Garret: Well, I think we need to find out where we are. *sighs* I think one or two of us should scout around a bit and see what they can find out. No sense is wandering aimlessly if we can avoid it. *looks at the others* I'll stay here. It'll probably be best. And no offense Taryn... but you kind of stand out so maybe Ira and Lisette?
Lisette: *nods* Yeah. Maybe we can find out where the closest clinic or hospital is. Anyone have any money? *she bites her lip in thought* Maybe we can get some clothes for Taryn too. At least footwear.
Ira: Money? *laughs before he can stop himself* Uh, that would be a no... I think I've got 17$ and 53 cents. *climbs down from the stack, having caught his breath again* But yeah, me'n the little lady can have a look 'round and hopefully find a map or transit or something.
Taryn: Uh... yeah... *stares down at her scaley toes, all rust and brown from the colour of the dirt* My feet don't hurt at all, these scales are better insulation than any shoes I've tried... but yeah... *colours again, hair tinging pink for a moment before fading back to brown* I stand out...
Garret: *reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He opens it and pulls out some bills* All the hard cash I have on me amounts to... *counts it out* ...about forty-five bucks. *hands it to Lisette* It's yours if you can make use of it. Don't go too far guys, it won't help to get lost. Just try and figure out where we are and get the general lay of the land. *looks at his watch* What do you think? A half-hour or so, then back here?
Lisette: *takes the money* If I see anything, I'll try and stretch the money as far as I can. *looks over Taryn* Any particular style? And size? *looks back at Garret* Half-hour? Okay... I don't have a watch, but I think I can judge thirty minutes okay without one.
Ira: *checks his watch* Sure, half an hour and we'll meet back here. We'll make sure to stick together so we don't get lost. *smiles, obviously tired, but still in good spirits*
Taryn: Don't worry about clothes for me right now. We don't have enough money between us... If only I had my wallet, I'd be able to buy myself something, so just concentrate on finding out where we are, and medical attention, okay? *sits down on the tarp next to the 'TARDIS' and smiles bravely*
Lisette: *nods* Okay... location and medical treatment. *looks over Taryn and Garret* Me and Mr. Personal Magnetism will be back soon. *glances to Ira* Come on Ira. *smiles*
Ira: *grins back at Lisette* Adventure time! *starts narrating in a cheesy comic book style* And our two brave heroes, Glowing Gal and Mr. Personal Magnetism, head off into the dangers of a suburban wasteland... Who knows what they'll find... *marches off with a purpose in a random direction*
Garret: Good luck you two. *sits down on the crates Ira had stacked up* How are you doing Taryn? *looks at her with concern* I know this isn't easy with me being injured and all...
Taryn: *waves them off, chuckling despite herself and shaking her head, then sighs, stretching out her scaley toes. At garret's question she looks up* I'm okay... I mean, my head is reeling, still. This has been a little weirder than I thought possible. But, it -is- nice to know I'm not the only one who's...a little different. Like I can be myself again... *exhales and smiles shyly* Anyway, you've been a great help, you know. We couldn't have gotten out of that place without your... skills. So, thank you.
Garret: *nods his head along with what Taryn was saying* It's a lot weirder than I though possible too. Remember, I didn't even know I have any "powers". *sighs, it still gives him a mild panic attack to think of himself as a superpowered person* But as for getting you guys out of there. I guess I just had to use m head. *smiles and wiggles his eyebrows*
Taryn: *laughs at his comments* Yeah, your head saved the day! *sobers a little, thinking about it* For me, it's been two and bit years since this started. It was gradual at first, I actually went to my doctor at first, thought I had a skin condition... *smiles wanly* But, if Ira's theory has any merit - if someone somehow brought us together... Why were we picked? I mean, if you didn't even know you -had- powers, then it couldn't have been a case of watching us and figuring it out and picking us up one by one... Something else is going on here. And to wind up in a sealed warehouse? what's that supposed to mean? It doesn't make sense to me...
Garret: *nods* None of this makes much sense to me. I never asked for any of this, nor did I want it. But here I am. I guess we'll all just have to roll with it until we stumble upon the answers or find our way back home. *he sighs, his head still swimming a bit* Not that I don't care for the company, you know, just... this is outside my comfort zone.
Taryn: Comfort zone, mn? *thinks about this a little, and shrugs herself, snuggling into Ira's big coat* I did freelance journalism back home. I'm used to reporting on the weird stories, not...y'know, being a part of them. *glances at him side-long* But, I... I -am- glad to have met you. Too bad it wasn't under better circumstances. *pauses a moment, chosing her words carefully* When we get out of here, and home, then what? I mean...these abilities won't just go away. What do you think you'll do?
Garret: *shrugs yet again* Well, depending on how long it takes to get back home, I might not have a job waiting any longer. Or a home come to think of it. I suppose I'll just do my best to start again. *half smiles at Taryn* As for my powers... well... I don't know. I wish I did. I wish I had some foolproof plan or some grand idea, but I don't. I have no idea what I'll do. *he shakes his head and lowers his gaze to his feet* I'm pretty sure I'll wanna stay in touch with you all... and yes, Ira included. I hear he saved me.
Taryn: *reaches out and places a warm hand on Garret's arm* It's really nice to be able to talk to someone else like me... er, you know what I mean. *grins sheepishly* We'll be fine, you know. You might have to get that bump looked at, but... you're strong, you'll be fine. As for Ira... yeah... an unorthadox hero, but he did end up being pretty helpful, when it came down to it. I thought he was a bit of a flake, but I guess he's okay, all things told. *leans back against a crate and tucks her legs up under her*
Garret: *he smiles as Taryn places her hand on his arm. He lays his own hand upon hers and looks her in the eyes* Thank you Taryn. I know what you mean. *his expression changes slightly* There is something I've been meaning to say. *pause* I'm sorry. When we first met, I was really freaked out and I over-reacted a bit. I'm sorry if I offended you. You've been my rock since then, helping keep us all sane. *smiles again* I appreciate it a lot.
Taryn: *smiles at the human contact, something she hasn't had a lot of in recent months* It's alright... I mean, what with circumstances... and my...well, my scales. I know they aren't very pretty to look at. Still, it's what's inside that counts, I think... I'm not offended and certainly not upset. For what it's worth, I think your...gill-things are really amazing. *smiles again*
Garret: *actually blushes* And forgiving too? Taryn, you're a saint. *he winks and chuckles* Truthfully, now that I've gotten over the initial shock, I think the scales are kind of... pretty. *he visibly weakens a bit and slumps ever so slightly, though he does give her hand a slight squeeze* As for my gill-things, I have no idea what they look like, but if you think they're cool, I guess I have to take your word for it.
Taryn: *laughs* Are you kidding? I finally find other people as different as me, you think I'm going to sabotage that because they were shocked at first? Don't be silly. *gently punches at his shoulder, but goes literally scarlet at his next comment* Er, you're making me go colours again... *clears her throat* They're... sort of like fingers, like rigid anenome cilia, they flare and have a sort of pearlescent shine to them. If I had my camera I'd take a picture for you. *laughs lightly*
Garret: I'd settle for a mirror and the ability to turn my head without nearly passing out. *he said it like a joke, but it strikes a little too close to true* I wonder if they've found anything yet? *changing the subject to avoid killing the mood further with his injury*
Taryn: *concentrates on filtering the scarlet out of her hair and scales and doesn't make comment on his injury, but instead squeezes his hand* I sure hope so. I mean, to be fair, it's a tough task. We've got nothing to go on, and no idea what's out there. I just hope there aren't patrol dogs. I hate dogs. *shudders and frowns a little*
Garret: I know. I hate not knowing. It bothers me plenty. *he sighs and smiles warmly again* At least the company is good. So I can't complain too much. I just wish I was in the air. *twists his face awkwardly* Not using my powers... in my helicopter. *looks around again, to see if anyone is returning yet* Not a dog lover huh? Cat person then?
Taryn: Helicopter? Wow, I'm impressed. My newsie friends tell me they're tougher to fly than planes. *smiles back warmly and shifts a little closer to him and gets comfortable* Uh, no, actually. I've never been a fan of anything that could get under my feet. I used to have fish, but they're hard to play with, so a few months back I got myself a bearded dragon. His name is Soloman. *laughs*
Garret: Yeah, they can be. Planes you point in one direction and go, pretty much, but a helicopter can move in all sorts of directions and hover. You need to make more corrections when flying one. *as she shuffles a bit closer, he moves his hand from off of hers and wraps it around her shoulder* Are you cold still? *smiles as she talks about her pet* I'm not surprised you like scaly pets. *laughs*
Taryn: *nods, burrowing into the coat a bit* Yeah, a little. I wish I had pants instead of your t-shirt-skirt, I gotta say. *chuckles and gratefully snuggles into his arm* I never used to like scaley pets, really. I used to think they were creepy. But, hey, I learned to appreciate them pretty fast. Did you know that their young is pretty much never raised by the parents, but grows up on its own, fending for itself? I find that very brave. I've tried to take a few cues in the last couple years from that. I think it's the only reason I didn't totally lose it when all this *wiggles her fingers, faintly scaled and clawed still* started happening.
Garret: *gives Taryn a hug-squeeze* That's pretty cool. So... *pauses, trying to think of a good way to ask this* ...does that mean you don't have any family, friends... boyfriend, missing you back home? *glances at his watch again, avoiding eye contact again*
Taryn: Well, I have co-workers, but being correspondance, I don't usually have to see them in person, y'know? As for my family... My mom and I don't talk much. She divorced my dad years back and moved us half-way across the country, my little brother and me. We never really forgave her. Dad got together with some new woman and started a new family that we aren't part of. I kinda...shut my friends out when this happened - it was too hard to trust them, to try to explain. So, it's been just me n' Soloman for a while now. I kind of joke that Sol's my man...but no... Haven't found anyone brave enough yet to handle a lizard girlfriend. *sighs and shuts her eyes, a little nervous for some reason*
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Meanwhile...
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Lisette: *chuckles despite herself and gives Ira a little punch to the shoulder* Glowing Gal? *walks off in the direction he's going as well* Sometimes I wonder about your sanity Ira. *still chuckling, though it trails off the further they get from Garret and Taryn* I'm following you.
Ira: Sanity? *ponders this* I'm plenty sane... I'm just a hopeless nerd, that's all. My ma always says I never grew up. *shrugs* If you're following me...then I say.... *looks about and notices another security cam* I say we go this way... *turns right down an aisle of storage containers*
Lisette: *following Ira but not trying to look like she's completely freaked out and lost. Just in case they bump into someone, she doesn't want to give them the wrong impression right off the start* So, are we looking to talk to people? Or just find a phone booth or something to tell us where we are first?
Ira: Uh... I hadn't really planned that far ahead. Let's see... *scratches at his sideburns* In the Adventures of the Mysterious Five they usually send Raven out to scout, with The Cloak shielding her from a covered area. She observes and then steals back to the rendevous point with gathered intelligence... But, *grins over his shoulder at Lisette* Seeing as neither of us can slip into shadow and fly and such, my game plan is to maybe find a sign, or a map, or a phone booth like you said. If we find someone else first, we can try to ask questions... but... *shrugs and gestures to the containment boxes around them* I somehow don't think we'd be welcome guests in a place like this. Best to be cautious, yeah? What do you think?
Lisette: *nods* You're right. Something tells me finding someone around here might raise more questions than we have answers for. Especially since we have no idea where we are. *keeps up to Ira, eyes peeled* Okay, so we're looking for maps, transit schedules, a discarded newspaper, something.
Ira: *grins and salutes* You gottit, Firecracker! *winks* Now, stay close and quiet and let's do this as quickly as we can - afterall, we said we'd meet them back there in a half-hour, and *glances at his watch* we've burned ten minutes already. *hunches up into his shoulders to try and lessen his height a bit and sneaks forward, glancing around a containment block and whispers back to her* Let's try going right...
Lisette: *glances at Ira as he hunches up and shakes her head* Stop being suspicious looking. You're gonna draw attention to us. *she may have been a meter maid before all of this started, but it was enough of a authority figure to get used to people trying to be deceptive* Right eh? *looks both right and left, seeing no real significant difference* Alright, but lets hurry. Like you said, we're running late as it is. We still have to get back as well.
Ira: Me, suspicious? *raises a comical eyebrow and stands upright again wiggling his fingers* But, I'm spooky ol' Ira, remember? I'm always the suspect. Anyhoo... *strides forward, glancing around for a poster or a newspaper or something with text on it* You see anything?
Lisette: *looks around, but doesn't see anything immediately* Nope. do you see anything?
Ira: *peers around a container on their left* Aha! lookee here... *points ahead and down a wider gap, possibly a dirt loading road* There's a fence down that way and a building behind it - probably the business end of this place. Lotsa cameras though... What'd you think? *chews his lip in thought and excitement*
Lisette: *looks to where Ira is talking about* Well... we've been on camera ever since we got off the roof, so they don't bother me anymore. *looks around at the other options* And it doesn't seem we have a whole lot of other options. We don't have time to screw around too much. I say we take our chances on the other side of the fence.
Ira: Oooh! The sparkly one has guts! I'm impressed, Lisette! Well then, you don't gotta convince me none, let's go! *and without further warning goes bolting off towards the gate, surprisingly fast for a skinny nerd, and leaps up at the chain link fence, grabbing it some seven feet off the ground and scrambles up and over with zero grace, but fairly good efficiency and drops down on the other side. He calls back to her* We are now, officially, tresspassing. I'm gonna head up to the building! *turns and takes off again*
Lisette: *stands there wide eyed for a half second as Ira runs off impulsively. She makes mental note to blow him up sometime. Just a little.* Ira! *she calls somewhere between a whisper and a shout then bolts off after him. It takes her longer to climb the fence, but she makes it to the other side, then hunts for Ira again* Ira? Where did you go you...
Ira: *ahead of her and out of sight, but not out of earshot, calls out to her* Over this way... Something's weird about this place, though, I gotta say... *the tone in his voice is a far cry from his usually light and jesting manner, and there at his feet is a guard - standard security type uniform, an empty holster and swollen wounds on his neck and collar*
Lisette: *follows the sound of Ira's voice, to find him and the downed guard* What did you do? *looks from the guard to Ira and back* And why?
Ira: Oh, hey now... This weren't me! *holds up his hands* I don't make lesions! *frowns back down at the guard* Though that means there's someone else here with this guy's gun. I don't like it. *squats suddenly* here, help me rifle his pockets, maybe he's got a wallet - driver's license or sommat...
Lisette: *looks around worried* Oh god... this just keeps getting worse. *starts to glow a bit, but bends to help Ira search the body* Is... is he dead?
Ira: I... I dunno. I'm no good with first aid stuffs, that seems to be Taryn's schtick. Whatever the case, let's do this quick and get out of here before someone get's the wrong idea... *finds a few coins, some keys and a pager and holds them out* What'd you get?
Lisette: *stops her searching and holds up what she found* I've got a Starbucks card and some hand sanitizer. No wallet. No I.D. At least none that I can find. *looks up and around* Don't guards usually work in pairs at least? Where is his partner? And what are they protecting?
Ira: Starbucks? Man, this guy has no taste at all. *offers a wry smile* Maybe whoever got the gun took the wallet too. With the coins left, I'd say whoever it was wasn't interested in rolling the guy... I mean, he's still got his watch and stuff. Maybe it was someone like us - teleported here and no idea where he is, eh? As for a partner... I haven't felt anyone else yet. *glances at her meaningfully* So, this one's a bust. We still don't know where we are. Suggestions?
Lisette: *frowns* How much time do we have left?
Ira: *glances at his watch* About 14 minutes left. You wanna head back and tell them what we found and I'll keep looking, or...? *stands up all of a sudden, turning to look the other way* Someone's coming. What do we do?
Lisette: *she started to ponder going back as Ira stayed and scouted more, until his revelation that someone was coming* Shit! *looks around for a place to hide, but she is still glowing a little as well* Umm... *doesn't like what she's thinking of doing, but desperate times* Hide! I'll distract whomever it is... then you get the drop on them. Don't hurt him... just in case.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Information Week - The Setting of Distant Star
The Setting of Distant Star
So, better late then never here's this week's post! Every so often there will be an oddball week where something different will be posted - anything from illustrations to informative blurbs to Q&As.
This week is fleshing out the setting of Distant Star, which follows Viira Kavan and Black Jack Finnegan as they try to sort out the mess that teleporting into foreign planets causes! Much of the logs will be taking place on, in, or around the Korinthian City Ship Stormseed. It is Captained by Viira who is both head of the military and equivalent to a queen aboard her ship. The planet itself is called Solum and will be discussed in later posts!
About the Korinthians
The Korinthians are a sea-faring people that live in and around massive ships called City Ships that are more or less like floating Capital Cities. There are currently seven of these ships and each one is accompanied by a fleet of smaller vessels which both defend and supply the larger ship. The culture is based primarily around maritime practices such as fishing, salvage, and piracy. Indeed a good portion of the goods that the Korinthians obtain is via piracy and they're rather infamous for their unparalleled skill on the Ocean.
Everyone aboard a City Ship pitches in whether they are a child or an elder. Most of the able-bodied young adults and adults man the fleets that tend the city ship with anywhere between 30-55% of the population out on the Shadows (smaller trade- and fishing- type vessels) or the Escorts (larger, armed vessels that both protect and engage in piracy). Newly assigned individuals, be they transfers from other ships or coming of age are posted to the Shadows, serve several years there and then are transferred to the Escorts where they again serve for several years, working their way up the ranking system of Korinthian society.
Due to their piracy and historical prejudices, Korinthians are generally disliked on the Continent and while there are no better naval mercenaries then these people, they are often treated as a double-edged sword and scapegoat. Many countries enjoy commerce with the Korinthians but only in so much as they provide rare and valuable goods both from the ocean and from booty obtained through piracy. There are those ports that are friendly to Korinthians but in general the attitude is on the suspicious side of neutral to openly hostile.
The people themselves are hardy, tough, and cunning and while magic doesn't run particularly strongly in their blood, they are not without their talents. Magic manifests itself in three primary ways: Bards, Oracles, and Shapers. Bards, through verbal means, are able to augment their surroundings, be it inspiring courage in their fellows or enchanting tools and objects for greater longevity, and are the most common of the Sparks. It is also for their skill with voice and music that Korinthian musicians enjoy both fame and infamy... and the reason that music can almost always be heard aboard a Korinthian vessel. Oracles are akin to shamans, they are born particularly sensitive to the ebb and flow of souls and Ley Energy to the point where they are often able to predict, quite accurately, the course of events. Oracles are not unique to the Korinthians, however, and are often the individuals that Leylines choose to make Avatars. Finally, the Shapers are individuals who are also in tune with the flow of Ley energy but are innately quite talented at bending said energy to manipulate the natural elements. Shapers are primarily female and are very important in the functioning of a City Ship, often enjoying a position of prestige. Shapers are able to make fresh water from sea water, track underwater occurrences such as currents or schools of fish, and manipulate the air (and to a certain degree, the weather).
The Stormseed
The Stormseed is the third of seven of the City Ships and is home to 1,063 people, enjoys the talents of both an Oracle and a Shaper, and was the vessel that first spotted Jack's The Good Ship Ptarmigan. City ships are unique in that they were built with the wood from a forest on the Southern Sub-continent called the Warren and have a double row of masts and twin hulls for stability. They are neither fast nor agile ships but they are armed and to take on a City Ship in naval combat is to also engage their accompanying fleet. Each of the City Ships is from a time in history when the Korinthian people were forced off the continent through war and subterfuge and are a testament to the glory the Korinthian Empire once enjoyed.
So, better late then never here's this week's post! Every so often there will be an oddball week where something different will be posted - anything from illustrations to informative blurbs to Q&As.
This week is fleshing out the setting of Distant Star, which follows Viira Kavan and Black Jack Finnegan as they try to sort out the mess that teleporting into foreign planets causes! Much of the logs will be taking place on, in, or around the Korinthian City Ship Stormseed. It is Captained by Viira who is both head of the military and equivalent to a queen aboard her ship. The planet itself is called Solum and will be discussed in later posts!
About the Korinthians
The Korinthians are a sea-faring people that live in and around massive ships called City Ships that are more or less like floating Capital Cities. There are currently seven of these ships and each one is accompanied by a fleet of smaller vessels which both defend and supply the larger ship. The culture is based primarily around maritime practices such as fishing, salvage, and piracy. Indeed a good portion of the goods that the Korinthians obtain is via piracy and they're rather infamous for their unparalleled skill on the Ocean.
Everyone aboard a City Ship pitches in whether they are a child or an elder. Most of the able-bodied young adults and adults man the fleets that tend the city ship with anywhere between 30-55% of the population out on the Shadows (smaller trade- and fishing- type vessels) or the Escorts (larger, armed vessels that both protect and engage in piracy). Newly assigned individuals, be they transfers from other ships or coming of age are posted to the Shadows, serve several years there and then are transferred to the Escorts where they again serve for several years, working their way up the ranking system of Korinthian society.
Due to their piracy and historical prejudices, Korinthians are generally disliked on the Continent and while there are no better naval mercenaries then these people, they are often treated as a double-edged sword and scapegoat. Many countries enjoy commerce with the Korinthians but only in so much as they provide rare and valuable goods both from the ocean and from booty obtained through piracy. There are those ports that are friendly to Korinthians but in general the attitude is on the suspicious side of neutral to openly hostile.
The people themselves are hardy, tough, and cunning and while magic doesn't run particularly strongly in their blood, they are not without their talents. Magic manifests itself in three primary ways: Bards, Oracles, and Shapers. Bards, through verbal means, are able to augment their surroundings, be it inspiring courage in their fellows or enchanting tools and objects for greater longevity, and are the most common of the Sparks. It is also for their skill with voice and music that Korinthian musicians enjoy both fame and infamy... and the reason that music can almost always be heard aboard a Korinthian vessel. Oracles are akin to shamans, they are born particularly sensitive to the ebb and flow of souls and Ley Energy to the point where they are often able to predict, quite accurately, the course of events. Oracles are not unique to the Korinthians, however, and are often the individuals that Leylines choose to make Avatars. Finally, the Shapers are individuals who are also in tune with the flow of Ley energy but are innately quite talented at bending said energy to manipulate the natural elements. Shapers are primarily female and are very important in the functioning of a City Ship, often enjoying a position of prestige. Shapers are able to make fresh water from sea water, track underwater occurrences such as currents or schools of fish, and manipulate the air (and to a certain degree, the weather).
The Stormseed
The Stormseed is the third of seven of the City Ships and is home to 1,063 people, enjoys the talents of both an Oracle and a Shaper, and was the vessel that first spotted Jack's The Good Ship Ptarmigan. City ships are unique in that they were built with the wood from a forest on the Southern Sub-continent called the Warren and have a double row of masts and twin hulls for stability. They are neither fast nor agile ships but they are armed and to take on a City Ship in naval combat is to also engage their accompanying fleet. Each of the City Ships is from a time in history when the Korinthian people were forced off the continent through war and subterfuge and are a testament to the glory the Korinthian Empire once enjoyed.
This is a general idea of what the Stormseed looks like
Click the image to see a larger version!
If you have questions or comments, please feel free to post!
Click the image to see a larger version!If you have questions or comments, please feel free to post!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Primal Crusades #2 - The Pub
Outside the shop, and down the side was Morgan's truck. It was the standard full sized Dodge Ram, paint a little chipped and body a bit dinged from heavy working, but chances were it ran perfectly. Probably even better than when it was on the showroom floor back in 1998. "Get in, smart ass. It's not locked."
"’Dear’, ‘ass’, ‘girl’... Man, you oughta be careful, or I'm gonna get the impression that you like me something hard, man." Seth was shaking his head as he got into the truck, scooting up onto the seat easily. "So, pub fair and a Were-waitress. This evening is turning out to look pretty good." He buckled his seatbelt and began drumming his fingers on the dash.
"So, you never did answer me... Why is it you don't hang with your own people?"
Morgan climbed into the truck, the whole things shifting to one side as he did, and adjusted his bulk into the seat. "Like you? I'd break you, stick man." He had no interest in men, but he also didn't balk at the normal homophobe jokes most men did. He knew who he was and what he was. "Yeah... Just watch yourself around her. She's a predator."
He fired up the truck and pulled it out of the shop-yard smoothly. They hit the road and it was a few more minutes before Morgan spoke again to respond to Seth. "Why?" He shrugged. "I'm not social."
"Aw, I feel the first flames burning...like napalm. Looks like you and I ain't got much romance to us, uhn? S'fine, I get enough love from my machines - and it seems so do you." He paused at Morgan's next comment. He shifted himself under the seatbelt strap and pursed his lips. "Look, I know I don't look like it, but I'm a predator too. I can deal. But, I gotta ask...she tough shit, or something? Is she gonna give me your share of sternum-thumpings?" Seth wasn't interested in men either, and perhaps because of his rampant heterosexuality, he was extremely comfortable jesting around. He'd won a fair few rounds of Gay Chicken with Reese and Mickey and Joel.
Morgan shook his head slowly and sighed. He knew he should explain before they got to the pub, about Moriah, but some sick little sadistic part of him wanted to see what would happen if Seth wasn't warned. After a few seconds deliberation, he decided to forewarn his new friend. "I don't mean predator by breed." He started, already he'd spoken more to Seth than he had to anyone else in a long time. "If she weren't a Were, she'd still be a predator." He didn't want to give the wrong impression, so he didn't go into details of what he meant. Moriah really was a good person, she just had some bad habits when it came to people. And if you knew what to watch for, you're fine. Something Morgan had to learn the hard way. "And yeah, she's a scrapper. She gets a thrill from it."
"Aw yeah?" Seth felt a little thrill of warning. That didn't bode well, really. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn't going to act on it. He just had a sneaking suspicion about this kind of Dame. He'd been in relationships with ones like that before. Hadn't gone too well. "I'll try'n keep my trap filled with food and maybe I won't get slapped about in something that ain't my battle."
"That might work." The bison replied, pulling into the parking lot of the pub. The Hunter's Moon was part pub, part restaurant, like most turned into these days. Originally owned by a Were, he'd heard, it now was under ownership by a family that had no idea about the wars outside their comfortable walls. Still, it was good food, big portions and relatively close. Lots of beer to choose from too, which Morgan liked. "We're here." He announced after parking and shutting the truck off.
"Good thing too, I could eat a horse." Seth quipped, getting out of the truck and swinging his arms over his head. "Let's go meet this viper of yours..." He added, unconsciously tightening the sleeves of his coveralls about his waist. He strode forward and opened the door of the Pub, and held it open for the other man. "Drivers first. After you..."
Morgan pulled himself from the truck and slammed the door shut behind him. He didn't lock the door because, well, who would steal the truck? It wasn't stylish or anything. Besides, if it did get stolen, he was sure he could find it again. And when he did, he'd use The Beast to run the thieves over. It needed a good test drive anyways.
"She's not a viper. She's an owl. And she might not even be working tonight." He knew she would be. He knew her schedule quite well. Funny how he only seemed to come in on nights she was working.
He walked past Seth and into the pub. The place was pretty standard. Lots of wood decor, pool tables, darts, pull tab machines here and there. Notched but well taken care of wooden tables. There was even several television screens displaying various sporting events distributed through the place. One of the guys behind the bar nodded to Morgan and he nodded back, heading for a table off to the side. He wedged himself into a chair and relaxed just a little, taking in the smell of beer and cheese and whatever else the kitchen had been cooking a lot of tonight. He didn't bother looking at a menu, he knew what was on it. Beside it was only two pages and one of those was just appetizers and finger-type foods. The other was mainly burgers and other pub fare.
Then he caught sight of her. Moriah. She was working just like he knew she would be. She in turn noticed him and with a sigh, made her way to the table. She was dressed primarily in black, as always, a combination of goth and punk. Dark hair with chunks of lighter and darker colour throughout. She wore a black skirt with silver safety pins over blood red tights. Her tall doc marten boots still gleamed glossy black in the moderate lighting. Her features were a little angular but pretty, although she never carried a warm expression. In fact she always looked like she was sizing up prey.
"Hey Moriah. Bring a pitcher." he told her when she got to the table.
"Yeah, the usual. And what about you? You want something to drink too?" She asked looking at Seth with a critical copper-coloured eye. Her tone was a bit cold, and it was clear she was only here for a paycheque. She gave the impression she'd rather be elsewhere but she wasn't. She was here and working. If they had been normal customers, she'd put on the facade of charm but they were Weres and she couldn't be bothered hiding who she was from them.
Seth let his eyes run up her as she approached - not checking her out like a patron at the bar was, but looking at her. She had a hard look to her, a frigid efficiency that obviously could turn nasty right-quick. Seth smiled easily and without even looking at the menu replied easily, in a voice that showed it was proving nothing, just easily confident. "Give me your best burger and a pint of whatever dark lager you'd recommend. Onion rings on the side, instead of fries, if you would." He eased himself back in his chair, hooking one boot up on the bar between the legs and rested his elbow against the armrests of the chair and had himself a good look around.
Morgan allowed Seth to order and then nodded to Moriah. "The usual." was all he had to say to place his food order. Moriah knew it. Heck, the cook was probably already starting it as soon as Morgan walked through the door. He was predictable when it came to food, but he knew what he liked and was fine with it. He always meant to change things up someday. He almost smiled as he pictured the look on Moriah's face if he ordered anything different. Then the realization that she really didn't care came creeping back.
"Surprise, surprise." She commented dully before turning on her heel and walking away from the table.
"Since you keep asking me why I don't run with a Crew, which Crew do you run with mainly?" Morgan asked plainly of Seth.
"My Crew? I thought it was obvious. I run with Mickey's. The only mother tough enough to run a bunch of our kind. He's a tough bastard, used to be a tough-guy champion, from rough places. He's lived in core New York, Johannesburg, Cairo." Seth shook his head. There were many more places Mickey'd been - or as he liked to put it 'lived through'. But Seth figured Morgan wasn't all that interested in the finer details. "Of our boys, we've got me, Tyler, Jaime, Joseph, and now little Topher. That's not mentioning the few regular boys we have who could take care of themselves easy - Rowan, Reese, Mickey himself, and Jason, fuck man, he's ex-military for chrissakes." Seth grinned, remembering good times with his crew. "We're a tough load of bastards, I'll tell ya. All good people...well, I dunno about Jason Trelly...he's something else entirely."
Morgan shrugged. He'd heard of only a few of the others Seth had mentioned and didn't even know some of those were Weres as well. Had he cared a bit more, he might have been embarrassed that he'd asked what was apparently a dumb question. Instead he just absorbed the information and filed it away in his brain in case he needed it sometime. It would likely fade away in a few days, to be replaced by some other tidbit of knowledge. Likely knowledge of a mechanical nature. Still, Seth's crew, or Mickey's technically, sounded like a hard bunch of guys. It was kind of comforting that they were out there fighting for their kind.
"You sound like a bunch of badasses." He commented before Moriah returned with the drinks. She deposited Seth's dark lager and a pitcher of ale for Morgan, then left without a word. Morgan watched her go, then resumed what he was saying. "Some Ed guy came by when I moved to town. Didn't like him much. Too intense for me."
Seth raised his glass to Moriah, but she just walked away. "Friendly..." He muttered to himself. He took a sip as Morgan started talking, smacking his lips appreciatively at the taste of it. "Good brew..." Another mutter. But when Morgan mentioned Ed, hell, how could Seth not snort? Seth had gone through Ed's brand of training back in basic training. It didn’t stick too well with him then either. Apparently Seth McGrath had too much of a problem with 'authority figures' to be a part of 'this man's army'. He shook his head. "Ed's Ed... I sincerely hope you ain't judging yer whole kind on that pisser? Ed's Crew is a bunch of tough people, sure, but they take the whole thing as serious as suicide bombers, man. I don't get along with hardly none of 'em. Mind ya, I try not to piss 'em off too bad, 'cuz they're good at what they do to be sure." Seth shook his head again and had another sip. "Seriously. If Ed was your first impression...Well, I hope I can make up for that." Seth half-bowed in his chair, the coyote grin on his face again.
The problem was, Ed was the first impression he'd gotten of the city's Were population. Try as he might not to, he had made judgments based on that encounter. Inside he knew that Ed was just one guy. He couldn't possibly be the master mould to all the local Weres, but Morgan just didn't have the desire to seek any others out after meeting Ed. Sad, but true.
"I'm sorry." he spouted. "If you trained under than Neanderthal, you have my sympathies." Morgan cracked a slight smile, but kept his Ed bashing comments low. Moriah was one of Ed's people. Tough as nails and about as unforgiving too.
He picked up the pitcher of ale like it was a giant stein and drank from it. Moriah had stopped bringing him a glass after the third or fourth time he'd ordered his super-sized beer. Not many other regulars looked twice anymore either.
"So, you think I should find a crew?" He asked, not really too keen on the idea but knowing having someone watch your back was always a good thing. "Maybe I'll join yours." He added in jest, though there was a spark of truth to it too.
Seth laughed aloud and clapped his hands, applauding Morgan's use of the pitcher. "Remind me never to get into a drinking contest with you, big man!" Seth was still chuckling to himself when Morgan made his quip about Ed. "Ah, yeah, I tried to join the army when I was 18... Didn't take. Ed's training reminded me too much of the army. It didn't take either. I had a look at what Dorian was teaching too, but it was a bit too mystical for this lil' brain to wrap 'round. I just do my own thing, fool about with Mickey now and then when I feel like getting my gears cleaned." Seth shook his head, remembering keenly the thud of getting his boss' fist in the jaw.
Then Morgan made his remark about joining a Crew and Seth grinned slyly at him, eyes squinting from his smile, sliding side-long like a fox to regard the bigger man. "You'd certainly be welcome with us, man. 20-pound sledge is welcome too." He full-out grinned then, two rows of white but crooked teeth. "Because, when nothing else is going down, we can at least talk shop and have a beer." He slapped the other lightly on the arm then, a friendly cuff to the bicep and wiggled his eyebrows as if daring the man to keep his word. "I'll take you ‘round anytime you feel up to it."
Morgan nodded. "Soon." That was all he said to Seth's invitation. He didn't know the others, but if they were like Seth, then he could manage to at least be social. Or as close as he got to social. It might not be so bad.
Moriah brought the food next. "Here you go. Burger, rings." She put the plate in front of Seth. The burger was large, on a Kaiser bun, with all the standard fixings and a whole basket of golden onion rings. It smelled good. "And pasta... as always." She handed the large bowl of pasta, heaped with a chunky vegetable sauce and a half loaf of French bread on the side. "One of these days, you'll order something less... lame." She sighed, shaking her head as she turned to leave again. Morgan either didn't notice, or didn't care.
"You're lucky. She's in a good mood tonight." He joked dryly as he started to eat.
Seth just grinned at him. He had no doubt that his Crew would be welcoming, and excited to have such a big, strong member to their team added. He'd spoken truthfully, after all.
Then the food came and he tucked into it, streaking juicy burger toppings down the corner of one side of his mouth and washing it down with beer. It was a good meal - surprisingly so for pub fair. He made a mental note to come here again, bring some of the guys down, play some pool... "Whut?" He managed through a full mouth of food. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not Morgan was joking about Moraiah but the comment made him a little nervous. Just a little...
He glanced around, trying to see where she'd gone off to.
Morgan shook off Seth's food-spraying question. "Nothing. I just meant Moriah tends to be a bit of a bitch, unless she's trying for a decent tip. She seems less abrasive tonight. That's all." Seth's reaction made Morgan laugh on the inside. It was almost like the coyote thought he meant Moriah had taken a liking to him. Whether she had or not, that wasn't what he'd meant. And he prayed that she hadn't actually. The men Moriah dated usually ended up hurt. Not emotionally, but physically. He'd smelled the blood from the marks she'd left on her last guy. He'd lasted a full week longer than most. Impressive for a normal human.
"After you're done." Morgan started after swallowing a mouthful of pasta and hunk of bread. "I'd like to see your shop, I think. Meet Mickey. Check things out, maybe." He took a long pull of ale from the pitcher to wash things down. "Okay with you?"
Seth nodded, a little reassured. He was glad she wasn't being overly bitchy tonight, as the personalities of servers made a huge difference to him for whether or not to support them. He glanced nonchalantly around, hoping that there might be other servers in the place, so that if he came in when she was in a foul mood, he might be able to dodge the bullet.
Then Morgan mentioned wanting to go 'round Mickey's, meet the crew. Seth grinned, scrubbing burger juice out of his goatee with a paper napkin. "You bet, chief. Likely won't be many o' us around at this hour, but Mickey lives in the shop, and there's usually one or two luckies that got roped into staying late." He had finished off his beer already, and was just on the last of his onion rings, so he wouldn't be much longer. He sucked the salt off his fingers and swigged back some complimentary water. He flicked a wrist, motioning to Moriah for the check as he polished off his onion rings. For such a wiry, small guy, he could scarf food away better and faster than most.
Morgan didn't wolf his food down like Seth did, but he did tend to eat large portions at a time. So a few moments after Moriah dropped the check, literally, off at the table, he chugged the last of the ale and was done too. "Gimme that." He responded, reaching for the check. "You wanna go back for your bike or go straight to Mickey's from here?"
"It depends, do you want me sleeping at yours or not?" Seth shot back, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. "I've got a place to sleep at Mickey's if need be, and a place to park the Gunner there where it won't be in anyone's way. Your call, chief."
Seth stood up, tightening his overalls around his waist and sliding the check across the table to Morgan. "Thanks for the date. Now I'll have to put out."
"I'll drive you back to my shop to get your bike." Morgan responded with a deadpan expression. "I don't take advantage of anyone on the first date." He winked at Seth then, a small grin appearing on his face. He was of course joking with the coyote. As stated earlier, he wasn't interested in men. "I'll follow you to Mickey's then."
He pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills onto the check tray and snatched a mint. It looked minute in his beefy hand. Then he stood up, pushing the chair back in with a scrape. "Let's go."
Seth barked an amused laugh in response and squinting through one eye grabbed a mint, squeezed it out of its wrapper, popped the candy into his mouth and left the plastic behind on the tray. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "After you, then. Thanks for the grub, and the tip 'bout this place." He sauntered towards the door and, turning from the hips, shouldered the heavy wood as he flung up the other hand in thanks to the staff. "Great food, guys! Thanks!!"
Then he pushed out into the night, still mild enough, but untied his coverall sleeves and shrugged them on, leaving the thing unsnapped to his waist. He stopped next to the passenger side door and waited for Morgan to unlock the door.
Morgan followed Seth out to the truck and, having not locked his side, climbed in. He hit the lock and opened the passenger side. Once Seth was in, he started her up and pulled out onto the road again. He wasn't all that talkative as they drove back to his shop. Maybe talking about mechanics and such to kill the time. Once back to Morgan's place, he unlocked the shop and opened the bay door so Seth could get his bike out, then locked everything up again. He did grab his twenty pound sledge though, and tossed it into the truck. Somehow, just knowing it was there made him more comfortable.
"Okay dogboy, lead on and remember I ain't as fast or maneuverable as you, yet."
"Oh, a'course, chief. I know you wanna get a good look at the Gunner's tail lights. ...Or my ass, whichever's prettier." He slipped an old, beat-up WWI vintage helmet on, with matching aerial goggles and swung one long leg over the machine. He slipped a key into the hood and righted it off the kickstand. He started her up with a smooth rumble and wheeled her forward a little. Then, hollering over the noise to Morgan, he yelled, "Tag! You're it!!"
Morgan climbed back into his truck and rolled the window down. "Just lead the way and stop being a smart alec." He gunned the engine of the truck, a rumble in its own right as he waited for Seth to get his bike on the road. "I'll be right behind yah, but I'm telling you now. I've seen better asses." He pulled his head back into the truck and cranked the radio back on. A little classic AC/DC echoed into the night as they hit the road.
Seth cackled another laugh, snapping the goggles into position over his eyes, grinning like a lunatic. "Never! A Smart ass is all I've got going for my boyish charm!" And then he kicked down onto the bike's seat, revving the gas with one hand and shifting into gear. His Gunner sped away in a streak of blue lights and gleaming tail pipe with surprisingly fluidity of motion for a machine its size. He turned on a dime and pulled out into the open road, heading back to Mickey's.
"’Dear’, ‘ass’, ‘girl’... Man, you oughta be careful, or I'm gonna get the impression that you like me something hard, man." Seth was shaking his head as he got into the truck, scooting up onto the seat easily. "So, pub fair and a Were-waitress. This evening is turning out to look pretty good." He buckled his seatbelt and began drumming his fingers on the dash.
"So, you never did answer me... Why is it you don't hang with your own people?"
Morgan climbed into the truck, the whole things shifting to one side as he did, and adjusted his bulk into the seat. "Like you? I'd break you, stick man." He had no interest in men, but he also didn't balk at the normal homophobe jokes most men did. He knew who he was and what he was. "Yeah... Just watch yourself around her. She's a predator."
He fired up the truck and pulled it out of the shop-yard smoothly. They hit the road and it was a few more minutes before Morgan spoke again to respond to Seth. "Why?" He shrugged. "I'm not social."
"Aw, I feel the first flames burning...like napalm. Looks like you and I ain't got much romance to us, uhn? S'fine, I get enough love from my machines - and it seems so do you." He paused at Morgan's next comment. He shifted himself under the seatbelt strap and pursed his lips. "Look, I know I don't look like it, but I'm a predator too. I can deal. But, I gotta ask...she tough shit, or something? Is she gonna give me your share of sternum-thumpings?" Seth wasn't interested in men either, and perhaps because of his rampant heterosexuality, he was extremely comfortable jesting around. He'd won a fair few rounds of Gay Chicken with Reese and Mickey and Joel.
Morgan shook his head slowly and sighed. He knew he should explain before they got to the pub, about Moriah, but some sick little sadistic part of him wanted to see what would happen if Seth wasn't warned. After a few seconds deliberation, he decided to forewarn his new friend. "I don't mean predator by breed." He started, already he'd spoken more to Seth than he had to anyone else in a long time. "If she weren't a Were, she'd still be a predator." He didn't want to give the wrong impression, so he didn't go into details of what he meant. Moriah really was a good person, she just had some bad habits when it came to people. And if you knew what to watch for, you're fine. Something Morgan had to learn the hard way. "And yeah, she's a scrapper. She gets a thrill from it."
"Aw yeah?" Seth felt a little thrill of warning. That didn't bode well, really. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn't going to act on it. He just had a sneaking suspicion about this kind of Dame. He'd been in relationships with ones like that before. Hadn't gone too well. "I'll try'n keep my trap filled with food and maybe I won't get slapped about in something that ain't my battle."
"That might work." The bison replied, pulling into the parking lot of the pub. The Hunter's Moon was part pub, part restaurant, like most turned into these days. Originally owned by a Were, he'd heard, it now was under ownership by a family that had no idea about the wars outside their comfortable walls. Still, it was good food, big portions and relatively close. Lots of beer to choose from too, which Morgan liked. "We're here." He announced after parking and shutting the truck off.
"Good thing too, I could eat a horse." Seth quipped, getting out of the truck and swinging his arms over his head. "Let's go meet this viper of yours..." He added, unconsciously tightening the sleeves of his coveralls about his waist. He strode forward and opened the door of the Pub, and held it open for the other man. "Drivers first. After you..."
Morgan pulled himself from the truck and slammed the door shut behind him. He didn't lock the door because, well, who would steal the truck? It wasn't stylish or anything. Besides, if it did get stolen, he was sure he could find it again. And when he did, he'd use The Beast to run the thieves over. It needed a good test drive anyways.
"She's not a viper. She's an owl. And she might not even be working tonight." He knew she would be. He knew her schedule quite well. Funny how he only seemed to come in on nights she was working.
He walked past Seth and into the pub. The place was pretty standard. Lots of wood decor, pool tables, darts, pull tab machines here and there. Notched but well taken care of wooden tables. There was even several television screens displaying various sporting events distributed through the place. One of the guys behind the bar nodded to Morgan and he nodded back, heading for a table off to the side. He wedged himself into a chair and relaxed just a little, taking in the smell of beer and cheese and whatever else the kitchen had been cooking a lot of tonight. He didn't bother looking at a menu, he knew what was on it. Beside it was only two pages and one of those was just appetizers and finger-type foods. The other was mainly burgers and other pub fare.
Then he caught sight of her. Moriah. She was working just like he knew she would be. She in turn noticed him and with a sigh, made her way to the table. She was dressed primarily in black, as always, a combination of goth and punk. Dark hair with chunks of lighter and darker colour throughout. She wore a black skirt with silver safety pins over blood red tights. Her tall doc marten boots still gleamed glossy black in the moderate lighting. Her features were a little angular but pretty, although she never carried a warm expression. In fact she always looked like she was sizing up prey.
"Hey Moriah. Bring a pitcher." he told her when she got to the table.
"Yeah, the usual. And what about you? You want something to drink too?" She asked looking at Seth with a critical copper-coloured eye. Her tone was a bit cold, and it was clear she was only here for a paycheque. She gave the impression she'd rather be elsewhere but she wasn't. She was here and working. If they had been normal customers, she'd put on the facade of charm but they were Weres and she couldn't be bothered hiding who she was from them.
Seth let his eyes run up her as she approached - not checking her out like a patron at the bar was, but looking at her. She had a hard look to her, a frigid efficiency that obviously could turn nasty right-quick. Seth smiled easily and without even looking at the menu replied easily, in a voice that showed it was proving nothing, just easily confident. "Give me your best burger and a pint of whatever dark lager you'd recommend. Onion rings on the side, instead of fries, if you would." He eased himself back in his chair, hooking one boot up on the bar between the legs and rested his elbow against the armrests of the chair and had himself a good look around.
Morgan allowed Seth to order and then nodded to Moriah. "The usual." was all he had to say to place his food order. Moriah knew it. Heck, the cook was probably already starting it as soon as Morgan walked through the door. He was predictable when it came to food, but he knew what he liked and was fine with it. He always meant to change things up someday. He almost smiled as he pictured the look on Moriah's face if he ordered anything different. Then the realization that she really didn't care came creeping back.
"Surprise, surprise." She commented dully before turning on her heel and walking away from the table.
"Since you keep asking me why I don't run with a Crew, which Crew do you run with mainly?" Morgan asked plainly of Seth.
"My Crew? I thought it was obvious. I run with Mickey's. The only mother tough enough to run a bunch of our kind. He's a tough bastard, used to be a tough-guy champion, from rough places. He's lived in core New York, Johannesburg, Cairo." Seth shook his head. There were many more places Mickey'd been - or as he liked to put it 'lived through'. But Seth figured Morgan wasn't all that interested in the finer details. "Of our boys, we've got me, Tyler, Jaime, Joseph, and now little Topher. That's not mentioning the few regular boys we have who could take care of themselves easy - Rowan, Reese, Mickey himself, and Jason, fuck man, he's ex-military for chrissakes." Seth grinned, remembering good times with his crew. "We're a tough load of bastards, I'll tell ya. All good people...well, I dunno about Jason Trelly...he's something else entirely."
Morgan shrugged. He'd heard of only a few of the others Seth had mentioned and didn't even know some of those were Weres as well. Had he cared a bit more, he might have been embarrassed that he'd asked what was apparently a dumb question. Instead he just absorbed the information and filed it away in his brain in case he needed it sometime. It would likely fade away in a few days, to be replaced by some other tidbit of knowledge. Likely knowledge of a mechanical nature. Still, Seth's crew, or Mickey's technically, sounded like a hard bunch of guys. It was kind of comforting that they were out there fighting for their kind.
"You sound like a bunch of badasses." He commented before Moriah returned with the drinks. She deposited Seth's dark lager and a pitcher of ale for Morgan, then left without a word. Morgan watched her go, then resumed what he was saying. "Some Ed guy came by when I moved to town. Didn't like him much. Too intense for me."
Seth raised his glass to Moriah, but she just walked away. "Friendly..." He muttered to himself. He took a sip as Morgan started talking, smacking his lips appreciatively at the taste of it. "Good brew..." Another mutter. But when Morgan mentioned Ed, hell, how could Seth not snort? Seth had gone through Ed's brand of training back in basic training. It didn’t stick too well with him then either. Apparently Seth McGrath had too much of a problem with 'authority figures' to be a part of 'this man's army'. He shook his head. "Ed's Ed... I sincerely hope you ain't judging yer whole kind on that pisser? Ed's Crew is a bunch of tough people, sure, but they take the whole thing as serious as suicide bombers, man. I don't get along with hardly none of 'em. Mind ya, I try not to piss 'em off too bad, 'cuz they're good at what they do to be sure." Seth shook his head again and had another sip. "Seriously. If Ed was your first impression...Well, I hope I can make up for that." Seth half-bowed in his chair, the coyote grin on his face again.
The problem was, Ed was the first impression he'd gotten of the city's Were population. Try as he might not to, he had made judgments based on that encounter. Inside he knew that Ed was just one guy. He couldn't possibly be the master mould to all the local Weres, but Morgan just didn't have the desire to seek any others out after meeting Ed. Sad, but true.
"I'm sorry." he spouted. "If you trained under than Neanderthal, you have my sympathies." Morgan cracked a slight smile, but kept his Ed bashing comments low. Moriah was one of Ed's people. Tough as nails and about as unforgiving too.
He picked up the pitcher of ale like it was a giant stein and drank from it. Moriah had stopped bringing him a glass after the third or fourth time he'd ordered his super-sized beer. Not many other regulars looked twice anymore either.
"So, you think I should find a crew?" He asked, not really too keen on the idea but knowing having someone watch your back was always a good thing. "Maybe I'll join yours." He added in jest, though there was a spark of truth to it too.
Seth laughed aloud and clapped his hands, applauding Morgan's use of the pitcher. "Remind me never to get into a drinking contest with you, big man!" Seth was still chuckling to himself when Morgan made his quip about Ed. "Ah, yeah, I tried to join the army when I was 18... Didn't take. Ed's training reminded me too much of the army. It didn't take either. I had a look at what Dorian was teaching too, but it was a bit too mystical for this lil' brain to wrap 'round. I just do my own thing, fool about with Mickey now and then when I feel like getting my gears cleaned." Seth shook his head, remembering keenly the thud of getting his boss' fist in the jaw.
Then Morgan made his remark about joining a Crew and Seth grinned slyly at him, eyes squinting from his smile, sliding side-long like a fox to regard the bigger man. "You'd certainly be welcome with us, man. 20-pound sledge is welcome too." He full-out grinned then, two rows of white but crooked teeth. "Because, when nothing else is going down, we can at least talk shop and have a beer." He slapped the other lightly on the arm then, a friendly cuff to the bicep and wiggled his eyebrows as if daring the man to keep his word. "I'll take you ‘round anytime you feel up to it."
Morgan nodded. "Soon." That was all he said to Seth's invitation. He didn't know the others, but if they were like Seth, then he could manage to at least be social. Or as close as he got to social. It might not be so bad.
Moriah brought the food next. "Here you go. Burger, rings." She put the plate in front of Seth. The burger was large, on a Kaiser bun, with all the standard fixings and a whole basket of golden onion rings. It smelled good. "And pasta... as always." She handed the large bowl of pasta, heaped with a chunky vegetable sauce and a half loaf of French bread on the side. "One of these days, you'll order something less... lame." She sighed, shaking her head as she turned to leave again. Morgan either didn't notice, or didn't care.
"You're lucky. She's in a good mood tonight." He joked dryly as he started to eat.
Seth just grinned at him. He had no doubt that his Crew would be welcoming, and excited to have such a big, strong member to their team added. He'd spoken truthfully, after all.
Then the food came and he tucked into it, streaking juicy burger toppings down the corner of one side of his mouth and washing it down with beer. It was a good meal - surprisingly so for pub fair. He made a mental note to come here again, bring some of the guys down, play some pool... "Whut?" He managed through a full mouth of food. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not Morgan was joking about Moraiah but the comment made him a little nervous. Just a little...
He glanced around, trying to see where she'd gone off to.
Morgan shook off Seth's food-spraying question. "Nothing. I just meant Moriah tends to be a bit of a bitch, unless she's trying for a decent tip. She seems less abrasive tonight. That's all." Seth's reaction made Morgan laugh on the inside. It was almost like the coyote thought he meant Moriah had taken a liking to him. Whether she had or not, that wasn't what he'd meant. And he prayed that she hadn't actually. The men Moriah dated usually ended up hurt. Not emotionally, but physically. He'd smelled the blood from the marks she'd left on her last guy. He'd lasted a full week longer than most. Impressive for a normal human.
"After you're done." Morgan started after swallowing a mouthful of pasta and hunk of bread. "I'd like to see your shop, I think. Meet Mickey. Check things out, maybe." He took a long pull of ale from the pitcher to wash things down. "Okay with you?"
Seth nodded, a little reassured. He was glad she wasn't being overly bitchy tonight, as the personalities of servers made a huge difference to him for whether or not to support them. He glanced nonchalantly around, hoping that there might be other servers in the place, so that if he came in when she was in a foul mood, he might be able to dodge the bullet.
Then Morgan mentioned wanting to go 'round Mickey's, meet the crew. Seth grinned, scrubbing burger juice out of his goatee with a paper napkin. "You bet, chief. Likely won't be many o' us around at this hour, but Mickey lives in the shop, and there's usually one or two luckies that got roped into staying late." He had finished off his beer already, and was just on the last of his onion rings, so he wouldn't be much longer. He sucked the salt off his fingers and swigged back some complimentary water. He flicked a wrist, motioning to Moriah for the check as he polished off his onion rings. For such a wiry, small guy, he could scarf food away better and faster than most.
Morgan didn't wolf his food down like Seth did, but he did tend to eat large portions at a time. So a few moments after Moriah dropped the check, literally, off at the table, he chugged the last of the ale and was done too. "Gimme that." He responded, reaching for the check. "You wanna go back for your bike or go straight to Mickey's from here?"
"It depends, do you want me sleeping at yours or not?" Seth shot back, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. "I've got a place to sleep at Mickey's if need be, and a place to park the Gunner there where it won't be in anyone's way. Your call, chief."
Seth stood up, tightening his overalls around his waist and sliding the check across the table to Morgan. "Thanks for the date. Now I'll have to put out."
"I'll drive you back to my shop to get your bike." Morgan responded with a deadpan expression. "I don't take advantage of anyone on the first date." He winked at Seth then, a small grin appearing on his face. He was of course joking with the coyote. As stated earlier, he wasn't interested in men. "I'll follow you to Mickey's then."
He pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills onto the check tray and snatched a mint. It looked minute in his beefy hand. Then he stood up, pushing the chair back in with a scrape. "Let's go."
Seth barked an amused laugh in response and squinting through one eye grabbed a mint, squeezed it out of its wrapper, popped the candy into his mouth and left the plastic behind on the tray. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "After you, then. Thanks for the grub, and the tip 'bout this place." He sauntered towards the door and, turning from the hips, shouldered the heavy wood as he flung up the other hand in thanks to the staff. "Great food, guys! Thanks!!"
Then he pushed out into the night, still mild enough, but untied his coverall sleeves and shrugged them on, leaving the thing unsnapped to his waist. He stopped next to the passenger side door and waited for Morgan to unlock the door.
Morgan followed Seth out to the truck and, having not locked his side, climbed in. He hit the lock and opened the passenger side. Once Seth was in, he started her up and pulled out onto the road again. He wasn't all that talkative as they drove back to his shop. Maybe talking about mechanics and such to kill the time. Once back to Morgan's place, he unlocked the shop and opened the bay door so Seth could get his bike out, then locked everything up again. He did grab his twenty pound sledge though, and tossed it into the truck. Somehow, just knowing it was there made him more comfortable.
"Okay dogboy, lead on and remember I ain't as fast or maneuverable as you, yet."
"Oh, a'course, chief. I know you wanna get a good look at the Gunner's tail lights. ...Or my ass, whichever's prettier." He slipped an old, beat-up WWI vintage helmet on, with matching aerial goggles and swung one long leg over the machine. He slipped a key into the hood and righted it off the kickstand. He started her up with a smooth rumble and wheeled her forward a little. Then, hollering over the noise to Morgan, he yelled, "Tag! You're it!!"
Morgan climbed back into his truck and rolled the window down. "Just lead the way and stop being a smart alec." He gunned the engine of the truck, a rumble in its own right as he waited for Seth to get his bike on the road. "I'll be right behind yah, but I'm telling you now. I've seen better asses." He pulled his head back into the truck and cranked the radio back on. A little classic AC/DC echoed into the night as they hit the road.
Seth cackled another laugh, snapping the goggles into position over his eyes, grinning like a lunatic. "Never! A Smart ass is all I've got going for my boyish charm!" And then he kicked down onto the bike's seat, revving the gas with one hand and shifting into gear. His Gunner sped away in a streak of blue lights and gleaming tail pipe with surprisingly fluidity of motion for a machine its size. He turned on a dime and pulled out into the open road, heading back to Mickey's.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Distant Star - Log 02 - Tea Time
Distant Star - Log 02 - Tea Time
Viira arched a brow at that, "A lady's man, hrm? Good to know that, at least, stays the same across worlds." She laughed, amazed at this turn of events, "You keep some strange company Jack and harbor stranger tales. I should like to hear them - we love the story tradition." The Captain scratched her face, fingers bumping along her scar as she regarded him, "I think a 'Ship of Dreams' is in the eye of the beholder, much like beauty, my friend. I, for example, Captain one such dream ship. Storm Seed's reliable, prosperous, and peaceful. There's not much more you could ask for then that." She spoke of her own ship with pride as well. Rising then, she padded over to the door and paused, the sighed, "Spirits, boys. If you don't remove your ears, I'm going to do it for you." The scuffle of feet outside the door answered her words as a pair of youths scuttled around to the other side of a potted tree, Viira shook her head as she opened it wide, "Would you like more appropriate quarters, Jack, since you'll be our guest? And don't mind these two. If they get in your way, just pinch their ears." She smiled at them fondly. "Get. Go see what Merkesh wants of you today."
"Lady's man, man's man, man-about-town." Jack replied, with a faint tone of exasperation. "I have never met such a lascivious man in my years - and they have been many. Nor a more jealous man. Ah, the royals. They do as the please, it seems." Jack stood, shaking his head and stretched. "Ah, Ship of Dream, Ship of Dreams, she travels where there is Aether - and that is everywhere, Captain - of her own accord and no one else's. To step outside the binding laws of the Berths is a blessing indeed. Does, however, make many a man want their greedy mitts at the helm, mark me." He turned to regard her face on, shoulders slumped even when standing, eyes half-lidded. "You ship looks shape enough, ma'am, but a tad too large for the likes o' me. I'm a simple man, all things wanting, and all I need is a home in the stars..." He trailed off as if that were not -quite- all he wanted, but did not elaborate. Viira then turned on a couple of eavesdroppers and Jack shrugged a shoulder towards them, hands slipping into his deep pockets. "See, that there, s'why I don't keep crew in the flesh. I can tell a tale or two - never had a tongue for makin' them silver, but if you've an ear to listen, I'll talk."
"Remember my world is not yours. These eyes have not seen a star up close, only navigated by their light alone. I've never even flown." She smiled, reminding him that she knew not the rules and bounds of the places he called home. She was Korinthian not Star-Farer. "If I planned to speak to you of things that could brook no eavesdropping, I'd have interviewed you in my personal office." She replied, a glimmer of mirth in her eyes. This had been a test and he had passed well enough. "Then we shall talk. It's near time for the midday repast, I believe, would you like to join me after we get you settled?" She'd noted the way he'd trailed off but hadn't pressed, figuring if he wanted to talk, he'd talk - he didn't strike her as the type to easily bow before pressure, friendly or not. Viira stepped out into the sunlight then and waited on him, head tilted to the side expectantly.
Jack shrugged. "I can stay in your quarters, if you'd like it, I don't need much - so long as I have access to The Good Ship Ptarmigan, when I need it." He paused, and stepping out through the door looked at her with a sidelong glance. "Would you, uh...like to see her? Step in and have a gander at some point?" He tapped a boot toe against the wood of the deck and then stepped up flush with her. "I'll join you, if there's an invitation to do so." He looked her straight in the face, eyes clear for a moment, the hoodedness and drooped lids lifted for a moment. His were the tumultuous grey of storm clouds, piecing as a hawk's old as dust.
Viira shot him a sidelong glance, wondering if he meant that as a smooth line or an earnest remark... or both, and shook her head, "I'm sorry but I share my quarters with none. I'm sure you understand, but access to Ptarmigan is available - though you'll have to figure out a way to get there if you're not fond of shimmying along lines." The Captain nodded at his invite, "That would be appreciated, I'm curious to see what sorts of things you've got hidden away in there. Is it all metal and glass?" She frowned a little, certain such an environment would be difficult to tolerate let alone live in. When he met her gaze, hazel eyes did not look away and held his with the easy confidence borne of self and station, "There is indeed an invitation. This way." She gestured for him to follow her as she started towards a flight of stairs wide enough seven men could walk abreast. The governing body's quarters and meal rooms were located on the upper decks, close to work stations. The officers they passed all saluted her as she passed and she smiled or nodded to each of them. Finally she stopped before an empty room and opened the door into spacious quarters. "This is where you’ll sleep, I think, there is a wash basin, a mirror, a chest of drawers - it's bolted down, don't try to move it - and a bed near the window. This high up, you're afforded a pleasant view." She stepped in to inspect it, then turned her appraising gaze on Jack, "This is the Officer's Wing, three levels below the Bridge. My quarters are in the level above, along with my Second's. If you need anything, ask one of the Officers and if it's pressing, send word to me directly."
Jack's eyes grew a tad wide at her response and he opened his mouth for a moment, at a loss for words. "Your...your as in your ship, Cap'n, not your personal quarters." Jack was silent for a moment and then he added, quietly but very clearly, eyes lowered. "I am not an unfaithful sort of man." He cleared his throat, his posture unintentionally straightened, before he hunched back into himself and followed in her footsteps. He pushed a hand into his hair and replied, a wry tone in his voice. "I can promise I won't be showin' you what's hidden away, but you'll see her organs and works. And no, she's made of metal and wood and velvet and glass and gas and clockwork...and who knows what all else. A fine houseboat, she is..." He trailed off as they arrived at the room he'd be occupying. He stepped in, hands still in pockets, and slowly, in bow-legged clumsy steps turned about in a circle looking around. "Not much different from my own quarters, a'tall, Cap'n. Much obliged." He turned his head towards her, the rest of him facing the window. "How long have I until tea?" He asked curiously.
Viira had chuckled at that, strangely amused by the reaction her words had garnered, "Nor am I. Relax sailor. Secrets and more secrets. We all have them; I suppose I'll make do with the wonders of a levitating boat." She quipped, far more interested in the ship itself then in digging in to his personal treasures. At the question, she leaned over a bit to eye the sun's position and shrugged, “Half a candlemark or so - it won't be long. I doubt we’ll have tea, however... I'll see if the cook's got some stashed somewhere. It's a luxury, you see. Doesn't keep well in the sea air and water's too precious to waste on vanities like that." Viira glanced at the ceiling as she tried to recall the last report regarding supplies and stores but couldn't remember anything about tea.
Jack grinned at that. "Tea, as in the evening meal, not the beverage. Mind you, I wouldn't say no to a good cuppa. Shall I bring some over from the Ptarmigan and some fresh water for you? I have a few barrels I won't miss. Passed close enough to a comet a month or so ago that I've got plenty." He grinned again, a crooked, rakish expression that made him look decades younger. "How's that for a contribution to the evening meal?"
She blinked, "You have tea? And water to spare?" In a society of sailors and a world short on fresh water, such a gesture was hardly the kind of thing she expected. Some would fight over a barrel or two. Still, she wasn't about to naysay a gift and nodded, eyes alight with simple pleasures, "I think that would be a grand introduction, if you don't mind brewing some for the staff. And evening meals are always taken when the sun touches the horizon, so you've nearly half a day yet. Morning meals are taken when the watch bell tolls six." The latter was added after a moment's thought. Tea would certainly be a treat - she couldn't remember the last time she had a cup.
Jack nodded absent-mindedly, fishing about in his pocket. "I'll need to bring over my Tea Service then, one mo..." And without ado he produced a skeletal chartreuse glass lantern many times too big to have fit in his pocket. From the other pocket he produced a small assortment of glass vials, and after a moment's inspection of them, selected one which he screwed into the top of the lantern and put the rest back into his pocket. The Lantern sprang to brilliant light and he gave a quick, proper salute to the captain and cranked the handle on the lantern. The chartreuse light grew, filling the room to a point of painful brightness, then it faded away again to reveal Jack unscrewing the now glowing vial which he popped back into his pocket, and replaced it with a separate vial already alight. He screwed this one into place and cranked the handle again. A repeat of the brilliant light, but this time, when it faded, Jack was gone.
"Wait. What did you mean comet?" As far as she knew, those were burning streaks of light and nothing more. But before she could have an answer, Jack had pulled a lantern from somewhere, confusing the Captain since she'd not seen where he'd stashed such a large object - or the vials - and with a couple flashes was gone. Left standing in the room stunned, it took a moment for her shake herself into action and strode out the door with long, purposeful steps to look one way then another. A few people were already half running towards her - they'd seen the flashes - and paused in confusion as Viira looked past them then asked if they'd seen Jack pass by. Cursing under her breath, the Captain ran a hand through her mane of hair and sighed, tucking that knowledge away for later. Jack appeared to be some sort of mage as well... and she didn't trust them. The only magic-wielding individual she spent any amount of time with was the ship's Shaper. Eyes narrowed, she set a guard on the door and padded away, headed back up to the Bridge where she'd better be able to direct things, starting with a sweep to locate Jack.
A moment after he'd disappeared Jack flashed back into existence, in the room he'd been assigned, and with him, was a full Tea Service trolley with enough porcelain cups and tea and a massive silver teapot to serve twenty men. He had two oak barrels of water on either side of his legs and a rather self-pleased grin in place - which fell a moment later when he found the Captain had left the room. "Where in Mystic's Blood did she get to so damn fast... I'd hoped she'd've had more curiosity than that...." Jack muttered half aloud under his breath. He shook his head, and holding the lantern aloft again cranked the handle to refill the vial he'd just emptied using it.
The guard at the door yelped and stumbled backward, sword half drawn before he registered Jack not with weapons or allies but with... a Tea Trolley....? Utterly baffled, the man shoved the sword home and stepped forward to eye Jack with an incredulous look, "Aah, Jack, I presume? The Cap'n went to the Bridge to organize a search. If you'll come with me?" Not entirely sure what else he was supposed to do with a tea toting guest who could teleport, it was the best thing he could come up with. Up the Bridge, Viira sat in her chair with a look of frustration. Reports had come back with no one sighting the visitor, leaving her to wonder where he'd gotten to in a flash, without anyone noticing. Drumming gloved hands against the smooth carved wood of the Captain's Chair, she waited for the notice that the search had begun on levels one through five when one of the communications pipes buzzed with something about a tea trolley and the missing man being found in his room. "... What?" She asked, exasperated, rising to go tap out her own communication with a short 'get up here now'. The sailor stepped away from the panel he'd buzzed the Morse code in to and frowned, "You're in trouble. Captain wants you on the Bridge ASAP. I'd take the tea, sir." Shaking his head, he started towards the ramps that lead up past the Captain's Quarters to the Bridge itself.
Jack nodded when his name was said, but raised an eyebrow as the man continued. "A Search? Blood! I said I'd only be a moment..." he grunted, shaking his head. He stuffed the lantern back into his pocket, where it impossibly disappeared. "In trouble! In trouble, I ask you? The man who comes bearing gifts of water and tea, and its trouble he gets, is it..." Jack was more amused than he was letting on, really. But he found their reaction just a little over the top. He'd been gone less than a minute, and everyone was combing the ship for him? Really? Well, to be fair... No, thinking back on other situations he'd been in, this wouldn't be the first time....but still, it was hilarious. He watched the sailor rumbling along his dainty tea trolley as if it were a suspect and pointed to the barrels.” Oi! What should I do with these?"
"Ah, I'll get them..." He replied, quickly bending to heft one then the other to his shoulders as if that were the norm, "Where'd you go? If you don't mind my asking... Cap'n seemed right confused. You a magi?" The last was said with a bit of an edge as the sailor padded along beside Jack. When they reached the Bridge, Viira was standing in front of the archway, arms crossed and posture tense. It eased some when she saw the barrels and heard the rumbling of the trolley but that was neither here nor there. "Jack," she nodded to dismiss the sailor then focused her attention on the Star-Farer, "Blinding your host is hardly good manners. What sorcery allowed that?" Behind her, the organization of the sweep was being called off by uncertain and half amused Officers and pondered over by the men who'd been mobilized then dismissed. What was with the Captain today? The tea, however, caught much notice and while the sailors were better trained then to outright gossip, more than one exchanged curious glances. It was hard to be suspicious of a man come bearing tea and whom the Captain had decided to grant passage to.... though the tea was quite the interesting bit. Wealthy men indeed carried such things.
Jack was pleased that the man managed to heft both barrels as if they were empty, and happily took the trolley in his stead. "I went to my ship to get my Tea Service." Jack replied, with a tone that stated this as the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm no magi..." He replied, though his tone was more one of reverence. "I collect treasures, man." He said this as if it explained everything – and to one from Jack's world and time period it would at least be the start of an explanation. He made his way up into the bridge and pushed the long trolley to a stop. He was further amused by her irate posture, and could not fully suppress a sardonic smirk. "Blinding? Ah.... forgot that it has that affect if you aren't holding onto it..." Jack murmured, half-aloud. "It's been a while since I had company in the presence of such things, Cap'n. An oversight, truly." He sketched a bow and then rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "As for sorcery, I don't believe it exists. I'm not sure what craft of Aether or Mystic art crafted it - I merely know how to use it. It captures a temporal place, Cap'n. When lighting up a vial, the lantern takes you to the location that light was captured from. The Terminus Lantern took me to my Ship, and the first flash you saw was me capturing enough light from my quarters to bring me back." He paused, stepped into a rather courtly pose, one foot forward, one hand tucked neatly into the small of his back, the other arm extended out beside him. "Here I am, in a moment's notice, as I had promised." He turned back to the trolley and lifted the silver hat of the teapot. "Tea anyone?"
Her frown deepened as he grinned and she arched a brow, the words that followed his apology a string of things that made little sense. You couldn't capture light in a vial and teleportation wasn't something a normal person was able to do. Grumbling, she waved him in, "Just be aware that the land-born magi are not welcome on my ship. They carry too much treachery with them." It was a subtle warning as she turned to face her ranking crew and found Merkesh with his hand raised already. She let out an exasperated sound and shook her head at him, "Really, Merkesh? Really?"
He shrugged, "If you were going to kick him off, you'd have done so without dragging him up here. We all know it Viira." The grin he wore was broad and handsome, as he strode up to meet Jack, "Well met. I am the Ship's Second, Merkesh." That he spoke to Viira by name rather than rank spoke volumes between them. He held out a hand in greeting.
Shaking her head, Viira regarded the rest of her crew with a 'might as well do this now' expression, "Everyone, this is Black Jack. He apparently finds this amusing, as does Merkesh. Tea's on him this evening - and now, if you fancy a cup." Not everyone stepped forward to give the odd man and his odd trolley a look-see but several did meander over, having followed Merkesh's lead. Viira stood to the side, watching, and pressed a gloved hand to her forehead. "Please don't let me regret this." She murmured, sensing adventure, if not chaos, was approaching swift as a squall.
"Markesh? The Assigner-of-tasks-for-eavesdroppers, if I'm not mistaken?" Jack queried, stepping up to offer a hand in greeting. "Black Jack Finnegan, Galaxy Lord of the Spheran Empire." He gave the man a swift look over, then turned to the trolley. He pulled the cork stopper out of one of the barrels and dipped what looked like an oversized dropper into the opening. "Right. How many of you are having Enterian Tea?"
"Ah, yes." Merkesh shook his head as he pumped the other's hand, "They ought to be scrubbing the galley's floor about now. And it's Merkesh - mrr-kesh, actually." Correcting the other's pronunciation, he then stepped aside to observe as well, "I would like a cup, if you please." Viira set a hand on her hip and watched as her Bridge was made into a Tea Party and couldn't help the laugh that rose, "You know, on any other ship this would get them all probation and yourself thrown in the brig." Her comments were addressed to both her Second and Jack as she stepped up to take a cup but Merkesh stayed her hand with a glance. He would try the tea first and if it was safe, she would drink. Simple. Reaching instead to look at the porcelain, a poor cover of her pause, Viira settled her gaze on Jack, "If you teleport again, or use some other strange device, inform me prior, hmn?"
Jack squirted the clean fresh water into the silver teapot and with an ornate tinderbox lit the wick beneath the pot. He measured out three heaping spoons of a wide-leaf, deep cinnamon brown tea that had a sweet, spicy aroma that filled up the air around them as soon as he opened the tin. He set this aside as the water boiled and prepped three saucers and teacups. He looked over his shoulder at them as he prepped the service. "This is Enterian tea, from my mother's homeland. Many, (myself included), consider this the best tea in the universe. I do hope you'll appreciate it." The water boiled and he hooded the flame, pouring the tea leaves into the pot, giving it a quick stir with a long wooden spoon and then capping it. He flipped a pocket watch our of his belt pouch and kept it in hand as he counted the minutes for preparation. "You'll forgive me Captain, as I'm not yet sure what all I own counts as a strange device in this world. I will however warn you before using one of the Trove, as they are unique, even where I'm from." He flashed a quick smile at them and then tucked the watch away and poured out a little tester tea into a small drain pan. Satisfied with the colour and scent, he then poured three cups, and lifted two of the saucers up for the Captain and her Second to take. "Lemon, sugar or honey?" He inquired with youthful gentlemanly airs.
"Lemon, if you will." Merkesh replied with a smile as he took the offered cup and quirked a brow, "The Trove? As in a treasure trove?" He sounded bemused, "A gold-hunting star-man, hrm? It's good to know such things span across worlds. We have our own treasures, but nothing that captures light and teleports you elsewhere."
Viira nodded her thanks as she took the cup and wrapped appreciative hands about the warm china, inhaling the fragrance with interest. It was a complex scent and she was sorely tempted to taste it immediately, despite the usual protocol. "Lemon for myself as well, thanks. And the warning would be appreciated - no searches or offensives will needlessly be mounted then." She smirked, "Rest assured, Jack, all your devices are strange here. Intriguing, but strange."
Jack grabbed a fresh lemon from a box on the bottom shelf of the trolley and pulling a dagger from his belt neatly halved it. He cleaned off the blade with a damp cloth and sheathed it before deftly squeezing a bit of juice out into each of the three cups, and then offered the two remaining halves to the Captain and her Second. "This is the best way to have it this time of day." Jack sipped his tea and closed his eyes for a moment to savour it. Then he addressed Merkesh and nodded. "What else have I got to look forward to in this life than to chase after the unattainable? After all, I have proved over the years that with enough resources and enough will the line between what is attainable and not is only a matter of time..." Jack swiveled his glance to Viira and grinned. "I did promise, did I not, that I would show you my home, and thereby some of these 'strange gadgets'?"
Merkesh nodded at that, "Aye, a matter of time and chance. Though for the like of us, time is unfortunately against us. Luck must truly be with you for you to claim such intimate knowledge of such things." The ship's Second fell quiet then, pondering some private thought.
The Captain, however, was paying rapt attention, amused by the interaction between the two men, "You did, I will not deny that. Regardless, they are still fantastical whether I know their form or purpose or not." She laughed lightly, "I told you, I am no mage, nor engineer. The mysteries of contraptions and conjuring are hardly my forte." She savoured the tea at last and smiled, addressing both Jack and Merkesh, "Well, you know your quarters and now the bridge. He wants to track leylines for... some sort of powering purpose... like wind in our sails if I understand properly. He'll be staying until he's found what he needs." She turned from Merkesh to Jack then, taking another sip, "When did you wish to begin? And you have something to track them, in addition to our charts, right?"
Jack shrugged one shoulder back and gritted his teeth for a moment. "Aaaye. I do have a device to that purpose... But it is a temperamental treasure, and I'm afraid its capriciousness is what brought me here... So, I dare not try and use it again - at least not for many years." Jack sipped more tea and stood up a little straighter. "Though, I too am no mage nor engineer, Cap'n. So, we are on an even keel, there." Jack pointed out amiably. "I should like to begin as soon as I may, as I do not wish to disrupt things here anymore than I already have. Shall we do the tour first or after I am powered and ready to fly?"
"Which would better suit a tour meant to inform?" She asked, having nodded at his point. "I am most curious to see what you mean by Universes." Merkesh smiled at that, knowing full well the Captain was sorely tempted but knew the ship would hold sway in her heart. It always did, work before play... it was how she operated. "There is nothing pending that requires the Captain's immediate attention - just the usual reports. If you can spare the time now, you should probably go about the tour." Viira nodded at that, "Aye, things do change quickly..." She pondered the offer a moment longer, "How long will the tour take?"
"It depends on how much I need to explain." Jack replied promptly and shrugged for good measure. "You tell me what's strange and not, ask what you wish to ask, I'll explain what I can." He drained his tea cup and placed the cup down on the trolley. "What, will you not be coming, Mrrrrrkesh?" Jack purred, amusedly.
"No, I'll not be coming. The tour is for the Captain and she can handle herself. The ship requires someone at the helm, after all." He arched a brow, expression mildly perturbed at the purring of his name.
Viira caught that look and laughed, patting his forearm as she turned to Jack, "He'll watch the ship. You couldn't ask for a better Second than Merkesh." She drained her cup as well and set it down as well, "It shall likely be a lengthy visit then, with all the wonders your ship holds. It would be best to begin sooner so as to end sooner, I think." Glancing briefly at Merkesh then addressing the crew, she called for a summary report and a chorus of information answered her, mostly regarding the status of Storm Seed's Shadows. Satisfied with the update, she started towards the door, "Well, let's see this ship of yours. She has a name?"
Jack gave a perfectly shapely military salute to Merkesh, spine briefly straitening to full height and proving him to be much taller and lankier than he puts on. He listened to the chorus of replies the Captain requested and then turned with her to head back to his ship. "She does indeed, The Good Ship Ptarmigan is her colours. I am proud of her." He replied, his voice warming unusually as he smiled.
"As you ought to be, she's a fine vessel." Viira was mildly surprised he hadn't pulled out some other gadget - Jack seemed fond of using his various gizmos - she glanced out a stern-facing window to where the Ptarmigan was lashed so she wouldn't be left behind. "Though I'm afraid we'll have to shimmy over there unless they've lashed the skiff in the stern dock as well." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. It was a fair distance to the water and she wondered if Jack ever actually worked in rigging or anything similar... the Ptarmigan lacked anything similar to what her own ships sported. Padding down around towards a spiraling staircase, she continued, "How long have you Captained her? You said you don't have a crew, that she is her own crew... you'll have to show me that. And I imagine it gets lonely if there's no one to keep you company."
Jack glanced at her sidelong. “I could take you with me on the Terminus Lantern if you'd rather, but I was just planning on summoning the skiff and sailing up to her. Which would you prefer? The Lantern will be faster." Jack paused in the hall, awaiting her choice. Neither mattered much to him. "And, I'm no Captain. The Ptarmigan is registered as my dwelling, not of any fleet, and thus I'm no captain. I have a military title, but my fleet is long since destroyed and I no longer have any standing with the Empire since my patroness is long-since dead." He paused at that, and looked around, before lowering his eyes. "It....does, get lonely. It has been a long time that I have sailed alone. But...there have been too many who wanted my ship's secrets, or into my Trove, or wanted to claim my hide as a prize of some bounty to the Ogruns..." He sighed softly, but deeply heartfelt. "It is...simpler, to be alone in my house."
"Ah, the skiff, if you would." The response was fast - she didn't trust the teleporting light device, "It's a house boat?" Surprise flavoured her words as she glanced at him, amused, "You travel the universes in a house boat?" She gestured at the ship around them then, and shrugged, "I belong to no military structure, or fleet. This is a city ship, not a vessel of war. A Captain among the Korinth is someone who's able and willing to lead such a ship. There is no patron backing a ship. It's a mobile city, of which I am.... the mayor, I suppose, would be the appropriate term. At least, that's what the land-born called their leaders last." She shrugged. Ranking varied from country to country here, it obviously did as well with Jack's people. She paused when he did, turning slightly to regard him, a quiet smile upon her lips, "I want neither bounty nor Trove, but I understand. If your enemies are many, the only one you can trust is yourself. A pirate's life is a hard one." She seemed to speak from experience, with the way her eyes sparkled with understanding and past deeds remembered, "There's a reason the Korinthians are infamous on the continent, both fortunately and unfortunately."
"Oo...Pirate's a bit of a strong word, ain't it?" Jack asked, wincing. "I don't plunder people's ships. The majority of the treasures I've collected were retrieved from deep hidden places in the wastes or stars... I can honestly say, I have never attacked a ship and then plundered it." These were true words, but the unspoken was that Jack much preferred to sneak aboard and away with as little fuss as possible. "To the Skiff, then... Lead on."
"Apologies." Viira said with a bit of a shrug, "I didn't mean to imply that. Piracy, here anyway, is anything from plundering ships to plundering ruins... be it by stealth or spectacle. Treasure Hunters, if you will." There was a rumble of frustration at the definition - something the people of the land clung to, branding all Korinthians as Pirates out of social stigma. She lead the way down the stairs, passing by portals that opened up onto various quarters, the smell of cooking meals soon tempting and strong as they passed the Bridge's Galley. She stopped to peek in for a moment, hiding in the shadows so she wouldn't attract attention, and grinned, "A treat. They seem to have procured sea serpent for this evening. One of the Shadows was lucky." The scent was spicy and exotic, promising intriguing flavours for the evening meal. Continuing on, they stepped out onto a deck midway up the stern of the city ship, a broad area a few decks below the galley. There was a rope railing strung along the edge and several thick lines were anchored to the various holdings that lead out to anchor points on the Ptarmigan - lines lashed in whatever way they could manage with a floating boat of alien design. And, as luck would have it, the skiff was also nearby, pulled onto the deck and fastened to its own anchor point. "There we are. Good." Padding over, she began to undo the lines. No one was around to question them, thankfully.
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