RP:Sargaso Joins The Compass

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Cenril Beach

Characters: Crisien and Sargaso Summary: Sargaso finds Crisien and joins the Compass.

Sargaso has spent the past few days asking around the Cenril port for Crisien. Those who recognize her name point down piers and alleys, grunt directions that send the paladin on fruitless goose chases. He's starting to suspect that Ansel clown may have been off his rocker. What, with the jump suit and the "magical" compass whose North is treasure. Sounds about as real as a vegetarian kraken. Today is the last day he'll keep chasing this siren's song. The siren probably doesn't even exist.

Cenril and Rynvale were apparently second homes to Crisien, these days. The promise of treasure was what kept her bouncing from port to port, and, predictably, it was what found her having a heated, less-than-polite altercation with a would-be captain. "Y'can't expect me t'take y'seriously with prices like that," she seethed, fingertips idly flipping a miniature silver compass over in her hands, "I could hire a flamin' warship f'that, and it'd keep me safe from those dratted seaborn folk." The woman with whom she was speaking - a curvy, toothless, single-winged avian - rolled her eyes and waved a hand. "I'll go and ask the crew again, but no promises."

Sargaso eavesdrops on the feud between Crisien and the avian who's allergic to dentists. He grabs a random net and starts picking algae and barnacles off the criss-crossed rope. "Hey!" calls a fisherman's apprentice, but Sargaso silences him with a silver. "I'll return it soon. Give me space," he whispers. The boy hesitates, gives Sargaso the once over, and nods as he backpedals towards Whaler's bar. Sargaso drags the net a little closer to Crisien and sits on empty fish crates. When the avian leaves, the paladin makes his move, taking extra care not to come off as creepy. It's a tricky skill men struggle to acquire, that of approaching strange women on the street -- or in this case, pier. "Ahoy, miss." Sargaso's mother smacked the word 'lass' out of his vocabulary. "Selene's blessing be onto you. Forgive the interruption, but I have a question about your compass there." He nods towards Crisien's hand. "Did you get it from a miss named Crisien?"

Crisien's muddy brown eyes narrowed lightly as she was approached, performing a silent scrutiny of Sargaso. Before she answered him, she seemed to remember something and stuck her head up... in a manner akin to a meerkat. "An' tell Huit I don't want him aboard," she yelled at the avian's retreating form, "Light fingers aren't 'ppreciated, especially when I'm payin' f'ya t'steer the blasted ship!" A beat later, and those eyes were back on the stranger. "Answer for an answer," she bartered, lip curling ever-so slightly, "I'll tell y'where I got the compass, if y'tell me what y'know about sailin'." Her head canted toward the net, before she looked expectantly back at Sarsago.

Sargaso is more than happy to oblige any conversation about sailing, kayaking, the sea, and, especially, Selene. "A fair deal, miss. I grew up here in Cenril, right on these docks. At a young age, found my faith answered in Selene. Serve her to this day. I've sailed, mostly for cargo ships between Cenril and Rynvale. But I don't need a ship to get to the sea. You see, my mother was of that race who could live on a seal-skin kayak, should their situation ever become so dire. I'm proud to say I continue that tradition to this day." Suspecting this is Crisien, given her evasive answer, he remembers something his new acquaintance Ansel said and tacks on, "Oh, and if you are this Crisien, a lad named Ansel told me to mention his name."

Crisien regarded Sargaso as he spoke, expression betraying her intrigue - eyebrows creased together lightly, and her grin broadened. "Excellent," she said, mostly to herself, "I have no idea what that means. You can, er... turn into a boat?" As the stranger name-dropped, her demeanour shifted slightly - she trusted all the folk she'd recruited, implicitly, and thus their judgement. If Ansel had sent Sargaso to find her, Crisien assumed he was at least somewhat trustworthy. "He did, did he?" she posed, eyeing the single-winged avian as she argued with her crew. "Yeah, I'm Crisien. What can I do y'for?"

Sargaso laughs and shakes his head at the idea that he can turn into a boat. "Not quite, but I suppose that's how it looks from the outside. Rest assured that my kayak is a separate vessel altogether, but when I get in, I suppose you're right. It does look like an extension of myself." He laughs again and mutters in amusement, "Turn into a boat. Hah." He's pleased that uttering the name Ansel elicits a positive response. You never know who annoyed who, dumped who, crossed who, etc. "A pleasure, miss. I am Sargaso, not sure if I've said that yet. And Ansel mentioned that your company hunts treasure. I'm hunting treasure too, only that somehow related to the sea. I'm collecting artifacts for a collection to be displayed at the Temple of Selene." A holy man's version of a treasure horde.

The ins-and-outs of how Sargaso managed to sail weren't particularly important to Crisien. The point was that he -could- get her out onto the water. "Hm," she mused, still contemplating the idea of kayak-man, "Well, s'long as y'can get me t'the middle of th' ocean." A beat. "Last time I went sailin', I, er... well, let's just say there was a new sunken ship for future treasure hunters t'explore." As the man revealed his intentions, Cris held out a hand for him to take. "Hm, non-selfish treasure huntin' motives - that's a new one, but I can work with it." Meanwhile, her free hand ducked into her satchel and revealed a small, silver compass on the end of an intricately woven chain, "Y'can join my company, if y'want."

Sargaso shakes Crisien's hand and comments on his motives, "I'm glad you see it that way." His eyes shine with a slightly wild look as they eye the compass. Greed, zealotry, hope? It's hard to say what the compass inspires in him. The kayaker hasn't quite figured that out himself. "Thank you for your faith in me, Crisien." He reaches as if to grab the compass but waits for the sailor to relinquish it before he takes it. Once that transaction has concluded he recalls something unrelated, but fun. "By the way, my roommate and I are throwing a house party at the shacks right here on the beach. All are welcome. This Sunday. I'd like to see you there if you have the time."

Crisien smiled wryly as Sargaso accepted her handshake. "Let's hope it's not misplaced," she commented, relinquishing her grip on the compass. "That'll get y'in t'the headquarters - it's in the labyrinth underneath Gualon. Y'can try an' find it y'self, but..." she trailed off, lifting a shoulder, "I'd recommend gettin' someone t'show you." As for the party, the hunter chuckled briefly. "If I'm not on some kind 'f hunt, I'll be there," she said gratefully, "I'll even bring you a bottle 'f the finest rum in the lands." Read: she would pinch one from Tristram.