N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23-223
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 17 days ago
Status
Recent Statuses
17 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
likes
25 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
likes
1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
like
3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
1
like
Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
-220
"Sounds good," Junebug agreed, "when do we get started?" The Stinger laughed an indulgent laugh at the question, which brought sycophantic smiles from the various hangers on within ear shot. It was clear that despite her outwardly pleasant persona, the thugs she surrounded herself with were rightly terrified.
"So eager," the Stinger chuckled lounging back on her chair to display her generous assets.
"The morning will be soon enough, around here we know that there is more to life than work, can I offer you lodging?" she asked with an arch look in Neil's direction.
"That won't be necessary," Junebug replied in a tone so devoid of emotion that if you didn't know her well you might have thought meant disinterest. No one who had seen Junebug in action would make that mistake.
"Well then my men will find you in the morning when we are ready to start the operation."
After a few more pleasantries they were ushered out of the building, past the drunken partying guards and back out into the city. Once they left the saftey of the armed compound, the situation deteriorated rapidly. With the addition of alcohol durgs, and the general degeneracy that seemed to come from sharing poor behavior in crowds the town had descended into more or less general chaos. Gunfire could be heard in the distance but in the random an intermittent patterns that were usually associated more with drunken good spirits rather than combat. At the dividing line between the two gangs territory thugs still shouted and posture and random civilians were being shaken down, and in the case of the women, groped, if they dared leave their dwellings. Several men staggered drunkenly towards Junebug and Taya but they weren't so drunk that Sayeeda an Neil simultaneously pulling their side arms didn't send them running.
"I had thought to sleep on the ship," Junebug said as she glanced down the street. The gangs had barricaded cars in with their bodies and the owners had abandoned them at least for the night. It didn't seem likely that any attempt to travel the few kilometers to the ship was likely to be particularly successful. Junebug took a cigarette from an ammunition pouch on her belt and sparked it alight, shielding the flame from the gentle wind with cupped hands until she got it going.
"Might not be the best idea anyway," Neil put in, "Our new employer might not think to well if it looked like we were skipping town right away. Or going to inform her insectiod buddies as to the fact that her shipment is going out to... wherever tomorrow."
"Please, if she has told anyone at, the whole city knows by now," Junebug replied, leading them away from the main boulevard without any particular destination in mind. The side streets were dark and lined with low adobe houses, many had kitchen gardens and some which might once have been prosperous. Small kitchen gardens grew behind low walls, many of which were topped with broken glass, though Junebug didn't see how that was a real deterrent. A sudden scream interrupted further conversation as a young boy, perhaps no more than thirteen years old burst from an alley, pursued by two thugs in the colors of the Scorpions. One of them whooped with glee as he kicked the childs legs from under him, sending the boy toppling to the ground. A brown paper bag spun from his hands and the boy lunged after it only to be kicked in the ribs as the second pursuer caught up.
"What have you got here street rat?" one of them laughed, snatching up the bag and shaking it like a birthday present.
"No! Please that is my fathers medicine he needs it!" the boy wailed, curling into a ball to avoid a further kick that tore the skin on his arms.
"Whoa their friends," Junebug called out taking a step towards them.
"Stay out of this bitch!" one of the thugs screamed, spinning to shriek at her with speed and fury borne of whatever drug he was strung out on. Junebug stepped within his reach before he could bring the pistol in his hand to bear, catching his wrist and delivering a punch to his stomach that drove the air from his lungs. As he doubled over she drove her elbow into his face breaking his nose with a spout of blood and pulling the gun from his hand. His partner, yelled a curse and grabbed for his own gun. Neil's shot took his hand off at the wrist a heartbeat before Junebug emptied his left eye socket with the stolen pistol. The boy shouted something that sounded like a cry to his mother as he curled up in the dirt wishing the incident to be over but psycologically unable to take any action to end it.
"Watch..." Taya shouted as a third thug, hastily pulling up his trousers from where he had been reliving himself, stepped from the alley with a sub machine gun raised. His chest exploded in bloody ruin and he tumbled to the ground, finger clamping the trigger of the weapon and blowing chunks from the adobe wall of the alley with a long spasmodic burst. Junebug shot him through the head to be certain.
"Get away from him!" a woman snapped running out of the alley with a smoking shotgun. She was in her middle years, dark of hair and dressed in the conservative garb of the locals.
"Jose get up," she told the boy, presumably her son, while she waved the shotgun in the general direction of the mercenaries. Junebug lifted the stolen pistol skyward and spread her hands to show she had no ill intent.
"Who are these people," she asked Jose as he collected the bag and scrambled to his feet, eyes darting over the now dead thugs. The one at Junebug's feet was crying, clutching at his bloody nose.
"They killed the men who attacked me, I know I should have gone out mama but papa needed his medicine an..."
"Run home Jose," the woman snapped turning and thrusting her boy off in the direction he had been running when the thugs had jumped him. The woman turned still brandishing the shotgun. Sayeeda didn't think the woman would shoot, but saw no reason to encourage it.
"Is that true, did you kill these filth?" the woman demanded, hatred evident in her voice.
"Well, that one," Junebug told her indicating the dead man laying in the middle of the alley.
"Think I have to give you credit for the one you shot though, I just dont like to take chances," Junebug explained, "Speaking of which..." she leveled the pistol at the crying man and put two shots into the back of his neck, silencing his cries. The woman jumped back wide eyed as Junebug safed the pistol and dropped it on the corpse.
"Why did you do that?!" the woman demanded. Junebug shrugged her shoulders and reached down to recover her cigarette. She gave it a mournful look and then flicked it away into the night.
"Well you used your son's name, cant take chances with people like this," Junebug advised. The woman eyes widened with understanding and she finally raised the shotgun.
"I am Magdelena," she told them, "and I owe you a great debt for saving my sons life. How can I repay you?"
"Well you dont need to..." Junebug trailed off glancing back at the almost riot going on in the main street.
"Actually, my friends and I cant get back to our ship tonight and we need a place to sleep is it possible..."
"Of course! You must stay with us, come, come," Magdelena said gesturing them to follow her. Junebug had merely intended to ask if there was a safe place she could recommend for them to find rooms but this was an acceptable alternative.
"So eager," the Stinger chuckled lounging back on her chair to display her generous assets.
"The morning will be soon enough, around here we know that there is more to life than work, can I offer you lodging?" she asked with an arch look in Neil's direction.
"That won't be necessary," Junebug replied in a tone so devoid of emotion that if you didn't know her well you might have thought meant disinterest. No one who had seen Junebug in action would make that mistake.
"Well then my men will find you in the morning when we are ready to start the operation."
After a few more pleasantries they were ushered out of the building, past the drunken partying guards and back out into the city. Once they left the saftey of the armed compound, the situation deteriorated rapidly. With the addition of alcohol durgs, and the general degeneracy that seemed to come from sharing poor behavior in crowds the town had descended into more or less general chaos. Gunfire could be heard in the distance but in the random an intermittent patterns that were usually associated more with drunken good spirits rather than combat. At the dividing line between the two gangs territory thugs still shouted and posture and random civilians were being shaken down, and in the case of the women, groped, if they dared leave their dwellings. Several men staggered drunkenly towards Junebug and Taya but they weren't so drunk that Sayeeda an Neil simultaneously pulling their side arms didn't send them running.
"I had thought to sleep on the ship," Junebug said as she glanced down the street. The gangs had barricaded cars in with their bodies and the owners had abandoned them at least for the night. It didn't seem likely that any attempt to travel the few kilometers to the ship was likely to be particularly successful. Junebug took a cigarette from an ammunition pouch on her belt and sparked it alight, shielding the flame from the gentle wind with cupped hands until she got it going.
"Might not be the best idea anyway," Neil put in, "Our new employer might not think to well if it looked like we were skipping town right away. Or going to inform her insectiod buddies as to the fact that her shipment is going out to... wherever tomorrow."
"Please, if she has told anyone at, the whole city knows by now," Junebug replied, leading them away from the main boulevard without any particular destination in mind. The side streets were dark and lined with low adobe houses, many had kitchen gardens and some which might once have been prosperous. Small kitchen gardens grew behind low walls, many of which were topped with broken glass, though Junebug didn't see how that was a real deterrent. A sudden scream interrupted further conversation as a young boy, perhaps no more than thirteen years old burst from an alley, pursued by two thugs in the colors of the Scorpions. One of them whooped with glee as he kicked the childs legs from under him, sending the boy toppling to the ground. A brown paper bag spun from his hands and the boy lunged after it only to be kicked in the ribs as the second pursuer caught up.
"What have you got here street rat?" one of them laughed, snatching up the bag and shaking it like a birthday present.
"No! Please that is my fathers medicine he needs it!" the boy wailed, curling into a ball to avoid a further kick that tore the skin on his arms.
"Whoa their friends," Junebug called out taking a step towards them.
"Stay out of this bitch!" one of the thugs screamed, spinning to shriek at her with speed and fury borne of whatever drug he was strung out on. Junebug stepped within his reach before he could bring the pistol in his hand to bear, catching his wrist and delivering a punch to his stomach that drove the air from his lungs. As he doubled over she drove her elbow into his face breaking his nose with a spout of blood and pulling the gun from his hand. His partner, yelled a curse and grabbed for his own gun. Neil's shot took his hand off at the wrist a heartbeat before Junebug emptied his left eye socket with the stolen pistol. The boy shouted something that sounded like a cry to his mother as he curled up in the dirt wishing the incident to be over but psycologically unable to take any action to end it.
"Watch..." Taya shouted as a third thug, hastily pulling up his trousers from where he had been reliving himself, stepped from the alley with a sub machine gun raised. His chest exploded in bloody ruin and he tumbled to the ground, finger clamping the trigger of the weapon and blowing chunks from the adobe wall of the alley with a long spasmodic burst. Junebug shot him through the head to be certain.
"Get away from him!" a woman snapped running out of the alley with a smoking shotgun. She was in her middle years, dark of hair and dressed in the conservative garb of the locals.
"Jose get up," she told the boy, presumably her son, while she waved the shotgun in the general direction of the mercenaries. Junebug lifted the stolen pistol skyward and spread her hands to show she had no ill intent.
"Who are these people," she asked Jose as he collected the bag and scrambled to his feet, eyes darting over the now dead thugs. The one at Junebug's feet was crying, clutching at his bloody nose.
"They killed the men who attacked me, I know I should have gone out mama but papa needed his medicine an..."
"Run home Jose," the woman snapped turning and thrusting her boy off in the direction he had been running when the thugs had jumped him. The woman turned still brandishing the shotgun. Sayeeda didn't think the woman would shoot, but saw no reason to encourage it.
"Is that true, did you kill these filth?" the woman demanded, hatred evident in her voice.
"Well, that one," Junebug told her indicating the dead man laying in the middle of the alley.
"Think I have to give you credit for the one you shot though, I just dont like to take chances," Junebug explained, "Speaking of which..." she leveled the pistol at the crying man and put two shots into the back of his neck, silencing his cries. The woman jumped back wide eyed as Junebug safed the pistol and dropped it on the corpse.
"Why did you do that?!" the woman demanded. Junebug shrugged her shoulders and reached down to recover her cigarette. She gave it a mournful look and then flicked it away into the night.
"Well you used your son's name, cant take chances with people like this," Junebug advised. The woman eyes widened with understanding and she finally raised the shotgun.
"I am Magdelena," she told them, "and I owe you a great debt for saving my sons life. How can I repay you?"
"Well you dont need to..." Junebug trailed off glancing back at the almost riot going on in the main street.
"Actually, my friends and I cant get back to our ship tonight and we need a place to sleep is it possible..."
"Of course! You must stay with us, come, come," Magdelena said gesturing them to follow her. Junebug had merely intended to ask if there was a safe place she could recommend for them to find rooms but this was an acceptable alternative.
-217
Rene gave Rosaria a level look. Violence had an appeal to those who did not themselves practice it. Rosaria's life had not been an easy one and she would have been exposed to the calculated brutality of Alayla Thorne's criminal empire, but she had never herself held a blade or a gun with the intent to kill, or watched helpless while bullets cut down friends and comrades. It must have seemed to her like all her problems might have been solved with a gun or a knife, but Rene knew better than most that a gun wasn't a magic wand that fixed a situation just because you waved it around.
"Duchess Falia," the Kalderi declared, his galactic broken but intelligible. The alien looked to be a young male, muscular and in good shape, though there was discoloration on his face that might have been a result of his clearly heightened emotional state. As Rosaria had noted he wore a sword at his side and his hand tightened and loosened on the hilt with what might have been nerves or anger. Rene's own hand drifted unobtrusively to his sword, not so much thinking of a challenge as of the alien making a sudden lunge for Solae. Kalderi were quick, but Rene was confident enough in his training and his own genetic enhancement to believe he could intercept such a strike.
"You claim to speak for the Humans, then you must answer for their crimes!" the male declared loud enough the the buzz of conversation died away as every Kalderi in the ballroom turned to look at him. Rene risked a quick glance around the room Lithyll looked discomforted and several other Kaleeri looked away and drooped their wings in what Rene took for embarrassment.
"You have no voice here Totlya," Lityll said sternly, stepping towards the younger male. Totlya thrust out a hand shoving Lithyll back and caused another murmur of disapproval from the other Kalderi. It seemed that the community focus of Kalderi society made any kind of police or security element unpalatable as it segregated one group from another. From what little Rene had been able to learn, even the ships above them were considered their own communities rather than an extension of this one and only incidentally fulfilled the role of protecting the planet.
"I have a voice as a challenger, and I declare a challenge for this female," Totlya snapped, wings beating in agitation as he gestured to Solae.
"As my mate was taken from me without proper challenge by a human, so shall I do," he snapped barring his teeth. Lityll hesitated clearly on the brink of making a further objection but the other Kalderi, Andalyll , stepped forward. It was difficult to read his expression, but Rene thought that he too looked a little uncomfortable with the situation.
"Totlya, has a voice as a challenger," he agreed glancing between the agitated younger male and the pair of humans. Andalyll's wings seemed to shift rapidly in agitation though Rene couldn't see it in the Alien's face. Totlya smiled triumphantly before turning to the crowd.
"As many of you know, my mate was taken from me by one of the humans, a so called trader, carried off without proper challenge and smuggled aboard his starship to be taken who knows where! Are we to allow these human barbarians to steal us away in the night?! There must be justice for the sake of the community!"
"Duchess Falia," the Kalderi declared, his galactic broken but intelligible. The alien looked to be a young male, muscular and in good shape, though there was discoloration on his face that might have been a result of his clearly heightened emotional state. As Rosaria had noted he wore a sword at his side and his hand tightened and loosened on the hilt with what might have been nerves or anger. Rene's own hand drifted unobtrusively to his sword, not so much thinking of a challenge as of the alien making a sudden lunge for Solae. Kalderi were quick, but Rene was confident enough in his training and his own genetic enhancement to believe he could intercept such a strike.
"You claim to speak for the Humans, then you must answer for their crimes!" the male declared loud enough the the buzz of conversation died away as every Kalderi in the ballroom turned to look at him. Rene risked a quick glance around the room Lithyll looked discomforted and several other Kaleeri looked away and drooped their wings in what Rene took for embarrassment.
"You have no voice here Totlya," Lityll said sternly, stepping towards the younger male. Totlya thrust out a hand shoving Lithyll back and caused another murmur of disapproval from the other Kalderi. It seemed that the community focus of Kalderi society made any kind of police or security element unpalatable as it segregated one group from another. From what little Rene had been able to learn, even the ships above them were considered their own communities rather than an extension of this one and only incidentally fulfilled the role of protecting the planet.
"I have a voice as a challenger, and I declare a challenge for this female," Totlya snapped, wings beating in agitation as he gestured to Solae.
"As my mate was taken from me without proper challenge by a human, so shall I do," he snapped barring his teeth. Lityll hesitated clearly on the brink of making a further objection but the other Kalderi, Andalyll , stepped forward. It was difficult to read his expression, but Rene thought that he too looked a little uncomfortable with the situation.
"Totlya, has a voice as a challenger," he agreed glancing between the agitated younger male and the pair of humans. Andalyll's wings seemed to shift rapidly in agitation though Rene couldn't see it in the Alien's face. Totlya smiled triumphantly before turning to the crowd.
"As many of you know, my mate was taken from me by one of the humans, a so called trader, carried off without proper challenge and smuggled aboard his starship to be taken who knows where! Are we to allow these human barbarians to steal us away in the night?! There must be justice for the sake of the community!"
"Everything in order Hickoring?" Captain Micha asked from his console in the center of the bridge.
The Captain seemed to be squinting hard with a slight tick in his right eye. Clearly he had enjoyed a little too much of the Commodore's wine and was now feeling the alcohols retribution. Sabatine might have been in a similar state but Kaiden's company had put her off her usual enthusiasm for liquor and the subsequent duties of bringing the Vickie to readiness for launch had sweated the rest of the booze out of her most satisfactorily. The various officers gathered on the bridge. Graving, their gunner also looked a little worse for the wear and he hunched over her console running target simulations involving a simultaneous missile deflection and close in shot against an enemy warship. Graving was enthusiastic about her job but like most gunners found little occasion to practice her craft. Candleworth, the sailing master, was also hard at work, though the leathery faced old Kostroman did not appear to be suffering the after effects of partying. It was ships lore that they would certainly wreck if Candleworth ever cracked a smile or had any fun whatsoever. His work seemed to involve watching a count down timer. At first Sabatine thought this was a count down till lift of, but she realized after a moment that it was a decrypt countdown. Commodore Welkins had not yet told the ships of his scattering command where they were to go, and even the Captains of those vessels wouldn't know until the decryption time built into the electronic orders. Candleworth was watching so he could begin course computations the second he had the information. Midshipman Daglish, a young officer, recently graduated the academy sat at another of the terminals. Daglish had not impressed Sabatine in the three months he had been with the Vickies company. He seemed to her the sort of fellow who tried to look like he was busy to avoid actually having to do any work. At the moment his screen was at too great an angle to her eyes to read, but she reminded herself to pull the record of his activity when she had the leisure.
"Yes sir," she responded with confidence, having checked in with both Savachev and Higgs only a few minutes ago. Higgs did seem to know his business and she tried not to let his association with Kaiden taint the man in her mind.
"Chief of Ship and Chief of Rig report all stations in the green, and we are in all respects..." she trailed off as the Captain's eyes focused behind her as Kaiden stepped onto the bridge. Sabatine glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to Micha.
"Ready to lift," she concluded doing her level best not to stiffen at Kaiden's arrival. Whatever her past with him, he was right that they would have to work together.
"Would you like me to shift forward to the bridge so the XO can take my place in the BDC sir?" she asked. The BDC, or Battle Direction Center, was an armored replica of the bridge in the rear of the ship. In theory if a hit destroyed the bridge or incapacitated the Captain the crew in the BDC could continue to fight the ship. In reality, on a ship the size of the Vickie a hit which destroyed the bridge was likely to kill everyone on board, but the RCN preferred to remain optimistic.
"No, but stay forward for now," Micha told her, "We will all read our orders together." There was a light commotion and then Tilda Savari slipped onto the bridge, taking a seat at one of the jumpseats of an empty console and smiling that thirty gigawatt smile. Sabatine refrained from grinding her teeth with an effort.
"Yes sir, looking forward to finding out where we are headed."
The Captain seemed to be squinting hard with a slight tick in his right eye. Clearly he had enjoyed a little too much of the Commodore's wine and was now feeling the alcohols retribution. Sabatine might have been in a similar state but Kaiden's company had put her off her usual enthusiasm for liquor and the subsequent duties of bringing the Vickie to readiness for launch had sweated the rest of the booze out of her most satisfactorily. The various officers gathered on the bridge. Graving, their gunner also looked a little worse for the wear and he hunched over her console running target simulations involving a simultaneous missile deflection and close in shot against an enemy warship. Graving was enthusiastic about her job but like most gunners found little occasion to practice her craft. Candleworth, the sailing master, was also hard at work, though the leathery faced old Kostroman did not appear to be suffering the after effects of partying. It was ships lore that they would certainly wreck if Candleworth ever cracked a smile or had any fun whatsoever. His work seemed to involve watching a count down timer. At first Sabatine thought this was a count down till lift of, but she realized after a moment that it was a decrypt countdown. Commodore Welkins had not yet told the ships of his scattering command where they were to go, and even the Captains of those vessels wouldn't know until the decryption time built into the electronic orders. Candleworth was watching so he could begin course computations the second he had the information. Midshipman Daglish, a young officer, recently graduated the academy sat at another of the terminals. Daglish had not impressed Sabatine in the three months he had been with the Vickies company. He seemed to her the sort of fellow who tried to look like he was busy to avoid actually having to do any work. At the moment his screen was at too great an angle to her eyes to read, but she reminded herself to pull the record of his activity when she had the leisure.
"Yes sir," she responded with confidence, having checked in with both Savachev and Higgs only a few minutes ago. Higgs did seem to know his business and she tried not to let his association with Kaiden taint the man in her mind.
"Chief of Ship and Chief of Rig report all stations in the green, and we are in all respects..." she trailed off as the Captain's eyes focused behind her as Kaiden stepped onto the bridge. Sabatine glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to Micha.
"Ready to lift," she concluded doing her level best not to stiffen at Kaiden's arrival. Whatever her past with him, he was right that they would have to work together.
"Would you like me to shift forward to the bridge so the XO can take my place in the BDC sir?" she asked. The BDC, or Battle Direction Center, was an armored replica of the bridge in the rear of the ship. In theory if a hit destroyed the bridge or incapacitated the Captain the crew in the BDC could continue to fight the ship. In reality, on a ship the size of the Vickie a hit which destroyed the bridge was likely to kill everyone on board, but the RCN preferred to remain optimistic.
"No, but stay forward for now," Micha told her, "We will all read our orders together." There was a light commotion and then Tilda Savari slipped onto the bridge, taking a seat at one of the jumpseats of an empty console and smiling that thirty gigawatt smile. Sabatine refrained from grinding her teeth with an effort.
"Yes sir, looking forward to finding out where we are headed."
"So the steam compresses until it lifts the piston which works the arm?" Emmaline asked leaning forward to observe the metal workings of the engine. The engine-room was well below the waterline in a section which might once have been part of a powder magazine. The steam engine itself was the size of a small wagon, though a lot of that was a large wooden barrel that stored water. According to Makem, a balding mustached engineer from Nuln, fresh water worked best and kept salt from building up in the pipes which drove the propeller. Although he had initially been nervous to allow Emmaline near the machine, her persistent interest and her ability to transmute salt water into the pure element had eventually won him over.
"I have to admit that some of it is a bit too complicated for me," Makem admitted, wiping the sweat and cold dust from his face with a filthy handkerchief.
"The Dwarves have arts of engineering that we know nothing off," the man went on, sounding equal parts sour and impressed. He punctuated the remark but patting the chugging machine happily.
"I can keep it running, and make minor repairs, but if anything goes too far wrong we just shut her down and rely on the sails and Mannan's good will." Neither the engineer nor his two offsiders seemed to mind Emmaline's daily visits over the past week to see the engine and all three men seemed to find plenty of time to show her around. Emmaline nodded and straightened brushing coal dust from her cheeks.
"So that's what the gauges do? Measure the pressure in the chambers?" she asked. Makem nodded and opened his mouth but before he could speak a shout came from deck.
"Sail ho!"
"I have to admit that some of it is a bit too complicated for me," Makem admitted, wiping the sweat and cold dust from his face with a filthy handkerchief.
"The Dwarves have arts of engineering that we know nothing off," the man went on, sounding equal parts sour and impressed. He punctuated the remark but patting the chugging machine happily.
"I can keep it running, and make minor repairs, but if anything goes too far wrong we just shut her down and rely on the sails and Mannan's good will." Neither the engineer nor his two offsiders seemed to mind Emmaline's daily visits over the past week to see the engine and all three men seemed to find plenty of time to show her around. Emmaline nodded and straightened brushing coal dust from her cheeks.
"So that's what the gauges do? Measure the pressure in the chambers?" she asked. Makem nodded and opened his mouth but before he could speak a shout came from deck.
"Sail ho!"
-216
+Events of Tavern at the End of the World+
Emmaline awoke as golden light crept in through the window. She stirred lazily for a moment, reaching over to feel Amal's warm form beside her. With a sudden shock she sat bolt upright and the motion caused Amal to roll out of bed grabbing for his pants in the same motion his hand came up with his sword.
"Scheisse, it's already dawn," Emmaline cursed. Amal looked at her in concern for a moment before realization dawned in his eyes and he lurched upright pulling on his trousers and gathering up their few possessions with his other hand.
"By Allah, they ship will be leaving!" They pulled on their clothes as hastily as they could and ran for the door, Emmaline still buttoning her shirt as they rushed down the stairs. The taproom was nearly empty save for the bartender who started awake as they thumped down to the ground floor. A few men lay passed out at tables and booths, but all were to heavily drunken to do more than snort and snuffle.
"I trust my establishment," the bartender began but shut up as Emmaline hurled a handful of small coins at him as she fled out the door following Amal, they burst on to the sleepy street and raced downhill towards the sea. Sure enough the Destrier which had been slated to sail at down was in the process of setting her sails to carry her out with the morning tide. Amal shouldered his way past a long shoreman as they pounded passed the stevedores who were just beginning the task of loading cargo onto another large brig ignoring their startled shouts, jibes, and in the case of Emmaline who still hadn't managed to fully button her shirt, marriage proposals.
By the time they reached the edge of the dock there was already six feet of clearence between the bulwark of the ship and the dock. Amal made a flying leap and caught a hold of the bulwark with one hand. Emmaline was far less sanguine about her chances but leaped also, golden hair flying like a banner as she sailed across the gulf towards the ship. Amal caught her hand a fraction of a second before she planted her face into the hull and fell into the harbor and a minute later they were hauled onto the deck by grinning sailors, apparently very amused at the last moment arrival.
"I'm sorry friend," the Captain said with a jovial look at the pair of them, "I waited as long as I could!"
Emmaline awoke as golden light crept in through the window. She stirred lazily for a moment, reaching over to feel Amal's warm form beside her. With a sudden shock she sat bolt upright and the motion caused Amal to roll out of bed grabbing for his pants in the same motion his hand came up with his sword.
"Scheisse, it's already dawn," Emmaline cursed. Amal looked at her in concern for a moment before realization dawned in his eyes and he lurched upright pulling on his trousers and gathering up their few possessions with his other hand.
"By Allah, they ship will be leaving!" They pulled on their clothes as hastily as they could and ran for the door, Emmaline still buttoning her shirt as they rushed down the stairs. The taproom was nearly empty save for the bartender who started awake as they thumped down to the ground floor. A few men lay passed out at tables and booths, but all were to heavily drunken to do more than snort and snuffle.
"I trust my establishment," the bartender began but shut up as Emmaline hurled a handful of small coins at him as she fled out the door following Amal, they burst on to the sleepy street and raced downhill towards the sea. Sure enough the Destrier which had been slated to sail at down was in the process of setting her sails to carry her out with the morning tide. Amal shouldered his way past a long shoreman as they pounded passed the stevedores who were just beginning the task of loading cargo onto another large brig ignoring their startled shouts, jibes, and in the case of Emmaline who still hadn't managed to fully button her shirt, marriage proposals.
By the time they reached the edge of the dock there was already six feet of clearence between the bulwark of the ship and the dock. Amal made a flying leap and caught a hold of the bulwark with one hand. Emmaline was far less sanguine about her chances but leaped also, golden hair flying like a banner as she sailed across the gulf towards the ship. Amal caught her hand a fraction of a second before she planted her face into the hull and fell into the harbor and a minute later they were hauled onto the deck by grinning sailors, apparently very amused at the last moment arrival.
"I'm sorry friend," the Captain said with a jovial look at the pair of them, "I waited as long as I could!"
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