The Ambitious Hunt

[Rogue of Night]

Blake followed, her movements as if she were flying about the different ropes and masts, before she came to land on the deck. She waited for Kyle before proceeding to the Crew's Quarters.

Baron followed, making sure that Mogen wasn't far behind.

Ivel exhaled, nodding as he finished the last of the rum before tossing the bottle overboard. "Best to hide the evidence," he muttered, mimicking Levi's grin. He caught sight of Blake slipping beneath the deck grinning even more so, then proceeded after.

[Alzella]

In the crew’s quarters, Kyle bounced around as though sugar high. Nyx eventually stopped him with a well aimed whack to the head.

Mogen settled on top of the cleared card table. Knowingly, he winked at Sedna. She grinned vibrantly and gave him a thumbs up. Jack settled just underneath the table. He panted loudly and proudly. Zekiel twitched mildly at the sound.

Levi trailed after Ivel, deciding to hold his knife in his mouth by the blade while his hands relaxed in the pockets of his shorts. He moved with liquid undisturbed grace and easily dodged Celosia’s attempt to get a shirt on him once he entered the crew’s quarters.

“Now that the entire crew has deigned themselves worthy of this meeting,” Leif began, already utilizing the entire room in his elegant movements. “We shall begin.” He twirled abruptly, pointing at Blake. “Inform your fellow crewmembers of the delicious lore discovered at our last port.”

[Rogue of Night]

Baron just leaned against the wall, while Ivel took residence near a post in the middle of the spacious level.
Blake folded her arms across her chest. "I heard tale about the legendary Medallion while out and about in town, waiting for noon to come around so I could meet the lot of you. Well, it's not just a legend. I've heard that pieces of this legendary vessel have started washing up on an Island's shore, one which has been rumoured not to exist. I've seen the maps, and I've heard the information from a sailor whom was showing off a grand collection of ancient coins of gold and vases worth well over that of Lady Nightmare."
Charlie just snorted with disgust, shaking his head as he averted his gaze at his sister's rant.
"The Island is not two months from here, which means the ship and its bounty could easily belong to this crew. The only catch, is that there's tale of a Curse. No one knows if it's true or not, but so far, that sailor has seen not a telling of such a degrading."

[Alzella]

Mindlessly releasing the knife from his mouth, catching it, and beginning to twirl it, Levi’s emerald orbs narrowed in contemplation at the news Blake presented.
“Thus spewed from the pirate’s mouth, thus inherited by the Lady Nightmare,” Leif announced. He sauntered over to Levi’s still persona and tapped his head with the violin bow seemingly ever present in his hand. “Something eatin’ ye alive, lad?”
“I’ve heard of this tale.” Levi reported, unaffected by Leif’s odd pet names: a pirate gets used to the nicknames their oddball Captain will spit out. “Captain Anchorborn, as we all know, was ‘Lord of the Seven Seas’ and a feared pirate by many – up until the point when he, his crew, and the Medallion, his trustworthy ship, up and vanished. Many rumors have spouted about the lost ship since then. My sources have calculated, from the timing of its vanishing, aboard the Medallion is a net worth equivalent of $2,343,974,982,984.92. The island Blake mentioned is called Isla De La Plaga, not because of a plague rumored to afflict the island. Rather,” Levi flipped his knife casually, his eyelids lowered and a wicked twist to his grin, “For the thousands of ships to die on the island, for the lives mysteriously lost there and the odd noises emitting from island itself: nothing man could produce. The island is considered a plague in itself; it draws you in, and spits your bones back out.”
“How pleasantly put,” Leif murmured. “I trust you have more to tell, my dear knife loving lad.”
“Aye, Cap’tin,” Levi saluted lazily with his knife before droning onward, seemingly bored with the news he shared. “The Curse is called ‘Anchorborn’s Siege’ but what it actually results in is left up to the individual’s imagination.”
“Perhaps a siege of disease?” Celosia offered a worried glint to her cerulean orbs.
“Imaginations run wild,” Levi shrugged uncaringly. “The lovely two month trip to get there takes us through believed Kraken territory, Mermaid territory, or Siren territory depending on which side we approach from.”
“I vote for Mermaid territory!” Russell raised his rum glass. “Mermaids are always so dainty.” He grinned.
“We’d have to go through all three territories.” Levi retorted.
Zekiel snorted disbelieving. “Really? How?”
“The island is surrounded by rocks and mist. Only way to approach it is in a counterclockwise motion. Any other way and we sink. Lady Nightmare no more.”
Celosia’s worry expanded to a very visible frown.
“All this for $2,343,974,982,984.92?” She questioned.
“I’m in!” Kyle chirped, “You had me at ‘Isla De La Plaga.”
“Lots of gold is good for the soul,” Devon remarked.
“Adventures are what pirates thrive on.” Nikolai nodded. “And aren’t we all pirates?”
“Oh, no! Heavens nooo! I’m not a pirate!” Sedna shook her head. “I’m the Doctor.” She smiled cheerfully. This couldn’t help but earn a few chuckles,
“The island itself is said to grant an individual’s deepest desire.” Levi added once the laughter died down.
“Good luck granting mine.” Nyx smirked.
“Aye, death of all mankind, t’was it?” Leif agreed. “Rather difficult to grant.”
“Island’s power, not mine.” Levi responded, “Never said it was true: that’s why it’s a rumor.” He grinned wickedly.
That’s something people tended to forget about Levi: when he called something a ‘rumor,’ that meant, quite literally, it was a ‘rumor’ and only had a 25% chance of truth to it. Information he present that he did not attach the word rumor to was factual, period. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Levi was thorough with his sources and if he wasn’t, then his sources mysteriously disappeared, never to be heard from again.

[Rogue of Night]

This monologue caused Blake to frown, her seemingly importance forgotten immediately. With a sigh, she turned, no longer having a reason to be below deck, and she started up the stairs.
"Aye, where are you going?" inquired Sivatul.
"My work is finished, is it not?" inquired the English woman.
Sivatul shrugged. "That's for Leif to decide."
Blake ignored him, and continued up.

Ivel nodded at Levi's info. "Good on ya, mate. It took you long enough to produce this news. I imagine that's what that lovely intrigue about the tavern was then, aye?"
Caviesse just grinned. "Doom, death, destruction ... I believe I'm in."
"Captain, perhaps you should appoint a female navigator then, considering we'll be running through Siren territory," announced Evaren. "You men are bound to fall for their tricks and mischief."
"And someone else should be given the right to restrain said men when we get near enough," added Merrina.
"We won't fall victim to Sirens," insisted Konar, patting his monkey's fuzzy head.
"Oh, really? I do believe that if they start to sing, you haven't an option in the matter," replied Amelia.
"Either way, you're all doomed," Violet piped up.

[Alzella]

“You imagine correctly, partner,” Levi grinned, a wild glint to his eyes, “It’s a shame a’out the fight though. Never did get into a good one.”
Devon clapped a hand on his back. “That’s what the training’s for matey.”
“Training,” Leif appeared to remember something, “Devon, you shall find yourself tasked with teaching our youngest stowaway proper swordplay.”
Without glancing at the doorframe, Leif snapped his violin bow: it lodged partly into the framing, level with Blake’s head.
“I do believe Sivatul spoke truthfully: did I announce your duty complete? No.” Leif’s nose crinkled in elegant disapproval. “I dislike assumptions founded on lack of communication or listening skills. Now then,” He opened his arms, readdressing the entire crew in the smooth motion, “We are all up to speed, indeed? Indeed.” He nodded his head to Evaren and Merrina’s points. “Listen well to these new arrangements, for they are not fleeting. They are lasting. Caleb and Blake: First Mates. Should ill befall the Captain, that be’th I, Caleb inherits command. Should the male populous become incapable of so much as steering the ship, Blake inherits command. Vyrick and Tenaiya: Quartermasters. Keep the peace, restrain the rowdy, such and such.” Leif waved a hand flippantly. “Syri and Devon remain on Sedna duty. Syri, should the male populous react passionately to the whimsical sound a Siren produces, you are to report to Sedna. Caviesse and Merrina, upon Celosia’s command, may toss the lot of us in the prison hold.” This announcement clearly did not please the better half of the male population. But smartly, they held their tongues and tried their best to remember Celosia was a rational female pirate: she would only order their tossing into the prison hold if they’d become hazardous to their own lives.
“Kyle and Chloelia: the Crow’s Nest. You are our eyes and ears in this treacherous mist. Evaren, navigate when I am incapable of doing so.” All the while, Leif moved with aristocratic grace. He stopped beside Evaren, leveling stern autumn orange orbs on her own eyes. “I trust you to understand and treat Lady Nightmare’s helm with the utmost respect.” He waved his violin bow idly. “If so much as a scratch grazes her fine grain, I shall have your hair! All of it!” Leif announced dramatically. Abruptly, he wheeled around and continued to utilize the entirety of the room in his expressive communication. “Celosia, as we all known, remains Lady Nightmare’s communicator and everyone’s mother.” The joke earned a few chuckles. “Mogen continues to be our Chief Chef.” Leif considered the food expert for a moment. “But should ill befall our wondrous cook, Violet shall continue in his steed.”
Finally finished, Leif stopped, taking in the entire room filled with capable pirates in a calm languid autumn brown glance.
“Am I understood?”
Russell raised his rum glass, only half full now, and bravely asked the question plaguing everyone’s mind.
“Why Blake the First Mate? Tenaiya would be better; she is calm and experienced. We know her,” his opposing colored eyes, one molten gold and one blood red, flicked to Blake’s momentarily. “No offense, matey, but we know ye not.” Russell returned his gaze to Leif’s calm one.

[Alzella]

OOC: *breaks* I feel like my posts are getting longer and longer. *gives Emzy chance to rp her pirate characters before having Leif answer Russell's question*

[Rogue of Night]

ooc;; I love reading your creative capabilities though : )

bic;; Blake raised an eyebrow when she was appointed to be First-Mate with Caleb. "Yes, that is a question I would like answered as well."
Tenaiya, who stood aside, eyed Leif curiously. "What mischief do you hold behind this decision, Captain?"

[Alzella]

OOC: Aww, thank you Emzy. =)

“No mischief at all but proper reasoning and a logical foundation,” Leif assured. Lightly, he tapped Vyrick’s shoulder with his violin bow. “We know Vyrick’s character well, agreed? He is calm, resolute, and unchanging. His scar riddled exterior deceives us, portraying a fighter’s temperament and nature. But at the drop of a hat,” Leif dropped his own as demonstration. “You would be dead by his means. We know this and we know this well. Therefore, Vyrick keeps the peace well. But Vyrick is a horrible First Mate.” Leif nudge his hat onto his foot and gracefully flipped the object back onto his head. “Why, he would let Lady Nightmare sink without a care in the world and treasure slip through his fingers if it meant world peace.”
Vyrick shrugged indifferently. He minded not his flaws or whacked values being pointed out.
“Hence, Vyrick is the Quartermaster.” Leif moved with unmatched poise, coming to a halt beside Tenaiya. “As I understand, your character is much the same. You are calm, resolute, and unchanging. You keep secrets well and emanate calm. Therefore, you are best suited to Quartermaster.” He turned to tap Blake twice on the head with his violin bow. “But sources reveal you have commandeered a ship.”
Nikolai shot a surprised look at Blake. “She has? Why didn’t she say so?”
“More importantly,” Devon murmured. “Why did the Captain not say so?”
“The Captain felt no need.” Leif rumbled his eyes a dangerous autumn orange. Devon smartly leaned away. It was unwise to question the Captain’s reasoning. The fact that Russell had done so was bravery defined. “Now, I ask once more: Am I understood?” Leif took in the entire crew with a single arm opening just slightly, his movements no longer as expressive as before. “Or have I somehow failed to reassure your deepest concerns, my crew?”
“I’m reassured.” Sedna stated quickly. “Utterly reassured. Completely.” She nodded rapidly while inching over to hide half behind Syri.
Russell kept his form relaxed and languid, still seated in his chair.
“If Blake has prior experience,” he raised his mug to her, “And the Captain trusts her to command a ship well in an emergency,” he nodded to Leif. “Then I trust our newest matey to do so.” Meaningfully, he murmured before taking another swing of rum, “I trust the Captain’s word, as always.”

OOC: I rather like Leif’s character. It’s subtle and typically cheery, with fancy words and such, but he takes the trust given to him seriously, and expects loyalty always. In return, he’s fair and keeps his crew alive. I doubt Devon will survive. *grins wickedly*

[Alzella]

OOC: I take forever to respond, don't I? It would probably help if I didn't poof to eat...
Ah well, I gotta go now. It's already 2am. Night Emzy!

[Rogue of Night]

ooc;; No worries! Night Alze ^^

bic;; The rest of the crew agreed with a mixture of nods and words. They then began to discuss new posts and a grand array of new notions, the treasure included.
Blake approached Leif, expression blank as she neared. "Who told you?" she inquired quietly.

[C H E Y E N N E]

It was cramped and small, but he had gotten used to it over the years; cramming his small frame behind packed goods containing both solidified and liquefied supplies was easy enough. However, holding himself there was another matter: trying to ignore his body's protests as his limbs were bent at an awkward angle was an unpleasant experience, but the alternative was something he wasn't willing to risk. Not yet.
When they were close to land... close enough to swim... he could jump out and overboard before the pirates found him.
He was careful not to take noticeable amounts of food, either; the pirates would attribute small food disappearances to the rats, but anything larger than that and he knew they'd do a thorough search. And then what would happen? They'd probably kill him, or lock him in the bridge, or put him to work as something akin to a slave. That was the punishment for stowaways.
Sighing, he leaned his head against a barrel, bringing one leg up to his chest and extending the other in front of him. Wall Staring had become a constant thing for him, as well as Count The Number Of Knots In The Wood.
That had gotten old fast.
Still, it was good to not be curled up behind some large thing or under a tarp, and he was practically purring with the temporary luxury of stretching. Casting wide, blue-grey eyes around the hold again, Marceau Lovell wondered how long it would take before they arrived at a port; before he would hear the long-awaited "Land!" calling from the Crow's Nest way above.
At least he knew the name of that thing.
The only part of the ship he had seen in-depth was the above deck, as well as the Crow's Nest itself, where he had momentarily hidden before making his way--carefully--down the rigging and dropping rather loudly and ungracefully onto the wooden workings of the ship.
Finding the hold had taken him longer than he had wanted, and the constant paranoia of running into someone made him take even longer than usual to locate the vast, supplies-packed area. Of course, he left the hold every night for a much-needed walk, but knowing there were pirates aboard limited his excavations and explorations to the hold itself, and the mesh hall or kitchen, where he went when he couldn't get dried food out of the barrels without anyone noticing after they were opened.
He felt like a caged bird, and he didn't like it one bit.
But all he could do was wait, and wait, and wait.
It seemed like he was always waiting. It was a good thing he had developed the patience for it.
Closing his eyes, Marcy exhaled loudly, knowing that the darkened sky would have lulled many a pirate and sailor to sleep now. He counted on it, actually, but he had survived too long on luck. What would the English do if they found him here? Their language was strange to him--their customs alien. And with the French being a long-time enemy of England itself, could he expect mercy? And so it was with a rapidly-beating heart, within the darkness of the hold, that his fears came out.
His luck would run out sometime, he knew, and then it would only be a matter of time before someone discovered him here.