rather pretty young woman with blonde hair and a smile that knocked Peter's shoes off. He had spent far too much time pretending not to understand checkers for his own good. She had been all to happy to play him until he "got it." Peter nearly lost hold of his box of supplies as he sprinted pell-mell through the docks and shouting crew members looking to make way.

"'scuse me! I beg your pardon! If you don't mind--" Peter mumbled, barely avoiding people milling the docks. The back way! That's where he'd head, easier to drop these things off in the belly, as it were. Peter grinned, proud of his own cleverness--just as he tripped over a handtruck full of groceries and nearly toppled over the man pulling it into the ship.

Peter's supply box flew upwards and scattered on the ground with many metallic thunks.

"Oh..bother.. Sorry about that old boy...I usually don't fall for your type...eh?" Peter always made terrible puns when he was nervous. Quickly, he picked up whatever food had spilled from the cart and put it to right, then scooped up his scattered scrap, pilling it into his now somewhat crushed box. "You must be one of my new crew mates then? I'm Peter--sorry if our introduction is a bit...trippy..." Peter said, offering a tipped smile and his hand to the man.

MrCalcium · Apr 11, 2019

Casey Arthen

Casey was ecstatic to have finally arrived in Bolio. The city was absolutely beautiful and it was more lively than any city she had ever been to. With a satisfied grin she walked out of the inn she had stayed at after getting instructions from Michael Canderbar, the man who was the reason she was in this beautiful place. He had offered her a job as Navigator of the airship known as the Cou de Saint.

Casey would have to go around the Navigator's office in the city to get some updates for her maps. Michael had mentioned it was of utmost importance that she could calculate their directions during the trip so they could get to where they had to go to. With her parrot on her shoulder she set out into the city to go and do her tasks. She would also go to check some shops on some utensils for herself.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Casey looked around excitedly at all of the different people in the city. There was families who lived her or who came just to visit to see the beauty of the city itself. There was tradesmen going around to find people to sell their exotic wares to and small shops lined up across the streets who sold anything from food to handmade trinkets. Casey knew though, that the office was the first thing to head to.

When she got there, people gave her a bit of a stare. It was rare to see a female Navigator, especially one that was carrying a parrot on their shoulder. Of course it didn't help she was from the Chinese region but when she began speaking fluent English with a Brittianian accent, people were surprised. "Hello there! I came to update some of my outdated maps for a trip I am going on with my new crew. Hope you can help me!" She put the maps she was carrying on the desk along with the money for the work. She would walk around the office and wait for her maps to be finished.

It didn't take long for the mapmaker in the office to finish as it was only small corrections as Casey would keep her maps updated a lot so she could see where everything was and if new places had been discovered. He took the money she had put down and Casey went on her way into the streets to look at the different shops. She eventually found one which sold pencils and rulers. She checked her own rulers which were all completely worn out and so were her pencils. She laughed awkwardly, putting them back into her bag but she took some money out, choosing some nice utensils and bought them. It was nice to finally hold brand new drawing utensils which could help her be more accurate and make it look nice on her maps.

She thought she had everything and walked over towards where the ship would be. She was kind of running late but then a merchant stopped her. "Hello there miss. I see your beautiful parrot and this must mean you love animals." Casey would have kept walking but he was right, and she walked over. This is when the man pulled out a little box with airholes in it. "In this box is an animal from a far away land. I got it from someone and it's only a few months old. For a cheap price you can buy this. But you cannot peek into the box until you have bought it!" Casey sighed and looked around as she knew she would have to be quick to get to the ship in time. She nodded her head and gave the man some money. She took the box and looked down at it, hearing some rattling inside as she looked back towards where the man should be. "So what is thi-..." Suddenly the man had disappeared. Casey thought nothing of it but knew she had to begin sprinting to make it to the ship.

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Casey had stuffed the box into her bag for now and was sprinting towards the docks. She saw the ship in the distance and began running as fast as she could with her short legs. She got there, completely out of breath as she began climbing up the rope ladder at the side. When she finally got up she stood there for a bit, taking deep breaths of air.

She looked around the ship seeing multiple people which she assumed were her crew mates. She scraped her throat and fixed her hat, her parrot beginning to happily screech. [color=FF7518]"Uh... hello! I am Casey Arthen, your Navigator! I got caught up in... something so I had to run. Hope we can all get along."[/color]

She looked off the edge, taking in the beautiful sight of the area around them. She shook her head though and walked over to where a rather rough looking man was leaning against the railing (Corbeau.) She sat down on the ship and took the box she bought from her bag. She opened it to reveal a small rodent with a light colored skin and big eyes. She was in love with it and softly ran her finger over its head, the animal looking calm and sitting there. She carefully put her hand under it and took it out of the box, setting it on her hand and petting it. "Hey there little one. You're with me now, welcome to the crew! I'll name you... Rabby!"

Periwinkle · Apr 11, 2019

Adelaide Petrov

The tune of voices came and went, uncaring if others were listening. No matter what time it was, the city of Bolio was always busy. From the drunkest of men, to the mother trying to calm her screaming child, the crowded street was buzzing with diversity. Bolio was, for lack of better words, astounding. The sheer amount of people was nearly jaw dropping, and the buildings were... It was hard to describe, every city had their own quirks, but this particular one stood out. Mayhap everyone thought the same when they saw something new, the breathtaking sights changing their view on the world.

People wavered in and out of Adelaide's peripheral vision as she weaved through the crowds, attempting to find the only clinic. The girl had briefly seen a sign somewhere pointing the way, but that had been several blocks back and now she was almost certain she'd gone too far. First day on the job and she already gets turned about, how would that fair for her later on? Midnight was a few hours away, the sun's dwindling light barely giving her any reassurance.

Michael, her new captain, had given each crew member a mission–if you would call it that–along with a couple of hours to complete them and be back on the ship. They were simple: the mechanic gets tools, marine gets their needed ammo, navigator updates maps, things of that sort. Her task would have been the easiest had their supplies not been so low, nor so old. Adelaide had brought quite a bit of things from her time working as a traveling nurse, but she realized that they would need more than what she offered. Such as, Antipyretics, Benzocaine, and Morphine. Living on a ship with a mind of its own, especially being so young, was a lot more dangerous than living on the ground.

Thinking of her new life brought butterflies to her stomach, her fingers twitching in near excitement. It was wild to think about how quickly her life had changed, going from a on-the-ground clinic to a ship medic. Her lips formed into a small smile as she thought about it, excited to see what was to come for her and her new crew.

After a few more minutes of walking; or rather, limping, she finally decided to ask where the clinic was. Otherwise, she had a feeling that she would never find it.

Noticing a small woman a few feet ahead of her, she quickened her pace to catch up. "Ma'am? Would you by chance know where your local physician resides?" She politely asked as she reached out and gently grabbed the woman's shoulder. "I seem to be lost and I have a terrible sense of direction..." She continued, a small red hue dusting her cheeks. Adelaide was a very prideful woman, simply admitting defeat made her feel like a child all over again.

The woman turned to her, offering her a pleasant smile as she pointed towards a building to the left of her. "Right over there, darlin'. Ye almost missed it." Blood creeped up to Adelaide's ears, but nonetheless thankful. "'Ave a wonderful day, miss." The woman gave her a toothy grin before heading on her merry way.

Adelaide stood there for a few seconds, staring at the retreating back of the woman. Thank god[FONT=Marcellus, serif], she thought. Relief flooded her veins, thankful for the woman. She avoided the clumps of people around her, walking around them until she finally made it to the front door of the building. The bell jingled as she opened the door, immediately noticing almost immediately just how pristine the interior was. It was clean, very little people were inside, and it felt almost as if it didn't belong. She wondered if it was used as a ruse, trying to hide the fact that death was just around the corner.[/FONT]

She made it back to the ship in one piece, supplies and medicine tucked safely in her bag. Some even had to be carried by hand, as the bag was too small for everything they needed. The entire transaction only took a few minutes, and heading back to the ship was much shorter than her trip from it. Adelaide felt almost ridiculous at how long it took her to return, the sun's rays hardly showing past the horizon.

Despite how long it took her, she was happy that she got it over with. One obstacle overcome, and she had a feeling that there would be many more to come. One of which included introducing herself to her new crew mates. They were a diverse group, it appeared, as she glanced at the people on the ship. All completely different people with their own stories to tell. Adelaide was nervous, these are the people she would be around on the daily, which was a completely different setting from what she was used to. Once her mentor had passed, and from that day on, she had been on her own.

Releasing the grip she had on the strap of her bag, she took a few deep breaths and forced herself to relax. "Hello, I'm Adelaide. It's lovely to meet you." She spoke to no one in particular, unsure of what to do. She stood there awkwardly, absentmindedly twiddling with the strap of her leather bag.

Rosé Moon · Apr 12, 2019

Eʅιʂια Cσɾɾιɳσ Bҽʅʅҽϝσɳƚҽ

As all good thing go, this moment of bliss behind the wheel of the ship was short-lived. Before long, Elley was reminded that the captain was also aboard the ship, and she hid the smile that she had worn, however briefly. Her eyes moved down to examine the wheel, and ran her finger along the wheel as she pulled her hands away, she would return to this state of mind, but first impressions were important, and that smile would make her seem weak.

First impressions?

Her eyes thinned in contemplation as recalled she had met them, however briefly before heading off into Bolio. She barely remembered them two asians, an oak tree man, a wispy willow man, and the navigator girl. So as soon as another one of them returned to the ship instead of greeting them, she purposely ignored them as they arrived.

Until she couldn't.

"--sorry if our introduction is a bit...trippy..."

The sound she made was audible to anyone around the ship. The sound it should've been was an elongated groan, but it sounded like a bear and stubbed his toe, and it had been projected through a female projector. Anyone who had heard her voice before, at this point only the Captain, might relate it to the gruff looking, goggle-toting, suspends adorn, and fur trimmed coat wearing girl. The only sign that it might've been her, and not some sky-bear that the captain was smuggling away in the hold and hadn't told them about was that she followed it up with a sound that was supposed to be clearing her throat, but it was more relatable to the fatal stages of whooping-cough.

This scene was almost comical, as this sound was followed up by here head poking up over the railing from a higher section of the ship, where she had moved away to more effectively ignore her crew mates.

She then shot the man, Peter the Mechanic, a look that might have set fabric on fire on a dry day. However, she said nothing outside of that bizarre sound. The woman turned on her heels, rounded the railing and decended down the stairs that lead to the main deck of the ship. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to reprimand the mechanic for his terrible pun, but instead she simply moved to the mast nearest them and leaned against the mass. Arms folded against over her chest, and brow in furrows.

It seemed the pun had damaged her into interacting with them.

Or maybe she believed that her supervision would prevent the repeat of such heinous acts.

Either way, she joined the core cast, overlooking them with a judgmental stare, eyes casually hanging around the quiet ones, who seemed more inclined to work.

The Marine and First Mate.

While her more harsh gaze met the girl with the pet, the one who had just announced her arrival, and the pun man.

happymech99 · Apr 12, 2019

Just as Miyamoto had rounded the corner of a large ship to reach the rear of said ship, the sight of the ramp already lowered brought a tad bit of relief that at least he wasn't going to have to search all over for the Captain to ask him how he was to lower the ramp. Tugging the truck passed the ramp just so that he could have enough space to maneuver it around and end up living the truck with the ramp to tug it upwards without the concern of spilling the food all over the ground. As it had appeared, there were plenty of men and women going in and out of the ship as well as surround it from the deck of the ship to the surroundings of it; each person seemed to be dedicated to a particular job, whether it was checking the sails for and rips or tears to loading on equipment onto the ship as well.

It wasn't until the sight of a man who seemed to be in his late thirties was seen carrying what appeared to had been two swords completely sheathed and wrapped in a red cloth did Miyamoto nearly drop the handle of the truck to chase after the man. Knowing all too well those were his belongings, Miyamoto had a difficult time whenever someone touched those swords in particular especially due to the two dangling black roses that were on the hilt of the swords. Though, just as the dark haired male slightly loosened his grip onto the handle, the slightest tug of the truck threatening to roll away had him tighten his grip once more to avoid the loss of the food.

Watching now only as the man carried the two swords up the ramp of the ship he would be boarding soon, Miyamoto only exhaled a deep sigh and accepted the fact that someone was holding his belongings. Just as he had taken a single step forward, the unexpected bump into the truck full of groceries had Miyamoto quickly turn his attention right around to see what appeared to had been a young male tripping off and spilling some of the food onto the floor. Luckily, everything that fell over was still in the bag so it hadn't gathered any dirt from the ground; though it did not change that it wasn't something one would want on the floor for an extended amount of time such as cabbage and meat.

With the strange immediately picking up the food that had fallen off the truck just to return them from where they had originally fallen from, following that the male ended up also introducing himself as Peter as well as stating that he was one of his new crew mates. Of course, the fact of meeting one of his crew mates now wasn't exactly a problem however the fact of how the man introduced himself and apologized in such a way with his choice of words was quite irritating, just knowing the fact that the man was full of puns was no doubt going to be a slight problem with Miyamoto at times.

Reluctantly he reached a hand out to shake Peter's hand in return while giving so much as a half smile across his own lips. "Nice...to meet you. I am Miyamoto Suzuki...Could you help me with this..to the kitchen?" Although after such an introduction, Miyamoto wouldn't have asked this man for any help, the fact that he was the only other one that wasn't too busy at the moment to assist him had him at least take some and any kind of help for the time being.
It had only taken about a moment or so as Miyamoto had turned his gaze back towards the path before him did he come to see what had appeared to had been a woman now staring upon the two men. Without so much as a word towards her, he only flashed his golden gaze towards her before focusing on the path of the ramp before him.

Yonni · Apr 12, 2019

The Cou de Sainte almost felt like the bustling streets of Bolio's marketplace, except it'd come to him in a matter of minutes. A breathless, motley crew; wandering back to port and assembling together. Lively was a pretty damn accurate word for it. Corbeau had never been that good at introducing himself. Introductions were dry things; uncomfortable. People tended to try too hard and he never understood why. He'd always treated people he worked closely with as if he'd known them all along. As if it made sense that he skipped all those awkward bits of getting to know each other, and dug into the meat of it. He knew his job and he'd do it well. It'd be as natural as breathing.

There were exceptions. There always were. People he tended to gravitate towards more than others. People that might make him care. This would be different. He already knew that. He didn't want to drift around anymore, directionless. This would be his home, if Mike allowed it to be. As long as he was useful, that's what he desired most. A purpose, and a place. To feel something. He let his gaze drift skyward as he leaned his elbows against the smooth, oak railing. The ship itself was impressive, with it's towering mast and fluttering sails; even in it's youth. He'd always heard tales of these ships: the living one's that had ambitions as grand as their captain's. Mistress Hive said as much when he was a boy.

Too bad he wasn't a Seeker. People lucky enough to see their ethereal forms; the heart of the ship. A small, childish part of him wished he could see her. Or any of them, really. He'd have to ask Peter about her. See what she was like, and how it felt to be free, cutting through the skies like butter.

A ruckus came from below, near the trucks where he'd spotted Miyamoto loading up food-stuffs. He couldn't particularly see what was happening from where he was standing… but, by the sounds of it someone was already setting it right. 'Ol boy. He'd never heard anyone referred like that before, but he kinda liked it. He'd been seconds away from checking it out before he shifted in his position and watched as head bob up over the horizon. Black hair flying.

When the small devushka, as bright-eyed as the sun, almost blindingly so, crossed the deck and plopped herself at his side, he turned his head to regard her. His gaze dropped down to the small box cradled in her lap. An eyebrow raised as she carefully lifted the lid up and set it to the side. The tiny mouse-like creature with eyes as dark as hers… certainly wasn't what he was expecting to see. His hands would've dwarfed it. A laugh almost bubbled out of his mouth, though he smothered it into a grin and looked away. Rabby, ah.

Another voice snapped his attention to the center of the decks. Across the way. A dark-haired lady. Just as tiny as the navigator, standing in the middle of the Cou de Sainte's deck as if she were about to give a speech. Or else, that's what it looked like. Instead, she stated her name. Polite as a peach. Soft-spoken. She was the nurse aboard the ship. The one who'd be stitching them back together again when they got into trouble. No doubt, she'd have to see his sorry face pretty often—a small pang of guilt drew his hands together, fingers rubbing against scarred knuckles.

Of course, Corbeau remembered all of their names before they'd even boarded the ship. Set them to memory. Elisia, the pilot. Miyamoto, First Mate. Adelaide, medic. Peter, the mechanic. Casey, navigator. He had a tendency to notice the small details, things that might slip someone's mind. Names were important, though. They meant something. So, he'd asked Mike beforehand to see the roster, skimmed through and inquired what each person might look like. It was a new crew. A new potential family. People he'd get to know pretty closely in their travels. It made his chest swell and feel cramped all at once, though his expression remained passive.

"Privet vsem, I'm Corbeau." He inclined his head towards the navigator still at his side, "That's Casey and Rabby." He gestured wide, and allowed the first grin to pull at his face, "Welcome home."

Heartfeltwords · Apr 13, 2019

Peter Wright

From above him, Peter heard a somewhat disturbing, beast-like sound. Were there animals on board? Were they injured? He looked up, his eyes expecting a wounded creature, but only finding a young woman in a fur-trimmed coat. She stared down at him intently. Fire in her eyes. Intense. He liked bold women. Well, all women, really. But especially bold ones. Peter flashed her his most debonair grin, smoothing back his hair with the grease that seemed to be perpetually on his ever-tinkering hands.This was going to be an excellent trip. With excellent company.

Peter's attention was quickly brought back to the man in front of him, introducing himself as Miyamoto. Peter gripped his hand in a respectfully firm manner.

"Right, absolutely. Yeah, I can help with that. Here let me--" Peter rambled, stuffing his box full of scrap and tools under one arm and hefting an armload of produce under the other. "There. Right as rain. Up we go!" Peter quickly shuffled up the ramp past Miyamoto with his armload and headed inside. The galley was easy enough to find, and Peter quickly was free of his produce. He scurried out of the galley before Miyamoto could ask for anything more, more excited to see his own work station, his crew mates and meet the lady Cou, herself than to make himself useful here.

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He plodded up the steps to the deck, seeing a young woman with a parrot on one shoulder and a small creature in her hand, a woman hefting a bag and a man who could only possibly be their ship's muscle. He spotted the same glowering woman in the fur trimmed coat not far away as well. Peter grinned impishly at them all, excited as a puppy meeting other dogs.

"Hullo! Looks like we have quite the lovely crew on our hands here!" Peter beamed, winking at the woman in the fur-coat playfully. He ambled over to the woman with the parrot, admiring her pets. "Wow! Lovely creatures you have there. Is that a blue mccaw?" Peter asked, marveling at the bird's beautiful plumage. As distracted and excitable as ever, he noticed the man beside them and extended a hand for him to shake. "Glad to meet ya, old boy!" He said, gripping the man's hand companionably. "Peter Wright." He said, addressing the man and women around him warmly. "Ship's mechanic, and tinkering hobbist. Very pleased to meet you all!" Peter smiled warmly at the woman with the bag. "Do you need a hand with that miss?" Peter offered kindly, gesturing toward the woman's bag.

Peter hadn't yet spotted the ship's Ancilikan, Cou--but bonding with his crew mates was just as important as bonding with the ship's core at the moment. He was sure he'd meet her in due course. He was excited to teach her to play checkers with him.

Quakernuts · Apr 15, 2019

Cou de Saint

If one were to ask 'What time is it?' to anyone else in the world, one might answer with a number. One might answer by looking at the position of the sun in the sky, or one might simply shrug and reply with uncertainty. The constant about that, however, is that they all understand the question in the exact same way. To humans, time is a constant trudge forward into inevitability. A way to mark the progression of society, technology, history and, above all else, mortality. What happens though, when you ask something that isn't inherently human? Would they respond in the same way, their minds working like ours? Or would they give an answer that we simply wouldn't be able to understand? Maybe they understood the fabric of reality more than we could possibly hope to ever achieve?

Maybe, although by looking at Cou's projected form, you'd be forgiven for thinking they have the intelligence of a dog.

Cou, in her invisible form, privy to the sight of seekers alone, sat on the back end of the ship near the helm. Well, 'sat' is a strong word, as she wasn't exactly corporeal. She mimicked the action, after having been around humans on a ship for so long, she liked to act like she was also 'on board' the ship, and not actually the ship in the first place. Her ghostly form shimmered slightly, her hair, or what could classify as it, waved with unseen wind as her overly large eyes peered at the docks with increased interest as the dock workers and shipwrights went about their days. For the most part, no one noticed her, or at least no one made it overly obvious that they noticed her. There was the odd person who would walk by, staring at her exact position as if they could see her. Maybe they could, she couldn't tell who at a glance was a seeker.

For the moment, she was alone on her deck, the Cou de Saint. Her name that had been given to her by Bethany Canderbar, supported by Patrick Canderbar, and ultimately commanded by Michael Canderbar. She liked the name, well, of course she did. It was hers and hers alone. She floated from the helm of the ship, all the way up to the crow's nest and looked out at the city. Humans were truly capable of great things, considering how beautiful this city looked, filled with life and culture that always managed to entertain her the few times she had been here. People went about their business, talking and shouting, excited and bored. So many different emotions, so many different motivations, it was fun to watch them go about their business.

She peered off to the side and noticed her captain walking along the dock. With a tiny bit of glee, she darted off towards him at full speed. She got about halfway to him, maybe about 40 feet from the ship, when her form started dissipate. She looked down at her hands as they became slightly see through and she felt her mind become slightly muddled. She looked up to where Mike was, noticing his very casual stride along the docks and did the best pouting impression she could without actually having a mouth. While she could telepathically communicate over great distances, her projected form did not have that same ability. It was limited to a set radius around the ship, although she could feel herself getting stronger each day. One day maybe she would be able to fly all over an island! For now though, she crossed her legs and arms, floating tumbling through the air at a slow pace as she waited for her lazy captain to actually return to the ship.

When Mike actually did reach her, she lit up for a moment… Only for Mike to pass right through her, creating wisps of pink to float around before coalescing back into her singular form. She did her best exasperated expression, much like she had seen other people do, and took off to follow him back. She lowered herself from the air, and walked beside him as he continued his trek, slinging her arms behind her and staring up in the sky like a spoiled brat bored stiff. Her form became more solid as she returned to the ship, eventually following Mike up to the deck. Mike asked how she was doing, and Cou lit up a little. She knew he couldn't see her, but he always asked and she enjoyed it. He knew she was around, even if that was a bit of an obvious fact, but she liked that he always asked despite never being able to hear an answer. There was also the fact that Mike was an adventuring soul, and he would always entertain. As he took up a position leaning on a rail, she floated next to him, her hands balled into fists in front of her chest as she bobbed up and down, waiting for him to do something exciting.

Minutes passed.

She floated there, staring at him wide eyed before settling into a deadpan look. She allowed herself to slowly float through the deck into the hold below. That is, until she heard more boots on her wooden hull, and poked her head through the deck to see the pilot moving her way up to the Helm. Cou followed her, watching as she slid her fingers over the wheel with a genuine smile on her face. Cou floated around her, poking her fingers through the attire she chose to adorn. She looked interesting, and she had so many scars, what were they from? Before long, others were returning to the ship. Cou followed the one that had been deemed a 'Marine' as he unloaded what looked like ammo for her cannons. She rubbed her hands in mischievous glee. She would be a feared ship, mighty and powerful, woe to those who would harm her and her crew. Strong and silent, none of the people she had looked at could see her yet as Corbeau ignored her completely. Not something she was unused to, but at times she wished everyone could see her.

Suddenly there was a crash outside and Cou's head perked up. What was that? An attack? Was someone harming her crew?! She darted back outside the ship to see a couple people talking around spilled food. Wait, these were the people who could see her right? The first mate and mechanic? Cou flew above them as apparently there were bits of conversation that were causing glares from people to be aimed at the duo of seekers loading stuff into her hull. She decided, what with the hostile intent being sent, that she should avoid that for the moment being. While she had been distracted with that, two others had made their way on board. Suddenly, her lonely little boat had been filled with bodies once more and she was giddy as she moved beside the tiny little asian woman and her pets. They were adorable, and Cou poked her finger through the parrot, with her form obviously simply passing through the bird. The little rodent seemed to stare at her, but upon Cou moving her head side to side, simply deemed it a trick of the mind.

The other woman, the nurse, came up and introduced herself and Cou darted to her, circling around her form a couple of times as she stood there, nervousness seeming to pervade her being. She was fiddling with her leather bag, so Cou phased her face through it to see what was inside, disappointed that there was nothing interesting in there. Just medical and personal stuff that Cou found boring. "We all back?" Mike stated, walking to the center of the deck, causing Cou's head to explode into an 'attention' state, looking over at him as he pointed at each individual to make sure he had everyone. "Everything's loaded and we're good to go with the individual tasks? I assume no one had a problem?" He asked, earning a few nods and 'yeps' from the small crew. "Good, now while I would love to start with a bit more of a team building exercise, we do need to get going so I'm going to cut to the meat of things and we'll have a...I don't know...drinking game at some point." Cou flew over, flying literal circles around him before settling down and placing her chin on his head as best she could. Mike reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a piece of paper with some words on it. At this point, Cou went from excited to immediately bored as she seemed to deflate like a balloon, falling down but maintaining a lying position on the deck.

"We got ourselves a recovery mission, so time is of the essence. As you guys may or may not know, missions like these are first come, first serve, and fortunately we got this one hot off the hopper." Mike started, reading through a few of the details before continuing. "A russian ship went down on the island of Hangerade, north of NEC territory. There are some papers and jewels that the client would like returned, but apparently we have free reign to whatever else we find on that vessel...so, you know, freebies and such." As if anticipating the next question, Mike waved his hand. "No, I don't know why it went down, no one does. So we're going in kind of blind there, but hey, that's why we're careful about current activity in the area, right Ellie?" Mike stated, shooting a small smile towards the pilot. "We'll be flying straight there, no stops but Cou should be able to keep us mainly on course so no 24 hour shifts necessary." Mike put away the paper, causing Cou to spring upwards like a bear trap and attempt to grab him only to float through him. She made a mocking 'surprise' face, continuing through the captain only to float through the deck reappearing in front of the crew through the wooden floor.

"So let's get started. Casey, work with-" Mike paused as he looked at the tiny box she held with what appeared to be...a rabbit? A rat? Who knew. "Could have sworn you only had a bird last time I talked to you...No matter. Casey, work with Ellie and get us a heading for Hangerade." Mike turned towards Miyamoto. "Mimi, you and Corbeau prep the sails, hoist the ropes, you know the drill. Get us out of dock and on our way." Mike then turned towards the last two. "Addie, Peter, I'll leave you two to head to your positions and get acquainted with what we have. Addie, in particular, I apologize that I don't have a proper medical room, but it's all we got. Oh, and Peter...don't let Cou sass you alright? If I remember correctly, she's got a bit of a mischievous streak to her."

Cou bristled at this, turning back towards Mike and poking him in the eyes repeatedly as he continued to talk, using her other hand to mock his words, shaking her head back and forth much like an adolescent child. "Everyone has something to do? Good, let's get to it." Mike ended with a slight clap of the hands as he moved to the Captain's Cabin. Cou stared at him for awhile, a bit of vitriol in the way she was looking after him for that 'sassy' comment, but soon turned and went down to her core. She stared at herself, her real self as it pulsated with a soft pink glow. It was roughly the size of an overly large boulder, held in place with wooden and metal beams that protected her from potential shrapnel and debris. Obviously there were sections open to the crew that the mechanic could access to assist her, or inject her with AA shots if necessary. She placed a hand on the core, and felt resistance. He core was the only thing that her psychic project could actually 'touch', and it wasn't so much touching as it was not being to warp into your own mind.

That was a thought for another time though, and Cou simply floated through the inner deck waiting for the mechanic to show up. It was time for them to get going, onwards to adventure and all that jazz. It was gonna be fun!

Michael Canderbar

It had been a couple days since they had left Bolio, floating through the open skies towards their objective. The crew had taken nicely to the ship it seemed, settling into their roles and each other as best they could...for the most part. There were some points of contention, such as Ellie's bristly disposition, Peter's puns and Casey's bird and...rat thing running around. Still, all that meant was that the ship had personality, something that he would prefer over having the biggest cannons or fastest sails. Everyone was wandering about, doing whatever tasks were assigned to them while Mike leaned against the railings facing the bow of the ship from the helm. Behind him, Ellie was on the wheel and Casey wouldn't be too far away, her skills necessary to making sure they didn't sail the big open blue for eternity, looking for something that was actually miles away.

As he thought this, the clouds parted to reveal an island a few miles away. According to their charts, they were in the right area, so Michael pulled an eyeglass from his jacket, walking to the starboard of the ship and peering through the magnification. While it was still some distance away, he could make out the signature of Hangerade, which was the overly large flowers. Even from this distance they were visible, easily the size of a small house and, upon further inspection, it did appear like some of the trees were damaged. The ship they were looking for wasn't visible, but the island was fairly large, at least a few square kilometers in size so it was possible it landed on the other side or was hidden by brush. "Keep the heading Ellie, we've reached it." Mike stated, putting away the spyglass and wandering down to the deck.

On the mast was a small bell which Michael reached and gave a quick three rings. "Rise and shine beauties!" Michael stated, noting that the sun was still low in the sky but rising. It was fairly early morning, and while a number of people were undoubtedly up and about, he wouldn't put it past a few of them to still be slumbering. "Hangerade's off the starboard bow, get to work on prepping our landing. Ellie, bring us in nice and slow, still need to spot that ship… So someone get in the nest, see if you can't spy our bounty." Mike stated to no one in particular, whoever felt like climbing the ladder up to the nest could help with observation. For now, he went to the bow of the ship, peering at the island as it got ever closer. Hopefully this would be a simple in and out…

Hopefully.

happymech99 · Apr 17, 2019

Right as he had requested help from his new crewmate known as Peter, it seemed that the man showed no waste of time to grab the nearest bit of groceries underneath his arm just to trod his way straight up the ramp without so much as asking where he should put it whatsoever. 'I meant...help with the truck...okay.' As his thoughts wandered through his head, Miyamoto only responded with a shake of his head after a few moments before tugging along the rest of the truck full of produce up the ramp and straight into the interior of the ship. From there, the rest of the walk to the galley was a tad easier simply due to the ground being more flat compared to that of going up the ramp; though from one struggle he had to come to another as the turns of every corner made it awkward to get around.

Eventually, Miyamoto ended up reaching the kitchen of the ship and as expected from what he dealt with going around the slightly cramp corridors, the dining area and galley wasn't exactly spacious. There had been enough for the fridge, a sink a small counter and a stove; it wasn't perfect but he had dealt with much worse before. Leaving the platform truck in the middle of the corridor, the dark haired male tugged out a small silk cloth from the pocket of his pants just to tie his black and crimson hair up in a ponytail before heading straight in to organize and stow the produce where he believed it should all go.

Within minutes after finishing his organizing of the galley, Miyamoto took the liberty of removing the platform truck from the ship just to leave it anywhere he found space for it on the dock that wouldn't get in anyone's way before heading back to the ship itself.

Soon after returning to the ship, rather than remain in the interior of the ship to head towards the storage area so that he could check where his two swords were placed; he immediately progressed his way to the upper deck only to find the rest of the crew had gathered together to listen to Mike speak about the situation of the mission as well as instructing each of the crew members on what they were to do next.
Everything about their first job as well as what they were instructed to do was completely fine and dandy with Miyamoto, though what was with the nickname he had just been called; 'Mimi'. Rather than speak up about it, the male only shook his head at it before immediately heading off to the tasks at hand. As it seemed, the person who was going to be assisting with the preparations of leaving the dock was another male by the name of Corbeau or at least that was what Mike had called him.

With the help of another crew mate, Miyamoto had dont just as he was told and removed the ropes from their anchored positions while also tying up the ropes for later use if they needed to anchor themselves anywhere at any point.

Sailing through the skies for what seemed like forever which only turned out to be only a day or so; during that time Miyamoto acquainted himself slightly more with the rest of the crew such as getting to know their names as well as what their positions were on the ship. When it came to food, it seemed as though the crew at times shared the responsibilities of cooking meals if not, everyone simply made their own food whenever they felt like it.

As for rest and other things to do during the flight to their destination, Miyamoto spent most of his time above deck rather than in his hammock and sleeping with his back against the mast and his swords in his arms at nearly all times during his sleep. Other times when actually awake and about, unless he was given something to do or he saw it needed to be done and everyone else was busy; he could be found in the storage room practicing and honing his skills with his own hand-to-hand combat, that was the only time he had his kosode and hakama actually off just so that the cloth of the sleeves did not get in his way from his strikes or vision.

Finally, as the day came and they neared their destination, the sound of the bell ringing on the upper deck had Miyamoto stop mid strike as he had already been awake by this point and training within the storage compartment as he normally did. Slipping on his upper garments, he quickly rushed his way to the upper deck while making sure to tie up his hair into a ponytail once more. Heading off to the starboard side of the ship just to get the island into view, the sight of the massive flowers and trees upon the island brought a bit of curiousity to Miyamoto while he prepared the ropes to anchor themselves at nearest and safest possible spot. 'I got...a bad feeling about this...'

Rosé Moon · Apr 18, 2019

Eʅιʂια Cσɾɾιɳσ Bҽʅʅҽϝσɳƚҽ

To anyone outside of the young pilot's head, she might seem like she was miserable here on this ship. However she, and maybe also the ship itself might know, was very happy. When know one was looking she'd afford the opportunity to pull her scarred lip into a grin, but the moment was always fleeting.

Hah. FLEETing.

The pilot's eyes suddenly shot daggers towards the mechanic, Peter, as this pun invaded her mind. With a furrowed brow, she softly stomped her boot and shifted her gaze towards Casey. The gaze was softer, but maintained her usual look casual displeasure. Over the last few days, she hadn't spoken a single word, and had been trying to form a kind of language with the navigator.

If Casey ever told them their coordinates, Ellie would stomp once.

If the captain would give command of course difference, she'd stomp twice.

If she ever needed to leave her post, she'd clap her hands on the wheel twice.

So as the captain ordered her to prepare for landing, well first she did. She sleighted the wheel starboard a bit, before yanking a rope that would bring the sail up, and allow them to decelerate. Then she clapped her hands on the wheel before lifting her eyes towards Miyamoto at his comment,
Impressed by his insight. Then she spoke out for the first time, directly to the crew.

"Captain... regarding the information you told me to gather... I learned the under market in Bolio is mainly composed of stolen goods and... people."

She took a moment to observe the crew, she was quite selfconscious of her deformed voice, and in response, she rose her hand to cover her throat a bit before continuing.

"If the circumstances of our targets grounding is a mystery, it could be a trap."

With that, she looked down, he approached the wheel and continued preparing to bring the ship to a halt to make 'land' upon the captain's orders.

Yonni · Apr 22, 2019

Corbeau's grin widened when Peter crossed the distance between them: all smiles and swagger. He could practically picture his tail wagging. His entire presence felt light. As if a boundless energy radiated from him. It felt infectious. When he was offered his hand, he struck out with his own and gave him a strong shake. "Corbeau," he repeated softly. He tried to mold his tone into something palpable. Something friendly. Old boy. Yeah, he liked the sounds of that. He broke the handshake first and shoved his hand back into his pocket for fear of anxious habits, tapping at his forearm or fiddling with his belt loops, trying to think of something casual to say.

Captain saved him the trouble. No time for further introductions. They'd been given new instructions, and he was glad for it. It'd always given him direction when he felt useless. When he wasn't real sure what he should be doing. A gun without a hand. Without purpose. When he'd told them they could do whatever they wanted after acquiring what they needed to in Bolio… well, it'd been the first time he felt lost. He perked up and listened.

Mimi.

Corbeau wrinkled his nose at that—even if it had come from the Captain himself. The nickname was… way too cutesy for a guy like Miyamoto; calm and collected as he was, a picture of serenity. He gave off the impression of someone who liked things done in a particular way. Leaving little room for error, if any at all. He liked him. His first impression had been good even if they'd barely traded any words. The calculated quiet was refreshing. It put him at ease. He didn't need to fill the silence with idle chatter. Suited him just fine, not having to bumble through conversation like he was doing it for the first time.

He bobbed his head in a nod and set about helping Miyamoto prepare to set off once more, back into the skies. He helped remove the ropes that kept them anchored at port. Once that was done, he swept across the decks and checked over the sails. The integrity. Prepping them to unfurl once they pushed off. He checked once more. Twice, three times; it always better to make sure they were in tip-top shape. Besides, Miyamoto would look over his work to see if it'd been done properly. He appreciated the attention to detail and made sure he was just as attentive.

While everyone set off to their own duties, Corbeau busied himself in the ship's underbelly. Not quite the cargo hold but a little off-shoot room he called his quarters. It was small. Full of overhead pipes that he nearly brushed with the top of his head. There was a near-constant droning sound. Soft, though. An engine's hum. A whirring heartbeat. The quarters itself was cramped and didn't have much in it. But that was fine with him, because he didn't own much. It had a soft, cloth hammock tied to various pipes and a few crates where he kept a variety of his things: his clothes, a few books and his gear. A set of weights were pushed into the corner.

He'd arranged for a separate room as soon as the Captain had been kind enough to pick him up from his little rock. Night terrors. He didn't want to scare the crew right from the get-go, sitting up in his cot, screaming like a little girl. A sweaty mess. He'd learned from a young age that people generally didn't like their sleep being rudely messed with. Fortunately, the Captain had allowed it. Aside from the obvious, it also acted as a little getaway if things got too overwhelming. While he was used to living in close-quarters with very different people, sometimes he wasn't sure what to say. How to act. This room, small as it was, could be a sanctuary, if he needed it.

The bell's chime made him jump, nearly dropping the pistol he'd been cleaning in his lap. He settled a hand on his chest and exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning back so his head brushed the pipes behind him. The jackrabbit thumping of his heart beat against his fingers. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to that sound, loud as it was. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone. That something like that almost made him jump out of his skin. He set the pistol back into his shoulder holster and made for the open doorway leading into the winding hall.

It didn't take him long to meet the others at the helm and stand at the ready. More or less, for further instructions. He helped Miyamoto with the ropes and came back to linger at the railing for a moment. The ship swung over a swell of growth. Trees he'd never seen before, brightly colored.

Tthe veneer of a soldier's calm dropped from Corbeau's face when Elisia's gravely voice mentioned people in the cargo they were supposed to re-commandeer. It was enough to smother the curiosity he might've had about her voice; how she never seemed to talk beyond the unusual way she communicated through stomps and claps. He'd never questioned it before, and never would. There was a sharp intake of breath through grit teeth. Barely perceptible, unless someone was standing close enough. He narrowed his eyes and his grip on the railing tightened.

"Ublyudoks," a hiss, an ugly word. Spit like acid, rolling from his tongue into the skies. Motherfuckers. He turned to regard them, mouth set into a hard line. "Best be readying ourselves for anything then, Cap'n."

Heartfeltwords · Apr 24, 2019

Peter

Peter's casual body language stiffened and became a little more no-nonsense as the Captain's voice drew his attention to the center deck. It wouldn't do to look like a slacker in front of the boss, right? Peter's eyes lit up when he realized that Cou was standing in nearly the same spot. Forgetting all thoughts of making a good impression with the Captain, Peter grinned and waved at her. As she continued to poke, prod and make fun of the Captain--he wasn't sure she saw.

Still, Peter did his best to rein in his attention to what the Captain was telling them. Something about their mission--but really it was all the same to him where they went. He was just here to keep Cou in working order. Well, anywhere but in one place was his goal. As this fit that bill nicely. It was difficult to really listen to what the Captain had to say with Cou fluttering around him like an angry fairy. He did grin knowingly when the Captain advised him not to let Cou bully him. He had no intention of that. As Cou slipped away, Peter padded down to the belly to see what it looked like down there. Eager to start polishing things up and making a new friend.

______________________

As was often true of mechanical things--the ship's mechanical room was the hottest room on board. Though Peter would often start his shifts wearing his apron, gloves and heavy well-pocketed pants--he often ended it in his ratty undershirt. It was no different today. Peter had gone about his journey befriending the ship's core, Cou. He had rolled an old barrel he'd found inside and propped the checkers board on top, happily chattering away to the Ancklican that watched him with an arched brow. The Captain had been right--she did have a mischievous side. Had she been able to move the pieces herself, Peter suspected she would have often cheated when it suited her. Instead, between Peter keeping all the gears oiled, the core gently polished (which often made Cou blush), the pipes cleared of debris and the engines well-stoked--he taught Cou checkers and moved the pieces as she instructed for fair play.

Today, like any other day, Peter could be found in a hammock he had strung around some of the pipes near the ceiling. He was coated in sweat, a piece of cloth was tied around his head to keep sweat from his eyes, and he was fiddling with a small replica of a spider that he had fashioned out of bits of scrap. He hadn't quite gotten it to move the way he wanted yet. His tongue stuck out on one side as he concentrated.

"I dunno, Cou. This little tinkering here just may finally have me..trapped...like a fly in a web.." He said, waggling his brows playfully at Cou. Cou made an exaggerated movement with her body, physically showing her lack of affection for Peter's usual puns "Yeah--well, certain folks on board would agree with you there." He chuckled. It was then he noticed Cou perk up, urgently gesturing for him to listen. The engine room was loud; full of hisses, and the clank and thunk of mechanisms at work. Still, he listened. Faintly, he heard a bell.

"Land? Already?" Peter asked her incredulously. He swung his legs off the hammock, leaving his tinkering for later and headed above deck. He arrived just in time to hear Elisa speak--a rare treat. Peter liked the way her raspy voice sounded. He smoothed his hair back habitually, only to remember he had a cloth tied to his head. Hastily, he removed it, pocketing the sweat-soaked thing.

"A trap, ey?" Peter mused, looking thoughtful. The tension in the crew was palpable.

Below, Peter spied greenery and grinned. He looked around the group and pointed at the trees,

"Captain...shall we..disemBARK?"

Peter couldn't help himself. He grinned st his crewmates, bracing for the expected groans. Still, Peter felt confident that some crew members liked his sense of humor...especially the ladies.

MrCalcium · Apr 25, 2019

Casey Arthen

Casey looked at the large island ahead of them. She hadn't slept as to make sure they would always be heading in the right direction and when she finally got to see the crashed ship her eyes widened in excitement. She barely even noticed the Captain slamming the bell as she saw the other crew members come to life. She looked around and was surprised to finally hear Elisa talk.

When Michael said that one of them should climb to the Nest to see what is up there was no hesitation in Casey's mind that she wanted to get up to the highest point and take in the view. But as she walked past Elisa she grinned and put her hand on her shoulder for a brief moment. "You should talk more! Your voice really suits you!" She then continued on to the ladder of the Nest but her parrot flew over to Peter, repeating his pun. "DisemBARK! DisemBARK!"

As her parrot was doing this Casey was already climbing not long before reaching the top. She rubbed her tired eyes and looked around at the island before them, enjoying the feeling of the cold wind in her face. Her new pet Rabby who was hiding in her jacket's front pocket also peeked its head out. "Nothing to see so far but the ship Cap! I think we should still approach with caution though!"

Anyone that knew anything about this world knew that Casey was a unique case. She was a woman of Chinese descent with a strong Brittanian accent. However it fitted her and she was proud to call herself a Brit. Though someday she still hopes to find her real parents, the ones that brought her into this world.

Quakernuts · Apr 28, 2019

Michael Canderbar

There was always an underlying threat of something going wrong or awry with any job. It was the nature of a Freelancer, things were rarely straightforward. So when Ellie came forward, her scratching voice distinct and unmistakable, Mike listened but wasn't surprised. Admittedly, he didn't know everything about the pirate activity in the region, and had hoped her connection to the underworld of the NEC would give her more insight. If they were indeed laying in wait, using the ship as bait to grab any do-gooders, this adventure could get exciting real quick. Still, it wouldn't explain the desire to put up the contract with the Freelancers, as they were typically ready for a fight. Pirates, and slavers in particular, preferred civilian vessels. Not only for easier targets to assault, but civilian ships usually had more passive occupants, perfect for slavery. Still, he couldn't brush aside her feelings as he looked around to see a bit of tension among the others. Something breathed with the wind, and it wasn't good tidings. "Possibly Ellie, and if it is we'll have to handle it. Worst case, there's nothing and we get jumped and everyone dies." Mike nodded as if this was some kind of wisdom filled saying. "Luckily, I don't believe in worst case scenarios." Saying this with a conviction that came born out of already having seen the worst of the worst. He wasn't worried, careful sure, but worried not.

Miyamoto and Corbeau were the ones to voice caution, and Mike stared off into the distance. He wasn't disregarding them, quite the opposite in fact. He was doing his best to convey a sense of unflappability. If he could joke about their doom and otherwise not seemed phased, he hoped it would rub off on his crew to approach the situation with a sense of purpose and confidence. To be scared or otherwise distracted could lead to people making mistakes...crucial mistakes. Peter appeared from beneath the deck where he had spent most of his time as Casey made her way up towards the crow's nest. Disembark? Mike looked over at Peter, physically resisting the urge to groan and slap the man across the back of the head, only to give a very deadpan look as Casey's parrot mimicked the badly timed pun master. Mike chose not to answer Peter, allowing his silence to speak for him as all puns deserved the same such treatment. Still, Casey spoke up about having found the target, and Mike looked in the direction she specified.

Sure enough, near the edge of the island was the telltale trail of a crash, complete with destroyed trees, gouged ground, scattered wildlife and the undeniable expectation of dead bodies. The ship itself lay on its side, easily twice the size of Cou and shattered beyond all reasonable repair. At this point, it was worth more as scrap than it was a ship, as several pieces of it lay strewn along the path it had left behind in its wake. Honestly, it was surprising that the ship had crashed on an island to begin with, maybe the pilot and captain of the vessel had been hoping to survive and not fall into the fog below, but looking at the carnage it was obvious that the impact most likely killed everyone aboard. If there were survivors, well they would have had to survive at least a week, most likely more as the ship was only found a few days ago. It wasn't specified if it had released a distress signal using the onboard telegraph, there was a good chance that they never had the opportunity given the state of the crash.

The island itself was still fairly large, and the trail of debris had disrupted several portions of the forest which the island ancilikan seemed to not have gotten around to fixing yet, if it even wanted to. This forced the pilot to land the ship and anchor several clicks away as the trees still standing blocked them from lowering the ladders to a respectable height (without having to drop about 15-20 feet) and the debris ensured that even should they try that, there was a good chance of injury from the landing. Picking a spot several clicks away, they could easily see the ship off in the distance. As Cou came to a stop and settled in for a bit of a rest, Mike watched as the others threw rope ladders over the side, the ends of the ladders just brushing the ground at the perfect height. Mike pulled out his revolvers one at a time, checking the rounds and making sure they were loaded. He also slid his sword from his sheath partially, more out of habit than any need to inspect the blade. Confident in his own loadout and capability, he swirled his finger in the air, signalling for everyone to gather round.

"Alright, time to see what we see. Peter, Corbeau, you're with me. We're going to check the ship, get those documents and jewels and, if possible, figure out a cause of crash aside from 'it looks messed up'." Mike nodded, looking over to Miyamoto. "Mimi, you have the helm with Ellie, Adelaide and Casey. Hold down the fort and should there be any surprises...well, deal with them. Send up a signal flare if you think it's something bad and hopefully we'll see it and double time it back." Mike stated, looking between the home team before moving over to the ladders. "It should only take us a few minutes to get to the ship on foot, then another few minutes to search it. If we're gone more than an hour, assume something has happened, most likely bad." Mike stated as he watched Peter and Corbeau slip over the edge with the ladders. He gave a nod towards Miyamoto and climbed down the ladder himself, reaching the ground rather quickly. "Alright, Cmon, let's go see what the damage is."

As Mike thought, it only took them a few minutes to reach the ship. It was a mess to look at, but it was surprisingly mostly upright with a slight slant to the right. Looking around, Mike saw that it was because it had landed on some very sturdy trees, although it seemed almost impossible for it to do that considering the trail left. Maybe the Ancilikan of the island had done it, propping the ship up itself. Regardless, all it did was make their job slightly easier. The ship was easily twice the size of Cou, meaning more rooms to search and a longer job time. It appeared to have 3 decks, including the top one, so one for every one of them. "I'll take the top deck, search the Captain's cabin for what we're looking for. Peter, you take the second deck, the Ancilikan Core should be there. Be on the lookout for some Russian papers along with a pretty swanky looking necklace, but see if you can't find out a cause for a crash. Corbeau, you have the bottom deck. Check the hold as well, there might be some materials that survived that we can hock back at port." Mike pulled out a revolver, keeping it at the ready.

"Remember to keep Ellie's words in your mind, there's a good chance this is some kind of slaver trap, so be prepared." Mike gave a nod before continuing forward, heading towards one of the many holes in the hull for entry. "Alright let's go."

happymech99 · May 2, 2019

While the ship continued to progress further above the massive island, Miyamoto had shifted his gaze down along the path of destruction that the ship in question had caused upon the island while he stood on the deck of the Cou de Saint. With the clear sight of how the ship was much larger than that of the ship he was on at the moment simply by the sight of how many of the trees had been torn apart while the ground itself was dug into as though it were paper, there was no doubt that this most likely caused plenty of disruption in the ecosystem below.
Slowly, the dark haired male reached his mechanical arm up to touch his chest as the sight of the unknown ground below only brought back memories of his scars that were best forgotten, yet they continued ache every so often.

As the ship eventually reached a fair distance from their destination that would be a safer decent for those who were going to check up on the target at hand, Miyamoto prepared himself for the decent and travel before being instructed that he was actually going to stay aboard the ship and fire a flare if anything were to occur as well as informing that if they were gone longer than an hour something bad might've happened. Rather than complain about such an order, Miyamoto nodded his head before deciding to cross his arms and lean himself against the mast of the ship. "Alright Cap'n, just...watch your backs out there. After a crash like that, there is no doubt we had to disturb a few homes down there...and I'm sure they won't be too happy about any of us walking over the remains of their homes." As he spoke, his gaze followed as one after another of the scouting team helped themselves off the side of the ship and straight down the ladders.

With the Captain gone and orders simply to wait for their return, Miyamoto continued to lean against the mast of the ship for the next few minutes in wait for the return of the rest of the crew so that they could leave the island.

While he stood there, the last thing Miyamoto would've expected was the sudden approach of the projected form of Cou herself floating out of nowhere from above the mast in front of him. Staring at the projected form almost as though he were looking straight through her rather than directly at the Ancilikan, she ended up waving her hand in front of his face as though she were attempting to get his attention rather quickly and in a slight concerned manner. He never understood how or why he was born with such an ability to be able to see the projections of the Ancilikan when so little others could ever see them.

It wasn't till Cou ended up pointing to the side of the ship did Miyamoto actually turn his head to see what appeared to had been another ship approaching theirs. "What the--..." Questioning himself at the sight of the ship that had been approaching, it clearly showed signs of recent battle and attempts at repairs at their damaged ship. Eyeing the ship as it came to a slow hovered halt beside the Cou de Saint, Miyamoto was the first to approach the side just to examine the damage and the clear sight that the crew was still exhausted from their recent battle.

Moments went by as a muscular dark skinned male stepped down from the wheel of the ship just to come face to face with Miyamoto. Clearly, the man towered over Miyamoto at about 6'5' and had a massive single slash scar going down his right eye that he kept closed. He wore a large leather black coat that he kept unbuttoned to reveal that he wore nothing else underneath to reveal his solid chest that also was covered in battle scars of all sorts; no doubt to show the clear signs of experience in battle over the years as a threat to enemies probably.

"Where is your Captain?...We are in need of assistance. Our ship has just been in a scrap with a few pirates and we are in need of desperate repairs and supplies." As the larger male spoke in his deep and almost demanding tone, even with the sight of the white flag that they waved, this seemed suspicious. "Our Captain is not here at the moment...We're on a job. He will be back momentarily. For now, I am the commanding officer of this ship. As for assistance..." He paused mid sentence just to direct his gaze over towards the rest of the crew in wonder of what their opinion might be on this situation before returning his gaze to the dark male. "We do have some extra supplies that we could lend. Have some of your men come over and we can help with carrying over some."

After agreeing to help the mysterious stranger, the dark male only grinned only to nod his head as he waved for his crew to come aboard the Cou de Saint and grab what they were allowed to grab. All the while, Miyamoto kept his gaze locked onto the stranger with a frown even as the Captain continued to keep his grin spread across his face. Eventually turning his back to the mysterious Captain, he made his way over towards the three remaining female crew members; the entire time, his attention followed that of the crew that consisted mainly of men as they headed into the interior of the ship. "Hey...keep an eye on them and the Captain. Something...doesn't seem right..." Speaking in a hushed tone just enough so that the crew nor the Captain wouldn't be overhearing him, soon after Miyamoto followed after the men into the interior of the ship just to make sure they didn't attempt to sabotage or take more than they should.

Life in the Sky IC

Quakernuts

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Quakernuts

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Rosé Moon

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happymech99

Broken But Never Forgotten

Yonni

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Heartfeltwords

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MrCalcium

Edgepeasant

Periwinkle

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Rosé Moon

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happymech99

Broken But Never Forgotten

Yonni

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Heartfeltwords

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Quakernuts

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happymech99

Broken But Never Forgotten

Rosé Moon

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Yonni

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Heartfeltwords

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MrCalcium

Edgepeasant

Quakernuts

Guest

happymech99

Broken But Never Forgotten