Spirits of the Earth

It was a beautiful clear, day. A bit cool perhaps, but not enough to deter the crew from scattering like cockroaches in the light. Zephyr's habit of disappearing once they reached shore always set Morgan on edge. Unwilling to leave the ship herself, it always meant there was someone to watch the ship, giving the other crew members free range to likewise come and go as they pleased.

By sending Cat-Eye ahead to start recruiting more sailors along with a very much needed carpenter, the quartermaster had hoped to have at least Elias around to help. The man's quiet nature and love of maps at least kept him out of her hair when she did not want company.

Unfortunately, though Chris had managed to drag the sailing master along with him and left Morgan on her own. Not of course that she minded too terribly, this was her job on the ship after all as second-in-command. It was just that, for once she would like to not feel obligated to stay with the ship even though everyone knew she would never leave.

She hoped those two knew what they were doing. A look at the rigging's spars would tell even the most untrained eye that they were in need of fixing. Some of the wood had rotted in places and now was only held together with rope and sheer will. It was a miracle it had not given way yet.

Groaning slightly and pacing at the bow of the ship she waited for the recruits to come so that she may survey them herself. A woman's eye was better than a man's after all. With any luck they would be able to make repairs and obtain supplies to weigh anchor within the week. The irritated quartermaster wanted nothing to do with staying at port any longer than she had to. Give the crew too much leeway and they would be slacking on their duties in no time.

At last, Sky thought, Someone left their ship with only one person to guard it. I can sneak on!

Watching the person pacing the ship, Sky realized that this may be her only time to travel to another continent for free. The person on the ship wouldn't be much of a problem—Sky often snuck around to steal things—but what should she do once she was on? Who knows how many people would get on that ship... she could be found right away. But the lure of escaping the streets of Serendipity ruled over all logic. Sky started walking towards the dock, acting like she was some woman's daughter. Or, in the eyes of most, son.

Morgan caught sight of the approaching figure and hopped over the banister by the helm onto the main deck. "Oy!" she shouted down. "You one of the new recruits? Well don't just stand there lolly-gagging. There's work that needs doing. Not going to do itself you know!"

The idea of help at last starting to arrive eased her irritation at least slightly, but did nothing for her impatience. Just because this boy was the first of the newcomers did not mean she would go any easier on him than any other. She had a long list of chores she could not wait to send him off on. "Well hurry up here! I'm not coming down there."

New recruits? Sky thought. That works great. I'll pretend I'm a new recruit, do whatever they thought I was supposed to do, then leave once the ship docks! Perfect!

Looking up at the tatooed lady, Sky declared, "I'll be right up." Climbing up onto the ship, Sky couldn't help but smile. Her plan was going even better than she thought.

Once she was on the big ship, Sky walked over to the woman and said, "So... uh... they didn't really explain to me what I would be doing. Just said to come onto this ship and that the nice looking lady would give me a job. I'm assuming that's you?" Sky put on her best innocent smile—the one she always used when she got caught stealing.

The quartermaster sized the child up and down, not fooled by the cheeky grin. Rough, callused hands gripped the boy's arms, checking muscle mass and for any breaks before stopping at his hands. "Don't know what they were thinking," she muttered to herself.

"Well don't go believing those two. I'm not nice but, I'm fair. I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're young. As our cabin boy, you're the lowest of low. Bottom of the food chain, you hear? You serve us, you do as we say, and I mean all of us. I'm second in command here, you got a problem you come to me. Don't go bothering the captain. To start now you can swab the deck."

Grabbing the child by his upper arm, Morgan pulled him below deck and showed him the supply room. She shoved a bucket and mop into his small hands and instructed him to begin work from the top down. "I want it done before the captain gets back. Now get!"

Not waiting to see what the boy would do, she moved back to pace at the helm and wait. 'Nice, eh? Wonder which one said that. I bet it was Chris. Bastard's making fun of me again. Then again it could have been Eli.' Morgan growled and shook her head. 'Doesn't matter, they should have known better than to send me the boy. I really need to find out his name. Later. I wonder where Zephyr is. I hope he remembered to order more food supplies. I really want to get out of here soon.'

This didn't seem much different than the streets... but unlike the streets, she'd have to do what anyone said. Even if it meant mopping. Sky could tell that the woman didn't think much of her, but Sky was stronger than what met the eye. Her female body didn't show off much muscle, unlike a male body, and the woman obviously thought she was a boy. That was probably for the best. Ships don't like taking 'weak looking' girls like her.

But while she was here, she might as well get as much out of this as possible. Mopping to the best of her ability (even though she had never used a mop and was pretty sure she was doing it wrong), Sky asked, "Um... sorry to disturb you, but is it possible for me to get new clothes? I mean, I know I'm just a cabin boy, but my clothes are really dirty and I feel like whatever I clean up will be dirtied by my clothes... But if that isn't okay, I can just quietly go about my business." Realizing that she had been mopping the same spot for over a minute, Sky stepped forward to mop the area in front of it.

Sadly, Sky had never dealt with wet floor. Face first, Sky slipped onto the ship's surface. Laying on her stomach, Sky held up the mop and declared, "It's okay. The mop didn't break."

Ialu surfaced from the ocean wiping salt-water from his eyes with his hand and pulling a piece of blue hair out of his eyes, he climbed aboard the ship that he'd come to call home, using a bit of his fire magic to dry himself off.  Ialu was lithe muscle on a five foot ten inch frame, with his entire body littered with scars and burns, his eyes were a warm almost sleepy dark color that could really only be described as embers while his hair was almost like the sea itself.  That was nice he thought to himself as he made his way across the deck, slipping on his gun hostler that he'd taken off earlier before the swim, easily keeping up with the movement of the ocean beneath the hull.  As he walked, his thoughts drifted usually ending up somewhere that revolved around fire, in this case he wondered if the captain wouldn't mind swinging by a volcano so he could see if he could make it erupt.

 His mom had said some of the most powerful fire faeries could do that, and he wanted to see if that was true, or at least he wanted to see a volcano erupt.  That would be nice all that fire and smoke and.... his thoughts trailed off as he noticed someone moping the deck. "I haven't seen you around." he said softly, making his way to the new person, the inner more insane part of him was dancing around excited about the newest candle but he shoved the thought aside.  "You one of the new recruits?"

Is that a gun holster? thought Sky. What kind of ship did I board?! And he used fire magic... I always wanted to learn magic.

With a wide grin on her face, she looked up and said, "Yep! I'm the new recruit! You seem strong and fierce... not someone to mess with, I take it." She paused for a second before continuing. "That was some pretty nice magic you used before. Wasn't necessarily a strong spell but very well controlled. Are you the toughest on this crew? Those scars look like they were painful... and you have so many of them! Yeah, you must be the toughest if you've received all of those and lived! I'm just a cabin boy and you must be... You must be the captain! Yes, that must be it. Is there anything I could do for you?"

Sky knew she was sucking up, but everything she said was true. He seemed tough, he used strong magic, and he had an awful lot of scars. And since this was bound to be a long ride, she might as well get on the captain's good side.

The sight of the ship's master gunner nearly sent Morgan into a frenzy. The addition of the newest cabin boy's fawning all over Ialu was not helping matters either. "Of course, he isn't the captain," she growled, butting into the conversation as she once more marched onto the deck.

"He's our insane master gunner. Careful or he'll use as a cannon rammer. And you," the quartermaster turned her glare to the boy now, "are supposed to be swabbing the deck, not smearing the dirt around. Honestly, the pair of them, sending me an idiot. This is all Chris' doing I just know it!

Morgan sighed and yanked the mop from the child's hands. "Get out of my sight. I'll deal with you later." She shoved the boy towards the doors to below deck and leaned the mop against the rail before advancing on the taller man again. "I can't believe! Just because the captain leaves does not mean that everyone gets shore-leave. I am still in charge here in his absence. You can't just go wandering off like that!"

On a good day, Morgan could normally just ignore Ialu and be content with that. On the best day she may even joke with him. But, today was not the best day, nor was it even a good day. It was a terrible day. She hated being abandoned without a word from the captain. It always made her feel unappreciated and taken for granted, something she had sworn she would let no man be able to do.

Being alone once more drove her to lash out at the master gunner with venom on her tongue. In the end though it would all be words. She was not really angry with him and not all the animosity she dealt him was real. "What do you have to say for yourself? Or better yet, mind explaining why we must now acquire more gunpowder on top of the necessary repairs to the ship because the last batch was soaking wet?" She jabbed a finger into his chest, unmindful of just how close she had managed to get to the sometimes loose cannon.

I take it that means no new clothes... thought Sky, as she was being shoved towards the doors. Well, if I don't have to clean, I might as well explore! Opening the doors, Sky left the loud cranky lady that was shouting at the scarred man and stepped down below deck. This is going to be one hectic trip, thought Sky. There are only two people that I've met on this ship, and they're both crazy.

Ialu blinked in confusion as the boy who'd been swabbing the deck, the boy thought he was the captain?  No one in there right mind would let him be captain even for the day, it was probably why they'd let Morgan be in charge of the ship, of course she was also higher then he was but he was probably that last person that anyone wanted in charge of the ship.  However before he could speak Morgan marched over, clearly not in the best moods.   "I wouldn't use him as a cannon rammer." Ialu said putting a hurt look on his face, as he watched the cabin boy scamper off, as soon as the boy was gone he added with a slightly crazed smile.  "I'd probably use him as a candle."  

He took a cautious step back as Morgan turned her wrath on him, "I didn't go on shore leave!" He protested, feeling to relaxed from the swim to jump at the bait.   "I just went for a swim, and just in case you thought I was slacking I kept an eye on the ship.  I am half water-nymph remember?"  He frowned as she continued speaking and his eyes that had been like embers started to spark. "Are you accusing me of contaminating the gun powder?" he asked, fury racing through his veins.   He knew he wasn't the best at water magic, he took after his father more then his mother in that respect but he wouldn't use the gun powder to practice.  Holding fire that had started to build up in his body back he took a deep breath and continued.  "I didn't...wouldn't do that, that's just stupid and irresponsible. Do you remember who supplied us the last batch? 'Cause they have an appointment with me and it won't be pleasant."

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back slightly, trying to calm her temper enough to actually listen to the other sailor's words. "I accuse you of nothing. I was simply asking if you knew how it got that way, Ialu. The guns are your responsibility after all."

She sighed heavily and shook her head. "The matter was serious enough that the captain has gone into town to handle it himself. However, it does hearten me to hear you take such responsibility for the matter. Were you able to check our last patch under the port side? I want it in top shape before ship out. I do not fancy doing another repair out at sea again if you know what I mean," she continued, changing the topic entirely.

Her acknowledgment of his efforts was as close to an apology as anyone would ever get out of her. To find their stores tampered with and their supplies damaged had felt almost personal. Morgan prided herself in keeping a tightly run ship, leaving Zephyr free to handle other matters. Having to go to him with this matter was akin to shooting herself in the foot, painful and able to be recovered from but, might as well be her own death sentence she was signing.

Ialu relaxed slightly at Morgan's words, realizing he'd probably overreacted.  It was true the guns were his responsibility and he probably should have paid more attention when the cases were loaded onto the ship.  "I shouldn't have snapped." he admitted, "The guns are my responsibility, I should of known that some were wet."  Of course that was exactly why he'd snapped in the first place, he took pride in his job and any hint of him not doing it properly tended to set him off.  The fire in his eyes slowly started to die, although he was still angry at the supplier who'd cheated him, but he relaxed slightly with the knowledge that the Captain was looking into it.  "I hope Captain hurts him." he muttered savagely, before adding. "It looks good to me, so it shouldn't be a problem but...." he trailed off shrugging.  "I'm into guns not ship-repair, so you might want to get someone down there to verify it. I'll help with the breathing issue if need be. If you want we can go look after someone else comes back to the ship."  He was positive that he could bend the water enough to create a pocket of air enabling someone to breath, although for how long was the problem.

She sighed running a hand through her thick locks before looking back towards the docks longingly. 'Of course, he blows the ship up, not repair it! Now why didn't I think of that?' her mind sarcastically bit out, making her bite her tongue to keep the harshness in. It was after not Ialu's fault that she was in such a vile mood. There was no sense in taking it out on him.

"I'll probably go down and take a look at it once Captain gets back. If he ever gets back. Depending on how bad it is I may have to take you up on your offer. We shall have to wait and see, as usual. Well, do you have anything to report or did you just come back for my charming presence?"

Ialu nodded slightly, his eyes wandering to the riggings longingly, there was one place up in the riggings that he particularly loved as a spot for reading and relaxing, although it wasn't the best place for practicing either fire or water control.  He wished he was up there, not down here with the irritated quarter-master who seemed ready to bite his head off, but also knew that he was walking a dangerous path right then and until she either calmed down or he left he had to be careful.
 
"Ok, just let me know if you need my help." he said lightly, hoping that she would let him know when he was between things, not up in the riggings reading, sleeping or meditating but figured that that was to much to wish for unfortunately, it seemed people loved to bug him when he was busy with other things.  Sometimes it was only his promise to the Captain that he didn't light people on fire when they bugged him but it was a constant battle to keep that from happening.  

"Well, the seaweed looks like it could be delicious if dried and seasoned properly." Ialu said, stroking his non-existent beard thoughtfully. "Other then that, nope I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

"Go," she growled in exasperation, grabbing his arm and pushing him towards the masts. "I know when my company isn't wanted. Just be sure to make your presence known again by the time Captain gets back. I'm sure he is going to be wanting a respected eye checking the new shipment before it is loaded aboard.

Dismissing him without caring whether he left or not, the lady-pirate moved to the rail and returned to glaring out at the dock. Perhaps if she were angry enough Zephyr would return and she could steal his liquor and drink away all her anger again. All she wanted right now was for time to speed up, the crew to be back on board, the captain sober and in his quarters and the shore a winking speck in the distance. Listening to the gulls cry, she made a note to check on the cabin boy within the hour to ensure he was not causing mayhem.

'Please, please let there be at least one competent mind among the recruits so that I do not have to kill everyone in sight. One, that is all I'm asking. Please?'

Ialu laughed lightly as he was propelled towards the masts by the irate female-pirate.  "Of course, of course, I'll see you later." He headed up the mast, eyes slowly settling back into the embers that were their normal state.  Up in the air, he settled himself with one leg hanging off the other on the wood, his back against the straight wood that had been warmed by the sun, his eyes slowly fluttered shut as he drifted into a light sleep.

Sky was bored. She had wandered the ship and peeked inside all the unlock rooms. There was nothing else to do. Heading back to the deck, Sky listened to make sure the crazy lady wasn't shouting anymore. Hearing no sounds, Sky opened the doors and eyed the scarred man. She ran to the mast, and looked up. It was high, and maybe a little dangerous, but that just made it more fun. Sky had plenty of practice climbing the steep buildings at night in the streets. A mast wouldn't be any trouble. Silently climbing it (most the times she had to climb was when she had to escape, therefore Sky automatically climbs silently), Sky headed higher and higher up until she was sitting next to the scarred man. Staring at him, Sky finally realized he was asleep. So she just kept sitting there, waiting for the man to wake up.

Olivia walked across the docks from the recruitment table (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=94&t=13230&p=112694#p112694) where she'd officially been signed up at as The Reaper's Chalice's brand new carpenter. She examined each ship as she passed it, looking for the ship whose symbol would match that of the table. Each foot step thumped like her heart in her ears -- or maybe that was her heart. It pounded loudly in her chest to the point she thought it might burst. Anxiety and excitement coursed through her and she fantasized romantically about what her adventures as a sailor might be like.

That's when she saw it. The Reaper's Chalice. A innocent, simple enough plank was set at an angle connecting the ship to the dock. The ship loomed over her with its black flag and ominous, quiet deck. She thought there might've been someone climbing the mast, but it was hard to tell through the fog. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Olivia made her way up the plank. Already, flaws in the ship started to pop out at her as she examined the port side. Planks stuck out in jagged patterns, nails coming loose. Part of Olivia wanted to get on hands and knees immediately to start sanding everything to a smooth perfection, but it would have to wait until the bigger jobs were done, splinters or no.

Olivia took her first, ginger step onto the deck and looked around. "Hello? I'm, uhm-- Oliver Grey. The new carpenter?"

Waiting for something to happen, Sky kept swinging her legs back and forth as she observed the clouds. That one looks like a bunny, she thought. And that one a knife. Staring at the sky, Sky neither heard nor saw the new carpenter. She was too into her shape finding in the clouds to notice anything other than the sleeping man beside her.

Standing up straight, Morgan tried to measure and found herself coming up a bit short in comparison to the self-proclaimed carpenter. 'Tall and cute, that's two in his favor. Poor thing looks like a strong wind will take him to sea though. Guess he's not going to be the one competent one. Oh well, just as long as he doesn't start making more holes in the bloody ship, he will do.'

"Well tell me Oliver what makes you think you are the boy for the job? What are your qualifications? Have you even worked on a ship before?" she questioned crossly with attitude. Morgan took great pleasure in giving new crew members, and old ones too to be honest, a hard time. It just made the voyages more fun before things could get boring at sea.

Olivia frowned at the unpleasant onslaught of skepticism and attitude coming from the woman in front of her – a woman?. This ship was okay with having women on board? Olivia was just starting to feel like an idiot for dressing like a man when she began to check out Morgan from top to bottom. This wasn't just any woman: she was strong, covered in tattoos, had weapons hanging off her belt. She looked like a force to be reckoned with. She looked like a pirate.

She snapped her attention back to the questions being asked of her. Boy? She hadn't even received the courtesy of being called a man. "Let me introduce myself, first," Olivia said politely. She took Morgan's hand in her own, bowed, and kissed the top of it. She felt as if she were harnessing the power of her twin brother's charm. "My name is Oliver Grey." Olivia dropped Morgan's hand and forced herself to suppress a giggle.

"And I've been a carpenter professionally for eight years now. And I worked in my fathers shop all the years before that. I can work with wood, metal, weapons, ships, carvings. Anything you want, I will see it done. But," she paused, and looked out towards the sea. The sparkling blue water waiting to take her to places far away put a small smile on her lips. She looked back at Morgan with her bright green eyes, "if you're unsatisfied, feel free to dump me at the next port. I'll be able to find another job anywhere." She exuded confidence when it came to her profession. It was her passion, and her life.

"What was your name, m'lady?" Olivia asked, using the words one would use to acknowledge a noble. Within her, she felt a burning need to figure out why this woman was allowed on board with no issues, and if she herself could stop acting like a man.

Morgan's eyes widened slightly as she cocked a brow at Oliver. 'No one has ever done that before.' Her awe did not last long though as she returned to her previous state of disenchantment. "If I'm displeased with you I will dump you off whether we're at port or not. And don't call me lady," she said hissing out the word in disgust.

"I'm quartermaster of this ship. If you've got a problem or start trouble it'll be me you answer to you. If you are as good as you say then you will be of great use to us. If not..." Moragan shrugged and turned away.

Pointing to riggings she continued in a new vein of conversation. "As you can see the Chalice has seen better days of late. We ran into some trouble last time out and are need of some new or replacement spars. Later I'll have Ialu take you down under the ship and hopefully not drown you. We did a patch at sea and I want to make damn sure it's fixed before we ship out. If we have to do another fix out sea, it'll be your ass we troll."

The quartermaster demanded attention with her tone and actions. If the recruits did not learn quick to heed her commands both direct and wordless, they would not last long. Her temper had a habit of getting the best of her and while not all of her pranks and punishments were malicious, they were all memorable.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement and scowled at seeing a little foot swinging back and forth above her. "Hey pint-size! Get down here! There's work to be done and I won't be having you laze about on my watch!"

Sky was peacefully watching clouds when she heard an angry voice. Calling her... pint-size? She was quite strong and tall for a girl her size! Then again, that woman was a good half a foot taller than Sky. So compared to her, maybe she was pint-sized.

Sliding down the mast in a matter of seconds, Sky ran to the mean lady. Noticing the new person next to her, Sky gave him a quick scan. He was as tall as the angry lady but seemed nice enough. At least there was one normal looking person on this ship. With a slight bow, Sky said, "My name is Sky. I'm probably your servant, too. What should I call you?"

Realizing that she was called down for a reason, Sky turned back towards Morgan. "Ah... sorry. I was just following the scarred man. What would you like me to do? Oh, and what's your name, too? I'm 'fraid I missed it earlier."

Olivia's eyes widened to the size of saucers from the tongue lashing she received from Morgan, the quartermaster. The second in command. Just as she was about to get her hopes up about a ship accepting woman aboard, they got dashed at Morgan's threats. She's going to do what now? Throw me over board or- or drown me?! That shut her up right quick as she listened intently to the rest of Morgan's speech. It could've been Morgan's intimidating demeanor, or it could've been the fact that Olivia had three pounds of hair sitting on her scalp under a hat, but sweat was building up on her brow and neck. She shifted around her baggy gray jumpsuit, trying to catch some of the wind in it to cool her down.

Her eyes followed the motions of the quartermaster's hands, and her gaze immediately fixed on the broken and dismantled parts that were in desperate need of repair. If there was one thing Olivia could count on, it was her inspiration to fix things. Working on a ship will be fun! ...As long as I don't drown, she thought to herself nervously, trying to lift her spirits.

She jumped as Morgan yelled up at half-pint. Olivia shielded her eyes as she looked up at the mast and saw Sky slide down with ease. He was like a little acrobat with those kind of dexterous moves. His polite bow and the word "servant" made Olivia break out into her easy smile. She nodded her head in return and said, "Hello, little sir. My name is Oli- Oliver. Oliver Grey. I'd be delighted to have your assistance, though there is no need for servitude." She chuckled and continued, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sky." What an interesting name. Something about Sky reminded her of herself when she was younger, but she wasn't sure what. She shrugged the idea off casually.

"That is, you can assist me if it's okay with... uhm," she furrowed her brow and gestured towards the quartermaster, realizing she'd never heard her name.

She hissed through her teeth in exasperation but let the pair deal out their introductions. An idea was forming to get rid of both and she was weighing the pros and cons of it. 'We need repairs and we need them now. He can't get started without knowing the extent and the resources. Pipsqueak seems happy enough to be useless and in the way. Better have him annoy someone else for a change.' Not of course that Sky had been all that troublesome thus far, but there was no telling the fiery lady-pirate that, especially not as long as the captain was missing.

"Morgan," the quartermaster at last grunted out before smiling tightly. "Since the pair of you seem so close I will kill two fish with one hook. Our newest carpenter needs to access the damage and then come back to me with an estimate of repairs and resources needed. And you," Morgan waved her hand in a shooing motion to Sky, "go help him or something. Cause trouble either of you and you are both going for a drink. Now go be scarce!"

Olivia winced at Morgan's harsh metaphor and threat, then turned to go check out the extent of the internal damage to the ship. She patted Sky on the back to gently lead him in the same direction. "Don't mind her," she said, not in a whisper, to Sky with a warming smile, "she's just stressed out. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful help. We'll get this ship fixed up in no time." She decided she'd start at the keel and bulkhead, and then work her way up to the mast, and then outside of the ship to the rudder and hull.

As Olivia wandered through the labyrinth of hallways and stairs that would be her new home, she thought about Morgan. Something about her demanded respect. She was scary, but it made Olivia smile. There was nothing Olivia looked up to more than a strong woman in this day and age. She herself had grown up as one of the boys, so she related to the quartermaster, minus the bad temper. Olivia chuckled under her breath and shook her head, thinking about the wrath of Morgan. "That quartermaster is going to be a handful, don't you think?" she asked Sky. "What do you think of her? It's impressive to see a female quartermaster. Practically unheard of."

Following Oliver around the ship, Sky smiled. She was reassured that this trip wouldn't be horrible since there was at least one nice person. However, she didn't really know what to do. Sky had no experience in fixing ships... but maybe she could learn. It couldn't be a bad skill to have.

Sky responded, "Yeah... But maybe she acts better when the cap'n is around. You would think she would wanna keep us recruits around since they obviously need us—or at least you. This ship looks like it's going to fall apart. Anyway, she's a little bit scary but there are scary people out on the streets too. It'll just take a little time to get used to her, ya know? And I guess she has to be strong enough to be necessary. She talks the talk and must walk the walk I guess."

Although Sky knew that there was another woman on the ship, she did not doubt that she would be looked down upon even more if people found out her true gender. Maybe even kicked off the ship. Sky was tall and strong for her age—even if she was a boy—but people automatically looked down on girls. And Sky didn't know any magic or sword fighting or even cleaning. Wouldn't be hard for them to find someone better than her. Therefore she wanted every safety precaution she could get... and she didn't mind acting like a boy. It was kinda fun to trick people.

Looking back at Oliver, Sky asked, "So what all d'ya need me to do?"

Ialu yawned rubbing his eyes as a new voice reached his ears, followed by Morgan's voice which told him that there was a new crew member on board.  Sitting up gingerly so as not to fall over the side of the rigging he made his way back down to the decks, figuring that since he was unfortunately awake he might as well introduce himself.  He wondered which member of the crew it would turn out to be as he landed on lightly on the deck to here the new cabin boy say, "So what all d'ya need me to do?" He eyed the two of them thoughtfully, eyes holding a tiny amount of curious fire as he watched them, turning to the more unfamiliar face he said, "So you met Morgan I heard.  I'm Ialu, the master gunner."  He kept his voice light and friendly as if talking about the weather, the new crew member had already met Morgan and that was probably enough trauma for the first day.  'Asides he really didn't need to advertise the fact that he could control fire and was on a ship, that would wait until they were at sea after he'd given subtle hints.  Only Morgan and the Captain knew that the tattoo that was spread across his back was sometimes the only thing that kept him from burning the ship down around their ears.  Turning to the cabin boy he continued, "I don't think I got your name before when Morgan shooed you away."

Hans looked at the mighty vessel before him, this ship was to become his home. and for the first time in his quest for knowledge he felt he was literally about to step into a whole new world of knowledge. So it begins. Walking up to the gangplank, he looked up to the deck. "Permission to come aboard" he shouted up at the vessel.

"And what if I were to deny you access?" she called back, moving to stand at the top of the plank, but careful not to step out onto it. Morgan rested her hands on both rails and peered down at the plain-looking man. 'Another one? Surely Cat-Eye knows better than to send me such wimpy hands, right? Damn Zephyr! This is my job and I am forced to have another do it because...I'm going to kill him.'

She did not allow herself to dwell on it, choosing instead to vent some more frustration out on the new recruit. 'It builds character after all.' Blocking admittance to the deck she continued to glare down in disapproval. "What would you have to say then?"

Hans looked up at the woman who bared him access to the ship. She is probably a high ranking officer on this ship, so I shall play it cool. "If you deny me access to the ship then you deny the ship access to a doctor, which the recruiter mentioned this vessel is lacking." Hopefully that wasn't too strong of a reply.

"I hope they need me," Olivia said quietly, more to herself than to Sky. The threat of drowning in the middle of a foreign ocean did not comfort her. Then, realizing her serious tone in front of the younger one, she perked right back up. "Wouldn't want to be fish food!" she said, in reality only half joking. She'd almost reached the hull of the ship when a voice from behind startled her. Olivia turned to see Ialu standing behind them. She hadn't even heard him come down the stairs and hallways from the deck.

"Ialu," Olivia repeated, noting to remember the name of the master gunner. Couldn't hurt to make friends with him. Almost immediately her attention turned towards the thought of what weapons he must use. They must've been from Connloath. Maybe they'd stop port there. She'd always wanted to see the gun shops there. It was the only country that made pistols, which made it a pain to acquire in Adela. Realizing she was keeping Ialu waiting, she jumped in, "Oh, yeah. We met Morgan. She's an interesting one." Olivia shrugged and continued, "I'm Oliver Grey, the ship's new carpenter. We're making inspections to see what needs repairs. And this is my assistant." She turned to Sky and motioned subtly for him to introduce himself.

"I think I've been promoted," Sky said, smiling. "I'm no longer the cabin boy, now I'm a carpenter's assistant! Actually... I think I'm both. So, Cap'n lalu, my name is Sky." Sky's eye's widened. "Oh, I know you're not the cap'n. But I can still call you Cap'n lalu, right? Or maybe Master lalu? You're too strong not to have a title." Sky was just babbling now. This guy interested her. A lot. "I see you woke up from your nap. Obviously. Anyway, I really wanna learn magic. Will you teach me?"

During this dialogue, Sky only broke contact with lalu's eyes to see his scars. She didn't really have much courtesy. She was leaning slightly towards him and the majority of her weight was on the front of her feet, almost making her go on her tip-toes. But her wide blue eyes were wide with curiosity and her big grin was full of happiness.

"Well it's nice to meet you both, Oliver, Sky."  Ialu said grinning, although he felt a slight hint of nerves as he stood near the one person on the ship he didn't want to find out about his fire.  It was hard being half fire faerie and half water nymph, both sides of him were at odds with the other making any type of control hard to handle.  "If you need any help with anything underwater while we're at sea let me know." He continued, "I'm half water-nymph so I can help you breath there, it's half of my domain." He turned to Sky, and couldn't help be amused at the boy's eagerness.  "I prefer Ialu but if you must add a title to my name I guess Master would be ok, just not Captain.  That title's reserved for the Captain only. I think you'll be everyone's assistant if they need you, so be prepared to run all over the ship."  Magic, now there was a conundrum.  "I can try..." he trailed off wondering how to doge the question.  "It helps if you have magic to start with, why don't we ask Captain first?"

Morgan rolled her eyes at the self-proclaimed doctor and nearly took a step out onto the gangway before realizing what she was doing and putting her foot back down on the deck with a heavy thump. "Please tell me you have other talents other than hacking off limbs and being a general nuisance and a waste of space."

'Playing with the newbies is going to get you into trouble Morgan Loone. Tread carefully. Right, not going to happen. How long can I continue this before the others get back?'

Olivia managed to utter some kind of nervous sound that closely resembled a laugh. She reached out and tugged gently on the back of Sky's shirt to bring him back down to his heels so he wouldn't fawn so obviously over the master gunner. The sudden barage of magical banter took her off guard. She'd met a handful of magical beings before, but it was still an area she was not familiar, or necessarily comfortable, with.

'I'm half water-nymph so I can help you breath there'

A lump formed in her throat at the idea of trusting her life in the hands of a stranger as dangerous looking as the one in front of her. She managed to nod her head with a polite smile on her face, and then turned around to make her way to the hull as fast as possible. She thanked Kia it was too dark down here to notice the extra paleness of her face.

It didn't take long to find what she was looking for in the hull. She walked down a few steps, only to find the last steps submerged underwater as she tumbled face first into the black water sitting in the hull. It was only about three feet deep, but it was enough to catch her off guard. Olivia gasped loudly and nearly shot five feet in the air as she came shooting out onto the steps above the water. She gripped the rails of the steps tensely as her body slowly got used to the shock of the frigid water. With a voice laced with irritation of this sudden surprise, she said, "I think I've found my first project."

Rotting wood slick with moss hung around the bottom of the hull where she suspected the underwater patch the master gunner talked about was. It was at this moment she understood that there'd be no way she could fix this without his help. She just hoped he wouldn't drown her. Looking at Sky and Ialu, she said sternly, "I'm getting supplies. This has to get fixed immediately before that patch breaks and more water gets in."

Ialu watched the new carpenter tug Sky back with a hint of amusement and wonder.  He'd never had someone fawn over him like the new cabin boy/carpenters assistant/what ever was needed was doing and it created mixed reactions in him.   He'd been thought of as a freak back in the water nymph village he'd grown up in, a freak and a bastard since his father took off to go back to his first family not even thinking about the consequences of leaving a boy who took more after his father then his mother would be.  Not that he was bitter, he'd come to terms with the fact that his father was a right git and he could trust no one except himself and later on the Captain, it shaped him into being the man he was today.  

He watched as the carpenter walked away, his head tilted to the side slightly, not really sure what to think.  A few minutes later he saw Olive come back, wet and bit back a smile,  he'd seen the leak but really couldn't do anything about it not unless he wanted to blow it up.  

"Do you need some help getting supplies?" Ialu asked, "I know where things are on this ship, but if you need things from land you'll have to get it yourself."

Olivia openly gaped at Ialu's statement. First, everyone just happened to forget to warn her of the huge hole in the ship, then told to get the massive amount of supplies on her own, and finally, the fact that she'd have to put her life in a stranger's hands. Dripping wet, freezing, and struggling intensely to contain her anger, she clenched her jaw shut. "I see. Very well." With a stiff form bordering on violent shivers, Olivia walked briskly up the steps towards the dock. "I'm on my own, then."

Emerging onto the deck, she glanced between the quartermaster and the doctor she recognized from the recruiting table. Walking up to Morgan, boots squishing with water with every step she took, she whispered in Morgan's ear, "You couldn't have warned me about the water?" She shook her head, sighed deeply, and shoved past the doctor to walk to the docks towards the town to buy supplies to fix the ship that wouldn't go anywhere tomorrow morning if it was still broken.

The tiny glimmer of optimism in her chest told her it wouldn't be as bad once they set out to sea. That was the only severe damage on the ship, or at least she hoped so.

Stepping out from the recruitment table in the town square with the mists swirling around his boots, the cloaked man grinned wider than he had grinned in months. He felt fantastic. 'Finally! No more looking over me shoulder, no more being chased out of town after bleeding town.' A ship- why hadn't he thought of it before? It was so obvious. He didn't dare to sail the rivers in this area, but why not the open sea itself? Vladimir threw back his head and laughed delightedly, revealing his face for a moment before remembering he was supposed to be hiding and readjusting his hood to hide all but his nose and eyes.
  Striding through the town in high spirits, his mind whirled at the possibilities. The man he had spoken with had called it a merchant ship, but Vladimir hoped he still knew a jolly roger when he saw one. "If not, there's always the occasional raid." He mused with an evil-sounding chuckle, rubbing his hands together. 'Freedom! Freedom at last!' Arriving at the docks, he could see a man standing at the end of a gangplank, seeming to face down a woman on the other end aboard a ship bearing a flag that matched the design of the table in the town square. 'Still, no harm in making sure.' Vladimir thought, catching sight of a young and rather wet-looking boy who looked and smelled as though he had been dipped in seawater. "Oy, lad. This be the Reaper's Chalice, aye?" He asked the youth, gesturing toward the ship with the arguing figures. "I be eager to get to work if anything needs doing."

Olivia had been walking with balled fists, boots squishing as she walked, staring down at the wooden planks of the docks, silently fuming to herself. Her hair felt several pounds heavier under her hat, and now that they were both soaked, water dripped down her face, neck, and off the brim of her cap.

A gruff voice snapped her back to attention. Lad? Oh, wait, that's right. That was her. "Uh, yeah. That's her alright. And a lot needs doing. I don't know how handy you are, but there's boards that need to be nailed back in place, everything needs a good sanding, and tell the water-nymph to clear the water out of the hull by the time I get back. He can do that, right?" Her voice unintentionally was laced with an acidic tone, and she only noticed it once she'd finished yelling at a stranger who wanted to help.

"Sorry," she said, trying to swallow her pride. She was a carpenter, she could handle this. No need to make enemies on the first day. She bowed her head politely. "I'm Oliver, the new carpenter. Any help would be much appreciated." She walked past him, and then stopped to turn around and say, "Oh, and the water-nymph is the master gunner. So ask politely." Then off she went to get supplies.

Vladimir had once cut a man's tongue out for mouthing off to him, but he was in far too good a mood to be even the least bit annoyed. "Aye, lad, as you say. Think nothing of it. Be talking such to me again however, and I'll have to gut ya." He chuckled, peeking out from his hood enough to wink with a broad grin to say he was joking. He slapped the boy on the shoulder before he turned and offered a last bit of advice. 'Water nymph eh? I've met a few on the rivers.' Vladimir nodded as the youth turned again to leave, rubbing his nose slightly. 'Is it just me, or did the lad smell... Hah, it's nothing. Sea air be getting to me nose.' He shrugged as he walked on down the dock towards the ship. He figured he was far enough from the town to stop hiding his lupine qualities, and paused momentarily to cut a small hole in the back of his cloak for his tail. "Been a long time since that's got a nice breath of air." He mused, sighing with relief.
  He had seen the boy elbow aside the scholarly-looking man, and he wasted no time in doing the same and making his way up the gangplank until he was face-to-face with Morgan. 'A ship with a whore, God's own luck!' He had thought on the way up, but getting a closer look he immediately revised his opinion. Vladimir knew the stance that woman carried, this was one that commanded respect, and undoubtedly an important figure on the ship. "Reporting for duty." He announced, reaching up and pulling back his hood to let it rest on his back, behind his guitar case. "There always be work to do on a ship. I assume you have a task for me?"

Morgan's eyes followed the movement of the hood and landed on the lupine eyes residing beneath. "Cute," she muttered less out of actual attraction than general interest. "Indeed there always is. You talk as one already accustomed to such tasks. I hope for your sake that also means you are capable of accepting tasks from your superiors without trouble."

Glancing back down the gangway, the doctor had yet to respond to her. She assumed he was probably having a minor fit at being pushed around by not one but two of the new recruits. 'Serves him right if he is just going to lollygag right in the middle of the path.' Her gaze moved to return to this new man when she noticed the head of his guitar poking over his shoulder.

"What are you bard or sailor? What use is that here? We run a tight ship here. Don't expect much free time, puppy," she growled out, crossing her arms and raising a brow in question. Morgan was actually a bit interested in this one. He could prove to be fun to have around, if only to push buttons.

"Aye, that I be," he stated, nodding in affirmation. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, viritually unnoticeable, at the opportunity as she looked to the doctor and back to him, observing the flicker of her eyes as they took in everything and making a mental note. 'This one don't miss anything, she's got an eye for detail...'
   "What, this?" Vladimir said, patting the guitar case on his back affectionately in response to her questions. 'Puppy? Well, I've heard worse...' The thought still made him scowl slightly. "Aye, not much time on board for her, to be true, but I picked this up after me own sailing days. She be good company on the lonely road, you see, and a quick tongue will only get you so much..." He explained, giving a small wink to add a double meaning to his words. "Many a time has she earned me a place to rest and a meal." Not to mention an inanimate object was the closest thing he had to a friend, almost the only thing he had to be fond of.

Another scarred man, thought Sky. But this one has ears!

Since Oliver didn't ask Sky to go with him, Sky decided to investigate the new arrival. The yellow eyes memorized her almost as much as the ears. And... a tail? Sky had seem some pretty interesting people, but none of them looked anything like this.

Walking up to the tailed-man, Sky pointed to his ears and asked, "Is that an illusion? They look so real. But it must be an illusion, right? Unless," Sky's eyes got wide, "You're part animal! I've never seen a mixture of human and wild animal before, but I've heard they exist. Are you one of them?" Sky decided to ignore the fact she was being completely rude and instead just looked at him with curiosity all over her face.

Vladimir cocked his head as the child barraged him with questions, taking in the clothes he wore and the generally filthy look of him. He had seen children like this at the orphanage, and in the streets of the cities- hell, he had looked much the same at one point in his life. 'Cabin boy.' He decided, figuring there was no other place on a ship for a child, and such a dirty one at that. "Me ears? They be from me father's blood. At least, that's what they told me in La'marri..." He trailed off, frowning as he looked to his memories. Who was his father? Who was his mother, even? All he had was the occasional memory of pressing his face to an apron and smelling yeast. Was it from bread, beer, who knows? Vladimir shook his head as he came back to the present- he had no wish to revisit those demons and spoil his good humor. "Arrgh! Annoying little git, aint'cha? Why don't you shove off?" He growled.

"Oy pipsqueak! I thought I told you to keep out of my hair," Morgan growled, switching from intrigued to irritated in no time flat as her hand latched onto the scrawny shoulder of the cabin boy and gave it a restraining squeeze. "If you do not desire to be shark bait then I suggest you reign in that tongue of yours before I do it for you. I'm not going to tolerate that kind of lip out of you, you hear?"

Straightening she eyed the unnamed soldier. "As for you, cool your heels. What's a boy going to do you, gum you to death? You want a job puppy, well then fine. Teach this yapper over here how to swab a deck. He's a menace with a mop."

Having said that she shoved the cabin boy at the taller man and pointed off to storage room where she had showed Sky the supplies earlier.

Ialu sighed and strolled over, trying to look as casual as he could.  He came at the tail end of Morgan's words and bit back a grimace, there was yet another new person that he had to meet.  "I also need some help," he said lightly, figuring that since Sky seemed to hold him in awe he could use it to make sure Morgan didn't make fish bait out of him. "I need to go through the gunpowder to see if any more is wet, it would be easier with another pair of hands."  He could easily do it alone, using his magic but it wouldn't hurt to do it the normal way for once.  Turning to the new crew member he added, "I'm Ialu the master gunner on the ship. If you need help with anything to do with guns just come talk to me."

Vladimir smirked at the sight of the young lad and his tongue lashing, then grimaced when the tattooed woman decreed that he was to show him the business. 'Bloody lout won't gum nobody while he be moping up blood.' "Aye aye" was what he said aloud, nodding and trying to keep a straight face. His good mood had fled at the news, but had also perked upon hearing he was hired for sure. 'Besides, no good sulking when there be work to do.' He thought. "Alright lad, let's go."
  His head swiveled to focus on the barechested man, noting the lack of body hair and the clothes with water stains. 'Are those... fires, in his eyes?' He looked over the man's gun holster, with one on each hip that he could see. Vladimir thought it fortunate the nymph/faerie had come by, not only because he offered to take the boy off his hands but also because he had almost forgotten what Oliver had said. "Master gunner eh? The carpenter bade me to bring a message, mate- Oliver, his name was. He requests that you be bailing the water out of the hull by time he gets back, so's he can be patching her up. 'Course, dry gunpowder be important too. Just passing on his words." He informed the man with a shrug. "When or if you get done helping the gunner, lad, mind you find me. Dunno what there's not to know about swabbing decks, but God's Blood you'll know it by the time I'm through with you." Vladimir stated, prodding the boy with a finger before heading in the direction of the storerooms Morgan had pointed out.

Not sure what exactly she was supposed to do anymore, Sky looked back and forth between the scarred man and the tailed man. She preferred the scarred man—he wasn't mean. But the mean woman said to mop the deck with the tailed man. But then the tailed man said to go through the gunpowder and then clean the deck. And then the tailed man started walking away. Therefore she was stuck with the scarred man.

Happy with how things turned out, Sky turned towards lalu and asked, "Where's the powder? And, excuse me for asking, but how exactly can I tell if it's wet? Do I have to feel it or can I tell by looking? I've never actually used a gun before... But I'd be glad to help!" Especially since he was one of the two people that she hadn't annoyed yet. "And maybe I could help you empty the water out of the hull! After the gunpowder... and mopping... and perhaps," Sky continued, a slight twinkle in her eye, "You could teach me something when I'm done doing chores!"

Hans had gotten distracted by the sight of a barnacle coming out of it's shell, which doesn't happen too often. Looking back up to what he assumed was the quarter master. Being passive was getting him nowhere, but if that was indeed the quarter master then he couldn't afford to be an ass. "I'm talented in healing magic, so I might not have to amputate if I can help it, I'm also a strong swimmer and good at handling rigging. If all else fails I'm good at mopping"

The quartermaster smirked, glad to finally have gotten a response from the doctor. Ialu interfering in what she wanted done, irked her but she let it go. The cabin boy out of her way and the others working was enough for now. She could handle the specifics later. As long as everything was in order by the time of the captain's arrival, she was content, mostly.

"Why didn't you say that to begin with then? Come aboard, we could use another pair of hands up here," Morgan called down to him. "I'm the quartermaster. You have trouble, you come to me. Right now I'm in charge so heed my word or over you go. Is that clear?"

So glad I wasn't an ass. Hans thought as he walked up the gangplank. "What will you have me do first ma'am? My name is Hans by the way." Hans stepped aboard the ship and breathed in the salty air of the ocean. Today begins the first day of the rest of my life.

She nodded her head in response to the doctor's greeting somewhat distracted by Ialu talking behind her. 'Undermining my authority. Zephyr why do you always do this to me? I just can't wait until you're back. We have to have yet another long talk.'

"Well Hands since Pipsqueak is disregarding my original instructions you can join Puppy over there in swabbing the deck. It better be shining by the time the captain is back which could be any minute now. Am I understood?"

"And shiny it shall be." Hans had an advantage in this situation. Some years ago while reading in a library in Kia's Court, he had learned of a herb that, when added to water, makes the water acidic to minerals, like the salt that coats the deck from the ship's time at sea. Not only that but It will leave other materials alone like wood, fiber or flesh.

Pulling the small herb from his bag, Hans began tearing it in his hands while walking over to the mop and bucket. When he threw the herb into the water, he grabbed the mop and began to stir the water. When he felt the herb was well mixed in the water, he took the mop out of the water and began swabbing.

Vladimir walked back from the storage room, mop over his shoulder and a bucket dangling form the mop. "Oy!" He cried, spotting a man standing over a bucket with a mop in his hands where Vladimir had been planning to mop. "That be my-" swallowing the word "spot", the wolfman reconsidered his approach to the crew. The concept of "friend" had long been forgotten by him, but if he did not at least think of them as his shipmates and comrades, he could not see this ending well- especially if the feelings were mutual. 'I could always kill 'em and patch together a crew of me own... Nah. Too much sweat.' From the look of the crew he had met so far, murdering them all would definitely be far more effort than it was worth.
"Fortune." He grunted instead. "At meeting you proper, mate." The pirate recognized the other man now, he was the one who he and the carpenter had been pushing around.

Hans had been furiously scrubbing the deck to get the job done quickly, he was quite satisfied at the apparent shine on the wood. His focus was disrupted by a man approaching him from the rear, Which wasn't a bad thing, he was nearly finished with half the deck.

Turning to nod his greeting, Hans did a double-take. That man is a demi-human. Hans had met one demi-human before, quite recently, he had vulpine qualities and claimed he was a nature spirit. The doctor offered his hand, "Hans, pleasure to make your acquaintance." Hans was oblivious to the fact that this was one of the people who had moved him aside while he was staring at the barnacle. He had been that captivated.

"Vladimir." The cloaked man muttered, looking at the doctor's hand with his head cocked. 'Do people really be shaking hands so much? Soddit.' He wondered, clasping hands with the other man. Witnessing the behavior of Chris, Vladimir understood the object of this little formality was to squeeze each others' hands. 'Must be a show of strength.' He concluded, vicing his calloused extremity over the doctor's tightly. He sniffed the air curiously, the area had a strange odor to it. Looking to the mop bucket sitting on the deck, he surmised it must be from whatever herb was floating around in it. Casting a quick eye over the area the doctor had mopped, Vladimir had an idea. "Gotta run mate, work to do. When I be done mopping, may be you could come behind me and splash some of that juice around, really put a shine to her."

The man, Vladimir, had a tight grip. Hans returned the grasp, equally tight. looking over his handiwork then back at the rest of the deck. "Don't bother I'll be done in just a few minutes, there is no point in wasting water." Hans picked the mop off the deck and back in the water. "Keep the herb a secret, I have no idea how the quartermaster will react to it."

"Mum's the word." The cloaked man agreed, still clasping hands with the doctor. He awkwardly looked down at their joined hands and decided this had gone on long enough, pulling his hand free. "Right, I'll be getting busy then." Vladimir remembered that the carpenter had mentioned several loose boards that needed a good nailing-down, so he left the other man to finish swabbing and returned to the storerooms. Replacing the mop and bucket, he picked up a stout hammer. "My ship never got this bad on the river." He muttered. Years and years of wandering had given him a habit of talking to himself. Thinking out loud, so to speak. He shrugged it off and set to work, finding loose boards that looked as though they didn't need replacing and securing them, replacing nails when needed.

The look of intense concentration, borderline pain was splashed across Olivia's face as she struggled with the heavy load she was pushing on a wide, wheeled cart. With brows stitched together and beads of sweat falling down her face, along with both hands put flat on the cart, she was an awkward site coming down the docks. Her body was at a 45 degree angle with the ground as she shoved the overflowing amount of supplies to the base of The Reaper's Chalice.

Olivia was now thankful for the damp moisture that clung to her jumpsuit. The cool temperature soothed her skin. Placing a hand over her eyes, she squinted up at The Reaper's Chalice through the blinding light of the sun. There was definitely someone up there, though she couldn't make out who exactly. "Oy, up there! Help me carry all this wood up there, will ya?" she yelled up to whoever would listen on deck.

With that command in mind, Olivia loaded up her arms with a large bundle of wooden planks varying in size from several feet long to relatively small and short. At the bottom of the cart was scraps of metal and a bed of countless numbers of nails. She rebuild the whole Goddamned ship if she had to. Much of her irritation from the shock in the hull had dissipated in order to be replaced with the intoxication of challenge. She was on a mission to fix this ship up, even if it took all night, so that they could sail off first thing on the morrow.

"Oy! What are'ye two doing over there? Quit lazin' about! Just because one job is done doesn't meant you're done. Get over here and start moving some of this wood aboard, or it'll be you we use as hammers!"

Morgan shook her head angrily, willing herself not to stamp her foot like a spoiled child. "Turn my back for one second and this is the respect I get." Her own stubbornness kept her from going down there and helping when she had seen the carpenter approach.

'What was his name again? Olie? Olympus? Omar? Ohmy? Oh god! What difference does it make?[i/]'

"Orvell," the quartermaster called over to the carpenter, "how much time do you figure until you'll be done with the immediate repairs?"

Damon was walking up to the Reaper's Chalice, admiring it, as it was to be his home for a while. He snapped out of it quickly, when he heard someone raiser their voice. There was a young man pushing a cart of lumber, and a woman on deck bellowing commands.

With a smile, Damon walked towards the young man. "Do you need a hand?" he asked, before introducing himself. "I'm Damon, just made my way over from town. I was told I'd be working the rigging, but feel free to put me to work wherever I'm needed."

Chris looked up at the Chalice in mild amusement. Standing on the docks below its magnificence, it was easy to see even from below how busy and chaotic everything was on deck. He was grateful that the rigs were being attended to by his own boys; the ropes were in need of a good touch up.
He was also  pleased to see the cart full of lumber and the boy he had recruited not too long ago pulling it. Oliver... that was his name, right? That other man he had just recruited was just talking to him.
Morgan was putting everybody to work, he thought with a slight grin.
He almost felt sorry for the new lads.

As if on cue, Morgan curtly shouted down from the ship towards the newly appointed carpenter.
Chris tilted his head up so that the woman would have a clear look at his face as he lifted his cap towards her, ever the gentleman,  before making his way up the ramp and stairs of the ship. The crew he walked by politely greeted the second mate, to which all Chris muttered quick replies, but did not as much look at them. He had more important things to do, at the moment.
"So you've somehow managed to retain order, I see. I trust the recruits aren't proving to be too difficult," he said smoothly as he approached the quartermaster.
The pirate  held out the bouquet of  the vivid orange star shaped flowers accompanied with bluebells.

"Here. My promise," he solemnly declared.
Chris shrugged as he slightly turned the bouquet in his hands, examining the colors as they appeared more lively in the light.
"A bit trivial, perhaps, but the ladies on land are oddly fascinated with these dainty, pretty things."
The man had placed no emphasis on any of his words, though he knew he had said enough. Chris only hoped she didn't slap the bouquet out of his hand or hurled it into the water, at least for now. The flowers costed him a coin, after all, and he would sorely miss it if she placed all of his good effort to waste.

Vladimir poked his head up upon hearing the carpenter's voice, tossed his hammer by the rail of the ship on hearing Morgan's. "Aye woman, I'm moving. Don't getcher bloomers in a knot." He set his hand on the rail and vaulted over the side of the ship. It was a long drop, but running from the law made for long drops sometimes. Thumping to the dock, he squatted and slapped a hand to the wood to catch himself. "Oy lad." He said, nodding to the carpenter.
   "Quite a load there, eh?" Saying nothing more, nodding to the lad at the carpenter's side, he scooped up an armful of wooden planks and made his way up the gangplank, glancing about and dropping them unceremoniously next to a spot that looked as if it needed repairs. 'One down...' He said to himself as he went for another load.

The quartermaster ignored everything else going on around her the moment her eyes came to rest upon Chris. A cruel smirk curled her lips as she casually made her way over to the approaching sailor. Morgan was already thinking up all the burning, scathing statements she would hurl his way. There was nothing like letting out a little aggression on one she knew could take it.

"Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in. Come to apologize for the mess you've made Cateye? For stealing Eli from me when you know I required his service? Or perhaps it is for the pitiful recruits you have been sending aboard? What did you do, let every sob-story and sissy you could find join up? What is this?"

For a moment she froze, staring owlishly at the bouquet being offered to her. Then, hesitantly she gently took them, all the while still staring at them as if they were going to come out and bite her. Looking up again, her smirk returned and with it her caustic tongue.

"Oh I get it! You bring me flowers and expect me to fall head over heels for you? You're a buffoon Cateye. Perhaps such sentiments work on those pinheads ashore but what kind of woman do you take me for? Well, not afraid to disappoint, I'm not interested. Don't you have work to be doing? Or better yet, groveling?"

Ah, that was the quartermaster he knew.
Chris only grinned as Morgan lashed at him; he knew better than to interrupt her monologues, least she forgot her place.
"Now, now," he  replied as he shoved his hands into his pockets, amused.
"It's not like you to be so sentimental, Morgan. Or so dimwitted. "Heads over heels"? Perhaps I should have thought it through and arrange a dinner in the captain's quarters."
It was almost touching that she thought of them in those terms.

It didn't matter what spite she threw at him- Chris knew he had won some ground; as insulted as she sounded, Chris had a feeling the gift was an appropriate one. She had been dumbstruck. For one moment, for one small moment, she had frozen. This day wasn't going so badly, after all. Groveling, indeed.
"Besides, my love," he continued, "If you are so put off by these men, you could always go and recruit them yourself.  In any case, at least I'm doing my job properly. Under your watchful eyes, no doubt a rat or two slipped in between the cracks."

"Well Cateye, strictly between you and me, I don't think the captain likes you like that," she whispered to him with a straight face. "I mean he might find you a bit weird if you laid out a spread for him like that. But," Morgan shrugged and chuckled, "to each's own I suppose."

Back in her realm, the ship's quartermaster was able to parry with her own verbal venom and fire. Taking a more authoritative stance, she stared the smaller man down. "Last I checked, recruiting wasn't your job. What do you do anyway? Because I don't think I ever see you working, you lazy sausage. You're usually off annoying poor Eli, speaking of which did you really just leave him there alone? The poor boy's going to melt into his seat before we get anyone else to join up. Honestly Cateye, must you torture him so?"

Chris' nose twitch at Morgan's whispers.
The man was a bit homophobic, and found the thought of him having a romantic dinner with Zypher though slightly amusing, definialy far out of his tastes.
"Indeed," he replied with a stiff grin.
Snapping back would have been useless. Besides, though Cateye was his name, he wasn't one to engage in catty behavior.

As the quartermast loomed over him, Chris stared up right back at her with a calm demenour, his gaze unflinching.
"Madam, if you see me doing something, that means something is wrong," he replied with a chortle of his own.
It's thanks to me riff raft don't go crawling into your quarters. What they expect to find, though, I' haven't the slightest idea, he thought with a saucy grin.
However, he knew better than to voice such an opinion; she was his superior, after all.
He had to consider his manners.
Besides, that wasn't entirely true. Though he was in charge of the night watch and security of the ship, he also worked on the ropes as well as worked with Elias when it came to navigating the ship. But the two of them knew percicely what his job was; there was no need for them to go over his duties.


"Elias is an apt and sturdy fellow," Chris said in his friend's defence, praying that his words were the truth, "The job's an easy enough one, and he has his books for company. Besides, if you've forgottten, I must pester him," he continued, "In any case, I'd wager that you'd scare off the lads before he can get them coming. Speaking of which..."
The man scanned the crew and the recruits. It was easy to pick them out among their crowd, but something was off. His eyes landed on Sky. Chris frowned as he leered at her. She was dressed in men's clothing and fithly; though it was hard for him to pick out her gender quite yet, he could still make out some feminine features.
Rather like that girlish lad, Oliver, he thought.
"I don't remember that one," he said as he turned towards Morgan, a little annoyed.
"Whose he? A new swabbie?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed even though what she would say next would be in jest. "Are you saying that I am incapable of preforming my duties Walker? My duty is to the ship and the crew. I cannot be in two places at once, as such my duty to the ship and its current crew comes first to the attainment of new members. I would not scare off crew members, that's Zephyr's job anyway," she smirked.

"Just once could you leave Eli alone though? You know he prefers his maps to people just as you know that I had use of him today. It does not take two to man a recruitment table. You were sent to man it and yet here I find you not at the table and the work not finished. Mind explaining that? Or better yet," her eyes turned to Sky as well, "if you were indeed doing your job, then why do you not recognize the twig of a cabin boy you sent me?"

Chris opened his mouth and then closed it shut.
What does she bloody mean, why I don't recognize the lad?
The man fumed.
"I never sent him," he retorted, "I remember every face at the table, and that boy was not one of them!"
His good eye widened then narrowed as he realized what he just said.
"What sort of idiot is that child?" he dryly asked.
Most stowaways generally had the sense to hide, but if this one wanted to work, then why did they not bother going through the process? Chris could only assume they were ignorant of it all, but what a pain this all was.

How many more are there? he thought, his good eye scanning the crew.
Thankfully, he couldn't spot any at the moment.
Though that doesn't mean they aren't there, he grimly thought. That was something he would just have to go over the next day, before they set sail.
"Everything else seems to be in order," he said.

"Perhaps then he came when you were not doing your duty." Morgan held up the flowers with a smirk. "Last I knew they did not sell such things as these in the kinds of places where one would find those daring enough to join a crew, Cateye."

She waited as he perused the crew before recrossing her arms and staring down at him. "Is that so now? Well since it has your approval perhaps you can get back to doing your job and assist with the loading of that wood. I will not be hearing it later how it was all arranged wrong or damaged. Your head will roll if it's not right Cateye. Now, move it," she ordered, sending him on his way and turning on heel to assess the crew for herself.

Surprise briefly shaped her features before wary curiosity took its place. "Hands! Put some backbone into your work man! This isn't some pleasure ride. You're going to get your hands dirty, so start doing so now," Morgan harshly called, marching up to the man, flowers still in hand.

Shouldering a second bundle of wood and planks and with a bag of nails in his other hand, Vladimir stepped by the yellowed man and bumped his with his elbow. "Regular bucket of rose petals and daises, ain't she?" He snickered, jerking his chin towards the quartermaster. "Me ears caught wind of a stowaway on board- I can cut 'is head off, if you reckon we oughtta." He offered in a deliberately carrying whisper, grinning savagely at the scrap of a girl. It wasn't that Vladimir particularly wanted to kill the boy, and the man didn't seem to be the kind that would execute a stowaway when tossing them over was still an option- 'he ain't got the wild eyes'- but it would be fun to frighten the lad. "Or maybe we can slit 'im 'cross his middle and toss him over once we're out, fish around him. His insides'll bring sharks, and sharks is good eatin'."

Chris had a catty remark to that, but instead smartly straightened his back and gave a gracious bow.
"Yes, ma'am," he said curtly as he turned on his heel.
The man walked away, shaking his head.
By and by, Morgan, he thought, You're wrong. I baught it off from a girl in the market. There's a little beauty in rough palces, so it seems.
Yet he would never tell her that- a bit too long winded for his tastes, and that woman would have probably thought that would be a bit too forward.
A regular dog, he thought as a grin tugged at this lips.

The man gave a nod of greeting towards Vladimir, and snorted at the man's assessment of the situation.
"You'd take care to watch your tongue around Ms. Morgan," he sternly warned the new comer as his eye scanned the ship. Chris didn't want word of a stowaway spreading about now. It'd spread either way, but  he wanted to nip it in the bud while he still could. The image of the lad being fed to sharks didn't entertain Chris as much as it did Vladimir, nor did the man's eagerness for unnecessary violence. Still, he agreed that the boy had to be punished.
"I appreciate your concern, but kindly leave that affair to me," he dryly replied.

With that, Chris pointed in the direction of a door by the stairway that lead to the starboard.
"The hold's over there. Step lively," he said as he began to walk in its direction. It was important that the pirates  knew exactly where supplies where on the ship and where. Chris prided himself in efficency.
"Do you need a hand?"

Hans had long finished the task he was assigned and was about to ask for another when he noticed that the Quartermaster's mood seemed to have turned sour. So instead he assigned himself busy work and climbed up to the rigging.

Hans had read several books on ship rigging. it didn't take him long to figure things out. He began checking several things in the rigging, knot strength, pulley support, and various other essentials in the most crucial part of the ship. he kept working his way to the other part of the ship, correcting mistakes, setting up for efficiency. If he was correct, he would be turning an eight man job into a four man job. It was rather ingenious. But he would have to wait until they went to sea to test his ingenuity. If his setup didn't work, the job would be exactly the same as it was before. Climbing down from the rigging, Hans made his way to another job.

((Pray pardon my tardiness, been a busy week.))

"Aw, who knows- maybe if I be lucky she'll slap me around some." Vladimir chuckled. "Always loved a wench what puts up a good fight. It breeds respect." The cloaked man nodded absent assent at the remainder of Chris' speech, uttering a simple "aye" when told to step lively and doing so. Looking up towards the rigging he spied the man that dressed as a scholar, and glancing over he saw the quartermaster glaring daggers his way. "She's got a mean eye. And from what I seen, sailing women earn them mean eyes or they ain't got 'em."
   "Naw, don't exactly 'need' help. S'only a bit of wood. Still though, the more hands we 'ave carryin' the faster it's done. Unless you got sumthin' better ta do." He replied with a shrug.

Furious at being ignored by one of the newest seamonkies, Morgan gripped Hans' shoulder in a vice-like grip and yanked him around to face her. "Listen up, you mutt! When I tell you to do something, you damn well do it. Now in order for things to run smoothly aboard this vessel, we communicate to each other. When I give you an order, you respond in the affirmative. When I ask you to jump, your response better be "yes sir, how high sir?" Am I understood, maggot?"

The quartermaster was livid and well onto her way to going on a fullout rampage. She hated coming into port because it meant the switching of crew members. Breaking in the greenhorns was only fun once they were able to weigh anchor. As long as they still had land within sight they all tended to be far cockier in her opinion than they should be. It was only once there was nothing but an endless horizon in all directions that the fear of the sea could be fully wrought in their hearts.

Every few years there was some like this batch that seemed to take great pleasure and pride in believing they could pull one over the female quartermaster. However, without the captain close at hand to calm her agitated nerves, Morgan found that her molten rage was too close to the surface to control much longer. The next person who tried to push her buttons today was going to find themselves in a fight they most likely were not about to win.

Chris could have cracked a grin at Vladimir's observation about sailor women, if it weren't for the man that was checking the rigging.
"Indeed,"  he replied, distracted.
He  squinted his good eye as the sun glared down him.
That wasn't one of his men. Who was that? Why were they up there?  The rigging was his responsibility; anybody who climbed those ropes answered to him. This highly annoyed him, more than anything else. When they were on shore, Chris was a little more patient about such foolish behavior. Those recruited usually learned their place very, very quickly.

Chris nodded at  Vladimir's statement.
"Still, everything has its proper place," he explained, pulling aside a swabbie that was walking past, a straw-haired and scrawny lad of about 17. He was an inch taller than Chris.
"Yes, sir?" he replied, nervously.
"See to it that Mr. Vladimir piles the wood in the exact location," he ordered.
The man nodded curtly towards Vladimir.
"I'll join you shortly. I've something to take care of," he said.
The boy nodded. With that, the boy lead the way inside the dark hold towards the lefthand most corner in the back.

Chris briskly made  his way towards Hans. Cateye quickly noted that he wasn't the only annoyed one. Morgan got to the man first, ripping him a good one. He almost flinched; it was no good interrupting her while she was angry. The man hadn't seen her this livid for a while. Though it was amusing, he couldn't call it refreshing.  He almost felt pity for the man for igniting her wrath. When she was finished, Chris slowly approached the pair. He made a noise in his throat, a smart 'ahem' to catch their attention.

"One moment, Morgan, if you please," he said apologetically towards her. He turned towards the new recruit.
"You, there," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 
"Could you  kindly explain to me what were you doing on my rigging?"

Hans nearly yelped when Morgan grabbed his shoulder, she caught him off guard. He then took the the tongue lashing without so much as flinching. "Aye Sir, there shan't be an issue in the future Sir." Normally that would be the end of it. But it seemed that another member of the crew found issue with him.

"Ensuing efficiency Sir. If the Quartermaster will allow me, I can show you exactly what I did. You should find that I effectively halved the labor force needed to lower and raise the sails. And I can easily undo it should you find it unsatisfactory. And should you find it unsatisfactory, I will accept any punishment for wasting time."

Vladimir met the swabbing boy's nod with something between a grin and a leer, following him to the hold. "'Round anywhere then?" At the lad's gesture, he dropped the planks next to a barrel and tossed the nails nearby. "Get some meat on yer bones." He said, prodding the other man in the ribs with a finger playfully before retrieving the load he had dumped haphazardly on the deck. As he piled it atop the second, Vladimir idly wondered what had become of the carpenter and that new bloke. "Likely they still be standing around jawin'," He grumbled under his breath, "Hope that lad lays wood as good as he does yap." At this rate, he would end up loading all the wood himself! "Bah." He grunted, shrugging it all off. 'Twas a petty complaint, and the wolf-man put it behind him as he went for another load.

Morgan's eyes widened before narrowing to fiery slits as she listened to the greenhorn's yapping. Her left hand gripped the hilt of her sword that rested there, so tightly that she was sure she would have a bruise in the pattern of the grip for days to come.

She sent a silent, yet telling look to the second mate. Chris would have his time with this supposed doctor as soon as she was finished with him. Not only had he tread on her territory but his as well. If such insubordination were to continue it would be the lash for him. Even now she was finding it difficult to not just drag him up before the mast and lay waste of his back until he learned his lesson. Good men died, when others took it upon themselves to do whatever they wanted. There was an order and balance within the crew that must be obeyed. To do otherwise, especially on Morgan's watch was to bring the very hounds of Hell snapping at your heels.

"Fancy yourself a bit of know-it-all then, Hands? Is your title Captain? Is this your ship? Do I work for you? No, no, and," she paused as if thinking before glaring fiercely and hissing coldly "no. You're nothing, a nobody. What right do you think you have to come onto our ship and tell us how to do our jobs? None! I run this ship under the captain's orders and therefore you follow mine."

Angrily the quartermaster shoved Hans' shoulder and got more in his face. "Perhaps you did not know but this is Second Mate Chris Walker and this," she waved up to the masts above them, "is his rigging. He has been here longer than you maggot and unless he has told you to do so, you do not touch it. He has served aboard this ship long enough to earn his position and respect. You have not. You should just be thankful you will even get a meal and a bunk to sleep in at the end of the day!"

Morgan gripped the man's shirt tightly in her fist and tried to throw him into Chris. "You talk to him," she growled, disgustedly, "otherwise I'm going to kill him!" Her arms crossed over her chest as she contemplated the many ways she could make this man's life a living hell here.

Ensuing efficiency.
Out of all the possibly worst things that man could have said as a reply, that was perhaps the worst. Chris could have killed Hans for that. He inhaled sharply.
Who in all the wide oceans of the earth did he bloody hell think he was?
Ensuing efficiency.
His rigging!
Chris clenched his fists even tighter as his jaw hardened.
He was about to give the man a fine tongue lashing when Morgan threw him a knowing glance.

The man stood up straight and squared out his shoulders, listening with a hardened, but calm expression as Morgan lectured the new sailor. An immense wave of gratitude and respect for Morgan swept through the pirate. Aye, she was a wild one, and not much of a lady. However, she could turn the wind around if she fancied it, and none was truer than she.
Or more wretched, he sullenly thought as she unexpectedly tossed the man over towards him.
"Yes, ma'am," he grumbled, shoving the weight of Hans off of himself.

Chris sighed. This was an utter waste of his time.
"Mr. Hans, I do believe," he said coldly.
"Stand up smartly, now," he demanded as he began to pace around the sailor.
Where to even begin...
"I believe Ms. Morgan has made herself perfectly clear. The only thing saving you from a lashing is because I hired you as a doctor, and expect you to engage to your duties immediately. Notice, sir, how I said doctor, and not rigger?"
Chris waved a hand towards the ropes.
"You don't appear to me as a man of the seas, so it's obvious to me that you don't understand that you don't touch something you don't understand."
Chris was vibrant and furious now. He unflinchingly stood in front of Hans, his face inches away. The pirate's glass eye gleamed in the light.
"Our rigging works a certain way, and your efficiency could very well cost our men lives," he said, venomously.
"Now, where did you interfere?  You're costing me precious moments of my time by having me correct your idiotic mistakes. Show me where you redid the knots and don't you ever go up my rigging again unless I specifically order you to.  Do I make myself clear, doctor?"

Damon was grateful he had taken his time in arriving. He crossed to the plank and walk up, careful not to glance towards the man now being scolded. 'Best to mind my own business,' he thought as he approached the woman who appeared to be in charge.

Stopping at the end of the plank, and careful not to set foot on deck just yet, he introduced himself. "Damon Pyth at your service miss." With a bow, he added, "I'm here to help wherever I am needed."

Cane held the ship in his gaze for a long while, staring openly at the thing that marked his every dream as a child. He had followed the rumors and sure enough the ship with the Chalice flag was there. He come all the way from Thanatos just to find a ship like this.

He walked up the gangplank and paused, hearing a stern voice. He also saw the other man that climbed ahead of him. Unsure of what to do he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking about nervously.

Hans' pride was crushed under the verbal assault of the quartermaster. It wasn't like he was trying to make every important person on the ship cross at him in one day. Oh no that would be a foolish man's desire, Hans liked to think that he was not a foolish man. But the Quartermaster's words rung true, he was new to the vessel and it was not his place to even attempt to work the rigging, he was lucky he was not being whipped at this very moment.

Then the Second Mate tore into him, at least he wasn't yelling. But his mood was obvious, he was quite pissed, as he had every right to be. Hans did not break eye contact with the man but it was obvious that it was not out of defiance. "Aye Sir, if you will follow me up I shall show you what I did."

Once up in the rigging, Hans took a moment to marvel at the set up of the ropes, it was not much different than it's original state, in fact only one thing had been changed, the ropes that hold up the main sail and attach it to the mast had been looped and a rope run through the loop, it was called a linemen's setup and was used to effectively raise and lower the sails with the minimal amount of force absolutely required, turning a job for a large amount of men into a job for as few as two. "Just pull the rope out of the loops and it's back to it's original state, it's my own rope but I have no use for it now, I'm sure you can find a use for it."

With wide eyes, Sky looked around the ship. She had been daydreaming, waiting to be told to do something. After all, she had no idea how to deal with the gunpowder.

But then people started coming. She had walked towards the edge of the ship to talk to them, but soon decided that was a bad idea. There was yelling, shouting, and screaming. Sky had been backing away slowly when the strong man who had threw flowers at the mean woman (why would anyone get her flowers? Sky wondered) started talking about her. Sky kept looking back and forth, eyes continuously widening, and was about to say something when they switched topics again.

Unhappy that she seemed to have made a bad first impression with someone that looked important, Sky frowned and tried to follow the rest of the conversation. Tried to. All she really gathered, however, was that both the important strong man (did she catch his name was Chris?) and the mean woman were mad at this other new guy... a doctor... for trying to help. Sky had some troubles wrapping her head around this. But not wanting to anger Chris anymore, Sky merely continued looking around before, with a sigh, she backed away from the side of the ship.

With all of these new people aboard, Sky figured at least one of them would approach her and, probably, yell at her telling her to work. She hoped, however, that she'd be able to introduce herself to someone. Preferably someone that knew magic. And would teach her. But, as she didn't want to anger anyone, Sky decided to wait for someone to come to her.

Walking back and forth, over the gangplank time and again, Vladimir realized something- he was tired of hauling wood and nails. Boredom was beginning to set in, and he was increasingly anxious to set sail before the town guard discovered the body in the alleyway and decided to investigate. 'All it be takin' is one lousy magpie,' he thought to himself, 'One bleedin' lout to sing out and then they be remembering, aye, there be a mighty shifty-looking stranger in these parts, and then wit' the damn questions.' Someone had to have seen him come here. The bottom of his sleeve cuff was red with blood, and though he had tried to chew it clean, the stain was still there. 'One blinkin' sod with blood on 'is hand and yer guilty.'
   Snatched from his reverie by the sound of raised, angry voices, the river pirate turned his head and grinned widely. "He did seem the like wot knows too much fer his own good," he snickered. Being thusly distracted he plowed right into the filthily-dressed cabin boy, nearly tripping in the process. "Oy!" He snapped, just barely catching his balance. "Feckless bleeding little-" Vladimir bit his lip suddenly, an idea flaring into his mind. He was bored with carrying wood. There were people standing at the gangplank- 'Cringing more like, a'feared to put a toe on thin ice' he thought with a mental sneer- and they didn't show any sign of moving out of his way. But now, it wasn't his problem- Vladimir smelled delegation.
   "Oy. Lad." Vladimir said suddenly. "Run on and fetch the last bitta wood an' like. Toss it in the hold with the rest o' the lot. Do it quick-like and I'll show ye a trick." He added as an afterthought.

Keen eyes snapped to focus on the gangway and the two figures standing there. A guttural huff of disgust sounded from the quartermaster's chest as she allowed her gaze to once more rest on the ship's second mate and their new doctor. It did not escape her in that roving glance how the cabin boy was still loitering around but she would leave that to another matter has at least someone on the ship was trying to keep him in line. Those two could be dealt with later.

"Is everyone an imbecile here or have you all driven me mad?" she muttered testily. Louder still she continued, "Cateye, keep the rat out of my sight before I skin you both alive." Arm still crossed over her chest, she stomped over to the two men, if one could even call them that, hovering about awkwardly.

"You will get no welcome from me, so straighten up and shape up boys. Were you recruited or you both a bunch of dewy-eyed lads looking for an adventure? Because I assure you, you will find no such thing here. I am your quartermaster and as you can already see I don't take insubordination or caviler attitude well. This is not your ship and I am not your mother. If you want to leave the next chance you get is overboard so I suggest you both consider hard the choice you are making. And once you have done that, think again. I'll not have children running rampant aboard The Chalice. Am I understood?

"And you boy," she addressed Cane, her gaze dark and foreboding, "give me your name."

"C-Cane ma'am. Cane Malanoson. I-I'm here to join the crew ma'am!" Cane looked at the quartermaster, his eyes filled with awe, a pirate! A real pirate! He extended his hand, expecting to shake. If one looked closely at his face they would realize the shaking that was being done by his hands was not fear, it was excitement. All his life he had pretended to be a pirate, now he would really get to be one.

This bastard is getting more infuriating by the second.
At least he was proper enough to keep eye contact, Chris thought, approvingly.
Still, he couldn't help but to shake off the feeling that Hans was purposefully trying to insult him, or was dense enough to do it, naturally.
I asked him to point, not give me a tour of my own rigging!
Chris clenched his teeth together, a bit baffled as he found himself following the new surgeon to his own rigging. He tried to keep his murderous thoughts to himself.
We need him, Chris thought, sullenly. He sometimes hated it when he was right.

Chris expertly scurried up the ropes, climbing just a little bit higher than Hans. His eyebrows knitted together as his good eye inspected the job Hans had done. So the surgeon wasn't a total idiot when it came to these things. Though he was sore to admit it, the knot was properly done. He was surprised that Hans even knew this technique. In truth, the pirate himself never really thought of using it. Chris grunted as he properly perched himself so that he could work without falling.
"It's sloppy," he dryly replied as he began to undo Han's knot.
"You're dismissed. Watch your step. I don't want you  breaking your neck."

A trick?! thought Sky, excitedly. She didn't even care that the eared man had run into her.

Sprinting to the wood, Sky smiled. She picked up some of the wood and her knees almost buckled beneath her. It was heavier than she had thought. Sky quickly readjusted her hold on the wood and stood up straight again. Now that she knew the wood was more than just a few pounds, Sky wasn't going to carry it recklessly. She wanted to show everyone on the ship that she had a use. And since she obviously couldn't clean, Sky figured that her strength would probably be her only saving factor.

Within minutes, Sky had finished bringing all the wood to the pile. It seemed that the eared man had finished most of it beforehand. Sky ran to the eared man since she had finished. Slowing down as she neared him, Sky asked, "Can I learn a trick now?"

As the grizzled wolf-human hybrid watched the scrawny scrap of a cabin boy dash back and forth with the load of planks and such he nodded slightly to himself. Vagabonds always learned to pick up every little sign to read the people they met, it could mean the difference between survival and death. And Vladimir had just confirmed what the child's ratty, decrepit clothing had suggested- the stamina, that wiry, dirty frame, the confident efficiency with which he toted a load that would have toppled any lad of aristocracy, even some of the peasant boys used to long hours of farm labor would have staggered a bit under it. 'That one's a street urchin, or I've never been.' Absently he flicked his wrist as he thought, the hilt of a knife slapping into his palm from his sleeve as he reached back to slit a small hole in the cloak for his tail. Vladimir sighed languidly as the furry mass finally flopped into fresh air- he hated keeping it under his clothes.
   "Aye lad," He said aloud as he slipped the blade back into his sleeve. "If ya looked careful-like ye'll see how to make a runty cabin boy do yer work for ye. Haaa harr harrr!" He laughed raucously. "Nahr, jes havin' fun with ya. Lookie here," he said, slipping his hand into one of his many pockets and fishing out a few coins- he had cut a few purses since the fruit stand incident. He palmed all but one as he said "hold this'n fer me" and took the child's hand, pressing the visible copper piece edgewise into Sky's palm. Years of earning meager shelter and food day-to-day had pushed him to learn many sleight-of-hand tricks, the more he knew, the more he earned. Slipping it through his fingers to make it appear as though the coin had sunk into the child's palm and only a small red mark remained, Vladimir flourished his hand as he turned over Sky's, so that his palm faced down with his fingers open- meanwhile slipping the single copper piece back down his sleeve. "Arr'ight now, give 'er back." At the child's puzzled look, he said "well, c'mon now!" and clapped his hand down over Sky's, slipping the rest of the hidden coins through the child's fingers and sending them clattering to the deck- making it appear as though he had inserted one coin into the cabin boy's flesh and shaken out several in its place. "Oy! Lookit all that!" He barked with a laugh. "Been squirellin' bits away, eh?"
   With a small chuckle, he clapped the lad on his shoulder and strode over to where he stood beneath Chris, still up in the rigging. He whistled shrilly to catch the man's attention and reported, "Wood's all aboard, mate! Orders?"

Hans Climbed back down the rigging in time to see the 'trick', the main byproduct being a small cut on the kid's hand. An interesting trick it was, there was still a chance that the cut, even as small as it was, could get infected. Hans pulled a small bottle of alcohol out of his bag, it was a very strong alcohol that hans used for sterilizing, he then came up to the boy, "Let me see you hand real quick, I'm the new doctor and I would like to make sure that you don't get an infection."

Morgan growled and yanked the boy tight into her space by his extended arm, her grip tight upon his wrist. "Listen up whelp, you better wipe that starry-eyed look off your face before I do it for you. I'm not your mother and I'm not here to coddle you. You have a problem you come to me but, if I catch you causing trouble or not taking trouble like a man I'll whip you myself with nary a flinch. What I need around here are hard-working men not boys looking for hand-outs. You want that, go down and take your pan out behind the baker's and the butcher's places, I'm sure they still have scraps to spare for the dogs."

She gave his arm one more squeeze before releasing but did not take a step back, forcing him to either stand and face her in their invaded personal space or to be the first one to step down. "If you're still interested in being part of this crew then step lively and get to work, otherwise toddle back down that plank before I send you rolling down there myself!"

It wasn't what he expect, it was like back home, on the big fishing ships, the men always had you prove yourself before they let you ride along. The only thing that took him by surprise was that it was a woman, but his mother made this woman look quite nice in comparison and he knew what this one was looking for was a hardened sea lad.

He held her gaze through the whole speech, when she let him go he snapped smartly into a deep sea sailors salute and turned to the dock, at first glance it might look like he was going to walk down that gang plank and leave, but t the bottom he took up two barrels of dried fruit and hefted them onto each shoulder. This was something he knew. He walked smartly up the gangplank without sparing a glance at his feet and walked to the storage below decks, setting the fruit where it would be easy to get to but not in way. His father was a fisherman on the deep sea vessels, he'd grown up on deep sea vessels, he could already feel how this ship would rock in a harsh storm, how it would roll in a calm sea, and most importantly, how it would tip if it took on water. It was one of those sixth sense a person developed when they spent a lot of time on different ships

He went for three more loads of equipment and gear before he stopped, not even sweating, the loading done.

Damon watched as the young man took the tongue lashing, and knew he would be next. Something told him he could never make this woman happy, no matter how good of a job he did. However, he was here to be helpful and do his best, not to get the approval of people he had never met before. He would be happy to just avoid making her angry. But at the moment, it was best to get this part over with quickly. With a bow, he introduced himself, "Damon Pyth, at your service. Miss...?"

Oh, bloody hell, there was another one.
Chris scanned the crew as he noticed Cane for the first time.
First there was that street urchan, and now this frightened mess. Well, at least the rest of his men were accounted for, and were doing their duties, more or less. The man sighed and waited until Hans was gone and not paying attention before redoing the knot that Hans had done. He had a keen eye for these things, and after a flustered attempt, Chris got it down.
There, he thought with a satisfied nod.
His linemen's set up looked exactly liked Hans.

Just then, a whistle caught his attention.  Chris nodded at Vladimir's question.  He appreciated the hard work.
"Good man," he replied.
Out of the corner of his good eye he watched as Morgan fearsomely pick up the small lad.
Easy,  he thought with a frown.
The pirate nodded towards Vladimir. He needed to check for frayed lines. Now was as good as a time as any to do so. With acrobatic grace, he scurried down the lines until he was at Vladimir's eye level. Morgan would probably have him scrapping barnacles off the side of the ship, Chris decided that would have to temporarily wait.
"What do you know about rigging?" he asked.

Sky had watched the whole coin trick with wide eyes. In fact, she had wide eyes even before the trick started. After seeing the eared man's tail, Sky got excited. But the trick confused her. It must be some sort of slight of hand trick—she knew that much from her life on the streets—but what exactly did he do? But, after a second of thought, she decided that she didn't care.

This decision came from her disappointment. When the tailed man said he'd teach her a trick, Sky was thinking magic or fighting of some sort. Not a magic trick. Her good mood was ruined. Sky hated having her hopes raised and then crushed. But she was on a pirate ship now. Any sign of weakness or sadness could send her over the edge, and she knew that.

So Sky lifted her head up, laughed at the trick, and then looked the doctor in the eye as the tailed man walked away. After hearing what he had to say, she looked at her hand. It didn't really hurt or anything. But she lifted her hand up for him, anyway. She had some respect for doctors—after all, every street person knew that the smallest of cuts could kill them if they got infected.

Sky wasn't just going to stand there in silence, though. So instead she opened her talkative mouth and asked, "Do you know any magic?" After all, that was her favorite question.

"This may sting a bit" Hans said as he poured a little of the alcohol on the cut then pressed his thumb to it. He then began to push power into the cut, forcing it to heal itself. "Do I know magic?" He removed his thumb, the cut was barely a scar now. The entire healing process had been skipped. "Take a look then you tell me."

Leaned over the rail, sighing, he'd expected adventure, not the usual dull tasks of loading and prepping for the journey, he'd known it would be there, but he'd expected everyone to wear a cutlass or two and be ready for fights, not intimidating women who yelled. He'd hold out for the whole voyage though, he'd signed on and he had a sailors honor, if it didn't get more exciting soon he'd leave off in some port.

Vladimir shrugged non-committaly at his being labeled a "good man"- 'He'll learn,' he thought with a snicker- and watched in silence as the yellow first mate shimmied down the rigging with all the grace and dexterity of a chipmunk. "Rigging?" He said in response to Chris' question, "Reckon I knows me a fair 'and on ropes. Worked a ship a'fore, I 'ave. Mind ya, t'was a river craft, but I reckon the ropes be much the same." He said with another shrug.

"Drop the Miss, Plyth, it's Quartermaster or Sir. I didn't work this hard to become first mate so that I could have some snot-nosed pipsqueak like you calling me Miss. Next I know one of you will be calling me mommy. So can you actually do anything Demon-boy or do you just like repeating your name over and over to me? That's the second time you've told me it and yet you've done nothing else since arriving. Have you even worked on a ship before? Have any of you?" she growled, raising her voice as she looked about at the other men in their various states of activity.

"And Canner," she bit out, glaring down the lollygagger leaning across the rail. "I send you to work and you stare off towards land? If you're homesick already boy, go home! I don't need crybabies missing their mamas aboard this ship. Is that understood? Both of you?"

She was angry alright. There were far too many youngsters aboard and all of them greenhorns. Scanning about, she caught sight of the doctor and rolled her eyes. 'He'll be out of supplies before we even leave port.' Looking further, her hard gaze rested on the mutt and Cateye. 'Even those that aren't so wet behind the ears are concerning. This is going to take a lot of work. Cateye and Eli better know what they hell they're doing or I'll tan all their hides! I don't have time to be making boys into men when we head out to sea. Sure hope they can learn fast.'

Cane didn't flinch when he was scolded for looking out over the land. "I was born on a ship, raised on ships and have served as crew on ships bigger than this since I was fifteen, I'm a born sailor, my whole family is. I just don't like the idea of being fisherman for the rest of my life."

He was young, and a little stupid, but he was at least honest, something rare in ocean going men. He' work just as hard as everyone else, harder even, but only until he'd finished his contract. he had been smart in one way at least, he'd only signed on for one voyage to start.

Chris considered Vladimir's answer. Certainly wasn't the best and he already had men that could do the job, but he wanted to test the new men out. River crafts were hardly anything compared to an ocean ship like this, so it might even be harder to teach Vladimir a whole new set of thinking ,but at least he would be familiar with some of the same knots and techniques. That was enough, for now.
"Fine," he responded.
He could have jumped off from where he was, but Chris just waited until he was a little above the ground before hopping off. Showing off would be unseemly and unnecessary.
"Then I want you up here, looking for frayed lines. But first kindly go get a kit. It's in the hold. Get on it."

He made his way towards Morgan and the men and boys who have yet to earn their sea legs on the chalice. Chris had no doubt Morgan had everything under her control- her irritation and shouting of comands displayed her composure-  but he figured that it was only polite to help out where he could. He arrived in time to hear the end of Cane's story.
"Boy," he called out, towards Cane.
"Save the story swapping for later, we've work to be done."
He turned towards a nearby swabbie, a small boy of fifteen who had been on the ship for a few months. Chris believed the Adelan lad went by the name of Finn. If he need Vladimir on the ropes, somebody had to clean the ship's sides.
"Mr. Finn, kindly take this one to go clean barnacles and grime off of the ship."
The man arched a brow in Sky's direction. A flash of serious concern flashed in his good eye.
"Perhaps you'll wish to have this one on duty, too?" he asked Morgan with a knowing smirk.
The task wouldn't be too complicated, but tedious enough to keep him out of her hair.

It didn't sting at all, but Sky didn't say anything. However, she was interested on what he said about magic. With widened eyes, she looked at her hand. It was true—the cut was completely healed. Her eyes getting even bigger, she looked up at the magic doctor and asked, "What did ya do? Is it real magic? Will ya teach me? Please?" Her eyes went back to her hand, then back to him, then back to her hand. "It looks like magic."

Then, taking a second to think, Sky realized that she didn't really know much about medicine. She had heard that it could work miracles. And without the money to pay for treatment, she hadn't ever truly witnessed any healing happen. But she decided that even if it was just science, she still wanted to know how to do it. If it could heal like it did, then she was satisfied. It wasn't nearly as cool as fighting magic, but it was still amazing. And it might still be magic anyway.

With all these thoughts running through her head, she didn't hear her name even with her great hearing. Luckily for Sky, the flower man wasn't actually talking to her.

Vladimir jerked his chin up slightly in assent. "Aye." With that he turned on his heel and strode to the supply cabin. Looking about, he quickly spotted what he was looking for- a ball of fine, tough twine and a coil of ropes for those that needed replacing rather than repair, among other items useful to his current endeavor. Shrugging his gear and guitar case off his shoulder, he propped them in the corner, slinging the rope about his chest in their stead- and with that, he was off to work.
  It was a short trip back to the rigging's base, and from there he scrambled up more quickly than carefully. Nearing the top, he lost his balance for a moment and swung his arms rapidly, snagging the ropes just in time- the swaying of ships was much more pronounced on the sea, it would seem. "Like'n these bloody boots ain't helpin'. Too clumsy fer line work..." He pulled one off and studied it for a moment. The laces were frayed almost to the point of uselessness, there was a hole in the toe, not to mention in both the heel and ball of his left boot. The right sole was almost entirely gone, with only ragged leather scraps clinging to the arch. "Bleedin' rubbish anyway." The pirate grunted, sending first one, then the other boot sailing into the ocean with the rest of the garbage that always seemed to collect in the swells of port towns. Besides, bare feet and leather wraps provided better grip on wet timbers.
  One problem solved, another to go, he began to shimmy along the ropes checking the stress points as he went. Occasionally he'd mend the frayed spot there, check for tightness here, making sure all the pulleys and eyelets were oiled and positioned correctly. Vladimir noticed the knot that was the subject of Hans' miserable chewing-out. Also noticed it was just the same as when the doctor had tied it, despite the first mate making the appearance of indignation. "Ol' limey prick." He chuckled good-naturedly, continuing with his inspection and splicing the frayed ends where they needed it.

Cane sighed at the mentioned of barnacles. He hated scraping barnacles, but he was good at it. When you hated a job enough you learned ways to end it quickly. He gathered ropes and fashioned a sling, rappelling over the sides with the scraper in hand he began chiseling at a steady pace, he didn't even wait for the swabbie. He worked in a grid pattern, focusing on one spot at a time.

Damon had no experience on a ship, but he was a quick learner. He really needed the job, and would be more than happy to do the work expected of him. Though not great at anything in particular, he was good at most anything he tried. Wearing his most confident face, he said,"I have never worked on board a ship before, but I'm eager to help out where I can. Just let me know where I'm needed and I'll go to work."

Morgan's hand tightened on the bouquet of flowers in frustration. If it was not for Chris's foresight of the storm that was brewing within her, there would have been significantly fewer crew members aboard the ship once the captain returned.

The very thought of the absent captain and the darkening sky was enough to rekindle her ire. Shaking the flowers in Plyth's face she growled. "You grab the runt and get to work with Canner. I catch any of you lot lollygagging and you'll be scraping barnacles off the seafloor. "

Shocked registered on her face as she caught sight of what she was brandishing. She fell silent, unaware if her orders were followed through with as her eyes blinked in surprise at the bouquet.

"Cateye!" Morgan barked, "Heed me, I have need of you."

Damon was startled when she swung the flowers into his face. Although, it must have surprised her too, judging by the look she gave him. "Yes sir," he replied to her command, and quickly walked off to begin his work.

Damon approached the man he was to be working with. "Hello. Canner was it? I'm Damon. How can I help?"

(OOC: sorry for the massive delay! >.<)

Hans still had a light but firm grasp on the boy's wrist, something seemed off about to boy. His muscular structure in the wrist was uncommon for a boy his age, it was common in females around his age and up. Another thing was the skeletal structure of the boy, his hips were a bit wide and his shoulders dipped too much. from just a short observation, the boy was either a highly feminine, or he was a woman. He would have to take closer observations.

"Alright boy, if you want to learn from me then I suggest you get permission to work with me. I would suggest talking to the first mate, come find me once we have set sail if you get permission, my name is Hans Blanka feel free to call me whatever you like, just please avoid 'uh mister'." What hans needed to do now was find the sick bay. He started to make his way to the quartermaster but thought better of it midstep, instead making his way below deck.

Four minutes later he found the sick bay, six hanging cots with a room in the back for medical supplies and a bed for him. His only prayer was that they could avoid major navel battles, this sick bay was made for daily accidents, not for maintaining lives after a fight.

Sky was elated that the magic doctor had agreed to teach her. Well, he had basically agreed to teach her. All she needed to do now was find the first mate and get permission...

Now that she had fully understood what the doctor man had said, Sky's face whitened. She was near positive that the tatooed lady was the first mate. And that the tatooed lady did not like her. But her determination to learn magic outweighed her fears.

With a walk of determination, Sky headed straight to the tatooed lady. Then she stopped when she was about five feet away from her. The tatooed lady had an odd expression on her face. And then she called out for Cateye. Sky had no idea who Cateye was, but she assumed some kind of scolding was about to happen. After all, what else would the tatooed lady want someone for? Deciding to wait until after the tatooed lady had vented, Sky just stood there.

Chris frowned and jolted his head upwards as something small shot through the sky. Years at sea and many a fight had taught him to be wary of things that fly. It was a boot. Curious, he glared at Vladimir who was throwing his footware into the ocean.
Moran, he thought. He was going to regret this decision, sooner or later. However, it wasn't like he could make the sailor go fetch them, now.
I'll talk to him later, Chris told himself, not in the mood to shout.

Morgan's voice crudely interrupted his thoughts.
"Yes, ma'am!" he replied smartly as he briskly walked over towards her. A crooked smile formed on his lips as she clutched to the bouquet.
"Gently, now," he said. "You've been out at sea far too long. Those are flowers in your hands, not those greenleggers. You don't need to choke the life out of them."

She took a slow, soothing breath of salty sea air, intent upon calming herself at least a little. Chris was right after all, the flowers did not deserve her wrath even if they were an unprecedented gift. Morgan still was not sure what to do with them. As much as she refused to ever admit it aloud, she thought it was kind of sweet of the second mate to bring her something. He was always thoughtful like that and for the life of her, she could not understand why.

'Probably is building up to ask for some favor or other. Will have to keep an eye on the grog stores just in case.'

Nevertheless, her hand did relax its strangling hold as she let her arm lower as well. Stepping close to him so that her mouth was at his ear, she spoke quietly of the insanity she had been considering. "I suspect Captain will not be back 'til morn as is his way. Given it's the boys last night on land I was considering giving them a good send off aboard. What say you? Starting a day early on the grog barrels certainly won't offend the captain's sensibilities."

Morgan knew it would be deemed ludicrous to the rest of the crew, coming from her. But, it was how it had always been. The quartermaster barked and growled, occasionally biting, but she certainly took care of her crew and looked out for their safety and sanity without fail. If a night of light drinking would settle their hearts and minds then she was not opposed to giving it to them. Come morning they all had duties to preform and it was better to ship out with a happy crew than a heartsick one.

OOC: Time skip guys~!

Chris nodded, relieved as Morgan's grip eased up around the stem around the flowers.
Much better he thought.
Despite himself, the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. The pirate was about to ask if that was that, though was surprsied when Morgan stepped closed to him. His posture stiffened, as straight as a board. His good eye widened a little, though narrowed as she spoke. The Captain not on board? Won't be back until morning? Chris stared at Morgan, rather baffled. It was not unusal for the man to stroll out at night to bed a wench or two, but never when there was work to be done. Crew came first, and today was a hethic day. Chris didn't imagine him having business with any other crew, either. The Captain trusted his mates, and would have let them know, at least Morgan. It was a little suspicious, but Chris figured he could ask the Captain in the morning what all that was about in the morning.

"Yes," he replied, allowing himself to relax.
Chris gave Morgan one last glance before walking back towards his rigging. There were many repairs to be done, and best get them all settled before the crew was too drunk to do them tonight, or hung over to do anything decent in the morning.

---
It had been a long day's work, though Chris was pleased that more or less everything had been complete. It was almost a mircle, considereding the lot that just came in. He thoughtfully glanced down at the new comers.
A queer bunch, he thought with a scoof.
They always were.

Chris hummed to himself as he sat at the edge of his perch of the Rat's Nest, a bottle of ale in his hands. He was familiar with the tune the men were bellowing far down below. It was a wild reel, penned by men at sea. The pirate took another swing of his alcohol. The stuff wasn't strong, and he was moderating himself very closely. Of course, it still was all very dangerous, but Chris only allowed himself to do it. He watched as, by the lantern's glow, a small circle of men on deck ended the song to the cheers of the others.  Two had violins. Three were equipped with sitars, and Chris spotted a man on a whistle. There were a couple more that played, but Roric Noseslicer- dubbed so for his missing nose- was the best. A couple of barrels were played on deck, with many mugs to go around.

In the dark of the night, Chris grinned to himself as he glanced at the harbor. It was a peaceful night. He watched as sailors wobbled on and off their ships, sometimes with a dame in their arms, sometimes with each other. The man sighed as he leaned agaist the railing. In truth, he enjoyed the parties. Despite what most thought, he COULD relax. Of course, from up on the Nest, the sound was muffled, but sometimes he liked the dulled out noise.Still, from up here he could see everything, and have a place to think.

Chris scratched the back of his head as the tune switched to an Adelan lewd balled. He tuned the melody out of his head as he sat there, pensively staring out into the dark ocean. The smell of salt and faint smell of booze filled his nose. Finally, after a while, Chris got up from his seat and carefully climbed down the ropes.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said in his usual crisp manner as he made his way through the swarm to grab two mug fulls of ale. He examined the crowd and frowned. Morgan would normally be among their numbers, but he didn't see her.
Probably below deck, he thought before promptly making his way to the door that lead below deck. He hadn't had the opprotunity to talk with Morgan since the afternoon, and there were a few things he wanted to discuss. It was quiet down there, though he could hear the soft snoring of a sailor.
"Morgan?" he called out as he looked around the room.
It smelt strongly of sweat and booze. Hammochs gently swayed, the light from lanterns and candles dim.

At last the night had come. Above her on deck, Morgan could hear the majority of the crew enjoying their last night of land in sight. A couple of caskets were flowing and men laughed and sang bawdily. She did not dwell on what some of the more frustrating recruits were up to. As long as they did not cause any lasting damage to each other or the ship they were free to work things out on their own. Morgan found that it was good to open a barrel and let them enjoy themselves before shipping out so that the feelings of unity were in place long before leaving. A happy crew, worked hard and made her job easier.

But, instead of joining them she had slipped away soon after the revelry began down into the crew's shared sleeping quarters. At the end of the row of built-in bed and swaying hammocks was an open doorway with a curtain that blocked off the entrance to her own small yet somewhat private berth.

It was a cramped space with her cubby-hole bed, heavy chest, and small writing desk strewn with sea charts and various personal trinkets. The flowers Chris had given her earlier in the day could not be readily seen as they had been tucked away within her chest. A single stem stubbornly poked out from beneath the lid where it had not been noticed during the lid's hasty close.

Portholes decorated the back wall letting in cool sea air and small tendrils of moonlight that seemed to be trying to touch her as she huddled in the darkest corner of her bed, steadily sipping away at an entire bottle of the captain's wine. Morgan hated it when he left them like this, left her like this. It was something that always bothered her when they stopped ashore. The captain would disappear without a word and then return again whenever he felt like it. To others of the experienced crew it was deemed the norm but to Morgan it was hell. She hated being up waiting for him to return and not knowing when that would be. Like this time he had said they would ship out in the morn and yet the moon grew heavy in the sky and no captain was in sight.

So she hid herself away to wallow and to stew in anger and fine wine while the rest of her crewmates enjoyed themselves without her. Morgan had just begun to believe she could even get away with it without notice when she heard sounds of Chris' approach.

Her head thunked back on the wall in frustration. It was too good to be true. She even had half the mind not to say anything at all, but he would find her eventually. There was not many places for a land-fearing woman to hide aboard a ship.

Hiding the bottle away with a grimace she returned his call with a rather terse one of her own. "If they've gone and killed themselves I don' wanna know!"

The night had come without Sky even knowing what passed in the day. She was just sent from one place to another, following orders. In truth, she still barely knew any of the crew. But now she was surrounded by booze and bad singing.

In the streets, Sky had never drank any alcohol. It wasn't something that was worth stealing. It didn't satisfy hunger, was hard to get, and made one vulnerable. But now that she was on a ship surrounded by people she was to learn to trust, she figured that she'd give it a try.

But she didn't know what or how much to drink. All the ale and rum and beer looked the same to her. She didn't want to get drunk like some of the fools seemed to be by her since she knew that alcohol makes people do stupid things. And there was no way she was risking having her true gender known. But because she had never drank before, Sky had no idea how much she could drink before she'd be at risk.

She ended up wandering around the deck, hoping somebody would help her figure out what to do. Then Sky realized that she should man-up and act with her gut. If she seemed uncertain, they might not like her as much. She found and picked up an empty cup before filling it with some kind of brown liquid. She had already noticed that many of her crew mates drank the alcohol quite fast and sometimes all at once. This being her only guide, Sky chugged down all the liquid in the cup. The taste was bitter but nothing she wasn't used to from stale food. In the very last gulp, some of the alcohol got caught in her throat and caused her to cough out a spray of alcohol. Hoping that nobody witnessed that, Sky merely looked around at the night sky as if nothing was wrong.

   His face hurt.
   It hurt because he had found himself in a number of fights- quite deliberately, in fact. The way he looked at it, it might be a while until his next fight, so he had decided to store up before the voyage. He enjoyed fighting. He enjoyed thumping his fists into people's bodies. He enjoyed the minor injuries he bore from fistfights, mute reminders of good times past. The pain, after all, was not great, it was a small pain. The kind of pain that was so familiar as to be comforting. He enjoyed a certain amount of pain. The split lip on his face, the small bruise around his eye, a small cut on his forehead that trickled blood around his eye socket and down the side of his nose. Two broken knuckles on his left hand. His nose had been broken- again- and he had lost another tooth. Contusions lingered about his general person, mementos of general brawls, scraps, and carrying-on.
   His face hurt, and he loved it.

   Vladimir was a wanted man, and he was no fool. When the crew had finished their duties and the others had gone off carousing, he had stayed on board the ship. As soon as the sun had gone down, however, his hood had come up and he set out for some fun of his own. Half a bottle of rum, a few wenches, and several fights later he squatted at the aft of the ship, going through his general possessions and sorting out what he had won and stolen and weighing it against what he had lost. His cutlass was gone, but he still had his machete. Grunting, the pirate fixed it a leather strap, leaving the handle protruding over his right shoulder. He had liked that cutlass.
   Finished taking inventory, he gathered up his possessions once again, satisfied with how things had turned out. He padded barefoot into the sleeping quarters to put certain things with his assorted pouches and small packs. Briefly Vladimir considered staying there until his sharp ears caught sounds from a curtained-off part of the room. Wanting to be by himself for a while, he had slipped out instead and went back to the aft of the ship, sprawling with his back against the rail. He sat there awhile, fingers absently pulling a needle attached to coarse thread through something he'd been working on for a while. Every now and again he'd wince and shift his position. Not all the hurts he'd taken had been violent- he could inspire quite a passion in a woman; there were several sets of jagged scratch marks down his back, and a bite mark was visible on his shoulder.
   It was then he heard a choking sort of cough and looked up to see the runty cabin boy. Apparently the lad didn't take his ale well. The pirate chuckled his rough-sounding chuckle and looked over the boy- he was still dressed in rags barely fit for plugging a bilge. Vladimir himself had spent most of his life on the road, he felt a certain brotherhood with the small lad. And so it was that he hailed the scrappy child.
   "Oy! Whelp!" He called out, waving the cabin boy over. "C'mere. I got somthin' fer ya."

If one were to come into the sick bay now, you would find it a changed place, medical supplies everywhere, two additional cots where the room allowed for it. The storage room was stocked to the near point of overflowing with herbs and chemicals that went along with the career, not to mention a little project that Hans had been working on for a while now, and the underneath of the good doctors bed was compacted with books, both business and pleasure reads.

So how, pray tell, did a doctor with one measly shoulder bag have so much stuff? Well that would be the enchantment on the bag. It was a gift from his mother and father when he went of the the Arca College. It could hold entire persons, entire scores of persons, and still have room, and not have and weight change whatsoever. Magic truly was a marvel.

He did step off the vessel earlier that day to stop by the Runner's Office and mail a letter to his mother, telling her that it may be a while before they see each other again but it was little cause to worry, also asking to give his father the best regards, if he ever came to shore that was. That little bit of the day had been hard, He had always made a point to visit Blanka Manor every three months so his mother didn't get too worried, or too lonely for that matter, his father was always out to sea.

Back on the ship, he had spent till nightfall in the sickbay, making sure it was exactly the way he wanted it. once the sun had dipped below the horizon, he came out to enjoy the night with the crew, perhaps get to know some of them. Thus far he had learn that some of the crew saw him with a deathwish of some sorts or some lucky bastard or a combination of the two, one does not cross the first and second mate in mere seconds of another and live to tell the tale.

He sat on the railing at the side of the ship, sipping on some rum, enjoying the lighthearted music and singing, part of him wished he had spent more time with his father out to sea as to really be used to this sort of thing, but maybe it was because of who his father was that he found himself on this ship today.

They were loud.

This was Cane's only thought as he meditated in one of the few uncrowded spaces near the ships rails. His fishing pole was stretched out, the line in the water. He waited until the fish had just barely nipped the hook and with a swish, he set the line and hauled it up. The mackerel eyed him in that fishy way they had. Deciding the catch was too small he unhooked it and tossed it back over. Tossing the line back over he went back to meditating. He processed his thoughts about the day, made careful mental notes about the crew he had met, and put everything into order.

He hauled in another mackerel. Checked it's size. Tossed it back. "The fish here are too small." The first words out of his mouth since the sun had set.

Sky's head snapped down when she heard the eared-man's voice. She had immediately known that he was talking to her, even though he called her "whelp", which wasn't exactly what her usual nickname was. But the fact that he was waving her over helped to make her confident that it was she that he was calling to.

Since the very first moment Sky met him, she had a fascination with the dog-man. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. And it seemed to Sky that that still hadn't changed. After all, nobody had ever randomly called her over to give her anything. In fact, the only time people gave her things other than work was when she was putting up a sympathy show.

She was suspicious that it might have been some sort of trick—perhaps he was trying to poison her or just wanted to see a look of utter disappointment on her face—but Sky was willing to take that risk. Not only did she figure she'd be able to figure her way out of something like that, she also had some trust in the man. He was one of the few people on the ship who treated her well.

So with her eyes opened wide and her face full of eagerness, Sky quickly ran to the eared-man. "What 'tisit?" Sky asked, slurring her words not because she was at all drunk (which she wasn't), but because she wasn't used to talking properly. "What d'ya have?"

   Vladimir pulled the needle through his project a few more times before biting off the thread and knotting it securely. "I wouldn't wipe me arse with them rags you wear. They ain't fit fer buryin' a dead dog and they damn sure ain't fit fer wearin'." He grunted, pushing himself to his feet. "Here," he said shortly, tossing the cabin boy the thing he'd been working on- new clothes.
   They were cut from his cloak, which he no longer wore. The loose-fitting tunic and trousers were travel-stained and, admittedly, not the most spectacular garment ever to clothe a human being, but he had washed it beforehand it was was worlds cleaner than what the boy wore already. "Put them on. I 'uhnno they'll fit you jes' right, but it should be close 'nough." He shrugged. Vladimir could remember all too well that, in a time before he could provide for himself, he had to make do with only what he could find. He figured the boy should at least have something to wear. "Yer makin' people sick, dressed like 'at."
   The clothes were loose-fitting, designed for life on board a ship. The sleeveless tunic would breathe well and was easy to move in, but not so loose as to be a hindrance on a busy ship, and was belted with a narrow strip of cloth, with places to hang a dagger or other tools. The leggings were similarly designed, coming up just a bit high (if his estimated measurements were right) around the ankles so as not to get bogged down with water and they laced up at the front. They were forest green, roughly sewed by a hand that spoke of practiced competence, if not any particular beauty.
   "There's a spot thar what to hang yer knife on." He told her, pointing. "So's you can get t' it in a hurry." He continued, fishing about his person for a small bottle of rum he had got his hands on. Uncorking it, he took a long swig and belched loudly. "Well, there ye go." Vladimir said lamely, shrugging and taking another drink.

The pirate's eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, shapes become sharper. He narrowed his eyes at her jab.
Well, she is here, he confirmed  with a small sigh as his eyes trailed over to her room.  His eyes barely made out the curtain, though he imagined her scowl. Sometimes it amazed him how much of a foul mood she could be in. Women.
"A proper 'hello' would have suited," he calmly replied, though wisely decided not to say anything else. Morgan clearly didn't sound like she was in a trifling mood, whatever the case may be, and the pirate didn't wish to further cross her. Especially if she was drunk.

His shoes made dull clank noises as he stepped across the floorboards, the wood once in a while creaking. Chris could feel the ship gently sway under his feet, down below. He carefully carried over the mugs as he knocked on the wood by the curtain, indicating his presence.
"Pardon for intruding," Chris said,  as he cautiously pulled back the curtain.
He gave her a nod of greeting, his brow furrowing slightly. It didn't appear she had any alcohol about her, though looks were deceiving.
She probably hid something, he thought, his eyes causally scanning her room.
A smirk tugged at the rightmost corner of his lips at the sight of the stems in the chest.

"Care for some ale?" Chris asked, displaying the mugs in his hands. Just by the looks of her, the pirate could tell something was off about the first mate, though he dared not pry, yet.

Morgan rolled her eyes and grunted. Chris was right as she was in no mood for witty banter. She raised her arms overhead, ignoring the second mate's presence while she stretched, wincing slightly has shoulders popped before letting them fall dully at her sides.

While she did not uncurl from her compact position she did silently extend one arm, open-handed in a demand for the mug. Who was she to deny a free drink? It just meant she could get more drunk later without as much of the effort to procure more alcohol.

As an afterthought she waved him towards the end of the bed, inviting him to stay if he so desired, although part of her hoped he would leave so that she could finish the bottle currently pressing sharply against her hip. The other part feared being left alone to more dark musings and cursing at the captain's absence.

"Is that all?" she questioned hoarsely, not entirely sure herself if she was referring to the offering or to his reason for coming.

Sky's mouth opened up wide as the eared-man tossed her new clothes. She had been wearing the same thing for years now, turning them into just a handful of rags that barely even fit her. From the second she had gotten on the ship, Sky was hoping for new clothes. And now this kind man, who she hadn't even asked, gave her some out of the blue.

This was one of those moments that Sky was truly glad her body hadn't started maturing yet. She wanted to change as quickly as possible and didn't even want to waste time to find a room to change in. Also, Sky figured that as a 'man' she should be proud and not feel the need to change secretly. Even though the clothes he handed Sky weren't quite like the ones she saw even commoners wearing, she regarded them as clothes for the royal. She took no offense to anything the eared-man said, partially because of the kindness he displayed her and partially because she had heard much worse.

Pulling off her 'shirt', Sky started talking. "Thank you s'much for these!" she started, trying to talk like she wasn't from the streets. But her lack of experience and fact that she was so excited she was talking super quickly made that hard. "I really needed new clothes." Her shirt fully off, Sky pulled the tunic over her head. It was a perfect fit. "I wasn't 'specting to get any, though, 'cause of... Morgan? She seemed awf'ly mean." She fixed the belt so it fit perfectly. "'Scuse me, though, I'm 'fraid I ne'er got your name. Mine's Sky." After a brief pause, she also added, "I'm also 'fraid I don't have a knife. I s'pose I should get one. And when I do, I'll put it in the belt right away!" Sky paused and smiled before continuing her changing.

The tunic was long enough that Sky felt she could pull of her sad excuse for pants without exposing her... lack of masculine parts. After doing so, she put on the tights as quickly as she could, as was quite happy with how they fit. Once again, Sky looked up at the tailed-man and smiled the biggest smile she could manage—but for once, it was genuine.

Hans Recalled now, his first time drinking rum, while looking at the bottle in his hands. It had been after a naval battle way out to sea, many lives were lost, just blood everywhere. It was then when he realized why people called a ship part family, for the blood that runs in their veins, runs through the ships rigging, in her craftsmanship. His father had been trying to calm him down, as it was his first time seeing carnage on such a magnitude, so his father gave him rum. Looking back knowing what he does now, his father should have given him scotch. it would have worked better.

Setting the bottle he was drinking aside, he began to look about the crew. Spotting something in particular. The young boy, the one that he had healed earlier, was changing clothes. Hans didn't really know why his gaze stayed on the boy's back, but he did, and he learned a thing or two because of it. The boy was beginning to show signs of acute malnourishment. Probably, because of what his clothes suggested, he lived on the streets. The other thing Hans learned, is that this boy was actually a girl. Her back gave it away, The angle of her shoulder blades, the curve of her back. Though her body had not begun to take shape, Hans was about ninety-five percent sure, that the cabin boy was indeed a female.

Chris noted that Morgan was behaving rather oddly, even for her drunk self. She sat rigidly against the wall, and her responses more pronounced than usual, though somehow dulled. He sat down by the edge of the bed and took a slow swing from his mug.
   "I was going to ask about matters regarding our course of actions in the morning," he asked. "But now's a bad time, I see. "
Chris frowned. That was a bit daft of him to point out. Of course it was a bad time, she was drunk!  No, there was something else. Something about Morgan told Chris that something was irking her, and that annoyed him. He was the second mate, after all. If there was something wrong that could lead their crew in danger, it was his duty to know!  But what? Chris tried to figure it out in his mind as he drained the rest of his mug, but nothing came to mind. It was an itch he could not be rid of.
          Something is wrong, I just don't know what.
   "I could ask the Captain about matters in the morning," he said, solemnly looking at his empty mug. Chris turned towards Morgan with a questioning glance in his eye.
   "Do you want me to fetch you another?" he asked, quietly.
   

A scowl creased her brows at the mention of the captain. Dark eyes became even stormier as Morgan huffed in disgust and waved a hand in Chris' direction. "Sit," she growled. "He's not here and I am."

The offer of another drink sounded incredibly tempting and truthfully she did desire another. However, it was not in her best interest at the moment to become so intoxicated. In her experience, Morgan found that new crews tended to clash with old members on the last night in port and the first day that monotony set in. Later she could drink in private without her fellow officer's judging eyes counting each bottle and barrel she consumed.

"Discuss!" the quartermaster barked irritably.

"That rather concerns me," Chris replied  to Morgan's remark about the missing captain in a dull fashion, but he never the less sat down.
"I want to know our route, first and foremost," he said, matter of factly. "Also, I'm very interested in how we managed to get crew that are not officially listed. I will not-"
Chris stopped himself. His voice was raising just a little, and he did not want to test Morgan. He sighed.
"Stowaways and those who slipped through regulation could put us in a position I do not wish to be in," Chris continued quietly. He bit his tongue as he grumbled to himself.

He was going nowhere with this. Blast, but why did he have to be such a coward?! Chris took in a breath as he turned to face Morgan. He looked at her square in the eye with his good one.
"There is one more thing," he said, his tone almost gentle. "Morgan, whats wrong? Be true, please."
Chris coughed and grimaced, as if those words were uncomfortable for his tongue to say, and perhaps they were.

   He thought it was funny, when Sky said "She seemed awf'ly mean". Vladimir  snickered into his bottle- which resulted in an explosive coughing fit, apparently, rum would not go down while laughter was coming up. It was because of this choking, gasping mess that the waft of unmistakably feminine nethers went unnoticed by his sharp nose.
   "Vladimir." He wheezed, trying to catch his breath. "You-" He stopped and cleared his throat. "Wot, ye don't even have a knife? How d'you expect to get by? Knife's a right important tool, whelp. 'Ere," he continued, taking a knife in a well-formed sheath from his vest. The knife was about five and a half inches long, single-edged, slightly curved and good Damascus steel, with a razor edge. He had won it in a knife game. "Now run on 'long lad, no more handouts today." He said, tossing the knife to the cabin boy.

Sky was worried when Vladimir started coughing, but he recovered before she could even do anything. Vladimir, she thought. That's a great name... sounds fierce. Sky's name, of course, was not a mean sounding name, but she always liked it. The sky had always reminded her of hope and unlimited potential. He continued talking, and she couldn't help but agree with everything he said. But she didn't have enough money for a knife and the best she could ever find in the streets were thrown out dulled knives from restaurants. Those might have been a little useful for threatening on the streets, but she knew they'd be pointless on a pirate ship.

When Vladimir pulled out a knife, Sky thought he was showing off his. Maybe showing her what kind she should buy. It was a nice knife, she suspected, since it looked sharp and had a good curve to it. She gazed at it in awe, wondering where he got it from. Surely it must have been a top notch weapon store or maybe even from some other pirate shop. So when Vladimir tossed the knife her way, Sky was completely and utterly startled.

But even with the surprise, Sky caught the knife perfectly. She might not have been the best fighter on the streets (at all), but her hand eye coordination was superb. The knife was a little heavier than she suspected, probably because it was steel, but it was still light. However, Sky was not planning on accepting so much charity from one person, no matter how much she wanted to. So she returned her eyes back to Vladimir and was just about to tell him that she could buy her own, but then she saw how he was standing and his expression and she finally processed the last words he had said. She knew that he actually wanted her to keep it and probably wasn't willing to take it back.

Sky immediately straightened up, trying to act a little more dignified, and put the knife in the belt. She put her arms to her side and bowed down so that her chest was near parallel to the ground. It was something she always did when she was extremely grateful to somebody, whether they had helped her escape street thugs or forgave her from stealing from their booth. "Thank you, Vladimir!" Sky said earnestly before standing up straight again. She looked into his eyes, smiled widely once more, and then turned around and ran off like he told her to.

Jack stood perched atop the rigging, just below the crows nest, readying a length of rope. He had spent most of the day studying new, fancy rigging style. He recognized it as a Linemen's set up, called such because on vastly larger ships. The men who tended the lines that raised and lowered the sails were called the line men. Jack was familiar with the set up, it was used on the Kronus Day after they captured a Ship-of-the-Line and named it the new Kronus, sinking the Brig-of-War they had been using. But the set up here was vastly improved from the rigging the Kronus had. There was no way that Chris had come up with it himself. He would have to pester the Kitty about it later.

Tonight was the first night with a new crew, bunch of bow legged green horns is what they were. And there were already whispers among the older crew that one of the newbies might be a Jonah. Superstitious saps. So what do you do to a new crew? You give them something to be inspired by. Jack had plans to do just that. Fastening one end of the rope the mast he then brought the torch out from under his arm and struck it alight using a flint stone and the side of his axe. Since the dockhands of the port were putting out the lanterns around the occupied parts of the docks, by law, the ships had to light their own lanterns. So jack had a little show planned.

Taking a firm grasp of the rope in one hand and the torch in the other, he ran along the sail mast and lept from the edge like a mad man. But there was ample cause to his madness. His angle was very calculated, perfected with vast and numerous practice. The rope snapped tight and he swing towards the first lantern. With precision he stuck the torch to the oiled wick bringing it alight. He shifted his weight to the Sid to swing in a wide arch toward the next lamp. Lighting it and continuing onto the next. In less then a minute all fourteen lamps on the deck were lit and sung back around to the deck, landing with a roll before popping back up to his feet. Grabbing up two mugs of rum, he went below deck. They were both for him. He had a bit of a drinking habit but he didn't see why he couldn't share. So he made his way through the crew quarters to the quartermaster's room. Knocking lightly on the door.

"Ms. Loone? Would you like some rum? It comes Aubrey Approved."

Cane watched the display and shook his head. It was probably meant to inspire or impress the new crew, but in the end it was just a bunch of showing off with considerable risk. One wrong move could spill burning oil to the deck or result in a broken neck. It wasn't that the show wasn't impressive, it was, but it was also unnecessary risk, which on a ship was something he'd always associated with temped fate a little too much. The young man stood after the display still shaking his head as a few of the newer members of the crew oohed and aahed.

Cane grabbed a mug of ale from one swaying crew-member who'd put down a few too many. "Easy friend, you keep this up and you'll drown in grog." He settled the drunken man to the deck, propping his head up and making sure he was laying on his side, in case he vomited. Didn't want anyone drowning in their own spew, that was bad luck on any vessel.

"Cateye if you have questions about our course you ask them of Elias. You know that is not my job but his. As for stowaways there's always bound to be one or two. It is not the end of the world so long as they work hard."

Morgan smiled softly, caught in a memory. She too had been a stowaway long ago aboard her own ship. Despite appearance she did have a soft spot for them, that also meant she was twice as hard on them. She would always look out for them. But in turn she would always expect them to work their hardest. They had to prove themselves and not laze about as they had more to prove than those who were full-grown. A man had made a name for himself, a child still had to learn to grow up.

"If that is all you can go," she declared, raising the empty mug to her lips as she had forgotten that she had already drained it dry moments before. She was glad for her mistake though when she heard Chris' hesitant question. The mug at least delayed her having to answer right away.

Yet, the true saving grace was the sound of a familiar voice coming from the other side of her door. "Ah Aubrey," she cried, a wide smile, lighting up her face though she felt no mirth, only relief at the interruption that would force her to not answer Chris' worried question.

"Drink is always welcome here Aubrey, as is any male company that comes along with it," she jested raising her mug to the door. "Come join Cateye and I. I'm sure we can have fun of some sort of another together."

Chris just stared at the boards on the walls. "Ask Elias" indeed. And that dismissal... Chris pressed his lips together. Of course that wasn't all, he wanted to protest. Clearly something was amiss, but what he couldn't tell because then the blasted door was knocked. The pirate's gaze could have pierced a man's heart as he glared at the door. As Morgan made no attempt to get up, Chris decided to be polite and open it.

"Hello, Jack," he said, greeting his companion stiffly.
In truth he liked Jack very much, though the man's timing was unfortunate. The offering of alcohol in Jack's hands did nothing to improve his mood.
"I see there is none for me," he said dryly. Though there was a hint of judgement in his expression, his voice and gesture carried a hint of playfulness.
Chris stepped aside to allow the man in. He humphed at Morgan's "fun." Clearly whatever he wanted to ask her would have to wait until the next day.
"How do you like the new recruits?" he asked as he shut the door, ever so formal.

Jack's smile widened as the Quartermaster allowed him entry to her quarters, only to have his smile straighten out as she confirmed an unfortunate scenario, the Second Mate was in there with her. His chest expanded with dishevel which then quickly became level as he sighed, accompanied but an inaudible whisper of something profane. Perhaps two somethings. A smile found it's way back on his lips as the door opened before him. Best not to let his two superiors and friends know of his true intentions.

Aubrey met Chris's gaze, unflinching as the Mate was glancing daggers. "If you really thing these two mugs are all I have on my person than we need to hang out more as you clearly don't know me." Balancing one mug of rum atop the other with practiced grace, Aubrey pulled a flask from his inside pant pocket. it were a glass flask wrapped in leather and had what appeared to be tribal markings across the skin of the leather. "Got it when we last made port in Thanatos, just add water and within the hour it is a mighty strong spirit. Careful friend sometimes the nice sprite could just end up being quite the scary monster." He passed the flask to Chris with a warning, "Just don't tell Ialu about it, he had been eyeing it but had to go get a supply of shot for the cannons. Lets just say I got to it before he could get back." He passed a mug of the rum to Morgan then took a sip of the other that he had brought for himself.

Sure, he had that flask which offered him a near endless supply of amazing alcohol, but Aubrey like variety. Plus Rum just makes you feel good. Taking a look at Morgan, his smile actually felt genuine. He had a thing for her, which obvious to many of the crew. But the question was, did she have a thing for him? for anyone? One could never tell with the Quartermaster. "Morgan, you've been scowling too hard today, there are creases in your forehead and is that a bruise on yer palm there? Guess it was a good thing that your sword can't be strangled to death. Maybe you should go see the new Doctor, or on second thought drink up. The bruise should go away in a few days."

Jack was well aware of the events of the day, and was mainly just teasing Morgan, which for anyone, is rather much akin to pissing on a thunder elemental, that is to say, probably not the best of ideas. But they were in the privacy of her cabin, Jack would never dare joke like that in broad daylight in front of the eyes of the crew. It were two entirely different matter.

"Speaking of the new crew, the doctor in particular. Some of the older crew think that there may be a Jonah among them. Some of the men noticed that the capt'n has yet to return and they think it's an omen, that an word came that the Argus approaches from the south. Should be making land at port here by midafternoon. I should suggest we leave by midmorning. That is not to say that I'm expecting a battle. The Capt'n of the Argus is a patz, it's the moral of the crew I'm worried about. especially with so many greenhorns about. The Argus is a warship after all."

Sky watched as awe as some man swung around on a rope. He lit a bunch of lanterns, as if he were an angel giving life to cold hearted things. He looked like he was flying... though she was pretty sure he wasn't. Then again, magic could do strange things. Flying, Sky decided, would be a cool trick to learn—magic or not. And maybe he could teach her how to do that. With her eyes wide, she decided that would be her new goal for now. To get him to teach her. So when he got from the sky, she quickly scurried to follow him.

But then, when she was still twenty feet away from him, he entered a room.

The door closed and she wondered if she should still follow him. Glancing around, she walked up to the door. After all, she had nothing better to do, So Sky opened the door wide and walked right in before noticing what seemed to be an intense and important mood. While the flying guy might be in the room, so were the scary girl and the strange guy who gave the scary girl flowers.

Not knowing what else to do, Sky just stood there with a wide, innocent, and goofy grin on her face. She always used that look when she got into trouble (unless she thought tears would work better) but, given the people in this room, she doubted it would do her much good.

Morgan looked from mug to flask and back again with jealousy. Grudgingly she accepted the rum from Jack but her eyes still glared Chris down with a desire for what he clutched within his hands. "Since when does superior officer of the room get the lesser of two choices, Aubrey? Are you trying to say something here," she asked with raised brow and gruff tone.

The act became much more than that though the moment the day's events had been mentioned. Her brows furrowed more and she rubbed absentmindedly at any wrinkles that could be forming. "You watch your tongue boy or I'll see about strangling you. I want no mention of that confounded quack in my quarters, you hear?"

She huffed, draining her mug in a matter of seconds, emphasizing her distaste. "To hell with the Argus! They ain't anything we can't handle. As for the greenies they could do with a bit of shaking up. I don't want any cocky bastards aboard this ship." Morgan lowered her voice, eying Jack from the corner of her eye, "have enough of those already.

"You know the captain anyway he likes to make a," she was cut off by the sound of her door opening and a petite figure entering, "entrance."

Angered at the intrusion and further infuriated by the mischievous grinning of the stowaway. Morgan was shakily on her feet in the slow, prowling manner of newborn cat. Her hidden bottle of alcohol forgotten and hands reached out to grip the wall, the quartermaster glared down the pipsqueak.

"Are you on fire? Is someone trying to kill you? Are you bleeding out of your eyes? No? Then what the devil's gotten into you boy that you decided it was alright to march into my private quarters?!" she yelled her voice crescendoing with each set of questions.

Lunging forward, the piratess latched onto the boy's ear and began to lead him out by it. She stormed them right up to the main deck, fire in her eyes and alcohol in her belly making her ready to start a fight with the next person to piss her off.

Chris thinly smiled at Aubrey's magicked flask, his good eye sparkling with interest. Still, part of him was wary of the trifle.
"Indeed?" he replied,  eyeing the thing. He wished he had time to examine the flask more. What if it had dangerous properties? Part of Chris doubted that, and he had to suppress the urge to 'confiscate' the thing.

The pirate smirked at Aubrey's check. He knew the man was teasing, and Aubrey was friend enough to tease in such a way. Plus, it amused Chris to see Morgan so vexed.
"So long as my ropes remain untouched," he said with a loose grin.

However, Chris'  expression turned somber at the mention of the Argus. They were a formidable enemy, one the crew had to be cautious of. It was true, also, that those new might easily be inclined to leave, least they lose their lives for a crew they barely know.

Before Chris could offer his advice, a small figure stumbled in the door. The man took in a sharp breath and quickly stepped out of the way, least the vexed Morgan tripped on his boots. He waited a proper ten paces, counting them as the heels of her boots clicked against the wooden floors. His good eye glanced over towards the bed, where Morgan had been hiding a wine bottle, and towards the drawers, where a piece of  paper stuck out. 

"Well, let's go," he told Aubrey as calm as ever before quickly making his way up towards the deck.

The party's mood had shifted. At the sight of their furious First Mate, the fiddler stopped his music and the dancing and drunk pirates gawked at their superior officers and the poor cabin boy. Chris idly waved his hand towards the musicians. No need to cause an extra scene.
"Play 'The Mariner's Jig," he requested, always peculiar for the classics. The fiddlers nervously obliged.

Chris turned his attention back to Sky.
"Morgan, allow me to handle the lad," he offered as he looked down at the child.
"Boy, straighten yourself up," he demanded. "Explain what happened, and for your sake, keep it brief."

Sky's eyed widened in horror as she saw the furiousness spread across the scary lady's face. It must have looked to others as if she shrunk as the mean lady kept yelling at her, because that's what it felt like to Sky. She had never been so scared by a person who wasn't actually threatening her life before.

And then with speed quicker than Sky would ever have expected from some lady so bulky looking, she was being led out by her ear. She raised her hands to her hurting ear before lowering them again, deciding to try to ignore the pain to seem stronger. She wasn't really sure if she was supposed to respond to Morgan's question or not, but it didn't really matter since Sky's voice wouldn't come out, anyway.

She was saved, however, when the strange man took control of the situation. Or brave man. Since he stood up against the mean girl... who he had given flowers to. Sky decided to stick with the title of strange man. Sky did as he said, straightening herself up as if she was a soldier. Normally she would've replied "Yes sir!" but it didn't seem fitting given the mood of the place.

Her voice barely trembling, Sky replied, "I was fol'wing the flyin' man." She pointed towards him. "I hoped he'd teach me the trick. Af'er all, it only makes sense for a boy named Sky to learn to fly!" She offered the strange man a feeble smile full of hope.

Morgan wasn't lying when she said that they could take the Argus, given the blessings of the sea gods of wind and surf, as well as proper prep time and a fair amount of luck. So just like any sea battle really. But perhaps it wasn't the best time to mention that to the Quartermaster, especially with her dragging some unlucky little urchin by the ear. While waiting the required paces, he noticed a bulge in her bedding. Slinking up to it, he lifted her mat to see the bottle of wine. "to answer her question, The second highest ranking officer in a room gets the better of two alcohols when the highest already has the best of the bleeding ship," He muttered, pointing out the the bottle to Chris ,"come on, lets go make sure we don't have to do a water burial before we even leave port."

When pointed at by the cabin boy, Aubrey had been simply enjoying that classical sea shanty, but it seemed that the Flying man had some kid to set straight. Walking to stand beside Chris, he squat to the kids level. "Your name is Sky, yes? And by that reasoning you think you should learn how to 'fly', no?" His voice was calm, and soft, albeit of the conditioned hoarseness of many years a sea breathing in the much salted air and the many many tonne of alcohol consumed over the years. "When I think of the sky, I tend not to think of it flying. I think of som'thin' that is always there, weather or not if you see it. It offers a warning, be it storms or an enemy or anything, and the Sky is ever aware of everything. Do you understand? Forget about flying. You are a cabin boy, not a rigger, if you are even looking up there, is should be to look past the rigging and towards you namesake."

Aubrey wasn't exactly mean. But he wasn't nice either, there was a discussion that popped up from time to time on weather or not Aubrey could make an insult seem like a compliment, or vice versa. He had proven the theory right on many occasion.

   Giving a grunt and a noncommittal wave of his hand (which Sky did not see, as she had bolted), Vladimir watched her owlishly as she bolted away- and then suddenly was aware of a presence rushing in. With a startled, half-slurred drunken oath he dropped to a crouch, his hand flying to his machete, to find that it was merely a crewman swinging around and lighting torches like an Essyrian circus dancer. "Bleedin' showoff." He griped under his breath, blowing out a sigh and letting his muscles uncoil. Sudden movements, and especially the unexpected kind, tend to make one nervous in a life of vagrancy.
   Still, he had to admit it was damned impressive, and miles above and circus show he had seen, so with a shrug and a last draught of the rum bottle (now disappointingly empty) he was on his way to whatever would occupy his time next. Maybe he would play his guitar! Although, much to his disappointment, several music men were already making merry upon the ship. 'Walp!' he thought to himself, 'problems don't solve 'emselves'.
   And so it was that he found himself strumming along to a shanty tried and true, if a trifle overdone, and upon the end of the song caught the leading man round the shoulders, for he had an urge for a bawdier tale.
   "We'rr playin' 'Six Clean Lin'uns' next," Vladimir informed the man with eyes slightly unfocused and rum strong on his breath, "An' no sayin' oth'rwise from you, aye?" He added seeing a look of hesitation or confusion (or perhaps distaste) on the man's face. Whether it was his yellowed eyes glinting in the torchlight, his beast-like visage or the subtle hint of violence in his voice that convinced the man remains a mystery, but they at once broke out into a lively fluttering sort of tune, the kind a wench could easily dance atop tables to, for there usually was a buxom, dancing wench or two about the type of places where this song was well-received.
   The song, as any who do a good amount of carousing know, was about a woman in the slums trying for a life in the brothels, but with a problem- she had seven potential "suitors", but only six clean sets of undergarments to wear. The rough humor and bawdy appeal of the song was borne of her attempts to entertain all her customers while keeping at least one linen shift clean. A bold, and truth be told somewhat crude tale, but it was often well-applauded among sailors and military men.

Sky heard new music break out in the background, but paid no attention to it. She wouldn't have understood it, anyway. Instead, she focused on the Flying Man in front of her and the words he preached. She nodded as he restated what she had previously said, not catching onto the fact that he was going to contradict her seconds later.

But when he did contradict her, she grinned. His logic was so wrong! "Nah!" she exclaimed. "Well, yeah! But can't I be more aware of everything if I'm higher up? I dun know how to rig, though. I dun quite know what rigging is. But I wanna fly!" She paused and then foolishly added, "And if I can fly, maybeh I wone fall when I mop!"

She looked around at the people surrounding her and her smile faded away. She probably shouldn't have dismissed what he said so quickly. After all, even Sky knew that he had to have a higher position then her. "Oops," she muttered. But she didn't apologize—it wasn't like she was wrong, after all.

Aubrey could handle many things, fighting, bickering, constant complaining, bad food, scurvy, stowaways, lack of rum, death of comrades, horrid officers, the list just goes on and on. But there is one thing that Aubrey could not stand, from anyone, be it some lowly little sea urchin or the God King himself. He shot a quick glance to Morgan and Chris, it read 'if I must pay for this later, I will'.

Aubrey's hand shot out quick as a whip, striking the boy across the face with the back of his hand. With his other hand he snagged the boy by the back of the neck and drug him to the starboard side railing. At night the water looked cold and dark. A black liquid death. By now the music had stopped and the older crew watched in almost sympathy, Aubrey was not an angry man, he was just a man who had seen too much at sea and so he bore a burden of knowledge. Aubrey was a man that new the signs that told of the signs of a squall, and a man that had seen much tragedy at the hands of a slacker.

His voice held none of the softness of tone that it did before. "Do you see the water? Do you know what this is? This is the final resting place of anyone who dies at sea, paying for the sins of those who had the AUDACITY TO DECIDE THAT THEY HAD THE RIGHT TO QUESTION TO DO IT! DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?" Aubrey rather roughly moved the boy's head to get a clear view of the ocean. "This water is a goddamn cemetery. Here there is no gravestone, no way to remember, nothing to remind you of who they were, and not a god damned thing you can say to anyone who knew them other than 'I'm sorry'. Here is where yours and ever other seafaring soul on her will lay their mistakes to rest. Enjoy the view. May never see it from the bottom up."

With that, Aubrey let go of the boy and left to his hammock below deck.

The quartermaster did not take kindly to her reprimanding-to-be being interrupted. The second mate was only lucky that he was nearly equal to her in their ship's hierarchy. That alone saved him from being knocked flat on his rear in front of all the crew. She decided to make a mental note to have a discussion with him once they were alone and she could lay into him like there was no tomorrow.

With the cabin boy now off the hook, Morgan was free to peruse the rest of the crew. What she found though did nothing to soothe her ruffled feathers. Must they be so loud and boisterous? And what was Aubrey screeching about now? Was the whole bloody crew losing their minds? Did they not know there needed to be a sense of order? What would the captain say when he saw this? He would have her hide certainly for letting things spiral so far out of control.

What Morgan needed was a good brawl to get the blood flowing and the crew settling. She was in charge here and she would be damned if she was going to let the young pups do whatever they wanted without consequence. They were about to learn just how serious it was to obey the ship's second-in-command.

Turning to the closest sailor to her, which turned out to be the lupine deck-swabber she had at some point named "Puppy," and swung her fist with all her might, drunkenly expecting to make contact with flesh and bone. There was no knowing just how fast or slow her reflexes were considering the amount of the alcohol she had secretly and openly imbibed within her quarters. But, things were certainly about to get interesting now.

   Upon finishing the song and throwing his arms in the air flamboyantly, Vladimir and his impromptu troupe was met with cheers and boisterous laughter. He himself laughed in the spirit of it all, and noticing a figure steping near, by the scent of it a female figure, he turned to welcome what he dared hope was a bonnie winsome wench, and instead had a split-second to focus his half-drunken eyes on the fist hurtling towards his face with concussive force. Then there was pain, a blinding light blossomed suddenly between and behind his eyes and there was a ringing, he felt the back of his head connect with the deck before he realized he had been hit. His vision swam back into focus and he saw the face of the quartermaster- the bitch had laid him out flat on his back! His already crooked nose had been broken for the second time that night.
   With a whoop and a laugh, he flung his knees up and over, throwing his weight further backwards until he rolled to his feet. "Ya-hey! Love a wench what's got some fight inn'er!" He laughed, before stepping forward and throwing a punch of his own. This night just seemed to get better and better! Though already having been fighting, rolling around in bed and drinking liberally, the fight truthfully did not look good for him.

Chris watched in bafflement Aubrey's burst at the lad.
So much energy for a small task, he thought with disapproval. The lad was dim witted, that Chris was certain of, but he needed the child able bodied and not crouching in a corner fearing constantly for his life. He took quick strides towards the two, passing by bemused sailors. He stood a pace away from the second mate with his hands clasped behind his back.
"That will do. Thank you, Aubrey, you made your point quite clear," Chris said in a composed manner, rocking on his heels.
He turned his attention towards the boy, his brow narrowing. 
How do I do this? he thought in dismay.
"If you want to fly, I suggest you hire a mage to craft you a pair of wings. Unfortunately we have none with such talents aboard our ship," he said with dry humor. A couple sailors laughed loudly at the joke.
"We can always kidnap one, aye!" a sailor jabbed. Chris ignored his drunkard ramblings.
Please don't give the boy any ideas.
"Until then, tie your shoes if you don't want to trip and tie yourself to the rails when scraping barnicles. You'll be doing that tomorrow, bright and early. Understand?"

Loud shouts and hooting drew Chris' attention away. His jaw dropped slightly as he turned around in time to watch Vladimir put his weight into a punch meant for Morgan.
"Excuse me," he mutttered as he pushed his way through the crowd surrounding the fight. Though brawls were a common part of pirate life, fights on deck, unless for training purposes, were prohibited.
There will be order on this ship, one way or another!
"Enough!" Chris growled as he reached for Morgan as he tried to position himself between the two. Some of the onlookers boo-ed.
"Oi! Let 'em have a go!" one cried.
Chris had never so badly wanted to tell someone to shut up... that week, anyway.

Morgan growled angrily. She was no innocent to such talk as his. Many had come before him with similar words and she highly doubted he would be the last. While she was able to side-step his blow enough to save her face, a dull pain erupted in her shoulder where his punch landed moments before Chris attempted to step between the two of them.

While the rational part of her mind told her this needed to stop, the number and hurt part raged against the rational and beat it down at the same time her her crashed into Chris' nose. Later she would claim she missed and swung blindly, but Morgan knew full well who that punch was aimed for and she had yet to miss even as she heard a pop and a clunk like hitting the deck.

The Flying Man's long lecture went in one of Sky's ears and out the other. The seriousness of what he was saying was important, she knew, but none of it was new information to her. It didn't frighten her—it was just what she was expecting. She didn't sneak onto the pirate ship to gain a family or recognition, after all. She sneaked on so that she could move somewhere else where she would be able to get those things.

After living on the streets her whole life, she knew about the idea of no life after death. There was no one to remember her, no one to mourn for her, no one to even know she was missing. So while the Flying Man himself may have frightened Sky enough that she stayed silent, the words he spoke had little meaning to her.

The Strange Man came up and talked to her, clearly trying to cheer her up. The effort, if nothing else, was appreciated. She grinned carelessly back at him before he disappeared into a fight that seemed to have broken out. Sky looked at the Scary Woman and decided that she would do her best to avoid her... always.

Chris shouted as Morgan's fist hit his face with a loud crack and an awful, squishing noise that was followed by the awful sensation of something slipping out of a tight spot. A sailor caught the second mate before he sprawled to the ground. His head still spinning, Chris awkwardly pushed himself away, panting as he tried to stop the blood spilling from his nose. He growled as he swayed. He wanted to give Morgan a damned piece of his mind, but more importantly,  his right eye socket was feeling awfully cold.

With a loud clunk his glass eye hit the deck and rolled along down the surface.
"Someone grab it!" he barked as he stumbled after his eye.

Sky gasped as she noticed the Strange Man's eye was missing. He looked so... odd. Her eyes quickly caught ahold of the shimmering light reflecting off of the glass eye, and she turned to run after it. Being the closest, it should have been an easy task.

She sprinted and picked up the eye with little trouble. But as she was turning around her head to smile with pride, she failed to notice that there was an obstruction in her path.

The obstruction, as fate would have it, was the mop bucket that she had left out on the deck so many hours earlier. She ran straight into it and fell harshly against the side of the ship. Sky let out a sigh of relief... the thought of falling overboard had occupied her thoughts during the trip. But the relief quickly vanished as she realized that her hand was empty and that there was now a little glass eye floating and being pushed away by the waves.

OOC: It's hollow, so it wont sink :)
IC:

An ugly choking noise escaped Chris' throat.
My eye, he thought, his jaw slack.
He hopelessly watched as Sky dropped the precious thing and it plopped into the water.
"Idiot child! What have you done?!" he said hoarsely as he ran to the rail.
His shoulders relaxed at the sight of the glass eye bobbing in the water, sparkling by the candle light of the ship.

Okay, thought Chris, all we have to do is fish it out of the water...
But just then, Chris heard a splash. His heart sank as a fish emerged from the water, a catfish, and swallowed the eye whole. Chris grasped the railings of his ship, a broken man, his knuckles white and slippery with blood. He stared at the catfish, his mind blank.

A drunken brawl was something Hrafn had not been expecting to walk into his first day on the Reaper's Chalice. As much of him that wanted to join in the raucous, the Sionhai sailor had the better judgement to not to; his experience on other vessels with drunken fights were pretty rough and usually ended with reprimand. So with a sigh and slight chuckle, he found a stool off in the corner, away from the action. Why do I seem to show up at the wrong times?

Cane watched slightly amused by the goings on. He felt bad for the fellow losing his eye, but, he also felt bad for the young lass he was yelling at.  Of course it didn't seem like anyone else had noticed that the child was a girl, and he wasn't one to tattle. He shook his head. He pulled out his fishing pole and held it out to the man. "You could try and catch it. Catfish are good eating so we won't waste anything. Although my mother always said a man with an eyepatch is quite dashing."

((my girlfriend and my mother both say the same thing xp soemtimes makes me wish I had a missing eye))

The shouts and cries of a fight drifted down to the dock below, and gave Elias pause as he stood beside the gangplank. What on earth was going on? He frowned slightly, brow furrowed as running footsteps reverberated through the wood next to him. It sounded like a true ruckus, the type that he would normally turn tail and stroll away from, preferring to keep out of the way until the tempers had cooled and the fists stopped flying. Contemplating this now, he rubbed at the back of his neck in thought, then winced.

The skin was burnt a deep pink from sitting outside all day, and was still sore to the touch. It wouldn't begin healing into a tan for some days yet, he knew, and he cursed himself for forgetting about the fierce glare of the sun as he had sat and read.

Not that anyone would be able to see it in this light anyway - or so he hoped. Actually, he had hoped that the ship would be much quieter than this by now, and that he could slip on and into his quarters under the cover of darkness. He had been gone many hours since Chris had originally dragged him to the subscription table, and he had a feeling that people would have noticed, and would have questions to ask.

"Damn," he muttered, setting foot on the gangplank. It didn't look like a subtle arrival was in the cards tonight.

As he reached the deck, he stopped short in amazement. There was Chris, face covered in blood and with an extra hole where his eye used to be, rushing to the railing. Morgan nearby, looking furious. And plenty of the new recruits standing around helplessly - some he recognised, some entirely unknown.

He stood alongside nearest body, a man who held out a fishing rod, and asked of anyone who would listen, "What the hell's happening here?"

   Vladimir couldn't help but crack a grin at the squelching sound and the sight of the second mate scuttling after his glass eyeball. Hooking his toes under the bridge of his guitar where it lay on the ground, he kicked it up and out towards Morgan's facewith a "hold 'at fer me." It was a cheap shot; but he was, after all, a pirate, and a wicked idea had blossomed in his deviant little mind.
   "Wha's 'amatter, then? Go on in afft'r it!" He cried jovially, leaping towards the man and planting a foot squarely on his behind. With a shove and a shout, over the rail went Cat-eye into the harbor. The catfish (as fish often will) found the whole thing to be quite too much to handle and bolted. "Wha's wrong, Cat-eye? Kitty-kitty-kitty afraid'a the water?" He laughed raucously and turned to someone familiar- he had been at the table! The man seemed confused as to the goings-on of a brawl, and so answering his question with a simple "This!" Vladimir launched a fist right towards his face.

Sky flipped towards to the now eye-less man with a gaped mouth. "But I can't swim!" she declared in fright. He wasn't going to throw her overboard, was he?!

Luckily, it seemed like that wasn't going to be her fate but rather his. The man that made this mistake smelled like booze, so Sky quickly backed away. She didn't want to go over, too. But, even still, hopefully the eye-less man could swim... and she wouldn't get a flogging.

OOC: OH gosh this is so long over due i apologize X_X
IC:

The cold hit Chris like a shock. He was surrounded by silence for a moment before he kicked up to the surface of the water, gasping for air. He narrowed his good eye viciously on the yelling and whooping people on deck. He growled at Vladimer's taunts and brushed back the hair sticking to his forehead.
I'll lash him for that.

A splash in the water distracted him, just a yard or so away from where he had landed.  Skirting across the water was the catfish, before it dived.  Chris could feel the energy of his glass eye pulling at him, but swimming in the ocean like this was no use.  Waters were too dark, too dangerous. 
"OI MR. URABI!" he shouted, calling the attention of a startled young sailor. The boy was of a dusky complexion with a curious pattern of stripes on his shoulders and back. The sailor did not need to ask what was going on. He ripped off his shirt and dove into the waters, his body transforming into that of a shark.

Chris grabbed hold onto his dorsal fin as Urabi darted after the catfish.  Chris held his breath during the entire chase, feeling the pressure of the ocean around him.  AT the moment Chris felt he was about to pass out, they suddenly reemerged from the surface. His head swimming, Chris patted the side of the shark's face.

"You better not have swallowed it, boy," he sputtered, wiping the salt from his eyes. 
The shark opened its mouth to reveal a dying catfish, parts of its body punctured by rows of shark teeth. careful not to hurt himself, Chris reached in and yanked the fish out.
"Thank you," he told his ship mate with utmost sincerity. He looked up at the deck at the rows of cheering men.
"Celebrate after you throw some bloody ropes over!" he shouted up at deck as Urabi transformed back into a man.

Cane was thr first to respond to the call for ropes, having grabbed a knotted length used for just that purpose as soon as he'd realized what the drunkard was going to do. "Here sir."

Cane tied the rope off  and prepared to haul the two out. He was a scrawny thing but his body was corded with strong muscle. The result of hauling sailing lines and heavy fishing nets. He could pull a single man out at a time but hoped that others would help pull the two men up at the same time to reduce the risk of some drowning, however unlikely it was.

It would not be entirely wrong to say Morgan had not known whom she was striking once she had made contact. She certainly felt no regret over it; it served Chris right for interfering with her fight, not of course she would say that to his face.

She recoiled as the bucket of filthy water splashed into her face and she cast it to the side. Now angry and wet, the Quartermaster stomped after the wayward crew member, fire flashing in her eyes. Morgan was just in time to see the fist headed for Elias right before her own sneaked under Vladmir's unwary gaze to catch him in an uppercut.

"Think you're funny do you?" Morgan hissed at him, already moving to punch him again.