The noises of yelling behind the iron studded doors gave Markus the indication of just how close he was to being verified. Anyone in ten paces could see the murder in Captain Flintbrook's eyes, but the last man to speak was a bit too into his own authority for him to actually notice. It was not going to do for Markus to kill or be killed in order to enter the room, so Emmaline thought fast. Chamon was the wind of gold and metal, but metallic chemicals took all kinds of forms. She reach into the sack of coins at Markus' waist and snatched it, causing him to turn around, confusion on his face. She placed her finger to her full lips and began to incant a spell with the seven coins in her palms. 

"Oi you! We're talking to you lout! Keep moving and take that cloaked figure with you." The guard threatened. 

With a flourished of her hands that seemed akin to a strange faux pas in any other circumstance, the coins disappeared. Behind Emmaline, Markus saw...Emmaline? Seven of them! Uncloaked and wearing the duchess's dress, sashaying across the street and giving the guards suggestive looks, their breasts thrust out on display. Markus understood immediately, taking the true Emmaline by the hand and pulling her forward with him as the guards watched dumbly. They might have been sentries, but they were pirates first and foremost. And a pirate never passes up a good thing, some chasing after them and others still enchanted for another few brief moments. Sketti laughed at their idiocy, striding past them with his shaking beard.

"Good job," Markus told her, unlatching the huge oaken door handle. "Don't let it get to your head though. We need to stay alert." 

"'Get to my head? You look at me just the same wa-'" She said, yanking on the door handle like a dog with a toy. Markus snatched her hand in his strong grip and drew her gaze, whispering to her. "That is not what I meant, and tonight we can stroke more than our egos. But as of now, we're about to step into the court of the Pirate Lords. Keep your mouth shut unless they ask you a direct question, understood? And do not tell them you can do magic. Pirates are superstitious enough as is." 

His dark eyes bore into her until he saw her nod, and he opened the door; far too loudly for his liking. The door, more like a small gate, swung open with an ominous moan that drowned out most of the yelling and bickering within the atrium. He glimpsed through the crack in the door, but once he saw many pirates already looking he way, he knew there was no going back. Markus Flintbrook pushed the door open fully, warm light pouring onto his face. It encompassed Emmaline as well, and even so cloaked, it showed her curves in a way that betrayed the fact she was a shapely woman. Sketti stepped between them, chest out and surveying the room. 

The room was tall, reaching at least two dozen paces skyward. Kraken bones and Dragonscales hung limply upon the ceiling next to extravagant chandeliers. Framing the room were two halves of a wrecked ship, hollowed out with seats carved into it for the lordly retainers to sit and give second hand votes, whilst the pirate lords themselves sat on a great table of ivory and seabeast bone at the center of the room. The noises of the pirates ceasing, Markus saw every eye in the room turn his way. To his credit he merely stared back, not batting an eye at the sudden change of mood. 

He did not know much about the pirate lords individually. There looked to be nine members. Two Tileans, an Arabyan, a Norscan, a Brettonian, Two men of the Empire, a Dwarf slayer who was missing one more limb than Sketti, and what looked to be an Estalian Bravo. Behind them all was someone even Markus recognized. In a sweeping red coat with gold filigree and a matching hat, three large exotic bird feathers standing atop his admiral hat, and a white beard that could make even Dwarfs jealous, sat Jaego Roth. The leader of the Grand Alliance and High Lord of Sartosa.

"Who dares enter this sacred meeting?" A lanky corsair asked, hanging over the railing of his seat just above Markus. He looked bald across his entire body, and it seemed he had been raddled with plague. Yellow eyes and only half his teeth were visible from where Markus could see. "Have ye a spot on the council?" 

"Not yet." Markus said, eyeing the Lords as he spoke. The room erupted in laughter, leading with the rasping cackle of the weak limbed pirate above them. Only Jaego Roth and three of the more conservative lords did not share in the ridiculous mirth. Markus shared a look with Sketti, who only grinned. The Captain decided to take control of the situation, reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol. The deafening shot that blew the head off the lout that interrupted him caused the laughter to cease, and the headless corpse of the lanky corsair slid off the railing and hit the ground before Markus' feet in a heap. 

Guns and cutlasses were drawn, and Markus took no time in retrieving his other Druchii head, holding it by its black hair, unbagged for all to see. It hung like some grisly lantern that emitted a foul odor rather than light, and for the moment no one attacked him as he strode forward. "I seek a letter of Marque for me and my crew!" He called aloud, echoing across the room. "Will you hear my claim and grant my crew membership, or did we go to the wrong den of sea thieves?" 
[@Penny]