The harsh breeze of a month freshly turned Wood was enough to billow and flap the loose garments of Mako the Shark as he stood at the prow of Luna's Cutting Scimitar, but it was not enough to chill his rough hide. The small yacht turned pirate schooner was currently pulling into the harbor of a small fishing village, parting the otherwise still waves that stretched out to the horizon, meeting the cresting sun in the distance, and further into a clear sky. Few sounds permeated the still air surrounding the small town of Eyre. The fishermen already about their day are miles out at sea, leaving a silent dock, with only the waves lapping against Mako's vessel, and the seagulls following it to announce that life did indeed exist. Indeed life was quite still, even on the ship.
Mako's form was all but carved of granite, only the wind moving his baggy breeches about his legs like the sails on his mast. His heavy topknot of thick, viridian hair stood still on his otherwise shaven head, as did his eyes, closed to the world around him. His arms lay crossed against his chest, and his feet firmly planted on the deck. His squat form, lidded eyes, and cross expression all but testify to his stone-like qualities. His eyes slowly opened to reveal a pair of aquamarine eyes, the gentle nature rivaling the predator gaze set by his thick brow.
Seeming to come to life of a start, Mako slowly turned to see the rest of his ship; Kaiju, his sworn brother at the wheel, and Jasala, friend to the end coming down from the rigging.
"Mako, remind me again what we are doing? I still don't see what you hope to accomplish." Jasala inquired, her lithe form taking a pronounced last step onto the deck, her solid heeled boots giving a short clap onto the floor. Not for the first time did Mako wonder how she managed to climb rigging in those things, a real sailor worked with flat boots, or nothing at all.
"My father said little to me, and even less of it was of value, but one thing he was always right about Jasala: Where there is jade, there's oportunity." Mako lied, "We'll see what awaits us when we get there." There was always a reason to give them, but mostly he would act on his instincts. Unbeknownst to him, his crew was quite aware of his 'gut instincts'.
"And besides," spoke a deep, hearty voice from above the other two, belonging to Kaiju at the wheel, "you know those people will be in need."
Mako furrowed his brow, and snorted at the comment. As if The Dread Pirate Mako would come to the defense and aid of a helpless village, that would ruin a reputation real quickly. Mako turned back to the prow, observing the town as it came to life seemingly all of a sudden, finally seeing a strange ship slowly coasting into their harbor. Ignoring the chuckling of his female shipmate, Mako turned back about, in his 'captain mode'.
"Tie those lines up, we're about to pull in, and Kaiju, be gentle this time, its a small ship remember?" Mako again ignored Jasala, a grin creeping accross her face. Why did women think it so funny when he was frustrated? Not bothering to fathom the reasons, he instead set about securing the lines, preparing to dock.
The Scimitar slowly coasted into the shallow harbor of the small fishing village, where three young men awaited the strangers’ arrival. The young man standing in the center of the trio was a tall, yet scraggly young man of at the most 18 years old. He had his arms crossed and eyes leveled at the incoming ship, the mop of red, curly hair atop his head setting the features into a typical scowl of a young man about that age. His two friends were nothing of exception, looking like usual Threshold fisherman’s kids, scraggly brown hair, tan, and only slightly well built. Mako tossed the heavy rope right into the redhead’s chest; after the shock, the young man decided he should attempt to salvage a catch of the rope.
“Be a good kid and tie that off for ol’ Mako will ya? Thanks.” Mako casually ordered the strange young man, without so much as meeting his eyes. The young man handed the rope off to one of his cronies standing to one side of him, and instead approached the Scimitar, calling up to Mako from the small pier.
“Not that I’m saying you are automatically unwelcome here stranger, which you might be; but, what business do you have here in Eyre?” questioned the young lad, “You might guess we don’t get many visitors.”
Already knowing it was coming, Mako turned his head about to meet Jasala’s gaze, which said all in one look: “Don’t say anything stupid.” Mako decided to comply, as he was even if she weren’t there, naturally.
“Well, you can’t eat off hardtack all month now can you? We just want some warm food, a few supplies and we’ll be off. I suppose I might let our more land locked members a little time off the sea too.” Mako chuckled at his own humor, which didn’t seem to be shared by anybody present. He decided to break the awkward silence that ensued with a resounding *thud* from the gangplank as he leveled it onto the dock. Mako sauntered on down it, taking it in just two, long strides, an amazing feat for his squat form.
“So, kid, where can you get a decent hot meal around this town, and why don’t you tell me your name, so I can stop calling you kid?” Mako probed, putting on his most derogatory tone of voice as possible.
“The name is Cen, Cen Brumagim,” the ‘kid’ had all the look of defiance in his eyes that Mako was already expecting. “and you can take yourself and your heathen friends out to eat over the edge of…” Cen was cut off by a harsh scream, coming from up the hill, in the middle of town, where all eyes were pointed in the next instant. Cen took one more look, a scowl, back at the crew, and then started sprinting up the hill, the crew of Luna’s Cutting Scimitar close on his heels.