Pirates in the Wild
Eavesdown Docks - Persephone =>Persephone<=
This lesser kept portion of Persephone's port city is home to legions of disenfranchised entrepreneurs, each tent or stall vying with the next in line. Vendors shout their own particular brand of advertisements or allow the pyres of smoke from their grills to do the advertising for them. Practitioners of every walk of life fill the dirt-covered roads, buying and selling goods of every imaginable value. There are cargo containers stacked in high hills throughout the area creating a set of walls for the outdoor market with exits and entrances to each of the landing platforms that circumnavigate the area outside of the Market. Eavesdown is not well kept, as is a common Spaceport, and the lack of tarmac proves a disruptive force whenever a ship engages its powerful engines: kicking up the red dirt of the port relentlessly. To the Northeast, a section between two landing platforms begins the road to the Spacer's District, where those who are less restricted to Eavesdown may find additional business options.
Storn watches Gabrielle and Talon move to discuss their private business and shrugs a bit hoping himself back up onto a crate and pulling his harmonica back out of his pocket from where he stashed it during the turmoil earlier.
ClickClick Hissssssss The Ramp to the pirate warship, the 'Arctic Raider' begins to lower. There is no fanfare like there normally would be. No Royal Corsairs waiting in preparation for their Admiral. This time it is just Admiral Frost, in base pirate clothing instead of his famous armor... and the clothing are heavily bloodied around his left shoulder.. his only good eye is blackened and bloody.. and he appears to not have slept in days.
Taylor pushes up from where he's leaning when he sees Frost come down the ramp. He scowls and flicks the cigarette away and starts in the Pirate King's direction after only a moment's pause.
Poking her head outside the Invictus, Wren scans the docks curiously, taking in the ebb and flow of people before she ventures a foot down the ramp. Her eyes widen just a bit at the sight of a Pirate, and she stares rather openly.
Having become aware that the ship he typically captains but left back at home due to it's being rather conspicuous has landed here on Persephone, Mark is waiting at the base of that ramp as it touches dirt. As is customary, the pirate captain is dressed in his Hawaiian print, voluminous pockets of his shorts stuffed with beer cans, with one in hand. A lit cigar is in the other, wreathing him in rum scented smoke. As he watches Frost emerge, he considers the admiral thoughtfully, drawing long on the cigar before he lowers it, asking, "So what the fuck happened to you?"
The strewns of muscles surrounding her mandible tense, gritting her teeth together. No longer is her attention divided in a thousand directions, remaining upon the Arctic Raider as the ramp begins to lower. The Chief Corsair shifts a bit within her stance, lowering the hand once planted on her hip to dangle at her side. Within her vision's girth, the sight of the corsair wandering towards the Pirate King is caught. "Ah fuckin' idiot's gonna get 'emself killed," she mutters beneath her breath with a slight shake of her head. Nysacire remains standing in place at the bottom of the ramp of the Minnow.
Taylor stops somewhere slightly behind and to one side of Captain Vance, as he looks over Frost. Whatever his opinion might be, he keeps it to himself, but stands by, as if expecting that either Marcus or Frost might be needing another pair of hands.
It's hard to catch a good view when you're only so tall yourself, even if you are on a boarding ramp. Wren stands on tiptoe, wavering a bit as she tries to watch the people collecting around the pirate. After a few moments of that she grumbles something to herself, and darts back inside the Invictus. A few moments later she re-emerges, this time tugging and pulling a smallish crate out with her. Settling it on the ramp, she proceeds to use it as a step stool. Ah. Much better.
"Nothin'" Frost says simply, a stern frown forming at his lips. The expression meant one thing: He'd not be fielding anymore questions of that nature. This one comment made, the Admiral starts down the ramp of the warship, armed with only his trusty cutlass, all other weapons had been left behind... another awkward thing to see. "Ah caught wind tha mainstay 'ad headed 'ere, ah came tah see wha tha deal was.." he finally informs Marcus as to why he has even made such a cavalier appearance.
Mark takes all of this in, as he tucks the cigar into the corner of his mouth, leaning to the left to reach into a cargo pocket. Producing a beer obviously still cold, judging by the condensation forming on it, he offers it to Frost, along with the accounting, "Recruitin'. Little fuckin' information gatherin' 'fore the main fuckin' event."
The Admiral steps on to the tarmac, reaching forward and snatching the beer from Marcus' hand. For far too long now Frost had been sober, trying to keep his mind clear for the warlike actions his people and the forces that fought had been taking against one another.. however .. considering his present condition, he could use a drink. "Good." Frost responds simply, taking a few steps past the Raider's Captain and looking towards the main District. "Yah think yah can get me girl.." he thumbs over his shoulder towards the Raider. "..back for me? Ah won' be takin' tha return trip with ye, mates."
"O'course, Admiral," Mark replies, following in alongside Frost as if there's nothing strange about a guy stepping off of a starship as if he'd just come straight from the Spanish main, "You gonna be takin' the archangel, then... Or should we be makin' some alternate fuckin' arrangements?"
Wren cants her head to one side, fascinated by the scene, even if she can't really make out what's being said. One hand goes to her own shoulder, investigating muscles and tendons around the same area highlighted with blood on Frost. Humming softly, she seems content to simply watch the going's on.
Yinn steps out of the cargo bay of the Minnow, long steps carrying her about half way down the boarding ramp where she pauses, dark green eyes turning about the docks, getting a feel for the going ons before she immerses herself in the general masses.
"Nay." Frost responds simply. He leaves his response at that for the time being as he lifts the beer to his pierced lips. After drinking half the beer in one swig, he lowers it and sighs. "Ah won' be takin' tha Archangel either. Tha Queen no longer sails with us." he half-turns at the waist to look back at the Raider. "Jus' get tha ships back n' follow 'long with our original plans." he turns his attention back to Marcus', nodding once to the man as he regards him through his one good eye, good being relative right now since it is also so heavily damaged. In fact, it's amazing he is actually able to use the damn thing. "Ah'll be doin' my leg of tha operation solo."
The cigarettes offered him draw Marcus' attention for a moment, but since there's a cigar already dangling from his mouth, Marcus just shakes his head, going back to the look of utter surprise that Frost's revelation had caused on the big captain's face, "Aye, admiral.. The crews are all set, we're only waitin' out the moment," What moment, or prepared for what, Mark of course isn't going to reveal so publicly, "You gonna be needin' any fuckin' guns, or anything?"
Yinn's case drift from her immediate vicinity, including the petite form of Wren perched precariously on the crate one ship over, watching her for a moment as if expecting her to fall over at any moment. Once it seems such entertainment is not to immediately ensue, the gaze slides onwards. At first, her gaze slides over Frost's form, and starts to move on, but is rapidly pulled back to the man, a brow slipping upwards as she gets a look at the Admiral outside of his typical armored self. She watches him, and Marcus for a moment, taking a precursory and cautionary glance around in general before her steps carry her off the ramp of the Minnow to the general direction the two monster of men stand.
From her perch on top of a crate at the head of the Invictus boarding ramp, Wren continues observing Pirates in the Wild, a faint frown creasing her forehead as she tries to divine the nature of the conversation taking place. Her study is interrupted momentarily to glance over at the person emerging from the Minnow. After a moment's thought she gives Yinn a cheerful wave.
Again Frost shakes his head, this time in response both to Marcus' question, as well to the offer of a cigarette. "Nay." he says, waving his left hand. This said he takes another long pull from the beer, finishing it off and tossing it in a high arc over his right shoulder. The bottle smashes against the hull of his Flagship. "Ah be havin' all ah need." he says and begins to walk away from the small gathering of pirates, his destination is straight through the crowd, intending to head north into the Spacer's district. "Jus' make sure tha raider still be 'round when ah come back for her." the infamous pirate says in parting.
Taylor tucks his cigarettes away, and scowls, "T'ain't right Cap'n...It's like he's goin' on his death march." he says to Marcus, "We just gonna leave him here?" For all the differences he has with his crew, he's unflinchingly loyal.
"Aye, Admiral," Mark grunts, brows knit in concern as he draws to a halt, scratching his unshaven chin as he watches the pirate king go, no longer with his escort. Shaking his head at Taylor, he rumbles from around his cigar, "You ain't wrong, but that don't mean there's jack fuckin' shit we can do 'bout it, mate."
Yinn's path is something of an intercept course towards the small cluster of pirates, a step or two hesitating as the Admiral starts to move away, but picks up speed just as quickly as it lost it, continuing towards his general direction. "Admiral..." She calls, as she nears, the word a half question, half an attempt to flag him down.
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Wren watches Frost as he turns away from the others and begins moving off into the crowd. Yinn's interception is tracked with a great deal of interest, and she unconsciously takes a step forward, trying to get a better view.
The Admiral wasn't quite out of earshot when Taylor makes his comment and he pauses, turning back a bit to respond to it. "Nay. Ahm not marchin' tah no death, cause ah be bloody immortal..." Frost seems awful sure about this comment, "..n' even if ah ain'. Tha Cap'n be right, there ain' jack fuggin' shite ye can do 'bout it." and just as he turns to walk off again, his bearing still due north, he catches sight of Yinn. "Aye?" he asks her simply upon her approach.
Taylor scowls, "Aye sir." and watches Frost walk away, shaking his head faintly, and muttering to himself, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets and smoking the cigarette between his lips. He watches between Frost and Yinn for a moment, then looks to Marcus, "So we're lifting off immediately, I take it."
"Not quite," Mark replies, still watching Frost go, reaching up to pluck his cigar from his mouth, so that he can raise the beer, gulping the liquid down until the bottle's empty, and he's tossing it aside to shatter on the tarmac, "But we are gettin' the crew back to their assigned fuckin' ships."
Yinn glances to Frost again as she gets closer, taking in the bandages with a neutral eye, though a brow arched upwards for a brief moment. Her gaze dances from Frost to the others a few steps away, then back again. "Sorry for interruptin' and all... I just wanted to let you know there was no need to be replyin' back to th'wave. Kennedy's done and taken care of it all." She explains, her head nodding briefly towards where the Minnow is docked.
That single step forward wasn't very far, but it is far enough that Wren is now standing along the very edge of the crate. Her gaze shifts from the Admiral to the people being left behind to Yinn, bouncing from one thing to the next as she tries to watch everything at the same time.
The Admiral isn't bandaged, just bleeding through some unidentified wound that resides beneath the loose fitting shirt at his right shoulder. As Yinn speaks, he looks to meet her eyes. "Very good." he says without so much as looking back towards the ship that is gestured towards. "Then return tah yer Cap'n, lass. Ahm sure she will 'ave plenty ah jobs fer yah in tha follwoin' days." and again Frost is short-winded. Having given Yinn what he considered a sufficient response he was on his way again, moving and at other times pushing his way through the crowd... not that he had to push for long. As people realized who it was bounding through their midst they tended to get the hell out of his way.
Taylor nods "Should I have your corsairs return to the Raider? There's at least one aboard with Cap'n Sinclair." he asks Marcus, taking a last drag of his smoke and flicking it away.
Yinn gives a nod to Frost at his words, "Aye, sir." Yinn says, meeting his gaze evenly until he turns away. "Thank ya, sir." She says, taking a step back as he heads on, her tongue running slowly over the line of her upper teeth as she watches the crowd part for the man. She lets out a slow breath, as if her brain was chewing on something, brows furrowing down slightly. But, only a moment or two passes and she nods, and turns sharply on her heel, heading back towards the Minnow, pausing only long enough to snag a couple of meats on a stick from a vendor.
"Huh," Wren interrupts her humming to comment to herself, going up on tiptoe to try and catch a last glimpse of the Pirate King. And that is, of course, enough to finally overbalance things. The crate tips and then slips out from under her, arms windmilling frantically to try and catch her balance. Or maybe she's thinking if she flaps hard enough, she'll fly. Regardless, there's a lot of flailing, and a startled shriek as she goes down.
"Nah." Mark grunts, drawing a mouthful of cigar smoke in, slowly letting it out, "I'll have the chief pass the fuckin' word around to 'er Corsairs, Make sure they all know where the fuck their cabins even are. Too many o' you fucks are new.." Mark's interrupted by the shriek, his head twisting quickly in that direction, neck craning as he looks about to see just what's happened."
As the crowd fills in the gap left in the Pirate King's wake, the man disappears into the crowd.
Taylor nods "Aye sir." and looks after where Frost disappeared into the city, "I have a bad feelin' 'bout all this."
The Chief Corsair mocks that of a living statue within her stance. Emerald orbs holding a distant look within them as they follow the path of the Pirate King before he disappears from sight. Not a single word is emitted from her lips as the boots begin to cross the ground. The happenings around the docks do not even draw a glance towards them. The features of her face remaining as if carved from stone, not depicting a single emotion upon them. Nysacire's stride draws her to the ramp of the Arctic Raider, beginning to ascend it slowly.
The sound of the shriek sends Yinn’s head snapping into the direction of Wren, the kabobs forgotten still in the vendor's hand as she covers the few feet in a flurry of feet, her hand snatching out to grab at the back of the girl's shirt to keep her from smashing herself face or chest first onto the ramp beside her.
"You ain't the only one," Mark agrees, muttering darkly around his cigar, glancing back to the ships right about then, as impressive as Yinn's display was. In so doing, he spots the blonde moving from one to another, calling out, "Hey, Blondie, c'mere.. We got some shit goin' on."
The boots come to a halt mid-way up the ramp as her nickname is called out. Nyascire's head pivots towards the side, turning the emerald orbs towards Marcus's direction. Her tone mocking the same look within her eyes, distant and lacking much emotion. The mannerisms, her voice, everything seems off about the Chief Corsair, nothing how it usually is as if the 'verse has been turned upside down and a different person has emerged. "Can we speak inside, sir, instead?"
The crate goes flying off the edge of the ramp, and Wren is about to suffer the same fate-- except the flailing suddenly seems to have worked, and she doesn't tumble right into the ground. Or at least, that's what it seems like to her. A series of emotions flicker across her face in an instant before she realizes. Oh, wait, that's Yinn. And while the shirt keeps her from smashing onto the ramp with the same force she was about to, she still winds up on her butt. Wide, startled eyes stare at her rescuer.
Yinn's gaze remains divided between Marcus and Nysacire, and the girl in her grasp... Which, once Wren has settled without any apparent broken bones, she releases. "Ya hurt, mei mei?" She asks, taking a precursory sweep over the girl, lingering briefly on her arms and hands, before she glances back to the others.
"Oh, fuckin' hell," Mark rumbles, shaking his head and starting towards the Raider's ramp, "Yeah, yeah. What the fuck is it with everybody lately.. Gorram crazy, all of'em."
Wren shakes her head at Yinn, following the woman's glance back to Marcus and Nysacire. "Gravity still applies," she notes with an irritated sigh, gaze sweeping back to take stock of the busted crate and her own position on the ramp.
Taylor lingers around Marcus, waiting to see what happening, then following him up the ramp into the Raider. He nods to Nysa, "Chief." He's all about staying out of people's way at the moment, but he's sticking around in case he's needed, or until someone tells him to fuck off.
A simple glance is given over towards Taylor, holding her tongue for the time being. A questioning glance is given over towards Marcus; though unlikely for the silent answer to be delivered as she uses the age old silent language of females considering Marcus lacks female equipment. Without a word spoken, Nysacire turns back to her previous destination. Boots falling within a rhythm of their own across the ramp as she disappears within the Arctic Raider.
"Last time I checked." Yinn says dryly to the girl sitting beneath her, glancing to the crate briefly, a small shake of the head. "Watch how far you are next time, hm?" She says, watching the pirates head towards the Raider's cargo bay.
Spilling out of the crate are a lot of very odd stuffed birds. What the hell is that about? Mystery of the 'verse. Wren frowns at them, peering over the edge of the ramp for a moment before returning her gaze to Yinn. "I was watching them," she notes with a shrug.
Marcus troops up the ramp after Nysa, glancing to the pirate alongside him as he goes, "Ain't sure what this is gonna be all 'bout.. You can come if ya want, or stay if ya prefer."
"Aye... and next time, watch both." Yinn chides gently, eyes narrowing slightly towards the Raider. Finally, she glances back to Wren once more, and a brief curt smile draws her lips up for a moment. "I've got business ta tend to. Try not ta break yerself from here on out, would ya?" She says, before heading back towards the Minnow's ramp, kebobs forgotten.
Taylor shrugs to Marcus, "I'm a parta th'crew sir, t'ain't acted like it sometimes I expect, but I'd like t'come along." and looks to Nysa, "That's if th'Chief don't mind. Don't mean t'be messin in things what ain't my business."
"Guess we're 'bout to find out," Mark mutters, as he boards the raider.
"Already broken," Wren comments as casually as if noting it might rain later, watching Yinn as she heads back to the Minnow. Shifting her position, she then lays prone on the ramp, one arm flung over the edge to collect the stuffed birds. The crate she leaves where it lies.
Take me back to Wren's RP Logs
