7th Sea: Changing Tides IC (Closed)

[Kinkerhell]

The sun is dipping toward the horizon on the night of Soldi in the month of Julius, in the year of our prophet, 1667. As the great burning orange disc of the sun sinks toward the waterline, painting the sky and the thin clouds in a variety of reds, oranges and purple, the town of Bilgewater has come to life.

All about the streets are barkers shouting prices of their wares, from food and wine to weapons, stolen art, even the price of young, nubile flesh of either sex. Other Jennies, those without pimps, stroll the streets of the islands that make up the town, their painted faces and quick smiles turned toward every sailor who looks like he might have a coin. Those selfsame sailors lurch through the avenues and alleys, looking for a drink at The Captain's Lass or a warm bed with a warmer woman Rosewater or the Silk sheets. All across the night air can be heard the sounds of shouting, singing, and laughter as it pours from decks and doorways. On the surface, the town seems to vibrate with the frenzied gaiety that only a pirate town can provide.

But surface appearances can be deceiving.

Under those shouts of joy at the reunion of old friends and rivals are the curses of one bitter enemy to another. Under the shrill giggles of the girls at The Teeth and Ankles are the shriller screams of a poor Jenny being raped and beaten in a back alley. The laughter at a well-told story sounds remarkably similar to the laughter of a vicious bo'sun as he gives twenty lashes to the young crewman who was press-ganged in Numa and still hasn't got the hang of things. And who could tell that the two sailors lurching down the street supporting a third aren't holding up their mate because of drink, but because of the foul poison a vodacce pirate slipped him to win a game of liar's dice?

Oh yes, Bilgewater is certainly going on as normal.

Four ships are anchored in the docks. Two are obviously pirates or smugglers, small ships with their sails patched, their hulls tarry and barnacle-encrusted, their guards looking around furtively, as if accustomed to being hunted. A third ship seems newer, Its hull weathered but serviceable and its sails seeming almost new. The ship's sails are trimmed in the red of a Vodacce privateer, probably in Bilgewater to pick up more crew and unload swag gained from the scuttling of a Vendel league ship, if the Spiders are being true to form.

The fourth and final ship is one that every man and woman in Bilgewater knows. Her hull is old, dark wood and her twin sails are grey. Her roger is flown, a black field with a large canine on it, rampant, facing to the dexter. On the prow of the ship the words Black Dawn are painted in black with gold trim. This, then, is the legendary Avalonian pirate Jeremiah Berek's ship.

Out in the bay, two boats are coming in, and upon seeing them, the dockhands and passerby on the wharf go quiet.

The first ship is a raider's raider. Sitting high in the water, the ship's hull is black, black, black, the color of the depths at midnight on a moonless night. The color comes not from tar or stain, but from the peculiar wood she's built with, taken from Die Schwartzenwald in Eisen. Some say its bad luck to take the trees from the Black Forest, but the old timber makes a fine ship, fast and light. Her figurehead is a beautiful woman in a scandalously short dress. She is unpainted, but if one were to get close enough to make out the details, they would see her wearing an impish smiles, and holding a violin up, the bow across the strings.

The ship is narrow in the beam, and seems to dance across the water, barely touching it. Her sails are white, and despite the ship's size, only that of a caravel or large schooner, she runs under three sails, all of which are the blazing, pure white of an Ussuran snowfall. On her prow, enameled in blue and gold, is her name; Black Threnody. She doesn't seem to be running with guns, her smooth lines unmarred by gunports or cannon snouts.

But it is not for this ship that silence falls, for coming in the other side of the bay is a most unusual sight for the Straits. Painted gold, with sails as white as the Threnody's is a three-masted ship, her hull shining on the seaward side and silhouetting herself against the setting sun. Her sails are smaller than the black pirate ship's, but her hull is larger and bears a double deck of guns, each one showing five cannon. She flies no flag, neither roger nor national colors, but her mainsail is marred with a great Thean Cross, also in gold. Her name can be seen even from the dock, the proud black letters spelling out Galicia.

Galicia is an Inquisition ship.

The two ships come into the bay at roughly the same time, both heading for the last open slip. The Inquisition ship clearly expects the "lowly pirate" to give way, but that's not how things are done in the Straits. Undeterred, the Black Threnody piles on a little more sail and shoots past the other vessel, slowing at the last moment and slipping into the line of ships as neatly as if the maneuver had been rehearsed. Laughter floats up from the onlookers and conversation resumes, but it is tinged with an undertone of worry.

What would a Castillian ship under inquisition colors want here?

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois Du Paix was not a man who was in the custom of worrying, but an Inquisitorial ship was still worthy of note. He watched as the ugly behemoth slogged into port, smoking a cigarette on the aft deck. He heard the bo'sun's throaty shouts as the ship was moored. He held the cigarette in his off hand and took one last lungful of the salt air. Turning on his heel, he paced over to the railing overlooking the upper deck and watched the bo'sun yell at the crew, taking special time to tell the youngest members that if they get "ball rot" that they were on their own to get it taken care of and if they don't and it stopped them from duties he'd "personally extricate the offending member."

After the gang plank was dropped and the men on leave were sufficiently scattered into Bilgewater, Francois walked down onto the deck and nodded to the remaining crew, gave the bo'sun a meaningful look. Nothing happens while I'm out, Unless she starts acting up.

He shifts his hips slightly, checking his balance and making sure he felt familiar pressures. Satisfied, went over the plan in his mind.
First, let the boys just get it out of their system, if they run out of money they'll come back faster. Then, get supplies and get ready to set out again. He couldn't remember what it was off the top of his head that they were going after next. He'd consult his charts when he got back, but tonight, drink a game, fun.

He wandered in between the "L"s eyeing various establishments.
The Scurvy Dog, Pass.
Bells and Whistles, Maybe.
Teeth and Ankles, Pass.
Smiling Chambermaid, Maybe.
Coffin, Hell no.
Captain's Daughter, Maybe.
He finally decided on the Captain's Daughter, strolling over, he slid in the front door.

 

[Armphid]

There was a meaty thump and a crack and the third man fell down behind Teeth and Ankles. Three scraggly, wild looking, half dressed pirates lay on the ground, groaning and moving weakly. They were almost immediately swarmed by a quintet of women dressed in long dresses that covered their feet completely, allowing only flashes of simple shoes beneath. The upper parts of the dresses did show a bit more, however, as despite the appearance of gentleness and modesty, Teeth and Ankles was still a house of ill-repute.

"Don't zink to hide any, girls," a woman's voice cautioned. Her dress was more concealing that the others, with a high neck, though it was sleeveless and she wore long, elbow length gloves. "You know ze rules for zem zat try to fuck and run." The woman was pretty, though not strikingly so, a Montaigne woman in her 40's, with elaborately curled blond hair that showed brown at the roots.

The girls looked back at her and all curtseyed as they stood up from the pirates to deposit the money they'd stripped from them into the madame's hands. "Oui, madame," they chorused.

She tucked it into the bodice of her dress. It would be put into the general pool and divided among the girls at the end of the night, after the house's cut, of course. "Back inside zen, all of you. Many more men tonight." The older woman smiled up at the man who had beaten the welchers into submission, "And you, m'sieur, merci beaucoup. How can we zank you?"

Richter Stroheim shook his head and inclined his head to the far smaller woman. He towered over her by almost a foot and probably weighed over twice what she did. "It is what you have paid for, mame'selle," he said in a light baritone, his speech carrying a clear Eisen accent. "But I am glad to have been of service to you."

What his mother would think of him. Protecting Jennies from patrons who tried to get theirs and slip out without paying.

"Bien sur, young man." She stepped a bit closer and smiled at him coyly, "Alzhough I am sure zat we can make...other arrangements to zank you as well? I assure you you would not be disappointed."

Richter met her eyes, the intensity of his blue gaze enough to make her pull hers away after a few moments. "Tempting, mame'selle, but I do not mix business and pleasure, as the Vendel say."

She sighed but grinned, "I zink you are just shy. But, I do not insist!"

He gestured to the men on the ground, "Shall I move them? Or perhaps stay in case they decide to cause further trouble?"

"Non," she shook her head and gestured down the corner of the "L" where a group of other men were coming. "Zeir shipmates are coming for zem already, I zink. Word travels fast, non?"

"Lads, lads, lads," the lead man in the new group shook his head at the battered men. "Thought you were comin' ashore to wrestle a lass or two, not pick a fight wi' a giant." He looked over at the madame, "All right, Emille?"

"Ze did not want to pay," she shrugged. "I 'ope your bosun speaks to them about it. I would 'ate for it to get around zat your men cannot be trusted with any of our girls 'ere in Bilgewater."

"Twats," he sighed. "All right, boys, pick 'em up and haul 'em back. Maybe they'll think better of it next time." He tipped his hat to Emille as the others hauled their crewmates, none too gently, up and away. "Won't hapen again, love, no need t' go spreadin' tales, eh?"

"Perhaps non." As the pirates retreated, she looked back up at Richter, "I do not zink we will need you again tonight. Word travels fast, as zey say."

He did not speculate on that, merely turned and inclined his head, "Very well then, mame'selle. Until I hear from you again, fare well and good evening." She returned his shallow bow with a curtsey of her own and turned back into her establishment.

Richter watched her go and sighed. This was not what he had in mind when he had set out all those months ago. This was scraping by at best; it did nothing to advance his goals.

The large Eisen strode out into the main corridor of the L's, devouring space quickly with his long strides. This trip to the Straits of Blood had not paid off as he had thought it might. Yet the Sea Dogs had put into port. Perhaps they would-

His thoughts on the matter cut off as he saw the huge ship now mooring at the far end of the docks. His blue eyes widened and then narrowed. A Church ship; and one heavily armed. What were they doing here? Could it be an Inquisition ship? He felt a familiar itch between his shoulderblades. Who else could it be? And yet they were cowards, acting masked and in secret, and this was bold.

He licked his lips and frowned. Whatever the reason, they would soon be leaving their ship. His right hand slid along his belt until it fingered the hilt of his broadsword. Would one of them give him a reason? Likely not. And drawing a weapon meant exile from the Straits of Blood and he was not willing to leave here just yet.

Best to get off the street then.

Richter turned and went into The Captain's Daughter, his favorite place to be in this rowdy and lawless place. He wondered who the captain's daughter would be tonight, and if he would finally give in to temptation and play their silly game of climbing. The Swordsman took a stool at the long bar, "A beer, please."

Probably not tonight. As much as the idea of having fun teased at him, he could not afford it. One mistake and what he carried with him would be discovered and if that happened...he couldn't fight the whole town. Shaking his head, he took the offered beer with a murmured thanks and put a few pennies on the bar.

 

[HookerBoots]

It hadn't been a great day on the streets - dancing here just wasn't a big enough pull when there were willing girls two doors down. But tonight wouldn't be too bad; a full set of docks meant a full tavern, and that meant a lot of sailors, drunk and sober, climbing the rope. The platform was just barely big enough for her to sit with the dress the "daughter" wore on - a frothy concoction in vibrant blue that made her the spot in the room that caught the eye of anyone walking it. And it was a damn good thing she didn't have to climb the rope to get up there, as well. It wouldn't be hard in something less . . . voluminous, but in the blue monster, as she thought of it, it would be near impossible.

Simona settled herself on the platform, her feet dangling over the edge of the platform, and noticed a bit of a buzz in the tavern below. "Oy, lads! What's the news?" she called, waving down at a few of the regulars.

A burly Ussuran sailor responded, "A ship has docked, Lady." His eyes traveled over the room, as though judging the crowd. "It flies the Thean Cross - Castillian, under the colors of the Inquisition."

Swallowing a cold lump of fear, Simona nodded. "That's different," she called back. "Thanks, friend - it's hard to get news up here!" Internally, her stomach was churning, her mind reeling. How could it be? They wouldn't have bothered to follow her out here, it would be insane! Of course, if she'd learned anything about her father during her . . . time with him, it was that the man was far from sane.

A hooting sound came from below, and Simona looked down to see a young sailor, barely old enough to shave, tugging experimentally on the rope. He was drunk enough to make the climb chancy, but not drunk enough that she was worried about him breaking his fool neck. But she did have a role to play here. "Oh, my, is that someone trying to climb my ladder?" She tilted her head and looked down at him, waving one hand. "Please, stranger, it's been so long since I've had a kiss!"

As he started up the rope, she caught sight of two men standing near each other - one of them looked like every man in here, save a touch taller than most. The other, however, was a giant; he made the man near him look like he was average height, at the best. She thought she'd seen the giant before; he was a bruiser at one of the brothels, Simona thought. Couldn't be sure, as she tried to keep her distance from the whorehouses - they hated freelancers.

"Ugh . . bloody long rope," the young man climbing panted, his face a bit red. He was almost halfway now, and that meant it was time to turn up the charm.

Simona tossed her hair over her shoulders, the black locks reaching almost to the platform she sat on. The motion had the advantage of exposing the low neckline of the dress - as well as what it held. "I'm sure it is," she said coyly, "but you're so strong and tough, I'm sure you can do it."

One of the men who'd helped 'encourage' the young man climbing snickered loudly. "Don' be s'sure, lass! He's only a cabin boy!" The rest of the table broke into raucous laughter, vigorous backslapping, and shouted obscenities from the other tables.

Since it was her job to stand up for the man climbing her rope - kiss or fall - she put on an expression of slightly sly defensiveness. "At least he's trying for me," she hollered down. "You could try as well, grandfather, and see which of you does better!"

The yelling increased the number of drinks bought by the men down there, for themselves, and occasionally for the 'saucy wench' on the platform, as well as adding to the entertainment value. In this case, the man in question lifted his tankard to her, drained the rest, and motioned for the serving girl to get him another. "M'be I will, lass! Show you how an experienced man does things!"

"Your friend will still have the first kiss of the night," she said, smiling encouragingly at the young man. He was close enough for her to be able to tell that he was at least not repulsive, which was always a bonus. There were nights when it seemed like the only men strong enough to make the climb were the ones who had the added strength of ugly. "Come on, my fine lad, you can do it!"

With a final grunt, the young man lifted himself onto the small extra space on the platform, then beamed at her. "I think," he said throwing an obscene gesture to the group of his friends on the floor, "I'm owed somethin'."

Simona smiled, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. "That you do, lad!" She leaned in, pressing her lips to his. She felt his hands move to encircle her, and let them, for a moment. The kiss deepened a bit, and she was surprised - most men his age hadn't had a chance to do much kissing. After a second, she pulled back a little. "One kiss for one climb," she said softly, "but you can keep trying after this, if you like," adding a wink.

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana stood in front of The Silk Sheet, clad in a short red dress and black corset with her dark hair piled high on her head and her ruby lips smiling an inviting smile at the passers-by. She looked every inch the sort of Jenny that the Sheets was famous for, head and shoulders the rank and file of the working girls here in The Straits. In rapid, flowing pidgin, a hybrid of Montaigne, Avalonian, Vodacce and Castille, the great seafaring nations of Theah, she touted the looks and skills of the girls inside.

While on the outside, she was the pretty, bold courtesan, inside she was sighing inwardly. Bilgewater made a great hiding place, but it was wearing fast on her and her sister, Diana. They'd come here almost a year ago, when Luci was nineteen and her sister seventeen, fleeing Villanova's agents all the while. They'd found sanctuary in the Pirate town, but it had come at a price. Luciana was forced to work as a jenny, not because she particularly needed the money, but because if she spent like there was no bottom to the barrel without a job, someone would realize that she had money squirreled away and would come looking. She could handle herself in a fight, but her sister wasn't trained like she was, and Luciana would rather sell herself than risk her sister becoming like her, a cold, vicious soul completely devoid of even the barest shred of decency.

So there she stood, playing at being a common whore when she knew tricks that could curl the toes of the legendary Captain Reis himself, much less these simpletons. As sailors passed by, she kept her ears open, catching snatches of conversation out of the background hubbub.

"...Kill me that whore, gettin' me beat like that..."

"...Whaddyou mean, Berek's in port? God, we gotta get outta here or Bonnie'll 'ave our guts for garters..."

"...heard that Castillian out there was sent by Verdugo 'imself, dunno why..."

Luci started at this last bit. There were people here in town who would want to know that, not least of whom was Genevieve, her friend and the Jenny's guild's only representative in Bilgewater. She paid Luciana for any information that came her way, and that there was a Castillian man o' war here on Inquisitor Verdugo's orders was the sort of thing she would ask for, to say nothing of the fact that she needed to get off the street. She was wearing Villanova's brand, and while the Inquisition was hardly friendly with Vodacce, anyone branded by a noble could be ransomed back to the branding lord, usually in exchange for a couple of imprisoned missionaries or, more likely, a couple of Vodacce slave girls.

She turned and went back into the Sheets, looking for the madame. She found her talking to a new girl who was even younger than Luciana's sister, a little Ussuran thing with the starved look of a pirate captive and the hunted expression of a fugitive. The madame was explaining how the trade worked in the Silken Sheets when Luciana interrupted her.

{Vodacce} "I'm leaving for the night, miss Harcourte." Luciana said quickly. She turned to leave, hoping Madame Harcourte wouldn't pay her much attention, but she hadn't made it two steps before she felt a hand on her arm.

{Vodacce} "No you are not! I do not pay you to come and go as you like!" Madame Harcourte said icily.

Luci shrugged off the Madame's hand and kept walking. {Vodacce} "You get back here right now, you harlot!" Luci almost stopped and turned around. Then, through the open doorway, she saw the setting sunlight catch several small boats coming in from the bay, and she knew time had run out. She had to get out, had to get home to make sure her sister was alright. The inquisition's men were brutal, and if they were looking for someone, they weren't above rape and torture to get information. So Luciana flipped a single finger up and raised her fist over her shoulder, walking out into the dusk.

That was when she found out that the Castillians had already come ashore, and what she'd seen was the second wave. There weren't a lot of them yet, but here and there were men in the red and gold of The Inquisition, asking questions and looking around.

Damn it! She needed to get off the street and find someone to take her home. Looking about, she darted into the first open door she passed, which was the dimly lit entrance to the ever-crowded, ever-bawdy Captain's Daughter. She slipped in the door and faded into the crowd until she came to a corner of the room, where she stood with her back to the wall, her arms crossed high on her chest. Safe for the moment, she assessed the crowd.

There were a lot of young, drunken sailors in here, but not ones who would, or could, stand up to a few Inquisitors. There were a few stand-outs, however. There was a man who had the arrogant swagger of a captain about him, with tanned skin and flashing eyes. Strangely, he wore a captain's hat but carried neither sword nor pistol, instead only wearing a pair of knives.

On the platform tonight was a semi-regular, the small, pretty Castillian named Simona. Luci had seen her at the Daughter a few times before, but they'd never spoken directly, and for this, the slender acrobat probably wouldn't be much help, and she kept looking.

Finally, her eyes settled on the form of the large, pale man at the bar, nursing a beer. Tall, well-muscled, looked like he knew how to handle himself...in short, he was perfect. She'd never met him before, but that almost never stopped Luciana and right now, she'd lay him on an iceberg and not complain, nevermind awkward introductions. She had to get home to her sister, and if that took making a new friend, then so be it. Cutting through the crowd like a knife, she swanned up next to the big man at the bar and flashed him a smile.
This close, she could see that he was an Eisen, and a relatively young one at that, probably not much older then she was. She didn't speak Eisen, but a fair number of Southern Eisen spoke Vodacce, so she decided to try her native language first.

{Vodacce} "Evening, sir." She said, smiling winsomely. "Fancy a little company?"

 

[Armphid]

There had been a huge cheer as the young sailor, little more than a boy really, got his kiss from the captain's daughter. Richter smiled faintly as the beaming young man had given a short bow to the crowd before descending the rope. Good for him; he'd seen a man once think that climbing the rope earned him more than a kiss.

It was a surprisingly long way down to floor.

He drank his beer slowly, not to savor the taste; Theus forfend! He doubted any of these pirates had ever tasted real Eisen beer! But it fit well with his appearance here. After all, he was no sailor and thus did not have a lot of money to spend beyond what he earned acting as muscle for a few of the houses of ill-repute. Pirates had no need of a Swordsman's services, after all, and some were Swordsmen themselves. So it behooved him to spend carefully to keep up appearances.

From his position at the end of the bar, Richter kept an eye on both the entrance to The Captain's Daughter and surveying the gathering throng. They were boisterous, yes, and spending like there was no tomorrow but there was more tension than usual as well. The news about the Castillian ship had those not yet fully drunk on edge.

His eyes lingered on one man, taller than most and moving with a clear air of authority and confidence. He was no crewman, surely. Yet he was very lightly armed, which also made him a fool or a very dangerous man. And he did not move like a fool. Was he with the Inquisition? He didn't look Castillian, but it was unwise to assume when it came to the Church; they had pawns in all nations. His thoughts were broken off as he saw someone approaching him, her path as direct as the crowd let it be.

Richter turned to face her and then blinked; his face plainly showing his astonishment as he reflexively took a sudden breath. The woman who slipped up to him was a classic Vodacce beauty, her origin clear even before she spoke in a sweet voice that sent a shiver up his spine. Her hair was so dark it seemed to almost drink in the light around it, contrasting perfectly with pale, unmarred skin, and framing a stunning round face that he was sure blood had been spilled over before. She wore a corset that was doing amazing things to what he was sure were already impressive and immaculate assets; a garment of far higher quality that he would expect from a woman here in the Straits.

{Vodacce} "Evening, sir." She said, smiling winsomely. "Fancy a little company?"

He should say no. This woman was a dangerous beauty, no question. {Vodacce} "I did not expect company, nor was I seeking it," he began. He hadn't used his Vodacce in a bit and he spoke slowly at first. But he found his tongue warming to it almost immediately, "But I could not turn away such a woman as you, signora."

Fool.

Richter stood and offered his stool to her, "Please, sit and let me buy you a drink."

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana sat on the stool next to the Eisen man, perching delicately. Her ankles were crossed, and the black Montaigne heels she wore had their points resting on the bar stool's lower strut. She raised one hand to get the bartender's attention, and was presently given a stoneware mug of red wine that smelled like it could be used to clean decks. She took a sip, winced, and managed not to shudder only through an effort of will.

"So, signor, what may I call you, and what brings you to the fair town of Bilgewater, cosmopolitan home of freedom and refinement that it is?" Luciana asks, letting irony seep into her tone. "You seem too...aristrocratic for such a place, if I may say so." She smiled to let him know that she wasn't trying to be insulting, she was merely curious.

 

[Armphid]

He watched her carefully as she took her seat; moving with a great deal of grace that sent another warning flag waving in the back of his mind. This woman, a girl almost, was far more than what she seemed.

As was he, and others here for that matter.

Richter smiled in sympathy at her expression as she drank. "I see the wine is as good as the beer," he chuckled in a low, rueful tone. No need for the bartender to hear and slip them something. He spoke louder then, "You may call me Richter, which is also my name. Richter Stroheim."

He took another drink of his beer and raised his brows at her question. "I don't think I am the only one here whose birth may be higher than Bilgewater would suggest." Richter gestured at the crowd in general with his right hand, "I came here for the same reason as many of them; to see what if I could find some ship or venture to help further...certain goals."

He shrugged and took another, deeper pull. He was getting close to saying too much. "And you, signora, other than beautiful, which I am sure you tire of hearing, what may I call you?" He had given her his name, yes, but he did not expect hers in return, nor would he ask. Whatever nickname she gave him would do well, as he was aware than many people came here to hide.

And with an Inquisition ship in town, perhaps they all should start hiding harder.

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana dipped her head and blushed prettily. Blushing on command was an easy trick, but a useful one. She simply remembered something embarrassing and the heat would rise to her cheeks. From under her lashes, she studied Richter. He was good-looking, powerfully built, and had the bearing of someone accustomed to command, either a noble or a military man. He was eisen, but he carried no dracheneisen that she could see, nor did he wear a uniform. A mercenary, perhaps?

No matter. He looked dangerous enough and that would do. "Well, Herr von Stroheim, you may call me whatever you like." She said with a smile. Her Vodacce accent turned her pronunciation of his name into a soft and lilting thing. "But my name is Luciana." She pronounced the C as "sh." She shrugs. "Every one around here calls me Luci." Now she pronounces it in the Avalonian manner, with the C as an S.

She looks around the tavern. "If you're looking for a ship, you've come to the right place. There are five in port. The Black Dawn is in, but Capitan Berek doesn't often take commissions. The Vodacce privateers will do anything for a price, if you don't mind working with the...spiders." She spits the slang for Vodacce as though it was a curse. She shrugs again. "There's a new ship in today, too, with a montaigne Capitan." She points across the tavern. "That's him there. I saw him come onto the dock this afternoon."

 

[Armphid]

In the back of his mind, he suspected that her blush was not genuine. But Theus help him if he could not feel moved by it. "Please, no "von" in my name," though the way she'd said it had sent chills through him. Her own name was as lovely as the woman herself. "Luciana then," he made a point of pronouncing it as she had, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

He nodded as she spoke of the ships, "I do not seek to hire a ship, but to find one where I might make my name and my fortune." Richter's smile was bitter for a moment, "There is neither to be made Eisen unless you are one of the Iron Princes." Her rancor regarding her own nation was very interesting. But then, she too had a reason for being in the Straits of Blood. "This Montaigne captain, or perhaps the Sea Dogs hold the best chances for me. I mean no offense, but on a Vodacce ship, I would be a fly in the spider's web, I think."

He looked down at her, an easy thing to do. How lovely she was! He felt a very familiar ache and tried to wash it away with the last mouthful of stale, watered down beer. "Forgive me if I pry, and I will mind my business if you wish it, but...what do you seek here, Luciana? You seem to belong here no more than I."

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana smiled a wry, half-smile, only one side of her mouth quirking up. It was a strange expression, full of old hurts and memories and a more genuine expression than her earlier contrived grin. "Oh, I belong here." She gestures at herself. "This is the work of clothing and training, with a little help from nature. I am just a poor Vodacce girl from a poor Vodacce house who had neither fate nor family to aid me."

Luciana looks down at the bar and takes another swallow of wine. "This swill tastes like the inside of a pirate's boot." She looks back up. "Life was...hard in Vodacce. So I took my younger sister and ran to where everyone else runs when they have nowhere else to go. That was a year ago." She watches his face, noting the Eisen's expression "Oh, it isn't all bad. I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and my sister. Its enough."

She pauses. Now for the touchy part. "I should check on her. The Inquisition will not be kind if they find her, and she is young and untrained. Would you...would you escort a lady home, signor? The Inquisition would not trouble you, I think, and I'm so very worried about Diana. I can pay you for your time, in coin or...otherwise." She puts one hand to her throat and looks up at Richter, her eyes wide and pleading.

 

[Armphid]

Richter was shocked by what she said in some ways; though he understood the root emotions that he could see in her lovely face and hear in that dulcet voice. He was seeing a bit of the real woman now, or so he thought. She may just be playing him further...but if she was, it made no difference.

When she mentioned fleeing with her sister, he lowered his eyes to the bar and was caught up in memories of his own. The stiff spot of the brand on his back ached, as though the recall of those days and weeks after it had been burned into had called a lick of the old fire back into it. But to live here like this, and with her appearance, could only mean that she...

It must have shown in his face, for she dismissed any concern. Not bad, she said. That too was a feeling he knew well. Accepting horror for having nothing else.

The touch of her hand to her throat was artistry; leading his eyes to exactly where he should not be looking but where he greatly desired to. Richter felt his blood stir for not the first time since she'd approached him. In those moments, he ached to claim exactly that which she was offering him.

But he felt something else stir as well. A cold and angry determination.

She was afraid for her sister. Afraid the Inquisition would hurt her, torture her, kill her perhaps. It might be a trap. The girls might lure him in and attempt to kill him. It was possible they had found out about his secret or just thought he looked like a wealthy mark. But she also just might care about her sister.

And this sister, though she was not his own, he may be able to help save.

Richter had kept silent for a few moments after she asked and then he took a deep breath. "I would be honored to escort you." He stood and put down a few more pennies to pay for her wine and for a tip. "I shall deliver you safely."

"Let us go then, so you can see your sister." The tall Eisen offered her his left arm before starting to walk through the bar to the door. "Payment," his voice quivered a bit on the word as thoughts of what she'd offered flitted unbidden through his mind, "is not something...we need not discuss now."

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois loved taverns for one reason only, people watching. And boy if this one was not perfect. He gestured to the bartender, a few coins lined between his fingers. The barman looked at him for a second, studying, before coming over and taking his drink order. {Montaigne} "A cup of your finest brandy, Monsieur. And One for the boy who got himself a kiss." He let the coins roll of his fingers into the barman's open palm. He'd had to admit, when he stepped in, it was just in time to see the lad start to climb. He would have lost any wager put on the boy.

He eyed the daughter, She was quite beautiful. Castillian, though the blue dress she wore, was not nearly magnificent enough to suit her. Though she was enticing enough to make him ignore the dress. He reclined back in a chair in the corner as the barman brought him his drink. Looking at the rope, he wondered if he'd make it up there or not.

His attention was immediately called to a woman who'd been residing in the corner of his perception for a few moments when she pointed to him. She was as Vodacce as the day was long, talking to some giant at the bar. He wondered if the dreadnaught been dispatched because of him. Light piracy, freebooting, it surely was not enough to warrant an Inquisitorial ship. He debated leaving right then, telling the bo'sun that they were moving up the time table and to gather the men to scrape what supplies they could for a fast jump to another island.

No, stepping up the timetable would tip his hand, let them know he knew. He watched them get up and moved towards the door. Francois threw back the last of his brandy and Started walking towards the climb to the daughter. He put on his hat and gave a single hearty laugh to the surrounding drunkards. Seizing the rope in one hand, the other dipped into his coat and pulled a single long stemmed red rose. He clutched it in his teeth gently, as to not crush the delicate blooms stalk. The threw his right hand up and began his ascent one hand over the other, right left right, climbing like a seasoned mariner.

He was not so bold as to try and shoot up the rope like a musket ball. This was more about diligence and stamina than speed. As he reached to top he hauled himself the final length and perched himself across from the Castillian maiden, removed the rose and said {Castille}"A token for a beautiful girl. You're far too pretty to be in a place like this."

 

[HookerBoots]

Simona crossed her legs at the ankles, waiting as the crowd milled about below, some of the men draining tankards and looking up at her wistfully, some of them being rowdy and joking about what they would have to do to get her to give them more than a kiss. And still others, the ones she strained to hear, talking about what the Inquisition ship could be doing here.

This was the boring part of the job - no one close enough to talk to, and the best she could do was bellow down to the men on the floor, which wasn't something to do when the booze was flowing as it was now.

But she noticed the tall man, the one with the brown hair who'd been standing near the giant earlier, sitting and watching her. She smiled a little at him, uncertain. He couldn't be one of the Inquisition men, he had the bearing of a pirate, maybe even a captain. That would be something - if he were interested, and had his own ship, maybe she could convince him to get her out of here before the Inquisition found out who and what she was.

He ordered something, and started to eye the rope as he drank. From the corner of her eye, Simona saw the giant leave with one of the girls that worked at The Silk Sheet - Luci, they called her, but her real name was longer. Idly, she wondered what they were heading off for; there was no reason to assume it would be anything other than business, however. But as she looked back at the man that she was pretty sure now was a captain - he moved too self-assuredly to be anything else - she was a little surprised. He was at the foot of the rope already, hat on his head and a rose between his teeth.

Simona blinked, then grinned broadly as the men at the surrounding tables started to cheer and jeer at him. But he was doing well - the climb was long enough that most men needed to take it slow and steadily. She'd seen one rat-faced man climb it almost like a squirrel, the fastest she'd ever seen anyone do it, but he'd been about half the size of the average sailor, and an acrobat to boot.

In a surprisingly short time, however, the captain was hauling himself up onto the platform with her, to the cheering of the rest of the bar. He presented the rose to her, and she blushed artfully. {Castille} "Thank you kindly, senor. And for your compliment as well." The rose was tucked behind her right ear, the bloom showing brightly against the darkness of her hair. "But being beautiful doesn't keep one from having to eat regularly."

There was a series of cries from below, urging her to give the man his forfeit, and she smiled at him, her lips curving enticingly. "I believe they are right, senor. I owe you a favor now as well." And she needed to make it damned good. "My time up here is almost done. After I get down, would you be interested in a longer conversation, or perhaps more?" She had to find out if he was what she thought - and if she could charm him into letting her onto his ship. Before he could answer, she pressed forward, lips meeting his. There was a passion in her kiss that she wasn't feigning - though almost more desperation than lust, even though he was handsome.

 

[Kinkerhell]

As Francois kisses Simona, the crowd cheers loudly. As Luciana and Richter stand amidst the commotion, however, the crowd's cheers turn to angry yells and frightened squeals as more than a dozen men in the red and gold livery of the Castillian Inquisition push their way into The Captain's Daughter. The Castillion stormtroopers clear the are around the door, clubbing patrons with rifle butts and sword hilts. Their leader steps into the gap and says in broken Avalonian, "This town has been occupied by the Inquisition. All citizens will assemble in the town Square, as will all visitors."

The crowd goes berserk.

A wave of sword, dagger, and bottle brandishing humanity hits the Inquisitorial soldiers, who reply with bullets and bayonets. A half dozen sailors go down, shot dead, and one Jenny staggers back, bleeding from a thigh wound. The crowd, enraged, throws itself into the fray. For a moment, the tavern is a sea of pandemonium, before the sailors club the castillians to the ground and the Jennies stab the leader to death with hairpins and concealed knives. The whole event, from the Castillian's entrance to the victory of the sailors takes maybe thirty seconds. The crowd lets out a chorus of bloodthirsty yells, bolstered by its victory. A group of pirates, brandishing pistols and cutlasses, lurches out into the street. For a moment, it seems that a full scale riot is seizing Bilgewater.

Then there is a far-off boom, and a cloud of tightly-packed steel spheres tear into the group spilling into the streets, ripping sailors, Jennies, hapless patrons, and the facade of the tavern apart in equal measure. Blood and splinters choke the air as more booms follow, and grapeshot and cannonballs begin slammig into crowds and buildings on the docks of Bilgewater. Out in the bay, the Galicia's second gundeck roars, the five cannon hurling ten-pound brass balls into one of the caravels anchored at the dock.

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

The kiss broke as all hell broke loose and Francois looked into the girl's eyes, himself metamorphosing into an authority figure.{Castille} "If you're more than a pretty face and a nice pair of lips, I think it's best we get as far from here as we can." He griped the rope and slid down landing with a barely perceptible thud on the floorboards. As he rose from his squatted landing there were two large daggers in his hands just a few inches shorted than his forearm. He turned with his back to the girl facing the door and the traveling barroom brawl. He threw a quick glance back to the young Castillian girl {Castille} "Are you coming, mon cheri? I'd lo-"

Francois was cut short by the keening whine of a closing cannonball, all he could do was shut up and toss his arms across his face to hopefully block a shower of debris. He felt a storm of splinters impact on the fine leather of his coat, thankfully without either enough force to penetrate or lacking a leading point. Without looking back again he shouted {Castille} "Definitely the time to go!"

What the hell was he doing? He didn't know that girl, for all he knew she was going to knife him in his sleep and try to take his guilder, or his ship. But he didn't care, the Inquisition had decided they wanted to play rough so he'd show them rough. Waving a final beckoning to the girl he started towards the door.

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana screamed as The Captain's Daughter began to come apart around her. The cloud of flying splinters tore through the room, killing and wunding patrons. A splinter of wood a handspan long creased the Vodacce woman's face, leaving a thin, surgically straight cut across her left cheek. Luciana cursed savagely, a flowing torrent of invective in four languages, and looked around for a way out.

There were plenty. Other than the front entrance, there was a back door, and the cannon barrage had made a hash of the tavern walls. Looking at Richter, Luciana yelled over the din of screaming and the thunderclap reports of Bilgewater's dock cannon firing back out at the Galicia.

{Vodacce} "Come with me! We have to get out of here before the Inquisition ship reloads!" She started toward the backdoor and nearly fell as something heavy lurched against her. She shoved it aside impatiently, only belatedly recognizing the tattered form of Katya, an Ussuran Jenny about the same age as her sister. She's covered in blood and mewling with pain. Half her face was torn away, wood fragments lodged in the ripped flesh. "Oh my god." Luciana breathed. She knew that Katya was dying and that she couldn't save the girl even if she was the best doctor in Theah, but leaving her to either die of her wounds or be taken by the inquisition was too cruel to contemplate.

Luciana's hand made a rapid motion near the hem of her dress, and suddenly there was a shining sliver of steel in her hand. Murmuring soothing noises, she reached down and covered the Ussuran girl's eyes.

Then she cut her throat.

Katya arched, and her heels beat a rapid tattoo on the floor. She convulsed once, twice, then was gone. A tear rolled down Luciana's cheek and she bowed her head for a moment, but that was all the time she had to spare, because seeing the young woman there had broken through the immediate panic. Now all she could think of was her sister. What had become of Diana with the soldiers and the shelling?

She looks back at Richter. "Two hundred senators for you if you'll help me get to my sister and-" she was cut off by the next barrage of cannon fire. The barrage tore away half the tavern in an awful din. Luciana ducked. "And help us to the docks!"

 

[HookerBoots]

The first thing that ran through her mind, as the kiss broke was Oh, god, he's a good kisser.

The second thing was the chaos all around them. The Inquisition had broken down the door, and the sounds from the harbor meant that there would be more broken in seconds. As debris showered down from the walls and roof, and the captain - Simona was sure of it now - called to her, she nodded and bent herself backward, reaching behind the platform to the hidden door there. She kept some of her things there when she was on shift, to easily change afterwards, and thank every power that was that she did.

Tucking the pack under one arm, she grabbed the rope and slid down, the second cannon roar ripped through the air, and she felt the ground shudder as the cannons blasted at the docks. {Castillie} "Oh, I'm coming, senor, this isn't my kind of party," she yelled over the din as she fell into step just barely behind the taller man. As the ducked and wove their way between the crowd that was roaring and fighting and dying, she snaked the leather belt out of the center of the pile, strapping it around her waist. She always felt better armed; it was a damned shame that it wasn't 'suitable' for the Captain's Daughter to be armed as well.

With one hand on her pistol, the other clutching the few possessions she'd tucked together in the event of a rapid evacuation, Simona smiled fiercely up at her brown-haired savior. "And I assure you, I'm more than a pretty face and an excellent pair of lips." The cannon fire wasn't stopping, and she could see through the hole in the wall of the Daughter that the rest of Bilgewater was faring as well as the building they were in was. She began to swear under her breath in every language she knew. Was this her fault? They'd wanted people to line up, to identify them - were they looking for her?

For a moment, guilt swamped her sense of self-preservation, but a drunken sailor crashing towards her woke her at the last moment. With surprising grace, she slipped around him, tripping him so that he crashed onto what was left of a tabletop instead of onto the sharp, splintered end of a broken timber. There was another ear-splitting explosion, and the building across the way from the tavern was broken apart, people spilling from it bloody and panicked. "If you have a plan, lead the way, senor! The sooner we get out of here, the better in my mind!"

 

[Armphid]

I feel like I am home.

That was the thought that came to Richter's mind as thundering cannons blew into The Captain's Daughter and the rest of Bilgewater beyond it. Men and women were screaming, wood flew in and spun in a spray far more lethal that the balls of iron blasting through the raucous town, blood already covered the floor and misted in bright arterial red in the air, and though he felt the same shock, fear, and anger that everyone else did it was muted and buried under familiarity.

Richter lurched into motion following the Vodacce woman as she called to him and sprinted for the back of the tavern. His sword ripped free from its sheath as someone stumbled into her but he held his hand as it turned out not to be a maddened attacker but the torn form of a dying woman.

Luciana knew her, he could tell. And he also knew, as she started murmuring to the horribly wounded girl what she was doing. There was nothing they could do to save her. But they could give her mercy. As the young Jenny's heels tapped on the floor, he bowed his head, even in the din and the carnage.

At Luciana's voice, he just nodded. Richter swept the gorgeous and dangerous young woman into motion with one arm before stepping to one side, his weapons ready and his eyes alert, "And onto a ship," he added. "Done! Let's find her now, lead on, Luciana, and quickly!"

Truthfully, he'd have done it for less, or even for nothing. But she didn't need to know that.

Death rained around as the two broke into a run, the tall Swordsman following the dark clad courtesan to where her sister was supposed to be. He offered a silent prayer as they ran that the girl would be unhurt and that he could see them to safety; for he knew they needed all the help they could get.

His mind churned as they ran. Getting to the docks and a ship would be easier said than done. Everyone would be trying to get there. And the Castillians would know it. So they would block it off. He alone could not break whatever blockade they had formed.

Luciana was heading to a collection of hovels and huts back from the Ls, partially sheltered by tall trees from the elements. It looked as though one of the cannonballs had smashed through a few of the trees, the trunks snapped off as though some giant infant had broken twigs. She lead him to a rough hut of mud walls and a thatched roof, ducking inside.

Richter held guard at the entrance, looking back in to make sure he was not needed inside. How to get through to the docks? Then he heard a shrill, terrified scream that came from no human throat and saw the way. "Hurry, Luciana! Our ride to the docks is coming, but it will pass fast!"

 

[ValiaSirnoca]

Luciana darted toward the tiny hovel, praying that her sister was alright. The structure seemed intact, thank Theus, which meant that her sister probably hadn't been killed by cannon fire. She raced toward the door, then hesitated, for the doorway was hanging open. Amongst the screaming and yelling and sounds of combat, Luciana couldn't make out any sounds, but she feared the worst. Reaching up to her corset, Luciana's fingers dipped under the bottom edge of the garment and slid something free, a slim throwing knife twin to the one in her right hand. Thus armed, she ran through the door.

What she was confronted with was one of her worst fears realized. In the room were two Castillian men wearing the uniforms of the Inquisition. They had pinned Diana on the floor and torn or cut away her clothing. Her slender young form, a less voluptuous version of Luciana's own was stretched out, and on of the Castillians was laughing as he held her wrists above her head. The other was between her legs and violating her brutally, laughing into her small, elfin face and large, fearful dark eyes as she struggled and fought and screamed for her sister.

Luciana didn't even stop to think. Her right hand flickered out and cast its knife toward the one holding her sister's wrists. He had his back turned, and never even knew what killed him. THe knife took him in the nape of the neck and he pitched forward, dead. His companion had just enough time to see death coming toward him in the form of a Vodacce harlot. He tried to stand, but had not yet completely straightened before Luciana's left hand moved and tossed the throwing knife right through the Stormtrooper's eye, and he followed his friend down to Legion.

Luciana rushed forward to gather up her sister in her arms, but Diana shied away, as skittish as a frightened animal. Luciana drew back, not without pain, and looked over her sister. There were some bruises forming on her clear, pale skin, and one high cheekbone had a scrape on it, probably from the floor. Looking down, Luciana saw blood on the inside and back of her sister's thighs, and had to fight back a wave of tears. How long had they been at this? The fighting hadn't started that long ago!

Luciana heard Richter's call and knew they were out of time. She looked about and spotted what she was searching for, a large cnavas sea bag. Most of her possessions were stored in it at all times, because she knew that this day would come. Maybe not for the reasons that it had, but she knew they'd have to run again. She reached in and pulled out a fine, dark cloak and turned back to Diana. She reached out and gently wrapped it around the girl's shoulders and said, "Sweet one, we have to go now." Diana didn't respond, or even look at her, but she did stir and straighten up. She had a haunted, faraway look in her eyes and she moved as if in great pain, but she moved, and that was good enough.

Diana hefted the sea bag over one shoulder, took her sister's right hand in her own left, and led her out the door. She tapped Richter on the shoulder and said grimly, "We're ready. Let's get out of here."

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois eyed the pistol in the girls hand and he was sure at least he was not going to be running an escort to the Threnody. "Come with me! We'll get out on the bay! If we can get past them no one can catch the Threnody in a leviathan like that!" He shouted, only telling her a third of his plan. He was angry, beyond that. He and his crew had been on the sea for over three months, and everyone needed even just one full night.

Francois wove in between wreckage and took the occasional slice at the back of an otherwise occupied Inquisition soldier. He was constantly having to adjust his footwork occasionally spinning around in a complete circle to maintain his forward direction over beams strewn around the street and over the occasional broken body. He let out a shouted laugh as he pirouetted past a soldiers thrust spear. When he was behind the inquisitorial pawn, he slid his arms across the soldiers front. With a grunt, twin bloody lines flashed into existence, one across his neck, the other across his belly. {Montaigne} "Should have stayed home for guard duty!" he scolded the soldier as the man fell to the ground.

As they reached the end of the "L"s Francois stopped and pulled the girl into cover behind a toppled second story that had fallen into the street. There were at least a dozen soldiers standing guard over the head of the docks with crates set in a makeshift blockade. {Castille} "Chéri, We have a big problem in between ourselves and mon amour." He looked her over considering, "What can you do in a fight? These," He reversed his grips on the dagger, "Are the tools of my trade." He laughed, it was a quick and worried thing. "I assume you're a decent shot?"

 

[Armphid]

"Gut," he likely surprised her by putting his sheathing his sword. The Eisen's eyes were trained on something approaching them fast through the smoke and chaos. A cart, normally used to move simple grain and goods was thundering towards them, pulled by a pair of fear maddened horses.

That should be enough speed and weight to crash through a line of Castillians.

"Forgive my hands," he offered before he reached down and picked up the two women. The smaller, slighter one whimpered and shuddered at his touch and grasp, and his heart ached but he could pay it no mind now.

He tensed his body and his knees bent as the horses charged towards them. He leaped with all his might, his powerful legs hurling himself and his twin cargo through the air just after the screaming beasts thundered past. For a moment, he feared that they would fall between just in time to be crushed beneath the wildly spinning wheels.

Instead Richter grunted as he rolled to hit the wooden floor of the cart with his broad back, absorbing the impact for the two Vodacce women. He let them go and rolled over, getting to his feet and grabbing the rail at the front of the cart. The reins were tied to it and he yanked the knot undone. There was no stopping or real guiding the horses; they were out of their minds with fear. But perhaps he could aim them.

"We may have to break their line if they are holding the docks," he called back to Luciana. "Brace yourself and make ready, we'll jump back out before the horses hit them!"

The frenzied horses were running in a full, berserk frenzy. They frothed and screamed; the cart hurtling out of the now burning and broken Ls as a third volley blasted over their heads, striking further inland. Richter could see the docks ahead...and as he expected they were held. He pulled one of his pistols and drew a bead as best he could, "Get ready, we're coming up on them!"

He fired, not bothering to check and see the result of the shot before tucking the gun back into his belt. Richter bent down and picked up both girls once more before he grunted and jumped up and back. The cart went on, rattling out from under them and he fell back to earth heavily as the running weight of the wooden vehicle and the insane beasts pulling it charged the Inquisition's men and their blockade.

Richter let the women's feet hit the ground and then broke into a run in the cart's path. It would cover their approach from gunfire; a shield and a battering ram in one. He let Luci and Diana go after a few strides, "Follow me through!" His broadsword rasped free of its sheath and he roared in, his blood surging in his veins, "We smash our way through them all!"

 

[HookerBoots]

The look Simona gave him was full of what must have been a troubling blend of worry and confidence. {Castille} "Yes, I am a decent shot. And," her other hand went to the fencing sword on the other side of the belt, "not bad with this, as well."

Would he judge her, for the rest of it? He might, but it would be a way to ensure that he knew she wouldn't be a burden. And it might be enough to turn the tide of whatever mess they were about to wade into. "Also, senor, before we wade into battle, you should know . . . ."

She pulled the sword from her belt, holding it towards one of the merrily blazing bits of wood on the docks. "I am more than I seem." The blade plunged into the fire, and she steeled herself for the unsettling feeling of bringing the fire under her control - her control, not its own! When Simona pulled the blade back from the wreckage of the crate, the length of it was alight with the fire she had pulled. "El Fuego Adentro," she breathed.

Simona looked back at her new captain friend, feeling the rush of the magic inside of her, feeling the heat of the blade as though she were inside it but not being burned. "I am a witch, senor," she said, flames dancing in her eyes. It was hard to be afraid of anything, with this power at her fingertips. Even the Inquisition had to bow before fire, even if they wished to have her kind dead. Her flaming gaze turned toward the group of soldiers, and her lips pulled back in an almost feral grin. "And they have hunted me long enough," she said, starting forward toward them, heedless of the foolishness of doing so.

 

[Armphid]

The stormtroopers at the makeshift barricade were looking back towards one of their officers whose head had suddenly burst from a gunshot. One of them glanced back at the devastated pirate town and paled, his eyes going wide, {Castille} "Look out!"

The men turned just in time to see the mad horses and start to swing their muskets around to bear before the terrified animals and the mass of wood behind them hit the wall of crates and men at a full on charge. Screams human and animal filled the air and the right side of the improvised picket seemed to explode from the impact. Men flew off the dock and into the water, both alive and dead; a full squad blasted from the path of those who wished to earn the docks. Parts of the cart rained down onto the wood of the dock, the horses no longer seen, having plunged ahead into the drink in their fear and agony.

Before the Castillians could recover, Richter was among them. He seemed, to the shocked stormtroopers, to appear from nowhere. A yellow haired giant roaring now in their own tongue, {Castille} "Die in ignominy, dogs of the Church!"

His thick blade swept out in a wide, shining arc as he stepped up into the breach of the left side of the shattered barricade. The first man in line of the outside of the now halved wall tried to gasp, but his head was flying free before the sound could burst from his lips. Richter's heavy blade buried into the neck of the man beside him, not quite cutting through.

He stepped over the barrier and tore the blade free of the second corpse to thrust hard into a third of the gold and red clad butchers, bending him over the sword as it burst out of his back and splattered his companions with his lifeblood. "So brave firing on whores and drunkards, but one Eisen counts for nine of you!"

Richter's left hand rocketed forward into an iron-fisted punch; his panzerhard driving the face of the man behind the one he'd stabbed back into his head; his skull collapsing under the force of the blow. "Ten."

 

[SwordsOfTheDane]

Francois jumped up onto and over the fallen front as the Castillian witch ran around it. He noted that he started to speed ahead of her. There was a moment when his steps slowed as a cart rammed through the blockade and the giant tore into the remaining horde. Then he spied that boarders were on his ship, and that got on his nerves more than the attack. He sped up, boots slamming into the road. He set his grips to normal as he reached two of the red and gold pawns that the giant had yet to end. They were in his way.

Francois sped in between the two dumbfounded men. When he was right in front of them he knelt low. He straightened suddenly, forcing the twin daggers violently into the bottom of the poor soldiers jaws, through the pallet and into the grey matter above. With a roar and a heavy shove his momentum took the two men off their feet. With a grunt Francois dragged the men's still screaming bodies through the air before driving down with the two daggers. With a final shout he pushed the razor-edged instruments further into their heads, and finally, through the bone at the tops of their heads pinning the twitching corpses to the dock boards.

He threw his hands back to the men's belts hands finding suitably familiar handles. He pulled the knives, sheath and all off of their belts and started sprinting towards the gangplank of the Black Threnody. He clipped the sheaths to his belt and drew the knives and shouted back, {Castille} "Cheri, Be a darling and grab my knives for me as you come?" He managed to flash the little witch a wink as he continued to bolt toward his ship.