BountyOfTheSeas/Session1

The season is spring, and the bright mid-day sun reflects off of the beautifully clear blue waters of the West’s Seaspray region in a dazzling display. Sunlight permeates the skin, giving the native peoples their golden tans, and the brilliance lends everything the semblance of order and cleanliness. The Seaspray region is to the northwest of the rest of the populated regions in the West. There are no significant islands to speak of; nothing on the scale of those in the Coral or Wavecrest Archipelagoes. As such, the politics here, even more than usual, revolve around independent islands, occasionally gathered into loose confederations for mutual protection and trade.
Unfortunately, the scattered populations of generally simple, peaceful people make this region a target for pirates, slavers, and Fair Folk; the rewards are not great, but the risk is low.
Which is not to say the region is without some degree of civilization: there are a few islands large enough to support sizeable towns and draw in traders from all around the West. These form the central powers in the few major political alliances – the Seafoam Alliance in the southwesterly parts, and the Krakatow City-States tending more to the north. To support their comparatively impressive populations, both of these loose federations are heavily involved in kelp-farming, leading to certain negative kelp-related stereotypes about the Seaspray region in more cosmopolitan areas of the West.

Our story opens with Verdant Waves standing on the deck of the Brilliance, Zeleny at the helm. The ocean's spray mists the deck of the ship as it plies its way through the sparkling waters of the ocean. Zeleny 's hand loosely grips the wheel. He stares frowning at the waves. He is a tall, muscular man, with intense gray eyes and teal hair he keeps roughly cropped. He may have been good-looking once, but scars crawl over his face, distorting its countours. He is bare-chested, dressed simply in rough pantaloons. He looks no stranger to hard labor.
Verdant stands scanning the horizon. He is a lean man, dressed in loose faded green robes that reach down to his ankles and cover up to his neck and wrists. His blue hair is cut short and his face holds angular features. A staff of gnarled wood is usually if not always close at hand.
As Verdant Waves glances at his fellow Chosen of the Sun, he cannot help but reflect on the circumstances that have conspired to bring them together, as if their fates were intertwined...

Three months ago:
The island is small, but the town is lively, being as it is directly on the Guild's main route through the region. The port is filled with the sounds of ships being loaded and unloaded all day and night, and the taverns with the sounds of sailors on leave.
Verdant Waves has just arrived in town, and has yet to even learn its name. Sitting down for your first meal on dry land in some time, he overhears a most... auspicious conversation...
"...we were scared shitless the whole way here, I tell you!"
"Oh, c'mon, it can't be that bad."
"I'm telling you, the Brilliance has hit three ships in as many weeks!"
"No shit..."
"Anybody who's carrying slaves through these parts is on their guard day in and out."
"...They say not even the Guild is safe!" This being the voice of a third man.
Verdant 's eyebrow quirks.
"Heh... yeah, but you don't believe that shit about their captain, do ya?"
"Are you kidding? I spoke to one of the guys that saw him, in the flesh!"
"He's a demon!" The third man again.
"Fire and light, all over the place - and when he spoke, they say the sky shook and flames burned in his eyes!"
This next part in a hush: "...Anathema?"
Verdant glances at the speakers. They are two burly, sweaty men sitting at the bar.
"Well, the guy didn't wanna say- "
Their speech is much quieter now - the first speaker appears visibly scared.
Over the din of the tavern, Verdant Waves can't hear what they're saying any longer.
A serving wench brings him his meal, setting down the steaming plate in front of him and leaving before he can ask for more water.
Verdant checks his money pouch, decides he can't buy them a drink to buy his acceptance, decides he doesn't want to start trouble and murmurs a note to check at the docks once he's got some food in his belly.

The evening is young, the sun still visible as it dips below the horizon in a spray of purple and pink clouds. Verdant strolls casually down the wharf...
Something catches his eye: the sailors on the boat at the far end of the docks... don't look like sailors. Certainly, they wear the dress of seamen, but their actions belie inexperience.
Verdant decides to get closer, somewhat cautiously.

Up on deck, the crusty veteran Salas Toad turns to his captain. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but... get a load of the bookworm on the docks. Caught him starin' at ye."
Zeleny nods. "Very well...I will go below decks. Better not to attract attention here."
"You want me and the men should roll him over a bit, see what he thinks he's starin' at?"
Zeleny turns, to stare back at the 'bookworm.' "No....let him be. For the moment. No need for violence, just yet."
"Arr."
"But send Dell to shadow him. If he intends on making a fuss, I want to know about it."

Verdant sees the exchange between the scarred man and the burly-looking fellow, and then the scarred man moves out of sight. He is quite certain that they were looking directly at him, if just for a moment…
Verdant murmurs, "Been spotted. Can move closer, and perhaps get in a fight...or perhaps answers."
Upon closer inspection, Verdant Waves can see clearly the difference between these sailors and professionals. They seem capable enough, but they just don't move the same way as all the other sailors on the docks. "Either smugglers...or worse...well, came this far." Verdant continues towards the boat.
Dell quips to himself, "Well, my job just got easier…. Ho, there, friend! Can I help you?"
"Ho there. Was out for a stroll, looking to get some rumors from the source." (Gestures at the docks).
Dell: "Rumors? Oh, you mean the stories these scallywags tell. Well, sorry to dissapoint, but The Bonny Cloud is only stopping over for supplies. The men won't get to see the taverns tonight." Verdant Waves’ keen Solar senses pick the kernels of truth from this youth’s words – he can tell for certain, at least, that the ship will in fact only remain in port for a few more hours.
Verdant Waves nods. "Hearing something about a demon-led ship. Hoping to find out where to avoid."
"Eh heh... hrm... yeh, I heard some crazy things floating around myself."
"Ouch, must be hard on the crew. Carrying perishables?"
Dell: "Ah... yes. Yes, that is in fact what we... are carrying." Again Verdant Waves picks up on subtle clues in tone and tempo, but this time they betray the youth’s lie.
Casually, Verdant Waves lays out the line by which the youth might hang themselves. "I...see. Heading to Krakatow then, I take it? I've heard about the shortage there."
Dell, unwittingly playing along, falls neatly into the trap laid by the Twilight. "Yup, yup, Captain's a real humanitarian, he is."
Verdant nods. Whatever these sailors ferry, it isn’t the usual load of dried kelp or jewel-crab. "Must be a nice man. Do give him my regards."
Dell: "Er... okay. Mind if we inquire as to WHO, exactly, you might be?"
Verdant moves away, pretending to not have heard his question.
"With the port authority, are we? Sir? Sir?"
Dell trots up behind Verdant Waves. "Sir, might I ask you to come meet our captain? It seems only fair, seein' as how you already know so much about us all."
Verdant turns with a look of surprise. "Hmm? Sorry, what was that?"
A few more of the sailors walk up behind Dell, more slowly and more purposefully.
"I said, -sir-, perhaps you'd care to join our Captain for... a quick chat?"
Verdant’s eyes narrow. "That depends on how permanent the stay is, 'sirs'. I'm not too keen to end up as booty in a ship's hold."
"Oh, no sir. Not by any means. The Captain's right opposed to that sorta thing." Judging by Dell's tone and posture, Verdant Waves can easily read the irritation. But there is truth there; slavers would not be safe around this man, whomever he may turn out to be.
Dell: "In fact, sir, we'll escort you to him now, if it please you."
Verdant stares at him for a moment, lips twitching, then shrugs. "Why not?"
Dell smiles. "Right this way, sir."

Interior: Ship’s Cabin
Salas knocks on the open door. "Sir? Dell has been... a bit enthusiastic in his work."
Zeleny looks up from his desk. With a stony countenance, he rises and allows Salas to lead the way.
Salas stomps above deck, then gestures at the tall man flanked by three of Zeleny's crew. Zeleny 's mouth twitches as he notices the man's escort, and he tells them dryly, "That will be all." The men slink off, some shamefacedly.
Zeleny turns to the man. "Can I help you?" His tone is cool.
Verdant chuckles. “Well, it seems your men were quite insistent on the two of us having a chat.”
"Really." Zeleny is sardonic. "Why is that?"
Dell pipes up: "He seemed verrry interested in the ship, sir!"
Verdant quirks an eyebrow. "I was more interested in the 'demon-ship' Brilliance I've been hearing about."
"Are you. You have some reason to be concerned?"
Verdant bites his lip. "Concerned, no. Interested, yes." Verdant exhales and says, "Especially given what I've heard about the captain."
Zeleny studies him carefully. "Why is that?"
Verdant thinks, then shrugs and says, "Because of the descriptions I've heard. He has quite a, shall we say, radiant presence. Almost like the sun itself."
"Why do you think the Bonny Cloud can help you with that? Sailors talk most when they're drunk, you know, and at this hour all my crew are sober." Though that was itself unusual: the sea ran on grog and the lash.
Dell: "Heh heh heh... sure we are, sir."
“Well, to put it bluntly, your crew doesn't move like normal sailors. Much more...inspired, perhaps?”
Actually, thought Salas, much more like a recently-liberated band of slaves who've been hastily assembled into a ship's crew. Not to put too fine a point on it.
Zeleny shrugs. "I do not believe in the leadership capabilities manifested by the whip. Nor in the salutory effects of alchohol," he says, with a ‘Look’ at Dell.
Verdant: "Admirable qualities. Though it is impressive that you can lead men without need for such crutches." Verdant sighs. "If you don't mind me being rude, but, are you an Exalt?"
"You are blunt." A short pause.
Verdant chuckles. "You seem to be in a hurry. Do you want to beat around the bush forever?"
"Discretion at port is worth a few moments. I am Zeleny, and this is the Brilliance. What is it that you want?" The sailors within earshot have all stopped their work, and are staring at the stranger. If their cover has been blown, their options are limited – a flight from harbor in the dead of night, always a risky proposition, or else the hasty disposal of this unknown stranger. And if he is confident enough to approach them in this manner, he may well be more dangerous than his bookish appearance would suggest. An air of menace grows palpable.
Verdant lets out a relieved sigh, then smiles and bows slightly. "I am Verdant Waves, and I seek my own kind." "The Chosen of the Unconquered Sun."
A muffled expression of shock ripples through the growing crowd of sailors.
Zeleny 's face becomes still.
Salas: "Hmph. Knew something was funny about that one, I did..."
Zeleny: "I have not met my fellow Chosen, before."
Another slight pause.
"Welcome aboard," and he bows back. His voice has become incrementally warmer.
"My thanks, captain."
A buzz of conversation from the throng.
Salas Toad is the first to shake Verdant Waves' hand, and clap him roughly on the shoulder.
Dell, afterwards, apologizes for "the, y'know, the misunderstanding, and all."
Verdant chuckles and nods, saying "I understand, believe me."
The men insist on throwing a celebration that night. The grog flows like water!
Zeleny conspiciously does not partake, preferring to look mildly disapproving throughout the evening.
Verdant doesn't imbibe either, not a drinking man.
As the ship floats calmly on a sea of dark water, the light and sounds of the crew's revelry float out into the star-specked night.

Cut to: Present, the Brilliance at sea.
The sun is near-blinding; all the mortals on board squint continuously.
The time spent together since then has been fruitful, for both Solars, but the journey is just beginning...

Flash to: The Starlit Waters, floating at the convergence of two major shipping lanes.
...roughly a week's travel southeast of Cordon Island, one of the largest in the Seaspray region.
Joy: "Sister, there's someone here for you. I... he's not a customer... I think."
Irisa is currently in her office/quarters. She looks out onto the deck.
Her waist long hair is tied back loosely, shimmering slightly in the light. She wears a sturdy pair of pants, a short sleeve white shirt and boots, as well as a thin necklace of what looks to be small links of black jade. The only things marring her unblemished golden tan skin are the tattoos denoting her as a member of the Tya, the blue ink occasionally blending in with the light streaks of blue, green and white that flash in the sunlight.
"Oh really?" *her pearl white eyes quickly scan the deck looking for the new arrival*
A small man with a unfortunately misshapen nose forces his way past Joyful Wave and into the office.
Behind him, several larger men stand around, looking as out-of-place as they are imposing.
The small man gives a cursory attempt at a bow, and introduces himself as 'Honorable Snail.'
Irisa looks the man over, then motions to one of the chairs in the office. "Sit sir, sit." She sits herself down behind her work desk. "Now, how can I help you?"
Snail: "Madam, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you. I must say, my employers have heard a great deal about your unique business.
Snail: "They've sent me to, ahrm, ascertain, exactly what it is that you do provide your customers."
Irisa smiles slightly, then leans closer to Snail. "It's simple, really. My customers tell me what they want to experience and I give them a taste of it."
Snail: "Ahrm. I see. A taste? -Only- a taste? Surely you couldn't command such, ahrm, exorbitant prices if that were all?"
Irisa nods. "Well, it depends on how much they want to pay for it." Her grin widens a bit. "Who ARE your employers, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Ah, ahrm, yes, I was getting to that. If I may, first, how much does a typical... experience cost? You seem quite popular in certain circles, ahrm, all of them wealthy."
"I usually ask for about *Res 3 in jade*, more or less depending on what they want to do."
"Ahrm. I see. And, surely, with such large sums of money changing hands, you, ahrm, you have... security, yes?
Irisa nods. "Of course. It would be bad for business if I did not."
"These are dangerous waters, and dangerous times. A successful businessman, ahrm, -woman, ahrm, needs sufficient protection for her interests. It just so happens, madam, that my employers are in the, ahrm, business of -providing- protection for smaller businesses such as yours."
"I see." Irisa sits back in her chair. "And how DO your employers protect small businesses like mine?"
"Ah, well, ahrm, my employers maintain a, ahrm, a sizeable fleet of ships, dedicated to protecting private interests. For a small percentage of your monthly gross, they can ensure that your, ahrm, business remains safe from... undesirables."
"Hmm.” Irisa studies her visitor closely, using talents finely honed with years of experience. "Where are your employers based?"
"Ahrm, ahrm, well, of course there are controlling interests in a number of, ahrm, businesses throughout Seaspray...”
Irisa rests her elbows on the desk and steeples her fingers. "How about this. You give me some contact information and I'll get in touch with your employers once I make a decision. Sound fair enough?"
From outside comes a booming, yet feminine, voice. "You want ‘undesirables?’ I'll tell you about ‘undesirables!’"
From the perspective of Honorable Snail and Irisa, the Ocean has just walked in, perched rather incongruously around a small, dark-haired woman. The dark-haired woman sits down. The Ocean sits down with her.
“Once, the Grand Duke of Sea-Horses threw a party in his coral palace…”
Snail: "Uh? Madam Irisa, who is this... this..."
"And who showed up, but the Prince of Oysters!"
Snail: "...lunatic!"
Callidora leans back, puts her feet up on Snail, and continues talking.
"Now if you thought you knew boring…"
Snail: "Ahhh!"
“Let me tell you, sea horses are boring."
Snail writhes away. Callidora looks offended, thrusts her foot in Snail's face.
Snail: "Nngh!"
Callidora: "Apologize!"
Snail clutches his further-mangled nose.
"You know, I know a lady…"
Snail: "Mben! Mben, gid in hbere!"
“…who would protect you from undesirable feet if you paid her money."
Callidora winks at Irisa.
The toughs from outside burst through the door, hands in jackets.
Irisa looks at Callidora, exuding annoyance. "Will you please stop attacking my customers and explain why you are here?"
Tough: "Whut's the problum, boss?"
Callidora stands up, looking dignified, and pointedly answers Irisa. "I have negotiations to conduct with these fine gentlemen.”
Snail: "Madam Irisa, may my men drag this WENCH outside and beat her?"
Irisa looks at the men. "Get back on the deck unless you want me to have you thrown over the side."
Callidora: “Just what we needed to talk about!"
Snail: "I fail to see how we can, ahrm, discuss important matters of business with-"
"Mr. Snail, several *huff* extremely important shipping deities have filed complaints that you've been upsetting traffic in the area…"
Snail: "Shipping...?"
Snail: "Who...?"
Callidora “…with your totally illegal piracy!"
Irisa stands. In a calm voice she says. "Everyone be quiet. NOW!” Her voice carries the tone of command, an air of authority somewhat incongruous with her normally delicate features, but not out of place whatsoever when combined with her darkly flashing eyes.
The thugs are visibly cowed by the angry half-nymph.
Snail himself goes a little pale.
Callidora: "Yes, you heard the lady! Be quiet!"
Irisa looks at the thugs. "You go back outside." She looks at Snail. "We'll finish speaking in a moment." And finally, she looks at Callidora. "And you, please go outside. I will speak with you once I finish with this gentleman."
Snail: "If... if, ahrm, if you aren't going to deal with this ruffian in a manner befitting, ahrm, a businessman..."
"Pardon me, but the Grand Ambassador of the Water Court does not wait outside! My court is offended." Snail pales again. "Not only by your poor manners, but..." Callidora wheels on Snail, “…by your totally illegal appropriation of my colleague's name! Minister Snail is very picky about who may use his name."
Irisa looks at Callidora. "Stop this instant! If he is what you say he is, you may deal with him as you please AFTER I finish speaking with him."
"Not until he promises to cease using the name Snail."
Snail edges sideways, attempting to leave the room before the confrontation to come.
Callidora turns to Snail. "Well?"
Snail: "Eek!"
Irisa slides in front of the door. "Not so fast, sir. Please explain yourself."
Snail: "I... I..."
Snail pulls himself up to his full, diminutive height. "I will not relinquish my name on her, ahrm, her word alone." He thrusts his finger at Callidora accusingly.
"Oh? Do you question me?"
Irisa leans against the door, closing it, then locks it. She looks at the pair. "Please sit so we can talk about this like civilized beings."
Snail: "Eep."
Callidora pulls herself up, looks down on Snail menacingly. "Boo!"
Snail jumps.
Callidora sits, smugly.
Callidora: “Well?”
Eyeing Callidora suspiciously, Snail moves his chair out of foot-range, and carefully sits.
Irisa shakes her head, then sits in the chair behind her desk. "Do continue." She points at Callidora. "And not a word out of you until he finishes. Clear?"
Callidora: "Very well."
Snail: "As... ahrm, as I was saying..."
The tremendous thud of a heavy man slamming into the door from outside fills the room. It repeats, over and over, and the wood begins to give way. Outside, muffled shouting can be heard. "Boss! Don' worry!"
Snail leaps out of his seat, and wedges himself into the corner, away from the two women.
Snail: "Stop! Stop, you idiots!"
Irisa clenches her fist, then moves and unlocks the door.
One of the thugs tumbles through, slamming into the desk headfirst.
Callidora jumps up, wags her finger in the man's face. "What's your name?!"
"Uuungh..." Callidora smacks him. "Duh, ow!”
Another, standing sheepishly in the doorway, says "You want we should hurt 'em, boss?"
Snail shakes his head.
Irisa spins the man around and places her dagger at his throat. "You see that door? You're going to be paying for the repairs. Now when I move this blade, you're going to leave and not even THINK of coming in here again. Clear?"
Everyone freezes.
There is a very long, very pregnant pause.
The thug slowly backs out of the doorway.
Irisa nods, then moves the blade. "I'll take that as a yes. Now get out of here before I change my mind."
Snail: "Er, you see, being in a very dangerous business, my associates no doubt ahrm, assumed the worst."
Callidora is suddenly dead serious. "Perhaps if you didn't go around threatening people for money, you wouldn't be in such a dangerous business.”
Snail colors. This is a sore spot. "We are legitimate businessmen!"
Irisa points the dagger at Snail. "Enough. Leave contact information for your employers with me and I will get in touch with them if I wish to take them up on their offer."
Callidora: "Yes, and I'll expect to hear from your employers as well" She gives him a business card.
Irisa looks at Callidora. "If you wish to speak with this man, I ask that you don't do it on my ship. It's taken enough damage because of you as is."
Snail: "Ahrm, you see, regrettably, due to security concerns and other, ahrm, financial reasons, my employers are not so easily reached. I'm afraid I'll need your answer now."
Snail: "We can provide you with protection you can't get elsewhere. I promise you that."
"I would rather have time to think about the matter. If your employers know enough about me to know my routes, have them send you to me in two months' time."
Snail narrows his eyes. Finally, "Acceptable. I'll be seeing you soon, then."
Snail: "Although my time is very valuable. I hope you have an... ahrm, an answer worth my trip."
Callidora: "Give my regards to Minister Snail. I'll expect you'll be hearing from him soon...."
Snail sneers at Callidora on his way out the door.
Irisa nods. "If you're lucky, I will." *she sheaths her dagger and starts straightening papers on her desk*
He tries to slam it impressively, but is thwarted by its weight.
Callidora flippantly closes the door behind him, and is seated.
Irisa snickers at the feeble slam, then looks at Callidora. "Now, mind explaining yourself, Ambassador?"
"Eu weh. Sorry about the goofy routine, I've been tracking these people for months. They're pretty much what you think they are. I'm trying to lay the groundwork to scare them out of the 'protection' business. Or, if absolutely necessary, a raid on their 'HQ'. Or whatever seedy bar passes for it."
"I had a feeling that he was running a scam of some sort." She extends her hand. "Irisa, daughter of Kenami."
"Callidora. Do you get idiots like him in here often?"
"Not often. Usually a different type of idiot." She smiles slightly.
"I believe I'm familiar with the type you're talking about… Now, if I could trouble you for a few minutes of your time, my Court has sent me to negotiate a dispute between your mother and our Most Hallowed Deputy of Argumentative Auspices, His Most Beneficent of the Ministry of Coral…”
Callidora and Irisa quickly become embroiled in the haphazard imitation of politics practiced by the Seaspray region’s Water Courts. From their mutual experiences with some of the local ocean gods, they find more than one occasion to share laughter over the madness unique to ancient and immortal bureaucrats.
Of course, the next six times Callidora had to shuttle back and forth between her Court and the Starlit Waters she was somewhat less pleased, but such are the vagaries of water-spirit politics…



The Brilliance sits in harbor at Cordon Island, taking on supplies and fresh water. Unbeknownst to the two Chosen, a third of their kind wanders the town on a quest of her own...

Pyrrha: too long has she been concerned with the more immediate concerns of food and money. Recently, she realized that since her Exaltation, her memories of her missing brother Parn have been fading. She find it difficult to remember his laugh, or picture his face...
However, just recently she’s hit upon what seems to be his trail.
Always vague, never for certain, but people tell stories of miraculous deeds taking place in the Seaspray region...
And what little evidence she has found pointed her towards the island of Cordon, and its largest port, Driftwood.
How apt, considering the boat she sailed was almost that. The hasty repairs on the sail were starting to pull apart. She never was a competent seamstress...
Now, Pyrrha stands before the largest inn in town - it seems as good a place to start as any.
After emptying the seawater out of her boots - and her boat - a drink was mighty tempting. "Ah... well, I suppose the sailcloth can wait, for now at least."
Pyhrra covertly covers her nose as she stepped into the inn. The smell of the sea and sweat was already strong on her, she didn't need it any stronger.
Dainty as she tried to be, there was no escaping the smells of this inn - it seemed as though the smell of fish would cling to her forever, an almost tangible mixture of people, the food they were eating, and the stale beer they had spilled.
The harried server points Pyrrha toward a section of empty tables, then turns back to her raucous customers.
"Oh lords..." she gags privately, adding 'bath' to the top of the list of things to do.
Pyhrra sits down on one of the chairs later on, resting the sword and shield against the chair next to her, hooking the strap around her ankle so if anyone got it in their mind to steal them there would be an anchor at least.
Negotiation was not Pyhrra's strongest suit, that was for certain: a game plan was needed. Everyone 'looking' for information had a drink first to fit in...
Pyhrra sidles up to the bar. Counting her jade quietly, the warrior grimaces.
The bartender is visibly surprised to see a woman in his establishment.
She coughs embarrassedly. "Ah... how much for water?"
"Er, coming right up.... Can I help you with something? Are you lost?"
"Not exactly, I'm seeking something actually." Pyhrra accepts the water sheepishly. "Thank you."
“Ah. Your husband?"
"No, no, nothing like that. I didn't say 'someone' but that's accurate enough. I'm working on behalf of an independent party."
Pyhrra smirked inwardly. Independent party was true enough.
"Sorry, miss, I just assumed... a woman, alone in this part of town..."
"What's *that* supposed to mean?"
"Well, does your husband know you're here?"
"If he did, he probably would be none to happy, eh?" Pyhrra jokes.
" No, no, of course not. Um... you're not from around here, are you? My mistake, m- sir. Can I help you with what you're looking for?"
Better. Let him think her a Tya. "Probably, I'll bet you hear a lot of tales in your line of business right?"
“Oh, yessir. All manner of things. Wild tales, too; things you wouldn't believe."
"Regale me, please."
“Why, just the other day someone, Nightowl, I think it was, came in here in an uproar about some tavern brawl happening a couple blocks away."
"Said someone got punched clear through a -wall-, some crazy kinda..."
"Well, Nightowl, he said it was Anathema, but he's prone to exaggerate..."
"Which tavern was this?!" Pyhrra asks quickly
"Ah, the Lucky Star, some three blocks north, two east."
"They already fixed the wall, though, nothing to see no more."
"Anything else?"
"Well, 'course the demon got lost in the confusion."
"Crazy old Madame Cather, she says she got to see him up close, but nobody puts much stock in what she says..."
"On account of her, you know, her history after her husband died and all."
Pyhrra nods and downs the remainder of the water, sliding the tankard across the bar to him. "You have been a great help. Daana'd's grace bless you." she says, praying she pronounced the name of the Immaculate Dragon of Water correctly. Books were startlingly vague about such things.
One of the barflies grunts at the barkeep as Pyrrha is leaving, "Damn, man, you tell it all wrong. You gotta EMBELLISH, y'know, spice it..." and is cut off by the door closing.
As Pyhrra steps outside she hefts the sword and shield over her shoulder. Lucky Star, then find work for the night. Places like this always needed a night guard *somewhere*.
The walk to the Lucky Star is a short one, but made somewhat more exciting by the drunks starting to spill out into the streets. Pyhrra steps deftly around them. One sneezes and she is past. One stumbles and spills a drink - her footsteps are lost in the patter of liquid on stone. She should have been a Night Caste.
Dodging one or two slurred catcalls, Pyrrha makes her way to the tavern. Sure enough, the wood in one part of the wall looks to be newer and cleaner than the rest. She takes only a passing glance. It was a big man that went through. Impressive.
She pushes open the door and tries to look superior, like the Immaculates in books. Now – who to interrogate...?
Pyhrra angles between the drunks and other patrons and heads for the bar. If anyone saw it, the barman would have after all. She rests up against the rough wood, mildly wishing she had the robe to pull off the look.
The bartender looks at her archly, then pointedly goes back to whatever it is he was doing behind the bar. Not as friendly an establishment as the last one, apparently. Parn's sort of place...
Pyhrra raises a brow. Maybe there would be a second hole to match the first on the other side of the establishment before the night was out. She raises a finger indicating her desire to be served.
The bartender grunts. "Whuddaya want?"
"Water."
"Hrmph."
Pyhrra's eyes are level with his. He slides the glass down the bar to her, maintaining eye contact the whole time.
Essence pumps through her mind, her soul, reaching out through invisible channels to grasp the man’s attention and hold it fast.
The bartender's expression twitches slightly. He seems much attentive now. Pyhrra speaks quietly. It was only important that *he* heard her. "I think my drinking habits portray perhaps a shred of who I am and why I am here. Do you follow or do I need to elaborate further for your mortal ears?"
He looks Pyrrha dead in the eyes. "Yes."
"The hole in the wall. Word is that someone was thrown through it. Or rather thrown through the wall that was previously there at least. I dont pretend to know what things you are fed here, regardless, no mere mortal could do it. I think you may have come to the same conclusion that I have.”
"Er... yeah. The guy... he was crazy-strong."
"Any information on the event would be… appreciated." Pyhrra makes sure to stress the work 'appreciated'. It’s true, it would be.
"I can't really say what happened, but there was a fight, people started getting thrown around... one of 'em went through the wall. Then there was just one guy left standing, and he ran for it."
"Anything distinctive?"
"Huh... no, no, I didn't get a good look at him. Funny thing is, he looked right at me..."
"...you remember nothing else?"
He shakes his head. "I can't say. Weeeeird shit, man. I wanted nothin' to do with it. 'course, Cather, the old coot, she says the guy was actually one of her -tenants-, if you believe that."
"Then I must speak with her."
"Suit yourself. She's not far." He gives directions, concisely but authoritatively.
"My thanks." Pyhrra walks a little out of sight and sighs a little. She didn't like to be rude like that.
Now to find this 'Cather' woman…
The three story building supposedly run by the Cather widow could best be described as a 'ratrap'. If Parn really lived here, he certainly wasn't living very high on the hog. But then, he always was frugal.
"Ick... I hope in some ways that it wasn't you, Parn..."

Inside the ramshackle building:
A crone, who had clearly seen better years, hobbled out of a slightly lilting doorway. "Yes? Yes? What is it?"
"You must be craz... you must be Cather is that right?"
Coot: "What's it to you? I swear to the heavens, I never get a moment's peace around here..."
"I see that politeness blossoms with age. I do not mean to take up much of your time."
Coot: "Cats, and pesky neighbors, and demon-tenants..."
"Ah yes, three very frustrating issues to be sure, and just what I have come to speak to you about." Pyhrra says sympathetically. "The third, to be exact."
Coot: "Oh, I suppose you'll be wantin' to see his room, then, just like all the rest? I've kept it just as it was, yes I have..."
"You are most gracious, Madame Cather. Shall we?”
The coot opens the door to a flat that has very recently been lived in...
Pyhrra steps in and inspects it carefully. "Do you remember much about him Madam? Perhaps his name or at least what he looked like?" LOOKS like, Pyhrra... he's not dead yet. Not dead...
"Oh, he was a nice boy, a nice boy."
"That's all?"
"Until all that messy business with the, uh, the fight.... Left in quite a hurry, he did. He never said much to me... always paid in cash..."
"So it seems... Did he mention where he was going? Where he was from? Any friends or family? Please madam, its important for me to find him."
"I tells 'em, I saw him glowing when he was leaving, I saw it I did, but no one believed me. No, no... no mention of his past..."
Pyhrra was growing worried. Even she was having greater difficulty remembering him, and this was no usual fading memory. It was frightening how little of him she had left.
"I do recall..."
"Glowing you say?!" Pyhrra says quickly
Coot: "Yes, I do recall him saying he had to go somewhere. It was very important... Yes, yes of course he was glowing, the whole Lucky Star saw him glow..."
"I dont suppose you remember where it was that he was going? Direction maybe?"
"Yes, yes, somewhere to the southeast... one of those tinier little islands... Noah? Noar? Yes, yes, it was Noar. To the southeast."
"Noar...Southeast... Thank you madam, I appreciate this." Parn was definitely an Exalted just like her!
Now that Pyhrra has a chance to see the room, she thinks she can see evidence of Parn's passing.
A pair of boots that look like Parn's favorite style were carelessly left here...
Pyhrra gently picks them up. "His boots..."
Some left-over food looks like seasoned crab, Parn's favorite food. Pyhrra leaves that well enough alone. Otherwise, the room looks like any other hastily-abandoned apartment. He must have left in a hurry.
"How long ago ws this? How long ago did he leave?"
"Ohh, just a few days ago. I haven't even had time to rent out the room, 's why it's still a mess... say, you wouldn't be interested in a room, now would you, dearie?"
"I'm afraid not madam." Much as she would have wanted to rest where he did, to follow him step by step, time was growing short, her boat was barely sea-worthy and she was just days behind now, she could not lose the trail now.
Pyhrra turns and jogs out of the room with the boots over her shoulder, nearly forgetting. "Oh! Thank you ma'am!"
Coot: "Hey! Hey, you can't take thos- ohhh, never mind..."
Pyhrra makes quick time to get back to the docks and her skiff. Since leaving home, she has gradually made her way to the north and the east. From what Pyhrra knows, however, the trip southeast to Noar is too long with too few islands along the way for her tiny boat to suffice.
When she reaches it, her heart sinks: only the mast is evidence of her boat’s presence.
"Oh noooo! My boat!"
Moot point, it would seem...
Pyhrra slumps to her knees. "I was so close and now its all gone!" She slams her fists against the boards of the jetty, an few make audible cracks from the impacts.
It would take weeks to scrape together enough jade to make another one. The loss was her own fault really. She should have dragged it up onto a beach, or not left it so long taking on water. She misjudged how quickly the old wooden tub would fill with water.
Pyhrra sighs and closes her eyes, still slumped facing the sea, her fists clenched.
Woman sailors were not often welcome aboard ships, maybe she could pose as a boy or work as a guard.
Pyhrra looks at herself. Option one was not likely workable, she couldn't even buy the clothes to cover up her curves.
Perhaps she could work as a guard on a shop headed for Noar... it might work. Might. Pyrhha pulls herself upright and gives one longing look at the mast of the little boat that saw her through so much.
"Goodbye old friend. May you be fished up to provide some children the glee of sailing across the bay." At that she takes of in a swift jog towards the greater docks where the larger cargo ships and sloops are moored to make her sales pitch.
Her inquiries are met with varying degrees of scorn and regret. The fifth ship down the line, however...

Salas Toad is doing the evening's final inventory as he sees a strangely-dressed woman with long blonde hair jog up to him. "Ay? Can I help ya, missy?"
"A fine evening it is, sir! May I ask where your fine ship will be sailing come dawn?"
“Ay, ay; we be heading for Noar at dawn's first light."
"Perfect. May I speak to someone in charge please?"
Salas: "I'm as close as you need. What is it you be wantin'?"
"Working passage."
The gruff, burly man looks quizzically at the short, busty, long-haired woman standing before him. "Er... wellll..."
Pyhrra grins and tries to look trustworthy and hard-working. “Sir, I understand that it is against tradition for a woman to be a sailor.... That is why I come to you not as a sailor - though I am capable - but as a guardsman."
At least the man hadn't interrupted her like the others had. She had been far too off center to use her abilities to MAKE them listen.... her thought pattern is cut off by laughter.
Salas: "Ah ha... ah ha ha ha ha! HAR HAR HAR!"
"Why do you laugh?"
Salas: "Missy, I do be apologizin'," he wipes a tear from his eye. "But we be havin' more protection than I think we'd need against anythin' short of a..."
Salas: "That is to say... I think we're all stocked up in the 'guardsman' department."
"W...wait! Don't be so hasty! I'm a capable guard!"
Salas: "Ay, ay, I'm sure you are at that."
"Why not, then? If I'm not a useful guard you can toss me overboard!" She mutters, “It’s not like I haven’t swum to shore like that before…”
Salas: "Sorry, dearie. Now, if I could be askin' you to step aside, I've still more supplies to tally..."
"Let me fight your best man then."
Deerhorn: "Hey, sir, why not have her on board? She looks like fun!" The other men nearby chuckle appreciatively.
"Bare-knuckle, till he yields." She takes care not to say 'one of us' yields.
The men chuckle louder at her challenge.
Salas: "Brave words, but 'twould be a shame to mess such a pretty face."
"I wouldn’t worry about it, yours isn’t that pretty!" Pyhrra lets no small amount of fire into the words.
Salas: "Har! I'm not so sensitive about me looks as you must think, me pretty. Now, some of the boys can drag you off of the docks if you be refusing to listen to reason."
Deerhorn: "Like I said, sir: we could use a pretty thing like her onboard! I'm sure we'd find some way to keep her busy, eh?"
Pyhrra ignores the statement and stands resolutely.
Salas arches an eyebrow, then turns back to his inventory. "Boys, go take her someplace where she won't get hurt. The docks are no place for a lady."
Seeing her stance, the men approach somewhat warily...
As soon as the first sailor is within arms-reach there is a blur of movement and a wet crunch as the first sailor is tossed into the air like a ragdoll from a blow to the stomach.
Sailor: "HUUUURGH!"
Salas: "Holy gods..." The men slowly back away from the fierce little woman...
A scar-faced man appears on the ship's deck from down below, hearing the noise. He takes in the fracas. "What's going on?" He doesn't speak loudly. He doesn't need to.
"Ah, sir... I be thinkin' there's someone here needs to see you. Maybe Master Waves would be interested, too...?"
Pyhrra was about to draw Memoir from its sheath. She looks up at the new man on the scene with a hint of shock and challenge.
Zeleny jumps lightly down onto the dock. "I don't think that will be necessary. But inform him."
Salas: "Aye, sir." He sends a crewman running onto the ship.
"Now...why are you thrashing my crew, miss?" Salas, and most of the other men, back away.
Pyrrha relaxes the slightest bit, facing the newcomer. "You the captain, sir? It’s about time, your band of seamonkeys were growing terribly rude." She glances at the one still holding his stomach.
Seaman: "Urk..." *gasp*
"Were they." Zeleny is expressionless and noncommittal. "What precipitated this incident?"
Verdant Waves arrives on deck, looking out on the situation, ready to back Zeleny up if need be. He takes in the situation at a glance, lingering on the aggressive-seeming woman.
Pyhrra is a short woman, quite pretty in her own way, perhaps a little 'heavy built' to put things politely. She has long blonde hair that she wears in a simple braid that hangs to halfway down her back. Her dress is simple, a ruddy brown tunic belted around the waist with many pouches and compartments.
She has an almost angelic face with sea-blue eyes. She is the kind of woman that if she put the effort in (or had the money to) she could appear as a goddess. She wears a simple looking sword and shield, and has abstained from wearing pantaloons to cope with the heat.
Pyrrha: "I was merely asking for work, but they would not take me seriously and allow me to see someone in charge. Then they attempted to manhandle me, so I manhandled them in defense."
"I see." He glances at Dell for confirmation. The cabinboy was the most likely to give a direct answer, he'd found.
Dell: "Heh..."
Dell: "...yessir. But we weren't gonna hurt her! I woulda made sure of that!"
Zeleny frowns slightly at his men. "I apologize on behalf of my crew." His gaze turns back to her. "What sort of work were you seeking?"
"A guardsmen. As you can see I am fully equipped..." She gestures at the sailor. Deerhorn clutches his injured stomach, still moaning theatrically. "And trained. I ask only passage to Noar and food as payment. No jade need be exchanged."
Verdant 's eyebrow quirks and the corner of his mouth curls upwards.
Zeleny: "You should be aware miss...- what is your name? - that while we always welcome extra warriors, this is a pirate vessel, not a trader." He might as well be blunt about it, the captain figured; this woman was either with them, or as good as dead, no matter what happened.
Pyhrra looks at the apparently inept crew and resists a snide remark about just 'what' they pirate. "Irrelevent."
Zeleny gives her another long, evaluating look. Did she seem to be anything but forthright?
"If you are willing to fight with us, you may come aboard. We may as well go to Noar as anywhere, as long as we stick to the shipping lanes.”
Salas: "It's where I was planning on recommending, next, cap'n... should be busy this time of year..."
Zeleny nodded. “As for the rest of you...." His eyes move over his crew again. There is no need to tell you all, I'm sure, that if you pick a fight with this young lady...it will go badly for you."
Octo: "It uh, it is bad luck to bring a woman on board, captain..."
The captain glares back. "I do not rely upon luck."
The sailors reply in unison, "Aye, sir."
Pyhrra grins, victorious, and whispers quietly, “I'll see you soon, Parn…”
Verdant murmurs something that isn't audible from the docks.
"You haven't told me your name," Zeleny mentions to his newest crewmember.
"Name's Pyhrra. And you, Captain?"
"I am Zeleny."
Pyhrra nods slightly.
"I will show you to your berth, if you wish."
"That would be most satisfactory Captain, the sooner, the better." Pyhrra slings the boots over her shoulder and follows...

As the crew makes ready early next morning, Zeleny and Verdant Waves overseeing the preparations, Pyrrha stands on the bow of the ship.
Pyhrra enjoys the dawn; it is in her nature after all.
The rising sun seems to frame her, painting her billowing hair in golds and pinks.
Salas: "We're ready to get underway, Captain."
Zeleny nods. "Then take us out."
"Ay ay, sir. All hands, make ready! You there- !"
Verdant whispers to Zeleny, "Pure curiosity, was it because you're worried about something or because every blade in a fight counts?"
Zeleny turns to Verdant. "She seems a capable warrior. And there's - something. I can't quite put my finger on it."
With a motion that is, at least, smoother than usual, the boat leaves port. The crew seems to be improving.
"You too? I thought it was my imagination."
Zeleny frowns, his fingers playing with a red ribbon tied to his wrist. "Yes. It's best to trust one's instincts, on the sea. But perhaps we should see if we can learn more of her..."
"I propose finding a method that doesn't involve a punch in the gut."
Zeleny smiles slightly. "Seconded."
As the Brilliance sails into the rising sun, floating on a golden sea, the strands of Fate part to make way for three mighty souls, and prepare to weave together two more, forming a perfect Circle…
[01:56] <ST> END CHAPTER 1

Comments

*sigh* Sorry about the formatting. I've been cleaning this thing up for hours in MS Word, I'm not about to spend another hour putting in all the little "<br>"s to space it out appropriately. If anyone knows shortcuts, please, for the love of all that is holy... - DigitalSentience

View your document in page layout (that is, with all the formatting characters visible), and find + replace all carriage returns with <br>? Just a thought. - Nikink

Editty edits. Should look nicer now. Nanaki

Wow. Thank you both. - DigitalSentience