Thread: The Salty Air We Breath(Erit and Eva)

The Eternis Inferna made port at dusk, to the sound of many whoops and hoots from much of her crew as their boots hit the dock. The exception, of course, was the man currently known as Captain Hawke, who made his way down the gangplank with a heavy, deliberate slowness. There would be no leisure for him, at least for this evening. While his men went off to the pretty women who liked money more than purity, Hawke made his way to the one he knew would give him as fair a bargain as can be found in a wretched hive of scum and villany such as this, a woman known only as the Mistress of Thieves, or Ma'am if in her prescence. She'd given him quite the offer for his ship before, and though it was need of some sprucing up she doubtless wanted it all the same for the reputation he'd earned it. As the sun went down and the city came alive, he reached the set of mismatched double-doors that signified her place of operations. He knocked twice, handed his gun over to the serving-girl who opened the door, and then went to the sitting room. He was still on his feet, standing alert when she came, a woman with straight black hair like a raven's feathers and ice-blue eyes. Certainly, more than a few men wished she had more than just equipment for sale. And more than enough had lost something more valuable than gold to ensure that such desires remained private. Ah, she clapped her hands together as she gave a small sigh, my most valued customer returns. Here with more trinkets to barter away? Or perhaps you're looking to reminisce about old times, mm...? Hawke's expression remained statuesque and neutral, though a scowl flickered across it at her last remark. I would rather not remember why ye make that offer. He strode stiffly over to one of the three chairs in the room, resting his hand on it's back and rolling his colossal shoulders as they writhed under the memory of flame and flog. He screwed his eyes and took several breaths before continuing. I'm 'ere to bargain for a ship Inferna has served me well, but needs repairin' which I can't sit around for. So, if ye 'ave any well-fitted ships in yer possession, I'd like to know. As it turns out, she did, and soon they were down at the docks inspecting it. It wasn't exactly quite so classy as his old ship, but was well-crafted nonetheless. She's called Marquis of Dawn . A fair bargain, considering the repairs that Inferna will be needing. Hawke, however, was not quite paying attention. Shouting nearby was a commonplace event here, but it concerned him because he recognized the voice of one of his own men in the hubbub. Fair enough, aye. I'll take her, now if you'll excuse me... Taking his leave rather hastily, he pushed his way through the crowdan easy task, since many simply made way for someone of his sizeuntil he found the particular building from which the quarreling voices originated. Sure enough, a youth from his crew was arguing with some other fool over a whore. He reached into the shouting match and picked his subordiate up by the scruff of the neck, extending an arm to the other one as a shorthand for keep back. He frowned, a tired sigh rumbling the earth beneath his feet, as he spoke to the cabin boy, Well, now. What seems to be yer problem with me 'ired 'and here, sir? 'E say somthin' stupid again? He turned to adress his crewman, You know I hate when you boys say stupid things, Eric... He scowled down, cutting quite a figure of intimidation for the runaway child who couldn't even grow a proper beard yet, who had stowed away on his ship one day months ago and, rather than be killed, begged to join them. The boy spoke up fiercely, quite capable of ignoring his fear when he wanted to, saying Well how was I s'posed to know this old buzzard'd want her? Way I see's it, I was here first, so I should get her! Hawke cuffed the boy's ear, growling like an earthquake. Ye hardly even have yer first chin-hairs yet, sprat! He roared, quite the deafening sound for anyone within arm's reach, a roiling thunderstorm riding atop an avalance. Now get! He pointed down to the docks, where they were moving supplies onto the Marquis . Yer the watcher tonight! Eric, trembling under suddenly-shot nerves, set off at a shaky trot. Hawke glared at the greying old man who'd been the other half of the problem, before pulling out his pistol and shooting him. As the other man fell, Hawke growled out Only I yell at my crew. Anyone else care to disagree? He reloaded his pistol as he spoke, glaring about at the crowd, most of whom were doubtless either too frightened by or too familiar with him to dare cause him trouble. There were sometimes exceptions, though...