[IC] A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

[Nomi Yanimura]

The tavern had grown far too loud in such a short amount of time. It was frustrating, as the one peaceful and relaxed atmosphere had now been shattered since everyone was feeling on edge ever since the cloaked woman and the flamboyant 'pirate' had arrived at this place. Even the birds chirping in the nearby trees had silenced themselves and retreated deeper into the forest since the three gunshots had been fired. The blind man just shook his head from side to side a few times and took hold of his small cup of sake, drinking the liquor down before he immediately filled it back up. His second bottle of sake was running low now, which was as good an indicator as any that he had spent enough time at this place. He met the former 'Jin Long', confirmed the location of Ornestoro and revealed the scroll fragment that held the dark and ancient power. That should be enough for the time being. Nomi knew that as hard as Jintaru was playing, he'd not be able to rest easy from here on out knowing that the silver-haired man was out seeking something of great power.

”It must be a simple life, being a nobody, knowing nothing and being as blind as I am to the world around you. How boring.”
Listening to the commotion going on within the tavern, the blind man sighed loudly as he picked up his cup of sake and made it vanish down his throat like the others before. He returned the cup to the table, somewhat violently as the wooden surfaced creaked and rocked from the strain of having pressure put upon it. The next set of words that left the 'monk's lips had frustrated the blind man further and as he left the table and walked away, the silver-haired man rose his head and glanced towards the tavern.
”Waitress!”
He shouted over the noise coming from within. A few seconds passed but the young jasmine-scented girl scurried out of the tavern and rushed to the blind man's table, a worried look spread across her voice which carried into her voice.
”Y-yes sir? How m-may I help?”
After fetching his coin purse from his belt, Nomi handed her enough gold for more sake, asking for two bottles, unopened. Upon taking the gold and nodding her head, the young woman vanished back into the tavern, hugging the walls and taking a longer route to into the back of the tavern as to avoid the noisy people in the middle.

By time she had reappeared, the blind man was standing up. His satchel was slung over his right shoulder with the bag itself resting on his left waist. With a smile, he nodded his head and took his drinks off the waitress.
”Thank you.”
Gently placing his order into his satchel, the silver-haired man turned and took his leave, walking to the dirt road and heading directly across it to the adjoined farmland. As dusty footsteps turned to the soft crunch of fresh grass, a farmer, about mid forties, flinched and ducked behind his small wooden plough as he noticed the blind man approaching. Seemed he had heard the gunshots from earlier and was taking cover to protect himself. Smart man. Nomi however, paid him no mind at all. He instead walked onto the farmland where a small grassy mound rest. Using his boot to kick the grass away, a katana was revealed to be laying peacefully on the ground. Rolling the sheath onto the top of his right boot, the blind man flicked the weapon up into the air, which he caught with a snap of his right hand, snatching the weapon from the air.

Slinging the blade over his shoulder and fastening it to his back, the blind man returned to the dirt road and turned after Jintaru, following him. He clearly wasn't happy, as evident by the sound of his blade being pulled from it's sheath. The mirror-sheen of the blade flicked beautifully in the sunlight and the blade itself sung with the subtlest movement. After having waited enough he was far enough away from the tavern to be a distraction, the silver-haired man flexed his knees and suddenly launched himself towards the 'monk', almost vanishing entirely from view as his tapped into his colossal speed, leaving naught but a small cloud of dirt where he once stood. Catching up to the 'monk' in mere seconds. He 'appeared' a few feet behind the 'monk', but did not act further. He didn't need to. He just continued to follow the man in silence, blade drawn and waited.

[Feisty-Pants]

Annaveya Kushrina - Pirate's Company

Smoothly, the events transpired initially how she preferred them to. Parading the Pirate outside and into the open field, her fingertip tensed momentarily upon the trigger. She smirked lightly, there was nothing quite ending the already shortened lifespan of a privateer akin to Edoric. Much to her liking no less, it were much like how one felt crushing a bug beneath their heel.

To her however, he was even less than that. Violent bastards like him were the reason why that her family had been forced to fight back. Then again, foolish little gnats like him were also the reason her family had become so inventive and successful alike. After all, there is nothing that forces invention quite so well akin to desperation.

Desperation and cunning, both of which helped her family escalate to incredible lengths of naval strength, mercantilism, and outright power. In the end, it is only the Crown that overshadowed the Kushrina's presence in the skies. Thankfully both sides were on more than amiable terms, especially when the Kushrina fleet continued to be one of the main suppliers, and even reinforcements to the Royal Fleet in times of need. Though such need was only rare, it often came to a great profit for her family.

That didn't matter now, what did matter was that the moment she was about to pull the trigger, Annaveya suddenly found herself under assault from a...banana? It struck her in the side of the neck and she stumbled, causing her to reel back about furiously just in time to see one of her company strike the fool in the back of the neck with a crossbow.

Much like the useless sack of potatoes he was, the Pirate collapsed in an unconscious heap. Furious as she was, she had to give him credit. It took either a desperate, foolish, or brave man to try and flee from the numbers that surrounded him. That aside, it didn't matter. Unconscious or no, his life was forfeit unto her. Striding angrily forward, she bent forward to press the cold barrel of the pistol against his forehead. Thinking of how his funeral would be a closed casket ordeal in flight over the sea amused her, until a thought occurred in her mind.

The entirety of her intelligence assets concerning the Tavern had been completely incorrect. Subtly, the hammer drew back upon the pistol again as she contemplated this. Slowly, a scowl grew across her lips as a man's life lay in the balance.

Maybe he could be of additional use before she murdered him. He was a Pirate, he was due to know more of them; and there was no honor amongst petty thieves when their well-being was in balance. She had experienced such time and time again, after all.

"Pick him up." Came a softened command from the Captain, glancing to the surrounding fourteen. "Strip him of his weapons and dignity alike, even down to the smallest fabric. Bag his head and tag him. He's coming with us." Awkward silence followed her at first, some of them looking at her in surprised disbelief; after all, it had been the first time the famous Kushrina had shown any quarter to a Pirate. Even upon surrendering, most had been executed on the spot with absolutely no mercy.

Even still, the soldiers loyally followed her order. Stripping him down to his basic garments and taking his weapons from him. Restraining him to a litter via a series of ropes, the marched with the unconscious Pirate in tow back towards the main city.

Two hours passed, and the massive dock complex that the Kushrina Family controlled could be seen in the distance. With the long, spear-like noses of the Viltgance Airships and the absolutely massive nose of The Dauntless Wind poking out from their maintenance docks. Far beneath them, the thousands of Kushrina Mercantile maintenance employees went about their work devotedly, for the pay they were furnished was quite commendable to say the least.

Up the walkways the group draped in black climbed, and not longer, Edoric would find himself in just a pair of underwear, no clothes at all, inside of a steel cell barred by a thick steel door. He was in holding, a prisoner of the Kushrina Mercantile Navy.

Inside with him sat an unarmed Annaveya, with one leg folded over and her elbow resting on her chin, amused as she watched the Pirate stir and begin to wake. She was an odd ethnicity to behold, as it were one so closely aligned with her family line. Deeply tanned skin, crimson eyes and platinum hair beset upon a fair figure and even fairer face. Her beautiful voice curled forward in her family's middle eastern accent as she addressed him curtly.

"Welcome aboard The Dauntless Wind, Edoric Thatch. I trust you find our hospitality to be quite satisfactory?" It was a mocking, teasing question, to which Annaveya still held her light smirk. He had no mattress, no pillow, only a chilling metal board welded to the wall for his bare back to lay upon. "I come to you with a, well, unique opportunity for people like you. Would you care to hear it?"

"Ah yes, I've been rude. I never introduced myself properly at the Tavern. I am Annaveya Maria Kushrina, Captain of The Dauntless Wind, and Northern Cross of the 2nd Kushrina Mercantile Navy Battlegroup."

[Jintaru]

As he left Nomi sitting at the table, he knew he should feel more smug, he hadn’t let the silver-haired man goad into conflict, but he didn’t. The whole scenario felt incomplete, like it wasn’t over. Where Nomi was concerned, that usually meant it wasn’t. He had left the noise of the tavern behind, for some reason, knowing that it would be the last time he would sit outside it. This kind of foresight, although not unusual for Jinratu, was not something he on which he liked to dwell or in which he put too much trust. More immediately, he knew he wouldn’t have much further to go before he found whoever it was that had sent his money back to him. The same people who had the boy. He needed to ensure the message had made its way to Ornestoro and that his D’ol Dathri informant would have good news for him in return.

He tilted his head towards the sun and allowed his eyes to close and a genuine smile cross his lip. Nomi was a silent as the best of them if he chose to be, he could hide his steps from the most discerning of ears, but what he couldn’t hide was that song. It was so subtle, almost as though the blade sighed in pleasure as the air slid past it, a coy chorus of steel in the wind. Jintaru knew it all too well. He had heard it often enough.

“You know it’s bad luck to draw your sword and not have it taste blood, Yanimura?” Jintaru smiled, not turning around and not slowing his pace. He spied a clearing in the treeline off to his left, over a small hill. That’s where they would be. “And if it’s my blood with which you want to stain your blade, it’ll have to wait…” He left the path and approached the hill. “I have some other business to take care of first.”

Once he had reached around one hundred yards from the hill, he stopped.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me!” He called.

On cue, a group of eight men emerged over the top of the hill and made their way down the other side. One of them had the boy in his clutches. They were all armed, melee mostly, barring one with a crossbow. They didn’t move in step or formation so they weren’t trained, certainly not military.

Bandits? Perhaps a gang from within the city? Maybe they saw the boy wandering through the streets and snatched him there. Doesn’t matter, this was only going to go one way.

“This boy here says you had more money for him. Way we figure it, you’ll probably pay us to make sure nothing nasty happens to him.” The man who spoke wasn’t holding the boy but he was clearly in charge, a big man, broad shouldered and tall. Tattoos traces jagged patterns across his arms and the part of his upper chest visible through the v-neck tunic he wore.

Jintaru looked at the boy in the talons of an emaciated, jittery looking member of the group. The lad looked frightened. He’d certainly have earned his wages today. Slowly, Jintaru reached into the fold of his tunic and withdrew his coin purse again. He held it up for the group to see before turning around. For the first time since leaving the tavern, he looked straight into the blind man’s face. Crouching down, he placed the purse behind him and turned back to the group.

“In that purse is all the money I have. All you need to do is come and get it.” He lowered his head, eyes scanning the group for movement. Instead of speeding up, his heart rate slowed and a calm fell over him. It was in this moment that he was complete, the moment before combat. In these times he shook off all he was, all he had been and rid himself of anything he may become. His ego was washed away, his name with it, and he became a being of pure tension, longing for bloodshed. He kept enough back in order to speak to Nomi once more. “You asked me if I’d kept up with my training, Yanimura. You’re about to find out first hand. Feel free to jump in if you get bored.”

With that the group, with the exception of the one holding the boy, charged forward.

It was not until the first man was practically upon him that Jintaru acted. The fool had come at him, an axe raised high in both hands. They weren’t trained at all. Catching him on his off step, Jintaru stepped underneath the man’s arms and, in one motion, drew his blade and arced it upwards, severing the man’s hands at the wrists. Scarlet sprayed from the wounds and a scream leaped from his lips as the man’s momentum carried him forwards, realising far too late the error he had made.

The second two arrived at the same time, and attack from the man to his left, deftly parried, he ducked under a horizontal strike from the one on his right. This time, as he rose from his crouch, he dragged the edge of his katana across the right man’s side before spinning and slashing downwards almost severing the his arm at the shoulder. Blood soaked the man’s clothes and began to seep into the dirt, taking his life with it. The sword fell from his hand and he fell to his knees. Another swift strike decapitated him.

Jintaru barely blinked, the process of losing himself that had begun before the fight was now complete. His heartbeat was steady and rhythmic as the second of the two attackers rounded on him and charged, vaulting over the corpse of his companion. The attack came from Jinratu’s right, the man favoured his left hand. He blocked it, allowed the man to swing again. This time, angling his blade away, Jintaru upset the man’s balance causing him to stumble sideways under his own momentum. Lunging forward, Jintaru thrust his blade into the man’s gut, just above and to the right of his pelvis. He felt the brief resistance of his leather tabard, then the easy glide as fat, muscles and soft tissue yielded to the keen blade. Quickly, he pressed his weight down through his shoulders, forcing the sword down, smashing through th man’s pelvic bone and exiting at the left of his groin. The femoral artery vented crimson and viscera sough egress through the gaping would as he fell.

His gaze fell to the rest of the group. All of whom had decided to approach the shaven headed swordsman a little more carefully.

[ClocktowerEchos]

Edoric's soul must have gotten lost on its way to heaven, since when he woke up, he was still groggy as all hell. He recounted his steps. He followed rule number 106 of being a gentleman pirate, making one hell of an entrance. Then some iron dove came by and marched him out like some convict, in which case he resorted to rule number 72 and escaped... Ahh, it made sense now.

He remember his face being introduced to something, presumably a fist and his last thoughts involving women and cheap citric fruits. Judging by the smell, he was on the prison cell of a merchant ship. He could smell the ship's previous cargo mixed with the scent of doom and gloom of his prison cell. Although, a more mysterious smell was also close by, it was... exotic to say the least. It smelled of natural sun and warmth that had been swirled around a delicate perfume of wild flowers. It was like someone had created a flower garden in the desert.

As his eyesight returned to him, his Black Cat's Eye wasted no time in adjusting the darkened conditions. Feeling the chill from his lack of clothes, the musky cell he was in not much too different from a high-security prison he had been in. Escaping that place was easy, rile people up enough and they'll break down a wall or two. He had a feeling that doing that wasn't a viable option here. The room was small and dark, like someone made a closet out of metal and added a slab of pig iron to the wall and added the clunkiest door they could find to bolt on the entrance. Being perfectly honest, it was better then what Edoric had been sleeping on before; old, rotting wood exposed to the elements.

As his normal eye regain full vision, the room became more clear and he could now see what was the root of that warm, flowery smell. From his corner, he saw a beautifully tanned lass with fiery crimson eyes smiling at his current situation.

"Welcome aboard The Dauntless Wind, Edoric Thatch. I trust you find our hospitality to be quite satisfactory?", She laughed has Edoric had regained the sense of feel in his legs, "I come to you with a, well, unique opportunity for people like you. Would you care to hear it?"

He tried to get up, but realized noto only was his wrists bound, he ankles were to. After trying many awkward posistion to hopefully allow him more movement, he flopped down in defeat before returning to a sitting position.

"Ah yes, I've been rude. I never introduced myself properly at the Tavern. I am Annaveya Maria Kushrina, Captain of The Dauntless Wind, and Northern Cross of the 2nd Kushrina Mercantile Navy Battlegroup."

"That's lovely Anmarina." Edoric combined the entirety of Anna's name into one word, "I'm Captain Edoric Thatch. Previous captain of the Red Seal Dragon which as since be lost in the Fog looking for something. I'd like to request you release me so I may continue looking for said object as its mighty difficult running a ship half naked from a prison cell. Although, it is more comfortable then what I''ve been sleeping on for the last week, so I'd rate your hospitality a soild 7 out of 10."

Edoric looked down at his unclothed body, "Also, if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked love. Or are you trying to explore a new fetish of tying men up?"

[Nomi Yanimura]

The sun shone down upon the blind man's head, warming his grey hair and the scalp underneath. With each step further away from the tavern he took, the louder the songbirds started to sing once more. The noise in the tavern grew distant and only the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves and grass on opposite sides of the dirt road was what accompanied the two walking men. Every now and then, the 'thunk' of a farmer's hoe would mix into the bird songs and the warm breeze as the farm tool was swung down into the dry dirt to help break it up, making the sewing of seeds easier. The song that Nomi's blade sung continued, as subtle as it was. Even though the weapon was being held as still as a spring water lake, the edge of the blade sliced the air in two with no effort. His footsteps however, were giving away his position as the crunch of dirt sounded from each and every one of his steps. There was no need to hide himself from the 'monk'. It would be impossible to ambush this man and have him be completely unaware. 'Jin Long' was still in there. Those warrior instincts belonged to the man whom Nomi travelled with all that time ago. Those kinds of instincts, those reactions, they were taught. The 'monk' may have changed his name, changed his image, but the old man, the real 'Jin Long' was underneath the charade.

”Those words are what the old you would speak, not this fake clown whom walks before me.”
The blind man continued to walk forwards as he heard the shaven-headed man venture off the dirt road and head through the grass. Nomi came to a halt at the spot where the 'monk' left the road and turned his head to 'glance' in the direction the man he was following had headed. A frown was spread across the silver-haired man's face, visible even through his blindfold. Lifting his head up a fraction, it seemed that the pair were not alone, for a group of man were hiding behind a hill several feet away. The closer the 'monk' got, the noisier these hiding people became, until they finally emerged from over the top of the hill. Nomi turned to face the group and took a step forth as he felt the presence of the kitchen hand being restrained within them.
”You'll be dead before you could even think about hurting that boy!”
Nomi taunted from he road and allowed his frown to turn into a smirk, poking a finger in Jintaru's direction several times, as if trying to alert them of the impending danger.. Perhaps using his blade on this 'monk' could wait.

Watching with interest, the 'monk' had placed his purse down behind him and took a page out of the blind man's book. He taunted the group, challenging them to try and take his coin off him. The 'sight' caused the blind man to let out a short, loud and entertained 'Heh!', as he swung his blade up over his head and slot the steel weapon back into it's scabbard, the handguard 'clicking' lightly as the blade locked into place. This was followed up by the blind man folding his arms across his chest and taking several more steps forwards, coming to a stop when he was roughly six feet away from the 'monk'.
”Oh my, you're starting to sound more and more like me. Perhaps there might be something worth while to you after all.”
As the group of bandits started to approach, their footsteps heavy and clumsy, the blind man started to count in his head.
One...
They drew closer, completely unaware of what they were even doing. They had no idea of the man they thought they could defeat with sheer numbers. Perhaps if there was a hundred of them, then maybe one of them might get a lucky enough strike in to do some damage.

Two...
A large brute of a man with an axe as big as he was took a wide, uncontrolled swing at the 'monk', but his fate had already been sealed. To the bandits, it would have looked like the 'monk' didn't move, almost as if he were standing in one place and then standing in another a blink of an eye later. To normal man, this speed was only heard of in the greatest of swordsmen, but to the blind man, he actually allowed a small 'tut' to escape his lips.
Three!
Nomi stepped forwards and using the toes of his right foot, he curled the coin purse onto the top of hi boot, which he flicked up, tossing the purse into the air much like he had done his sword from earlier. Like a snake springing forwards to snap it's jaw at a prey, did Nomi's hand strike out, snatching the purse from the air only seconds before the crimson spewing from the large axe-wielding man, covered the ground red where the coin purse originally sat. The blind man flourished away from the life blood that streamed from the man's severed wrists before any of the droplets touched him, retreating a safe enough distance away to watch the rest of the scene before him without being disturbed.

As the next two brave men approached and swiftly made their demise, executed most professionally by the shaven-headed swordsman, Nomi just chuckled to himself darkly as he started to stride forwards, pausing to glance down at the head of the poor headless bandit. He grinned and turned, bending down with his hands on his hips to get a better 'look' at the lifeless head.
”What a waste.”
Dishonourably, the blind man turned and kicked the head over towards the remaining group, causing the lot of them to flinch and back up a few paces as the decapitated body part rolled to a halt a few feet before them. The silver-haired man approached the 'monk' and slapped a hand on his left shoulder, smirking in his face as he passed in front of him.
”You've slowed down. Still got the power though.”
He chuckled coldly, almost sarcastically and he tossed the coin purse towards Jintaru's face. Turning his back on the shaven-headed swordsman, Nomi started to take several steps towards the remaining group, lifting his right hand up and slowly counting each of the four men individually with a point of his finger.
”But scum like this don't deserve to be victim of such professional swordsmanship. Just bashing their heads open with a rock is all they should receive.”

Another dark cackle sounded from Nomi's throat as he felt the remaining group take a couple of steps backwards, one of them was trembling so badly that his tremors could be felt from even where the blind man was standing. Lifting up both his hands and punching his right fist into his left hand, Nomi cracked a smirk and tilted his head right and left, cracking his neck as he did so to loosen himself up.
”I'm not going to be as 'gentle' as the clown behind me. I'm going to make each and every one of you suffer. But, if you give me that boy, you can all walk away with your lives and limbs intact.”
It was a reasonable offer, he thought.
”Piss off blind man! What can you d-”
The sound of knuckles crushing a man's nose echoed throughout the clearing, cutting the bandit's sentence short, as the blind man darted forwards and planted a firm straight punch of his left hand square into the bandit's face. Much the same as back on the dirt road, to those untrained, it would have appeared that Nomi had vanished and reappeared in front of the bandit almost instantly. As a howl gurgled from the throat of the bandit as he reeled backwards, the blind man glanced to his right and smirked at a second man who gripped both his hands about the handle of his club so tight, that he was making his knuckles turn white.
”Can I hurt you too, or will you run away now?”

[Jintaru]

So entranced was he, that Jintaru didn’t hear Nomi’s taunting of the bandits or his musing on the similarities between the two of them. He did feel the hackles on the back of his neck stand up, however. He shrugged the feeling away before engaging the men. The bloodlust had descended and was unprepared for Nomi’s hand on his shoulder and nearly whirled round and split the blind man open from throat to pelvis, but he held back, snapping his hand up to catch the coin purse that Nomi had thrown at him.

“Have I?” He sneered. “I’m just warming up, Yanimura.”

He watched the silver haired swordsman approach the remaining bandits, the looks on their faces were a myriad different expression, some fear, some anger, some a mixture of the two as they regarded the broken bodies of their fallen comrades. Gentle? Perhaps Nomi’s ‘eyesight’ was not as good as he claimed, the broken, mutilated corpses behind him, were not a testament to gentleness or mercy.

He watched Nomi’s power as he smashed his fist into the face of an advancing bandit and smirked. The man was still formidable…he liked that. He would hate to think that the keen edge that was Nomi Yanimura had grown dull.

“Besides…” He began as he spied one of the last bandits who seemed willing to fight, appear behind Nomi. In one fluid motion of his arms, almost as though he was dancing, he sheathed his sword and unslung the bow from his back, nocking an arrow. He loosed the arrow in Nomi’s direction. It too sang through the air before planting itself into the eye socket of the advancing bandit. He stopped dead in his tracks, stumbled and fell twitching to the ground as though his strings had been cut. “…you’ve gotten sloppy.”

He turned to see the man wielding the club and wondered how badly he wanted to live. If he valued his life, he’d drop the weapon and run.

It would be a shame if you ran, I want to see the bastard in action again.

[Nomi Yanimura]

The left hand of the silver-haired man flexed to and from a fist a few times, the armoured gauntlet that protected the blind man's forearm rattled against itself as he did so. He frowned and appeared to 'look' at his hand as he continued to flex it open and closed repeatedly. He had lost complete interest in the bandit who brandished his club much the same way as a young boy would play solider. He had no talent, no skill, no experience. If he had though, it had all been washed away from the display that the shaven-headed 'monk' put on only a couple minutes ago. A gurgle came from the bandit with the broken nose as he came to and rolled over onto his side, both his hands covering his nose and mouth as he groaned in pain.
”Hm, he had a harder head then I thought.”
The blind man quipped as his frown faded and a smirk reappeared across his lips. As he looked back up though, one of the other three men of the second group had taken advantage of the blind man peering at his hand, but the singing of an arrow and the piercing of flesh quickly halted his approach.

Before the bandit fell to the floor, Nomi reached up and took hold of the arrow, allowing the bandit's own body weight to free himself off the piece of ammunition. Bringing the arrow to his face, the silver-haired man sniffed the arrow head a couple of times and then shook the thin wooden object beside his ear. This was expertly made, but made from materials a normal fletcher wouldn't usually use. The only answer to this was that the 'monk' crafted these himself. Come to think about it, the 'older version' of the shaven-headed man used a sword and a sword alone. Did this 'change' regarding Ornestoro aid him in picking up a new weapon, or had he always been a capable archer? Nomi glanced over his shoulder and stared towards the man calling himself 'Jintaru', standing as still and as solid as the hill that the bandits had walked over. He smirked as he heard the jibe come from the 'monk' and Nomi stood upright, turning his attention back onto the club-wielding bandit and the seventh member standing beside him. The eighth who clung to the kitchen hand was still standing alone atop the hill.
”Have you forgotten, old friend? I told you back at the tavern that I've not fought since the last war. As capable a fighter you may think I am, I'd rather not kill a Gurtha Orc and have the rest of his clan hunt me across Mor Sgiathatch. Only a fool would pick a fight with an entire orc clan, especially those who live on the Black Mountain.”

The two bandits that stood a short distance from the blind man shuffled towards each other and started to whisper together. It was unclear what exactly they were saying to one another, but the looks on their faces spoke of worry and fear. Four of their fellow bandits lay dead, a fifth had a bloodied face but was still breathing. Two of the remaining three had weapons, the man with a club, about forty years old and a taller, larger man who had a two-handed great sword in his grip, the blade blunt and dirty. As they continued to whisper, Nomi grinned and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for them to finish. The pair of bandits shuffled over towards their bleeding comrade and knelt down to whisper with him too. Only various words could be heard, including; 'retreat', 'surrender', 'kitchen boy', 'Mor Sgaithatch' and 'treasure'. The silver-haired man tilted his head and he chuckled, looking back over his shoulder to the 'monk', where he shrugged his shoulders at him before looking back towards the bandits. The bloodied nose one had gotten back up to his feet and seemed to have stopped his eyes from watering enough to be able to pick up his own weapon again, an ordinary looking soldier's longsword.

The group seemed to have finished their little chat of tactics and strategy and started to spread out around the blind man. The club-wielding bandit stood at the front with the bloodied nose taking Nomi's left and great sword went right.
”You should have ran away...”
Nomi muttered as the bandits all rushed in at the same time to attack.

Due to their choice of weapons, even though they all attacked at the same time, their swing speeds differed. Bloodied nose went high, aiming his longsword for the blind man's neck. Great sword went low, trying to slice Nomi's legs off at the knees. Club bandit when for a good old fashioned overhead smash. Their plan was sound, but the man in the middle of this little situation was the unpredictable one. Suddenly he turned to his left, raising his left arm and using his armoured gauntlet to block the longsword. At the same time he twisted his hips and brought up his right knee, swinging his armoured boot around in a fast arc, smashing the top of his foot into bloodied noses nose once more, causing him to shriek and tumble to the ground, grasping his face. Flexing his left knee, Nomi hopped up into the air and stamped down on the flat edge of the great sword, ripping the weapon from the bandit's grip and causing him to stumble forwards. Lifting himself up onto his toes, the blind man twisted around as gracefully as a dancer, back the in the direction of the club-wielding bandit and with his right knee tucked into his side, Nomi threw out a hard front kick, sending the heel of his right boot into the nose of great sword, causing him to scream out and fall backwards onto his butt, before he collapsed onto his side and grabbed at his now flattened face.

With the club still in descent, Nomi switched legs, putting his weight onto his right and bringing his left leg up, knee tucked into his chest, cocked like the hammer of a flintlock rifle. With a smirk still spread from ear to ear across Nomi's face, he looked like he was having fun.
”TAH!!”
He suddenly yelled as he let his left kick fly, sending a side kick into the middle of the club, shattering it into splinters and causing the last bandit to stumble back in surprise. Nomi pounced and smashed both his open palms into the temples and ears of the poor bandit, causing him to screech and grasp at his ears to try and make the high-pitched ringing go away. A firm right punch sunk deep into the bandit's stomach followed by a hard left knee to the chin as he lurched forwards. The blow had enough power to lift the bandit off his feet, causing Nomi to snicker as he watched the now unconscious fool collapse in a heap in the grass before him. From the 'monk's perspective though, the whole scene would have been over in seconds. Dusting off his hands, Nomi glanced over his shoulder and gave the 'monk' a thumbs up, before a petrified wail was heard quickly disappearing down the back of the hill, the kitchen hand picking himself up off the floor from where the final bandit had thrown him.

[Jintaru]

As he watched Nomi danced between his attackers, he found his feelings conflicted. On one hand, one had to admire the man’s ability, Nomi’s skills in combat often bordered on the artistic, yet Jintaru abhorred showmanship and flamboyance. In his eyes, excessive flair made a mockery of battle and those who lose their lives to it.

Jintaru glanced over to where the kitchen hand was straightening and dusting himself off. The boy appeared unhurt but the swordsman knew that this ordeal would not be on forgotten in a hurry. The lad had a choice. Either he could use this experience as fuel for his inner fire and pick up a sword with a vow to defend himself and those he loves through violence, or he could realise what happens to violent men and make the opposite vow. Jintaru knew which one he wished the boy to take.

Through the post battle pall, an unexpected sound rang out from behind the hill from over which the bandits had arrived. The sound of slow, rhythmic applause. As Jintaru slung his bow over his back again, the noise grew louder until a familiar shape appeared atop the hill and made its way towards the gory scene. When he allowed the battle-fire to die down within him, Jintaru realised what it was. Ornestoro, The D’ol Dathri man was smiling from ear to ear, clapping his hands.

“Mecsil hadadtri, fadzir!” He said as he approached Jintaru.

Straightening up, Jintaru turned to face the advancing Ornestoro. “Meczil hadadtri.” He responded. His time fighting the war in D’ol Dath had made him proficient in D’ol Dath Tar. “You sent these men, Ornestoro?”

“But of course…” The tall, dark skinned man smiled. “A ploughshare tells me it wishes to, once again, become a sword, I must ensure its edge is still sharp.” The men ended up face to face as Jintaru met his colleague at the foot of the hillock. Ornestoro was dressed in a long blue velvet tunic with gilded hems and inlaid with silver spirals. Doubtless expensive, but it was not as though the man was short of coin. Atop his bald head, he wore a gold mesh cap with a silver crescent moon hanging from one corner, falling to sit neatly in the centre of his forehead. This was traditional D’ol Dathri noble dress. Despite being far from home, Ornestoro wanted to make no secret of his affiliation with the Czentulu.

“Where did you find these men?” Jintaru asked, gesturing to the scattered bodies behind him.

“Just because you are the best sell-sword on my books, does not mean you are the only one, fadzir.” Ornestoro smiled revealing a perfect set of white teeth, with the exception of one incisor that was made of solid silver. Letting his hands fall to his waist, he turned his thumbs up and pressed the tips of his fingers together, letting them sit at belt level.

“Well, it seems you’ll need some new clientele.”

“Men like these are ten a penny in the city. I can have them replaced by nightfall.” He replied.

The old Jin Long would have found the D’ol Dathri’s disregard for the lives he had wasted by sending ill-trained men to die at the hands of himself and Nomi. But Jinratu didn’t care. A slain man is a slain man, whatever the reason. As far as he was concerned, they drew first and must accept the consequences of their actions. The cackling of carrion birds started up in the trees and one brave individual even came into land in the centre of the ring of scattered bodies. The large black bird twitched its head from side to side, clearing sizing up the men still standing, hopping nervously in a small circle. With a flutter of wings, it came to rest on the open neck of the decapitated man and began to peck at the still warm flesh around the wound.

“You got my message, then?” Jintaru asked.

“Yes, your boy did well. I expect he did exactly what you asked of him.”

Jintaru remembered the boy and turned to where he had been standing since the bandit holding him had fled. He was still there, the colour had drained from his face and he seemed unsure as to what he should do. Once more retrieving his coin purse from the fold in his tunic, Jintaru threw it to the lad. The boy came around long enough to catch it in both hands. It was likely more money than he had ever seen in one place, let alone held in his hands. He nooded his appreciation to Jintaru and turned to leave.

“Boy!” Jintaru called. The lad turned around, still unable to speak and clearly wishing to leave that place as quickly as possible.

“Y-yes Sir?” He called back nervously.

“Never pick up a sword as long as you live. There are other ways to protect the ones you love. I suggest you use that money and find them. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded. Nodding back, Jintaru gave the lad his leave and, as fast as he had taken off from the tavern earlier that day, perhaps faster, he made his way back to it. He turned back to Ornestoro.

“So what have you got for me?”

[Nomi Yanimura]

Silence had returned to the open clearing as the fleeing eighth bandit's voice had vanished completely from the distance he had put between himself and the miniature battleground. Guess he cared little for his 'friends' then, unless the group didn't know everyone involved. They certainly didn't know the men that they would be put up against. Nomi just sighed and turned to look down upon bloodied nose, who was still writhing about on the floor. Crouching down, the blind man started to pat over his pockets, swatting away the bandit's hands whenever he tried to retaliate. He stopping struggling after a couple of attempts and bloodied nose just lay there and allowed himself to be looted. Seemed he had a brain in that rattled head of his after all. There was no point in getting yourself killed over pocket change after all. But when the blind man found some cash, he ignored it and continued his scavenge for items. A minute passed and nothing of use seemed to be on him and after getting back up to his feet, Nomi used his right boot to push and roll bloodied nose over.
”Get lost.”
Bloodied nose took the advice and painfully scrambled to his feet before scrambling away himself.

The sound of clapping reached the blind man's ears and he turned himself about to 'look' in the direction it was coming from. Footsteps treading through dry grass were descending the hill and it sounded like the 'monk' was approaching that who had arrived late to the party. The two men shared words in a foreign tongue, D’ol Dath Tar, recognizable from the tongue heavy syllables and difficult for most of the common folk to speak accurately. It was no surprise that the 'monk' was able to speak it's language. After all, he had told the kitchen hand that Ornestoro was a D’ol Dathri, so it made sense that Jintaru could speak the native language. Nomi just scoffed and took a single step towards the richly dressed stranger.
”You did a poor job of 'testing' your little puppet, D'ol Dathri. Perhaps you ought send someone who KNOWS how to swing a sword next time?”
The blind man took a few paces away and swung his foot at the crow that had landed near the decapitated corpse in hopes of a meal, scaring the large black bird away. He crouched down besides the lifeless body and started to pat over the pockets of this one.

”'Best' sell-sword? Pfff! Saying that about six years ago would have me agreeing with you. The man who stands before you should have taken all eight of those men out before any of them had reached for their blades.”
Nomi didn't bother looking over his shoulder as he spoke up when hearing Ornestoro's comment. His hands continued to rummage though the headless bandit's pockets until he stumbled across a piece of folded parchment, stained with blood. Standing up and unfolding the parchment, the silver-haired man turned around to face the pair of men that stood in the body filled clearing. Nomi cleared his lips as he held the parchment up and read aloud like a town crier would.
”I, Ornestoro, hereby demand the head of a lone wanderer called 'Jintaru'. He is considered to be armed and extremely dangerous, last seen outside 'The Last Rest' tavern on the outskirts of 'Krasora'. A purse of one thousand gold shall be waiting for you and your men upon return of 'Jintaru's' head. Signed, Ornestoro.”
Nomi turned the parchment about to reveal the words he had just spoke and gave the D'ol Dathri a dark smirk, waggling the parchment so it rustled softly while dangling from his hand.
”One thousand gold? I hope you only wrote this one letter. We'd not want it's copies falling into the wrong hands now, would we?”

The blind man took several steps closer towards the two other men and came to a stop when he was a few feet away from then. So this was Ornestoro in the flesh huh? He was pretty much what you'd expect to see a wealthy man from the city to look like, but it was strange that he appeared to be here alone, with no guards or armed men to protect him. This wasn't a known bandit location though, so perhaps escorts and protection wasn't necessary, unless he was a capable warrior himself?
”For a man who 'won't speak', you certainly are talking a lot.”
The blind man said as he folded the bloody parchment up nearly and placed it within his satchel. His scroll fragment remained within his satchel for the time being, for there was no point in pulling it out to show the D'ol Dathri if he was here only to speak with the 'monk'. The ploughshare wished to become a sword once more, so perhaps the neatly dressed man was here to offer a job to the shaven-headed man and would then be off on his way. The silver-haired man just stood still and remained silent from here on out, 'watching' and waiting to see what would happen between the two other men.

[Jintaru]

Ornestoro’s only response to Nomi’s chattering was to glance at the blind man from underneath lowered brows. As with everywhere he goes and everyone he meets, Ornestoro was sizing him up. Whilst Jintaru and Nomi were good at what they did, so was Ornestoro. He knew people and he knew combat and he knew information. The three put together made for a powerful base of knowledge.

“Only one-thousand?” Jintaru asked. “I feel a little insulted, Ornestoro. I’d have hoped these men would have died for at least three.”

Turning back to face Jintaru, Ornestoro replied.

“These days, one thousand gold can buy a man a kingdom, fadzir. Most people live in poverty. When one’s daily concern is whether or not one’s family gets to eat, the chance to swing a blade for one thousand coins seems like a wonderful opportunity.”

It was true, people were struggling everywhere. It was a sad fact of war. It left in its wake poverty and broken families. Fathers, brothers and sons, often breadwinners in the family, go off to war and get themselves killed only to leave nothing for the family they left behind. The story was the same all over. During his time in D’ol Dath, he saw hundreds of families without fathers starving on the roadside, girls as young as ten selling themselves to soldiers for the night in order to provide for their dying relatives. A sad fact of war. But a fact nonetheless.

Jintaru threw a glance over his shoulder at Nomi. He knew the blind man was doing himself no favours in ingratiating himself to Ornestoro. Jintaru wondered if he should just make the introduction, vouch for his silver haired tormentor and get him out of his hair.

“I never once said he didn’t speak, Yanimura…” He began. “…Only that he wouldn’t speak to you.” Turning back to face Ornestoro, he found the D’ol Dathri chuckling to himself.

Composing himself, Ornestoro glanced back at Nomi, his expression falling back into one of contemplation and pensiveness.

“Aerla el czandur, si moy nala, fadzir.” He spoke in D’ol Dath-tar.

“Nala si, Ornestoro.” Jintaru responded. “But he has coin and a need for a man with your extensive knowledge of things.” Both men looked over to where Nomi stood, a few feet from them. “He says he doesn’t trust you, Yanimura. I told him I didn’t either.” Jintaru looked back at Ornestoro. “I would consider it a personal favour for you to get him out of my life. Darkness bleeds, I’d pledge you my sword for free if you could make it forever.”

Ornestoro took a step from in front of Jintaru towards Nomi.

“Gela urla, paeneti riil, czandur.” He said.

Jintaru turned and looked at both men before allowing his gaze to settle on Nomi. “He says payment first, information after, Yanimura.”

[Feisty-Pants]

Annaveya Kushrina - The Northern Cross

The Naval commander simply sat and listened patiently while the Pirate went on a little bit of an annoying speech. Her intentions was to simply get a yes or no answer, but this one seemed completely incapable of simply shutting his mouth. On and on his drivel went, until at last he asked if she had a thing for tying people up. His ship was gone, he was a prisoner on her ship, and he still had the gall to try and insult her like that?

She had to admit that he had guts at least. Or he was simply insane. The answers to these choices probably varied greatly.

But no matter, her slender arms simply folded in front of her as she finished for the mad Pirate to complete his little speech. Once he did, the Merchant simply rolled her eyes for a moment before finally speaking back to him once again.

"A simple yes or no to my initial question would have been preferred." She stated upon the forefront, her crimson gaze never fading from the least from the annoying little man who stood there. "I don't care about your ship, or what you're looking for. As far as I'm concerned you can either give me the answer I want, or I can have your dead body hung from the gallows on public display."

Raising her fingertips, the Anna simply rapped her knuckles upon the steel door that divided Edoric from the rest of the ship. A metal shutter from the viewing port jerked open, and just the tip of a barrel jutted out just past the bars. The sight of which was lined up upon the tied and bound pirate. Annaveya however, still held her hand raised, her fingertip pointed towards the heavens.

"On my command, this fine gentleman will put a hole the size of a grapefruit through your skull. Let's try this again, shall we?" She leaned slowly forward, a hawkish gaze being cast down upon the captain as she simply stared him down. Like a bird of prey looking upon a rat, he was little more than a piece of dispensable piece of filth. Resting her chin leisurely upon an elbow as she sat, she continued. "Answer my first question. Whatever drivel you were going on about can be mused over later. Are you interested in an opportunity to actually survive, or not?"

"Answer quickly, or I'll carve out your one good eye and feed it to the birds."

[ClocktowerEchos]

Edoric looked at the girl and her fingers pointed at the heavens. He was severely doubtful a pistol would be able to produce a hole the size of grapefruit. He knew that most pistols, unless loaded with scrap iron instead of bullets, would create something smaller but just as citric-y. Maybe be a lemon or a mandarin, but not a grapefruit.

"Love, I'll accept your offer." Edoric sighed as he shook his chains a bit more, "But, I can survive anywhere, love."
He got up slightly and sat on his knees as he shook his hair out of his face, "I want to know if I can thrive."

As the room fell slient, nothing but the low howl of the wind could be heard and felt. Then Edoric sneezed, almost hitting his head aginast the hard wall, "Also, can I at least have my clothes back now? I prefer not to get hypothermia."

[Girlie Go Boom]

Genie~~<3!!

Big white ears perked up. The heart within that fuzzy chest beat that much faster. Icy blue eyes scanned the immediate vicinity for the reactions of the others here. At the tip of her long snout, that dark nose took in more about the others than they could ever imagine. They were nervous it seemed, for 'She' was home.

The sounds of the belly of the smelly beast clanking open. The sounds of 'her' and 'her' away team marching. The scent of something new; something in pain. Something sumptuous that may be waiting for her.

Her shaggy ivory coat shuddered as she stood upon all fours and shook it out. Icy blues peered over a shoulder and past her haunches as she stared, admired really, her wagging fluffy tail. A muffled yelp she let out as she scanned the helm. The others here were at the ready; a good thing they were not slacking off for 'she' was back on deck.

'She,' the Northern Cross would not stand for slackers and neither would this wolf. If that's what you would call such a large thing.

The shaggy white beast padded upon all fours over to the others here. She nodded at the Helmsman and at the Navigator. They nodded back at the wolf that was almost the size of a lion. Nearly 300 pounds and there was no way she would take any sort of disrespect from them regardless of their station. Genie had live much too long for that. And they knew that this wolf had bonded with their Commander. If Northern Cross said to keep things in order at the helm while she was away, there was no damned way Genie would ever let things get out of order.

But it was not as if Genie was immune to fun and chaos. No, she was a playful cub at heart, but being bonded to another was no light thing. At all. How many centuries had she bonded with others? A light chuffing sound, akin to laughing escaped her throat. Too long perhaps? But at any rate, along the corridors the Ghost Wolf padded along. Soft steps, astonishingly silent for something her size, briskly brought her towards where she knew the Commander would be; the Brig.

For if there was one thing she learned over the centuries, it was that you needed allies to survive; a lone wolf was a very cooooooooool state of being, however, in reality, all that 'coolness' got you was killed or failure at every turn. So over those years and years and years, Genvieve learned to bond and ally herself with those in positions of great opportunity or power. This was the way of the Ame Soeur. The Deviant Kind. The Kindred Spirit Wolf.

Yes, Genie did have her sisterhood and daughters made of her bloodline, but she knew it was not enough. And so in this decade, enter the crimson eyed Kushrina. What influence did this beauty have? What kind of power did she command?

More than enough for the Ghost Wolf to hide behind as she licked her wounds and rebuilt her own empire in the shadows.

Yes, Mz. Commander Annaveya Kushrina Northern Cross was violent, impulsive, vindictive and even cruel, but she was also very cunning and commanded a very sizeable portion to respect and clout in the armada. That, and Genie found her cute as hell. Huahahahah... perks of being 'watchdog'.... the ol' Wolfie gets to watch out for the pretty commander... even in sleep... Elle est tres sexy, ne c'est pas? Huahahahah...

But non, Genie was not pervie. At all. Non, she did as she was asked. As long as she was fed and kept safe, she would do as asked.

That and as long as her boots were kept safe. Oh, how the ol' Wolfie loved her midnight hued suede boots and it long, long shiny ribbon laces.

And so she was loyal to the Commander of the Dauntless Wind. For how many years it was, it neither felt short nor long to the Ghost Wolf, for keeping a bond was not about time. It was about maintenance. Oui, Genie had left time and again, but each time she did, rest assured the Ghost Wolf had returned.

But there were others out there that she needed to provide 'bond maintenance' with; in particular a certain blue-headed sweetheart. Oh, how she played that one... but still, the blue-headed sweetie was of utmost importance to keep in alliance regardless of how brainless that blue-headed sweetheart was.

At any rate, here she was now. 300 pounds of Genie, sitting upon her haunches at the side of the Commander of the Dauntless Wind. A curiosity stricken tilt of the head she gave the tied up stranger but that was all. Her tensed and obedient pose returned and she let her millenia old aura impress upon the stranger in the brig.

A hole the size of a grapefruit was the easy way out. If given the command, pain honed by centuries of experience would befall Monsieur Edoric Thatch. Icy blues, settled in upon the stranger, piercing him, assessing, ears perked and listening to the heart that beat behind that bare chest.

If given the command, the next 96 seconds of his life would become too excruciating to endure. If given the command, Genie would feed and later that night she would dance in her lovely favoured black suede boots licking her lips and fingers as she spun and twirled.

With all her will, she resisted wagging her gorgeous fluffy white tail and remained motionless at the side of the Northern Cross.

[Feisty-Pants]

Annaveya Kushrina - The Northern Cross

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as the Pirate agreed to accept the opportunity for survival that she had set before him. Success was always a wonderful thing to enjoy, and by any measure this man might have been insane; but he was certainly no fool. When he asked if he would possess the chance to thrive, the smile faded ever slightly. For now she had only a long prison sentence planned for him instead of a premature death after she no longer needed his services.

However, he didn't need to know that.

Asking for his clothes then, the Kushrina Mercantile Naval Commander snapped her fingers just once. At her command, two things happened. First the door creaked open to allow her absolute leviathan of a companion inside the prison chamber. Genie was her name, and Anna's nails lightly scratched the space between the Direwolf's ears. A crewmember poked his head inside, a recently demoted intelligence officer no less as a nervous inquiry came from him.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Lieutenant, find this man's clothing. Strike Team One will have taken them and searched for any contraband. Bring everything to me, as each article of curiosity will be questioned. Maintain his weapons in the Armory for now, but I believe we've found your replacement."

The younger Lieutenant glared furiously at Edoric for a moment, absolutely disgusted with the fact that such a ragged, unprofessional appearing man was going to take his spot. His glare however, was interrupted by the rapping of the silky hand of his commander next to his ear; causing him to jump as he was met with a harshly critical glare from Anna.

"Hurry up now. I'd rather not see me forced to have you lose another rank in front of your peers." The Commander stated with a subtle impatience marking her lips.

"Y-Yes ma'am! Apologies."

He darted away then, leaving Annaveya's focus to return to Edoric as the door was latched shut once again. For a long moment, her fingertips idly scratched the back of Genie's ears down unto the thick scruff of the Direwolf's neck. Assembling her next thoughts, the absolutely vicious Captain stopped the ever satisfying scratching dealt by her nails unto the massive hound.

"Ah yes, now that we have a little bit of quiet. Edoric Thatch, meet Genie. She is my loyal Direwolf, and she practically holds an almost equivalent rank to a Lieutenant Commander on my Ship. Tread lightly around her, her eyes and nose don't ever miss a thing." Lingering upon that last word for a moment, Annaveya folded one satin leg over the other and rested her arms upon them, leaning forward to look at Edoric.

"The opportunity before you is this. My intelligence assets on the ground have proven them unreliable too often as of late. While I consolidate those issues and eliminate them, I hereby request your assistance in locating, identifying, and eliminating Pirates. Their threat while minimal to my fleet, is still viable to my mercantile sections. The greater measure by which you assist me will be given with greater reward. So, depending on your actions, you will be granted a chance to thrive.

Her continued detailing of her offer was interrupted with the opening of a door a second time. In bustled the unhappy Lieutenant, settling a pile of neatly folded, repaired, and cleaned clothing beside Edoric. Then, a burlap bag beside that of Annaveya full of various items and knick knacks were set beside the Captain. She stood as the door slammed shut again, and she unsheathed a knife from the back of her waist. Holding up the hand signal for Genie to remain still, the Captain strode across the short distance to Edoric.

Reaching up with her knife, the tightly bound ropes that held Edoric's wrists and ankles fastened tightly together were cut through rather easily like a hot knife through butter. Backing away from him as she sheathed her knife and sitting once again as she sheathed her knife, Annaveya looked from him to his clothing as if the point was simple enough.

"Your rags are repaired and cleaned. Enjoy. Get dressed as I rifle through the remainder of your belongings."

Most of the basic nonsensical trinkets he had were simply set aside as something else caught her curiosity. A folded, precariously cared for piece of heavier parchment. It felt older, more peculiar than anything else. Perhaps this might actually be worth addressing Edoric about.

Tossing it in front of him as he continued getting dressed, the Northern Cross had but only one question for the Pirate.

"Now that business is done, what is this?"

[Suku]

Mara Julchen

"Maria Julchen Journal Log XX-XX-XXXX
I have currently chartered a ship that would probably take me to Midway where ship awaits me. After my run in with some less than savory bunch of pirates I have separated from my ship and its crew to venture off to find the location of one person. Edoric Thatch who is possibly the worlds greatest if not stupidest pirate that have set sail. His gambling debt owed to me as of day XX-XX-XXXX has reached maximum he is as of now being hunted as we speak. My darling liebchens have set forth with Leviathan's Claw aid to find any where about's of his location.

Yes leviathan's claw has been a most productive investment if I do say so myself. My darling liebchens of course make sure everything is going well and as of now they have yet to fail me. Still Edoric Thatch has gone far to long without payment and as such I must personally go forward to make sure I get paid. Such a waste as well but those who owe must pay through money or be forced to work off their debt. It was a harsh system but like the world that they lived it wasnt all sunshine and rainbows."

Finishing up her daily journal entry Maria placed her feathered hat on her head as she brushed her long silver hair to the side as she stepped out of her cabin. It was just luck that as she was passing by she heard someone mumbling about a Edoric Thatch on the ship. Well now this is just pure luck. She though as she started to laugh as she covered her face with her hand This was to good that blasted pirate was on this ship? Setting off she stormed towards his location at the brig which she got off of one person. Walking through she was met with some opposing force but it was easy to convince them allow her to patch though. "EDORIC THATCH!!! I finally found you good for nothing rat" she screamed out as she reached the brig "I am here to collect the payment you owe me for gambling debts."

[ClocktowerEchos]

Edoric looked at the Direwolf as the angry young man brough in his clothes and presumably his belongs in a bag. Pirates hunting pirates eh? Almost like cannabalism. Edoric thought as the girl cut off his bindings. He rubbed his wrists and stood up, standing taller than Anna by a good head or two. He faced the corner of the room as he slipped on his shirt and pants along with the rest of his outfit. Rule number 40 of being a gentleman pirate dictated that one should only change in view of a lover.

Buttoning up the shirt, he heard Anna dump the contents of the bag on to the floor. "Hey, careful with my stuff will you?" Edoric buttoned his cuffs as Anna rifled through his trinkets. He checked his boots and his chest piece's straps as the tinkling noise stopped and Anna asked, "Now that business is done, what is this?"

Edoric turned around and with one swift move, he slipped his arms through his coat and caught the heavy parchement packaged and smiled, "This, love, is what will help me getting my treasure."

He dropped to one knee and rolled it out, revealing a pristine map despite how old the outside looked. Behind the fading parchment was a series of thin wooden strips, colored and etched to show current borders of nations along the edge. However, in the middle was a series of rings, each one getting smaller in width as it got closer to a golden ball right in the center.

At a first glance, the rings made very little sense. The lands etched into the moveable rings where on no normal map and gibberish marked along the edges of the rings where they could be turned. The sharp black ink stood out against the fading, but still clearly visible lands. The words looked like some form of alien language as if something other than mortal branded its language on to the scroll.

"What is this?" Anna questionably looked at the map, "This map is horribly wrong. Only the outside seems right and even then its still off."

"Lass, that because this is no normal map. This is a Fog Map. One that lead you to it to be precise." Edoric fiddled with the rings, "It leads to everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The marks will become word if you so wish them to be and the lands will become real."

Edoric twisted two of the rings and the words "The sky is of fire, purging those unworthy" from what was random ink marks seconds ago. Turning a different ring, the words disappeared into unreadable script and disconnected shapes formed a solid, noticeable land. Aging red, decaying green, and faint yellow formed connected land piece with no strange edges or unrealistic ends.

"Its said that one will never see the map in the same way twice." Edoric looked to Anna and smiled as he once again moved the rings.

"It doesn't make sense." Anna eyed the pirate and his ancient map, "What good is a map that never shows the same place twice? And its impossible for that to be true."

With that Anna reached over and turned the rings to the exact spots she remembered Edoric had them. Her slender fingers danced on the old map as she nudged it ever so gently to get it exactly right. But to her surprise, Edoric was right. Even when she had turned the rings right back to where they were, there was no more connected land mass, no more words that formed from the incoherent markings.

"See lass? This is what gets you to the edge of the world." Edoric leaned over and lifted Anna's hand off the map, "But this is how you travel into the veil beyond."

He folded his hand until only his index finger was out and pressed the tiny golden button in the center. His hand glowed a faint blue in some strange ruin. As he lifted his hand up, the mark shimmering through his glove, the rings followed his hand as if they were connected with invisible strings.

Anna drew in a curious breath as the rings became thicker in mid-air, and it flipped itself by a 90 degree angle and parallel to the wall. One by one, the rings slowly began to un agin themselves and continued spinning gracefully. The final result looked more like a gyroscope then the original map. The rings where golden and so beautifully crafted, there was no way mere mortal hands could ever hope to forge such a thing. Even the colors of the landmasses went from their dull and fading colors, to being vibrant and glittered faintly as the gyro-map move about.

"This is a true Fog Map, one that will guide you in the deepest regions." Edoric whispered as the Fog Map's rings rotated along contiguously moving axis, it a beautiful thing that only few people knew how to read, "This map will never show you where you are in correlation to the world, it will show where the world is in correlation to you."

"That makes no sense." Anna questioned Edoric as she stared into the gently moving map, unconiously moving a hand to touch it.

The gyroscope suddenly moved back and its rings rotated like a flustered chicken. "Love, everything makes sense if you don't think about it." Edoric said as Anna moved her hand to chase after it, the orb dodging all attempts, "The map choose who is worthy enough to be its master. You, who have never even been in the Outer Layer, are no where near worthy enough to have its respect."

"Pft." Anna scoffed as he retracted her hand and the gyro-orb returned to floating above Edoric's palm.

"With this I can find things that no one else will ever touch. This is what will lead me to thrive in this world lass." Edoric stared into the center of the twinkling Fog Map, "I am searching for an magical item said to be able to call down the sun as a weapon."
As if on its own, the orb transferred itself back on to the ancient map and the pirate captain's hand stopped glowing, "All things considered, this is very viable to your mercantile sections and possible the sections that no ordinary person ought to know."
Rolling up the map and tucking it under his arm, "Now I want to ask you something, how much do you trust me if I were to lead such a venture?" Edoric bowed, "With your 'guidance' of course."

"And how do I know you won't stab me in the back and run off to what ever rat hole you came from?" Anna rested her head on a clenched fist.
"Because of two things. One, rule number 62 of being a gentleman pirate says no deceiving women." Edoric swept everything on the ground back into the bag and slung it over his shoulder, "Two, if you do allow this, that 'rat hole from which I came' is the first place I will have to visit."