Landlocked - The Scarlet Hydra, 27th of Chryil, MT

[Ezekiel Lee]

Zeke returned the westerner's level gaze with one of his own, and then stubbornly pouted in thought, his eyes resting nominally on the little lump of gold. The Mouthies (fictional or no) that apparently knew of this great treasure added an extra level of complexity, and Ezekiel found himself weighing the worth of his own skin against that of a woman made entirely of gold... not an easy decision to make for a thoughtful man to make.

Assume fer a moment there is a treasure, an' this sea dog was not jus' too full of bilge water fer 'is own good... if these Mouthies... an' assume they exist, like as the treasure... 'f they get there first, the best we can hope fer is a difficult, dangerous, an' ultimately wasted trip. At worst, we all join the fate of this dog's shipmates. Clapped in irons, off ta World's Mouth, an' then the last dance on Tyburn's tree*.

On th' other 'and, a treasure a' that size wasted in the paws a' Mouthies is a tragedy, an' wasted in the 'ands of any a' these other dogs is worse. If it can be 'ad, if it exists at all, it is us should 'ave it. Aye. So the question be not, is it worth the trip? Fer the answer t'that is surely yes. The question is... does this dog speak the truth...?

Ezekiel paused in his musings and eyed the westerner, as if he might see through the man and find the truth lying beneath. After a moment, he huffed through his nose dismissively, and got to his feet. "Mads be right in his estimation. Ye be fulla shit an' bilgewater. Ye can fuck yerself wiv ya pretty stories." With this he nodded to the man, a sneer of distain across his bloody face, and took his leave from the table abruptly, returning to the bar and his beer without pause.

There were other reasons behind this action, of course. Master Lee did not necessarily believe the gentleman from Roque was full of shit, exactly, but he counted the risk as too high and the gain too unlikely. Besides, there was more than one way to skin a cat, and he felt a plan forming.

*Tyburn's tree - a gallows. Refers specifically to the famous triple 'tree' which stood at Tyburn (near present-day Marble Arch, London) from 1571 until the 18th century, but can also be used to refer to gallows generally, as in this case.

[Charlotte Estella Riddens]

Estella followed Ezekiel with her eyes as the pirate made up his mind and returned to the bar. Ezekiel no doubt was more experienced in dealings like this than herself, and she would be unwise to underestimate the advice his exit formed.

"Well, mister..." the girl continued, not really reassured by the answers the man offered. Though if he's playin', he's playin' damn good. "Provided all this is in hand, provided this treasure is found...what the fuck do you do next? Sail back into Nether's Gate with the entire heap of gold? That's havin' you robbed empty and skinned at best, and more probably a dead man too. Especially..." The girl eyed this mate Mads and Ezekiel over at the bar. "Especially when you likely have just announced your little expedition for the entire pirate community."

After two months in the Hydra, Estella had few illusions when it came to what pirates felt to be below their dignity...which was nothing, really. And while Ezekiel might be a nice chip, the girl was pretty sure he'd take advantage of the information if he saw an opportunity. "They're gonna make sure to know what vessel you set out with, and they're gonna be looking when you come back." They would have to set out with two ships, one secretly and one in the open, lose anyone trying to follow them out of curiosity, then swap ships and return with the gold in the vessel none knew about...or something in that direction. But such a plan was complicated, and complicated plans were never good.

"Next," Estella continued, picking up after the lessons of Ezekiel and not leaving the man a breather. "I say the shares - potentially - are one and a half to one...in favour of the crew. That is, we divide up equally for each and everyone, then everybody picks the appropriate amount from your lot so that in the end each crew member gets one and a half of your share. That's only reasonable, it being us taking the risks. Also, one of us get to know the exact location of this treasure before we set off."

Now, Estella wasn't all too familiar with pirate articles and share distribution, but she knew that these must surely be entirely unreasonable terms...which was exactly the point. The crew getting more than the lead-man ought be unheard of, and revealing his alleged secret before sailing off would be extremely unwise and putting the whole mission at a big risk. If the fellow accepted to these points, that either meant he was up to no good and didn't care one shit about the gold (which in this case probably never existed), or that he was too petty a boy to be trusted sailing with. Either way, Estella's answer would be no. If he turned out to have some sense though, and provided a doable plan on the other issues, she might just be interested.

"Not negotiable," the girl added. "This ought be more than fair."

[Marcello di Angelo]

Marcello was busy readjusting his package as he came down the stairs, running into sailors folding ladies clothing. In an a good mood he laughed "Hey now lads, are you going to dress the part?" As he reached down the stairs, all comfortable again, he gave half a smile upon the chest. "Well, a circlet for the lad that delivers the chest to the lady upstairs. Not her fault she can't stand up on her two feet." It was a rude kind of compassion. After all Marcello had cut the clothes she was wearing to pieces and she was not likely to get up like that. He threw the circlet up the air with a laugh, not really bothering to see who took up his challenge. Likely the rover that did would demand a little hospitality from the girl as well.

Marcello hadn't been that worried about his own chest. It contained naught but his clothes. His money and his knives were on his person, and who really cared about the rest?

[Grant]

It was a curious thing, but the fishermen didn't entirely fight over Marcello's rather handsome offer. One did accept, though, taking up the coin and shouldering the chest in a proper, seaman-like manner. He disappeared towards the stairs, leaving his mates...one of whom considered Marcello more carefully. As a matter of fact, it was guilt that could be seen upon him, guilt for going through the woman's things. "Well...I reckon she's got plenty of coin, what with her boat tied up at the Nets. A runner, that one, or I'll be damned."

Runner was a clever way of saying smuggler, and it wouldn't be surprising if a smuggling cutter were tied up at the Nets. In this particular case, The Nets meant a smaller set of docks on the West side of the island routinely used by cutters, fishing ketch, and the occasional island-hopping yawl. The facility was falling apart...it hadn't seen much repair after it was first constructed...but the island's fishermen still used it exclusively.

Convinced that he had explained his behavior adequately, the fisherman knuckled his forehead (the closest thing to a salute given among sea rovers) and turned away just as Zeke...and Annie...arrived. "Hic hic hic hic hic hic hic hic hic hic hic hic! Well, luver, it may have been the fastest affair of all time, but at least ye won't miss your tide! Hic hic hic hic hic hic hic!"

Annie wasn't the only one laughing. There were several others beaming at Marcello's antics as well...and some distance behind Zeke, the wiry little man could be heard to laugh, though for entirely different reasons.

"Hahahaha!" he choked, clearly with a throat far too raw for such a thing. Still, his mirth seemed absolutely genuine, though whether he found Estella's concerns about liquidating a ton of precious metal, giving the local pirates the slip, or the ludicrous disbursement of shares (or any combination of the three) completely hilarious was something of a mystery. Either way, it was clear that there would indeed be no further negotiation. Rising up, he waved her off as if she were a gnat. "Then back to yer lover, dear. I'm too pressed fer time ta spend anymore here."

While one of the Harpies rose to leave with a derisive snort, another one reached out. "Wait, old man. I'll sail w'you. But we need to draw up proper Articles first."

Another Harpy (one with an eye that was already darkening to black from the recent fight) nodded. "I'll go. But we rig her out fisherman style, to slip through without notice..."

"Stow yer gob, Clark!" spat the first, with a cautionary look towards the room. "Maybe we take this talk...later."

Elsewhere...

Boom. It was meant to be an announcement, but for those that had never heard the sound of a five thousand pound gun firing off, it might have seemed more like a nearby thunderclap. It could be felt in the walls, the floors, even on the air...a sound so deep and potent that it shook the very entrails, setting off every sea rover in the Scarlet Hydra like a tuning fork. "The Myrmidon made her number," came the announcement from a young boy standing by the door.

And indeed she had, her massive, dark form rounding Watch Hill as her topmen handed her knotted and torn topsails. The sound of her starboard bower crashing down was followed by the slip of it's hawser, meant to pull the vast galleon to a halt there in the offing until she could be properly rowed in...or perhaps bowsed by a single anchor until ready to set sail, depending on her Captain's wishes. Lincoln Dupre had arrived, and judging by the condition of Myrmidon, he had seen some action.

[Charlotte Estella Riddens]

When the fellow burst out in merriment, Estella sat back in her chair, joining in with a hearty laughter. "So you've got some sense, old man..." she said immediately. Estella had always been fond of humour in getting to know people, as with Ezekiel and Marcello, and she instantly liked the man better now that he wasn't all nervosity and blank eyes. After all, you never could really trust a man who was always grave and dead serious.

"Hell," continued Estella with a wide grin, "here I was, suspecting you didn't mind shit about handing out shares and secrecy, as long as you could take us poor souls out to feed whatever sea kraken it was you had waitin' for us out there. Or - and worse! - that you weren't man to stand up to anything with those wiry looks of yours!"

That isn't to say, though, this chip is a safe bet. The man had hardly responded altogether satisfactorily to all questions, and Estella wasn't entirely sure how to interpret his sudden and somewhat odd burst of laughter either. A qualified decision, that's what I need to make, she repeated to herself.

The girl sat thinking, weighing the pros and cons, while some of the other men gave their assent and began discussing the opportunities. Then the Myrmidon announced her entry into the port, but Estella was by now far too used to Captain Dupre's spectacles to take much heed. If the boy is faking, she concluded, he belongs in a goddamn master theatre. The fellow obviously haven't handed the barmaid that clump of fine metal in case she came to show it to a potential crew member of his. That's simply too incredible. But even though the gold tale may be true, at least in the sense that there was some gold somewhere, didn't mean he wasn't up to something no good in the getting of it. That required a real clever plan though, him being only one scrawny old man and badly outnumbered.

Fuck it, goddamnit. "Okay, man, you got me," Estella announced...qualified or not.

[Marcello di Angelo]

Was it a sense that women needed protection? That they were touching what now belonged to Marcello as he owned the woman? Whatever it was, it wasn't that they thought her belongings sacrosanct. The pirate didn't pry, simply taking such behaviour in stride. It was not that unfamiliar to him.

"Ah runner, eh? You don't say," Marcello murmured thoughtful, rubbing a chin that saw several days worth of growth. It reminded him he needed urgent grooming, but the tide waits for no man. "Perhaps I ought to have a look. You could say that my family is in such a business. I might sniff out if something interesting is going down." He chuckled at that. Di Angelo was not Tazlure's most feared name, but in Roque at least it was a well known smugglers family.

Marcello grinned at Annie "It was fun while it lasted. However, I dare say she's somewhat overwhelmed by my attention. Give her a grog if she ever makes it down and tell her that Di Angelo has a place for her on his ship, when he manages to get one." He pushed some final coin towards Annie, generously paying for his fare, but not too generously. He liked settling a reputation of wealth, but not one of stupidity.

Heaving up his own sea chest he gave a final wave of farewell to Estella and Zeke 'Lets split the mainbrace together real soon, sea rovers, I'm going to check out..." There was a BOOM somewhere far away. Marcello was distracted "Si, I'm going, arriverdeci!" He waved and exited the Scarlet Hydra to see if he could find out where this was coming from, walking towards the harbor.

The Myrmidon. Now there was interesting news. Marcello kept up his pace and while observing the ship of captain Dupre, he walked towards the Nettes, torn between a current and future opportunity.

[Ezekiel Lee]

That Estella did not follow Zeke back to the bar was somewhat concerning. Not that he considered the girl more than a passing acquaintance, but he had liked her for the short time he'd conversed with her. She seemed bright and forthright, and half of him hoped she would choose to sail the Myrmidon with him; hoped she would not go on this fool's errand.

Mainly because he intended to waylay the westerner's little yacht on her way back to Nether's Gate, kill everyone aboard, and take the treasure for himself. Or rather, have Dupree do it for him.

At this point in his thoughts, the Myrmidon announced her presence in the time honoured way, and behind his beer Ezekiel smiled slightly. Dupree would, no doubt, be ashore with most of his men within a mark or two. Perhaps they would make sail by the morningtide... or perhaps sooner. Zeke did not intend to reveal his hand to the good Captain until after he'd signed articles and guaranteed his own share, of course. But he did not consider it would be too difficult to get that far. Dupree was always wanting for men.

An' mebbe, once the 'ands see what good I can offer 'em... He took a long swig of his beer. Mmmm. Le's not get ahead of ourselves, eh. Plenty a'time fer mutiny aboard the Myrmidon later...

"So, Annie..." Zeke addressed the barmaid for lack of better conversation in that slow and measured way he had, "Appears I been abandoned by all but ye, an' thank the gods fer good barmaids. Ya heard any news besides the madman over yonder?"

[Grant]

"Oh, dear me, hun, news is always comin' in," replied Annie to Zeke with a casual wave. She already took stock of who would be working for the rest of the day, and how much short beer they had. The Myrmidos* were known to be a thirsty bunch. "I've heard rumor that the Wolf Pack is fittin' out for sea just this mornin'tide. Somethin's got 'em all fired up," she started, though who or what the Wolf Pack might be was a mystery to Zeke. "I also heard that a fisherman from Nettingston hired a ride to the 'Gate today, rich as King Melchior ever was with a pocket full of gold! Says he found it in the belly of a shark caught up in 'is nets, he did! I also heard rumor that Thanion been seen sailin' near the Maw**, but that's prolly just talk. Ain't no one senseless enough to go near them cursed isles..."

Annie paused while she refilled Zeke's cup and got a bit of bitter for herself. "I reckon we'll hear a few more things from the Myrmidos when they pull in, but not much. Cap'n Dupre is a sweety, but he don't often catch much. Half the boats swingin' from Mymidon's davits were added recently, what with him hopin' that they'll be able to do more in shore work. He might juss take 'er into the Mer with so many sloops aboard."

Elsewhere...

While Marcello departed the Hydra to seek out the Nets, Estella officially joined a new Company. Of course, her Company was unusual in that it didn't have a proper name...not yet at least...but they had what appeared to be five members, and what amounted to a plan. And there were five, all told. Three ex-Harpies, the old man, and Estella...enough hands to manage a boat, but only just.

"Well," murmured the old man quietly, once the remainder of the departing Harpies were gone. Eying his shipmates gratefully, he finally introduced himself. "My name is Puddings. Tom "Puddings" Muller, formerly of the Seeker, just arrived in these parts. Let's just say...the Seeker was Royal Oak until a while back when we all decided she needed a Mark***. Pilot."

"I'm Clark," murmured one of the ex-Harpies, a compact, muscular man with wide, calloused hands from hauling rope. He glanced at the wiry, old man with perhaps a bit more respect now that knew the man's ship-side discipline. "Fred Clark. Topman, rated able."

"Bill Riley, able," added another, a dusky-hued man that must have hailed from Muchislie. He didn't offer much more than able to his credentials, but the recent altercation had proven him to be a particularly good hand at head-breaking as well. Riley was clearly valued as a boarder.

"Paul Preston. They call me Peter Sharply. Carpenter's Mate," added the last, a rather moderately-built man with short, cropped hair already turned to silver despite his rather youthful vigor (and the darkening ring around his blackened eye).

All four of Estella's shipmates turned to the girl who would be their fifth. Based on the skills already included...pilot, topmen, carpenter...they almost had enough to run a smaller yacht all on their own. Indeed, they could look for more...but they wouldn't need for anything.


_____________________


* That they were called Myrmidos was another strange colloquialism typical of Nether's Gate. Every sailor joined to a Company was typically identified by that Company...or more specifically, their ship. Crewmen aboard the Attica were known as the Atticas, while crewmen aboard the Myrmidon were commonly known as Myrmidos. In some cases, these names could be subject to some discretion, such as the case of the Roark's Revenge. The crewmen would have preferred to be called something like Revengers, or Avengers, or perhaps just Vengers...but instead, they were called Roarks...and until they made a great name for themselves, they would go on being called Roarks. As for the Lady Rose, well, their names tended to change depending on circumstances. If they came ashore in large numbers, they were respectfully called Roses. On the other hand, if there were precious few of them nearby, they were more commonly called Ladies...a circumstance that often left several sea rovers bruised, broken, bloodied, and sometimes dead.

** The Maw consists of a set of islands off the western coast of the Western Kingdoms, stretching out into the ocean following the equator. Due to the unique location of the islands and the inherent nature of the weather along that latitude, ships attempting to cross the line there frequently get becalmed in a perfect, clock calm...and are subsequently snapped up by nearby orscar tribes. For this reason alone, the Dortese Main curls around the Southern tip of the Western Continent instead of the North.

*** Needing a Mark was a pleasant way to say that the ship was lost to piracy due to mutiny or insurrection from within. The obscure phrase came from the time-honored tradition of warning the Captain prior to the mutiny by giving him a Black Mark (a symbol commonly associated with a man marked for death or mutiny). This unusual circumstance often came when a crew was driven to piracy not by just greed, but also by an abusive, tyrannical Captain. It was considered unwise to ask too many details regarding a sailor with this kind of history due to the extreme punishment often given Naval Mutineers...and those that harbor them knowingly.

[Ezekiel Lee]

Zeke laughed at Annie's words, "Aye! I hope someday to catch me a shark a' that calibre! Every time I sit t'a dinner a' fish I pray the gods send me such a bounty when I open 'er up, fer it seems t'happen t'every man but me!" He shook his head, grinning. "Mebbe I should give up the rover's life an' get me a net?" The other news he took stoically enough, believing in the rumours of Thanion as much as Annie did, and nodding as she spoke of the Myrmidos. Indeed, he hoped to see them in the Hydra shortly, with their Captain among 'em.

He glanced sidelong at Estella as it appeared his ex-shipmates were making their introductions, drawing up a pact perhaps. Inwardly, he sighed. Tis a terrible shame.

"What is this Wolf Pack of which ye speak, dearie?" Ezekiel eventually asked Annie after a long mouthful of beer, with typical slowness of thought. One could say his mind was like a deep pool, that took thoughts a long time to rise to the surface from the murky depths. Less kind observers might merely reason that the pool was shallow; the thoughts sluggish and illformed for swimming. Regardless of which, it always took the man a long time to think things through - anything of import, at least, ought to be allowed time to settle on the bottom for a burn or two. "I don't believe I 'eard that name a'fore..."

[Charlotte Estella Riddens]

"Estella Riddens," the girl said, and began summarizing into crew labels the various ship duties she had performed since as long back as she could remember. "Been servin' as topman, purser...second mate, at times...wherever I'm needed. Pleased to meet ya all."

Tom, Clark, Bill, Peter...and herself. Some crew, Estella mused. "What's next? Or more precisely - in what order?" They would need a vessel, obviously, as well as the necessary ship equipment and provisions, including fresh water. And then there were the Articles to be agreed on, and she presumed they may be first on the list, considering the pretty much sacred status these had with pirates, so much the girl had gathered. Having little experience with drawing up such (truth to be told, Estella didn't even really consider herself a pirate), Estella was happy to let the other men handle this. Besides, she could neither read nor write, though whether they used to bother about scribbling the Articles on a piece of paper, she had no idea.

For her own part, Estella was also pondering on at some point getting her hands on a decent sea map of the Greater Rands, where this treasure supposedly lay waiting, and extending towards the Gate. For all his solid performances, and his claims of being able to go blindfolded to this place, Estella didn't trust this so-called Tom Muller, and while on sea, she wanted to know exactly where they were sailing.

[Grant]

"I already got us a boat waitin' out of sight," murmured Puddings. Puddings, while a curiously non-threatening name, was actually something of a joke among sea-going folk. A pudding was a slang term for fenders used to protect a ship against brushing or swiping up against another. For a pilot, it was rather apt, and very typical of sea-going irony. "She's been fit out, and waitin' well out of sight. We'll need to collect at the Nets tomorrow before sun up...maybe four marks into Gravetide...to catch a ride out to her. That should dump any interested parties that might have learned a bit too much."

"I'll draw up the articles," offered Preston, one of the few people in the tiny crew that actually could read and write. "Nothin' special for now. Just an equal share for all, plus the usual bits against betrayal and double-cross. I'll read 'em out tomorrow when we're about to set sail, if that'll do for you all."

"What type of boat, Tom? Can the five of us hand her?" asked Riley.

"Yeah. Thirty foot job, rigged as a ketch. She'll pass as a fisherman. She's sloop-rigged, but we needn't drop the course if we don't feel the need. She's weatherly enough, but I doubt we'll want to see too much weather with just the five of us."

"The rest of us should keep our eyes open for a few more hands, just to be safe," added Clark. "I'd be happier with eight or ten, but not much more. No real risk in it, boyos...they either agree to the terms this Gravetide, or they stay ashore. I don't want Tom tellin' his story again, just to be safe. Shouldn't be too many others in the know about this, but it don't hurt ta be cautious. Agreed?"

Elsewhere...

"The Wolf Pack? Not a lot known about 'em yet, save that they're right hard Navy bastards," replied Annie easily. "A squadron of Royal ships, from what I hear...probably Roque-built. Sweet lines and crisp cuts, all of 'em...and not a one over eighty tons. I heard there was five of 'em, but that's probably all piss an wind. More like three, I bet, an lead by a proper Commodore. They been seen workin the Roque Bay, chasin' rovers and orscars away from the cost and snappin' up prizes fast as you please. They don't come out into the Dusk Sea much...usually seen guardin' a few Royal ships through the Neck...but I heard from a reliable fellow that they be fittin' out for somethin special. Might even be ta sea already..."

At the entrance...

The first of the Myrmidos arrived. Two of them were orcs...clearly orscars of some heritage, given the extensive complexity of their tattoos and soul lines, while the rest were a motley bunch of mixed heritage. An adhiel woman lacking her right eye gazed around the room in familiar contempt flanked by another adhiel of rather few yahren...perhaps little more than an adolescent. Four humans, each one sporting a rather impressive coat, were gathered within. The notorious Captain Lincoln Dupre was rather easy to spot, as he was (strangely enough) the least imposing character of the bunch. His rail-thin physique and rapier-like demeanor matched the thin duelling foil at his side, and his coat clung to his tall, scrawny form rather tightly.

One of the orcs motioned to a vacant table opposite the Harpies, and the group moved in that direction. Not surprisingly, talk within the Hydra quieted to some degree, as a new governor had just taken seat in Nether's Gate. Lincoln Dupre might have been a lot of things, but he was a Captain...and the three hundred men at his command gave him all the power a man could want on the tiny island.

[Charlotte Estella Riddens]

"Agreed." Collecting the necessary information on the boat and on the meet-up at the Nets the following night, Estella grinned at her new mates and stood up. "Looking forward to get to know ya proper, fellows, but I guess we're better off not staying too long lookin' mysterious at this table. Until tonight, right?"

At this point, the vanguard of the Myrmidon crew began shuffling in, and Estella grabbed her things and took the opposite direction. There's a couple, she thought with a smile, when she briefly spotted Ezekiel and Annie the barmaid in easy conversation at the bar. They'd be good for each other, she reasoned...a lovely couple...with a good portion of mirth at the scenario. Estella had become fond of both of them, and it was a pity the former had come to the conclusion the possible gains of the venture she herself had just signed onto was not worth the risks involved. Estella wondered if the likeable pirate had decided otherwise if it was him Annie had happened to show off Pudding's random gold to, but concluded that he probably had not.

Indeed, not only a pity, but representing a considerable reminder to stay alert, the girl concluded. And, indeed, to drop out the moment something was not quite right. Only sad that dropping out was significantly harder while far to sea than on land. With a half-troubled, hard-thinking expression, Estella exited the Hydra.

[Ezekiel Lee]

Zeke nodded at Annie's words, wondering if this Wolf Pack were moving out to take the gold the westerner had spoken of. If they were, the Nether's Gate treasure hunters would be in for a tough time, and silently he wished them luck. For if they fell to the Royal pirate hunters, there would be no treasure for the Myrmidon to take, either.

"Y'say they guard the entrance ta Roque? Y'think that's where they hail from, an' where they lay anchor...?" Ezekiel was vaguely curious as to where they called home, for while taking on the Pack at sea would surely be suicide if they were as good as Annie reported, taking one at port would be an almost unequalled prize. And, like most sea rovers, Zeke harboured a dream of being Captain of his own ship some day. What better or more appropriate than to cut one of the Royal's finest from harbour? Inwardly, the young pirate smiled at the thought.

At this point, the first of the Myrmidos showed up, drawing Master Lee's attention immediately. Taking a swallow of his beer, he followed Dupree and his men with his eyes. It would not be appropriate to go directly over and harrass the Captain for placement, not before he'd had a chance to rest his feet and have a drink or two, but after they had settled it would surely not be too hard to find audience. Or perhaps, wait until the good Captain advertised for men himself, if he would do such a thing... and he might well, always lacking hands as he did.

[Grant]

"I don't reckon, no," replied Annie evenly. "I never knew Roque to 'ave much trouble at sea, much less ta need a navy the likes of them. Probably King's ships, out of the Court. Maybe a privateer, what with a mark* from His Majesty, though it can't be worth too much what w'the little bastard bein' dead an all. Maybe they work for some rich noble? Not the Council, what with their fallin'out with the Royals, but ma'ap some rich bastard like the Hammerlees out a Roque or the Eisenreichs out a the Court?"

There were few places in the world where one might refer to the late King Balthasar I as "the little bastard". Nether's Gate was clearly top on that list, the term meant to be as much a slander as a form of affection. After all, everyone knew that Nobles were all into buggery...and everyone knew that they slept with whoever...or whatever...presented itself. Annie didn't know that, in this particular case, the late King actually was a bastard. The thought never crossed her mind. Curiously, if she even suspected it to be true, she would have hesitated to call him one.

In addition, Annie mentioned a couple known families in the Western Kingdoms that might produce the funds and interest to carry out a private war against piracy. While the Hammerlee ships were a new and largely unknown factor along the Dortese Main, they had put enough tonnage to sea to consider protecting their risk. The Eisenreich faction was a rather well-known connection that dated back to the old days of the Thanion. Rumor (the kind of rumor that tended to be true) had it that the Than himself held a Letter of Marque issued by the Kind of the Western Kingdoms, for use as leverage...and produced for him by none other than Duke Eisenreich himself, the acting Regent of the Kingdom. Eisenreich was known to underwrite and fund many Rover Companies, both for defense of the Kingdom as well as his own personal gain. The Wolf Pack might have been another of these, though more legal now that Duke Eisenreich was no longer the untouchable regent he had been.

Following Zeke's eyes over to the newcomers, she smiled. "Oh, aye...I seen that look before, boyo. He's tougher than he looks. He'll take you on...but don't underestimate 'im. Only a right hard tar could ha' kept the Myrmidon to sea as long as he has. She was ripe for the knacker's yard** yahren ago. If'n ya want to say hello, well, you can take 'im 'is drinks..." Annie shrugged. "...won't bother me none. If'n ya do, I'll throw in an extra one fer you."


* A Letter of Mark, or Letter of Marque (for those who like frilly spelling). A Marked captain is not called a Sea Rover, as his actions are nominally sanctioned by the issuing government or organization. These gentlemen are commonly called Privateers, which is little more than a nautical mercenary. Naturally, Letters of Mark are popular as forgeries, as they can save an entire Rover crew from the gallows if the Captain just happened to produce a mark issued from the right government.

** By this, Annie means that the Myrmidon is considered unsafe, and should be "decommissioned" and broken up (ideally at a "Knacker's Yard" where her usable lumber and metal parts would be recycled). Worn wood, weak knacks, even rot and mold all contribute to end a ship's life as much as, if not more than, any combat, fires, or storms.

[Ezekiel Lee]

"Mmm,"was Zeke's non-committal reply. Annie was not just a source of gossip, but also existed at the very hub of Nether's Gate, and thus was probably one of the better educated of its occupants... at least in certain political matters... so her insight into such matters was likely to be accurate. Rather than comment further, Ezekiel's stoic and thoughtful nature meant he merely filed the information away for future reference with a cheerful grin to the lady in thanks.

More, Annie's words made sense; it was more likely, given the nature of the Western Kingdom at the moment, that this Wolf Pack consisted of sailors hired by independent families, rather than mere navy vessels funded by the King. It would likely be cheaper for one, and for another, given the Kingdom's recent war it seemed likely there would be many ex-soldiers and sailors of all kinds looking for work, and little place for them to go (or money with which to pay them). War was expensive, and the Western Kingdom was only just recovering - its experienced and no doubt restless men becoming mercenaries and privateers seemed an entirely reasonable course of action on their part, and on the part of the Kingdom itself. There would be many men for hire, and surely Zeke himself had seen a few drifting to Nether's Gate, too. Not jus' Westerners, neither...

The Wolf Pack was not the most pressing concern at present, though. Dupree was far more immediate, in both proximity and importance (for no sea rover need worry about privateers and pirate hunters if he could not get his ass to sea).

To Annie's suggestion, Zeke grinned broadly and replied, "Surely they'll prefer yer figure ta mine, sweet'eart? I'll make a poor barmaid - ain't got the hips fer it!" He laughed, and got to his feet anyway, pushing stray hair from his face. "I ain't so concerned that 'll pass up a free beer, though, love... 'm guessin' the Myrmidos'll jus' have ta suffer me inferior rump..." The Dortman winked, and pushed a lance across the bar towards her - a tip for the information more than the beer. "Yer company 'as, as always, been charmin'... an' I thank ye fer it."

With this, he took the tray of drinks easily, hoisting them above his shoulder, and meandered his way across the bar to Dupree's table. "Mates, an' Captain," He introduced himself easily, with a grin, "'m hopin' y'won't mind me intrusion, given that I come offerin' beer." Zeke slid the tray onto the table, demonstrating his offer true enough. "Though perhaps I ain't as pretty as a barmaid, I confess I ain't much trained in such business. I was hopin' to be of more help at sea, if ye'll entertain the notion, sir." This with a small nod to Dupree, a motion of respect.

[Grant]

The only real certainty Link had was that Linasis had already snapped up all the good hands ashore. Linasis had a reputation to overcome, but he could still hire hands...and now that Roark's Revenge was ready to sail (assuming she could be pulled clear of the strand), it seemed likely that Nether's Gate would clear out fast by morningtide's first light. It wasn't a great time for the Myrmidon to make port. There were precious few hands ashore...and most of her current crew wouldn't be pleased to spend much time here instead of out there, earning their fortunes.

What I really need is a lucky break, thought the Captain as he settled himself at one of many available tables in the Hyrdra. Lucky breaks could go either way, though. Lincoln Dupre was one of perhaps five people sailing the Dusk Sea that knew the truth about Ryelocke's recent situation aboard the Attica...and why every single adhiel had jumped shipped the moment the rumor started. Indeed, luck could go either way...and Rover Captains had a tendency to see the extremes of both.

But there were good runs of luck, too. For example, beers arrived without so much as a by-your-leave, and brought by at least one of the land-locked sailors still in Nether's Gate. "Have a seat and share 'em out, swab..." motioned the Captain easily, clearly still very uncomfortable with the unyielding, unmoving earth beneath him (a common occurence after spending some time at sea).

Link was of two minds about the offer. Normally, Link would be pitching the Company to the guest...not the other way around. That was just curious enough to distract Captain Dupre from the annoying fact that they were still drinking rather fine Imperial Beer (not quite Dortese...or perhaps a lesser-known Dortese supplier) stolen by Captain Linasis, or perhaps Captain Darkheart. Those two were pulling in Shining scores every other week, and it left Link perfectly jealous of their success. The only thing Link had to off-load today were woolens.

Woolens! scowled the swarthy pirate. Warmest waters in the world, and we capture WOOL. Link almost sunk it to the bottom, but he needed the crap to swap for new sheets (possibly made from wool, curiously enough). "So tell me a story, mate. Why are you servin' out beers for Annie? Did you lose a bet to her? You didn't...arm-wrestler her, did you??"

[Ezekiel Lee]

Zeke laughed, claiming a stool for his own with cheerful aplomb, and a beer shortly after. He was perfectly capable of being polite to Lincoln Dupree, and indeed, intended to be (it would be very foolish not to be unless one wanted stringing up in a hurry); but he was not one to cowtow as though he were intimidated by the man, like some frightened little girl in the presence of teacher. Respect and intimidation were two very different things, after all, and pirates did not get very far in their careers by behaving like frightened little girls... Ezekiel had never been easily frightened (or a girl); he was far too sensible.

"No bet lost, Capt'n sir, nor no arm-wrestlin' neither! I surely don't look foolish enough ta wrestle 'er...? An' if I did, I'd hope if I lost I'd at least lie about it..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Far more mundane, sir. I merely wanted ta introduce meself. Y'see, Linasis' offered me terms already... an' I only 'ad ta hit three a' four of his men ta get 'em! But I confess, 'm a picky man. I'm lookin' fer somethin' with a bit more, mmm... stature."

The young rover paused to take a swallow of his beer, grinning cheerfully. "At least if yer tell me ta sling me hook, I gotta place ta go, albeit a rather tiny one." Zeke shrugged easily, and then indicated himself, "Ezekiel Lee, former topman a' the Black Harpy afore she were sent ta the knackers yard, an' our crew disbanded, like. As fer me tale..." Zeke eyed Dupree for a short moment in silence, still grinning cheerfully. "Aye, I 'ave one, sir. But I ain't gotta Captain ta tell it to, yet, so..." He shrugged one of his loose shrugs, and awaited a response.

[Grant]

If Link had any strong opinions about Linasis, he didn't reveal them to Zeke. Of course, he did have strong opinions regarding the adhiel captain of the Roark's Revenge, but he was careful not to reveal them. It was one thing to gather up a crew using past successes, sales pitching, and outright leverage...but Linasis had racism, political fervor, and religious bias working in his favor. Every adhiel sailor that caught sight of the Roark was largely his to choose...especially the influx of refugees from Taquar. And since Linasis wasn't in any way stupid, he only promoted such a situation, even going to far as to perpetuate the rumor that he had once been an Emerald Guardsman (which was, in fact, true...but that didn't preclude him from being a coward and a deserter, too).

Instead, it was just wiser to move forward. "Well, welcome aboard the Myrmidon. Ah...the crew confirms all recruits by plurality...it's our first Article...but I've never know them to refuse an able seahand*," replied the Captain easily. Netting an able seahand was as much a boon as anything the man had to say, anyway...so it didn't take Link much time to settle the matter of berthing. "Troy...show 'im our contract so 'e can get familiar wi'em."

One of the massive orcs near Linc nodded and reached at the pendant hanging around his massive neck. And massive it was, too...in so much as the great creature even had a neck. A sharp, pointed, almost reptilian-shaped face toward well over a gleaming, black, orcish body...a body free of the customary tattoos and wards traditionally seen covering local orscar examples of his race. Instead, Troy's body was covered in scars...the kind of cuts and burns that could only come from a lifetime of solid action.

And Troy's surprises didn't end with his curious, unusual origins. Opening his pendant, he removed what could only be his own Articles...a document so tattered and sea-worn that it might have been mistaken for some old map in some fantasy tale. He unfolded his Articles and then read them, as if to be sure he had collected the right document...another unusual abberation from an orc who had bothered to learn to read...before he slid the document** before Zeke.

"I'm Captain Lincoln Dupre, as you know. This is Troy, the Quartermaster..." an orc Quartermaster was as likely as an adhiel miner, but it did explain a few things...such as how Linc managed to maintain control of his ship. "...have a look, and then tell me your story. Hell...if it's good enough, I'll buy you another beer just for the entertainment."



* - In fact, there were precious few occasions in which a Company would vote against new recruits...and that was typically done for all potential recruits prior to a large haul or a paying-out. Curiously, the Myrmido's practice of voting on new recruits was somewhat unnecessary given that the Company also had a provision requiring the Company to remain together until each hand would receive at least twenty five crowns upon pay-off. The Myrmidon was one of several Sea Rover Companies with such a clause included in their Articles.

** - The Myrmidon's Articles of Agreement read as follows:
I. Every man has a vote in affairs of moment; has equal title to the fresh provisions, or strong liquors, at any time seized, and may use them at pleasure, unless a scarcity makes it necessary, for the good of all, to vote a retrenchment.

II. Every man to be called fairly in turn, by list, on board of prizes because, (over and above their proper share) they were on these occasions allowed a shift of clothes: but if they defrauded the company to the value of a circlet in plate, jewels, or money, marooning was their punishment. If the robbery was only betwixt one another, they contented themselves with slitting the ears and nose of him that was guilty, and set him on shore, not in an uninhabited place, but somewhere, where he was sure to encounter hardships.

III. No person to game at cards or dice for money.

IV. The lights and candles to be put out at eight o'clock at night: if any of the crew, after that hour still remained inclined for drinking, they were to do it on the open deck

V. To keep their piece, pistols, and cutlass clean and fit for service.

VI. To desert the ship or their quarters in battle, was punished with death or marooning.

VII. No striking one another on board, but every man's quarrels to be ended on shore, at sword and pistol. (The quarter-master of the ship, when the parties will not come to any reconciliation, accompanies them on shore with what assistance he thinks proper, and turns the disputant back to back, at so many paces distance; at the word of command, they turn and fire immediately, (or else the piece is knocked out of their hands). If both miss, they come to their cutlasses, and then he is declared the victor who draws the first blood.)

VII. No man to talk of breaking up their way of living, till each had shared twenty five crowns. If in order to this, any man should lose a limb, or become a cripple in their service, he was to have eight crowns, out of the public stock, and for lesser hurts, proportionately.

IX. The captain and quartermaster to receive two shares of a prize: the master, boatswain, and gunner, one share and a half, and other officers one and quarter.

X. The musicians to have rest on the Sabbath Day (Rasday), but the other nine days and nights, none without special favour.

[Ezekiel Lee]

Ezekiel received the document from the huge orc politely enough and, sharing in Troy's unusual talent for letters, proceeded to read it most thoroughly. It would be obvious enough to all that he was doing so too, for, despite the fact that he was at least averagely competent with such things, he had never quite learned to stop his mouth from moving as he read. It was almost adorable how earnestly he studied the words, his chapped lips tracing each word silently, until, after a burn or two, he reached the conclusion and nodded to himself.

"Thank'ee, Troy. Much obliged." Zeke nodded once more as he returned the tattered paper to its keeper, thinking it wise to be polite to the quartermaster despite the fact that he was an orc; for it would be from this creature he would receive his share of any bounty the Myrmidon should capture.

"Tis a strange tale, Cap'n, an' one ye may well not believe..." Zeke shrugged broadly as was his way, "...I ain't fully sure if I believe it meself... but if be true, then it will make every one a' us rich as thieves. An' if it be false, well... then we will lose nothin'. I hope ye will see the appeal as I do!" He grinned, and then carefully stole a look around the bar before lowering his voice appropriately. It would not do to be overheard by any outside the crew.

"There is a man rolled inta the 'Gate this mornin'tide wiv a story ta rival the bards a' World's Mouth, an' lookin' fer a small crew ta chase 'is tale wiv. He claims he knows of a treasure... lemme see... over a ton, 'ee says, of gold, layin' about in the reef near the Kracken, in the middle of the Greater Rande." Zeke had memorised this part perfectly, it being the most important to his plan. Geography was always important to a sailor, and despite his slow manner, Ezekiel was no fool. "An' ee's flashin' about a piece a' this treasure all over the bar, plain as the eyes in me face. More; 'ee says they must be a' utmost speed ta their destination, fer the waisters a' World's Mouth know of it also, an' hang every rover they catch on the way by the mornin'tide, no doubt. Now..." The young pirate shrugged lazily, "I ain't sayin' the man tells the gods' truth, fer if it were that clear an' easy I woulda sailed wiv 'is crew a' six meself. But some 'ave believed 'im an' chased 'is pipe dream, an' I say... tis mighty selfish ta be sharin' such a treasure between six, if such a treasure exists. Are we not a community of likeminded men, as a one as is t'other? We are all brothers 'ere, us rovers, an' it seems unfair to leave such a thing ta just six..."

Zeke paused, aware that this sort of talk might, in some circumstances, lead to a lynching. One did not kill other pirates when there were merchants to loot; there was a sort of code for that, and suggesting such a thing openly in Nether's Gate might be foolish were Ezekiel not banking on the ill luck of Captain Dupre and the mutual greed they all shared. And everyone in Nether's Gate knew of Dupre's bad luck. It followed him like a shadow.

"If it comes ta nothin', then we lose nothin'... fer waitin' a few days at sea fer 'is yacht costs us little. I'll be bettin' the victors, be they rovers, will return directly ta Nether's Gate, an' we need merely be in their way. On land, Cap'n, I be a bettin' man, though in yer crew I shall do nothin' a' the sort!" Zeke had read that part of the Myrmidon's Articles twice. His set of cards, beautifully painted with naked ladies, might be only good for one thing at sea rather than their usual two. Terrible shame.

He sniffed, grinned, and emptied his beer. "D'ya deem the tale good enough fer another drink, Cap'n, or shall I be fishin' in my boot fer small change...?"

[Grant]

A ton of gold. Instantly, every man-jack at the table calculated what that would mean, even if it were only day-dreaming. five hundred thousand crowns, by Western weight, pondered Linc. About fifteen hundred crowns per share, considered the orc quartermaster. Exchanging a glance, they tabulated the value of the Myrmidon...which didn't quite come to one share of such a haul. It was the kind of wealth redistribution heard only in legends...and usually the kind of legends in which a dragon died.

Of course, there was a strong chance that the entire story...either Zeke's or the man from whom he heard it...was bullshit. But even if it were bullshit, if this man did come into town...and if he did hire up a small crew...then he was sailing somewhere. And that was enough to pique Dupre's interest, especially if this man were throwing wealth around. It might not actually be a ton of gold...but there had to be something out there, and one would be foolish not to take some kind of interest.

In the short silence following Zeke's account, all other eyes at the table had turned to the Captain to await his decision. Glancing up and around, Linc motioned towards the bar. "I've heard a lot of fish stories, mate, but I'll give you this. If what you say is true...and I can't imagine why you'd be lying to us, what with our Company an all...then we should check it out. Hells...we can reach the far end of the Greater Rande faster than anyone else."

That was true. While the Myrmidon was far from the most weatherly sailor in the Dusk Sea, she was big...and her masts reached well higher than most others. The light, westerly winds that favored the Dusk Sea just south of the equator would cast the big ship faster than any smaller Rover ship...and Dupre had taken it upon himself to stock plenty of launches along the Myrmidon's flanks. If she had to, she could launch her entire complement at once. That might help if he had to go ashore near the Kracken.

"If we're looking for buried treasure, well, we can handle that fine. But how in the hell are we gonna find this place?" Linc's eyes narrowed. He had already briefly considered finding whoever this strange man was and abducting him...anyone could be forced to talk...but such an action would be frowned upon within Nether's Gate itself, further eroding what credibility Linc had with the local Rover community. No, he would have to try to take up the little crew at sea...or perhaps find out where they were going and beat them there.

[Ezekiel Lee]

"We don't need ta find the treasure fer ourselves, like, this crew'll do that bit fer us. They know where it is, after all - an' we don't." Zeke replied simply, and then added in a moment of inspiration, "An' as fer us findin' them... well... Think I might know of a lassie who be sailin' wiv these dogs, an' she's sharp as she is lovely... an' very lovely, mark me! I can 'ave a quiet word, like, an' in return fer safe passage an' mebbe a share a' 'er own, I'll bet she c'n see the sense in meetin' wiv us at some prearranged place."

Ezekiel shrugged again, loosely. "A'course, if she ain't as smart as I pegged 'er, she may merely tell me ta fuck meself! But that'll be 'er lookout an' risk, won't it?" It went without saying that there was a reasonable chance the Myrmidon and her crew would be able to find the little yacht even without inside help, just by knowing roughly where it would be; the galleon had a nice long view from the crow's nest, and the reach to catch anything smaller it might spot. And if Estella refused Zeke's perfectly reasonable offer, and they still caught the yacht, naturally the Mymidos would have to kill everyone on board no matter how lovely and sharp.

However, it never hurt to have a little insurance. If the weather was poor, for example, that would cut their chances of a lucky sighting in less than half in a moment. "If ye'll permit me ta negotiate on our behalf, Cap'n, I can speak wiv 'er directly...?"

[Grant]

At the end of the day, there was always betrayal. Not perhaps betrayal against this character, but betrayal against this woman he knew. If she got...reticent with any deal they cut, well...Linc had the moral destitution (as well as the calibre of metal) to take matters into his own hands. Indeed, he didn't have anything to lose. Not yet, anyway.

"Fine...do what you gotta do. Promise whatever she wants...but nothing in advance," cautioned Dupre. Motioning towards the massive orc beside him, he continued. "Troy'll stay ashore an make 'imself ready to help you if you need it..." the Captain tossed a very meaningful glance at his quartermaster, a look that quickly demonstrated that the pair had been together for many yahren...and that they understood each other very well.

This particular look emphasized that Troy knew the tenuous covenant that was the Brethren of the Mer, and he would be able to determine just how far was too far...at least for Nether's Gate. In addition, the orc would have a small group of right hard bastards immediately on-hand to manage any minor social problems that Zeke would hit along the way.

"We're ready to make sail on tomorrow's morningtide," he added. Morningtide High Tide came well before sun up, and it was reasonably higher than the Eveningtide High Tide...and left them plenty of light to maneuver around the Isle of Rande to wherever they needed to go. "Whatever deal you can cut, have it cut by tonight and be aboard 'fore we warp* out. Agreed?"




* - To warp a ship always meant to haul a ship by way of a rope, hawser, or cable...usually attached to a fixed object (such as a pier or anchor), but sometimes referring to a towing boat as well. It's the preferred method of setting sail on a journey for larger vessels.

[Ezekiel Lee]

At the Captain's words, Zeke nodded and grinned. Having the massive Troy as backup would certainly make negotiations smoother, should it come to that. Hopefully it would not come to that, for that would indicate a serious breakdown of communication and probably lack of deal... Ezekiel was certainly not averse to a little fighting, but he preferred gold over violence. Just.

"Agreed, Cap'n. An' glad ta be part a yer crew." Zeke stood, and made a respectful headbob which might as well have passed as a bow. "I'll be aboard afore the sun rises t'morrow, be sure of it. Pleasure speakin' wiv ya, gentleman, an' Cap'n."

With these few formalities taken care of, the rover took his leave of the table and shortly thereafter, the bar. It seemed the young Estella had vanished some burns earlier, and though he was not certain where she had gotten to, the community of Nether's Gate was not a big one, even with the Myrmidos and Roarks ashore.