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Post by Brennon on Jul 25, 2020 15:22:19 GMT
"Oh, aye.. it's fine.." Brennon says as they walk along. "It's more a case of- have you seen those jugglers that balance plates on the ends of long sticks?" He pauses a moment for Hammett to get the image in his mind. "It's a bit like that. But someone has put teacups on top of the saucers I'm balancing, and they're trying to pour tea in them! We're right enough now, but I've an eye to the future, and it worries me. I hope whatever bastard's doing it has their tea and leaves off for a while. Rather than the other option."
[ooc: should I post them actually arriving at the ship, or is the GM going to interfere?]
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Post by Hammett on Jul 26, 2020 9:17:29 GMT
Hammett sighs in agreement, as they reach the ship, "Oh, I know the feeling well these days. I'd need three of me to accomplish half of what I need to do over the next little bit."
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Post by Admin on Jul 29, 2020 3:05:57 GMT
[OOC: No interruption from me. You are clear to walk back to the ship]
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Post by Brennon on Jul 29, 2020 20:01:13 GMT
As Brennon and Hammett approach the Celessia's gangplank, a twittering, birdlike call starts up from the deck of the ship- the notes that say a Captain is coming aboard. At the top of the ramp, Hammett can see that the sound comes not from any normal musician, but from dozens of songbirds carved, elven fashion, into the guard rails of the ship herself. They are coloured as if alive, browns and greys and the subtle flashes of brighter hues. The colouring, so detailed, is probably paint. Probably. At the same time, all mental and magical pressure from outside the ship vanishes.
Celessia's deck is in the middle of taking on stores and other uses, but the dust and grime is certainly no more than a day old. Brennon may be a freebooter, but he obviously uses military precision and discipline, an odd trait when a freebooter Captain is usually elected by majority consensus. A tall man with silver hair in a complicated braid down to his waist turns as Brennon sets foot on Celessia's deck. He is very tall, well over seven feet, wiry instead of muscular, and his face is seamed with the weather of a thousand voyages. If it weren't for his apparent age, and that he is very clearly an elf from somewhere much like middle-earth, one could imagine Benedict to be his brother. He wears the compasses of a ships's carpenter, not the badge of a high-ranking officer, but his position in the flurry of ship's activity puts him in charge. If he is really the ship's carpenter, it's no wonder the ship looks like it could have come from Lothlorien, or some other elvenhome.
"Captain on deck!" he shouts, and every man and woman aboard turns to salute, except two men in the high tops of the rigging. Brennon returns the salute, and calls out, "Carry on," without breaking his stride.
Hammett's first step onto Celessia's deck doesn't ring with the sound of boot or shoe on hollow wood, but on a living tree. The ship herself, highly carved and decorated in elven fashion and obviously made of wood that was cut and fashioned like normal, is somehow as alive as the wood of a dryad's oak, though with the dampening field in place all about the ship, any soul, consciousness, or spirit cannot be sensed.
Before any further study can be made, Pinky comes flying up an open hatch to fling her well-dressed if somewhat flyaway self at Brennon. She pulls up short at seeing Hammett, whom the pipes did not announce, not sure for a moment whom to fling herself upon. Whatever she was about to say to Brennon changes to a "B- Boss!"
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Post by Hammett on Jul 30, 2020 16:55:04 GMT
Hammett smiles when he see's her, "Pinky. Glad you are safe. I hope you haven't been giving Captain Brennon and his crew a hard time."
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Post by Admin on Jul 31, 2020 8:23:57 GMT
#s://i~ibb~co/SXpkXBr/Pinky~jpg "What?! Me give him a hard time?! Since you dumped me on this floating wreck your friend captain here - if that's really his rank! - has dragged me through storms, floating graveyards, imprisoned me below deck while he brought a steady stream of hussies into his cabin." she says with indignation. At least having been taken out of Casaba removed her bad 30's gun moll speech patterns. Even better is that she hasn't picked up a bad nautical patois...yet. "Arr, let my timbers be shivered if I ever set foot on this tub agin'"Oh, wait, there it is.
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Post by Hammett on Jul 31, 2020 18:16:38 GMT
Hammett hides a smile, "Hey. That is no way to speak of our host. And if you think this ship is a tub, you've never been to sea before." He looks around appreciatively, "This is one of the finest vessels in all the infinite seas of shadow."
He looks to Brennon, "Sorry, Captain. She doesn't mean anything by it. Just her sense of "humor". And I use the term "humor" lightly. Now what are the particulars of this deal you've made?"
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Post by Brennon on Aug 1, 2020 3:24:34 GMT
"She's my ship right enough," Brennon growls. "And she can hear you just fine from where you stand. I'd not be calling her a 'tub' or talking about shivered timbers anywhere she can hear you speak of her such, even in jest. As I recall, you were happy enough to board her out of Kasaba all in a hustle." Brennon glances towards the figurehead, a beautifully carved woman nearly 8 feet from hips to hair, just barely visible around the bowsprit, with a few steps leading down to a little balcony wrapped around the bow of the ship, to allow romantic strolls or maybe just a better view of the artwork. He might be upset with Pinky, or he might just be giving her a caution. His face isn't smiling, but it isn't particularly stern, either. The slight creaking of the deck planks under Pinky's feet is noticed more for its absence than its presence, as it stops at Brennon's words. What is visible of the figurehead is done in lifelike colours, red-gold hair like honey syrup and pale skin. Someone has draped a scarf or shawl across her impressive and presumably otherwise bare torso, possibly in jest or to suit a local modesty custom.
To Hammett he confesses, "There were no hussies- it's a bad idea to bring one mistress under another's roof, as the saying goes. Pinky simply didn't like the client taking such an interest in her." As he leads Hammett below to the tiny cabin he'll be sharing, by necessity, with Pinky, Brennon will fill Hammett in on the details of the exchange to come at midnight. Hammett can see that he has a bag waiting on the top bunk in the room, Pinky having curtained off the lower bunk to make a private space for herself, while her belongings lie strewn about the small room, most notably the washbasin under the large metal mirror mounted to look like an arched cathedral window carved into the bulkhead. The presence of a persistent cabin-girl, too polite to interrupt, brings something else to Brennon's mind.
"One last thing- it seems the conductor has finally regained his mind, just in time to make it useful to someone else. There's nothing saying we can't gain the information in his head before he is shipped off elsewhere, to be useful to some other party."
Brennon waits for Hammett to inspect the quarters, the invitation to join him in interrogating the prisoner once again unspoken but obvious in his posture. Seeing him in his own domain, he is by far the shortest man on the ship, and probably the only one who doesn't need to watch his head climbing through a doorway or hatch. Even the cabin girl is a couple of inches taller than her Captain, being at least 5'8". What are slightly low ceilings and slightly cramped spaces for most people seem to fit Brennon's 5'4" perfectly, making all others seem slightly outsized or out of place, with the possible exception of his overly tall elvish carpenter.
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Post by Hammett on Aug 1, 2020 16:48:29 GMT
Hammett tosses his backpack on to his bunk, and looks over at Brennon, "He has? That is interesting. We should speak to him right away. Also, what was the deal you made? What are you getting for him?"
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Post by Brennon on Aug 7, 2020 1:29:08 GMT
[ooc: I glossed over the actual amount since it is ooc fluff. Brennon would have included it in his previous rundown of events as they were headed to the passenger cabin.]
Once Hammett has 'settled in', Brennon will take him to the brig to talk to the conductor.
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Post by Hammett on Aug 7, 2020 6:44:33 GMT
As Hammett follows Brennon he ponders how to bring up what might be a touchy subject, but then decides it is best just to just be straight about it. He stops Brennon before they reach the prisoner and out of ear-shot of any crew members.
"Captain, a moment. Up until a few minutes ago I assumed the prisoner was permanently damaged, and of no real use, but if he has recovered then... Well, that changes things. I don't know if you have heard, but Prince Gerard is dead. He was killed in that attack in the harbor of Kasaba. Killed by these things like our prisoner or who they were working with. The same ones that almost killed you and your crew. And I can only assume Amber and many other shadows will soon be at war with them. With the King and Queen dead in Amber, Prince Benedict will need all the information he can gather to fight this coming war. This "conductor" is now much more valuable. If you were to bring him to Amber the reward would be much greater, if not in coin, then I am sure in both favors and recognition. Having the court of Amber owe you a debt is no small thing."
He waits to see how Brennon will take the request.
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Post by Brennon on Aug 7, 2020 19:52:25 GMT
Brennon looks at Hammet for a moment as if he just grew a second head. "I'm a privateer and a smuggler, Hammett. But I still make my word my bond. Without it, what honor do I have left? You make the same argument Gerard tried to strongarm me with. Do you really want me to answer you with what I told him?"
After a moment, Brennon's anger relents and he says, "Aye, I know he's dead, and the king and queen too. No, Hammett. I'd rather not hear Amber's promises from the mouth of a man I consider a friend. I'm no Loki, nor Anansi the spider or fickle Puck. That's why we have until midnight to get what information we can from the man while he is lucid. I've already set someone to write down all his speech, as if he were a mad prophet. His fate is sealed, as I'd not like to cross the Power pretty miss Anna May is fronting for. I suspect it's not Amber, which is why I'm after the information before the man is silenced- whatever means that will inevitably take. I gave word to Gerard, too, despite his bullying, but I've not the means to find those papers now they've left the city and possibly Kasaba itself, without a lead."
His last words are grudging, though whether it is because he is confessing giving in to Gerard, or that he can't complete the search on his own, is uncertain.
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Post by Hammett on Aug 7, 2020 20:54:40 GMT
Hammett nods, "I knew you'd say that, just as I hope you know we've been friends long enough to know I meant no offence. I felt duty bound to bring it up, but that is as far as it needs to go."
He motions down the hallway, "Let's find out what this bastard has to say for himself."
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2020 5:30:54 GMT
Entering the cabin they find the man sitting upright, almost haughtily, but still obviously not completely recovered from his injuries.
"So. You have both come for me then. Is it to be a quick execution or will you try to torture me first?"
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Post by Brennon on Aug 9, 2020 19:59:11 GMT
"Neither," Brennon says. They don't have time to get truly involved in the questioning, before he's sold. "We're days and leagues from Kasaba, or the world of the Germans." He's tempted to tell the man he's been ransomed, just not to his allies, and see what the man makes of it, but he doesn't want the fellow to clam up worse.
"This is the Isle of Delgos, and electricity and steam power don't work here, though gunpowder does, if it's simple enough. We're here to learn more about the job you did. You can't go back, and there's likely nothing left to go back to, anyhow." It's been a few weeks with Celessia blocking outside contact, and she's had plenty of time to learn about his mind's involuntary (or imposed) defences. That won't get the information itself, but it might make it easier to press him with questions. Even while blocking out all psychic contact, the figurehead is still alive and able to hear, see, and speak with Brennon when he goes forwards to her in the quiet hours of the night. He should have a better idea of how to press questions to the conductor without making his mind break down further.
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