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Post by Retrograde on Feb 1, 2018 17:01:22 GMT
"It landed right in front of me, sir. No idea who tossed it but I am supposing they wanted me to see it. No idea what it means though."
Smitty frowned. If the note was genuine, then that was a real crying shame. She was such a pretty girl and it broke his heart to see women turn down dark paths. So young, too. What could she be, then? A Bassanian spy? Maybe someone in the employ of a rival captain. Anything was possible here. He and James had made many enemies over the years.
Then Shaharizadi came moving out, looking frightened. She hurried over to James.
"Captain!" She cried. "I have never seen a storm like zhis!"
She came up to James, quivering, and made doll-eyes at him. Smitty did his best not to act suspicious. If she really is some sort of threat, she is an amazing actress. She looks about ready to cry. He thought to himself.
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Post by Fyremage on Feb 1, 2018 17:27:35 GMT
"Aye, storms at sea tend to be a mite bit more unsettling than on land." He eyed her warily, but his usual smile creased upon his lips in a fairly natural transition. His brow arched slightly, with a quizzical tone in his voice. "Didn't you say though, love, that you were on yer first ship when you was... three was it?"
His grin was a bit more genuine this time. "O'course you'd 'ave seen a storm or two in the years yew been handling ships, as you said. And this swell comin' our way may be a bit rough, but not too out o' the ordinary."
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Post by Retrograde on Feb 1, 2018 18:09:10 GMT
Nawida looked up at James, and then began to bawl. Her face turned red and kohl streaked down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I lied, I'm sorry..."
Her shoulders shook, her body trembled. "My fazher had enemies, I had to run or zhey were gonna... Gonna..." She couldn't complete the sentence, gasping for breath as she buried her face in her hands.
"I'd heard zh-zhe stories about all you ha-ad do-o-one an' I t'ought I wuh-wuh-would be safe wit' you-ou..."
She hung her head. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
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Post by Fyremage on Feb 1, 2018 18:23:30 GMT
Just when James had thought he had successfully called Sicarancadiati out on the rubbish she was selling, the woman began... crying. It was an unexpected turn of events for the pirate to be sure (which was saying something), and at first, he honestly wasn't even sure where to begin. He reached out to grasp her shoulder gingerly, but her crying seemed to intensify as he did, which caused him to recoil as if snapped at by a snake. "Oi.. erm..." He looked at Smitty, as if searching for some guidance for the situation.
Of course the man had seen men and women alike cry, but normally it was men crying as the bitter reality of their lot in life smacked them in the face, or it was a woman crying out of... pleasure. As the thought entered his head, a slight grin surfaced and quickly abated as he shook his head slightly as if to snap back into reality. Eventually, he did the only thing he could fathom at present. He pulled the woman into his arms, giving her a... surprisingly tender embrace. He held her and rocked ever so slightly back and forth, as if consoling a child tall enough to stand near his height. The act brought back... memories that threatened to well up to the surface, but he choked back the emotion with a slight cough. He withdrew himself a bit so he could look the woman in the eyes, and wiped one of her tears from her face. "Oi... I understand oi suppose. All o' us 'ere be running from one skeleton or another that haunts us, savvy? Why... why don't we get you a drink, eh?"
He looked over at Smitty, his empathetic expression still present, which slowly dissipated as he adopted a smug, pig-scat eating grin ever so briefly as the pair walked off to his cabin.
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Post by Retrograde on Feb 2, 2018 0:15:14 GMT
Briefly, Nawida felt a sense of triumph. She had fooled him, saving herself from a potentially messy end. But then he embraced her. She felt him wrap around her and begin rocking her and she couldn't help herself. She hugged him back, burying her face in his shoulder as she tried to get her breathing under control. It was easy enough to start crying but stopping was still difficult for her.
She nodded weakly at the notion of a drink. Her throat had constricted and was burning. Now she remembered why she didn't do the crying trick very often. It was a genuinely unpleasant experience.
She followed after him to his Captain, listening one last time to the thunder roll over the horizon. She wondered if it was some sort of omen. In the distance she was certain that she could hear someone chastising her for what she was about to do. It sounded like her mother's voice. She frowned. What made any of this different from the usual kill? There was nothing special about James A. Rackham. She had killed her fair share of charmers before and never felt guilty like this. Had she changed so much without her father's influence? Was she so weak?
She pressed herself up against Rackham, stealing his warmth. She used his shoulder to rub off some of the kohl that had run down her cheeks, then looked up at him.
"I don't deserve how patient you are being wit' me. I shouldn't have lied."
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Post by Fyremage on Feb 2, 2018 16:25:35 GMT
"None of us deserve anything in this life, you can lay to that." James said as he eased her into one of the chairs by his table, and set about pouring them both more rum. And while yes, he was being rather gentle with her, he was trying to decide how much he believed her story. There was of course something to be said for the many different personalities and mentalities of those who served upon a ship of ill repute, yet most if not all of the men and women here would hardly resort to such means of informing Smitty and by proxy James to be wary of this woman if she was just a stowaway. In his younger and intemperate days, James may have gone about this entirely different in an attempt to pull her full story out of her. Yet, he wasn't quite ready to bank on the notion that she was entirely lying.
And even still, he found that the truth could come out much easier if coaxed out with a bit of honey as they say. He learned that all too well on a personal level, involving one rather manly woman in Rjillund. "What exa'tly are you running from, love?"
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Post by Retrograde on Feb 14, 2018 0:34:42 GMT
Nawida eyed the bottle of rum as James poured them both their glasses. She needed a way to get a hold of the bottle so that she could administer the poison. She had glanced only for a moment, not long enough for anyone to suspect.
She accepted the glass, looking down at it and sniffling. She took a sip, using the burn to steady herself. She looked up at James, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm, and sighed.
"My fazher, he is a powerful man. He made a lot of enemies down sout' in his businesses, and zhey had decided zhey would get to him by attacking me. So, he sent me up here so I could be safe."
She quirked her mouth to the side, and curled up, bringing her knees to her chest. "I was supposed to get married, to live a normal life... Not zhis."
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Post by Fyremage on Feb 19, 2018 18:12:17 GMT
"Sounds familiar." James said as he took a seat opposite of her and stared distantly at the bottle of rum which sat between them. He remembered in the not so distant past a young man who had left a whole other life behind as he cast off to sea. He was different then, yet oddly the same. How different would he be had he chosen a different path? He often wondered as much as he delved deeper into each bottle of rum he drank. And they had not nearly delved deep enough into this one for him to begin such a journey.
After a few moments he looked back at the woman and said: "So what be yer real name then?" Runaways rarely ever used their real name when they stowed away, particularly if her story was true and she were running away from her powerful father. He knew from... experience. "Or is Sitarizuccini you're real name?"
He set his mug on the table, but it apparently didn't catch enough of the surface as it fell and spilled all over his floor. He let out a loud curse as he bent down to pick it up, the endeavor taking longer than he had hoped given the ship keeling to and fro, causing the mug to roll to the other side of the room.
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Post by Retrograde on Feb 19, 2018 18:48:17 GMT
Nawida smiled softly. "No, my name is not Shaharizadi. It's impressive, zhough, you've managed to mispronounce it every time you have said it. My real name is Nawida." she said. "It means 'purity' in my fazher's tongue." She felt comfortable revealing her birth name at this point - there were many Nawida's living in Pherai, and besides, Rackham would soon be dead.
Just as she thought that, she saw her chance. She ran her finger over the top of the bottle very deeply, depositing the poison within her ring into the bottle. It did not matter if James made her drink it, she was already tolerant of the poison and had been since childhood. It would only have a mild stuporing effect on her that she could easily power through.
"Here, let me get zhat," she said softly, moving to refill his drink. A brief tightness entered into her chest. She could not tell if it was anticipation or anxiety. She resolved to try and work out the softness that had clearly crept into her at some point. Oh well, there was no going back now. She was about to complete her mission then she could return back to the port of Shtokol to reclaim her payment.
Then, perhaps a few milk baths were in order.
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Post by Zoilus on Feb 19, 2018 18:57:30 GMT
Vigo was standing just under the deck with his most trusted crewmates, all of them hiding weapons. Nawida had gone into Rackham's cabin a while back, and now the anticipation was almost palpable. He'd done this before, killed, taken ships, but betting it all on someone as slippery as the southron was certainly not his style. He sighed. What was taking so long?
At least his men had been given enough time to get into position, but he was starting to fear that they were going to be stewing in their own juices for too long. One slip up, and they would fail, or turn the Beetle into a slaughterhouse that couldn't navigate properly. Or set it on fire. Vigo felt sweat on his temples, and gripped his knife a little tighter.
No turning back, not now.
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Post by Fyremage on Feb 19, 2018 21:41:58 GMT
James stumbled back over to his chair, releasing his weight upon it as Nawida grasped his mug and refilled it full of rum from his bottle. He gave her a smirk and grasped the mug, raising it slightly as if to salute his achievement of consistently mispronouncing her name. He brought the cup up to his lips, but just prior to drinking he pointed his finger at her at the last minute, saying: "You know, that sounds like a name. Shaharizadi. Now that, that sounds like sommat I put on my mutton. We'll 'ave to teach you 'ow to lie properly." It was obvious he was playing up to the notion that he knew she had assumed a fake identity this entire time, even though he had only suspected nothing more than ulterior motive over a fake identity. And even then, as much as James would deny it later, her charm was beginning to take over. His eyes flicked to her chest only briefly before connecting with her eyes, and seemingly getting lost in them for a few moments. He blinked as if to shake the thought that came to his head, namely how much her eyes reminded him of... someone.
He smirked and let out a slight chuckle, raising his mug once again and taking a hefty sip of its contents. He set it down once again on the table and ran his hand through his beard - smoothing the damp fibers. He was about to say something when a... peculiar feeling began to set about him. His eyes seemed to lose focus, forcing him to blink repeatedly as if to see the woman clearly across the room. He hadn't had that much rum as of yet, or had he? The thought of possible inebriation soon left him when he smacked his tongue and tasted a warm, metallic sensation as if blood had welled up in his mouth. That, combined with the tightness welling up in his throat and a numbness at his fingertips, and convinced him of something else entirely.
Killer's Wart, he hadn't tasted that vile concoction in several years. Few men had and lived to tell the tale to be sure, but James had meant it earlier when he was addressing Vigo, namely that he had 'been around long enough to know not to leave people alone in his room.' Many a woman in his past had attempted to use this poison on him in his younger days, with his brushes so frequent and fortunate that he had managed to build a resistance to it. That didn't make the consumption of the poison a positive experience for him however, but at least he had the pleasure of surviving. He struggled to put a grin on his face as he looked Nawida in the eye, his hand placed at the hilt of his sword under the table beyond view: "You know, oi was jus' beginnin' to believe yer story there, love. And you mi' 'ave gotten away with this if'n you 'ad remembered one key thing about me..."
He paused, silence pervading between them for several more moments, until it was soon broken with James flipping the table between them and drawing his sword. The moment would have been flawless, if not for the poison in his veins. What would have been a silky smooth draw of his sword had turned into a belabored effort that took an extra moment, his hilt catching on the leather momentarily and him having to tug again on his sword. He brought it out quickly however, swaying slightly as drunken pirates were oft to do. He cleared his throat. "They don't tell stories about me in want of a reason, savvy? You really think people 'aven't tried to poison me before...?"
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Post by Retrograde on Mar 5, 2018 21:09:02 GMT
Nawida watched James drink the poison with anticipation. She was glad that this was going to be finally over. It had been a thoroughly stressful experience, for reasons she did not entirely understand, but she knew that she would be able to work on it. Still, she was making plans for him already. She was going to lay a coin beneath his tongue so that he may make his way onto the afterlife without problem. She'd never done that before, but something compelled her to pay her due to the dead.
Then he didn't die. She threw herself back in surprise as the man turned over the table, drawing his blade. She spat a curse and freed a dagger from the confines of her shirt. It wouldn't normally have been enough - the reach advantage of a sword was too much and the captain had a natural strength advantage over her, but she believed that with the poison she could have a chance to at least defend herself from his advances. "Zhe poison didn't work!" she barked as loud as she could. "Move to your second plan, if you have one!" She hunkered down, looking James in the eye as she twirled her dagger in her hand.
She smirked at James. "Allow me to make a more proper introduction, zhen. I am Nawida Abhan, Daughter of zhe Dragon. I was sent here by one Lady Akonyta of Shtokol. She has a daughter that looks just like you. Well, less scruffy, but you know what I mean."
She watched him carefully, her body in a defensive position. She was ready to move out of the way if he surged out of her, and ready to parry any strikes he made with his sword. If he gave her enough room, she could reach in and sock him in the throat. She exhaled through her nose, baring teeth at him. She wasn't going to make the first move, she needed him to bridge the gap in distance. Then she could work her magic.
"If it helps, I did genuinely find you a little... charming."
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Post by Zoilus on Mar 5, 2018 21:21:19 GMT
Her voice was muffled, but Vigo had always been a good listener: Rackham wasn't out, but he was down, and that would have to be enough. He gave the nod to his confederates, and the messenger ran off to send the signal to the rest of them. Do or die, now or never: this was his damn ship, and it was time to take it back.
Drawing his knife, he climbed on the top deck, facing down the First Mate and a few of his toadies. "Did you hear the girl squeal? Your Captain's not dead, but he will be very soon. Unless you want to join him, throw down your weapons: this is a mutiny!" He grinned, and turned around to face the foredeck, "Did you hear that?! This is a mutiny! Anyone who doesn't want to die fighting Alendron's wars for somebody else to get paid, hunker down! Anyone who does..." he turned back to Smitty, "bare your throat."
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Zoz had heard the bitch whine too, but she'd failed. Vigo would try his best, but they both needed a way out, and thankfully, the Beetle provided: a small lifeboat, hanging off the back, no guards. She'd get it ready, give Vigo enough time to win or escape. He didn't make it, well...of course he would. He always did, and so did she.
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Post by Fyremage on Mar 5, 2018 22:03:06 GMT
"Lady Ankat-- wot?" James said with a slightly amused tone. "I'm afraid I've been around the cove a bit too much to remember the names o' the lasses Oi've bedded, see. But I'll be sure to remember that when Oi'm done wi' you."
Just then, James had thought he heard a voice bellowing outside the cabin. He didn't catch all that was said, but he was quick enough to be able to put two pieces together considering the announcement Nawida made. A grin flashed across James' face as he grasped a nearby jug of water, and he took a gracious sip of its contents, still standing on the defensive. He could do one of two things: 1. stay here and fight the assassin on even footing, and risk losing the ship to whatever was going on outside. Or 2. do what James Rackham would do. He as quickly as he could threw the water at Nawida, which he assumed would result in her dodging from the paltry attack.
But his true intent was when he quickly exited the cabin, the door at his back, with his free hand plunging the key into the lock and effectively trapping the assassin in the captain's quarters. James turned about and set the keys back in his pocket, taking a few steps forward before speaking loudly. "Now there, let's not be hasty now eh?"
He could still feel the numbness in his extremities, as well as the stiffness caused by the poison. But he did his best to appear strong and confident, which for him was, oddly enough, one of his strong suits.
"You all know who Oi am, and know two things about me." He stared down Vigo, doing his best to stay aware of what was going on around him and remaining on guard. "Oi'm no coward, and everyone gets paid. And after this errand, we can get back to what we do best - wivvout 'aving nearly as big a target on our backs as if we cut bait and ran. There be a reason I've lived as long as Oi 'ave. Now-"
James pointed the tip of his sword at Vigo. "Let's put these dogs down. Who be with me?!"
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Post by Retrograde on Mar 6, 2018 23:29:13 GMT
Nawida moved to dodge, desperately moving to get out of the way of the jug. She wasn't fast enough, the rum she had drank slowing her reflexes just enough. She gasped as the jug collided with her face, causing a wave of pain to erupt through her face, centred right on her nose. She dropped her dagger as her vision blurred, and she stumbled. She clutched her face, cursing as she heard the door behind her open and close, and then lock behind her. She snorted, pulling her hands from her face to see that both her palms were wet with blood. Her eyes went wide, and she fished her pocket mirror from the confines of her shirt to see that her nose was now just every so slightly bent. She shrieked in horror and despair, looking back to the door behind her. She ground her teeth, the pain in her nose slowly becoming a sort of numbness. She felt her eye twitch violently as a million horribly deaths for James Rackham went through her head. She looked around the floor around her, seeing her dagger once more before eyeing the door again. She giggled evilly, knowing that the Captain had set himself up for the flanking of a lifetime... she just had to get through the door. She picked up her dagger, stowing it in her belt. Her eyes moved to the heaviest object in the room she could still pick up: a formidable looking oaken trunk. She was surprised by how unwieldy it was, but it did not take her more than a secondto right herself and then turn her focus to the door. She moved full-tilt, throwing her weight against the door, using the trunk as a battering ram. The door heaved, bending at the mighty blew. It only took four repetitions before the door's hinges gave way and the door tumbled out, collapsing in front of her. She dropped the trunk, and once more freed her dagger.
Her eyes twinkled with malevolence.
--
Rutgardt watched it all happen in real time. A mutiny, not too dissimilar to the one that he had once been party to many years ago. He looked around, then gathered himself as he set his eyes on Vigo. He freed the falchion from his ship.
"I bare my throat for no man!" he bellowed. "I am Rutgardt, former Lieutenant of the Imperial Marines, and I bare my throat for no man!" He looked to the crewmembers he knew were still loyal to him. "MEN! SCHILTRON FORMATION! ADVANCE UPON THE FOREDECK!" He leveled his falchion at Vigo's chest, and bared his teeth. "Be prepared, Talcear, for tonight, you die like a dog!" He leapt forward, hoping his immense size and strength advantage would allow him to crush his opponent. He kept his sword in front of him, knowing that even with his strength he would be unlikely to pierce the sternum but hopefully he would psyche out his opponent enough to make him do something stupid.
The men loyal to Smitty and James A. Rackham brandished whatever weapon they could. Some had swords, others simply mops that could be used as clubs. Many just had knives. Those with longer weapons formed the outside as the men doubled back, doing what they could to gather up together. Those that couldn't instead defended themselves to the best of their ability, trying to bring themselves back to the formation. Many of the men had served in their nation's version of the marines, but just as many had been things like powder monkeys or criminals whose luck had ran out and forced them to a life of piracy.
A few stood near the forecastle when James emerged, and cheered. "Captain!" one cried. "It's good to s--" He stopped, and stared as the door began to give way behind him. "Uhhh." He could see the eyes of a madwoman peering out at him. "UHHHHHH"
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