RP:Chance Meeting at the Pirate Hideout

Location: Pirate Hideout

Built right into the convenient slope of a shallow cave, the rafters are set into the rough, stone ceiling of this smuggler’s hideout. Your entrance brings about a pause of silence as shrewd eyes move your way, the only sound caused from the suspended oil lamps creaking on their rusty chains while the amber flame within flickers from the breeze of the opened door. A ramshackle wooden table with holes and knife marks scoring the surface supports a four-manned game of cards that will reluctantly continue, though one of those players has already managed to sneak an extra turn in during the distraction. The bar is over crowded, several mismatched chairs provided but none of them used, as each sea worn individual remains on their feet to lean against the counter, instead. A tattered black flag is pinned to a wooden, window-less wall that also serves as a crude notice board for hiring hands. There is a strange, star shaped mark sketched in red across a corner. A second door provides an escape in the back of this room, exiting south.

Jolie had slipped away, once the crowd thinned or lay snoring face-down on timber or sand, to check on her charge lying somnolent in the ship's belly. Satisfied, at length, with his condition she would once more slip restlessly down to the cove, green eyes keeping icy watch-- as far as human vision allowed for in the dark-- for her absconded offspring. Worry etched into the furrowed lines of her brow, the mortal stood stalwart sentinel by the cave's entrance. The rogue's mutt, having sniffed off into the night after gods-knew-what scent, his ruff prickling, returned not long after Jolie herself, looking near as unnerved as a dog can get. More reason for Joliette to frown. Way she was going, she was in for some early -- or way overdue, however one saw it -- wrinkles.

Rhocielle cautiously returned to the occupied cavern, thinking most of the seafaring brigands had laid down on their cots or mats of hay. Less eyes that could potentionally be scanning for an intruder, the better. Finding only only a single sentry posted, his sharp hunter eyes noted. It was his experience that there was never just a single sentry though. Ever more alert, his black fur bristled where it was not obscured by equally blending garb and armor. He climbed down along the cliff wall he had been so carefully perched upon. Had he been noticed while sitting in patient study, he would have been dismissed as a curious mongrel, and nothing more. Even with his tall humanoid frame, he had shifted himself to sit upon his haunches in a mimickery of a natural wolf's seated stance. But now, that the pirates were to their beds, he was free to examine closer. He froze, however, and pressed his back against the shadows of the wall, when one of his feet jostled loose a few wayward pebbles. They were faint clunking sounds that traveled down towards the sandy floor as they impacted their rocky brethren, but he still paused to make sure his folly had not been detected.

Jolie had not the senses she once had, a fact she might have cursed had she known what was lurking out there-- but the dog at her side could sniff a rival out a mile away, and though Jolie was not of her beloved's ilk and thus had no capacity to understand canine speech, knew enough of their general behaviour to surmise that something was amiss, out there in the rocky dark. She had not been weak so long as to have learned true trepidation, and anyway was armed with a sword, and stepped from the candle's periphery with bold stride and set jaw. Something was heckling Jack's nerves, and she'd only seen him this fretful in the presence of ... but that individual was in the hold, sleeping. She wished it were not so, and sharp senses -- and sometimes-sharper claws were at her back, when the tick-tack of rubble skimming stone sounded over the wash of the incoming tide. "Who goes there?" Better to be bold than taken by surprise, was her theory at this point. "Show yourself, if you're not a coward."

Rhocielle clicked his broad tongue against the set of canine teeth in his maw. There was nothing to be done, as he was curious this night, and it would do more harm than good to leave and return another night. Announcing his presence to both dog and woman, he allowed his ankles to lax. The leathery padding underfoot protected his soles from being scratched and otherwise torn into by the jagged rocks that comprised his make shift slide. A rhythmic scattering of stones was the calling of something approaching Jolie and her four legged companion. In graceful movement, he came up to an upright stance the moment his feet reached the sand. He gave no name initially, standing several yards away from the female as a wraith of sorts. Closer observation, even by onl moonlight, revealed what he was. He stood as a man, but remained a wolf. Unlike most of his kin, savage beasts in this particular form, he remained still and without hostile inclinations of movement. His cape billowed behind him, and yet there was no strong enough sea breeze to warrant it. A bushy black tail instead gave the prior illusion, wagging thoughtfully against the back of the fabric.

Leoxander appears from the east.

Jolie narrowed peridot eyes as much out of hyper-suspicion as the need to see in a relative dearth of light. Her small hand remained firm about the hilt of her blade, clenching and unclenching minutely, while the black dog at her side inched forward with her, gaining ground on the sudden figure that was, to the woman at least, little more yet than a vague and oddly formed silhouette. The mutt's lips still twitched up, a low growl stating that this was marked territory. Jolie, in her human manner, did much the same. "What're you at, lurking about in the dark? Who goes, I asked?" There was nothing akin akin to fear in her tone, mainly as who-ever-it-was hadn't made any attempt to leap the distance between them, yet. Vision adjusting to candleless night, dimmer moon beams, and she would surmise his bestial nature. Well, that explained Jack's pissiness, alright. Still, no forthcoming attack. But the worst wolves were the ones that smiled first, she knew, and so kept that hand gripped upon her cutlass in case.

Rhocielle silently raised a paw like hand at his shoulder level; a gesture of peace perhaps, or merely halting the advances of both human and canine. "Investigating," the voice finally replied, bluntly, "I saw the lights from a distance and wondered what it was, this far out from the city." The accent was heavy and wolfish, even, much like the speaker himself. Keeping his leathery padding of his palm open to her, he stepped out further into the moonlight. Emblazoned breastplate lay upon his chest, with contrasting armor of an obsidian visage covered his arms and legs. "I mean you no harm..." he carefully assured in his husky drawl. Concerned that the others might be alerted and may jump to hastier conclusions, his grey eyes darted towards the mouth of the cove before returning to Jolie. Fur coated ears, however, continuously flicked atop his scalp as further measure of safety. For the moment, he did not give his name, as he could not be entirely sure how well recieved he would be by the woman now that he was more into the open space of the beach.

Leoxander was following a scent, tracking his prey, desiring the outcome. A brown leathery nose flared for a familiar aroma that pushed through the caverns in a determined path. It was an area he knew more than by heart - it was his territory. So the mere fact that another had arrived to so boldly linger had the lycan prowling about with narrowed, slitted eyes. Though the stranger might not mean harm, he had provided a clear intrusion, and halted the human. Alerted was an understatement to the pirate's mood, realizing this. Jolie would not receive the wolf's appearance nearly so cautiously as this one would, mismatched eyes aglow from the light or torches, and glaring upon the newcomer.

Jolie had risked a sharp glance back toward the supposedly hidden cove, to where an un-covered chink in stone bled the bright yellow of the wax-fed light that had drawn the stranger in from the sand. That was how she caught sight of her mate, and why the look she turned back toward Rhocielle was considerably kinder than it had been. At least, it would look that way. "Well met, then, stranger. But do you not possess a name with which to introduce yourself?" Her hand fell away from her weapon. No need for that, now. Jack remained bristled, but had stopped snarling.

Rhocielle blinked abruptly, though nothing had yet been said by the human female. It was something else. Just as quickly as the granite orbs of the wolfen male flickered, they narrowed cautiously. It was not lost on him that Jolie's features softened, and the newly acquired scent merely confirmed this. It was not merely something else, but someone else. Perhaps to her surprise, he pivoted upon his heel slowly until he both had the general direction of the other Lycan and the human female in his gaze. So casual was his shifting that it could have easily been dismissed as the black furred male merely looking off pleasantly into the distance. More than likely, however, the pirates would be aware that he too, was aware of them. "Rho," he seemed to bellow out from his maws, only loud enough so the other set of acute ears could hear him. Taking a risk himself, as he did not know the loyalties of these raiders, he added, "Round Guard of the Fold..."

Leoxander did not advance. He would award the stranger this moment to be friendly, and give a name. Or at least, a partial name, though none but Rhocielle would know this. Lynx tipped ears flattened to a blond skull, the lycanthope remained at the edge of the cavern, in those thickest of shadows. He had both the scent of his mate, and the scent of the other wolf, should anything go awry. It was a slight surprise that the male would give his name and title, but the rogue did nothing to interrupt the conversation, despite that 'Rho' certainly knew he was watching over.

Jolie stopped her eyes rolling moon-ward, and only said, "Oh?" Rather than express her thoughts at the title given, she'd drop her gaze to a chilly surveillance that took the lycan in head to toe. A profound silence hung in the air like a body swinging from a yardarm, before she nodded her recognition of the clan. "This is our home. We don't often have.. visitors." And was it any wonder? She wouldn't put a name -whose- home, since three of them stood there plain to see and two of them were not very forthcoming with names, after all, and the third was a dog. Her next question was politely put: "And where is your own territory, Rho?"

Rhocielle kept Jolie to a more peripheral gaze, the unknown male awarded most of his attention. That is, until the woman spoke anew. Then the cove he had happened upon several times was not as desolate as he first imagined. The mention of home denoted that it was only through sheer coincidence that he had not stumbled upon the human and the other Lycan, being a 'visitor' to this location often in his continuing reconnaissance of the island. He nodded in acknowledgement to her claim, believing neither she nor the other male would be so defensive about this area were it not true. When she asked of his own home, he turned his muzzle to address her directly. There was hesitation to both eyes and the thin black lips of his muzzle. He was a wanderer and slept where he found himself weary. His new station as Arien's warder, however, recently had him resetting priorities. "Kelay," he finally replied. The clan's compound was much more his home and territory than he could currently declare. Strange that he did not once ask for their names, even when noticing that they were not offered. To a Lycan, a scent was truer to an individual than any name uttered.

Leoxander took a step forward then, mostly because he sensed the mood that was inside the other lycan's body, rather than the behavior displayed without. Upon four large paws he crept, the hind larger than the front, which were shaped ironically like hands in this hybrid visage. His eyes were tinted uneven, starburst black pupils fixed upon Rocielle as he stepped into the light of fire, with a cavern of rock blocking the natural moonlight above. Although he approached at Joliette's side, bowed forward as no man would ever be, his hulking frame stood above her hip near her midsection, even as low to the ground as he remained, ready to destroy. There it was... the start of a deep growl rumbling through his chest, between pearl-white rows of teeth that remained grit in frustration. He'd never seen this individual before, and that was enough cause for unease.

Jolie , in direct response to her mate's increasing unease, became visibly more relaxed as Leo took her side. "You're far from home, then, Rho." Her head tilted a little as she studied him, a faint smile curving her lips. "I take it your wandering here has to do with your clan, then?" Oh-so-careful, the way she probed, and ever-so polite. An inhalation through her nose, light as a happy sigh's beginning, filled her senses with the Captain's odor, and she forewent a brush of hand against fur or skin, her exhalation made into a single, near-silent word of greeting instead: "Love."

Leoxander was not far from Jolie's side, then, his vision locked to the other.

Rhocielle watched intently as the other male finally revealed himself, an ear twitching as he took note of the distinguishing features of the feral male. The state of hybridization of the other only caused further speculation. Bitten or born, this one seemed much like the rest of his mainland kin: animals in this form, barely more sentient than the wolves they resembled. Slowly he turned once more to face the woman and her own Lycan protector. No, not protector: her mate, in fact. Expressing no distress or submission as Leoxander pandered his dominance, he nodded to Jolie. "Aye..," he stated, with neither lowering of his ears, nor inward curling of his tail. Despite his intrusion, he was not one to be so easily intimidated, especially on the grounds of a sincere mistake for believing this area to be without inhabitants after near a week of scouting. "My clan leader calls a small beach eastward of here her home," he admitted, a plausible excuse for any Fold members to be found in the general surroundings. More than plausible, but true, having been present to a meeting with the High Elf and the black dragon he had initially tracked to this location.

Leoxander reacted only for the mere fact that Rho' showed no respect, and no understanding to the fact this territory was in fact dominated, by that very possessive male that now faced the dark coated lycan. It hardly mattered that his mind registered the private beach as the elf's. Because this wanderer had found his way into this cove and did not back down in the slightest way, the rogue would suddenly lurch forward from his place at Jolie's side with a snarl, intending to catch the other off guard and perhaps topple him roughly onto his side or back with the pounce like maneuver intended for just this. There was no slash of claws, no clamp of long fangs into a vulnerable spot. Only a preemptive decision that might seriously warn Rhocielle that he was not dealing with any ordinary foe, or encounter. Leoxander was ready to kill or be killed for claim of that area, particularly in this so very feral form.

Jolie knew all too well the ways of dominant male lycans, and took herself and the worrisome Jack several long paces back toward the cavemouth, no alarm in her mien, no sign of doubt that Leoxander was master of the cove. But her hand strayed to her sword again, and dropped to the dog's ruff. Instinct was a powerful thing, indeed, when one was primed to kill without conscience or hesitation. Or had been...

Rhocielle flared his nostrils to growing growls and eventual snarled of the other male. He was nothing like his kin, ever present of himself and his surroundings to the keenest sense of a humanity that he would never resemble physically. Quick to backpedal away from the pounce, he drew out his blade, sheath and all. Though Leoxander in his feral state would not take notice of this, but perhaps Jolie would. The covered sword swung down in a furiously swift motion, well behind the feral Lycan's muzzle. It was not his intent to even injure the other male despite the aggressive launch. Instead, the sand in front of the seemingly calm anthropomorphic wolf erupted in a thunderous and irritating forward ploom of grains. A preventative gesture, as he made no movement forward with his blade still held low in a defensive pose that mimicked modern fencing. He snorted heavily and dismissively to the other, another step back taken to alert the other of his agreement to depart from the area. A soft clink of the sheath was heard as one of his claws lifted it away from the hilt. Retreating, but he silently told the other male that he would make Leoxander pay for every reverse inch that was not allowed peacefully.

Leoxander landed upon familiar stone, washed a bit smoother from an entirely jagged state due to high, scheduled tide. A sudden drop of his low frame even further to the ground prevented the tips of coarse blond fur from being snipped shorter by the swipe of blade, even if it was purposefully missed. Head low, hackles high, the wolf half circled the intruder with an intimidating front, no matter how this stranger would judge him. He'd have reached just beyond seven feet in height, but the fact he remained prepared upon all fours disguised his true size. Muscle mass and sharp claws to match two to three inch long fangs were not so easy to hide, considering how riled he was. Every step back might be a tally in Rhocielle's booklet, but it was another reason to advance in Leo's. He became deathly quiet, prowling in short steps after the sword bearing male like a lion would stalk wildebeest in tall grass. Already knowing the outcome, already tasting blood.

Jolie might resemble one of those girls who likes to hang in dubious places after dark and watch her man fight. Mainly, as she was one, at heart, evidence being the way her coral tongue swept over her lips, the intensity of her gaze fixed upon the escalating scuffle. There was a day when Rho's drawn sword might have cost him his head, at risk of Leo's disappointment and disapproval, but now she was content to curl herself up on a high rock, Jack dismissed to the deeper cave with a word he probably wouldn't listen to but hey, it was worth a try. It wasn't that she wished ill, particularly, upon Rhocielle. It was a lot, however, to do with an increasing resentment toward those who thought to include this cove in their own territories, and seeing that line more firmly drawn now swelled her heart with a raw kind of satisfaction.

Rhocielle slowly drew his sheathed blade upward, bracing the now downward pointed weapon with the back of an arm. An unorthodox stance, the positioning of arm and sword resembling a crucifix. One paw exposing the leathery padding of his palm, he took slow purposeful steps in the direction of the cliffs. Illuminating their constantly moving ring, both wolfish hands flared brightly with bluish flames roaring over the jet black fur of his proper hand and each clawed digit. The color of the magical fires spoke of a Healer's light, but the unstable nature of the fiery tendrils around his paws lent a different nature. Sand compressed softly to each step taken by his gaiter-shielded paws, the only sound accompanying the predictable crash of waves, now that the feral Lycan stalked silently. Granite orbs met with the mismatched ones without expression. He could easily flee, if he wished, but his particular lot in life was to prove that his kind were not just savage beasts that lived for the thrill of the kill. Armed, armored, and of a bestial appearance that granted a strength and speed to rival the natural aspects of a more feral creature, he could easily draw out the blade and end this with blood staining the sand. This was not his way, however, especially those he himself had wronged. Closer, he neared his objective of departure, with all his senses focused upon Leoxander's bestial frame.

Jolie hissed a breath over her teeth at the apparent lack of forthcoming excitement, and slithered down off the rock with the sound of leather shushing on stone. She was satisfied her point had been made clear, and that the black lycan wasn't about tussling over land... not right now, any how. "Love?" Her voice sounded high and clear, above growls and wave-crashes. If that Leo's attention, he'd find her retreating backward to the cavern. Her words lifted again, this time pointed to their new acquaintance. "Do pass on my regards to your leader. I hope there's no further confusion." Once more, her attention went to the Captain, and a laugh and her retreating figure, taking off at an enticing run, was hopefully bait enough to call off a fight that .. well, wasn't really happening.

Leoxander was the epitome of 'pissed off'. Fangs would bear, scruff exaggerated to porcupine quills of desert blond fur, few of which were tipped a darker brown in markings to resemble tribal tattoos, in a truer form. The use of magic only further irritated him in his feral state. How dare this intruder make himself known, speak to his mate, and then display some form of unnatural defense as though it would halt Rhocielle's own tragic death. No, it wasn't this defensive display, but a single soft spoken word that caused fur tipped ears to shift and swivel back toward the brunette. There was a moment when her attention wasn't on him, a wave of irritation rolling down his spine and adjusting his thick coat in a wave like manner. But the moment enticing eyes fixed back his way, the moment she set off into a determined run, he was torn, fixated upon this new intriguing prey with a desire far more profound than his want to rip out Rhocielle's throat, which was powerful on it's own. One last dangerous look roamed toward the other male. A promise that the next time he decided to tread so lightly into this cove, it would be his last wakeful adventure. And then he would sprint madly for his mate, his speed excelling his strength, both of which were quite impressive in this bestial form.

Rhocielle heard the callings of the female towards both engaged male Lycans, but it did not deter his attention from Leoxander. He would have laughed had he known the woman's internal thoughts. Wolves would be wolves, and consider any intruder as a threat to their territory, despite his sincere intention of only reconnaissance of any Imperial forces stationed besides the harbor and city proper. Not even time to respond to Jolie, he presumed she would know that the black furred male would abide by the suggestion offered. Watching the other male take off in pounding strides towards the cove, he lowered his still sheathed blade and dimmed the exhaustive glows of his paws, the weapon tucked once more into the accompanying sword belt. Remaining only for a moment to regain his thoughts, he took off quickly back towards the eternal glow of the city of Rynvale.