Thread: The Elementalist (Lady Nefrodiel)

Hyam was the sailor instructed to take the captive girl below, and he did so, promptly, with her unconscious form draped over one shoulder. He wasn't one of the strongest of the pirate crew, being short and skinny, but he was quick and fancied himself one of the smarter men. As he carried the girl below deck, he couldn't help but think about her in sexual ways. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, the last time they'd been to shore being 2 months ago. Hyam was tired of using his own hand to satisfy his urges and generally tired about a lot the things that had gone on under Captain Chuliandred's charge. He was sick of taking orders from that pompous scallywag who was really no better than any of them except that he owned the ship. But, even so, Hyam was weak willed and didn't have much of a back bone. So, no matter how much it ground his nerves, he complied with orders and did what the Captain said, following along in resigned tolerance. He couldn't really stop himself from wondering if Captain Chuliandred would allow the men a chance to rape her--wondering if he, himself, would be allowed to, specifically--but he doubted it. That was a privilege the Captain usually reserved for himself, the greedy bastard, and Hyam sneered derisively at the thought. When he got to the brig, another pirate was already there, an even lower man on the food chain than himself, Mutch . With all of the men on board and Mutch's common physical appearance, he wasn't really missed during battles or the general workings of operating the vessel. The Captain probably didn't even know he existed. Hyam gave the skinny man a glare, thinking to himself how pathetic he was riding everyone else's coattails while he hid below deck and never contributed anything to being part of the crew. But, really, Mutch considered them to be friends, being too stupid to understand when he was being taken advantage of and even more weak willed than Hyam was. The only reason Hyam kept Mutch around was because it gave him someone to boss around. As he walked among the iron grid cells, holding the girl, Mutch stood from where he'd been sitting leaned against a beam, tucking the small bottle of rum away in a pocket conspicuously. Alright! he said enthusiastically as Hyam neared him. Prisoners! Was it a big haul? He was always concerned about the treasure they got from raiding other ships, because he rarely got a big cut of the spoils for obvious reasons. You would know if you'd been there, Hyam said smartly, with a sardonic smile. He chose out a cell for the girl and plopped her body onto the ground inside the cage. Get me some rope. Oh, yeah, sorry, Mutch said lamely as he jumped to follow the other man's orders. I...had a headache from bashing my head on the bunk above me when I woke up. He brought over a long bunch of rope that had been hanging on a nail in a beam. I figgered I'd be more of a detriment to the effort than any real help. He laughed a little, not like he thought what he'd said was funny, but in a way that suggested he hoped Hyam would be amused. Sadly, he was not. Hyam jerked the rope from the other man's hands and briskly began to tie her arms behind her back in an aggravated manner while the other man just stood by and watched. Scratching the back of his head at the other man's silence, Mutch decided to change topics. Hey, she's pretty nice looking, he said with a suggestive smile--as suggestive as Mutch could get with those dull, bovine-like eyes. Do you think Chuliandred will let us have her? As he pulled the binds tight on the girl's wrists, Hyam stopped momentarily to answer the man in a dry tone. I think Jaichim will keep the little witch all to himself, just like he normally does, leaving the rest of us to suffer, he used the Captain's first name when he could get away with it, just as an added show of disrespect for the man. Oh, yeah, Mutch said as if that hadn't occurred to him until just that moment. You're probably right. He seemed disheartened by that, but not much. The man was too dimwitted to get upset about anything it seemed. Finishing up the knot, Hyam talked angrily while not looking at the other man. Every time we get captives, it's always the same. He orders the crew not to touch her and then takes her alone to his chambers. I'm sick of it! One of these days... And he stood up frustratedly, knowing that his threat was hollow even as he said it and hating himself for being such a push-over. But Mutch didn't understand Hyam's weaknesses to him they might as well not even exist. He thought the man was serious when he ranted about overthrowing the Captain some day and in his small little mind, Hyam could very well do it. Yeah, he said nodding enthusiastically, following Hyam out of the cell and talking to him excitedly as he locked the door. It's unfair how he treats us. We should stand up to him! Mutiny, aye? I'll follow you whatever you do. He was serious, but in reality when it came down to it, if Hyam stood pointing his gun at the Captain, confronting him, Mutch would probably be down here drinking rum. Hearing the man agree with him as if he were making plans to actually do it, made Hyam feel even more pathetic and worthless. Shut up, Mutch, he said irritatedly as he stalked from the room, the plain featured man following close behind with a confused look on his face. ----------------------------------------------- As the woman talked, Captain Chuliandred stood confidently, his body swaying easily with the tipping and slanting of the ship but frowned when mentioned his change of decisions. Don't feel sorry for them, he said glaring at her slightly. My decisions always benefit them and they're thankful that I take advantageous opportunities. He looked around the ship briefly, making sure there was not argument in any of his men's faces. He did make good choices for them all, and they knew it. He listened to the rest of her talk with a reserved patience. Why did noble-people always feel the need to blather on? And it made him feel insecure thinking that. If that was the way they talked to each other and were talking to him like that and he wished they'd just shut up--it was like he was rejecting their attempts at intelligent conversation. His internal annoyance at their flowery speech probably proved them right when they thought they were better than him. And the way that twisted irked him considerably. When she was done talking, he ignored what she'd said, forfeiting any attempts to sift through to find the important points to respond to. Instead, he changed topic. You brought the medallion, aye? Come with me. He motioned for her to follow him as he led the way to his chambers below the quarterdeck. The men standing around silently cleared a path for the two as they made their way towards the gilded double doors on deck. He opened the door for her and waited for her to enter, then uttered curt orders to his first-mate before following her into the room and closing the doors behind him. The room was richly furnished with a large desk against the far wall, a polished wood table in the middle of the room, with two chairs positioned by it and a four-post bed with lush sheets upon it, and a good sized wooden chest at the foot of it. Everything in the room was nailed down, of course and there was a fancy carpet on the floor and a few pictures on the walls. When he entered the room after her, he glided past her and took a seat at the table, apparently relaxed. He held his hands before him the fingertips touching, making a small bridge together. So, tell me about it, he said interestedly. It is the Inzolim Medallion, is it not? What does it do and how does it work? He looked at her as if he expected answers and would not tolerate any attempts to lie or change the conversation with her well-bred words. He would give her the chance to answer him of her own free will first, but if she proved difficult, he had plans to make her more complacent.