|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 27, 2015 19:02:29 GMT -5
The kiss goes on for what feels like forever, but at the same time you disengage too soon. Mac looks down into your eyes, and smiles warmly, "Sorry, what were you saying before I so rudely interrupted?" He grabs up the bottle in one hand, and his mug in the other and heads over to the bed. Lounging with his back against the headboard, he pats the bed beside him, "Care to join me for a drink?" He smiles again, and empties he rest of his first mug. Once you've joined him, he refills both mugs once more.
Then he surprises you by beginning to sing. He starts slowly at first, gauging your reaction. Though you've heard better, but he's not bad. He tells a story with his song. A story about a boy who joined the navy too young, before he should have to be sure. He saw more of the world than he otherwise would have. This boy grew into a man while riding the waves, his only father figure was his captain. His brothers were his ship mates. Then one day his captain was killed in a mutiny by his brothers, and the man became disillusioned with the world. He gives up on life, and drinks too much, fights to much, mixes with the wrong sort of people. Although he left his brothers because of what they did to his captain, he never forgave them. He eventually became a pirate. His song gathered strength as he got lost in the telling, but it softened near the end, finishing at almost a whisper.
Mac looks over to you, the emotion of the song plain on his face. Then he smiles, and takes a swig of his rum.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jun 27, 2015 19:57:23 GMT -5
As Tsunami feels your fingers loosen in her hair, she ends the kiss both partially horrified by her actions, and not wanting to waste a second before doing it again. He smiles down at her and the feeling of horror leaves her. Her hand falls away from him as he turns away from her to retrieve his mug and bottle of rum. She looks down to regard the tankard of rum she is still holding. The room temperature liquid ripples slightly as the hand holding it trembles. She begins to knock back the sweet sweet liquor, when she slows her draught, remembering his request that she pace herself with this one. He passes her and lounges on the bed, inviting her to sit and drink with him. She half-reclines beside him, conscious of the light ticklish feeling of his arm hair brushing her forearm. She feels like giggling, but would rather die. She is now pretty drunk, and as he fills her cup over his lap, she remarks that his britches seem to be slightly more snug than they had been before. She is quickly distracted though when he starts to sing a haunting song about a boy at sea. When he is done, he smiles at her, but there is pain behind that smile and he seems to need the swig from his mug. She wonders if it would be too forward of her to ask private questions about his life, but seeing as how his tongue was just down her throat and she's ready to go picking out her very own brigantine with him, she figures that she's entitled.
"Is that about you? Your story?"
She waits for his answer and takes another slow swallow of rum...she has to keep up after all. He answers in the affirmative, and she feels that she understands him. She lays a gentle hand on his cheek and turns his head, forcing him to look at her. The magnetic draw for her to kiss him again seems unbearable, but instead, as her lips draw nearer, they pass by his cheek to whisper earnestly in his ear.
"If a crew ever mutinied and killed my dad, I would hunt down every last one of the scurvy dogs and burry them deep in Davey Jones' locker. I would be remiss if I didn't help you to do the same, if'n that's where the wind takes you. If you don't wish to outright kill your brothers, which I can understand, there is always a good keelhaulin' or a walk 'o the plank after which Osprem herself can decide their fates."
With this, she pulls back and he can see in her eyes that she is deadly serious. She might be slim, but she is also well muscled for a girl, and her sheer determination lets him know that she'd indeed be capable of carrying out the sentences she's suggested. She attempts to add a little revelry to the serious discussion by taking another swig of her rum and by putting a tune to her thoughts. She too begins to sing, perhaps a little more heartily than she might have intended if stone sober.
"Weigh heigh and up she rises Weigh heigh and up she rises Weigh heigh and up she rises Ear-lie in the mornin'
What shall we do with a drunken sailor, What shall we do with a drunken sailor, What shall we do with a drunken sailor, Ear-lai in the mornin'..."
You can tell by her facial expression while she comes to the end of the chorus that she expects you to fill in the first punishment as she sings. With perfect timing for you to sing the next line, she breaks off and takes another drink. She has a slight slur to her voice and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. As the two of you sing about the various ways to straighten out a drunken scallywag, you are aware that consciously or not, Tsunami has come to sit very close to you indeed, and you notice her beginning to gasp as the stays start winding her from singing with such gusto. It is obvious that she needs to lie flat, or have the stays removed. You know from any past encounters with women, that they do not sleep in their day clothes, but to remove any of her layers outright would be considered to be undressing her to the point of indecency, which she may or may not be prepared for.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 28, 2015 13:23:35 GMT -5
You can tell that your suggestions about his brothers are nothing he hasn't himself thought of before. A look of melancholy crosses his features, and he looks down into his rum for answers. When you start to sing, he lifts his head and the sadness in his eyes begins to fade. By the time he has to jump in, his smile has returned and he joins into your song with extra enthusiasm as if to make up for his prior retrospectiveness. He even comes up with a few verses you had not heard before, and you thought your Dads had thought of every way to punish a drunken sailor. Maybe he had thought too long about various ways to punish his brothers.
As the song comes to it's natural conclusion, this time because Mac blanked on coming up with an effective punishment, the pair of you laugh heartily. "I can see that your corset isn't comfortable, so I do propose three solutions. The first is that you take it off. The second is you keep it on, but lay down so you can breath. The third is you change into one of my shirts, which would keep you covered while being comfortable." He hesitates for a moment, weighing something in his mind, and then smiles his wolfish grin, "I just thought of a fourth, I could help you take it off." Then he winks. While he has been talking, he has slowly been moving closer to you, and you come to realize that your faces are close enough together now that you can feel the heat of his breath, and his eyes fill your whole vision.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jun 28, 2015 18:18:00 GMT -5
Tsunami is finding it hard to concentrate, so intoxicated is she by the rum and the smell of you. She is so out of breath by now, that there is no choice. She requires air immediately. No matter how good his offers sound, taking the time to undo the stays will take several precious minutes that she doesn't have. so she lays back, but not before capturing the back of your neck with her hand to keep you close to her. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't drink, but by Osprem, she was going to continue trying to get drunk by the sheer amount of rum on your breath. Once she is prone, breathing becomes a sight easier, though she is still gasping and you would be aware that part of her bosom fairly bursts out the top of her stays with each attempted breath. At least this was better, at least she could think. Also, she couldn't fall over and make a fool out of herself when she was lying down, which meant that even though she was dizzy, once this blasted thing was off she could drink some more. Always an up side, thar was. Baby clothes were not a common thing found on any ship, let alone one filled with marauding pirates. Therefore, Tsunami had grown up wearing whatever could be found around the Sea’s Song. Once she got older, around ten years old, they had taken a ship bound for Clifton which had been carrying among the other treasures, a chest of clothes for a rich man's mistress. Though still a little big, the garments had been given straight to her as her part of the take. She had been disappointed by the chest, mourning the fact that it wasn't the gold that the crew really sought, until she removed with the gowns a stunning broach made of rubies. It just didn't suit her while wearing the men's shirts and britches she had been accustomed to, so she did something that any normal landlubber child would have done. She played dress-up. While wearing the stylish garments and sparkling rubies, she had felt like royalty. She went up on deck to show her mom and dads, they had all exclaimed over how she looked like a princess to be sure. That was the beginning of her enjoyment of the finer things. She still preferred a shirt and britches for taking another ship (you try to climb the rigging or swing on a rope without becoming shark bait while wearing a stays and multiple petticoats!), but as she had grown into the clothes, she really did treasure them, and often wore them when in calm waters with no sign of another ship on the horizon. Laying on the bed, impressed with you as she is, she begins to weigh her options. She was perfectly comfortable in a man’s shirt, however, that had been before she cared if anyone saw her. She had never looked twice at a man before, but by Osprem, she found herself actually caring what you think of her. She also thought of her dads, and knew how they would feel if she suggested removing her clothing in front of anyone. Despite the fact that everyone on the Sea’s Song had been family, when it had come time for her to change, the area below deck which served as their sleeping quarters always suddenly became empty of other crewmen. It was like an unspoken rule on the ship. She is a little worried that you are going to kiss her again and once again render her a head spinning jackanapse, ready to agree to almost anything. (And really, would that be so bad?) But before that happened, she was going to do her dads proud. She slowly runs her fingertips up the tightly tied cords of her stays until she reaches one of the loose ends near the bow it has been tied into. You watch this slow and sultry procession until she begins to deliberately tug at the cord and the knot begins to slip a little. You note that your britches are becoming slightly uncomfortable again. She licks her lips so they glisten in the candle light. Her bosom still heaves with every breath that now comes a little more easily, and she tilts her head so her lips are on the verge of brushing against yours. “I won’t settle for less than a sloop or a schooner, and it must be blue,” she confides in you. That settled, she again tugs on the chord to the point where the bow is about to pop. Breaking of Tsunami (NSFW)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 28, 2015 19:01:16 GMT -5
Unsure what to do to help you breath easier, aside from tear your corset off your heaving body, Mac waits for you to regain some of your composure. A mixture of excitement, hunger and concern play out across his features. Excited because he has a beautiful woman heavy breathing in his bed, and hungry to do more than just drink with said woman. His excitement and hunger are both tempered by your attempted breaths. He has only dealt with the inability to breath once, and in that he was trapped in a sunken ship that was torn to pieces on a shoal. The air kept getting thinner and thinner, and Mac couldn't breath well. Eventually his brothers managed to dislodge the debris that was trapping Mac inside, and he swam free, but it was still quite scary.
Your worries are warranted, as the moment your breathing comes under control Mac leans in and kiss you again. Just as soundly as before, but for a much shorter duration. Pulling back, he says, "I'm glad your breathing is getting better," a little breathlessly himself. Then you see his eyes drift down to your trailing fingers as they skip over each crisscrossed cord of your corset. As your fingertips clasp the loose end, you feel his hand move from your stomach to tighten on your waist again, pulling you slightly closer. Only slightly because now the full length of your body is pressed to his. He now lays on his side with his arm across you, and his head propped up on his hand.
“I won’t settle for less than a sloop or a schooner, and it must be blue,” she confides, 'What is she talking about?' Mac thinks before all thought is lost to one tiny little knot. Somewhere in the recesses of Mac's mind he knows that once that knot pops open, she will still be covered, but that the tension will be off of her lungs so she can breath. That knot will release another form of tension as well however, and in his current state of mind that second tension is the more pressing
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jun 28, 2015 20:25:50 GMT -5
With tension pulling the cord tight between the knot and her fingers, and your full length pressing against her, her head swims with the anicipation of your next kiss. She is glad that you are a sailor, because she now thinks that she could give up your kisses no more than she could give up a life at sea. What a fine thing this would be, to have this, but with the waves rocking under her.
"So what's it to be?" she asks as she takes command, this time kissing you and drinking you in. As you pull her up to meet you, you feel her hand between you give that last little tug, abolishing the knot. Her chest heaves slightly more freely now but the deeper breaths she pulls in are only enough to loosen the lacing to the second eyelet. The rest is still tight and will remain so until the work necessary is done to unlace the garment in earnest. Her hand drops the cord and she timidly reaches around you, trailing her fingertips along the naked lines of the muscles on your back. She pulls out of the kiss and continues, speaking so closely to you that you feel the heat of every breath, and feel her moist lips brushing yours as she speaks. You're not sure, but you think you might feel the tip of her tongue on the odd word as well.
"Brigantines are nice, but they're so large that they're so much more work, we'd need a larger crew. Then again, one can hold a lot more treasure than a sloop. Of course the advantage of sloops and schooners are that they afford you the cover of shallow waters, an escape from the Sommerset Naval vessels to be sure. They can see you," you hear a gleeful tone enter her voice, "but they still can't get their blundering mits on you."
Inside, it is taking all of Tsunami's considerably drunk concentration to remain on the topic of boats. She feels a tingling sensation in some rather awkward places, and it is driving her mad. Like an itch that begs to be scratched. Involuntarily, as she kisses you, she feels her hips pressing into you and is shocked by her boldness. On the sea is one thing, but she feels like her namesake, ready to crash over at any second. She is confused because she wants you, but never having been touched before, she doesn't know what that entails. All she knows is that so far, everything you have offered up to her just keeps getting better and better and she doesn't want it to stop. She feels that in you, she has found a secret map, one with twists and turns and undiscovered territory. She's anxious to follow the trail and dig deep to get to the best part; hauling out the treasure chest and opening it for the first time to see what's inside.
"So which is to be mine?" her excitement is running wild, and she realizes she can't wait to find out where your taste for vessels lie, she wants to know everything about you, inside and out. "My dads would have you locked up in the brig for laying even a single finger on me without the promise of a ship, so let's have it matey, so I can relieve myself of this restriction." As she says the last word, she smiles and her eyes drop to her stays.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 29, 2015 16:58:16 GMT -5
"So what's it to be?" she asks, the question somehow demanding an answer. Mac begins to ask what's what to be? but you cut him off with your kiss before he can begin. 'All this talk of boats. What is she going on about?' While you're talking about boats, Mac trails a line of small kisses down your jawline to your neck. The kisses continue until about halfway down when you feel a sharp, but playful bite, followed immediately by a long warm kiss. Leaving your neck Mac returns to your lips, sharing more kisses with you until you press your hips into him. His gathers your hair in a fist again, and turns your head to the side, exposing the other side of your neck. "You're driving me crazy." He murmurs before kissing your neck passionately. "If you want a ship lass, we can get you a ship. Whatever ship suits your fancy. Just don't go expecting it tomorrow. My business has just begun, but it will take me..." He pauses as you bite his lip, then he licks his lip and smiles, "It will take us all the way to High Quarter. Does that alleviate your restriction?" As you drop your eyes to your stays you're surprised to find that the first four eyelets on both sides are empty, and all but the last two are already loose. Mac's nimble fingers are already loosening the second last ones as you watch.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jun 29, 2015 17:34:26 GMT -5
Tsunami looks down, and is surprised to see her stays is almost completely undone. Your kisses have distracted her indeed, but her dads would be proud that she has secured her own vessel...almost. She has grown up with pirates, and is no stranger to a man hornswaggling another to get what he wants. The world is full of cheats and liars, you just had to bluff longer than the other guy, and put oar to wave before the whole deal goes south. She starts to wonder if you are a plain dealer or not, and realizes it just doesn't matter. Either way, she wasn't born yesterday.
Now that her stays is opened, she feels a tug at her waist and realizes that you have already begun to work on her petticoat. Well, he works fast! she admits to herself, impressed at your ambition. Now that her stays is off, (it has somehow joined your shirt on the floor), she can breathe easy. She also feels completely exposed. No one has ever seen her in this state before. She is a tad bemused that she has this effect on you, though truth be told, you have unleashed something in her more wild than the sea.
She scoots out from under you, making an excuse about her fine stays being tossed aside where it will become dirty from the floor that your boots have been trodding on. She slides toward the edge of the bed, but this only causes her last garment to slide up, giving you a wonderful and completely indecent view of her long legs. She stands quickly, a little too quickly, and becomes dizzy as her shift falls back into place around her legs. She takes a few staggering steps over to her stays, but instead lifts your shirt and quickly slides it on over her head and shift together. It falls to halfway between her hips and knees, and she realizes that she probably looks rediculous. She doesn't care, she has won, and well, the smell of you coming off your shirt fills her senses and gives her a reason to breathe deeply and calm herself down. She inhales you happily breath by breath.
She regards you on the bed, a welcome sight to be sure, and she almost returns immediately. She seems to make a decision and begins to lace up the front of your shirt. As her arms move, the candle light behind her shines through the thin material, and you get a good long look at the silhouette of her curves underneath that are just begging to have your hands caress them.
If you start to object about her leaving you hanging, she responds by reminding you that you yourself said everything would take time.
"Don't worry, she assures you, I won't leave your side until you have the chance to make good on our bargain."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 29, 2015 20:09:50 GMT -5
"For tonight, let's hold you to that." he says as he crawls across the bed toward you. A hand, quick as a viper darts out and catches hold of your wrist. He pulls you gently back to the bed beside him, laying you out beside him. He lays on his back with his head pillowed on one arm. His other arm is tucked under your neck, and wrapped around your body. His finger tips occasionally brushing the fabric of his shirt above your breast when he moves or breaths too deeply. "Tomorrow I have to attend to the business I was dealing when I met you. The job will take two days at most, and I will return to you here when the job is finished." You raise your head from his chest to object, and he kisses you. "Please Lass, don't argue with me on this. I have a second bargain for you. After this job, I will introduce you to my contacts when I take new work, then you can be a part of it." He looks at you squinting, when you agree, "That was too easy. Let me add, that if you were to follow me and they found you..." He trails off, but continues, "They would kill us both." He then lays back and says, "Let's play a game." He smiles across at you, "We take turns asking each other questions, get to know each other a little better..." The questions go on and on into the night, and at some point you both drift off to sleep.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jun 29, 2015 20:38:39 GMT -5
When your hand snakes out and traps her wrist, and you use it to guide her back to the bed, she thinks Shiver me timbers, now I'm in trouble. However, for the most part you're a gentleman, and bit by bit she becomes more relaxed as you lay together. When you bring up leaving her for two days, she begins to assume that this is your out, that you've found a convenient way to dismiss yourself in the morning, never to return. She wonders if you've got a ship standing by, and if she'll be able to find another to take her back to the sea. She figures that she has two days to look, one way or another. Saddened that she has made a connection that might on the next morn be broken, a connection that felt real, that has in the least taken her mind off of the fate of her family, she plays your game into the night. Comforted by your presence, but plagued with dreams of her family and your leaving, she spends a fitful night beside you, often flopping over like a fish out of water.
In the wee hours of the morning, the sound of drunken voices and heavy footfalls clumping past your room wakes her. She is reassured that you're with her and drifts back to sleep. Finally, with the sun streaming in through the window the next day, she awakens. She is exhausted, her head pounds like a dwarven drum echoing through the caverns of a mine, and you are nowhere to be seen.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 30, 2015 18:04:45 GMT -5
On the bedside table there are two cups of water, and a steaming mug of that same brown liquid, and a note that says "Drink us." Raising an eyebrow you look around, and find a tray on the footlocker, and another note that says, "Eat this." Lastly, you see a note stuck to the door with a fancy dagger, "I will return Lass. Ifin I don't, let this blade make it right." You note that his room is exactly the same as it was last night. His belongings are still in place, so you guess even if he was lying in the notes he would at least come back for his stuff.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jun 30, 2015 18:40:21 GMT -5
Tsunami drags herself as far as the other side of the bed, close enough to reach the water and vial brown fluid. Her stomach feels like the rolling waves of the sea, and the pulsing beating of the drum in her head seems to push outward with the rhythm of her heart. She lifts her head from the pillow long enough to read the note by the drinks, and the pressure in her head grows, as if it's being squeezed by the infernal tentacles of a kraken. She's used to being drunk, and even waking drunk, so she follows her instincts, looking to stave off the pain and sickness. She looks for the rum bottle, but dismisses it when she finds it empty on the floor next to the two black jacks. She once again regards the two glasses of water, but thinks that the cold might stab at her gut and cause everything to come back up. She chokes down some of the brown liquid, very gingerly. Her stomach protests, but everything stays put at least for the moment. Her mouth feels thick and tastes like a swamp. The brown liquid seems to be helping with the taste, but she realizes there is no saliva in her mouth, and grudgingly tastes the water. Her stomach clenches on her, and she drops an arm to the floor, emphatically searching by feel for the chamber pot. She finds it and hauls it out. It sloshes, and the fresh smell that is released is the last assault her tender tummy will allow for.
When she is finished, and can find the courage to once again make an attempt to sit up, she takes a few swallows of water and rinses her mouth. She forces herself out of bed and stumbles to the wash basin, splashing water on her face and towling it off. She gets a flashback of you the night before, and she is almost able to smile. She groans and hobbles over to the window to let some fresh air in. Then she notices the bread, bacon, and cackle fruit awaiting her on the foot locker. She looks at it and the rest of the contents of her assaulted tummy grumble at her. She ignores it and chokes down some bacon and one of the eggs. The grease seems to help her fortitude, and she quickly but carefully gobbles down the rest. She finishes a glass of water, and now feels able to move around the room. She sees your note on the door, and pulls out the fancy dagger to unleash it. She reads it over twice and then turns to regard her clothing on the floor. There is no way she is going to squeeze herself into a stays today. She looks down at herself and realizes that she is still wearing your shirt. She makes her way to your backpack and riffles through it, not to take stock of the contents, only to find a pair of pants. She removes them and pulls them on. They are big on her, but this is nothing she isn't used to. She tucks her shift into them, which helps bulk up her form, making them slightly more fitted. Then, picking up her stays, both your fancy dagger and the one she had hidden in her stays, petticoat, and blackjack, she returns to her own room to complete her dressing ritual. She pulls on her stockings, tying the garders tight, and follows with her boots. She retrieves her own sash from her pack under the floor boards, and adds your dagger to the hiding spot. She slides the scale mail over her head and fastens the belt over it all.
She heads downstairs to the tavern and starts her day again with a mug of rum. It takes the edge off and helps to stop the pain in her thundering head. Then she goes to see what ships are available, where they are headed, and to find any news she can about her family's sentencing. She might peruse the market, and if she feels up to it in the end, she may even head over to the tailor to see about getting a second outfit to wear so she can return your pants.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jun 30, 2015 19:22:58 GMT -5
You walk through the town, maybe not as fluently as Mac did the day prior, but you manage to find your way to the harbour. Dozens of ships are due to arrive and depart at any given time. They're going to every port along the east coast of the Empire, and several of the various Somerset Isles. There is no word about your family's sentencing, but that isn't surprising as most people don't openly speak about the affairs of pirates. When you eventually settle on visiting the market, you find a staggering amount of shops selling finished clothing, tailors and dressmakers that will create new items for you, and then there are the fashion houses.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 1, 2015 5:42:33 GMT -5
After the first day spent wandering around the town, Tsunami returned to her the tavern and later her room anything but empty-handed and with a plan for the next day. There had been things for sale in the marketplace that she had sorely missed on the ship, and other things - exotic fruits and other foods that she had not tried before. Lemon and lime juice had often been added to the grog aboard the ship, but other fruits had been overlooked in favour of those. She now sat in that tavern at a table and ordered her meal. She lay out some of the fruits she had aquired, and asked the serving girl what they were. When her meal came, she used her knife to one by one, cut a slice off of each to try.
After eating, she retired to her room for the night. She pulled out her backpack from it's hiding spot, and unfolded her medical kit. She added some things she had found in the market to it, and returned it to it's hiding spot. On the morrow, she would go to see what all the fuss was about at one of the fashion houses. If prices were too high, she would go to see a tailor. She wanted a shirt and britches that fit her, and a second womanly outfit to boot.
She was exhausted by the end of her long day, and used her washing water to clean your pants, before setting them by the window to dry. She removed her shift and your shirt, and donned your shirt once again, wanting to smell you as she slept. Then she climbed into bed and waited for sleep to take her.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 1, 2015 11:33:50 GMT -5
You're almost asleep when you hear a sound by your door, a papery scraping sound. When you check it out, someone has slid a sealed folded paper under your door. Checking the hallway, you find it empty. The quiet murmurs of the end of the night conversation drifting up from below. Closing your door you light a candle, crack the seal and read the paper.
"If you want to see your lover alive again. Come alone to 12 Sycamore Street by midnight."
The note is not signed, but the penmanship is flowing, with small cramped letters. The seal you broke was a verticle hand, with the back of the hand showing.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 1, 2015 19:08:31 GMT -5
Tsunami reads the note and is immediately angered. Lover? She knew they must mean Mac, since he is the only man she has spoken with besides the barkeep since arriving here. She understood that meant that they were likely being watched the night before. Watched well enough that they must have known that she spent the night in his room, however not closely enough to know exactly what had gone on. She was relieved about that, however, it was still daunting that they had been watched at all in a potentially private moment.
What had Mac gotten himself into? she wondered as she retrieved her gaff and suited back up in his pants and shirt and her scale mail. She was bewildered as to what they thought she could do for them, why they would summon her at all, and how she could rescue him. The fact that she would rescue him wasn't even in question, her ship was at stake after all. Her mind wandered momentarily as she thought of him, the sight of him by the washstand, his scent, being enfolded in his arms. She came out of it, closed the curtains, and placed the candle on the windowsill to blind any watchers that were trying to spy on her. They wouldn't be able to use her shadow or lightsource to see what she was doing as she opened up her hidey hole in the floor. She decided to leave his dagger hidden away, but took various pouches and her whalebone needle from her healing kit. She replaced everything under the floorboard, and tucked the letter into her belt. She grabbed her sac of new fruits and slung it over her shoulder. She extinguished the candle and returned to the tavern downstairs, asking the bartender where she could find Sycamore Street. She bought another bottle of fine rum, paying extra if she has to to obtain it, and orders another bath be sent to her room. She knows that the weight of the filled tub will keep her things extra secure, as the only place to put it is squarely over her hiding spot, jsut in case the scurvy dogs attempt to break into her room. She takes a drink to steady her nerves and heads out the door.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 2, 2015 15:41:31 GMT -5
Old Borris gives you directions to Sycamore Street. It turns out that it's across the river in the warehouse district. "Be careful if you're going down that way, the merchants use private guards to protect their properties. Some of them are..." He hesitates, "... less than friendly." When you ask for a fine bottle of rum, he produces a bottle of High Dive on the Rocks, distilled right here in Clifton. "This bottle is ten gold phoenixes, but worth every penny."
Once you're out on the town you make your way west down toward the river. You make your way to one of a half dozen ferry docks for the crossing to the lower district. The ferryman takes a copper penny for his services, and welcomes you aboard his vessel. The trip across the river is uneventful, but it is nice to be back in a boat again, even if it's just a flat bottomed passenger barge. The sun begins to set as you disembark on the western bank of the river.
Making your way north, you easily find the warehouse district. Once inside you can see what Borris was talking about, buildings with archers stalking along the rooftops. Armed men circle buildings, twice you had to circle wide of a building when the guards took notice of you. Even with those distractions, it only takes an hour to find yourself on Sycamore Street. Oddly none of the buildings on this street are guarded by anyone that you can see. Number 12 is on the right side of the road, and is a massive three story stone rectangle. There are no windows on the ground floor, and all of the windows on the higher floors have bars spaced every four inches or so.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 2, 2015 17:44:25 GMT -5
Tsunami finds a shadowed portion of wall and takes a few seconds to open the bottle of rum, takes a swig, and pours a small amount into her hand. She stows the bottle, slaps her hands together, and spreads the rum all over her neck and shoulders so she reaks like a slobbering drunk. She continues on to the nearest door, stumbling and swaying on purpose. She approaches it, singing loudly. She bangs drunkenly on the door, as she sings.
(To the tune of my bonnie lies over the ocean) Me bonnie lies thar in the warehouse, Me bonnie lies thar, let 'im be, Me bonnie lies thar in the warehouse, Oh bring back me bonnie to me.
Bring back, bring back, oh bring back me bonnie to me ,to me Bring back, bring back, of bring back me bonnie to me!
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 2, 2015 19:42:29 GMT -5
The door you're banging on opens after about a minute or so, and a fellow wearing a gray hooded cloak that hides his features gestures toward a hallway. "Welcome Mistress Tsunami, this way please." He pivots, and walks ahead of you down the hall. You pass several closed doors on the left and right before the hall dead ends ahead, but the fellow stops adjacent to one of the doors on the left. "In here if you please Mistress Tsunami." He turns the knob, and pushes the door open for you, and says, "Please take a seat in the chair provided."
The room before you is dark, with a small pool of light from a tallow lamp on a stand illuminating a chair. A span of twenty feet of pitch blackness splits the light from the tallow lamp, and the lamps that provided the light in the hall you're just leaving. Once you move toward the chair, the fellow in the gray hooded cloak shuts the door behind you, and you hear an audible click as he locks it. Your footfalls echo off distant walls, it seems that most of this warehouse is all one gigantic room.
The fellow in the gray cloak ignores any questions directed at him, simply repeating his last instruction and gesturing where he would like you to go. He doesn't seem to notice, or care that your staggering drunk. If you dally too long he reminds you that you are on a time limit, but otherwise makes no threats or hostile movements of any kind. You think you hear the faint rustle of chains somewhere above, and in front of where the provided chair is facing.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 2, 2015 20:02:22 GMT -5
Tsunami is instantly on guard as the cloaked man said her name, something which she had never bothered mentioning to Mac. How do they know my name? Only my parents would know that, she reasoned. Once she was in the darkened room, she stumbled in the direction that the snick sound had come from, to try the doorknob. If it doesn't budge, she staggers to the candle, and picks it up. She walks around, surveying her surroundings. She didn't like this one bit. She wanted nothing more than to get Mac and get out.
Spot Check: 16+ 4(wis) = 20
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 3, 2015 8:10:41 GMT -5
When you reach the chair with the tallow lamp, a voice from above, and in front of the chair calls out, "Sit down Mistress Tsunami." This time you distinctly hear the sound of chains rattling, an the pulling sound of a rope held taut coming from near where the voice had spoken. Nothing else happens until you sit down, if you wander the voice above reminds you calmly that you're on a time limit. Once seated, the voice begins again, "Your companion Mac was hired to collect something for us, but he failed. Now you will collect something for us, and you will not fail." Abruptly your eyes are bombarded with bright light, and you turn away blinking to clear the spots of colour that swim in your vision. Once you manage to see, you notice that the room is well lit by twin bullseye lanterns. The room itself is a giant rectangle, with large loading doors along the one long wall. There is a balcony around the second story, and a few catwalks that cross the room at that level as well. Standing motionless upon those catwalks are a dozen men wearing the same hooded gray cloak that the man that led you here was wearing. They all hold light crossbows. You forget all about the armed men when you squint and look toward the speaker, a tall man by his silhouette. He stands between the two lanterns, back lit so you can't make out his features at all. Even he is forgotten when you see what is hanging twenty feet in front of him. Mac, shackled at wrists and ankles, gagged, and hanging upside down by a rope held by two gray cloaked men. He is suspended twenty five feet above the ground. He has a black eye, and his face is red from being upside down, but otherwise seems hale and healthy. He looks at you with concern, an apology in his eyes.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 3, 2015 17:03:09 GMT -5
As the cloaked men once again reminded her that she was under a time constraint, She replied by pointing out that she had met that time constraint at least fifteen minutes before. She had only been instructed to be at 12 Sycamore street by midnight, which she had been. Anything that wasn't to their satisfaction after that was purely due to their warped sense of entitlement. Staring up at Mac, she once again noted that landlubbers were so strange. Why make a human pinata out of a man? It made no sense.
When they informed her that Mac was supposed to have gotten them something and he had failed, and that now they expected her do attempt the same, she had a few questions for them: "Why is he hanging from the ceiling? Who are you? What is it he was supposed to have gotten? Where is it located? And most importantly, What's in it for me?"
If they give her some fodder about his life being in the balance and only I can save him, I'll remind them that that's what's in it for him, but again, what's in it for me? I'd consider doing it for them in exchange for his freedom and whatever terms they had originally agreed upon. I may also require safe passage for the two of us on a ship together back out to sea.
Also, I'll let them know that if they expect me to do it mearly for the sake of his life, then they should understand that we are a team, and I'm not even going to attempt it without him by my side. If he couldn't do it alone, well then, perhaps the two of us could pull it off together.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 3, 2015 21:33:32 GMT -5
The silhouetted man chuckles, "I see why you like this one Mac." He shifts his position so he can lean on the balustrade, "He hangs from the ceiling because it is dramatic, and because if you attempted to attack we just have to let go of the rope and he dies." The man cracks his neck audibly, even from so far away, "You ask a lot of questions." His face is briefly illuminated by the embers in his pipe as he takes a pull, he seems familiar, but you can't place him. "Who we are is none of your concern. What matters now is that you follow instructions." A man in a gray hooded cloak appears at your side holding out a package. Once you take it he moves away a short distance, and stops, waiting. "All you need to know about the job is in that package, look through it when you return to the Wayfarer's Rest." The man stands up, and begins to walk away when you call up to ask about what's in it for you, "Aside from his life? If you succeed where he failed you can have his payment. Depending on how you perform on the job, it could also be your gateway to join us." He walks away then, calling down, "He was seen, he is fulfilling his only remaining use on this job now. He will be released unharmed when we get what he was supposed to get." The lanterns are snuffed out, and the fellow off to the side crosses through the light of the tallow lamp beside you, "This way Mistress Tsunami." He leads you out of the building, backtracking the path that you took to arrive. Once outside he says, "Be careful Mistress, these streets are not too safe for a woman alone at night." He sounds genuine, even if he was just party to hanging a man from the ceiling.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 4, 2015 6:45:39 GMT -5
Before they show her out, she looks up at Mac, dangling helplessly from the ceiling. Her heart bleeds for his black eye and she prays to Osprem that he doesn't have any other lasting injuries that she is unable to see at this distance or that might be covered by his clothes. She looks to the man that is clearly in charge. She raises her chin and hardens her voice. "This man owes me a ship, a blue sloop, to be exact. You had better not harm him in my absense. I rather do enjoy his pretty face, and if you render him in such a way that he cannot come through for me, you should expect to grant me the same ship that you would have taken from me.
She waits for his response and then follows the other cloaked man out. Tsunami turns to the hooded man that has commented on her safety. She raises an eyebrow.
"Then perhaps you should return my shaperone to ensure that I can get back to the inn safely and can perform this...(she raises and gently squeezes the envelope) task for you."
Whether Mac is returned to her or not, she returns to the inn, and beds down for the last few hours before light will wake her. She will not give the cloaked strangers the satisfaction of tearing into it blindly like a love-struck child, whether she feels like one or not. In the morning, she will order breakfast to her room, and by the time it comes, the suspense is almost killing her. Still, she waits until food is in front of her so she can open the envelope and can formulate a plan on how to proceed with a clear head.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 4, 2015 8:31:02 GMT -5
"Do well, and join us. We can provide the means for a dozen ships..." Then he laughs, a deep throaty laugh.
The cloaked man shakes his head, "Good evening then." Then he gently shuts the door.
You wake in the morning, the slightest light creeps through the window. The pitter patter of rain on the glass means that the day outside matches your mood. Your breakfast arrives, and even though it smells and tastes delicious, you are unaware. The envelope feels heavy in your hand. Opening it, you spread out the contents across your bed. Detailed sketches of a heraldic seal, the golden sun of Pelor. Sketches of the layout of the Pelorian Light Shrine, not just the public areas but the private areas, sub floors and catacombs. Detailed lists, with sketches, of all the staff members, where they live, schedules, and habits. Security measures, and guard patrol routes. Everything you could possibly need to pull a heist at the Pelorian Light Shrine.
There is a letter as well, "A commision of 2,000gp will be paid for the acquisition of the seal, and the release of the prisoner Mac. If you require any supplies, or extra personnel write out what you require, and bring it to our meeting place. -N.B."
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 4, 2015 9:46:04 GMT -5
Looking at all of the carefully planned paperwork, Tsunami's head spins. On the open seas, taking another vessel is simple maneuvering, outsailing the other captain. Here, none of that applies. She slowly chews her breakfast as she looks over all of the floor plans and schedules of all the workers. Perhaps this can be pulled off by simply out-maneuvering them as well. She compares the schedule sheets of the workers on each floor, and thinks she can see a clear path in and out between where their rounds take them, and the changing of security. Still, she wants an insurance policy. She packs away the envelope and when the wench comes to clear away her breakfast tray, she asks to borrow some parchment and something to write with. When it arrives, writes a note asking for a robe or uniform like those worn by security, as well as a replica of the seal she is to steal. As an afterthought, she adds to the letter an amendment to the letter from the envelope, that payment and the release of Mac are to be completed upon the handing over of the goods, and no later. She is aware that there is a potential here for them to simply keep him and string her along for more and more tasks. She doesn't feel good about doing this one, and wants to make certain that it is a one time deal, unless she decides otherwise, and not because of duress.
(She would also ask for any tools that might be necessary to break in and out of locked doors, or barred off areas etc.)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 4, 2015 18:20:49 GMT -5
You fill out your requisition, and look over the gathered paperwork one more time. That's when you realize that two of the guard routes were stuck together. Adding in this new guard path to those you've already plotted, you can no longer find a path that will work with your skill set. Not unless you've found a way to hang from the ceiling, and be invisible that is. There is no path available through stealth alone. You could fight your way through the security staff, but the actual guard would arrive before you got out with the seal. With brute force and stealth not available, you will have to come up with a new plan. Your amendments are added, and before you even leave the warehouse you're given a set of of Pelorian vestments, and a replica of the seal.
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 5, 2015 5:59:19 GMT -5
On the way back from the warehouse, Tsunami walks through the marketplace, and notices a carpenter's stall with an ornate wooden box large enough to hold three of the seals Tsunami is to steal. Upon examining it further, she opens it to reveal a velvety cusioned interior. Perfect, she thinks. She aquires the box and crosses to another stall selling a plethora of wooden holy symbols. She picks out a symbol of Pelor, about the size of the seals. Then she returns back to the inn to go over the plans once more. She wants to make sure she knows the place inside and out, so she can walk around comfortably, knowing where she is headed.
While she waits for her food in her room, she takes time to pray to Osprem to help her bring her mission to fruition and to help her retrieve her...what...love? gentleman caller? suitor? She didn't know, she just knew that this had better end with the two of them reunited, and a ship for her to captian. Over lunch, she pours over the plans. She determines the best time to go in, where security is the most lax in the areas she intends to visit. She stows the vestments in the ornate box along with the wooden holy symbol. The replica seal is slipped into her pocket, tied around her waist under her outer petticoat. She Proceeds downstairs and out the door, slipping between two closely knitted buildings to throw the vestments on over her street clothes.
Once at the temple of Pelor, she walks in, reverently carrying the box in front of her. She proceeds to the holy place where the seals are kept, and waits until no one is around, or is looking. She places two of the golden seals inside the box, on the cushion like they're on display. For the third, she switches out the replica, which goes into the box with the other two golden seals, and the pocket is filled with a legitimate gold seal. She leaves the box as an offering/gift for the temple.
(If stopped and questioned by anyone, she will tell them that that is her intent from the get go, and will show them the impressive box and how it will present the seals in a beautiful way, as they can see by the way the wooden holy symbol sits inside.)
On her way back out of the temple, she will conclude her stay in whatever manner a follower of Pelor would normally conduct themself. Throughout the whole endeavour, she is pleasantly surprised how at peace and relaxed she is in this temple, and considers going to visit a shrine of Osprem if she ever gets Mac back.
(K. Religion check to know the ins and outs of the goings on at a Pelorian temple so she doesn't stick out like a sore thumb: 15+1 = 16) (Stealth (survival) check: 7 + 1 (dex) = 8) (Deception (bluff) Check: 8 + 1 (cha) = 9)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 6, 2015 11:44:29 GMT -5
Now dressed in clerical vestments, you head toward High District. Peasants and nobles alike nod or bow to you. Random people you've never met wish you well on your day. You even get a few "By the grace of Pelor" as you walk. You can feel the fake seal rubbing against you where you tied it, the weight of it pulling awkwardly at times, but not enough to impede you. Unlike when you walk in this district normally, a little bubble of space opens around you while you walk so you don't have to push through the crowds. Entering the High District, the guards at the gate wave you though with only a cursory glance. High District is amazing, each building you pass seems larger than the last, and more ornate. Most seem like palaces beside the buildings you're used to seeing. Fancifully carved stone gargoyles rest upon the rooftops. Statues stand on pedestals, or spit or pour water in the center of massive stone basins. The buildings have carved stone pillars, or elaborate stonework. Lush gardens and well maintained orchards are on the grounds of every estate you pass. It must take legions of servants and gardeners to keep everything so clean and tidy. Even the cobbles below your feet are tightly linked, and nearly flat. It seems like as soon as one guard patrol passes out of sight, another crosses your path from a different direction. The streets themselves are twice the width as the streets below, and they have half as many people. Nobody here has to jostle another to get where they're going. The alleys you pass would be called streets below. Everything screams wealth, and the prices match. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you pass a fancy shop where a dagger cost ten Gold Phoenixs. The prize at the top of the hill in High District is the Pelorian Light Shirine. With it's vaulted golden domes, and towers a dozen stories high it is truly a marvel to behold. The walls surrounding the temple grounds are surrounded by a twenty foot tall wall, pure white, and seemingly made from a single uncut piece of stone. Magic must have been used in the construction of such a wall. Crossing the threshold of the wall, you cross a small courtyard, perhaps fifty feet from wall to the Shrine itself. The lawn is perfectly manicured, the work of those two acolytes crawling around with tiny shears and a bucket. Hedges that look like massive twenty foot high columns are spaced every five feet along both sides of the crumbled stone path that leads up to the double doors into the Light Shrine. The doors themselves are carved intricately, the right door shows a bearded man in golden robes holding a staff topped with glowing sun. The sun on top of the staff actually glows, and when you look closely it seems like it is on fire. The left door has an etching of a walled city on a hill, a river splits the town and divides a massive forest encircled swamp from neatly tended farmland. The work is so good that you recognise the city as Clifton almost immediately, though the artist would have had to have been flying somewhere over the Marshlands to get the perspective shown. Tall stained glass windows depict heroes in armour battling shadowy creatures, or humanoids that look dead with glowing eyes. The double doors stand open, and unguarded. You walk right inside, and immediately stop. This place is awesome in the most literal sense, it actually inspires awe. The most prominent feature in the room is a floating miniature sun, a flaming sphere about ten feet across. It gives the impression of being to bright to look at, while not actually hurting your eyes. It fills the massive chamber with the warm golden light of the dawn. The ceiling is some forty feet overhead, and is a vaulted dome painted with patterns and sun motifs. The walls are lined with statues a dozen feet tall, mostly armoured men bearing the Pelorian holy symbol on their shields and armour. The statues are masterfully done, with features so clear they almost seem alive. Tapestries of battle scenes where the champions of the Light defeat terrible creatures, or hordes of evil creatures are scattered throughout the room. You move through the main chamber after you think, 'I should bring Mac here.' and it reminds you why you've come. You exit the main chamber into a side chapel just as a pair of clerics enter from the other side, then you turn away into an office for a moment as another Cleric passes. Returning to the side chapel to gain access to the stairs in the corner. Once upstairs you cross one of the balconies that overlook the chamber below, passing three more sets of guards with a nod and a smile. This time you manage to ignore the fantasticness below. Crossing into the offices of the full time clergy, you pass another set of guards, one of whom gives you a second glance as he passes, but doesn't stop your progress. Your heart pounds in your chest as you enter into the Lightbringers office where the seal is kept. Crossing the room to the mantle you quickly swap out the seals, your fake one for the real from the mantle. The real one feels heavier tied to your leg than the fake one did. When you turn to the door once again, you're reminded of one of the tapestries from the main chapel, mostly because the hero depicted on the tapestry is crossing the room toward you. You're not sure how long he's been standing there, as when he crosses the lush carpet, his slippered feet make no noise, "My name is Aaron Miller, High Lightbringer of the Pelorian Light Shrine. Why don't you take a seat." He says it casually, but with a note of authority while he gestures to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He circles the desk, and takes a seat in his chair. While you're trying to decide whether to make a run for it or not, the Lightbringer makes a gesture toward the door and the last set of guards you saw step back out of the room, closing the door behind them. Images: High QuarterPelor Door EtchingFloating SunLightbringer Tapestry
|
|
|
Post by Sugarphix on Jul 6, 2015 13:16:43 GMT -5
"By the grace of Pelor," Tsunami greets him and bows her head before taking a seat opposite him. She keeps her head tilted slightly forward so her hood will hide most of her face. She gestures to the box on the mantle. "A gift I wanted to deliver personally. I'm glad you have returned, I didn't want to leave without paying my respects. I can see now that you are just as...impressive as the histories depict."
|
|