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It was never truly quiet on the Isla d'Amato. There were always fights to be had, money to be made, and merriment to partake in. The lives of the pirates who had made this place their own and gradually driven out most of its original residents were often short and violent. Hence, they were known to use each of the day's twenty-five hours in near-equal measure.

Yet, there were eight of them - youths, as all too many pirates were - who were here for other reasons. Having split into pairs, they wound their way through the island's taverns, discovering the particular dangers, delights, and characters of each. There remained, however, something methodical about their approach. 

[hider=Group One: Ingrid and Onarr]The extremely tall girl and extremely short boy are objects of immediate curiosity upon approaching The Main. The inside of the stout, workmanlike building is well-organized. There is little in the way of gambling as one might expect it. Instead, most tables are either circular or booths. Shipping schedules are posted. There are chalkboards with the names of various ships and captains. They appear to be some sort of leaderboard. Avvisos and insurance offeringgs circulate just like pretty waitresses, but the latter join in both the banter and the more serious discussions that seem to be taking place between different groups. They are a local resource and business partners, it appears.

These are, indeed, pirates, but the corsairs are a very specific breed: businesslike and professional. In order to play hard, they work hard too. As they take the temperature of the room, the pair are quickly approached by a number of suitors and addressed mostly in Avincian. It is evidently rather clear that they're not regulars. They receive offers to join crews, offers of trade, and thinly-veiled threats that this isn't a place where kids like them would do well. One captain, in particular, makes an impression. 

"You reek of magic," he warns, sniffing and taking a sip of his beer. "So that leads me to believe that you're either here lookin to get hired as muscle, you're sent by someone else with an interest, or..." He trails off, pausing and narrowing his eyes. His fingernails are dirty, his teeth awful, and his clothes tawdry and ostentatious. A thick miasma of perfume hangs in the air around him. "It's something [i]else,[/i] isn't it?" He flashes a subtle glimpse over his shoulder. He has crew members nearby: quite a few of them. "How about you tell me about that and we can make a deal. I get your money, you get whatcha want. Nobody else messes with yeh." He takes another sip of his beer, studying them. "Xavier Falzon is a man of his word." He waits for their response.[/hider]

[hider=Group Two: Trypano and Ismette] Ismette went in hard on Captain Vyrachi and his crew and they proved... she'd have liked to say 'useful idiots', but it was far more of the latter than the former. Mostly, the captain spent time regaling her with tales of his many adventures. It was clear that his sole mission was going to be sleeping with her. He wasn't ugly, by any means, but not nearly as fetching as he thought he was. She bided her time and plied him for drinks and what little information she could glean, waiting for the opportunity to slip away and try somewhere else. She wondered what sort of luck poor Trypano was having.

Indeed, what the human among yasoi witnessed was... not what she had expected. Hair down in a tangled mess, clothes baggy, height far to tall for a human woman, she avoided questioning as she entered. The gruff man at the door merely held out a hand and barked an order that she pay the fee. A coin found his palm and she was inside the vast backroom of the Mermaid's Knees.

It was a drug den, and a prison. In one area were great black chests: man-sized or larger. Chained to the floor, walls, ceiling, and pillars, they rocked and reeled. Unholy noises came from inside: noises that sounded like... it was hard to say with all of the distance and other ambient noise, but it almost sounded like people were in there. As she watched with growing fascination and apprehension, one of the stiller black chests, which seemed to be home only to a gentle, persistent knocking and a muffled voice, was opened by three burly-looking guards. A scrawny man launched himself out of it, cursing and swearing in a language similar to Mycormish. "You could've let me out an hour ago!" he howled at them. "I'm fine! You can see I'm fine." Their response was partially lost amid the racket of another chest jerking violently, but Trypano could make out something about him being let out too early last time. If she understood correctly, he had bitten someone's ear off. 

She turned her attention to the other part of the vast, subdivided room. Against the walls and between the pillars were shadowed booths and individuals hunched over tables in groups. The magic that permeated the air was like nothing she had ever felt before save... it reminded her, however, slightly, of the Temporal Magic that Hugo Hunghorasz had employed, actually. There was something different about it, though: something sickeningly... sweet, for lack of a better descriptor. She was just starting to wonder - with the diligence of a scientist's mind - what it was they were doing in those booths, with what may or may not have been a form of Temporal Magic, when she saw her first aberration. The size of a bushel, it was unmistakable. The four yasoi pirates clustered around it bounced up and down in their seats excitedly, chattering amongst themselves in anticipation. Then, as one, they reached for the aberration and... the room seemed to flutter for a moment. Trypano linked. The three women and one man at the booth slumped back in their seats. Two were holding their temples, eyes bugged out, breathing laboured. The lone man's head lolled to the side, a look of contentment on his face as he stared up at the ceiling with a dopey smile and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The final member of the quartet, however, was staring straight at the human interloper and, as the Binding mage watched, the yasoi hurled herself forward, screaming something unintelligible but very, [i]very [/i]angry.[/hider]

[hider=Group Three: Penny and Wvysen] "The problem with the Nera," Nerio was saying, "is that we weren't even sure she was a real ship until we spotted her at sea a little while ago. Nobody'd ever seen her before that: great big barque, rolls like a pig on high seas." He bit into a haunch of turkey, the juices dribbling down his chin. Presently, he paused to dab at them with a kerchief: some bare pretense of his noble pedigree coming through, perhaps. "If it weren't for the very real ships goin' missin', we'd have all dismissed it as another sailor's tale." He swallowed.

Wvysen had been lucky. After Penny had run off, claiming that her presence would be more hindrance than help, she'd been left on her own. Some quick talking and mention of Ersand'Enise at the door had saved her hide. She was very much not cut out for this sort of thing. "So then where could the ship possibly hide?" She considered what she knew of trade from her parents. "And how would they fence their goods?"

The young pirate and former Academy student shook his head, pausing to throw back some more ale. He clapped his stein down on the tabletop. "Beats me." He shrugged. "But as a Revidian, I'd like to take her down. They way she's targeting our ships... it's not a coincidence, it's not opportunity either - they're too well armed." He shook his head a second time. "Some kinda vendetta."

"So then, it's the Perrench?"

"Would seem to be," her fellow youth replied. He was roguishly handsome, and swarthy in a way that denoted some form of exotic ancestry: Virangish, Malabashi, or Arrundese, perhaps. "Thing is -" He twirled his knife idly. "I know a few fellas on the Perrench side." A scowl found his face. "They claim they know as much as I do." 

There was plenty of noise in the background. It made it hard to hear Nerio as he lowered his voice. "And speaking of knowing, I saved your skin back there, Clockwork, so you owe me. Care to tell me what you and a bunch of others from the school are doing down here?" It was clear from his expression that this was not a question that Wvysen would be able to dodge.

Meanwhile, however, her erstwhile partner had indeed dodged something: her entire assignment. With no distinct plan save... try not to act too Perrench, Penny had made the executive decision not to endanger herself or Wvysen further by being a Perrench royal hobbling up to a Revidian stronghold as the two nations stood on the precipice of war. Who'd made Desmond leader anyway? And then telling her to go work at a brothel? Uncouth mercenary! She would not take on foolhardy risk for his sake. The others were not flippantly being sent into the mouth of the enemy! 

So it was that Penny had gone her own way, still feeling unnatural in... pants. It was a pretty night. The moons were in various phases. A light breeze stirred the palms, banyans, and mangroves. Birds tittered amid their branches. She wandered down past the docks and onto the beach. The waves washed in and out, tracing lines in the sand. Crabs scuttled to and fro and, in the near distance, she caught sight of a sea turtle hauling itself back toward the surf after laying its eggs. Penny laboured towards it, her crutch eager to dig itself into the sand. The beach grew thinner and imposing black cliffs loomed above. Penny was just about to turn around and head back for town when she could've sworn she heard voices. "...said she'd be here, so she'll be here," one was saying. "She's [i]never [/i]this late," a second replied. "Doesn't it bug you that none of us know who she is?" prodded a third. 

Penny realized that she was creeping forward now, on her tiptoes almost comically. "Shhh," said a voice that she believed to be the first, and the youth's blood froze in her veins for a moment. "You don't talk that was about the Volti. They hear everything." She let out a breath she hadn't meant to hold. "She's not Volti. She's just some noble girl playing pirate," sighed one of the others. "Wears a mask," opined the third. "Got a real way with the Gift..."

They were in a small cave just around a head in the coast, after the beach ended. The Perrenchwoman could see light from a fire or lanterns trickling out of it and a boat bobbed up and down at a small dock. Cautiously, trying not to pull upon the Gift to augment her less-than-perfect mobility, she found a small trail and scrabbled up the rocks. Loud. She was loud. A small cascade of pebbles trickled noisily down the side of a boulder and she froze in place for a moment. That's when she heard them: footsteps coming up behind her - fast! 

Immediately, Penny whirled and began drawing from the waves, but whatever might've happened next, she didn't have the chance to find out. There were more footsteps, everywhere. Something struck the back of her head. She felt pain, her world wavered, and then there was nothing.[/hider]

[hider=Group Four: Desmond and Benedetto]The mysterious beauty took Desmond by the hand and led him through the crowded bar area and out across La Fleur Rouge's central courtyard. The sounds of laughter and music drifted out from balconies and bedrooms surrounding it. A fountain splashed softly under the stars. It became obvious to Desmond that, despite this island's rough-and-tumble reputation, it had hints of a great ancient culture. The foundations of La Fleur were those of a vast Avincian Villa from the days of the Empire, more than a millennium ago.

She paused more than once, rapidly turning to him to speak, just to smile, or for some other excuse. He thought he could sense a tightness in her grip. In particular, he noticed that they'd taken an unusually roundabout route by the time that she whirled and smiled, leading him up a staircase to the inner balcony. "We're almost there," she assured him, voice soft and eyes inviting. There was something else there too, however: almost... a sense of urgency.

Desmond walked with the woman, and almost noticed the eyes of the woman seemed to hide something. Her grip told a frightened urgency, and she seemed to try and act and play, but her actions seemed to have the opposite meanings. Desmond never lost his composure though, acting like he was caught up in the moment with her, as when they were nearing the top of the staircase, he decided to ask her by lightly drawing himself in close to her ear and whispering with a smile, [color=gold]"Darling, if you could, I'd love to know your name"[/color].

She let out a small yelp as he drew her close, eyes darting around nervously. "If you are asking," she replied, her voice a rich Segonese roll, "I think you already know." She kept her voice low, however: so much so that he had to strain to hear her. 

Desmond gave a smile as he looked to her, playing an act as he pulled himself closer and wrapping his arm around her saying as he starts to pull them to the door as he says, [color=gold]"What a pretty name, I might get it tattooed over my heart"[/color]. As right before he pulls her in, he does a miniscule drawing from the area, knowing full well someone could be watching. His surroundings lit up with energy signatures: all sorts of people doing all sorts of things. Weak as he was in the Gift, Desmond couldn't sense particularly far or in precise detail, but no immediate threats presented themselves. The princess separated herself from him, fishing a key out from between her breasts and opening the door to her room. "After tonight, you'll want more than just that," she promised coyly. 

After some assurance was made from his immediate area, Desmond returned his gaze to the the lady in his arms and gave her a smile as he said, [color=gold]"O-ho~ color me interested"[/color], as he sauntered on in.

The moment that he stepped inside, she closed the door quickly behind him. "Thank Oraff you're here," she breathed. "Please tell me the Academy sent more people: maybe a Zeno or two?" She regarded Desmond with hopeful gratitude. 

The moment they made it in, Desmond heard the door close and let out a mental sigh, they should be fine enough as is. It seemed the princess was expecting people to arrive for her, and the Academy was on her mind. Desmond's smile never left as she spoke, it just changed from his wicked grin to that of a more calmer one, one that he normally wears. As he spoke to her he gave a reassuring head nod, [color=gold]"Yes we are here for you. They sent more of us here as well a total of 8 people picked by the Arch Zeno Himself. The others are scouting the area for the pirate crew of the ship that took you as we speak"[/color].

The princess' face grew evaluative for a moment. She seemed to read between the lines. "No Zenos, though," she replied, seeming sure of it. "Truly, I am worth that little to them." She nodded, businesslike, and made her way to a drawer. Sliding it all of the way out, she cracked it over her knee and a false bottom split open, revealing a small pistol and a pouch of coins. She turned back to face Desmond. "Thank you beyond words for coming. Now, as for that crew, they are a menace. We should gather our people. I have friends here too. I can take you to them." She looked beseeching and determined at once. "We can fight, or," she relented, "at least alert those who will, but we must slip out now. Can I ask you for one more thing: come with me?" 

Desmond noticed her eyes, they seemed to evaluate everything he said, reading between the lines, seeing what was said. He chuckled to himself as she went and kneed the drawer, she seemed to have gained something from this time, and lost others. She did seem to keep her refined tounge, which was something Desmond was picking out, incase this was a trap of some form. Once she seemed armed, she turned to Desmond once more and spoke to him and then asked him the most important thing, fight or inspire a fight. Desmond was not 100% sure, because those there with him might not be the fighting type, but they had a job to do. Kill the Captain, save the Princess, and retrieve the Artifact. 1 of 3 would be done for sure, 2 of 3 might occur if the pirates in fight, but the artifact would still not be retrieved. 

Desmond decided, [color=gold]"We should gather who we can and then fight. We have a few more things here. The Artifact can not be left here, and the Captain's head needs to roll. So-"[/color], as Desmond stood up and adjusted himself as he neared her and extended his hand to her, [color=gold]"-I'll go with you, can't leave you to do my job"[/color]. Desmond said with a wink and a smile.

"Thank you," said the princess. "On the honour of Amelea of Segona, I promise that I will help you right the wrongs of this place and find your artifact." She hitched up her skirts, tucked the pistol and money into her garter, and opened the window, casting about both ways. She clambered out onto a narrow ledge and grabbed hold of the rain flue. "Now, we should go." She slid down towards the street, landing in a slightly clumsy crouch. Bright blue eyes and a mischievous white grin turned up to face him and Desmond was not long in following. Next was to find the others.

Benedetto, however, had no desire to be found. He closed the door to an upper-floor apartment. His voice became soft. "Mother," he said, stepping forward. [/hider]