The inside of the Buggered Whale smelled the same as Markus would imagine its namesake smelled. A thousand stenches of wrong, mixed with the vague sense of sweat one gets for holding a drink or sitting on your ass too long. A balding man behind the counter watched Markus carefully, no doubt pondering if he really should have opened the tavern this night. He no doubt had many rough patrons, but a pirate Captain looking for a crew either spelled a brawl, or a visit from the local law enforcement. Neither had happened yet, so the man was on edge.

A cheer rose up among the myriad of men and women drinking, enjoying themselves. But as the cheers died down, the conversations didn't continue. The silence became defeaning as they all watched the wolfish Captain and his beautiful, devilish companion. He had no idea who in here was to join and who was here to merely drink and boast. "All who wish to join the crew, come to me table and stake your case." he said to them, cutting through the silence and turning to the left corner of the room. The floor clapped by his boots, he found himself staring at a ruffian drinking a pint.

"You're in my chair boy." Markus warned sardonically, though the man was likely a decade his senior, he realized. At first Markus saw a brief glimpse of anger in the man's eyes, though they were quickly overriden by fear, and he nodded stupidly. "Y-Yes sir. Might I bring your lady friend a chair too?"

Markus nodded, and the man rushed to do just that. The blademage couldn't help but grin. Sketti had apparently played up his reputation quite a bit. It was easy giving off an aura of blood that would cow most would be toughs. He'd led a bloody life, it was true. Perhaps not a lawless and merciless one. He had only killed when he had to. He just happened to be in situations where battle and murder was often the prudent course to go.

The torches flickered overhead as the two sat down. For her part, Calliope held an aura of power of her own that even unnerved Markus, though they'd spent the better part of the past week together. A part of him found himself growing more and more attracted to her, and the other part of himself felt as if he was going insane. As the bar patrons stood up to get in line and pledge themselves to the crew, the balding barman approached, sweating and smiling. He reminded Markus of a fat rat that gnawed at whatever favor it could curry.

"Might I get you two drinks?" he asked with a high pitched yet breathless voice.

"What's the best you have?" Markus asked, eyeing the man. He mentioned rum, Banian wine, Vrettonian wine, and Norgard Ale. Markus shrugged. "Rum for now." while Calliope ordered a glass of the Vrettonian red. The barman didn't see the figure towering over him from behind, and he squealed when he was knocked aside by a burly arm from the large man. He was particularly ugly, with a wide paunch and an underbite with protruding, sharp teeth that spoke of Orcish heritage.

"What are ye fer? Who made ye Captain eh? Comin' in here and askin' fer a crew." the man sneered, chuckling. "Tell ye what. I'll be Captain, and I'll gives yes protection. Might shack up wif your lady friend here." He leered at Calliope with clear intentions in his eyes. He noticed Markus' incredulous look, and puffed out his chest even more. "This here is Porto's bar, and ye don't come in without asking first."

Markus understood immediately. Most rougher taverns had a 'champion.' Essentially a tough leader of the patrons who ruled by strength and fear.

"You look like the lad that buggered the whale. Tell you what, I'll make you a deckhand and you can haul the anchor." the Blademage replied, to the increasing rage of the brute. He raised his arms to come crashing down on the table. Markus flicked a coin his way nonchalantly, though his eyes had steeled. "Here's an advance on your wages."

Porto's anger distracted for a moment, he hesitated and watched the coin's descent. As his head moved down, his left eye came in line with Markus' throwing dagger, abruptly ending the brute's life unceremoniously. Blood seeped out of his eye socket, and a moment later he fell backwards and hit the floor with a ground shaking 'thud.' The bar went quiet once more, only to be ended by the Captain again. "Sorry to dirty your floor. Now get those drinks."

The crew that had accumulated in the Buggered Whale was as varied as the continent. They met Jax the Caelic half elf first, an accented and energetic, experienced sailor, bare chested and covered in lined tattoos, though his most prominent feature was his fiery red mane of hair. There was Halvar, a blonde bearded warrior of Norgard, hailing from the Kingdom of Thangoradrim, known for their monster slayers and disciplines raiders on the seas and mountains. Following him was a tall and imposing woman of hard muscle and a womanly figure, with long hair as crimson as blood. On her back was a nicked bastard sword, and her skin was grey brown, as dust. She was taller than Markus and Calliope, with broad shoulders fit for hard labor. That, along with her hide garments and rough tongue showed she was a Scythian, from the barbarian plains. Her name was Corsica. The one that approached after her was the one she had been eyeing all night, though this one seemed far less enthusiastic about joining a crew. He was a stately but young Elven scholar, with chestnut hair and dirtied robes, and a large leather bound book in his arms. A 'scribe and a scholar of many interests' he claimed, though he was obviously here because of a lack of options elsewhere. The elf had introduced himself as Aetheron, and he nearly pissed himself when the next volunteer stepped forward. At first Markus didn't know if this beast was going to leap onto the table and devour them, or if he simply bared his teeth and drooled all the time. It was a towering Gnoll, lanky but muscled, with powerful legs and clawed hands.

"Sron." He replied to the question of what they should call him, and he placed his mark on the ledger of names by scratching an 'X.'

The next three men were experienced deckhands, and if Markus didn't miss his guess, triplets, by the way of them looking almost identical, their names being Will, Bill, and Phil. They each wore bandannas over their bald heads, muticolored so as to tell them apart from the other.

Lastly, a young lad who couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen stepped up, with the look of a commoner, and brown hair. He seemed almost as hesitant as the Elf, but he had little choice in the matter as well. "Jim," he said, hoisting his pack more securing around his shoulders. "You won't regret it, sirs. A-And madam."

---

Hours later, the bar had emptied of all the patrons save Markus, Calliope, and Sketti, who all now enjoyed the Norgardian Ale. Calliope had kept her expression neutral, save for her curling her lip in disgust at a few of them. Markus took a swig and planked his mug back on the table.

"So, what'll ye be paying us? Regular shares?" Sketti asked, Gold lust in his eyes. Markus grinned in his cup. "I never said you were on the crew."

That brought a glare from Sketti, and Markus laughed. They both knew Markus was joking. Sketti would bring them plenty of firearms and valuable experience. "So, what do ye think of the crew?" Sketti asked through his crumb filled beard. "Best of the best, ay?"

"Best you could find, more like." Markus replied, but held his hand out to halt any protests or claims by Sketti. "Don't worry, they're fine. It works for me, and as long as it works for my first mate, and..." he looked to Calliope. "I think we're both just ready to start our pirating. Aye?"
@Penny

Calliope didn’t venture any opinion of the crew, if Markus and the dwarf were confident in them then she had no choice to defer to their superior expertise. The navy of Calaverde was largely made up of privateers, ships furnished with a warrant from the Tyrant to perform some task or another in exchange for payment and for permission to use the harbor. There were a few more regularized naval ships that the tyrant owned and operated at the public expense these provides a convenient outlet for the sadistic and incompetent sons of powerful families, criminals of various stripes and a useful excuse for the Tyrant to raise taxes. None of this made Calliope feel particularly authoritative on the matter of actually seafaring.

“Are we supposed to call it ‘pirating’ are we?” she asked, lazily drawing her finger through the distinctly inferior wine that currently filled her carved wooden goblet.

“I am sure what the good captain meant to say, was that he was eager to embark on a profitable career in commerce at some considerable distance from this fine city,” a rough masculine voice interjected. A stood in the doorway he was dressed in a navy blue coat with golden accents which he wore over a suit of immaculate but functional leather armor. A plain heavy cutlass, much at odds with the coat, hung from a weapons belt alongside the butt an elegant looking dwarven pistol. He was tall and weather beaten with dark blonde hair and heavily calloused palms.

“Because if that isn’t what he meant I’m afraid I’d have to hang him as a pirate,” the man concluded. Calliope glared at the man for a moment.

“Hello Rodrick,” she said finally her tone half amused and half resigned. The man put a hand to his chest in feigned surprise.

“Calli?! Can that really be you? I mean I had heard reports that Calliopie the Tyrant of Calaverde was in my city, but I dismissed it as sailors nonsense. Then, wouldn’t you know it, I get a pigeon from Calaverde claiming that some idiot named Sebastian Del Mondo was the new ‘First Citizen’ or something equally ridiculous, and it occured to me that maybe I should check it out.”
Rodrick Blackmoor, the Sea Lord of Stormsrest, stepped into the tavern. Behind him a dozen soldiers, each equipped with coats of navy blue and white pantaloons stood at attention, each carrying a long musket of plain but obvious functionality.

“Doing, well for yourself I see,” Calliopie said with a hint of acid in her voice. Rodrick looked down at the coat and brushed off an imaginary speck of dust before dragging chair around to the table, he faced the back towards them and sat down legs astride, crossing his arms across the back of the chair.

“Markus, Sketti, this is Rodrick Blackmoor, or whatever new last name he has invented for himself,” Calliope said by way of introduction.

“Charmed I’m sure, and you have to admit that Blackmoor has more of a ring to it than some names I have had. Cant have Lord Whoreson running a city now can?” he asked before nodding deliberately to Markus.

“I must say Captain that the poster dosen’t do you justice,” he quipped making an offhand gesture to one of the recruiting posters hanging from a rusted nail.

"That's very kind of you," Markus said, betraying no emotion. He sipped his cup with an air of familiarity, as if he had such meetings often. He had gathered that Calliope and the man might know one another, but their sardonic tones tipped him off that they had either been lovers, or business partners. It didn't matter, really. What Markus was curious on was what he was doing here. "Your reputation proceeds you, though I admit I wouldn't have taken you for a whoreson."

"Thank you.," the man said, inclining his head.

"I'm one as well. Might you tell me where I can collect my city and personal guard?" Markus asked. Rodrick looked from Calliope to Markus with a swiftly deteriorating mood. The men had arrayed themselves before the northern wall, watching with interest and practiced stances, where they could grab their guns or swords without delay.

"One needs a form of...noble destiny, to garner such things. Calliope can attest." he said, gesturing towards her with a knowing smirk. "If I were to order my men to kill you, your blood would no doubt be found to be common. My blood is noble." there was a dark edge to his voice. He wasn't a fool who thought noble lineages were important. He simply believed he was one of the few men to command a free city. "I could never be a commoner no more than you could be a lord."

"Let's spill it and find out." Markus replied dangerously. It was a regrettable flaw he had. He truly hated entitled nobility. The tension in the room was cut when a 'click' was heard. It wasn't Markus' doing. If the swordsman had to guess, Sketti had drawn a pistol under the table. Rodrick betrayed no emotion, though he cleared his throat. Calliope glanced a warning at Markus and cursed Sketti, before turning to Rodrick, tiring of this.

"What is it that you want, Rodrick?"

"Killing a Lord is quite the offense." He replied slyly, ignoring Calliope for the moment. "It seems you have a choice. Die here, or be given a lucrative job."

Markus went from tense to confused, taking Rodrick's measure. "And what task would a Lord of Stormsrest have for a...ship of commerce?"

Rodrick stood up at that moment, preferring to slowly pace as he began to think aloud, reciting his predicament. "There is a marriage that will occur a few tendays from now. Svetlanna von Gilderoy shall wed Clarion De Velmone'. The daughter of an Andredian Duke and a posh Count of southern Vrettonia.-" Markus smiled to himself. He'd seen Clarion De Velmone fight before. No doubt this marriage was due to the fact he couldn't conquer lands to save his line. "and the dowry is, from what I hear, a lush find from the Southland jungles. Gold mined in the Dragonteeth mountains."

"And you want us to collect this Gold for you?" Markus asked incredulously. Rodrick laughed at that wickedly. "Heaven's no! I wouldn't trust you to return the Gold to me in a minute, even with my dear Calliope here. I simply wish for the transport to disappear. Their union would disrupt certain trade arrangements I have and would like them to remain untouched..."

Sketti seemed less than convinced, or at least less than happy at working for someone so pompous. Markus wasn't thrilled either, but he decided that this man had no reason to lie. "If you provide the shipping lane, then we shall see it done."

"Excellent." Rodrick said, smiling through his neatly trimmed goatee. He turned to Calliope. "My dear Calli, would you wish to dine with me tonight? I simply wish to see how you are. Do me this kindness, for an old friend?"
@Penny

Calliope nodded and stood up reaching out to take Roderick’s outstretched hand. The Sea Lord smiled and turned his benevolent gaze upon Markus. There was an almost physical sparking as their eyes met. Neither one of them was a stranger to violence and neither backed down easily or gracefully.

“I of course have no knowledge of where or how the dowry will be shipped, it isn’t as though I am a cartographer with a shop on Belmouth street after all,” Roderick declared. The word of a pirate likely wasn’t enough to get a man of Roderick’s station in much trouble, but there were certain truth detecting spells for which it was useful to be able to issue a technical denial.

“I bid you good evening gentlemen,” the Sea Lord concluded smoothly and escorted Calliope out of the tavern. As though summoned a coach of dark polished teak wood turned the corner and rattled over the dilapidated cobblestones. The soldiers performed a smart right face bringing them into a column four abreast, they then split into two files of two to create a space for the coach to pull up. Roderick handed her up gallantly and they set off towards the Crimson Fortress.

“You don’t think he will just sail off without you do you?” Roderick asked with a speculative look back at the Buggered Whale. They were moving slowly enough that the infantry outside could keep pace at a steady march. Calliopie shook her head, she didn’t think Markus would simply leave her behind, at the very least he had to deal with the enchantments she had left aboard. The Elf they had hired could probably break them if given a few hours but given that she still had her valuables and was enough of a mage to be a valuable addition she didn’t see it was muchin his interest.

“I rather doubt it,” she responded as the carriage rattled up the hill towards the imposing fortress that served as the palace.

“He could have killed me and tossed my body off shore if that were his plan,” she explained.

“He might still kill you and dump your body,” Roderick countered. The carriage passed smoothly over an impressive drawbridge and between two large turrets of the distinctive red granite that gave the Crimson Fortress its name. Although the construction of the Fortress was old, the main gate was protected by very modern ravelins that projected like spikes. The low walls were slopped to deflect cannon fire upwards and modern guns projected from the firing ports. Calliope wondered if Roderick had commissioned the new fortifications. He had, she recalled served as a mercenary with the Army of Anndred and was up to date with modern siege tactics.

“I’m touched by your concern,” Calliope replied with a ghost of a smile.

“But maybe you should be more concerned with HIS welfare.” The Sea Lord snickered.

“Inconvenient people around you do have a habit of coming down with a bad case of death,” Roderick agreed. The soldiers along side them peeled off as the entered the courtyard and were replaced by livered servants who helped them from the carriage.

“You know of course that I would be happy to offer you sancturary as well as … quiet assistance to find you a place more suited to your station,” Roderick said, his fingers stroking her hair as her head lay upon his chest. Calliope laughed lazily fingers toying with the expensive Vrettonian silk sheets. Roderick’s chambers were in one of the smaller towers of keep though the rooms themselves were as richly appointed as her own had been back in Calaverede. Dozens of weapons as well as rare and expensive charts covered the walls along with jewel encrusted navigational aide and astrolabes. She walked her fingers up Rodericks naked muscular torso and then reached over him to take a bottle of wine from the well stocked side board and took pour herself another glass.

“Mmmm not exactly the desperate exile just yet,” she said taking a sip. The first rays of the dawn were already streaming through the windows, filling the chamber with soft golden light. Roderick snorted reaching down to give her naked rump an affectionate squeeze.

“As it happens I am in the market for a wife,” Roderick said taking a brandy decanter from the sideboard and talking a long drink.

“You would be a better candidate than most, I could pretend I wanted to take Calaverde back to right some great injustice to my beloved,” Roderick jested. Calliope smiled sardonically. She didn’t doubt the offer was sincere but she didn’t have any illusions that Roderick would allow her to share power in any meaningful way. It wasn’t in either of their make ups to passively sit by. Marriage amounted to a comfortable retirement at least so long as Roderick remained in power in Stormcrest.

“Well despite your extremely romantic proposal,” she murmered running a series of kisses up over his collarbone.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline for now.”

“For now?” Roderick asked with an amused chuckle.

“Then I shall have to live in hope!” he declared with a grin, pressing his hand to his heart dramatically. Calliope rolled her eyes and was about to reply when a polite knock sounded at the door.

“Come,” Roderick called and a middle aged servant entered the room bearing a silver tray which he lay on a carefully carved table at the end of the chamber before whisking away the cover to reveal to silver plates of steaming bacon and eggs.

“So you are really planning to turn pirate?” Roderick asked around a mouthful of breakfast. They were both more or less dressed now. Roderick had provided her a new shirt of brilliant white silk with subtle silver embroidery though she had opted not to wear the skin tight scarlet pantaloons he had matched with it, preferring her own doeskin breeches.

“If this dowry is as big as you seem to think, it should go a way to putting me back on my feet. Certainly it will create opportunities.” That was true in more ways than one. Beyond the simple monetary value, the theft of such a vast hoard of treasure which was also the key to the most important political union in a generation would through the whole Sea of Swords in to chaos and where there was chaos, there was opportunity.

“OH it will be big,” Roderick amplified, “I saw Svetlana at Brauerhusen, she looks like the whelp of a bear that took advantage of a porpoise.” Calliope couldn’t help but laugh at the description. Roderick made a warding sign with his fork, the solemnity of the gesture slightly spoiled when a piece of egg fell from the tip.

“They must be paying the poor groom a FORTUNE, politics be damned.” Roderick sobered.

“...and speaking of politics I have a favor to ask you.”

"Up!" Markus called, his voice falling on deaf ears as the new crew hung limply in their new hammocks. The sun had risen, and thank the Gods it was a fine day to sail. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the wind was with them. If only his crew was. Markus had lead men before, and he knew how to wake sleeping mercenaries. With a quick swipe of his sword, Jax's hammock fell head first. The fey touched hit the ground with a thud, and he arose with a myriad of curses.

"Ack, who the bloody-...oh, marning Captain." he replied, far more jovially when he realized who had cut the rope.

"Up, ye scabrous dogs!" Sketti roared and clanked his metal appendage to a hammer, and soon the crew was stirring and hopping out of their hammocks.

Minutes later, Markus stepped out onto the deck. He cut the figure of a warrior prince in all but attire, though he had changed out of the rags. He wore full, dark breeches contrasted by a white linen shirt. The brown frock coat he wore had its sleeves rolled up, and on his chest was a baldric where four knives hung, as well as a brace of pistols Sketti had gifted him. On his hip, his backsword hung ready.

He was simply out here for appearances sake. Soon he'd steer the ship's wheel out of the bay, but for the moment the whole party wasn't on board the ship. Sketti called for the mainmast to be risen, and the triplets scurried to do just that, bringing the lad Jim along. Sketti then began his ascent to the helm, unscrewing the brass head of his arm stump for a reason Markus couldn't guess.

Sron had begun to pull up the anchor with their muscled bodies, though the mooring line was still in place. The Gnoll yanked it up in short order, growling as he did so. Markus remembered how much of an ordeal it was for himself to do it. The beast made it look far too easy. Then again, everything seemed to move slow when he was running for his life. Meanwhile, Corsica and Halvar, along with the Elven Scholar had begun to transport the items they had requisitioned from the marketplace onto the ship. The red headed woman looked nearly as strong as the Norgard Viking, and the Elf helped where he could.

Sketti had been dubbed Quartermaster the night before, and the Dwarf, with typical perfectionist Dwarf tendancies, made sure they were accounted for with food, water, and rum for two weeks, even with a Gnoll on board. That, coupled with six barrels of shot & powder, backup weaponry, oil, and various other crafting materials and even witchery equipment. Once Sketti made it to the helm, he gave Markus a grin. "Everything looks good, Captain."

"Now we just need to wait for the first mate." He replied, a hint of criticism in his voice. Still, he gave an acerbic smile. He didn't know what Calliope would be up to, but no doubt it would cause a stir. Her fierceness was one reason he had made her First Mate and not Quartermaster. Typically, pirate crews did not have First Mates, the title usually going to the Quartermaster, as he was the crew's representative and second in command. But the title of First Mate was often given to one who was not responsible for the crew, instead simply having near the power of the Captain.

"I been meaning to talk to ye about that." Sketti said, taking a hook and screwing it onto his forearm. Markus thought it was a bit on the nose, but he supposed hook hands had practical value. "How long have ye known her?"

"A week, give or take. Why?" His tone showed the swordsman was wanting Sketti to get to the point.

"And ye trust her? I don't need to remind ye she went home with that bastard."

"Not particularly." Markus replied. He trusted that she was angry enough at the world to stick around while Markus cut through it. She wouldn't deter them, at least. A call from Jax in the crow's nest signalled that Calliope was arrive via carriage. The Half Elf also gave a suggestive whistle that carried on the wind as she sauntered up the plank.

"Don't get me wrong, I like her so far. But she's a viper, mark me words." Sketti said. Markus chuckle. "Just make sure the crew is ready to sail."

It took them less than an hour to get out of the bay and onto the open ocean. The wind had them moving at 7 knots due north east, as Markus had some sense of where they needed to go. Calliope would provide the precise bearings however. Aeltheron kept their mileage. They would need to use Dead Reckoning for a time. As Calliope left her quarters, she would be greeted by Jim, the lad. He obviously did his best not to give a dumbfounded gaze at her voluptuos charms, simply telling her the Captain wished to see her in his quarters.

"Thirty fathoms!" Phil the deckhand called, and Sketti gave him the thumbs up. The crew moved to and fro, keeping the sails with the wind and the ship from cresting the waves too quickly. She would approach Markus' cabin, to the passably carved oak doors that led to his joint office and bedroom. Inside the Captain's cabin, there was a Queen sized bed on the bottom left corner of the room, and a lantern hanging over it. There was a work desk at the back center of the room, and behind that was the view of thew open sea. Framing the desk was various bookshelves, and to the right was a weapon's rack. Above the center of the room was a lamp chandelier, and below that was a fine table for dining.

Markus was now pouring over the map, and he did not bother to look up as she entered, instead tracing his finger along a path through the north eastern ocean. "So, did you have fun?" he asked her. He then looked up at her after her next reply, his eyes examining her before meeting her own gaze. "What did he want?"
@Penny

Calliope laughed, a rich dark sounding laugh that conveyed a languid amusement. Markus cabin was larger than heres and better appointed by far but no accommodations aboard a ship the size of the Weather Witch were what one might describe as luxurious. Calliope’s own cabin was maybe half the size of Markus’ and intended for two officers to share besides. Its only furnishings were a single sea bed and a large table. Calliope had gathered a number of things from Roderick to make her voyage more tolerable. He had been willing to lavish gifts upon her, in part out of genuine affection and in part because he was enjoying the opportunity to demonstrate conspicuous consumption. Giving her aid now expressed a certain friendly condescension for her situation. Still Roderick had retrieved the gemstones she has pawned and provided her with a number of very expensive books, spell ingredients and a few esoteric grimoires as well as fine sand, quills, in and other paraphernalia of writing. He had included foodstuffs too, candied plums and licorice as well as several casks of excellent wine and expensive brandy. Best of all he had gifted her a handsome chest with a magical lock that could only be opened by her voice.

“I suspect he wanted many things. Things a man normally wants and some other things as well. I suspect he is under pressure to find a wife and thinks that appearing to dally with me will relieve the pressure. Perhaps he wishes to tell Sebastian that of course he met with his old friend but he sent her away without sanctuary. Possibly all of these things at once,” she explained. It was unlikely that Markus, a simple man of violence, would understand all the political nuances but then she didn’t understand half of what he did about the sea and there was no point treating someone like an idiot if you needed to work with them.

“He did have one favor he asked me though. Jim!” she called. The cabin boy, with the assistance of the massive Gnoll whose name she had momentarily forgotten carried in a large wooden chest sealed with a padlock.

“He requested I bring this aboard,” she said as the two crew men set the chest down. It seemed like the gnoll was only tolerating Jim’s help as the boy seemed more of an impediment than an aid. He looked at Calliope turned red and then found something very interesting about his boots to study.

“What is it?” Markus asked scarcely bothering to look up from his map.

“I’ve no idea, I was supposed to keep it sealed till we cleared the harbor.” She drew a small brass key from a pouch and fited it to the lock before turning it with a click. The gnoll pulled back the lid, one hand on an impressive knife tucked into his colorful red sash. Calliope had no idea what would be inside, but was still dumbfounded by what the chest contained. Bound in tight hempen cords, and wearing a gag was a tiny woman. Not a woman Calliope realised, it was a gnome. About the size of a human child of ten the gnome woman was more heavily muscled and developed in her breast and hips than any child. She wore expensive looking sailors clothing and her hair was a shocking shade of pink that could only have been a die, two large blue eyes glared up at them and there was a note pinned to her chest. Calliope, the first to recover from this shocking sight, reached down a plucked the note free. SHe read it aloud.

Dearest Calli,

This is an old associate of mine who was recently arrested for piracy. As I cant be seen to have a soft hand when it comes to pirates I sentenced her to death. I had been puzzling over what to do about her when you showed up in need of a crew. I trust she will be more useful having managed a daring escape than she would be on the gallows.

R

Calliope reached down and pulled the gag from the gnomes mouth.

“I’ll kill you all you lumbering ox fuckers!” the gnome snapped though she didnt bother to flex against her bonds. Calliope pulled a knife and the the gnome stilled but the former tyrant merely slashed the ropes that held her. The gnome sat up quickly rubbing at her arms furiously. Calliope looked her over.

“I take it you are a gunner?” she asked, arching a dark eyebrow.

“Aye that I am whoever-the-fuck-you-are,” the fiesty Gnome snapped.

“You using some sort of fancy mind reading spell?”

Calliope smirked.

“It would be more likely that Roderick simply told me, but no, as it happens I saw the powder burns on your for arms.” The gnome held out her arms, revealing dozens of small discolorations from close proximity to firearms and burning black powder.

“Ah, well yes as it happens, I’m Grimey Hurinson,” the little Gnome declared, glaring around belligerently at her taller opponents.

“I was on my way to an old fort I knew about to recover some guns when I ran into a whee bit of trouble with the Stormcrest navy, could have happened to anyone!”

Markus raised an eyebrow and looked upwards, giving a smile that momentarily revealed his youth, as if to ask the Gods how he fell in with such a crew. The Gnome woman held herself up defensively, her big blue eyes darting around with a wary edge. Markus was glad the Gnome did not see the Gnoll behind her, as he had a look that spoke of unbridaled hunger, and how much of a delicacy he considered this newcomer.

Markus took a step forward, measuring Grimey. He already knew the answer to his question, but he needed to be skeptical for appearances sake. "You know how to handle a gun?"

"Ha! I know my way around a gun better than you know your way around your-"

"Jim, escort our new lady crew member to the deck and introduce her to the crew. Make sure you tell Sketti how she got here and let him tell her where to go." He ordered the younger boy. Jim gave a quick look around the room, the monster, the short gunner, and the dangerous vixen all made him equally uncomfortable. "Aye sir," he said, and pulled on Grimey's blouse lightly. She smacked his hand. "Oi, you should know better than to touch a lady!" Yet she followed him, thankfully.

"I'm not sure if I brought a blessing or a curse." Calliope remarked.

"You can go now, Sron." Markus said, heading back to his desk.

The ship rocked lightly, and a faint yell was heard from on deck. No doubt the crew was now getting along swimmingly with their new crewmember. The Gnoll gave a rough reply, the first time it had spoken since it's introduction in the Buggered Whale. "Aye Captain." It said the words very slowly and deliberately, its voice sounding far too menacing and bestial to ever be taken lightly, and he turned to leave, his humped back nearly bumping into the top of the door.

"Oh and Sron? Don't eat the newcomer."

"...Aye sir."

With that, the door closed. Markus breathed a bit easier as soon as it did, looking a bit more like the lost swordsman that had found her in the dungeons in what seemed far longer ago than it was. "Our first port and you managed to get us a new gunner after we left it. That's impressive." he said with a smirk. She gave him a sly look that oozed with an 'of course I did.' Markus replied with a wicked smile that showed his teeth.

"But if we want to keep the crew," he said, heading over to the other side of his desk. "We need a good haul. Did you get our bearings?"

The words of Sketti rang in his ears.

Markus was no fool. He was never the negotiator or the ambassador for his father's court or estate, but he did serve and dwell there long enough to know more than his fair share of politics. He at least knew enough to know that to trust anyone blindly, particularly a recent tyrant, was a bad risk. But there was mutual gain here, and even past that, he felt he knew her kind of anger at the world hidden beneath the surface. He could relate, and maybe after they cashed in on this hunt, he'd let his guard down...a bit.

The ship rocked due to the swell of a wave, and an opened rum bottle slid across the desk. Markus somehow caught it without even giving it a glance, picking it up and taking a swig. He felt like a light buzz.
@Penny

Calliope nodded and drew a roll of parchment from her black sea leather jacket, spreading it out over the table. The parchment was chart that Roderick had given her, showing the whole sea of swords in some considerable detail. Even so any chart that spanned so wide an area was only useful in the most abstract way for actually sailing. This one bore the seal of Tregellian, a family of cartographers reknowned for their accuracy.

“According to what Roderick told me, we have a bit of a job ahead of us.” That was something of an understatement, taking the dowry seemed downright suicidal given what the Sea Lord had been able to share with her. She lay a slender finger far to the southwest.

“The dowry is going to be coming with the treasure fleet from Harada,” she said. The Andred treasure fleet was a convoy of large powerful ships which made a two year circuit with the trade winds. On the way out they carried manufactured goods, particularly steel, for sale in the distant colonies scattered along the Green Coast and into the Vesterdam. On the way back they carried the fabulous wealth of the untamed southern lands. Silver and gold as well as precious stones beyond measure, coffee and sugar and purest ambrosia all flowed back into Andreedi ports. Harada was the oldest of the Andreedi colonies, once it had been a simple port city but the wealth of the colonial administration had built it into an imposing metropolis, as large as anything to be found on the eastern side of the Sea of Swords.

“They won't sail for another three month, maybe four,” Calliope said. Makus was nodding, evidently understanding that the trade winds that blew west to east for half the year would need to reverse before sailing would be possible. That meant that the flotilla had to get underway and out of the tropical waters before the hurricane season began.

“We won’t stand much chance against an entire fleet,” Markus stated bluntly. Calliope nodded her head having made much the same statement to Roderick the night before. The idea of attacking the treasure fleet was not a new one, but even a real naval power would struggle to slug it out with the massive galleons that formed the convoy.

“We have three months, two once we get there,” Calliope said.

“I think our best bet is to try to delay the fleet however we can, if we can keep them from sailing until too late in the season, they will have to risk swinging south along the coast of Angkar, the storms are severe down there I’m told. The greatest admiral in the world couldn’t keep a convoy together down there, they will be forced appart one way or the other and we might be able to make our move.”

It sounded simple when she said it like that, but Calliope had no illusions about the difficulty of what they were about to attempt. They needed to find guns and powder to properly arm the Witch, they need local knowledge, allies and information about their quarry and they needed to keep the crew together, something they couldn’t do on the promise of a distant pay day. Pirates worked for wages and for shares and if either of those things were lacking it wouldn't’ be long before one of them figured that selling them out to the Andredi was a more lucrative proposition. They needed to find targets along the way to keep the men happy and to blood them so that they would be ready when the time came. The only bright spot was that although Andred employed competent sailors, their officer class tended towards the unemployed sons of the nobility who rarely had the aptitude or the training for real sea faring. The state of their mages was similarly woeful, as often as not the post of mage was given to someone who couldn’t so much as light a candle but whose parents had paid to get a position in the fleet.

Markus sat down and stared at the doorway, hand on his mouth and chin as he pondered. His fingers rubbed along the sandpaper-like texture of his newly shaven face. Even now he didn't know why he kept himself relatively clean shaven, as he hadn't needed to by anyone's admission but his own since he left the continent and became a sailor. Maybe it was one routine from his past life he didn't want to give up just yet.

"Luckily you brought us some news of a weapons cache." he said, referring to the Gnome woman. He didn't know the prospects of such a place, or how likely it was for a full pirate outfit to go and get the items. He supposed the fact she was caught at sea and not at the port was good news in their favor. Calliope watched him expectantly. "But even if we get more guns and powder, we won't have a crew for long if we don't do a successful haul."

"And what do you suggest?" She asked him.

---

The water lapped along the longboat noisily, or at least it sounded loud to those on the craft. The moon was hidden this night, the only true source of light being the torches on the shoreline. That was good. Markus could draw his blade without the backsword glinting and giving away their position. He looked back over his shoulder where a coiled rope hung, though he'd already done it half a dozen times. The Weathered Witch behind them was dark, and no one had violated his orders and set a light.

He turned back to the shoreline, and in the faint glow that emanated off his eyes, he looked particularly fearsome this night. There was only a Skeleton crew left on the Sloop, with all cannons aimed at the outpost they now sailed toward. The triplettes, along with Sketti, Jax, Grimey, and Jim was aboard, with Sketti being the commanding officer on the ship. In the longboat, Markus and Calliope, along with Sron, Halvar, and Corsica held quiet with their weapons at the ready. Neither Markus nor Calliope could summon their magic yet, lest their be wards or a commissioned mage in the ranks of Soldiers that now took their sleep in turns.

They had found a small island on the map, one that Markus had heard tale of ships going to and from the little patch of sand in the middle of the Sea. During the war, it had been known as a stop for Dre Costan shipping lanes. Much Gold and Spices moved through here, and though there wouldn't be any large haul like they would find in the dowry, there were guns, swords, no doubt some stashed away treasures and trade goods, and above all, rum. In the distance, Markus could see the patrols walking to and fro in the torchlight, passing one another periodically.

They landed to the east of the bay, dragging the ship ashore silently and making sure their powder and steel was dry. Markus knelt down and reminded them of the plan.

"Sron, Corsica, and Halvar. Take out the sentries as silently as you can. When I give the signal..." he gave a knowing smile. "be as loud as you can. Calliope, with me."

The forest trees formed a semi circle around the small base, and there was no major fortification there save a single keep made of Seastone, overlooking the sea with various thatched window sills jutting out of the stone. Between it and the sea, various buildings collected along the sandy ground. Barracks, a stable, a smithy, a large cash of grain, an armory, etc. Markus and Calliope headed northeast, and waited along the ferns and watched the inner settlement from within the brush. Usually the fleet would keep any would-be attackers at bay, but after the war they had grown lax.

A fatal mistake, Markus knew. Just then, he saw a guard on the outskirts get ripped from his position at the barracks and yanked into the treeline. No scream. Markus went to his task, stepping as deliberately and quietly as he could, moving out of the jungle just as the sentry at the back of the keep turned. The man turned around, and opened his mouth to yawn. His eyes went wide like his mouth, and Calliope could only hear the barest muffled noise as Markus clamped the man's mouth shut and shoved his knife into the soldier's throat.

Above them, a patrolman casually strolled out of the balcony that overlooked the forest. Markus stayed completely still, unmoving at Calliope's insistence. She gave him the second signal moments later, and Markus began to make his way up along the side of the keep, gripping the rough sea stone, the lines of mortar being easy places to gain a foothold. It took less than a minute for him to make it to the balcony. He looked down at Calliope, and the woman shook her head fervently. Markus stopped, and his brows rose when she stepped out of the bushes and into the light, clearing her throat.

The sentry looked over the side, and was taken aback at seeing a shapely woman just standing there. He aimed his musket at her. "State your name miss!"

It gave Markus the time to hop onto the balcony behind him, and slit his throat. The blood spilled, dropping into the sand 20 feet below in an audibly parody of a puddle.

It didn't seem to matter. A shout of alarm was heard from within the settlement a quarter of a mile away. Markus sighed and uncoiled the rope, tying a makeshift stirrup, and then typing the top of it to the balcony, lowering it for Calliope. They hadn't given the signal yet, but this still worked in their favor. They still needed to find the Keep's commander and treasure room, and when they had, Calliope would have a vantage point to rain down her magic and destroy the rest of the resistance.
@Penny

Calliope slithered up the rope gracefully. Although she wasn’t a natural athlete, she was a slim woman without much tendency to fat. The previous week of sailing had helped of course. The Weather Witch was to small a vessel that anyone could afford to avoid work. While she didn’t do the heaviest physical labour, like working the windlass to raise a yard, she had spent enough time in the rigging to give the impression of being a help. The fact that it made climbing this rope a familiar task was just a bonus. Command, like any other task in the world, was a political process and only fools pretended it wasn’t. People who claimed they weren’t political were simply bad at politics. Another factor in her favor was that she wasn’t carrying much in the way of gear, merely her rapier, a heavy knife, and the Codex.

At Markus’ insistence no one had been allowed to bring a flintlock that still held a flint. The odds of someone tripping or otherwise accidentally firing off a weapon were high enough, and the consequences ruinous enough, that the pirate captain had felt it a sound decision. Several of the raiders had bought pistols but they would have to screw the flints back in once the fighting started. Calliope hadn’t bothered with that. If the situation were bad enough that a pistol made the difference, it was likely to be bad enough that she wouldn’t survive either way.

The parapet of the seafort looked out over a broad section of the small bay. A river, or at least a large creek flowed into the interior tip of the inlet that flared out to two rocky prominatories. Thin strips of sand fringed the bay and coconut trees waved in the soft breeze, filling the night with a gentle rustling. During the war the place must have been a handy place for warships and privateers to take on water and fresh provisions, as well as a handy place to offload cargo and prisoners and to bring prize ships for condemnation. Now the place was little more than a way station, a backwater just as Markus had said. The old trade, gold and spices, must have mostly dried up once the major shipping routes became safer.

They bay glittered under the silver moonlight and, down by the untidy settlement, where yellow lantern light was cast out over the water. The parapet seemed very dark compared to the shining water. Here and there a lantern hung from a wrought iron sconce but the commander of the fort obviously either didn’t see the need for a tremendous amount of light, or, more likely, was too cheap to spend money on the oil the lantern required. Calliope pulled herself fully up onto the parapet and looked around. There was still no sign of sentries, merely a second small tower from which the look out and the signal light should be located. There was no signal light tonight, another sign that the forts commander was both venal and incompetent. It was sometimes the case that component officers got assigned to backwaters, but that tended to be because of a lack of political connection. Calliope was happy to discover that whoever was in command here wasn’t a master tactician.

“Which way from…” Calliope began. A gunshot sounded in the night down by the group of small buildings, a moment later a scream went up and there was a ragged volley of gunfire. Calliope could see flashes from one of the larger buildings. It must have been a tavern of some sort and as such had soldiers in it. Someone in the landing party had obviously screwed up. There was a sudden commotion and two half dressed soldiers clattered down the stairs, shouting with alarm. Calliope stabbed one in the stomach and kicked the screaming man over the parapet a moment before Markus skewered the other one.

“So much for secrecy,” she concluded.

"Aye." Markus breathed, too busy to stop and wipe the blood off of his backsword. "No wonder they chose to be pirates rather than city thieves." Markus turned to leave, before he heard a grunt behind him, and stopped for a moment. He turned back around to see the man with a hole in his chest weakly reach for the pistol strapped behind his back, and in an instant Markus moved to simply cut the man's hand off.

But he hesitated, and caught himself. It wasn't too long ago when he was a soldier, both for country and for hire. After a second of contemplation, he ran the man through the neck to end his life quickly. A soldier's death. "We need to get to the top floor." Markus said. They both moved in unison, rapier and backsword out, moving through the short corridor lined with golden and crimson banners, and finding the stone stairs. The thick wooden door opened to reveal six men, four with muskets and two with large axes. Two muskuteers were at the fore.

"Matar a los bastardos!"

Calliope ran a musketeer through before he could get his gun up. Markus cut one's arm in a flash with his offhand rondel dagger, causing him to drop the primitive firearm. The rakish corsair caught it, spun the musket until its butt struck the soldier in the chin, and he shot into the crowd. The smoke and shot in such close proximity bought them some time and Calliope slammed the door shut, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of her vision. "That way is a bit too crowded for my tastes." she said dryly.

The door they had come in from suddenly opened, and another three men stepped out. A crossbowman with a scar over his lip, and two younger pistol wielding soldiers. Likely they had heard the earlier musketshots. The crossbowman was ready, firing a bolt and nearly hitting Markus, the bolt struck the wooden door, quivering, mere inches from his face. "And that way is a little hostile." He replied, and the two turned around to the northern end of the hall at the center of the corridor, the only area soldiers had yet to burst out from.

Markus raised his hand and uttered a quick word of power, and fire sudden burst forth from Markus and engulfed the two pistoliers and crossbowman, the pistols cracking as they shot wildly. The door they had been holding suddenly burst open, but Markus and Calliope were already moving, the Captain holding his First Mate's forearm to help her move in the confusion, just in case. Two musket balls ricocheted off the stone walls just as the two slammed the door behind them, finding themselves in what looked to be a darkened office.

Calliope cursed, realizing the only way out was behind them, unless they wished to leap 30 feet to the hard ground. Markus made it to the window, opening it up and looking both down and up. Behind him, Calliope used her weight to knock over a cabinet in front of the door. She was answered by bullets and crossbow bolts puncturing the all too thin door, scything into a wall. "Any other bright ideas?" she asked Markus.

Markus ran his hand along the stone window bottom, checking to see if it was wide enough to stand on. "Here," he bade her breathlessly, adrenaline keeping him honed to a razor's edge. She moved over to look out at what he was gazing at, and looked up to see a small balcony above them, a man's height away with thin openings in the stone pillars that held the embroidered railing aloft. It was too thin for Markus, but Calliope...

"You'll need to squeeze those breasts through, but..." he said, trying to make light of the situation. Another volley rang into the room, and an axe blade suddenly pierced the door. Markus quickly knelt down and raised his hands to let her get a boost out of the window. If Markus could climb the outer wall, Calliope could with her slim fingers. "Find some rope when you get up there," he told her, trying his best to sound steady.
@Penny

Calliope looked speculatively at the narrow gap above and then unclasped her sword belt and passed it to Markus. Drawing the knife from her boot she clasped it between her teeth and shimmied out onto the narrow ledge. Below in the town men and women were screaming and a bronze bell began to toll in completely unnecessary warning. From the walls there was no way to tell what was going on although Calliope saw a trio of half dressed soldiers rush from the tavern. One of them clutched at his stomach and pitched into the street, evidence that at least some of the crew were still firing.

"This seemed alot simpler when you were explaining it on the beach," she snapped and then reached up and caught the ledge with her fingertips. Taking a deep breath she pulled herself up, hanging momentarily above the yawning gulf. She pulled her stomach tight and looped one leg up and through the railing, for a moment the silk of her leggings slid on the stone but she got her other leg up in time to catch the weight. Cursing she pulled herself through the gap, scraping herself at breast and hip. She made it through the narrow oppening and stood up to find herself on a small balcony. Curtains of dirty fabric flapped in the wind across an arched stone doorway. There was another splintering crash downstairs and Markus' voice echoed up to her.

"Anny time now!"

Thinking the curtains might make a suitable rope she ran into the room. Something struck her across the jaw and she went down, crashing into the side of the arch. She bounced off the archway and tumbled into the chamber another blow swept over her head and she had the sudden smell of sweat and steel. Calliope struck out with her right foot and was rewarded with a grunt of pain as she connected with a shin. She could just make out a half dressed figure before the man threw himself on top of her, his arm closing around her throat, closing her airway. Calliope gasped and choked. Her assailant was to strong for her to fight off and she could feel spots dance across her eyes. She pressed her hand against her opponents neck and wheezed a word. There was a sudden flash of light and heat and the man screamed, the pressure on her throat vanished as the man rolled away, his face was a mask of pain illuminated by his own burning hair. Calliope snapped another word and a jet of force struck him in the chest, pitching him back into the darkness of the chamber where he crashed into one of the half seen walls.

Still gasping she rolled to her feet, dizzy from the choking and the two spells. She seized a curtain and tore it from the hooks that secured it. A quick knot secured it to the railing and she pitched it over so it spilled down like a dirty gray rope. She turned and strode across the room to where the rooms sole occupant, her attacker and she presumed, the fortress' commander, groaned feebly in pain. She grabbed a handful of the man's hair and dragged him towards the window. She touched the book through the leather of her satchel, though she didn't actually draw it forth. SHe had learned the spell she had planned to attempt during the voyage and there was little light to go by. The words seemed to hover just behind her eyes and she opened her mouth and began to chant, the words spilling from her lips like liquid. Motes of darkness began to gather around her hands as she chanted.
@POOHEAD189

A third chop of the Axe opened a large, gaping hole in the doorway. Two muskets poked through the hole, and Markus could see the eyes of them men, and he could hear the order of "fire!" The Captain leaped over a desk, feeling the air whip by him as the musket balls slammed into the wall a moment previously. The blademage felt a small pressure on his side. Had he been hit? He didn't have time to check. Instead, landing on the floor he saw the curtain drape across the window opening.

Desperately and without hesitation, he rose and grabbed a hold of the curtain. He tugged on it to make sure the weight would hold, and then pulled himself up, sword sheathed and climbing. Behind him, more shouting and another blow of the axe.

Calliope would see a callused hand grab the edge of the balcony railing, and Markus would crest and tumble onto the balcony floor, taking deep breaths. There was a cacophony of sounds in the courtyard below, but he didn't have time to check on his crew members. Hopefully they were not engaging too hard or they would be dead. Instead he gathered himself and took measure of the room. A wicked grin spread across his face when he saw Calliope holding what had to be the groaning Commander and chanting a spell. For a former tyrant, she knew how to take matters into her own hands.

He passed her by, and rummaged through the room for a torch, or anything he could potentially burn. There were papers on the desk, and the painting of a heavily rogued mermaid behind the throne-like chair looked flammable. On the wall by the door that men were more than likely running up to in a matter of minutes, he saw a torch. His eye scanned the room further, and at the foot of the bed, there was a chest. Markus went back and fished for the keys in the man's pockets, producing two. He stepped away, leaving Calliope to her incantation. He felt slightly jealous and underwhelming. He only recognized two syllables of the magical language she was now spilling out as if it was her mother tongue.

Unlocking the chest at the foot of the bed, he opened it to reveal personal items. Letters of Marque, a pocket watch with a woman in it, a crumpled hat of old, and a contrasting, fabulous captain's uniform. No gold. "Damn," he said, but caught himself. No, he knew. He made his way to the desk and pressed his foot below it, feeling the carpet give slightly. He felt an instant wave of relief, knowing that if they had no gold to show for this farce, his crew would shatter to the seven winds or mutiny.

Taking the rondel dagger, he carved out bits of the carpet to find a small trap door. He opened it and hauled out another small chest, unlocking it to reveal what he guessed had to be a stone weight in gold and twice that in silver, and a necklace with a ruby pendant that caught the eye enchantingly. Markus immediately grabbed the necklace, not to keep, but to be quartered off to whomever deserved it the most. They would open the chest together on the ship and they would all want that first. He then lifted the small chest up and placed it on the desk.

Calliope's spell was reaching a crescendo, and Markus knew there was little time. He vaulted the desk and did what Calliope did below, pushing a cabinet in front of the door. He grabbed the torch and lit in, moving over to the balcony and hauling up the curtain. He swiftly cut the curtain's rope to separate it from the cloth as a whole, and then burned the cloth itself, lighting a large fire that beckoned into the night as if a beacon.

Moments later, as Markus collected the small bit of rope he cut off from the curtain, the gun batteries of the Weathered Witch opened fire. Cannon balls punched through the tavern and barrack, two shots for both buildings. Markus went to gather the loot from within the room.
@Penny

A sense of euphoric triumph flowed through Calliope as she continued to chant. She could feel the arcane powers gathering and distantly sense the runes as they began to blaze on her skin. The world seemed to sink into the gray fog that she had felt when she called the wind in Calaverde and she again felt the unnerving presence just out of sight. Unlike before, this time she could see Markus and the garrison commander clearly. Both of them were bleeding in an exaggerated scarlet that seemed to hammer with the beat of her heart. She strained to make out the chest of gold, which seemed luminous and insubstantial. The real world seemed to be fading faster than it had back in Calaverde but she was better prepared for it. The commanders lips moved though no sound she could hear emerged from them. They spell continued to build within her like a ship being constructed at incredible speed. There was an uncomfortable sense that whatever lurked in the fog was coming closer. Without conscious thought the dagger in her hand raked across the throat of the captured officer and a sheet of scarlet, almost painful to her arcane senses, exploded outwards. Columns of black entropic energy enveloped her, Markus and the chest and everything vanished into darkness.

Hands shook her awake and the scent of leaf mould filled her nostrils. Calliope blinked her eyes, and sat up feeling decidedly queasy. The concerned face of Jim looked down at her and he immediately blushed and looked away. Markus was sitting up a few feet away from her cursing a blue streak. Beside him the chest lay across a fallen log. Calliope looked down at her hand, faint yellow gold runes were fading even as she watched.

“What… what happened,” she asked, looking around and taking in the lush tropical forest. Cannons boomed somewhere off in the distance and she heard the sound of masonry shattering somewhere nearby. People were screaming and guns were going off. The landing party seemed to be clustered around them, taking cover in the low gulch.

“We… we saw the castle… well you know,” Jim stammered. The youth’s face was smudged with ash and Calliope could smell powderburns. She didn’t know. The spell had been intended to intimidated the locals into surrendering but it obviously hadn’t worked as she had intended. She wiped her hands on the leaves, finding them tacky with blood and stood up moving unsteadily to the edge of the gulch. Across the lip she looked down into the village. Despite the fact of cannon fire there were people in the streets. All of them looked slack jawed up towards the small rocky rise on which the keep stood… well mostly stood. A great black column blazed from the heart of the structure seeming to suck in the light. It rose to the heavens like an impaling spike that some angel had hurled from the heavens. As she watched the column began to disintegrate with the slow majesty of a landslide. Chunks of the black substance reigned down on the castle like hale and where they struck the stone seemed to smoke and crumble. Within moments the whole fortification was consumed by the falling black rain, even the supporting rock seemed to crumble as though a thousand years of weathering occured within a few seconds.

According to the spell book, what little she could make out of it, the spell was supposed to summon ‘Hyadic fire’ which she had intended to use to intimidate the locals into surrendering. It certainly didn’t mention teleportation or whatever had happened to the fortress. Her head swam with half remembered sensations and she had the odd conviction that it was something about the blood she had used for the spell which was to blame. Her hand slipped into her pouch where the codex still resided. She wanted very much to take it out and study the text and see what new insights she could gain but now was not the time.

“Exactly as I had planned,” she lied modestly. The guns had fallen silent on both sides now as they, no doubt, gaped at the impressive destruction that had occured. Several of the crew looked at her in shock and horror, one of the triplets even made a sign against evil.

“Captain, I suspect you might find them amenable to surrender.”

The crew found themselves on deck not hours later, with every bit of the outpost either pillaged or burned. All of the booty was then collected and piled onto the boat, save the two cannons and ballista they received from the fort, that were all now being placed down on the gun decks. Calliope had been right, they had been willing to surrender after that display of magical force. Even beforehand, they had been losing too many soldiers to retain any cohesion or order. They just hadn't know it yet.

Killing hostages was bad business. Particularly soldiers and men of worth like the commander of the outpost. You could ransom men like that, or give them a spot on your crew if they so wished it. But this commander was a bit too highborn to accept ransom, and a bit too lowborn to be worth much. And by the way he was acting, spitting at Markus' feet and claiming Calliope was the daughter of the devil, Markus had little choice but to make an example of him.

Markus had seen it before, but he had never ordered keelhauling. Jim tired a rope to the Commander's hands and tossed it over the mainmast, and over the entirety of the ship. Halvar and Corsica pulled at Markus' order...It only took fifteen minutes, but once they lowered the Commander's soaked and bleeding corpse onto the deck of the Weather Witch, the other soldiers, tied up and unarmed, were willing to cooperate.

Halvar had been in dire straits, having been shot in the stomach and cut across the collarbone. But they had found the cache of healing potions, salves, and herbs the outpost kept and saved him. Everyone expected him to be bedridden for a few days, and he did indeed look weaker. But the Norgardian was made of strong stuff and still stood with the crew while they divided up the booty, the tied up men of the outpost watching helplessly as their belongings were quartered off. Grimey's share looked almost as big as her.

As Markus distributed the wealth, Corsica looked a bit put off, raising an eyebrow and standing tall, her hands on the hilt of her sword. "Do you think because you lead us that you deserve more of the treasure?" she asked, dangerously. Scythians were known to be clever for barbarians, but they were also blunt as hammers.

Markus looked at her. "Is this your first time on a pirate ship?" he asked her. She nodded after a moment's hesitation. Markus held his hand up to halt the snickers.

"Captain and First mate get double shares. Quartermaster gets a share and a half. That's how it's always been." he said. "Unless you see fit to challenge me for it."

There was a flash of eagerness in her eyes, but it disappeared after a moment. "I wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty face." she joked, and Markus grinned. The Captain called for Sron, and the Gnoll was finishing hauling the last of the rum they had requisitioned, and he motioned them over to the piled bottles of the stuff. "This is freely and evenly given," he said. Before he had even finished, the crew were running over to it. "We sail tomorrow, hangovers or no!" he roared.

Sketti stood beside him, chuckling darkly. "They're a fine crew, but a bit boisterous."

"As long as they can sail and fight." Markus replied. The Dwarf nodded. "Aye. What of the prisoners?"

"Take them to the brig, I'll speak to them tomorrow." Markus said, turning back and walking over to the rum pile. The tripplettes moved out of the way as if they were the parting sea, and Markus grabbed a bottle and tossed it to Calliope, motioning her to follow him to the cabin. Once inside, Markus would reach into his coat and take out the amulet he had gathered from the chest. It was an obsidian-looking ruby, carved and cut a thousand thousand times, as black as coal and attached to a silver necklace. What's more, it was in the shape of a Dragon's head.

"You did fine work." he told her, placing the amulet on the desk and sliding it over to her. "I don't have the skill to see what this does, but you earned it."

Calliope lifted the necklace in her right hand allowing the fine chain to play through her fingers. She could sense the arcane power of the thing though it was oddly passive for a magical artifact. During her time as Tyrant she had encountered various ensorcelled items but this seemed somehow different. A slight smile tugged at her full lip. She supposed it was too late to ask the captain what the trinket did, assuming he had ever known.

The crew had been fortunate that the raid had not ended in complete disaster. Calliope had recommended that Markus not ‘gut whoever fucked up’ by firing his weapon too early and he had reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t a decision made out of kindness and compassion, but rather a political judgement that it was more important the crew enjoyed its first victory than pay for its mistakes. They had been lucky that the outposts mage had died of a fever a few weeks ago. It wouldn’t have taken much to turn a rather mudded victory into a bloody defeat.

“Thank you,” she said before slipping the chain around her neck. It had evidently been made for a man and was a little too long, the amulet sinking down almost between her bosoms. The amulet felt unexpectedly warm against her skin, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant, rather like the heat of a roaring hearth but from well across the room.

Markus was rolling out the sea chart on his table using bottles of rum to pin the corners down. An old brass compass twitched slowly with the roll of the ship as he paced out distances with a pair of dividers. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had done some shopping in Stormsreach. Markus sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he considered the voyage ahead. Crossing the sea of swords to the Westerlands and the Colonies was an arduous endeavor and they only had a few weeks at most before the trade winds shifted and made the task impossible. That same shift in wind would be what the treasure fleet would be putting into port to avoid, spending the next two or three months refitting before they risked the open seas when spring bought favorable winds once again.

Callope watched the calculations with vague distaste. It irritated her that Markus could do something that she, with all her learning and culture, could not even if that was something as mundane as plotting a course.

“What do you plan to do with the prisoners?” Calliope asked after a few minutes. It seemed foolish to her to feed men that were not working, especially with a long voyage ahead. Did he plan to ransom them? If so to whom? She tried a mouthful of rum, it was rough and sticky with molasses reminding her of the blood spurting over her hands as she sliced into the neck of her victim. There was an odd frisson of almost sexual pleasure at the thought and for a moment she thought she felt the amulet at her breast pulse with energy.

Markus rolled the sextant over the parchment, placing his calculations and marking off the estimated time of arrival they would have at their next few stops. The trade winds were against them at the moment, but the time would soon be right for them to head southeast and disrupt the fleet that was set to guard the shipment of gold. But before that they needed more guns, and a battle plan. Grimey had come at the right time. Their next destination would be the abandoned fort.

Markus could tell Calliope was pleased with the reward. He had to admit he had pegged the woman wrong, for thinking her as soft as most nobles, or as an untrustworthy crew member. The crew had made the attack on the fort bloody, but Markus and Calliope had done well in their attack and she had more than pulled her weight. Against all odds, a Tyrant and a former Knight seemed to be doing rather well as a First Mate and a Captain, at least initially.

The magic she had displayed with the book had been almost catastrophic, and he still couldn't tell if that had been on purpose. But it had worked, and he had to admit she knew more about magic than him without the book than he ever would. He had the vaguest inkling of the amulet he had given her. Something powerful and archaic that gave the smallest bit of pressure on one's sixth magesense. The Blademage was confident she would know how to handle it, and the item somehow enhanced her dark beauty even further, if that was at all possible.

At the first mate's question, he looked up from his map at her and gave a satisfied smile. "Even now the soldiers in the brig are talking among themselves." he began. "Some will try to argue against cooperation, but give them a night without food and they'll soften up. Tomorrow at noon, we'll see which of them will accept my offer to join the crew." Outside of the Cabin, a hearty song was being sung by some of the sailors, a cheerful background noise that showed their high spirits. But it didn't give a light heartedness to Markus' next words. "The ones that refuse, I'll kill. Slowly." The last word was said hesitantly. He hated the idea of harming soldiers more than was necessary.

Markus strode over to the leftside of his room, where he had placed a musket he had gathered from the raid, and where his brace of pistols were harnessed. The Captain unbuckled his sword belt and hooked it around the weapon's rack as he continued, taking off his frock coat to reveal his tunic suntanned and cut arms, hard from years of sailing and swordplay. "You never asked me why we attacked a fort rather than a village. It wasn't my kind heart and soft moral center..."

"You didn't just want a victory for the men. You wanted able sailors." Calliope reasoned, and Markus gave her a grin to show she had guessed correctly. The man let out a ragged sigh and headed back over to the map, leaning over it and tracing his finger along the searoutes. "We're light on the load, and we have strong crew members... but we need more men to sail the ship or we won't be fast enough to be effective, or make the deadlines I'm hoping for. If we can get the Cannons from the Fort Grimey mentioned in three days, we'll be on schedule. We need at least two more men to join for that to happen. Hopefully three, to help with our new cannons, assuming we get more."

He studied the map a few more moments, and then gazed up at Calliope once more. "The next few weeks will be bloody." he said, and a primal look bloomed in his eyes, very similar to Calliope's when the rum reminded her of fresh blood. "Go and celebrate while you can, and then get some rest."
@Penny

It turned out that celebrating was not so easy. Although there was a boisterous celebration going on upon the foredeck it quieted as she approached. There were various mutterings of ‘Ma’am’ and a general knuckling of foreheads but people seemed reluctant to meet her eye. Surprised but not alarmed she weant aft to the small cabin that served as the ward room for what she thought of as the officers. Although there were no formal ranks, Sketti and Grimey naturally filled command roles, the dwarf because he controlled the wages and the gnome because… well Calliope wasn’t quite sure why but she seemed to have become the ships unofficial mastergunner. The way a few of the crewmen blushed when she glared at them suggested there had been harsh words exchanged but the accuracy of the guns last night had been uncommonly good.

Both the dwarf and the gnome were very drunk by now, though with Sketti it wasn’t easy to tell. He was currently taking great swigs from a keg of ale they had captured. The crew was hitting the stuff pretty hard but that was partly of necessity. Wine and spirits would keep but ale would turn rotten on a voyage of any distance. Both of the gave her a glance and then Grimey looked quickly away. Sketti merely gave a specacular belch before grabbing some of the fresh baked bread they had looted and began stuffing it into his mouth, covering his ale soaked beard with crumbs. Grimey looked to be about to excuse herself but Calliope sat down beside her pinning her between the table and the wall.

“Alright what is going on?” she demanded coldly. The gnome looked to Sketti for aid but the dwarf merely continued to consume his improbable moutful.

“Going on with what?” Grimey asked uncomfortabley. Calliope drew the dagger from her sash and laid it across the table.

“With the looks and dark glances,” she said her voice cold and implacable. Grimey gulped visibly.

“There is a rumor going around and I’m sure its just a rumor …”

“Out with it,” Calliope demanded.

“That you are in league with demons and you sacrificed a man to them to destroy the fort,” Grimey all but squeaked, her words tumbling over each other in their haste to escape her mouth. Calliope felt cold amusement followed by irritation. She moved out of the way to let the Gnome flee below decks leaving her alone with Sketti.

“Well that is just perfect,” she said snippily taking one of the bottles of wine and pulling the cork with a practiced motion.

“Are you?” Sketti asked blearily.

“Perfect?” Calliope asked with an arch smile, “Well fairly close.”

“In league with ye old powers of darkness,” the dwarf pressed. Callipe shook her head.

“Of course not, its just some rumor those idiots in the brig cooked up to explain how we beat them is all.” she responded, taking a long drink from the neck of the bottle.

“Even so you might consider locking your door, who knows what superstitious sailors might take it into their heads to do…”

Steel flashed and clanged against one another, and Markus' hilt struck the back of Jim's head, sending the lad to the deck roughly. The triplettes cheered and laughed, and Halvar gave a booming laugh of his own as he watched. Jax the tattooed Half Elf made one of his rare visits out of the crow's nest and taunted the lad in good fun. Corsica and Sron watched silently, though it seemed the Gnoll was a bit too preoccupied with eating his ham leg just as Sketti had been improbably consuming copious amounts of rum with Calliope in the aft room.

"You ran at me like the devil was chasing you." Markus chuckled, and motioned with his sword for Jim to get back on his feet. The younger man did so, grunting away his pain and embarrassment. He grabbed the sidesword he'd dropped, doing his best to remember the stance Markus had shown him. The Captain smacked the lad's hip with the flat of his backsword. "Legs back, bend your knees." he lectured. "Never let your body get between the blade and the enemy, unless you're mad with the fear and have nothing to lose."

"Careful lad, else ye'll end up like ol' Sketti One arm!" Jax called behind them, between swigs.

Jim nodded, and without warning attacked with a thrust. Markus continued to speak as he parried and moved his blade almost imperceptibly, angling the blade so that Jim nearly ran himself through the Captain's sword. "We don't have armor here like they do on the continent. We'd drown before we could use it against a blade, and it does little against sea beasts that would swallow you whole. You need to always be careful when fighting blade to blade."

The sun was now well and truly down, and the crew were getting a tad tired, though the merriment was still in the air. Aeltheron the Elven scholar strode out of the lower decks, his attention on a book of some arcane persuasion. Markus caught his attention by speaking in his native tongue. Aeltheron raised an eyebrow, and shrugged in acceptance of the secret proposal. "Good. Jim, you're the High One's errand boy until you learn the sword properly."

"I'm just switching masters." Jim said to himself softly, gathering himself up. Before he made his way to the scholar, he stopped by Markus and gave a nod. "Thank you for the lesson, Captain."

Markus slapped the flat of his blade on Jim's head and told him to hurry up. The others laughed once more.

---

The crew had stayed up a bit, gossiping and telling old tales of the sea. Halvar and Sron had taken up watch. The Gnoll's night vision keen, and he was less apt to listen to the words of the hairless apes. Halvar was a hard fighting, hard drinking Norgardian, but he knew his duty and could hold his liquor nearly as well as a Dwarf. Calliope had made her way back to her room, and the dining crew went silent as she passed by, their suspicious gazes looking out of the door as she passed. Once she made it to her room, there would be a marking on the door.

A dagger mark, it looked like. A simple cut.

Markus had gone to bed early, and had drank little. He had a goal of being up before the crew proper, and as dawn approached he was already placing on his frock coat and weapons, his bandana and even his tricone hat. The rings that he had stolen from his father those years ago twinkled in the ascending sunlight, and a slight fuzziness to his lower face keyed him in that he needed to shave within the next few days, likely forming the barest hint of a goatee by now.

He opened the door, and stepped out onto the main deck. Halvar had since gone below, and the only one on top was Sron, the beastman curled up and slumbering like a prized, albeit feral and mangy Markus thought, hound. He snickered and stepped over to the Gnoll loudly, kicking him. The monster twitched and then lashed out with a snarl, Markus only being just nimble enough to avoid an instinctual bite.

"Oh...sorry, Captain." the Gnoll said.

The ship was nestled in an inlet on the opposite side of the island, surrounded by trees and sand banks to remain hidden on the offchance of approaching ships. Even now, the ruined fort still wafted smoke into the blue horizon, as if an upside down parody of a waterfall.

"Take a meal, Sron. Once you are done, wake the crew."

The Gnoll showed his teeth, and its breath had become even fouler. Markus had to guess it was a pleased smile. The Gnoll ate thrice the amount of most men, and given it would take awhile to devour its ration, it would give Markus some time to think on how to speak to the men in the brig. He thought it best that he personally would go below decks and see their current status, and down he went, past the crew quarters and into the lower depths of the ship, however Calliope's room was a bit too far back for him to notice anything amiss.

Even though the daylight streamed down the stairs, the brig was still dark. He entered with a lamp hanging, creaking at the end of its grip. The brig was a fair size for a sloop, with four cages in all, giving the floor a cross shape. Each cage could house 6 men, and Markus saw fit to place all eight prisoners in one last night. Only as he passed each cage, he saw nothing behind the bars. And at the last one, his light revealed, to his growing fear, an opened door, along with Jim and Grimey, tied up.

"Sink me." Markus cursed, putting the lamp down and cutting their binds, ungagging them. No sooner had he done so that Grimey began to sputter and squeak. "Slow down and answer me, damn you." he told her, grabbing her chin roughly and pressing a dagger to her cheek. He was not angry at her, but her babbling wouldn't help him. It was then Jim had ungagged himself. "Captain! Bill let them out! The blighters aint left yet, what's more!"

The Captain whipped his gaze to the lad. "Where did they go?" Wherever it was, they wouldn't make it off the ship.

---

Her bed was soft and warm, and she had even had a curtain draped over the only window in her room, giving her an appearance of safety and seclusion. Dark were her dreams however, of a nameless fear and a maw that threatened to swallow her up. At the edges of her perception, Calliope could feel something hard contrast the softness of her bed, and an uncomfortable feeling that pulled her out of one nightmare into another as she was being gagged and bound, Dre Costan soldier's standing over her, chuckling evilly and holding makeshift weapons and crudgels.

The cloth now in her throat tightly, one of them muttered in broken northland speech. "Now she cannot wield her spells. Her blood spills as easily as any man's."
@Penny

Calliope struggled uselessly as the escaped soldiers pulled her to her feet. She tried to shout but all she managed to do was make a muted groaning sound. Something cold and sharp pressed up against her throat she quieted at one.

“We should just cut her throat now,” one of the soldiers urged, his eyes were very wide, obviously terrified. The man with the knife shook his head.

“Nah a dark haired piece like this is worth real money, to the Inquisition if no one else, besides unless we can sail this ship ourselves we need some hostages,” the knifeman retorted, his fellows were searching her room pulling out clothing and wine, one of them drew her rapier, setting aside the broken bottle he had been clutching as a weapon. Unfortunately for the looters most of her valuable possessions were in the ensorcelled chest. One of the men heaved at the chest but couldn’t move it. He looked around the chest looking for some sort of catch but there was nothing save the handplate.

“Forget it!” the knifeman snapped. Correctly surmising that securing the witch was more important than looting her quarters.

“Lets find the captain! You two,” he commanded pointing to two of the soldiers seeming at random, “Stay here and guard her, if she gives you any trouble, kill her.”

The soldiers not on guard rushed out of the room leaving Calliope alone with her captors. With her arms bound behind her back and her mouth securely gagged there was little she could do other than seethe. One of the soldiers leered at her unpleasantly revealing several blackened teeth. Calliope only glared back at him which seemed to encourage him.

“Well there is no reason we can’t be friendly while we wait,” the soldier laughed and shoved Calliope back onto the bed before flopping atop her to pin her with his weight. His companion voiced some half hearted protest but the first soldier was already mashing his tongue against her lips, she turned her face away in disgust.

“Ohh playing hard to get you uppity bitch?” the soldier mocked before taking hold of her night shirt and ripping it open.

“Not bad, hmmm what have we here…” the soldier said as his eyes fell on the amulet that Markus had given her, still hanging from the chain around her neck, glinting just above her bared breasts.

“Who says you can’t have fun and profit at the same time,” the brute chuckled as he reached down for the amulet. As his fingers touched the silver his chuckle transmuted to an agonized scream. Hot blood spattered across Calliope’s chest as the soldier snatched back his hand, or at any rate what was left of it. Rags of bone and tendon hung in ruin as though some great maw had savaged the man. Calliope was on her feet in an instant, driving her foot into the man's crotch, he doubled over and tried to catch himself on his ruined hand, eliciting another scream of agony. His partner, shocked to inaction by the sudden and unexpected turn of events, finally managed to pull the knife he had stolen from one of the other crew members. Calliope crashed into him, sending him toppling to the ground, she spun and drove her heel down on the back of the maimed man's neck with a satisfying crunch. The second soldier, having regained his feet, hit her from behind and they both crashed into wall, hard enough to rattle the glass cased lantern that hung from one of the cross beams. Calliope slipped around the man, keeping her footing with some difficulty, and ran out the door and down the short corridor onto the deck.

The deck was ominously deserted save for one of the soldiers crouching behind a cannon. He looked up at the half naked woman, clearly unsure of whether to shout and raise the alarm but before he could decide the soldier who had been guarding her hit her with a flying tackle that sent them both sprawling, without her hands to balance Calliope tumbled hard on the deck, rolling desperately to try to get back to her feet. She just managed to straighten up in time to see a heavy oar sweep towards her head she staggered back to avoid the blow, hit the rail and tumbled over, plunging into the ocean below.