[Banister]

.......


It was a warm day outside, a cool summer breeze and the occasional wind splashing sprays of the ocean spray onto the deck and the female's light-brown tufts of hair and coal-gray fur. It was a lovely summer's noon in the bay of Jawan, only a few day's worth of travel from the center of the thrilling expanse of the Re'nee Sea. The coast was covered by a large expanse of light tan sand, water-wheat grass fed by the salt making it's appearance up near the thin strand of dirt that served as a border to the beach. A candle-operated grey and white lighthouse, as old fashioned as it always been, stood as a mirage in the distance, as if waiting for a ferry operator to accidentally become beached among the scuttling crabs, shells, and the great ever-expanding land of sand. There was also an abnormally foreign junk sailor's rig partially beached onto the coastal shore, small waves curling around it's light-coloured hull, the thin yet durable sails folded inwards as to not be caught by the breeze and accidentally cause the medium sized ship to pull back into the bay and into some strange adventure once more. No, it had to wait still, the water housing and war ship hopeful for the chance to ride once more into the surf.

A lanky built woman either in her late teens sat fairly lopsided onto the rim of the hull, perched lazily atop of a very uncharacteristic lion-like figurehead. She had a large bronze stargoyle flapping its lead wings impatiently at her shoulder, unamused by his owner's slow reaction time to his invisible fit. The woman was fairly medium sized, a range between five foot seven to five foot ten, and sported a light-brown splotched pixie cut along with a red and black plaid bikini top and camouflage pants and twine worn twine flip-flops. The female, also adorned with a pair of tan horns curling straight to her cheeks and a shark-tooth strung necklace, had a laid-back look about her face, waiting for someone to show up. Anyone. The village idiot, anyone to help her out with the dirty work of handling the blacklisted trade of common deceit. She hummed a little bit, a tune from her memory popping up randomly now and again and forcing her to softly sing into the noon, fingers clasped with ringing golden bangles on her trouser-clad knees, above a crowned lion that the pair of them knew so well. The breeze suddenly picked up once more, shedding sunlight onto a gleaming insignia carved majestically into the war-scarred junk. This was no ordinary woman and stargoyle partner, of course- these were the remains and founders of the little known crew, namely called "Simian", which happened to be the same word carved in swirling copper characters on the starboard side of the ship. These were no ordinary pirates. No, these were Karthika and Harlem, two partners and crime and growing, rulers of a sinister watery undergrowth of petty thievery and lies that swam their way through the ocean on baroques and sloops alike.

[robopup24]

Aina

The strange looking girl made her way through the crowd, her head down. She was no more than four feet tall, barely noticable by the other humans. Her emerald hair, streaked with white highlights, cascaded behind her in waves. She wore extremely simple clothing, the type a peasent or a slave would wear. Aina's clothes were crudely fashioned of several potato sacks, with patches here and there. Clutched in her slim hands was a harp, her living. The iron collar around her neck was warm from the sunlight, glimmering in the light. Aina lifted her head up as she approached a certain ship, memories running through her head. A ship. Perhaps they would hire her?

The Langerine climbed up the ship, keeping a modest air around her, which wasn't very hard. The only way was to ask...

[GrayGriffin]

Most interesting...a pirate ship. Traunt approached, watching the other girls. Obviously, they were anthro-formed pets, something he could tell from watching. Having none of his qualms about humans, he leapt up gracefully, and began climbing the ladder as well. Craimond, behind him, flapped her wings, and flew into the air, staying next to him.

"Don't look so proud," she whispered. "It might be insulting to whoever is the captain." Traunt glared, but obeyed, relaxing his stance to look more humble. After all, it was his best shot for getting on this crew.

This would be fun.

[1, 1]

[Flame]

The fresh, salty tang of the ocean was strong in the air, buzzing with the wheeling cries of seagulls, the rippling grasses on the shore, and the ebb and flow of the waves as the tide brought crests onto the beach and rocks, crashing and washing about the projecting stones before subsiding again, only to be replaced by yet another. It was a typical sunny midsummer's day, the bright aura from the heavens beating down relentlessly upon the beach, baking the white sands to a warm temperature, the heat emanating in ripples, creating mirages at intervals along the shoreline. A little way down the beach from where the junk was shored, there was an outcropping of craggy rocks, jutting from the beach itself out, perhaps 30 feet, into the ocean, it's outline jagged against the smooth, undulating surface of the sea. It seemed quite a tranquil place for one to dwindle upon, merely to spend time with oneself and the great deep blue, a place for self-awareness and peace.

Unsurprisingly, the rocks were indeed occupied by one lone figure, perched atop the pinnacle of the formation, looking out over the calm ocean. Although the heat caused one's vision to be hazy, the bright light showed that the slim figurine was indeed female, her skin  a dark, well-tanned shade of...black? This was definatly an eccentricity that set the young woman apart from any other creature, yet even more bizarre, on closer inspection, the sight proved that strange, blood-red markings crawled across her ebon frame with esoteric patterns, almost seeming to glow and pulse with some hidden inner energy. She appeared to be in her late teens, or perhaps her early twenties, barefoot and donned only with a black tanktop, gilt with basic, yet in their simplicity, elegant gold patterns, complete with a pair of worn khaki capris. Her hair, as raven-black as her skin, was tied back in a loose, high ponytail, a few stray wisps playing across her visage. Despite her light frame, she was well-built beneath her snug-fitting clothing, her muscles long and lean as opposed to being bulky and heavy. She had the look of one that was accustomed to hard labor, yet managed to maintain some sense of dignity, even during her toils.

One hand shielded white, emotionless eyes as they narrowed against the glare of the sun playing upon the waves, enjoying the warmth that the light brought to her body, the sea breeze whipping her dark hair out behind her. She had been observing the galleon for a while now, her piercing gaze not missing a detail as she slowly began to glean some information on the ship and its crew. Currently, it seemed that it was only composed of one person, undoubtedly the captain, and her shoulder-stargoyle, yet it seemed that the presence of the ship had already begun to draw attention from the creatures nearby, who were now wandering towards the dark hull. For now, Riot would continue to play her waiting game, wanting to know more about the newcomers before making any moves. If she was lucky, the crew would come to her instead.

---

Further inland, yet another had noticed the arrival of the ship. Knowing that every ship needs a crew, and that this might be his last chance to make some profit this year before the winter winds blew in in a few months time, the man, beginning to get on in his years, slid off of the roof of his thatched house, abandoning his vantage point to scurry back inside. If his suspicions were correct, the ship would leave soon, once it had gathered its crew. Grabbing a large ring of keys, he exited his house, and instead, made towards a shed-like building close by. He paused at the door, fingering through the multitude of brass keys before finally locating the correct one, then, in a swift motion, inserted it in the lock, twisting it as the door gave a heavy clunk, bolts withdrawing, and he entered the shed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom as he cast around for what he was searching for. Ah, there. Chained against the cold stone wall, hands and feet cuffed to iron rings set into the stone, was a girl. She was slim, bordering on skinny, fair of skin with a long curtain of silvery-blonde hair covering her face. Her features, delicately carved and regal, were hidden behind her veil of hair, her proud head now hung low with abuse, malnutrition and defeat. A tall, feathery crest sky blue of feathers that ran the length of her spine were just visible from the back of her neck, a tiny pair of fragile, bird-like wings hidden, pressed against the wall. As she heard the man enter though, the anthro-Sky Serraptor looked up, her aquamarine gaze sparking briefly with a fiery spirit at the sight of the master, but before she could utter a sound, he had already slapped her clean across the face, and biting back a cry of pain, she let her head drop again.

"Stupid girl," the man growled, glaring at her for a moment before setting about unlocking her. He wasn't releasing her though, no, there was no way that he was going to let that happen. Instead, he lashed her wrists together behind her, the proceeded to drag her out of the shed, with her stumbling upon long-unused legs after him into the glaring sun. It wasn't long before they had reached the beach, and without a pause, he continued down the shore to where the ship was located. After pinpointing the person whom he believed was the captain of the craft, he dragged the girl on over, coming to an abrupt halt before the woman and her stargoyle.

"Eh lady," he said, his tone rough, "I see yer gatherin' yerself a crew for some voyage, or somethin' of th' like." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "Ye know, yous'll be needin' some deckhands, servants or summat like that, so I'm willin' to strike ye a deal." He yanked sharply on the coarse rope, the fibers chafing painfully at the girl's raw wrists as she was brought to her knees before Karthika. "Twenty gold pieces for the wretch." His eyes glittered with greed at the thought of the money, now fixed upon the captain. "Whaddya say?"

{Whew...finally done x3 By the way, the man is not of importance, so you may do with him what you will ;3}

{1}
{1}

[Rainbowfox Ari]

Human Form

Instead of being met with cash in palm by the woman he was in front of, the slaver would find the correct sum shoved into his hands by a young man behind him, and the rope yanked out of those hands. His feeling of the situation had nothing to do with the fact that he was a physician and surgeon. Jask hated to see people treated that way - even if it was part of trade and commerce for this day and age. He knelt, and started to unbind the girl's wrists, watching the crook he'd shoved his money to with an eagle eye. Sometimes, slavers tried to take back a price to get a higher one. Too bad that was all of Jask's money right there. Everything he owned. But frankly, the cause was well worth the price.

Jask himself was an odd one to look at. His hair was white, but had light teal streaks, those streaks ending in soft yellow tips. His eyes were bi-colored violet and silver, and his visage was a kind one. He didn't appear to be much over 19, if even that, and he seemed to know what he was about, easily untying the knots with a swiftness that was pretty amazing. He was wearing white peasant's clothes, but carried a professional-looking medical pack on his back. He had the medical guild's symbol on a necklace around his neck, and a badge on his sleeve proclaiming him as an outcast from the guild. So he'd left for some reason... even if that wasn't entirely apparent. He didn't seem to be the guild's type. They were usually stuffy, haughty, and full of themselves. If money wasn't involved, the guild didn't generally take on a case. However, this young man had just given up his last few coins to help a complete stranger. He'd been outcast because he had the tendency to do things like this.

He had come here, not to rescue slaves, but to find his father's boat. Among all the ones at the harbor, he'd failed - thus he had been on his way home with his last bit of gold, twenty pieces. Which he'd just given to the slaver. Something in him was telling him that this was the right choice. It was the right move to make. And that he'd never see home again. But with an abusive mother, and a father that cared more about his drink than his only son, Jask could only count this gut intuition as a blessing. He didn't want to go home. Not again. Not to be scolded and dressed down, or beaten and starved again. There were bruises on him from the last time, that had happened. A healing black eye, a hand-shaped bruise on his chest, one on his back. Those were hidden, thankfully. No. If there was any way to get away from that, you bet that Jask would take it in a heartbeat.

Once he had the girl untied, he gave the slaver a savage kick in the family jewels, not really caring one lick that two women happened to be watching. The one the slaver had been trying to sell to, and the ex-slave herself. It had felt... good. Very good indeed as a matter of fact. At the moment, he was basking in that feeling of having done something right. It passed after a couple of minutes, though, and he was back to trying not to look as tired and beat-up as he felt. He spoke to the slave he'd just freed.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I'm a doctor, so if you feel any pain, tell me and I'll take a look..."

He wasn't even paying attention to the fact that he was still dead in front of the woman with the Stargoyle. Right now, this young man's attention was completely focused on the 'wretch' - what a horrid word! - that he'd bought from the slaver.

[Banister]

The crew captain looked calmly and yet so coldly at the gathering group that lay before her, some strewn like shells on the beach. The breeze had begun to randomly die out once more, the smell of sea salt native to the coasts making itself known among the crowd. There was a git of a man with a girl in binds, whom was now free of the thick ropes, and a man whom had just untied her- two wallowing individuals with a fair bit more attitude than she appreciated also had quickly come unto the scene, one of the buggers climbing her prized Chinese-elm ladder she bought from a drunk merchant. Her expression noted no difference until her ears, high with the sense of sound, had begun to ring as a small lady had crept up the boat behind the woman. It really didn't matter to her, anyway, as long as she wasn't a bounty hunter with a bayonet down the captains back she was quite alright. Besides, the leader felt at least some faith in the lady, despite her obvious genetic and biological flaws. And the slave-driver! Thank god that the doctor-badge man had kneed him before she did. Karthikah may have been biased a bit too much, but that was no excuse once so ever to put a person in chains. And he had called the young woman a wretch. She may have not liked females all that much, but that was just plain flat-out mean. Besides, it was only what could be expected of such lowlife slave-heads. How she hated them, strutting about as if they owned everybody...There was no denying they could in a heartbeat, however, and she soon let the fact slide.
Her eyes, brown with a deep tinge of bright amber sparks in the iris, had begun to observe the woman and the doctor a only a meter in front and beneath the lion figurehead. She began to observe the pair closely, thinking of various jobs for each of the people that surround her. The woman behind her, with the striking green hair, would naturally be some sort of musician, due to the harp. Karthikah had always enjoyed the harp, like dripping honey on high. The woman almost directly under her dangling feet...a server of cuisine, perhaps? And the man on the scene next to her, a doctor. Yes. He had heart, and courage at most, and he had kicked the bounding slave-driver in his slightly more delicate area...naturally, he had to be trustworthy. And Trunt, or Traunt, or Taunt, or whatever the flying female Sahound had called him, they both would be some kind of housekeepers. Just to pull down their egos a slight bit more on the list of notches before serving under her. The Syldra, she looked rough. The all around handy-man, that's what she was.
The dangling lady from the helm had begun to speak slowly and clearly into the afternoon, voice dripping with dark yet sarcastic sincerity, as she began to pull out a cigarette drag from a pouch beside her, as Harlem gave flaps of displeasure at her trill waiting. The femme let her strange accent sear dominantly through the crowd, and any possible conversation taking place.
"I assume every one of you, here, shall become a pirate."
The anthropomorphic albie gave a long, dramatic puff on her smoke before continuing her talk. She knew none of these people, and there was a pretty good chance they didn't know each other, either. Might as well get cozy. She closed her eyes, listening to the waves crash against the hull.
"And I also assume that you all have a taste for adventure."
Her left eye opened, right orb still hidden under her eyelid as she spoke. This could be the start of a strange new adventure, climbing her way back to the top of the most wanted list. Her cigarette, still burning, left a trail of thin smoke in the air. There was a moment of silence. It hung lazily in the air, seemingly almost as long as a minute to an hour, silence golden like the sands.
"And for everyone's sanity..."she took one last puff of smoke, letting it curl out of her o-shaped mouth before snuffing it on a burn-scarred plank of wood nailed to the edge, specifically for snuffing various on-fire objects.
"No one here in their right mind should be asthmatic."

[robopup24]

The Langerine's eyes somehow wandered to the slaver below. Her heart skipped a beat. Was it...no, it wasn't. It couldn't be. She escaped long ago. Her former master wouldn't spend that much time finding her...would he? Aina clutched her harp and forced herself to face the Albie now. "I do not care about piracy." Her voice was melodic, a song by itself. "I am simply here to earn my food and a roof over my head. If it is entertainment you want, you shall get it."

It was true. She didn't care where she went, what the others of the crew did, it didn't matter. Aina's scar, standing out on her pale skin, seemed to darken even more as she glanced at the slaver. He's not here. He won't find me. Aina told, or was it lied? to herself.

[GrayGriffin]

"Ah, yes. We tried gang life, but our gang was so small it was stupid," said Truant, twitching his fluffy tail. His eyes had flashed dangerously when he saw the man, but the white-haired guy had beaten him to it. Nothing personal-he cared nothing for the girl, but it was people like that man that had mistreated him.

"Yes, we thought a life of piracy might be most...interesting," said Craimond, landing on the deck. "I do hope we are not intruding. I am Craimond, and this is Traunt."

[2, 2]

[Fallen_Snow]

A girl, about 15 years old, ran over to the ship, a mail satchel flopping against her waist. Her hair was in a messy bun, her bangs spread across her forehead. She ran up to the captain(or who she thought was the captain) and said, "Parcel for you, ma'am." It was a black envelope with a neon green wax seal. On the seal was Sakorai's mark: A dagger pointed downwards with thorns wrapped around it. "It's from Sakorai." she said. Then she stood next to her, leaning against the rail of the ship. She handed her the envelope.

The note read:
Dearest Captain,
I hope you'll be able to read this, as I am writing in code as Jack has been on my back for a while now. As you know, I have been forced to work on this filthy bathtub that stupid and miserable Split lucain calls a ship. Why, I would not be surprised if it fell apart at this very moment! Well, I will soon be joining you, as I have found someone to sell me some robotic pets that I can leave to do my work for me. I'm sure I won't be missed. Anyways, I will soon be coming over. I'll be keeping my gunpowder dry and my blade sharpened for when we meet.
Sincerely,
Sakorai, Venom Rollaby

Marie tried to look at the note over the girl's shoulder. She was curious to what her sweet Rollaby wrote. But all she saw was symbols. She wasn't surprised, seeing as most pirates couldn't read. "Oh!" she said, and reached into her satchel. She pulled out another piece of paper, with the same symbols on it. They had letters next to them. "Sakorai told me to give this to someone who can read." she said, handing it to the captain. "I'll trust you to do that. And then he enclosed one more thing, to assure you that it's from him." she said, and then reached yet again into her stchel. She pulled out Sakorai's other obsidian blade, the one he named Beaker for how it was made. It's core was hollow, so it was light, and he also sometimes poured poison into it. This time he didn't, but there was a note in there too, although Marie didn't know about it. All you had to do was detach the hilt...
Marie smiled. "He told me to tell you that you would know what do with it."

[Flame]

And so the minutes wore on, relatively uneventfully as more people arrived on the beach to catch a glimpse of the junk, and undoubtedly try to earn a spot in its crew. Riot's calculating gaze took all of the details in from her vantage point a little ways off from the bulk of the crowd, weighing up each new arrival as they came. Then, a certain spot on the horizon, on the village side of the shoreline seemed to steal her attention, and her piercing eyes narrowed with some unspoken emotion, though one could be sure that the woman certainly was not happy at what she was seeing. Trouble was coming, it seemed almost as if she could smell it on the wind, like some sort of rank stench that wafted towards her at the first signs of discord. It wasn't long before the form of the slave-master materialized on the sandy beach, and not surprisingly, he was dragging a girl, stumbling, behind him by a coarse rope. Deciding that waiting was no longer an asset to her goals, whatever they might be, she rose in a fluid motion, swiftly picking her path off of the rocky outcropping and landing on the warm sands with a soft whump.

As she drew herself up to her full height, at least a good 5'6", she began to make her way towards the gathering, her path set to intercept that of the slave-driver. Her strides were long, and anyone watching knew that the imposing figure meant business. She was currently in the course of thinking out her next path of action, but no one ever had the chance to find out, perhaps to the man's gain. Unpredictable, yet with deadly accuracy was her strike when she made it, much in the fashion of a coiled viper, though her stance and expression gave away none of her intentions. Her pace slowed slightly, coming to a slow, indifferent walk as she watched a man, fair of visage and obviously just of heart, handled the situation with a deft sort of finesse. That was, until he delivered a merciless punishment to the slave-master, which brought the man down as quickly, if not more so, than the way he had forced the girl to her knees. Although her facial expression still remained cool and unruffled, there was a trace of a reluctant new respect for the man in her unreadable eyes as she eyed him as he knelt next to the girl. A moment later, she returned her attention to the slave's former owner, now writhing on the ground, throwing sand about, his face contorted with agony. A distinct disdain flickered across Riot's features as she stared down her nose at the fallen, watching him without pity for a few minutes. During a lull in the thrashing, she stepped forwards, placing one foot on the hand which still grasped the money and ground it painfully into the sand. "I know your type," she hissed at him, leaning down to glare into his panic stricken eyes. That was how it always was with his type of character: They bullied those weaker than them, when in truth he was a true coward at heart. He hadn't even bought the girl he had just sold, instead, he had kidnapped her from some exotic land, across the seas from the lands of Evelon, bringing her back, knowing that he would make a good profit off of selling her. "Don't think that scum like you can get off that lightly." Indeed, he was lucky to be able to get away with such a felony as to kidnap people for his profit, and only receive such a...trifling reprimand. Stepping harder onto his wrist, she waited until his hand reflexively released the gold before removing the pressure and allowing it to slither back to his body to be clutched against his chest, buggy eyes now glaring up at the dark-skinned young woman, who's cold anger matched his and he was forced to look away. Scooping up the gold, she twirled a coin skillfully between her long fingers, eyeing it with a disturbing calm that had returned to her visage once again.

Walking unhurriedly to the side of the kneeling man, who proclaimed his profession as that of a doctor, she let the gold drop from her hand, clinking together in a small pile at his side. "In the future, it would be advisable not to waste gold on such vermin." Her voice was impassive as she spoke over her shoulder, continuing away from the pair, not once glancing over her shoulder. Only once she had reached the fringes of the crowd again did she turn around to face the captain of the craft, head cocked at an angle as she observed her, thumbs in the back pockets of her khakis, an expression of half-attention on her features, even though she absorbed each word, letting them roll in her mind as she analyzed the situation.

---

Bitterness.
That was the only emotion that prevailed in Sianna's mind as she knelt in the sun-baked sands, her head hanging low as she hid her smouldering gaze. Too long had she suffered the cowardly tortures of the man that called himself her master, yet there was nothing that she could have done against him, for despite his lily-livered personality, there was still brute strength in his fat frame, power that she, only being a slave-girl, did not, could not possibly have had. With no other choice, she knelt and waited, hoping that the captain would not refuse her. Anything would be better than having to go back to the life, if it could have been called a life, she had known for the past years of her life. In truth, she had been of royal blood before being kidnapped by the cruel man, and by now, there was not a chance of her returning, seeing as her native lands would not allow any foreign ships into their territory, especially after her disappearance. She had grown to be used to living with abuse and neglect, but inside, within the confines of her soul, the flame of her pride and high-strung nature still burned strong, even she did not have the physical capability to retaliate.

To say the least, she was taken by surprise, to say the least, when she felt the cords binding her wrists yanked, less than gently. This time though, it was not to deliberately cause her pain, which was queer of the slave-driver. She would soon find, though, that it was not he who had done so, but a newcomer. The clink of coins above only served to confuse her more, for the woman before her had not stirred from her position, and therefore could not possibly have been the one to have paid up. Her anger was now, for the most part, replaced by uncertainty and a hint of anxiety, disliking the fact that she had no idea what in the world was going on. Thus, she waited, waited for whatever new, harsh fate that would befall her take its toll. Tensed, she held her breath, not daring to breathe in her anticipation.

When she felt someone touch her sore wrists, still tied behind her, she started, making a half-hearted attempt to move away before stopping, knowing that trying to escape would do her no good. She had learned that lesson long ago, thanks to the slave-master. Her breathing now quickened, her heart fluttering in her chest with apprehension. On first glance, before she was forced to the ground, she had caught sight of a rather rough-looking bunch of people gathered about. Who knew what could possibly happen? She froze as she felt light fingers on her wrist and binds again, fearful to move lest the person turn on her. The last thing she expected to happen was for that certain person to pull the tightly knotted hemp rope off of her wrists, freeing her from her bonds for the first time in years. Shocked and speechless, she could only kneel where she was, clutching her chaffed wrists, still afraid to turn around. A moment passed and a sharp grunt of pain issued from behind her, and she recognized the voice of the slave-master. The slave-master?

The girl's mind kicked into overdrive at his voice, simply unable to understand what was going on. In a few minutes, her existence had been flipped upside-down and turned inside-out. Nothing made sense anymore. Suddenly, everything whirled to an abrupt halt as the gentle face of a young man appeared before her startled aquamarine gaze and she got a first glimpse of the person who had 'bought' her. The first words out of his mouth were "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I'm a doctor, so if you feel any pain, tell me and I'll take a look..." Those were the first kind words she had heared, it seemed, in eons, and for a moment, she could only stare, not certain that the last turn of events had really happened. Finally, her mind cued her to speak, although the aftershock still did not allow her mind to think clearly just yet. It would take a while for everything to sink in.

"I...I'm fine," she managed to stammer, not quite sure herself of what she was saying.

[Rainbowfox Ari]

Jask's kind eyes met those of the slave, and he stood, helping her up and to her feet, making sure she could stand, and supporting her if needbe. The glare that followed was reserved for the retreating slaver, and the gentle hands that guided the girl's shoulders were the hands of a talented, compassionate man that was not afraid of a hard day's labor. Calloused and worn, yet soft and deft. The smile was warm and friendly, inviting anyone it found to smile back. He meant her no harm, and didn't seem like the type to ever sell her or trade her. It meant two things. One... it meant that there were still good people in the world. Two... it meant that she was... FREE. And as he guided her, he said as much, chuckling slightly.

"You don't need to be bound anymore. You may go wherever you like now. I can give you some money, if you need it. Or you can stick with me. It's your choice. I will never treat you like that man did."

To the pirate captain, he nodded, much interested in the chance of a change in his lifestyle. Pirate. It had such a nice ring to it, a flavor on the tongue that was sweet and bitter at the same time. Pirate doctor. He didn't know they had such things. But apparently so. Or rather... perhaps so, if the captain truly meant to go through with having him on her crew. He stepped up to her, and looked her in the eyes. Unafraid. He knew his place through. As soon as he had made proper eye-contact, he bowed in a manner befitting a prince or a lord, before straightening up. Then, he simply walked to a place which made it VERY clear he'd decided to be on this crew. Beside the captain.

[GrayGriffin]

Traunt's eyes glimmered as he watched the punishments dealt out to the slave driver. Nonetheless, he frowned as the girl only stomped on his wrist. She had let him off way too easy. With a snarl, he leapt off the boat, landing on the man's back. Snarling, he sank his claws into the back of the man's neck, relishing the blood that flowed.

"You," he growled. "I hate your type. Not because I feel for the girl, but because it was your type that orphaned me first. Now, will you go, or will I have to pierce your artery?"

It was obvious the man couldn't leave. Not with Traunt pressing down so hard that a slight movement could mean death. Traunt didn't care, anyways. His goal was to kill this man.

Craimond watched, wide-eyed. Her wings hung at her sides, stiff and unmoving. Traunt was dangerous when he went crazy like this, and only she could stop him. But her limbs wouldn't obey her, wouldn't take her down to her leader's side. She barely managed to call out.

"No, Traunt! Please stop..."

[3, 3]

[MillietheWarrior]

A man leaned against a small cart, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His ebony hair was ruffled by the breeze, and the salty tang of the ocean tickled his sensitive nose as his canine like ears at the top of his head tilted crazily to drink in the sounds. A smile curved upwards on his parted lips, and he lifted one pale hand to swipe his bangs from his eyes. He was clad in a black leather coat, with a green ribbon hanging from the side of the collar. His shirt was button up, and ivory, blending nicely with his pale, porcelain skin. It was kept open, and beneath that shirt, was another, darker, and slightly more sinister. A black silk shirt, with a grey cross etched onto the front of, standing starkly out against the white of his shirt on his broad chest.

His multiple tops concealed the orange feathers that sprouted from his back, a trademark of his kind. His pants were completely black, and his feet were clad in a pair of simple black combat boots. He sighed, his chest rising and falling peacefully, before a sound from behind him startled him out of his quiet reverie. "What er yeh doin', young man? Get off'er my cart this instant!" The man leaned against the cart for a casual moment, smirking despite the small, busty woman waving a rolling pin at him in a threatening way. He closed his eyes, letting the scents of the port flow over him, before he pushed away from the cart, padding away on silent feet. The woman blinked, clearly having expected more of a confrontation. But after a moment of befuddled confusion, she went back to what she was doing.

The young man strolled through he streets, glancing about this way and that, but not really paying attention to anything in particular. A long black tail weaved lazily behind him, and more than once he was stopped by a particularly well kept woman, who beckoned him closer with a smile. But he paid them no mind. He wasn't interested in that kind of thing right now. What he was really interested were the docks. A job. Perhaps there was someone there worth betting time and money on. He smirked, the edges of his mouth curling up in a rather cynical manner. As he neared the edge of the pier, he paused, ears tilted in the direction of one ship in particular. He picked up the words of each creature or person as they spoke, and found, to his dark amusement, that they were looking for crew members.

Pirates, he though dully, pulling a small pack from his pocket and picking out a small, thin cigarette. He placed it at the corner of his mouth, and withdrew a lighter form a different pocket, setting the small, white bundle aflame. Inhaling deeply, he breathed out a small plume of smoke, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a sardonic smile. Lets give it a go, shall we? With the grace of an alley cat, he made his way onto the boat, lingering around the fringes of the deck. His eyes locked onto the captain; a stately and proud looking woman, with a cigarette hanging form her mouth. He chuckled deeply, his blue eyes glowing beneath his dark bangs. My kind of gal, he thought, catching the tail end of what she had said.

He could honestly care less for the troubles of the other creatures who had flocked to her, so he paid them very little mind. A courtesy, in his world. To be ignored, meant they did not have his attention, and therefore, had done nothing to gain it. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, taking one long inhale, and parted his lips to allow a plume of grey smoke to escape. "A pirate, hm?" he called, his voice a deep, rich baritone. "What's in it for us, then, cap'n?" He could care less about the others; what he wanted was for himself alone.

[Banister]

Karthikah looked over beside her, where it had seemed so many movements had just deviated in a seemingly matter of seconds. There, two flying beings had just been, whom now were off trying to fumble each other off of the slave-driver that had just gotten the dickens kicked out of him by a doctor and a woman of her stature. There, instead of those two, was a man- the same man who had in fact, just kicked the living daylights of the elderly moron with the ropes. This man was amazingly decisive, along with most of the others whom had just suddenly and unrealistically made the decisive to devote their lives to the abduction of ships for riches. She would change them if they needed it, buffing them up on rat's livers fresh from the storing cabinet or lobster or fishes from the great source of salt around them. That would be, of course, if the new nutritionist aboard approved.
The captain quickly and majestically disposed of her cigarette through a fair flick of the wrist, smoke only ow coming in slight wisps from her barely open mouth. That same wrist swooped down and soared through the air in a slight arc, pleasantly snatching up the letter from the girl's grasp, depositing a five-cent gold piece in replacement through the din of the violence.
"I do, in fact, know what to do with this piece of work. I thank you for your troubles, young miss." She said curtly to the young woman, pocketing the knife. Her focus then changed behind her, listening to the movements of a black-haired pale man. The woman's reply to his question came as a matter-of fact kind of statement, face straight with a common fair mouth.
"You don't get a bayonet shoved through your neck for being an insolent fool. Good enough for ye'?"

{Choo. Ban sais nay to tagging. It confuses the hell out of her sometimes. I guess it's a free for all after I post, and once everyone whos active has posted once, I post. I guess that's the order if there ever is one. o3o~ }

[Flame]

Riot's gaze was unreadable as she watched the happenings before her. One creature went barrelling towards the downed slave-driver, as if intent on killing him. Clearly, the young woman was not impressed by this display of aggression. Honestly, if all pirates were anything like this, then she must had made a grave overestimation of them in general.

"You do realize that you're not proving anything by attacking that vermin, right?" Her voice was blank, but there was a faint hint of veiled scorn in its careful edge. Subtlety was key. "Only cowards abuse those that are unable to fight back, even the stupidest creature knows that: I'm sure he knows that very well." A brief flick of her head indicated the fallen slave-driver, who was now being flayed by the Albie. "Honestly, if you're trying to make a point, the only one that's coming across is that you are no better than the scum that you're attacking." This said, she paid the trio no more attention, once again turning to glance at the captain.

A black-haired man had joined the crowd, immediately making his presence felt with his insolence. There was a spark of interest in the young woman's face as she awaited the captain's reaction, wanting to see how she handled the situation.
"You don't get a bayonet shoved through your neck for being an insolent fool. Good enough for ye'?"
There was a hint of satisfaction in the dark-skinned woman's visage as the answer was thrown back in the man's face. She now harbored a new respect for the captain: This woman put up with no nonsense, and she made sure that everyone knew that. Riot nodded faintly in approval. Perhaps this would be worth her time afterall.

---

Her mind still stuck, as if it were a jammed piece of machinery, Sianna silently allowed the kind doctor to direct her movements, his hands upon her thin shoulders. At this time, she was more than just a little unsure of her own capability to maneuver herself, considering the fact that she had been chained to a stone wall for the majority of the past years of her life, not being allowed the chance to even stretch her legs or exercise, and on top of that, she had just gone through quite an experience, one that had the potential to turn her yet miserable life around. As the man who had just bought her spoke, something snapped back into place in her mind, and she swayed precariously for a moment as she was left standing upon her own feet again. On the verge of falling, she caught herself at the last moment, feeling rather disoriented as she stood on her sore feet. The warm sand felt good between her toes, especially in comparison to the dirty, jagged granite floor of the shed she was so recently housed in. It only took her a few moments longer to reorient herself as the words sank into her mind.

Freedom.
For years, that word had only meant false hope, a dream that would, could never be acheived. By this time, the girl had already resigned herself to the fact that she would eventually deteriorate to nothing, a shell of her former self under the overbearing rule of the slave-driver. For her, finding freedom was like being a bird with broken wings to wake up one day and find that she could once again take to the skies. Sianna breathed in deeply, relishing the feel of the sun on her face and the fresh smell of the ocean slowly breathing life into her spirit. There was a new light in her eyes as she finally turned to face the man who had rescued her. She saw the weariness in his eyes and the faint bruise that still lingered on his face from some past abuse. Her light gaze was piercing, intense, yet at the same time soft and filled with gratitude. The first smile in a decade touched the line of her thin lips, lighting up her delicate features with a new life. Standing, no longer bound by chains or shackles, she looked dignified, proud, as regal as she had once been. She looked about her, blatently paying no attention to her former 'master'. The fat excuse for a man was not even worth her scorn.

After she was satisfied that she understood, at least to a degree, what was going on, it didn't take her long to make a decision on her future. These lands were completely foreign to her, and she had no idea where she was or anything about the surrounding area. Admittedly, she needed the company of others, others that she could trust. She would not sink to such a degree as was forced upon her by the slave-driver, yet it was the only life she had known. Glancing over at the doctor again, who was now standing by the captain, she made her final choice. Drawing herself up, she slowly but decisively made her way over to him, pausing before him to prooffer a small curtsey coupled with a gracious incline of her proud head.

"You have my most profound gratitude for giving my life back to me again." Her voice was light and musical in quality, yet had a heart-touching sincerity to it. "For that, I am willing to serve you, even if it means going to the ends of the earth." He was her new master now, one that had truly earned her respect, and she was willing to obey him, knowing that he was a just and fair man. She dipped her head lightly to the pirate captain, paying her only the respect due to her, and only because her own master had chosen to follow her. From now on, the only person she would take orders from was him, and only him.