RP:Once More, With Feeling

Part of the Township Troopers Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: Lionel decides the time has come to secure passage for the voyage to the mysterious insectoid island. Together with Emrith, Khitti, Brand, Kreekitaka, and Meri, he makes for the docks, where the guild and their allies work together to convince a master-at-arms that their cause is worthy. But none among the team have any knowledge of just how much history their new ship harbors...

Rynvale: Broken Barrel Inn

Emrith has been in the Broken Barrel for a couple of hours now, and has recently taken up something of a new profession. He is playing the flute. The spell-blade is a passable musician, no one's idea of a bard but possessed of a good ear, quick fingers and a solid if rudimentary musical aptitude. He is currently perched atop a table, regaling the inn's patrons with an up-tempo elven tune he learned in his youth. It lilts and gallops along, fast and exuberant, and many of the various drinkers in the establishment are clapping or stomping along. When the delirious reel comes to a close, Emrith lowers his flute, takes a bow, then steps lightly down from the table. "The least I could do," he calls out, "for all the trouble. I may or may not be back tomorrow." There are various half-hearted cheers and calls for more, but the elf pays them no mind. He stows the flute in a hard leather case, tucks the instrument under his arm, and sits himself down at a nearby table. Someone plunks down a frothing tankard before him, and Emrith, nodding his thanks, takes a healthy pull. Playing the flute is thirsty work.

Meri does not make her entrance from above as she did the last meeting, where on the island she has been roaming around is anyone's guess. The most logical assumption is that she is probably rolling in from the tattoo parlor that the two leading ladies and their apprentice have had to spend much time cleaning up. No beer or sammiches were delivered though...Lionel. Looking at you. There is Emrith, whom Meri recognizes and greets with a nod but she does not make a beeline over to him. It's the bar she is after and Simon knows her order well, as Meri does not even need to speak her want. Tumbler of whiskey is placed on the bar, it's collected in exchange for the coin and then Meri finds a seat near Emrith. The rest will be greeted in turn as they arrive with a nod, no smile. Except Eirik. He'll just get this awkward look, someone is still at a loss for words after the bombshell then lycan dropped on her last night.

Lionel hasn’t left his rented room since the sun’s first rays began to cascade over Rynvale’s watery horizon this morning. In the span of these past thirteen isolated hours, he’s mulled over texts in moldy Haathian tomes, scribbling notes and then crossing them out when doubt has besieged him. Breakfast came and went, and lunch and dinner, too, and an old stately servant, a mere wisp of a man, really, has brought these meals to his guest but they’ve all gone cold by the wooden door. Their smells, cinnamon and saffron and a strange red powder Lionel cannot recall ever having seen, fill the humble room while the food is fresh, then fill it again with less savory scents once it’s stale. The servant, who has given his name as Sate Elmswer, merely bows and replaces each dish with its newer rendition. Lionel barely registers the actions. He barely registers anything, except his books, and the magister’s journal entries, and the guild’s mosaic, and the bitterness he has felt over the fallen of Rynvale. The one thing Lionel does notice is that dusk’s prying shadows have overtaken his living space, so he lifts himself up off of his chair and calls upon Hellfire’s energies to activate a lantern for further reading. He’s almost to his books again when there’s a knock at the door. “You haven’t knocked any of the previous fifty times you’ve barged in here, Sate,” he exaggerates, “so I’m not sure why you’d knock now.” A muffled voice, feminine and afraid, comes through from the other side. But the door is so thick -- this is Rynvale, after all -- that the Catalian can hardly register the words. Frowning, he cautiously opens the door. A woman of advanced years whose gaze seems almost permanently affixed to the floor shakes and stammers before him. Lionel blinks and invites her in. She tells her tale over a cup of the lukewarm tea Sate had left some two hours past, and nothing about it is pleasant. She’s an old widow now, she explains, and none of her crafts are worth any coin. Her husband died in the recent battle, and she’s scared out of her wits, and please, ser, help an old lady out. Lionel is glad to do so. He is, after all, rather permanently in possession of too much coin by most counts, and he has no great need for hardly any of it. The old woman’s features brighten, but only slightly, and she thanks him for the gesture, and this will keep her fed for a month or more, but she’s still so sad, you see, because of the others who have lost loved ones. It’s not that Lionel doesn’t care. He cares, intensely. But with all the things happening all across the realm, to all the people that matter most to him, it’s all he can do to nod and express his sympathies. And then she’s gone, the tiniest hint of spring in her old step, and Lionel is distracted now, his bitterness threatening to overwhelm him. “Maybe it’s not too late for dinner, then.” And by dinner, he means beer. He makes his way downstairs to the tune of the last notes from Emrith’s flute, and he fetches his beverage of choice while Meri takes her seat beside the elf. In a calculated move, Lionel swallows nearly half his drink before approaching. Sobriety is overrated, anyway. His face is filled with consternation. “Evening, you two. It’s as well you’re here, then. I think it’s high time we got ourselves a ship.”

Khitti was upstairs--because this was the only place with rentable rooms, so where else would she be?--sorting through her things. After a small “mishap” on the ride to Rynvale, her belongings had unfortunately gotten tossed around everywhere and it was wonder that she managed to make it off the ship with everything. With a heavy sigh, she closed the door to the closet, then said to Brand, “I’m going downstairs...are you coming?” It didn’t help things that their room had a window-that-was-not-quite-a-window in their ceiling thanks to the recent attack on the island by those god awful bugs and now there was a bird chirping away at itself in the mirror in the washroom. Good thing they decided to stable their giant cats elsewhere or else their room would probably be worse off and covered in feathers and claw marks. Khitti’d pull on her boots, wait for an answer from the Catalian before going downstairs. There’d be much hesitation on the vampiress’ part as makes it halfway down the staircase, the scent of guild members (and those that aren’t quite a part of it, but might as well be) alerting her to their presence first before she actually saw them, a deep frown setting itself onto her features. Oh good. Brand would practically have to push her down the rest of the way before she’d go any farther towards the rest of the group.

Eirik is already among the patrons today sitting atop a sturdy wooden barstool. A perplexed look of confusion written over his features. Noted by the sight of silver hues idly staring into the pool of frothy liquid inside the cup before him. It had been a rough few days. The random fight with those bugs, finding Meri, and gathering the required support to make sure she was properly healed. Mind also dwelling upon a particular topic of conversation he had with his tattooed friend. Emriths song is only a backdrop to the world he finds himself in; being here for a length of time himself. He had yet to approach him or even speak to the man yet. Most likely because the Northman found himself lost in a huddled crowd of people - most glued to the show the man was performing. Eirik didn’t enjoy idleness. He especially didn’t enjoy contemplating a talk with Lionel, which he is still not sure he should have. Regardless, as that band of brothers, and sisters mind you, make themselves known, the Rosfjorian native pulls himself from thoughts. Was there a meeting here today? Meri is noted, but she also only receives an awkward glance in return. Perhaps things would be odd for a while? Lionel, is addressed much like Meri, with nary more than a gaze. As previously thought, it seemed that a meeting was to take place. Evidenced by Khitti also joining the crew. A sigh exits his nostrils unsure if his stance on that subject has shifted. Though he watched the group, he does not get up to join. Perhaps at a different time. Instead he is content to hang back for now.

Dominic || / || Brand and Khitti are on the stairs when the Catalian hears those magical words: “It’s high time we got ourselves a ship.” He’d already wanted a drink from the bar, but that particular phrase was enough to push him -- and Khitti -- downstairs with more haste. “None of that frilly nonsense like was on the ship we got here in,” Brand called as they descended. The transport the two of them had taken to Rynvale had doubled as what Khitti had called a ‘tourist attraction’ -- and Brand had hated every bit of it. It wasn’t right, butchering a ship’s function for the sake of a prettier form. Wasn’t right at all.

Kreekitaka was here for other business. Figuring it had been altogether too long since he visited the island, he headed out here after a return to his home city to reassure his populace that he was in fact still alive. He'd had to beat down a few uppity upstarts who believed themselves to be capable of taking him down, thinking him weaker than he used to be. They had very quickly discovered this to be very much not the case. But now he was back on land, checking to see how his wares might be selling--he'd made deals with a few merchant ship captains. Figuring a good place to locate them might be the local bar, he headed over there and discovered that it was rapidly filling with guild members--including Khitti, who he'd been meaning to speak to. What a shocking coincidence. She--and others who hadn't seen him in a while--would notice a few things. First, he was out of his wheelchair, and was once more fully-ambulatory. Secondly, depending on how recently they'd not seen him, they'd notice that he still bore injuries--a few of his paddles were still outright broken, and there were long, deep scars over his carapace where it had broken and been resealed. But the regal kilt and cape and the way he carried himself were unmistakable--Kree was back in the game, cats and kittens. He started making his way towards Khitti's and Lionel's side of the establishment, having missed the initial words about a ship in the general din of the bar but knowing an important conversation when he saw one..

Emrith looks over at those already assembled, taking in Kreekitaka as well and giving the Uyeer a single dubious head-shake before he speaks. "A ship would be a good thing, but the word in the city is...mixed, to put it nicely. I have been around, doing what I can to try and improve the opinion of the citizenry about us. Some seem to think that if we had not come, then the threat would not have followed us." Emrith snorts a soft, derisive laugh, lifts his glass and takes a swig of the contents; some sort of honey mead, and not truly to his taste, but it'll do. "Foolish, the lot of it, but it is what they think, and short of beating sense into them - a course I am not in the least fond of - there is no way to change their mind. We are going to either have to ask around, or will have to get help from someone one of you might know. I confess that my knowledge of ships, and my acquaintanceship with people who have that knowledge I lack, is going to prove inadequate." Emrith shrugs, his white cloak rippling as he moves. "So it will be up to the group of us, or one of you in specific, to avail us of what we require."

Meri is not here to socialize, as per usual, so it should really come as no surprise the tattoo artist says very little. She is here to listen and observe, at least this time there is a clear cut motivation for why she might be trying to nose her way into this meeting. She has connections out in Rynvale, a business here, friends and so on. Why would she not want to defend the island? It is this business as usual sort of attitude that keeps her from trying to get Eirik to join them or her from leaving the group to try and extend an olive branch. If only her motivations were actually what they seemed. There is a mild look of disappointment when there is one face in particular that does not make his presence known. Ah well, maybe this endeavor will not be as promising as she had hoped. The look is quickly gone, her attention snapping back to the words being spoken.

Lionel | As night falls upon Rynvale, skilled and acrobatic laborers nimbly scale lampposts and brighten the far-up torches to cast a reddish glow throughout the city. Yet in the wake of the recent skirmish, there are far fewer lampposts -- and fewer laborers, too. Odd patches of red blanket thin spans of the city’s streets, but there are vast expanses of darkness in-between. Brigands and cutpurses stalk these dark areas, turning a glum situation into a chance for profit. Unfortunately for some, cutpurses come in all shapes and sizes, and in all levels of talent. Would-be thieves are brought down by others of that same profession, far from the eyes of mercurial guards who might have been paid to look the other way in the first place. Like dominoes, unsavory men and women fall, from one stretch of Rynvale to the other. In the end, the problem effectively takes care of itself, and has no bearing whatsoever on the story of the Warrior’s Guild here tonight. Go figure. Lionel eyes Emrith’s honey mead and then peers awkwardly at his beer. He should have ordered mead. Dryly, as if underselling the extent of his bad fortune, he notes, “I’ve not had any better luck with this place. There have been a fair few who have thanked me, and thus, all of you by association, but none of -them- had ships. A couple of them were sailors, but they were confident their captains won’t book passage anywhere near anything to do with those bugs. I wasn’t going to lie about our destination, of course, and I can’t say as I blame them.” Brand’s words as he and Khitti head down the hall tug Lionel’s attention toward his fellow Catalian. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Brand, but I doubt a frilly ship’s captain would be any more willing, anyway.” It’s as well that several of his companions have just sat themselves down, because Lionel is already on his feet again. “To the docks, then, I think. The masters-of-arms will all be in bed before long, so haste is necessary. I don’t know why Lady Luck’s thought to be a woman -- etymology is strange -- but maybe she’s got one small smile for us before all is said and done.” He pauses briefly to regard Emrith, Khitti, Brand, Meri, and Kreekitaka. It seems he either hasn’t seen Eirik or he’s giving no hint of it. And then he makes for the door, into the night, and into those patches of red and dark stretches.

Rynvale: Intersection

Khitti didn’t seem to give one iota about Eirik’s presence and it seemed she was the only person that even knew he was there, thanks to those lovely vampiric senses. In fact, she seemed to ignore him altogether--frakking werewolf could go jump off a cliff for all she cared at this point--but still she stared on in horror as Brand forced her over to where Lionel was, and the talk of this ship. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d be stuck on a ship with Brand -again- so soon (and gods he just wouldn’t shut up about how awful it was), but also it seemed that awful crab just happened to show up and was also MAKING HIS WAY OVER TO THEM. “I’m starting to get zhe feeling I never should’ve left Vailkrin, “ she muttered just loudly enough for Brand, and perhaps whomever else was closest to her, could hear. Emrith was listened to, of course, and his words noted, but her frown never once ceased to be except for the teensiest tiniest half-hearted smile she managed for Meri and only Meri because she might actually want the woman to like her somewhat because, despite what unfortunate circumstances surrounded the redhead, Meri didn’t seem to judge her at all. Unlike -some- people. “No one’s gonna like anyone zhat seems to bring trouble vith zhem. No point in really trying to bring people to our side and make see truth. Anyone only ever vants to see vhat zhey vant to see. Ve do vhat ve need to do and get zhe hell off zhis island. Ve’re not here to make friends, Emrith. Ve’re here to kill. It’s vhy ve’re in zhis guild. It’s zhe only zhing ve’re good at.” Well, she’s sure in a chipper mood. Slipping away from Brand, and the others, she’d follow Lionel out the door without another word.

Dominic || Brand’s has no sooner gotten that drink he wanted and settled into a chair than Lionel is on his feet and off into the night. Well, okay. It makes perfect sense they’ve got to actually walk about in order to turn words of ship-acquiring into action. And it’s not like Brand isn’t excited about the prospect of tagging along with the guild (on a DECENT, PROPER ship this time, thankyouverymuch) and maybe lighting some more bugs on fire. But… drinking! Heaving a sigh, Brand pours his drink into his flask and takes it to go.

Kreekitaka realized the important conversation was rapidly leaving the bar, and turned to follow every everyone. Merchant captains could wait, he was pretty sure he was making enough of a profit off of them. This was guild stuff, it was important. "I happen TAH!oo be gooDAH! aTAH! many HHHTHings," he said, in rebuttal to Khitti's little spiel, pulling up alongside her since they'd have to go past him to get out the door anyhow. "I'm in HHHTHe group because iTAH! brings me gooDAH! fun. ReminDAH! me TAH!oo speak TAH!oo you in privaTAH! yaTAH!er abouTAH! HHHTHings." Then he turned his attention to Lionel, but didn't leave the approximate vicinity of Khitti. "I wish TAH!oo join you in your meeTAH!ing TAH!oo acquire HHHTHis boaTAH!. If iTAH! is TAH!oo be useDAH! TAH!oo fighTAH! anoHHHTHer queen, Io be wiHHHTH you."

Emrith troops out of the inn with his guildmates, listening to Khitti speak and casting wary glances in Kreekitaka's direction as he moves. The vampiric elf waits for her to finish before snapping his head in her direction, fixing her with a cold-eyed stare and accompanying it with a beat of silence. "If you truly believe that, then you discredit the lot of us, and yourself perhaps most of all," the spell-blade replies. "When trouble arises, whether or not we are the cause, and when that trouble gives common folk the impression that we might be doing harm, then we owe it to them, to the world at large, to try and answer for it if we can. If all you wish to do is carve a path through the things that threaten, then go join a band of mercenaries and see how much blood you can spill before someone's lucky shot takes an eye or bursts your heart. If I believed what you just professed, you would be dead now, and never mind the ire I would bring upon myself. Because you, Khitti, represent many things, and danger is only one of them. We are assembled because we can do violence and can protect those who do not, it is true, but we are here also because we care. We are here because the world is not fit to save if it is drowned in blood in the doing. We are here because we will support one another, and sometimes that means playing nice, playing the diplomat, instead of drawing steel and ramming it through the unfortunates who don't have the decency to lay down and die. If you can remember that, going forward, it might be to the good. If you can't..." Emrith makes a dismissive wave. "Then there is a city for you to get lost in, and we are likely not as much a fit for you as you might believe. We deal in terrible things, and if you so readily speak of bloodshed before all else, then you truly do not understand what it means to be a member of this guild of warriors." Emrith falls silent then, his face hard and utterly pitiless; his white cloak streams out behind him in a light wind. His heart hurts at the necessity for hard words, but it is better she hear this from him now instead of later, better to strike the iron while it hot than to let it cool into an undesirable shape which could prove fatal later.

Meri caught that half-smile from Khitti, breaking that poker face of hers long enough for red lips to turn upwards into a full and warm smile. No time for small talk, everyone is on the move and Meri was not going to be stuck sitting in the Barrel with Eirik. Heck. No. Sorry Eirik. As patient as Meri can be with the many accents she has encountered in the lands, or just straight bad grammar, Kreekitaka and his words earn him a perplexed look. It wasn't the hardest to understand that she has heard but it was probably one of the more eccentric ones. Emrith, Khitti, Lionel, Dominic, all of their words and points are listened to, the tail end of the discussion causing Meri to wrinkle up her nose. "I mean...She's not too off base. Lofty request you lot are trying to make. That's their freaking livelihood right there. And you want them to book passage to a group of people that do sort of have a reputation...And what do they get in return? A very probable chance that they are not even going to have a ship once this is all said and done. And then what are they supposed to be with themselves if they have no ship? I don't see chests of gold making promises to buy them a new ship if you sink it either...Bugs or no bugs...You think these boys are going to help you all out of the kindness of their hearts?"

Rynvale: Docks

Lionel nods along to Kreekitaka as the guild members and their psionic blonde ally make their way through the streets and toward the docks. So quick is his stride that Lionel is almost out of earshot of Meri’s pragmatic analysis, and Khitti’s bleak forecast and Emrith’s harsh rebuttal, too. He catches bits and pieces, though, though perhaps it’s for the best that he misses that bit about Khitti being dead under different circumstances. He grimaces at what he does hear, slowing himself down just enough to keep a more watchful eye on their banter. This is not the worst rigor of leadership, but it is far from pleasant. “We’re here because Lithrydel is a rough, flawed, painful and challenging place, but it’s our home, and it’s worth protecting, and there are people here worth saving. I don’t mind overmuch if some of you are here chiefly because you want to put muscles to work for an alright cause, just so long as that cause -is- alright. We’ve been through a lot together lately, and there’s plenty of stress between us. But we’ve got a job to do, and no matter what, I have every confidence in you people to do it.” Lionel is quiet for the remainder of the trek to the docks. Once there, he saunters over to the last man on watch and pleads his case. “Ye be damn right nobody does go due east,” the dockmaster informs him in a thick Rynvali accent, as if speaking of the most obvious things in the world. “Not since we did overhear ye do think there be more of them nightmares. Not a single ship does sail due east now. Not a bloody one.” Lionel frowns, straightening his back. “There’s good coin in it,” he counters, “and praise from Frostmaw’s Knight-Commander. Fresh ice peppers and plenty of moose, too. On a recurring basis.” Whether or not Frostmaw can truly afford such rewards, Lionel isn’t completely sure, but it makes no matter to the dockmaster, who waves it away with haste. “Ye do not be listening to the words that do be coming out of my mouth,” he says, with an air of finality. If any of the other guild members have a thought on how to properly coerce this man, now is the time.

Khitti didn’t even bother to look at Emrith during the duration of his lecture; she didn’t need to, she could’ve felt that stare of his from a mile away. Instead, she merely nodded at Kreekitaka, then finally set her sights on the elf once he’d finished speaking. She actually looked sad, in that moment that her lips parted to speak, “You understand nothing, Emrith Kohl.” It’s true, he really did know nothing, besides just a few things here and there, that pertained to any of the things going on in her life right at that very instant. Perhaps it was just another bad day, in a long line of many, for the former human. Perhaps she didn’t really -mean- what she was saying and was just a bitter woman. Odds are Emrith probably wouldn’t see it that way, however. She actually seemed grateful that she probably wouldn’t have to do any fighting today, unless it was with this dockmaster who seemed to not want to do a damned thing at all for Lionel. It seemed to be going nowhere fast and so, she stepped forward, giving a nudge for Lionel to move aside so she could speak. “Look. Ve don’t vant to fight vith you. Ve just vant to do our jobs so ve can leave, “ she’d say in a rather cool, even tone, despite the various emotions she was trying to hold back at this point. “Ve need a ship to get rid of zhe bugs once and for all or else zhey’ll just keep attacking and you’ll lose more zhan just a few roofs and buildings zhanks to zhem. Please...just let us do vhat ve need to. Take zhe money and give us a ship.”

Dominic || Brand’s got half a mind, as the saying goes, to steal a boat. That is to say, Dominic -- the other ‘half’ -- still operates as something of a conscience, whether or not the kid’s been bothered to make much of an actual appearance of late. Unless there are pirates or slavers about, he reasons, who’s to say the Guild has any more right to a ship than those that own it? But Brand takes this train of thought in an entirely different direction than his brain-mate intended. “Every harbor’s got its trouble with pirates and the like, does it not?” Brand asks the dockmaster between swigs from his flask. “I’m thinkin’ I’ve maybe got a solution as could please all parties. You let us rent out a ship, point us in the last direction you’ve heard talk of such a sort. We fight ‘em, bring your ship back to you, take -their- ship out to deal with the gorram bugs -- and you’ve got your ship, less foes on the waters and less bugs in our sky.” A shrug. “It’s still puttin’ a ship in danger but maybe not near as much risk to you and yours.”

Kreekitaka rippled his paddles as Emrith spoke, and then as Lionel essentially backed him up. Causes came and went, and one person's definition of a good cause was someone else's vicious crusading against windmills. Really, the only reason to be involved with this was because the fighting was enjoyable. As Khitti laid out her diplomatic entreating--which was basically the same as Lionel's reasoning--and Brand laid out an alternate plan--Kree saw another way forward. "If money is whaTAH! you're afTAH!er, I have iTAH! in -spaDAH!s-. If iTAH! is HHHTHe yiveyihooDAH! of HHHTHe owners, Io insure HHHTHem wiHHHTH my company. If you won'TAH! yenDAH! us HHHTHe boaTAH! for any reason, simpyee ouTAH! of mayice, Io fighTAH! you for iTAH!s ownership." He opened a claw and pressed the other into its "palm". "I am going TAH!oo win, if HHHTHis is HHHTHe case. However, I can assure you HHHTHaTAH! we are going TAH!oo be proTAH!ecTAH!eDAH! ouTAH! aTAH! sea." He turned to the ocean and snapped both claws together, then hit them against each other, then hit his elbows against each other. A massive fin breached the surface and slapped down into the water, not too far from their location--almost as tall as an entire ship itself. "I commanDAH! HHHTHe greaTAH!esTAH! beasTAH! in HHHTHe ocean, an' as saiDAH!, I am wiying TAH!oo insure HHHTHe crew an' HHHTHeir cargo in HHHTHe evenTAH! someHHHTHing goes amiss. I suggesTAH!, for your sake, accepTAH!ing our deoh. Because whioh HHHTHey may noTAH! wish for a fighTAH!, I am -more- HHHTHan wiying TAH!oo chayenge you for noTAH! onyee your ship, buTAH! your position." Uyeer diplomacy, ladies and gentlemen! A perfectly valid offer, coupled with a direct challenge. Pick your poison.

Emrith nods once toward Khitti, a curt gesture. "Perhaps I don't," is all he says to her. In truth, he thinks he knows far more than she believes, but now is neither the time nor the place for a protracted argument. The man has made his point. Here, now, a fellow refusing to charter a ship. "I know the skill of runecraft," Emrith says to the Rynvalian man. "In the space of a few days, I can make any ship far more resistant to damage by inscribing runes across its hull. It is a skill I have had for a long time, and would remain long after the ship was returned safely from where we wish to take it. I cannot promise that it will be free from damage, but I can promise that we will do everything in our power to protect it. And it is indeed as Khitti here has said. Without our help, your problem will get worse. We intend to free you, and the world at large, from the menace. For your trouble, there will be gold, and a ship the like of which no one else will have...wood as hard as iron but not so heavy that it will sink. I might even be able to enchant the sailcloth, for both speed and durability. I will work tirelessly, if I must, to ensure that this vessel is peerless. But if even that cannot sway you, I urge you to think of those who cannot take to water and flee, of those who will lose their lives if no one acts against the threat we all face. Their blood will be on the hands of any who has the choice to act and opts to stand aside. You may well wake in the night with the screams of the dead ringing in your ears and the bitterness of guilt like bile in your throat. Is that a future you would embrace so readily, sir? Because were I in your place, I could do naught but flinch from such craven behaviour." Emrith lowers his voice, bows his blond head a little. "Please, sir. We ask much, but it is not without reason, and we will do everything we can to provide recompense for the harm we risk. There are various plans, pleas and suggestions laid out for your perusal, and I pray you pick the sensible path." Emrith glares warningly at Kreekitaka and says, rather softly, "If your bravado puts this man's guard up and causes refusal where else we would have been granted passage, then you and I will have words, regardless of the beasts you command and the intentions you harbour. Did you not hear a word I said of diplomacy?"

Meri goes back to silent, though her feet trail after the bunch so that the are kept well within earshot. Not one word of this barter between the group and the dockmaster would be missed, but from a glance it might seem like Meri's not paying attention at all. Blue eyes are scanning the water, the horizon, studying the details of the ships present, their names, the flags they bore. Offer after offer comes to the dockmaster from just about every member of the party....except for Meri. What? What is she supposed to give up? Free tattoos for a year? Hell to the no on that one. As far as this lot was concerned, that was the only thing that Meri had to offer up. She keeps quiet, everyone else can pitch their ideas and suggestions, there was no need to toss in one more to overwhelm the situation. Or maybe she was just selfish. Take your pick.

Lionel | Just seconds ago, the dockmaster was as cool and confident as a man who knew he had the upper hand and no time to entertain troublesome riffraff, no matter their exploits. Or perhaps in spite of them. Yet now numerous guild members are assailing him all at once, like the most insistent lineup of foreigners he’s seen since… well, since the insectoids. “Alright, alright, but ye do be an irksome bunch if ever I laid eyes on ye.” He dusts off his leather jerkin and marches westward, passing numerous ships along the way. He makes no gesture to beckon the guild to come with, but Lionel is matching him stride for stride, and he doesn’t protest. “But by the same token, ye do be talking truths. It’s just that Rynvale, well, she has too many truths just now, and too many truths that do be painful, ye see. Clear out those nightmares, ye said?” He raises his tone a bit as he shifts his gaze from Khitti and now to Brand. “And clear out pirates, too, ye did add?” The man lets loose a hearty laugh. Kreekitaka, of course, had threatened violent intervention. Lionel has spent the bulk of the uyeer’s quasi-diplomatic diatribe flailing his arms to and fro, mouthing the words ‘dial it down’ to no avail, but it seems this king crab has left an indelible impression on the man. Kree and Emrith, both, for that matter. “All of ye, every last one of ye, so many words. Oi, and me without my whiskey. I dinnae be wanting a tangle with ye, fair crustacean fellow, nor do I be seeking to lose sleep over dead that might be mine own fault if I say no, my elven friend.” The dockmaster and all those who have followed him down the planks will have reached the westernmost point, where a few more steps taken will bring only rocks and shoals and the sea to one’s feet. “Aye, but ye do seem capable. Being as I saw what ye did when we were attacked, and being as I am a betting man, I will wager that ye do these things, or die trying, and either way, Rynvale’s painful truths are… lessened.” With a wide sweep of his open palms, he signals for everyone to tilt their attentions to the final ship on the line. The ship in question appears to be an oar-driven brigantine, retrofitted to enhance speed and maneuverability after an original service as some sort of small warship. The mainsail is gaff-rigged with a further square rig above it, and the main mast is aft, rather than near the bow like the various Rynvali craft docked nearby. It is lateen rigged on two masts and has ten oars on either side, although most of its original flourish is gone, revealing small battle cracks along the wood in the upper hull and dulled-out paints giving precious little hint of its origin. The only remaining hint is the ship’s name, etched large into the wood above the door leading to the compartments belowdecks. It’s barely legible, worn with time and whatever else has befallen it. ‘S.S. Tranquility.’ Lionel purses his lips. “This will do.”

Khitti sighed as not only Brand, but the crab, and Emrith all put in their two cents. Why did she even bother? A disdainful look is shot towards Kreekitaka and his threats, but she keeps her mouth shut for now lest she get another lecture from Emrith--though that’ll probably happen again sometime soon at this rate. Funny enough, the Shadow Plane was starting to look a lot nicer at this point than sticking around with some of the people that called Lithrydel ‘home’, but she’d not voice that either. Nope, instead, she sidesteps away from all of them and heads further down the dock ‘til she came to a stop right in front of the Tranquility to study it more closely. She was feeling far from ‘tranquil’ right now, but eye it she did as the others spoke amongst themselves with the dockmaster.

Dominic || Brand’s attention is wholly on the Tranquility, with her oars and her retrofitting and her beautiful battle-scars. He sees nothing else and yet still manages to clamp a hand on Khitti’s shoulder. “All seven hells, but I’ll be a gorram star ranger.” Wherever he’s acquired such a strange turn of phrase, and whatever its original meaning, it is clearly made here as an expression of awe. “Now -that’s- a frakkin’ ship.” He calls over a shoulder to Lionel, never entirely turning his gaze from his new seafaring love. “Damn right, she’ll do. And dibs, by the way, should the Guild not need it after.” But, Brand, you aren’t even -in- the Warrior’s Guild. And you live in Frostmaw; what in blazes are you going to do with a damn ship?!

Kreekitaka turned a confused look to Emrith as the crew tramped down the docks towards the ship. "HHHTHaTAH! -was- DAH!ipyomacy! I offereDAH! him money, I offereDAH! him safeTAH!ee for his crew an' HHHTHeir jobs. An' I even offereDAH! him anoHHHTHer paHHHTH forwarDAH!, shoulDAH! he refuse our oHHHTHer offers--is fighTAH!ing noTAH! a way of seTAH!ying DAH!ifferences? I wasn'TAH! going TAH!oo mereyee beaTAH! him wiHHHTHouTAH! a formoh chayenge, EmriHHHTH. Such is unsporTAH!ing an' noTAH! a vayiDAH! way of performing business transactions." Knowing very little about ships, preferring his own mount underwater, he looked on the ship with moderate interest but was mostly concerned with why everyone seemed so affronted at his very reasonable business proposal.

Emrith tromps westward along the docks as the master retreats, following him at a few paces worth of distance, not meaning to crowd the man. When he has said his piece, Emrith bows, a rather more alaborate show than necessary under the circumstances, and his smile lights up his whole face. "You will not regret this," the spell-blade tells the dockmaster. He turns to Kreekitaka then, and there is something between exasperation and amusement on his face. "Most people see such a challenge as an affront. Perhaps you do not know this. But giving someone choices, and then telling them that you will formally challenge and beat them if they refuse, is really no choice at all. It is what we call a veiled threat, and it may work among your people but is not well-liked in these parts, by all accounts." Emrith falls silent, then turns aside to gaze out at the water and the ship resting calmly there. After a careful moment scrutinizing Tranquility, Emrith nods, and says to none in particular, "Yes. I can work with this. I will have to fetch my tools, but I can outfit it with at least some protective runecraft in a relatively short amount of time. Tranquility must forge a path that does not suit her name, and she will either return a hero or die trying."

Meri was sorely tempted to just up and walk away without even so much as a goodbye to any of the individuals now that a ship has been secured. The tattooed woman frankly figures that if she is quiet enough, the rowdy bunch probably would not even notice her slink away. Khitti managing to break away from the group delays Meri's imminent exit. Booted feet carry her over to Khitti, bringing her to a halt right next to the woman. Her gaze comes to rest on the ship the fighters will be taking out to sea but the words that fall past red lips are clearly meant for the woman next to her. "You and your man should come by the shop sometime within the next few days so we can chat, 'bout what we started talking about in Frostmaw. Come after hours. No other reason than it'll be quieter than us trying to talk at the Barrel." Meri would only linger next to Khitti long enough to get acknowledgement either way on the invitation before nodding, pivoting about on the ball of her foot only to stride off.

Lionel finds Brand’s enthusiasm unexpected and infectious. Unlike most things which can be described as such, however, this brings nothing but much-needed amusement to the fellow Catalian. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love,” he voices just above a whisper, and he’s hopeful the light and cheer in his tone will ease Khitti in some small measure. “Emrith, if you need supplies for this rune-up job of yours, let me know. Or Esche. Or Anton. Kree?” He steps past the uyeer, patting him on the paddle. “Do give Emrith’s advice some thought?” He smirks, illustrating it’s in relative jest, and takes his first steps aboard a seaworthy vessel with far more history to her than he can know. For a moment, Lionel lingers, and then he pats the railing meaningfully, nodding to himself. ‘All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’ The phrase is old. So old. Much like the Tranquility, he does not know the origin. But it’s a good phrase. And a tall ship. The stars are in full panorama across the night sky, and somehow, it all feels right. “This will do,” he repeats, smiling to those gathered and then making his way back to the Broken Barrel.

Khitti ’s mood only worsened as Brand showed the strangest, most unfathomable amount of affection towards an inanimate object. Figures he’d only ever love a ship, and alcohol, and nothing else. The Catalian’s hand on her shoulder is shrugged away, and the cold shoulder she’d been giving him since Vailkrin resumes in all its frosty glory. And then Meri just happens to refer to him as ‘her man’. Nope, that wouldn’t do at all. “He’s -not- ‘my man’.” The verbal editing of Meri’s statement was short, sweet, and to the point, albeit with a bit of irritation that was in no way directed at the blonde at all. “But, alright. See you soon, “ the vampiress allowing Meri to head where she would. Lionel’s lightheartedness didn’t seem to help either, only made things worse for not long after Meri’s departure Khitti’d head off elsewhere as well, and it definitely wasn’t back towards the tavern. To hell with Brand, and Emrith and Kreekitaka, and Lionel too. To hell with all of them and this island and the bugs and the ship and fate and anything else the gorram ‘verse wanted to throw in her path right now.

Dominic || Today is a good day, Brand’s decided, in a month sorely lacking in them. Lionel’s jesting doesn’t bother him in the slightest; the man only scoffs and drains what’s left of his flask. The beat falls just before Meri’s words -- for which the lady earns a nod and a lazy salute -- and Khitti’s snark. His grin twists downward ever so slightly. “Who’s not a what now?” He’d not even processed the ‘your man’ part of Meri’s statement until Khitti rebutted it, and now he doesn’t know which side he ought to be protesting. Khitti’s made her opinion clear enough, though. Aaaaand she’s gone. And seeing as how he’s still meant to be playing babysitter, he supposes he ought to follow. Sigh.

Kreekitaka grunted at that. "I was offering a risk assessmenTAH!. HaDAH! I noTAH! recommenDAH!eDAH! HHHTHe beTAH!er option for him, he mighTAH! noTAH! have chosen HHHTHe option which profiTAH!s him greaTAH!esTAH!." But people here called that a 'veiled threat', apparently. He -could- veil a threat, if he needed to, he supposed, but if he was going to actually threaten someone then why bother with veiling it? Just come right out and go Full Highwayman, at that point. Regardless, once the boat was examined--and noticing that Khitti was in a very foul mood and probably wouldn't be forthcoming about what ailed her at present--he decided to continue roaming the docks, looking for those merchant ships. Maybe they'd be here instead of the inn, or at least someone from the crew. "RegarDAH!yess, he bears me no grudge, iTAH! seems, an' we goTAH! whaTAH! we wanTAH!. So Io see you again soon, whenever we are reaDAH!ee TAH!oo yaunch for HHHTHe queen." And with that, he turned and was gone.