Forsythe
RPM
Achronum
kittyluna45
Scrawl Banditta
Not a Sayan
KazAlkemi
Neziul
@Nallore@BlueSky44@Dark Light@FantasyChic@mnkee
The Port of Tortuga: April 4th, 1719 - 2:03 PM Local Time
@mnkee -
Outside of the tavern, the streets are abuzz with action. While entertainers normally wait till dark to come out and strut their more dangerous stunts, a crowd has formed a thick circle. Just barely, Sirena will be able to make out a rather odd sight, though perhaps not as bizarre as some other things she has witnessed that day. The performer tosses little balls, all of them aflame, only to catch them without any indication of pain. The crowd gasps in astonishment and the performer pauses, dipping her hands in some form of liquid, before returning to juggling the balls.
But as exciting as that all is, a little girl with dark skin tugs on Sirena's shirt. "No puedo encontrar a mi madre..."
Harlianne James
Location: Near the the Bellona - Port of Tortuga Docks
Harlianne gave Jon a bit of a strange look, followed by a slow shake of her head, as if chastising a small child. She still stood on the rope ladder on the side of her vessel, a good few feet above the ground. It wouldn't be too much effort for Harlianne to climb back aboard or to jump down to be on the same level as the rest of the small gathering. "'ow do yer think this works, right, man, then, squire? We kill the bleedin' wee bugger just ter cop wot she 'as on 'er now, then, eh?" Harlianne asked incredulously.
"Nah, mate, i'n it? We're pirates but we ain't daft. We 'ave wot she 'as, rough 'er up a bit - few o' the men will likely 'ave their way wiv 'er. And then, right, we 'old 'er 'ostage. Right good and proper. There's a low risk o' any navy layin' siege ter Tortuga, so 'er dear ole dad will 'ave ter send payment. Maybe they let 'er go. Maybe they kill 'er anyways." She shrugged, dropping down to the docks, with one hand still on the ladder.
Alice paled, hearing Harlianne's words to Jon. She might have been engaged, but she was still a child in many ways. She turned to look towards her minder, searching for strength and courage in her face. "Waverly, we are perfectly safe, are we not?" Alice whispered. Waverly turned to look towards the pirates to their back, the ones that previously held Jon captive and had at least five more slaves left to sell that day.
"No harm shall come to you, Miss Blackwood," Waverly, her minder, replied solemnly. "Need I remind you that I am far more than merely a Companion to Ladies?" Waverly added, the slightest hint of a smile on her face. Alice relaxed considerably at the reminder, paying no attention to the pirates behind her. She instead turned to Jon and Millicent, the two whose whispers had gone unheard.
"Let us go to attend to this poor woman's father, good doctor," Miss Blackwood said, her tone simultaneously light and indicating that it was not a request. It was the politeness of a peer--seemingly kind and soft, yet with no indication that it was anything but an order.
The pirates who had held Jon captive may have been biding their time before, but the doctor's words brought a crooked smile to their face. Rather than inspiring indecision and fear in them towards attacking Miss Blackwood, they saw a far richer profit to be had. It was precisely as Harlianne had said, or so, it appeared to be. There was no honor amongst thieves.
"Miss Blackwood!" Jon's previous captain called out, sauntering forward with a pistol drawn and cocked. The pistol was aimed for the young Alice. "The good doctor here is correct...We wouldn't want to cross a powerful father with....what was it? Endless resources?" The captain chuckled slightly, nodding over towards Jon. "But ya see, if that were true, he'd be right...But yo're engaged, aren't ye, love? Yer the property of anotha' man, one methinks will be too daft t' do much about this...Édouard Riviere, ain't it? The Cabbage."
Aravis Zacharia
Location: Outside of the King's Arm - Port of Tortuga
Leaving a barroom brawl is always easier said than done. One of the combatants picked up a table and lobbed it halfway across the pub, as if in an attempt to show off his strength to any of the lovely women near by. The table crashed a few feet behind Anastasia and Elissa, with bits of wood flying and splintering themselves into the girls' legs. It'll sting, but as injuries go, it isn't too bad. Anastasia's sliced up hand is far more concerning.
"You're bleeding, Elissa," Aravis pointed out, once the three of them had made their way out of the pub. "Ought to get the pair of you to a doctor..." She racked her brains, trying to think of a good physician to visit in Tortuga, but she came up empty. Most of them were attached to ships, and if they weren't, they were generally pressed into service quickly enough. If there were any in Tortuga, she figured they'd either be hiding out in the Misty Mire or staying in one of the many taverns. Aravis herself lived in one of the abandoned huts at the moment, finding that only those who didn't want any questions asked would venture out there and that suited her perfectly well. She was a thief, after all.
"Does your ship have a surgeon, Anastasia?" Aravis asked, hoping that the answer would be affirmative. If not, the best they could do for now would be to wrap up the wounds and look to see if any doctors could be found nearby. But with Anastasia's wounds, Aravis wondered if it would be perhaps best to take the woman back to her own humble abode while she set out to search.
Édouard Riviere
Location: Twelve Daggers Tavern - Port of Tortuga
Édouard arrived back at the tavern just a few minutes after Sirena had left. The men were still looking a bit uneasy, sitting quietly and not doing much talking. It was to be expected, after all, due to the threats given by Edgard. There was practically a bit of a saying when it came to those members of La Fraternité du Sang--never trust a man with Ed somewhere in his name. They were either a complete idiot or the most terrifying person you would ever meet.
"Bonjour, bonjour!" Édouard called out, making up a bit of news to give the crew as he walked into the door. The witch hadn't been there to confuse him, so he had been trying to come up with his own bit of explanation about the cursed flask. The most obvious conundrum was why the thing always ended up back in the Devil's Triangle--the last person to take it would die and then the thing would vanish, only to be found back in the triangle once more.
Édouard decided that a good old fashioned ghost story would like explain the thing. In his mind, he made up a lost spirit--or perhaps, no, the spirit of someone not yet alive! He grinned a bit to himself, imagining a ghost attached to the flask who gave bearers powers, but ended up growing tired and killing them before returning to its home in the triangle.
"Edgard, salut! Comment ça va? Ça va bien, j'espère?"
