[CLOSED] Hoola wacka! Oola wacka! Something not right

[katabasis]

WHO: Gwen, Carla, Vane, Silver, Flint
WHAT: Abductions, pirates, and intrigue, oh my!
WHEN: Early Cloudreach
WHERE: Some Water
NOTES: For PROFESSIONAL PIRACY. Feel free to kick around your own starters beyond the two group threads I have ready to roll.

Comments

[wont_be_me]

[ It's been years since she was last on a ship. Years since she was on planetfall long enough to make any particular friendships with seafaring pirates rather than the various thugs and drifters who made up a similar contingent on the spaceports. When her world had been Oscyria, she'd been on the better side of one Zaid Jones who had trafficked in undead bodies and drugs with a regular need for her services when sneaking past inspections. She might still be able to provide such tricks to the pirates of Thedas, but they hadn't asked, had they.

She's too tidy to be one of the crew, but she also doesn't seem as off balance as some rifter from space should've been. And there's a narrow kind of anger on her face. The fresh ocean air raises strange thoughts of a dead world. The ship itself is all wrong, but the wide expanse of water and mission to subvert and defy is familiar enough. She hates that: the pangs of memories over dead things. ]

[katabasis]

[Usually in instances like this one - one ship bristling with bolts and small arms and slings of potted fire closing rapidly on its vulnerable prey -, there are matters that weigh heavily enough to make him a poor conversationalist. But until they subdue the merchant ship and begin to take inventory of her crew, Flint finds himself in the rare role of observer.

It's with surprising ease that his attention ships from the Antivan ship floundering before them to the sharp eyed rifter near to hand.]

Have you done anything like this before?

[Somewhere in there, behind the serious fixture of his expression and the square set of his shoulders, lies a trace of good humor. It's the tempo of someone as secretly pleased with this moment as the armed vanguard clamoring at the Reaper's rail.]

[sclavus]

[ Vane looks like some kind of jungle cat ready to pounce on the ship at Flint's side, head slightly bowed, shoulders hunched, hand on his blade. He's very much the picture of a Nascere pirate, fierce and hungry and wild. he's pretty much their mascot, lets be real. but he isn't without sense, and when flint gives his request, though he snorts, he nods a second later, turning back to hop up on a cargo crate next to a mast to call out over the heads of the men around them. ]

Gentlemen! Remember our target. This isn't some passable prize we're cutting through. Subdue, but we need them alive. [ a l i v e, you fucks. yes, they're restless. yes, they're gunning for blood. thankfully, he'd gotten a time or two out at sea before this to get some of that out. ] If you're feeling a need for more, fucking stow it 'til next run.

Do not fuck this up.

[ very inspirational. but that's how charles vane rolls. most men on the island have been used to his demeanor and stoicism. he's well respected enough that it doesn't take much more than voicing what he wants to have it done. hopping down, he's next to Flint and Carla again soon enough to hear the conversation. ]

The fuck does it matter? Too late for lessons.

[wont_be_me]

Never on a ship this... [ What is the word. How to judge a literal wooden boat against every space age vessel she's scuttled across the universe in. Let alone the sleek engine-powered racing boats that Zaid Jones had favored for out maneuvering patrols along the coastline. She settles on: ] lumbering, or quaint.

[ She spreads her hands. Some people take offense to such denigrations to their vessels and she doesn't... care... ]

I have a long history with smugglers.

[ That seems to suffice it without providing more than was asked. Though it's hardly a secret she cares about keeping. ]

Who are you taking here?

[ Ransom? Bounty? Informant? ]