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Post by Hammett on Jan 23, 2020 18:44:19 GMT
"I'll try not to. But if I am delayed, or the closing moves quicker then we think, just get out of here. I can trump to you later."
With that Hammett watches Brennon and the prisoner take the first launch to Brennon's waiting ship, then turns his attention to the launch coming to get him.
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Post by Admin on Jan 25, 2020 11:30:41 GMT
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Post by Admin on Jan 25, 2020 11:32:26 GMT
[[OOC: Brennon where would you like the launch to take you?]]
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Post by Brennon on Jan 25, 2020 17:33:29 GMT
[ooc: As I said, to his ship across the harbor. There's plenty of room in his brig.]
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Post by Admin on Jan 27, 2020 5:21:41 GMT
Gerard's men row the way across the harbour and have worked up a heavy sweat by the time they get close to the Lady.
"Prince Gerard's orders; helps to keep the men in shape," the lieutenant commanding the launch says.
The crew on his ship sight Brennon and give their signals. What is your status? Commands?
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Post by Brennon on Jan 28, 2020 15:36:48 GMT
Brennon's crew are all seasoned veterans. Captain Brennon stands up in the fore of the boat, his position making it clear that it is the Captain's launch, whatever ship it hailed from.
Celessia gives a shiver from her prow to her stern, and a few whistles sound the watch from the carved birds along her rails. Lines and sheets tighten, some even without her crew touching them. Crewmen begin to tumble up from belowdecks, having been awakened by the shudder, and alerted to the Captain's imminent official arrival by the tweets. Celessia might not be a military ship, but she was a predator, and she knew her Captain's mind any time she chose to look. Prince Admiral Gerard's men wouldn't be able to fault her crew's discipline, even if the deck was a few days from its last scrubbing and there were a few suspicious covered cargos cluttering it. As the launch approached within hailing distance, there might have been a slight extra curve to the figurehead's smiling coral lips, and there might have been a slight sliding of her large grey eyes towards Brennon's face as he stood, waiting to be piped aboard.
Once on deck, Brennon begins giving the actual orders. "Run up the blue Peter," is the first one, signalling all ashore that Celessia was preparing to make sail. "Charla, run this man down to the brig. He's determined, and dangerous. We'll see if the ship can find out what he's hiding about his masters," he says to the midshipman of the watch. As soon as she takes the conductor from him, he has more orders, about cargo, about making ready to sail, getting a guest cabin ready for Hammett, and so on.
Once all the immediate news and plans have been exchanged, Brennon moves forwards to the bowsprit and lays a hand on the red-honey hair mass of the figurehead. It's warmer than it should have been, for how much sun it's received today, and mixes the textures of fine wood grain and corn silk. Her hair gives a bit under his hand as her frozen 'in port' pose cannot completely remain still when manipulated. "Hey, beauty," he says softly to her. "I'm back. I don't think I like trains much. Hammett will be coming aboard, and we'll be leaving this place." He proceeds to fill her in quietly about his latest adventure. When he's done, one last thought comes to him as the ship quietens, going 'dead' to his touch and putting up her defenses against all magical interference.
Hammett. He's not going to be able to trump me.
Brennon pens a note and sends it off with a dock rat to Wormwood's.
Hammett, I have engaged Celessia's defenses against magical interference. Having done this, I realize now that to activate a trump through this field would be impossible. Therefore, I implore you to make haste. If I must sail without you, I will lower the defenses and attempt to contact you once daily to check up on things. Cpt. Brennon.
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Post by Admin on Feb 6, 2020 6:23:21 GMT
The Conductor is still in a daze when brought aboard the ship. He mutters a few things about trains and the rail grade north of Marrakesh before ending with a random sequence of letters and numbers that might indicate scheduled stops and times of the Express.
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Post by Admin on Feb 9, 2020 2:05:41 GMT
The messenger returns to the Celessia and calls for Brennon.
"Mister Hammett! Mister Hammett was arrested by the gendarmes!" he yells. "And there's been a fire and everything!"
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Post by Admin on Feb 18, 2020 8:47:15 GMT
#s://i~ibb~co/SXpkXBr/flapper~jpg Shortly after the messenger's reply, another character comes onto the dock next to the Celessia. "Say, look at at this boat! A bird's gotta have alotta scratch to afford dis! Pinky says running her hand along the hull. "Zat Cap' Brennon aboard?" she yells, "I got a message from that bird Hammett. Ya wana hear it out here or on board?"
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Post by Brennon on Feb 18, 2020 20:42:21 GMT
Brennon slowly stretches from where he's been napping in the arm of his ship's figurehead as Pinky's news reaches him. The return of the previous messenger had been taken care of by the crew, who recognized the signs of Brennon's pain and sleepless night and had hushed the lad quickly. The compliment to the ship, however, brought Celessia's attention to the woman, and thus disturbed her Captain's rest. Pinky finds herself somehow meeting the direct gaze of the figurehead, with grey eyes that seem far more alive than any ship's should be, and a touch of pleased humor.
"Come on up," Brennon mumbles, sitting up and readjusting his tricorne hat on his head. He clears his throat and looks around, seeming to realize for the first time that he is standing over open water, the small balcony under the figurehead off to one side of him, the bowsprit behind Celessia's statuesque, oversized back.
Giving a kiss to the figurehead's cheek, Brennon hops up to sit on her shoulder with a bit of subtle roll from the figurehead, then as he swings his legs over to slide to the deck, he calls back in a steadier voice, "Come on up! Fire, arrest, what's the news? Did he get my message?"
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Post by Admin on Feb 21, 2020 2:48:04 GMT
#s://i~ibb~co/SXpkXBr/flapper~jpg Pinky steps lively up the gangplank to the deck of Celessia and looks about wide-eyed. "Jiminy! Dis ships' da bees knees! Dat Hammett only brings us 'round in leakin' junk but you travel in style." She bats her eyes and runs one finger along the ship's railing.
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Post by Brennon on Feb 21, 2020 20:52:16 GMT
"This ship is my livelihood, as the bar is Hammett's," Brennon answers her, reaching out to shake Pinky's hand as she comes aboard. "You wouldn't expect him to run a craps game out of a sewer, would you? No more I would run the fastest smuggler and privateer's coursing from a fishing junk. Let's talk in my cabin."
He leads her aft and belowdecks, to where his quarters sit, the dining room bright with the panelled wall of cathedral windows across the stern of the ship, sailors fitting protective shutters over the panels as they enter.
Ignoring the chairs, Brennon hops up to sit on the end of the table and gestures for Pinky to make herself comfortable. Almost before she can do more than look around, a furred youth with a feline face and tail brings in a tray with a bottle of brandy and two short glasses, setting it on the table next to Brennon in the style of Wormwood's own serving staff before disappearing on silent, unshod paws. (Assuming Pinky doesn't try to stop them, of course.) The glasses bear Wormwood's logo on them, but haven't been in use in the bar for several years.
Brennon pours two drinks and says, "Well, then. What message did your mas- did your boss send you with?"
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Post by Admin on Feb 25, 2020 5:54:30 GMT
#s://i~ibb~co/SXpkXBr/flapper~jpg Pinky manages to tear her eyes away from Brennon long enough to look at the bottle. "Say, that's some nice hooch you're servin' me. But are you sure you're supposed to be holdin' on to those glasses? Hamm has an odd sentimental streak fer odd things like his glassware. Ah, to hell with it!" she picks up the glass, tips it a little as a toast then throws it down her throat in one gulp. "Woof, dat is the potent stuff. Hit me with another."
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Post by Brennon on Feb 25, 2020 6:55:11 GMT
"Won them in a bet. Did you ever see the giant turtle shell bathtub Hammett got, a few years back?"
Brennon swirls his brandy and downs half of it, then takes Pinky's glass and refills it. Instead of giving it to her or setting the glass down, however, he sets the brandy inside it swirling into a little whirlpool.
"Now, what's the message, before ye get seconds?"
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Post by Admin on Feb 26, 2020 7:01:22 GMT
#s://i~ibb~co/SXpkXBr/flapper~jpg "See hammett's bathtub?! A girl can dream!" she says before stopping in embarrassment. "Ehh, the message was somethin'.... somethin' about....Oh, yeah! Someone torched the clubhouse and now da city is all wizzy. Hammett's been snatched by the fuzz an dey put him in the hoosegow. He says ya shouldn't worry about him but keep eyes peeled on dis ship here incase any punks come round throwin' lead. Savvy?" She stares at the glass of liquor.
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