Edoric Thatch - One Delusional Pirate

Sailing in on a tiny airship dinghy, Edoric Thatch held his rough, brown hair aimed towards the sky with the pride that one would expect from the admiral of a Leviathan-Class Battleship. Tall and charming, the air of adventure (if not recklessness) hung about him as his black eyes, full of pride and confidence, looked towards the future. The wind gently blew his two Steambreaker swords against his legs like kittens playing with a hanging thread. Enjoying the days of his youth, the pirate captain laughed to himself as he took a sip of kumis.

In other words, he was completely fucking delusional. The tiny barely-airworthy airship gently drifted towards the airship dock with the grace of a duck who’d been given a bullet to his feathery bits. Edoric ignored the fact the balloon was slowly leaking and his ship was sinking in the air.

While others would brand him as a pirate, he prefer the term Gentleman Pirate. Dressed like both a noble and a airship pirate, he held himself to the “Rules of being a Gentleman Pirate.” No one knew how many rules there were and if it was just another thing he could make up on the spot.
“Rule number 41 of being a gentleman pirate your head high.”

At the age of 31, he had build himself quite a formidable resume of piracy. His crack shot aiming gave birth to tales of him being able to take out engines from a mile away. His sword spun stories of him capturing ship by beating the entire crew by himself. His magical banana on the other hand… Edoric said that he was still working on a book for that.

He had personally sailed from his flagship, the Chrysanthemum Throne, to the port of Alabion. He planned to once again go into the Fog and he need more things. More manpower, more weapons, more ammunition, more supplies, more alcohol, just about everything a pirate ship need to stay in working order. He'd also need to find a place to get more metal and cloth. Having an airship down in the civilized world was bad enough, having go down in the Fog was a death sentence if you couldn't repair it. The Fog Monsters would tear you open and eat you alive if you weren't well-armed enough. And that's excluded the Giants who also lived deeper in.

Reaching the outstretched dock of the Airship Dock, he began throwing assorted objects into a large wooden chest. Tool kits, spare bullets, extra clothing, his collection of pictures of various gravure idols and pin-up girls, the magically frozen banana sometimes used as a weapon, and a bucket of paint amongst other things.

“Excuse me, are you going to pay-“ the Harbor master began only to be cut off by Edoric.
“Oh, mind helping me lift this?” Edoric slammed the top of the chest down.
The Harbormaster gave him an eye, “Excuse me, I am the Harbormaster, not some docile servant?”

Edoric jumped up on to the floating dock, curiously looking at the planks wobble as he landed on it like a child. After hopping on the wood a bit more as if to test it, he turned to the old Harbormaster and said, “Correct. You are not a docile servant, but a senile old man slaving away for someone else I suppose.”

“W-w-why you…” the old man’s face wrinkled even more then it already was as he turned a lovely shade of purple.
“I would recommend you to change your career, perhaps a goat herder?” Edoric stole a cart from a passing couple, “I hear goats are all the rage these days.”
The old Harbormaster stormed off as Edoric hauled his chest on to the flatbed cart. The old wooden create had seen a long life with the thin dinghy, Edoric almost felt like he was separating a family, but he had no family to compare the feeling too.

“Sir, you must pay the docking fee.” Edoric felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he saw the face of a younger, but sterner man dressed in the same manner as the old man from before who was now standing behind the new serious man, a smug look hung on his face.

Edoric ignored the duo and pushed his cart forward, waving the men off, “I haven’t heard of any docking fee.”
“Sir, you have an airship parked on this dock, do you not?” the man’s voice was flooded with anger and annoyance as he pointed to the tiny dinghy that seemed to be sinking even at the dock.

Edoric stopped in his tracks and with speed that could make birds jealous, he spun around on the heel of his boot. His long coat swept up in the wind and revealed two flintlock pistols in holsters that would otherwise be hidden. One single, swift motion of his hands and one of the pistols now found comfort in his hand. With the crack of the gunpowder, the tiny airship’s engine exploded, Edoric shot is own vessel.

“What vessel do you speak of?” Edoric asked as the cabin of the airship plummet to the ground below in a fireball as the hydrogen in the balloon caught fire. The two men stared in disbelief at the fireball and the ensuing chaos below.

Edoric continued to push his chest on the cart down the jetty as he smiled. His feats of marksmanship were made possible by the magical artifact occupying what would have been his right eye, Black Cat’s Eye. It was something he had been forcibly given in his childhood after loosing his eye to an airship accident. While it did hurt when it was put in, it gave him many wondrous abilities:

He poked it with his finger, he could feel it tick and move on its own in his head and the gentle warmth of magic as he resumed walking with his chest, “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me.”

_____________________________________________________________

Edoric walked down the cobbled road as the tavern came into view, his chest of goodies safely stored away. He had been told that he could find shipmates to help him on his journey and Edoric decide to waste little time venturing to this city. It was humble little place, not too much to show on the outside. But as Edoric came to learn form raiding merchant ships, the outside doesn't have to be fancy for the inside to be filled with goodies.

He slowly trotted down the path and allowed himself into the fine establishment. The smell of an open flame filled his nose and the scent of alcohol soon followed. People of all sorts of background and status filled the seats and tables, Edoric spotted a few who seemed capable of operating an airship or knew how to fight. They drank to themselves or gambled away the coins. One elf even sat in the corner, ominously staring from the corner as he threateningly sharpened a quiver of arrows. Jumping up on to a wooden table, he thought to himself, Rule number 106 of being a gentleman pirate, know how to make an entrance.

He fired off his two pistols into the roof to attract everyone attention, “Heeelllloooo everyone, I’m wondering if any of you fine fellows would like to embark on a journey with Captain Edoric Thatch. I’m sure many of you have heard of my wondrous exploits.”

Annaveya Kushrina - The Western Cross

0054 Hrs. 12 Hours to Present Time

"Piracy you say?"

Came a mild voice as a setting of manila folders scattered themselves across a table made of steel. Smooth, nimble looking fingertips plucked them up from the table. Deftly filing through the pieces of collected intelligence, a pair of eyes inflicted with heterochromia glanced upward first to an attentively standing crewman. A light smirk played across her lips as the reflective bill of her captain's cap tilted downward with the further inspection of the report. Brushing a stray strand of platinum blonde hair off her cheek, she lightly set the folder down upon the table and looked up to the uniformed officer.

"Well, how much confidence do you place in this report?" She inquired first, looking curiously to the man.

"Ma'am, I would say with about fifty percent certainty according to our networks." He replied, while standing at parade rest; his gloved hands tightening nervously as the leather that made them cracked from the strain.

"You idiot. Why did you even bother to bring this to me to begin with?" She hissed seethingly in turn.

Annaveya's inquisitive expression turned to one of rather blatant disgust. Leaning forward to rest her elbows upon the table, she lifted the captain's cap from her crown as one golden eye and one sapphire eye stared down the officer. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as her fingertips folded together and her elbows came to rest upon the table. Strangely intense was the woman's gaze as she seemed to loathe the very expression of the man that faltered before her. Fifty percent was hardly conclusive, and she knew it all too well. Rather than dealing with Piracy, she and her bloodline were famously known for being exceptionally ruthless.

Places that pirates were known to linger had often been reduced to rubble by the Kushrina Mercantile Empire's capital ships. Places much like the one that sat so aptly described by the report sitting on the table before her. Yet their actions would have to be explained to the crown, time and time again. Bothersome bits and pieces that was diplomacy, really. While the Kushrina family practically owned the Heavens above, those of actual royal blood held the authority of the Earth. Unlike royals, the Kushrina family would be held accountable for their actions.

Rampant carpet bombing of a local tavern via a cannon barrage from a Kushrina ship was often frowned upon, even in the face of overwhelming evidence and certainty. Protests against their brutality when it came to protecting their assets happened often, but none could deny their effectiveness in such a measure.

Even still, fifty percent was a rather interesting number. Perhaps it was time for her to touch down and partake in some cat and mouse-like investigation once again.

"Officer, inform strike teams one and seven that we'll be going on an special operation. Subtlety is key here, after all."

With a fearful nod in recognition of her order, the officer bustled away nervously and left the Captain in her office alone once again. Still even then, she thumbed through the report, biting her bottom lip as she read the details. A fifty percent chance were not odds she liked, but it was enough to warrant closer investigation. Intelligence Assets had been falling rather short as of late, the Western Cross would have to discuss with her father about rescinding the current spies and replacing them with new, more competent ones soon enough.

---------------------------------------------------------------

1254 Hrs

Two hours after infamous Kushrina Ship so aptly named The Dawn's Guard had docked at the closest city to the Tavern, Annaveya stood in a small clearing of the forest where a gathering fourteen of men and women draped in blackened leather armor and subtle but sharpened weapons and crossbows stood. She herself stood proudly with a long crimson cloak whose edges were embroidered in gold. Upon her the outer portions of her thighs sat a pair of flintlock pistols, and upon her back hips sat a pair of solid-tang knives.

"You all know why we're here. We're going hunting." The girl spoke concisely, with that ever present arrogant smirk on her lips. Looking to each of the men and women who stood before her. "This is our standard maneuver, I will go inside and inspect what's happening. If there is an overwhelming number of pirates, you will receive a signal within the hour. If it is one shot, that means we're moving in and being careful about the shots we take. If two, practically the entire tavern is filled with the rats. Execute everyone on sight. Understood?"

A resounding grim nod through the masses acted as acknowledgement of her order, of which there was only a final one. "Surround the Tavern, form a perimeter. No one gets out without use seeing to them first. Pirates will be executed, civilians will be set free. I will begin the infiltration once the perimeter has been set."

With barely a whisper of wind, the fourteen dissipated into the wild, leaving Annaveya standing there as she casually made for the nearest road through the forest. Along the deep ingrain of wheels against the dirt she would travel nonchalantly, looking inconspicuous as the dim lights that marked where the objective existed slowly but surely neared. She took her time, as the small strike team silently and stealthily dipped through the darkness to get their positions. Through the tall grass, they crawled, covered in mud and bits of the surrounding environment to remain invisible, in the shadows they would remain patiently in wait.

As she strode from the edge of the road into the tavern's clearing, there was a crickets chirrup three times in swift procession. It was a signal from their end. All were in position, all were simply lying in wait as the Captain casually made her way up to the Tavern's front door. Keeping her hood dipped low, the girl would meander towards the tavern's front bar and then she would slide to sit upon an empty barstool. Lofting a finger up to order a drink, the beautiful looking woman would order something that seemed a bit strong for someone of her supposed ilk.

"Whiskey, on the rocks please. If you don't mind." Was her request as slid the hood off her head to bring the platinum hair falling about her shoulders and mid-back. All the while, she listened, eavesdropping on conversations that lay scattered throughout. Listening for key words, or perhaps oddly spoken tongues for the sake of code and secrecy. It would only be a matter of time before she discerned whether or not this place needed to disappear or not.

God help them all, if she chose for them to no longer exist.

Patiently she sat, waited, and listened. Rotating the amber scotch in the colander slowly in her wrist, she partook in only a light sip of the sinful liquid on occasion. After all, there is a special place in hell for those who do not savor good whiskey. Concise as ever, her ears caught little of any piracy trafficking or talk, only of the nonsensical conversation of common blooded and less adventurous folk.

As it turned out, the intelligence report was rather filled with nonsense. For which she managed a sigh of relief. As much as she despised Piracy, the killing of others who weren't involved had been alleviated. For that at least, she was thankful.

However, the calm nature of the little tavern rapidly changed with the zealously grandiose eruption of the one who identified himself as Captain Edoric Thatch. While she didn't face him directly, she smirked arrogantly. After all, in the search for the scum of the earth, who would have thought for even a moment that one of the rats would fall into her lap?

Out of the corner of her golden eye, she watched him gallop about the tavern like a fool. Perhaps in madness, or perhaps in some way to show his cleverness or ability; needless to say, the actual Airship Captain was less than impressed. So she stood, carefully remaining within his shadow behind him as she slid smoothly forward. Her feet as light as a feather while she came up behind the supposed Pirate "Captain", as if he deserved such a title to begin with.

For first time that Edoric would notice the Kushrina Mercantile Captain was the very moment that he felt something cold and hard press against the base of his neck. With it came a very audible click. Marking the sound of a Revolver's hammer being drawn back. Not a split second later, a similar hardness was found at the base of his spine; with a second click of a hammer being cocked and ready to fire if she simply twitched a finger.

"Edoric Thatch, I presume." She softly spoke, ever concisely. "I'm sure you know who I am, well, if you saw my face anyway. But no matter." While the revolver aimed at his spine didn't move, the one upon his neck moved forward. Just past his ear as the flintlock cane snapping down. With an uproarious sound, the shot fired a bright red flare into the distance through the opened door.

Whispers on the wind marked the movement as the fourteen paramilitary members swiftly closed in their perimeter. Four of which swiftly moved with feline grace into the Tavern as Annaveya holstered the first revolver and instead drew a razor sharp knife. Holding it at the ready, she nudged the Pirate forward.

"Shall we take a walk, Edoric? I believe that we have some business to attend to. Primarily that I'd rather not put a grapefruit sized hole through your gut in front of all these fine people."

Edoric hadn't been in a bar this lively in quite sometime. Seconds after making his grant arrival, fellow law-breakers joined his side in a dance of joy and folly while those who didn't stray too far from the line of the law gave him spiteful looks and resumed their drinking as if he wasn't there.

"Rule number 37 of being a Gentleman Pirate," Edoric held a his mug up high, "Know how to have a damn good time lads!"
A chorus of cheer sent cups and mugs up into the air as another round of ale was passed around. The pirate captain wondered if this was what is was like to actually have a crew of many fine men who'd risk their lives for the glory of gold. Perhaps these gents would make a fine crew to venture into the Fog.

As he paused in his dancing to take a break from the festivities that had now taken over the bar, a hand gently fell to his shoulder before grasping on to it like a hawk. Edoric could tell that it was none other than the delicate hands of a lady, but why it had the strength of an angry father who had just caught Edoric with the lady who turned out to be the daughter, was beyond the pirate as the air became tense. A soft, pretty voice drifted into Edoric's ear, "Edoric Thatch I presume? I'm sure you know who I am, well, if you saw my face anyway. But no matter."

"I've seen the face of many a women my dear, care to show me your's so I might be able to remember it?" Edoric nonchalantly said before feeling the barrel of the met his spine, "Feisty I see."

The tavern went silent as the girl raised another pistol and shot a flare right out the open door, a fairly pudgy man who had just walked in dived into a potted plant to evade it. As he was marched out of the establishment, the festivities stopped and the tarven went silent. The party leader was just pulled out rather forcefully by someone unknown. It was probably in everyone's best interest to return to some level of sanity in case they were the next to be pulled out.

Edoric felt the wind meet his face as they step outside, the girl swapping her gun for a pointy knife. "What where you point that thing love, wouldn't want you getting hurt." Edoric made as passing remark that seemed to be ignored as four armored men came out from under the shrubbery. Each of them where in black leather and carried crossbows; Edoric scuffed. He'd been held up by stone-armed muggers who looked more threatening. Escaping should prove itself an easy task. Just get the knife away from the girl, use her as a hostage, use her pistols to shoot some of the hired muscle, kill the last two with his own weapons and probally nail the girl to a tree with the crossbow bolts or something before running off.

"Shall we take a walk, Edoric? I believe that we have some business to attend to. Primarily that I'd rather not put a grapefruit sized hole through your gut in front of all these fine people."

"That would certainly be painful." Edoric cracked his finger, "Rule number 72 of being a Gentleman Pirate, always have a way out."

With that, he grabbed the magically frozen banana he had kept in his pocket and swiftly turned around and smacked the girl with it. As she fumbled from the shock of being hit with an enchanted piece of fruit, one of the hired muscle shot his crossbow, which Edoric easily dodged. This is easier than I thought it would be, he thought to himself as he begain to out run his captors.

As he began to run towards the horses, escape right in front of him, something hit him, hard. Apparantly there were more men still hiding in the bushes that he didn't account for. In a split second, he was tackled to the ground and before Edoric could even curse, a solid fist-to-the-face knocked him out. His last fleet thought before blacking out, Dammit, I should have had one last pint, or maybe a woman, I guess discounts at the market wouldn't have been too bad either. I need more oranges.

Annaveya Kushrina - Pirate's Company

Smoothly, the events transpired initially how she preferred them to. Parading the Pirate outside and into the open field, her fingertip tensed momentarily upon the trigger. She smirked lightly, there was nothing quite ending the already shortened lifespan of a privateer akin to Edoric. Much to her liking no less, it were much like how one felt crushing a bug beneath their heel.

To her however, he was even less than that. Violent bastards like him were the reason why that her family had been forced to fight back. Then again, foolish little gnats like him were also the reason her family had become so inventive and successful alike. After all, there is nothing that forces invention quite so well akin to desperation.

Desperation and cunning, both of which helped her family escalate to incredible lengths of naval strength, mercantilism, and outright power. In the end, it is only the Crown that overshadowed the Kushrina's presence in the skies. Thankfully both sides were on more than amiable terms, especially when the Kushrina fleet continued to be one of the main suppliers, and even reinforcements to the Royal Fleet in times of need. Though such need was only rare, it often came to a great profit for her family.

That didn't matter now, what did matter was that the moment she was about to pull the trigger, Annaveya suddenly found herself under assault from a...banana? It struck her in the side of the neck and she stumbled, causing her to reel back about furiously just in time to see one of her company strike the fool in the back of the neck with a crossbow.

Much like the useless sack of potatoes he was, the Pirate collapsed in an unconscious heap. Furious as she was, she had to give him credit. It took either a desperate, foolish, or brave man to try and flee from the numbers that surrounded him. That aside, it didn't matter. Unconscious or no, his life was forfeit unto her. Striding angrily forward, she bent forward to press the cold barrel of the pistol against his forehead. Thinking of how his funeral would be a closed casket ordeal in flight over the sea amused her, until a thought occurred in her mind.

The entirety of her intelligence assets concerning the Tavern had been completely incorrect. Subtly, the hammer drew back upon the pistol again as she contemplated this. Slowly, a scowl grew across her lips as a man's life lay in the balance.

Maybe he could be of additional use before she murdered him. He was a Pirate, he was due to know more of them; and there was no honor amongst petty thieves when their well-being was in balance. She had experienced such time and time again, after all.

"Pick him up." Came a softened command from the Captain, glancing to the surrounding fourteen. "Strip him of his weapons and dignity alike, even down to the smallest fabric. Bag his head and tag him. He's coming with us." Awkward silence followed her at first, some of them looking at her in surprised disbelief; after all, it had been the first time the famous Kushrina had shown any quarter to a Pirate. Even upon surrendering, most had been executed on the spot with absolutely no mercy.

Even still, the soldiers loyally followed her order. Stripping him down to his basic garments and taking his weapons from him. Restraining him to a litter via a series of ropes, the marched with the unconscious Pirate in tow back towards the main city.

Two hours passed, and the massive dock complex that the Kushrina Family controlled could be seen in the distance. With the long, spear-like noses of the Viltgance Airships and the absolutely massive nose of The Dawn's Guard poking out from their maintenance docks. Far beneath them, the thousands of Kushrina Mercantile maintenance employees went about their work devotedly, for the pay they were furnished was quite commendable to say the least.

Up the walkways the group draped in black climbed, and not longer, Edoric would find himself in just a pair of underwear, no clothes at all, inside of a steel cell barred by a thick steel door. He was in holding, a prisoner of the Kushrina Mercantile Navy.

Inside with him sat an unarmed Annaveya, with one leg folded over and her elbow resting on her chin, amused as she watched the Pirate stir and begin to wake. She was an odd ethnicity to behold, as it were one so closely aligned with her family line. Deeply tanned skin, crimson eyes and platinum hair beset upon a fair figure and even fairer face. Her beautiful voice curled forward in her family's middle eastern accent as she addressed him curtly.

"Welcome aboard The Dawn's Guard, Edoric Thatch. I trust you find our hospitality to be quite satisfactory?" It was a mocking, teasing question, to which Annaveya still held her light smirk. He had no mattress, no pillow, only a chilling metal board welded to the wall for his bare back to lay upon. "I come to you with a, well, unique opportunity for people like you. Would you care to hear it?"

"Ah yes, I've been rude. I never introduced myself properly at the Tavern. I am Annaveya Maria Kushrina, Captain of The Dawn's Guard, and Western Cross of the 2nd Kushrina Mercantile Navy Battlegroup."

Edoric Thatch - One Sassy Imprisoned Pirate

Edoric's soul must have gotten lost on its way to heaven, since when he woke up, he was still groggy as all hell. He recounted his steps. He followed rule number 106 of being a gentleman pirate, making one hell of an entrance. Then some iron dove came by and marched him out like some convict, in which case he resorted to rule number 72 and escaped... Ahh, it made sense now.

He remember his face being introduced to something, presumably a fist and his last thoughts involving women and cheap citric fruits. Judging by the smell, he was on the prison cell of a merchant ship. He could smell the ship's previous cargo mixed with the scent of doom and gloom of his prison cell. Although, a more mysterious smell was also close by, it was... exotic to say the least. It smelled of natural sun and warmth that had been swirled around a delicate perfume of wild flowers. It was like someone had created a flower garden in the desert.

As his eyesight returned to him, his Black Cat's Eye wasted no time in adjusting the darkened conditions. Feeling the chill from his lack of clothes, the musky cell he was in not much too different from a high-security prison he had been in. Escaping that place was easy, rile people up enough and they'll break down a wall or two. He had a feeling that doing that wasn't a viable option here. The room was small and dark, like someone made a closet out of metal and added a slab of pig iron to the wall and added the clunkiest door they could find to bolt on the entrance. Being perfectly honest, it was better then what Edoric had been sleeping on before; old, rotting wood exposed to the elements.

As his normal eye regain full vision, the room became more clear and he could now see what was the root of that warm, flowery smell. From his corner, he saw a beautifully tanned lass with fiery crimson eyes smiling at his current situation.

"Welcome aboard The Dawn's Guard, Edoric Thatch. I trust you find our hospitality to be quite satisfactory?", She laughed has Edoric had regained the sense of feel in his legs, "I come to you with a, well, unique opportunity for people like you. Would you care to hear it?"

He tried to get up, but realized noto only was his wrists bound, he ankles were to. After trying many awkward posistion to hopefully allow him more movement, he flopped down in defeat before returning to a sitting position.

"Ah yes, I've been rude. I never introduced myself properly at the Tavern. I am Annaveya Maria Kushrina, Captain of The Dawn's Guard, and Western Cross of the 2nd Kushrina Mercantile Navy Battlegroup."

"That's lovely Anmarina." Edoric combined the entirety of Anna's name into one word, "I'm Captain Edoric Thatch. Captain of the Chrysanthemum Throne, I'd like to request you release me so I may continue explore the Fog as its mighty difficult running a ship half naked from a prison cell. Although, it is more comfortable then what I've been sleeping on for the last day or two, so I'd rate your hospitality a soild 7 out of 10."

Edoric looked down at his unclothed body, "Also, if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just asked love. Or are you trying to explore a new fetish of tying men up?"

Annaveya Kushrina - The Western Cross

The Naval commander simply sat and listened patiently while the Pirate went on a little bit of an annoying speech. Her intentions was to simply get a yes or no answer, but this one seemed completely incapable of simply shutting his mouth. On and on his drivel went, until at last he asked if she had a thing for tying people up. His ship was gone, he was a prisoner on her ship, and he still had the gall to try and insult her like that?

She had to admit that he had guts at least. Or he was simply insane. The answers to these choices probably varied greatly.

But no matter, her slender arms simply folded in front of her as she finished for the mad Pirate to complete his little speech. Once he did, the Merchant simply rolled her eyes for a moment before finally speaking back to him once again.

"A simple yes or no to my initial question would have been preferred." She stated upon the forefront, her crimson gaze never fading from the least from the annoying little man who stood there. "I don't care about your ship, or what you're looking for. As far as I'm concerned you can either give me the answer I want, or I can have your dead body hung from the gallows on public display."

Raising her fingertips, the Anna simply rapped her knuckles upon the steel door that divided Edoric from the rest of the ship. A metal shutter from the viewing port jerked open, and just the tip of a barrel jutted out just past the bars. The sight of which was lined up upon the tied and bound pirate. Annaveya however, still held her hand raised, her fingertip pointed towards the heavens.

"On my command, this fine gentleman will put a hole the size of a grapefruit through your skull. Let's try this again, shall we?" She leaned slowly forward, a hawkish gaze being cast down upon the captain as she simply stared him down. Like a bird of prey looking upon a rat, he was little more than a piece of dispensable piece of filth. Resting her chin leisurely upon an elbow as she sat, she continued. "Answer my first question. Whatever drivel you were going on about can be mused over later. Are you interested in an opportunity to actually survive, or not?"

"Answer quickly, or I'll carve out your one good eye and feed it to the birds."

Edoric Thatch - One Cold Pirate

Edoric looked at the girl and her fingers pointed at the heavens. He was severely doubtful a pistol would be able to produce a hole the size of grapefruit. He knew that most pistols, unless loaded with scrap iron instead of bullets, would create something smaller but just as citric-y. Maybe be a lemon or a mandarin, but not a grapefruit.

"Love, I'll accept your offer." Edoric sighed as he shook his chains a bit more, "But, I can survive anywhere, love."
He got up slightly and sat on his knees as he shook his hair out of his face, "I want to know if I can thrive."

As the room fell slient, nothing but the low howl of the wind could be heard and felt. Then Edoric sneezed, almost hitting his head against the hard wall, "Also, can I at least have my clothes back now? I prefer not to get hypothermia."

Annaveya Kushrina - The Western Cross

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as the Pirate agreed to accept the opportunity for survival that she had set before him. Success was always a wonderful thing to enjoy, and by any measure this man might have been insane; but he was certainly no fool. When he asked if he would possess the chance to thrive, the smile faded ever slightly. For now she had only a long prison sentence planned for him instead of a premature death after she no longer needed his services.

However, he didn't need to know that.

Asking for his clothes then, the Kushrina Mercantile Naval Commander snapped her fingers just once. At her command, two things happened. First the door creaked open to allow her absolute leviathan of a companion inside the prison chamber. Genie was her name, and Anna's nails lightly scratched the space between the Direwolf's ears. A crewmember poked his head inside, a recently demoted intelligence officer no less as a nervous inquiry came from him.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Lieutenant, find this man's clothing. Strike Team One will have taken them and searched for any contraband. Bring everything to me, as each article of curiosity will be questioned. Maintain his weapons in the Armory for now, but I believe we've found your replacement."

The younger Lieutenant glared furiously at Edoric for a moment, absolutely disgusted with the fact that such a ragged, unprofessional appearing man was going to take his spot. His glare however, was interrupted by the rapping of the silky hand of his commander next to his ear; causing him to jump as he was met with a harshly critical glare from Anna.

"Hurry up now. I'd rather not see me forced to have you lose another rank in front of your peers." The Commander stated with a subtle impatience marking her lips.

"Y-Yes ma'am! Apologies."

He darted away then, leaving Annaveya's focus to return to Edoric as the door was latched shut once again. For a long moment, her fingertips idly scratched the back of Genie's ears down unto the thick scruff of the Direwolf's neck. Assembling her next thoughts, the absolutely vicious Captain stopped the ever satisfying scratching dealt by her nails unto the massive hound.

"Ah yes, now that we have a little bit of quiet. Edoric Thatch, meet Genie. She is my loyal Direwolf, and she practically holds an almost equivalent rank to a Lieutenant Commander on my Ship. Tread lightly around her, her eyes and nose don't ever miss a thing." Lingering upon that last word for a moment, Annaveya folded one satin leg over the other and rested her arms upon them, leaning forward to look at Edoric.

"The opportunity before you is this. My intelligence assets on the ground have proven them unreliable too often as of late. While I consolidate those issues and eliminate them, I hereby request your assistance in locating, identifying, and eliminating Pirates. Their threat while minimal to my fleet, is still viable to my mercantile sections. The greater measure by which you assist me will be given with greater reward. So, depending on your actions, you will be granted a chance to thrive.

Her continued detailing of her offer was interrupted with the opening of a door a second time. In bustled the unhappy Lieutenant, settling a pile of neatly folded, repaired, and cleaned clothing beside Edoric. Then, a burlap bag beside that of Annaveya full of various items and knick knacks were set beside the Captain. She stood as the door slammed shut again, and she unsheathed a knife from the back of her waist. Holding up the hand signal for Genie to remain still, the Captain strode across the short distance to Edoric.

Reaching up with her knife, the tightly bound ropes that held Edoric's wrists and ankles fastened tightly together were cut through rather easily like a hot knife through butter. Backing away from him as she sheathed her knife and sitting once again as she sheathed her knife, Annaveya looked from him to his clothing as if the point was simple enough.

"Your rags are repaired and cleaned. Enjoy. Get dressed as I rifle through the remainder of your belongings."

Most of the basic nonsensical trinkets he had were simply set aside as something else caught her curiosity. A folded, precariously cared for piece of heavier parchment. It felt older, more peculiar than anything else. Perhaps this might actually be worth addressing Edoric about.

Tossing it in front of him as he continued getting dressed, the Northern Cross had but only one question for the Pirate.

"Now that business is done, what is this?"

Edoric Thatch - One Teaching Pirate

Edoric looked at the Direwolf as the angry young man brough in his clothes and presumably his belongs in a bag. Pirates hunting pirates eh? Almost like cannabalism. Edoric thought as the girl cut off his bindings. He rubbed his wrists and stood up, standing taller than Anna by a good head or two. He faced the corner of the room as he slipped on his shirt and pants along with the rest of his outfit. Rule number 40 of being a gentleman pirate dictated that one should only change in view of a lover.

Buttoning up the shirt, he heard Anna dump the contents of the bag on to the floor. "Hey, careful with my stuff will you?" Edoric buttoned his cuffs as Anna rifled through his trinkets. He checked his boots and his chest piece's straps as the tinkling noise stopped and Anna asked, "Now that business is done, what is this?"

Edoric turned around and with one swift move, he slipped his arms through his coat and caught the heavy parchement packaged and smiled, "This, love, is what will help me getting my treasure."

He dropped to one knee and rolled it out, revealing a pristine map despite how old the outside looked. Behind the fading parchment was a series of thin wooden strips, colored and etched to show current borders of nations along the edge. However, in the middle was a series of rings, each one getting smaller in width as it got closer to a golden ball right in the center.

At a first glance, the rings made very little sense. The lands etched into the moveable rings where on no normal map and gibberish marked along the edges of the rings where they could be turned. The sharp black ink stood out against the fading, but still clearly visible lands. The words looked like some form of alien language as if something other than mortal branded its language on to the scroll.

"What is this?" Anna questionably looked at the map, "This map is horribly wrong. Only the outside seems right and even then its still off."

"Lass, that because this is no normal map. This is a Fog Map. One that lead you to it to be precise." Edoric fiddled with the rings, "It leads to everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The marks will become word if you so wish them to be and the lands will become real."

Edoric twisted two of the rings and the words "The sky is of fire, purging those unworthy" from what was random ink marks seconds ago. Turning a different ring, the words disappeared into unreadable script and disconnected shapes formed a solid, noticeable land. Aging red, decaying green, and faint yellow formed connected land piece with no strange edges or unrealistic ends.

"Its said that one will never see the map in the same way twice." Edoric looked to Anna and smiled as he once again moved the rings.

"It doesn't make sense." Anna eyed the pirate and his ancient map, "What good is a map that never shows the same place twice? And its impossible for that to be true."

With that Anna reached over and turned the rings to the exact spots she remembered Edoric had them. Her slender fingers danced on the old map as she nudged it ever so gently to get it exactly right. But to her surprise, Edoric was right. Even when she had turned the rings right back to where they were, there was no more connected land mass, no more words that formed from the incoherent markings.

"See lass? This is what gets you to the edge of the world." Edoric leaned over and lifted Anna's hand off the map, "But this is how you travel into the veil beyond."

He folded his hand until only his index finger was out and pressed the tiny golden button in the center. His hand glowed a faint blue in some strange ruin. As he lifted his hand up, the mark shimmering through his glove, the rings followed his hand as if they were connected with invisible strings.

Anna drew in a curious breath as the rings became thicker in mid-air, and it flipped itself by a 90 degree angle and parallel to the wall. One by one, the rings slowly began to un agin themselves and continued spinning gracefully. The final result looked more like a gyroscope then the original map. The rings where golden and so beautifully crafted, there was no way mere mortal hands could ever hope to forge such a thing. Even the colors of the landmasses went from their dull and fading colors, to being vibrant and glittered faintly as the gyro-map move about.

"This is a true Fog Map, one that will guide you in the deepest regions." Edoric whispered as the Fog Map's rings rotated along contiguously moving axis, it a beautiful thing that only few people knew how to read, "This map will never show you where you are in correlation to the world, it will show where the world is in correlation to you."

"That makes no sense." Anna questioned Edoric as she stared into the gently moving map, unconiously moving a hand to touch it.

The gyroscope suddenly moved back and its rings rotated like a flustered chicken. "Love, everything makes sense if you don't think about it." Edoric said as Anna moved her hand to chase after it, the orb dodging all attempts, "The map choose who is worthy enough to be its master. You, who have never even been in the Outer Layer, are no where near worthy enough to have its respect."

"Pft." Anna scoffed as he retracted her hand and the gyro-orb returned to floating above Edoric's palm.

"With this I can find things that no one else will ever touch. This is what will lead me to thrive in this world lass." Edoric stared into the center of the twinkling Fog Map, "I am searching for an magical item said to be able to call down the sun as a weapon."
As if on its own, the orb transferred itself back on to the ancient map and the pirate captain's hand stopped glowing, "All things considered, this is very viable to your mercantile sections and possible the sections that no ordinary person ought to know."
Rolling up the map and tucking it under his arm, "Now I want to ask you something, how much do you trust me if I were to lead such a venture?" Edoric bowed, "With your 'guidance' of course."

"And how do I know you won't stab me in the back and run off to what ever rat hole you came from?" Anna rested her head on a clenched fist.
"Because of two things. One, rule number 62 of being a gentleman pirate says no deceiving women." Edoric swept everything on the ground back into the bag and slung it over his shoulder, "Two, if you do allow this, that 'rat hole from which I came' is the first place I will have to visit."

---

_{“But those were all out of my reach… o-ho, I know, I know…”}

He was talking to himself again. Or, to be more exact, to a corpse which he was under the impression was sitting in a chair, listening to him ramble on.

“I mean it’s not as if I could have just… ASKED them, right?” He called out, pacing left and right before turning to the slumped-over cadaver with a bottle of liquor in hand. “No, no, stop, stop, you’re NOT… LISTENING to me, I’m TELLING you… _{there was no other way!}” He slowly arched backwards and let out a chuckle, before promptly downing the last of the liquor. He wiped his beard after he finished and continued to speak. “Oh but don’t you worry. I’ve got a plan, I’ve got a plan! I’m gonna… h-hold on a minute… _{I was gonna… no, no, that wasn’t it, not the sails…}” He paused for a moment before laughing once again. “Slipped my mind, I guess!” He said through gritted, nasty teeth. And then he decided to have another sip of the liquor, only to be met with a drip from an empty bottle.

_{“What…”} He muttered, peering into the bottle with his one bloodshot eye. He looked down at his very dead friend and said, “Did you… REALLY drink the last of it?”

No response, of course.

His eye widened as he let out a yell, running forward and smashing the bottle over the dead man’s head, then proceeding to repeatedly stab the shattered remains into his decaying scalp. “THAT! WAS! MINE!” He said in-between stabs, “IT! WAS! ALL! SUPPOSED! TO BE! MINE! AHHHHHHHHHH!” A few more frantic jabs, and the body’s scalp was a nice, black, pulpy mess. The man reared back and panted for a moment. After one last exhale, he said, “You… need to learn… some MANNERS…” He marched forward and pried an old pistol from the man’s coat holster. “I’m keeping this ‘til you apologize.”

He turned and proceeded towards the door, exiting the once-captain’s cabin, and slamming it once he was outside.



Gutters strolled along the wreck of the airship, suspended in the midst of the fog along a row of jagged spires. There was no above – and certainly no below – that he could see were he to peer over the rails. He stumbled along in a suitable drunken fashion and said aloud, “A drink! A drink, oh, what’s a man without a drink…”

It was then that he keeled over, and his facial features began to contort wildly, accompanied by same gnashing and gagging sounds. He quickly stood back up and began to call out to the empty void of the fog.



He proceeded to fire the pistol up into the Fog above him a few times as he continued to yell.

Lord knew if anyone was out in the Fog to hear him.

Lennard

Lennard slowly woke up this morning with the taste of insalubrious rum which still abruptly stained his mouth from the night before of heavy drinking, another night that deserved the utmost disdain and ignorance which served as an escape from his delusional reality that was his former life. It was the anniversary of the attack on the 'Skyreacher', a large vessel battle-airship Lennard Bronnard Elias Kliemer the Third once belonged to when he was serving his country during the Great War 5 years ago. A ship that crash landed behind enemy lines. Lennard, as well as 5 other survivors out of the 2000 who served and worked on that ship, was the sole survivor of that crash and one of the only few who survived the insuring events that took place afterwards. A eventful memory in which Lennard tries hard to forget.

He could not remember his dreams, nor would he want to for his drinking had simply helped permit any memories of the past that could ever creep up on him as this served as an excuse to elude from all pangs of the reprehensible past that still haunted his memory. The crushing memory of severed ties between friends as he had to watch them die during that terrible event.

Lennard opened his heavy eyelids to breathe in the conscious, fresh air the morning would bring and caught the glimpse of the morning sky he saw from the window of his room aboard his air vessel. Across from him, was his paneled window which overlooked the yon, crisp valley and deep cliffs of the misty vale below. A peaceful sight for a concerned, disturbed mind as sunlight soaked the pale morning sky with a small, charming delight. Beside the window, there lay a upright Piano made of cherry wood, a gift given to him as a gift from a dear friend (and fellow musician) from the music capital and on top there stood a statue of a long dead composer (who probably would be best if his name wasn't revealed) with long messy hair and a disdained, serious look on his face. The piano was the instrument Lennard admired the most, not just because it had a long history to his life but a place where Lennard can escape to in order to groan, suffer, and pour his despair at. He always held high confidence in his playing abilities and would sometimes play drunk in the taverns where he receives his drinks, surly the Piano was in all regards, both a symbol and token of expression.

While on the other side of the window, a map of the entire known world hung from his wall along with some blue tacks that marked the places he has ever been while the white ones represented the places where he would like to visit and the red ones, places he would most likely not want to visit. Mainly due to most probably: imminent death from vicious pirates who loathed him on that side of the world, from utter boredom, or from the Gods knows what lies beyond the treacherous fog which only a brave few have traveled deep enough into and come out with both inspiring and galvanize tales of danger and mystery. Tales which aroused feelings of exploring and delving into the unknown in search of adventure and what spoils that followed. Wanderlust they called it in the olden tongue, a feeling which also sparked thousands of other adventurers or opportunists to travel into the fog. Maybe one day, Lennard thought, he too could travel and his dreams of delving into the unknown could help him escape from the false, delusional world of pain and misery that plagued Lennard's mind from what he experienced in war. An escape from false reality. But little did Lennard know that these coveting desires would come true, and with such unexpected haste...

The Archadian Royal Fleet Valkyrie division was setting forth it was a long journey and it was finally nearing its end. On orders of her queen was to locate and convince the Kushrina Mercantile Company to aid in a group venture. Thus Freya found herself heading towards their last known location with a pardon in hand and most obvious money. They were after all they were a Mercantile company and as such would be paid for any aid given quite handsomely considering the size and nature of this project.

"Lady Freya we have the Dawn's Guard in sight shall we try to open radio channels?" Hearing the message Freya shook her head from her thoughts and gave a motion to continue. They were still in the so spotting the Dawn's Guard was mere luck in her opinion still I wont frown upon such fortune.
"On my orders lower speed and first send the message of peace I would like to avoid any hostilities today." She ordered it was standard procedure after the Highwind was a large class ship from the Archadian military it would cause a lot of people to panic.

"Open channels once more so I can send my message" She commanded once more as she brushed a stray piece of hair away. "Kushrina Mercantile upon orders from the queen we are here to open up talks between us to discuss possible involvement for a project. We do not mean to harm but would rather talk in peace. Upon my name as Freya Hildegarde Sylfair the 28th none of my crew shall fire upon any of your ships unless attacked first. I would rather have a peaceful talk aboard your ship so we may discuss this venture in a more appropiate setting." Closing the radio channels Freya let out a small sigh and leaned back in her seat it was out of their hands now it was now more up to how the Kushrina reacted to said missive.

Annaveya Kushrina - The Western Cross

This Pirate wanted to lead her on this risk-filled venture of what could very well be a wild goose chase. Narrowing her eyes as he continued to incessantly talk about that may lay beyond the edge of the Fog itself, The Western Cross didn't seem amused in the least. This little bauble of a map, and its ever changing state drew her suspicion, but then there was the allure of something else entirely.

Such a lure was the thought of flying through the fog. Challenging her and her aircrew's abilities accordingly, and perhaps even opening up the first trade routes to the scattered villages that lay within. Not to forget the unbelievable rumors of relics and riches that also remained hidden in the dark.

Whistling slightly so that Genie would understand the command to stand by Edoric, Annaveya's eyes fixed the entirety of her focus on the Pirate as she began to speak. It was a simple matter for the massive dire wolf to tear the man apart if Annaveya chose. For it had not been the first time she had utilized such a tactic with prisoners; for information or simply because the Pirate had attempted at her life while he was in the holding cell.

"Alright, but if you think you'll be leading this little expedition, you're completely mad. For now, we're about to launch. On your feet, we're going to the bridge."

Folding her fingertips behind her back neatly, she calmly strode out of the steely holding cell with both Genie and the unhappy Lieutenant close behind Edoric as they passed through countless hallways and corridors. Through crew quarters and maintenance support facilities, until at long last they arrived at a massive looking room with an expansive view of the outside world. As The Western Cross walked in while the massive Airship took to the air, the entirety of the crew stood at attention.

"At ease, back to work. I'd like to clear some distance in case we need to launch." Hurriedly, the men and women got back to work, studying weather patterns, insuring that the thrust to weight ratio was the amount required and the like. Akin to a finely oiled machine, the Kushrina Mercantile Navy was at work.

It did not take long for the massive Airship to be touching the clouds as it cleared the outskirts of the city. Nor did it take long for the high pitched whine of a warning bell to fire off.

One uniformed crewman came to her in a hurried run, moving so quickly that his feet barely touched the very deck beneath him.

"Ma'am! We have a vessel docked in a remote town to the starboard. Silhouette spotted at two kilometers. No flag of country or company upon it!"

"Well, let's take a look shall we? Scramble Hrist Zero-Seven to fly with me, let's buzz by and scout it out." Annaveya stated nonchalantly, reaching into the seat of her pockets to pull out a pair of finely crafted leather gloves before taking a pair of flying goggles and having them hang about her neck. Then seizing her flight jacket and tossing it over her shoulder, she glanced carelessly to Edo.

"I'm not leaving you alone on my ship. Lieutenant, order quick fix a temporary second seat on my Corsair, won't you?" Nodding hastily, the man bolted off as The Western Cross motioned for Edoric to follow her. There wasn't much of a choice as two armed guards stood near him and simply ushered him to chase after the young woman. Delving into the deeper parts of the Ship, Edoric would soon find himself in a tightly closed compartment, with the canopy of a sleek, beautifully crafted Kushrina Fighter awaiting him.

Anna deftly swung herself into the front seat, and the two guards helped him into the back as her headset came on with the garbled radio communication coming over the connections to their ears.

"Control tower? This is Hrist Zero-One, prep scramble Launch for me and Zero-Seven. Possible Piracy activity two kilometers out to Starboard, requesting clearance to launch."

With a snap and bolting down of the canopy, Edoric would be trapped in the tight fitting cockpit as a high pitched whine announced the start of an exquisitely powerful engine that sat right in front of Annaveya. The sleek, small airframe was literally wrapped around this monstrous machine, and soon they were overcome with the roar of the turbocharged monstrosity coming to life.

"Zero Seven, do you copy?"

"Aye Ma'am."

"Circle about and level off with me at Port Side of The Dawn, then bank one-eighty degrees to observe. ETA on target is forty seconds at full speed."

"Copy that, Ma'am."

Finally at long last as the short chain of commands strung forth, the garbled radio voice of the control tower for The Dawn's Guard came over the headsets that both she and Edoric wore.

"Hrist Zero-One, and Hrist Zero-Seven, you are all green across the board. Good luck and good hunting." The moment that the authorization came through from the Tower, the solid floor that lay beneath them snapped sharply open and suddenly Annaveya, Edoric, and Zero-Seven fell from The Dawn's Guard like stones towards a lake. Once the nose pointed downward towards the earth as the two planes hurtled downward, their folded wings sharply opened in midair; and their descent suddenly changed.

Pulling up sharply along the Starboard side of The Dawn, Annaveya's beautifully crafted Fighter swing a wide arc about the massive Capitol ship as she circled towards the port side, gaining altitude smoothly as she heard the call from her wingman over the radio.

"Zero-One, this is Zero Seven, levelling off on your Port-Side."

With wisps streaming off his wingtips, her wingman's similarly magnificent craft rose sharply to meet hers, ceasing the collision course just as the nose of his plane was just a few feet from the tip of her wing.

"Alright Zero-Seven, bank one eighty to Port...now."

Simultaneously with her command, the two aircraft banked hard and flew just above her own capitol ship and tore across the heavens towards the small town in the distance. It neared incredibly rapidly, and The Western Cross' plane edged further ahead of her wingman's as her plane suddenly inverted and sharply turned downward towards the ground itself. Incredibly swiftly, the ground approached as at the last moment Annaveya pulled up the nose of her Corsair at the last possible moment. Being just hairs above the tallest treetops, Anna's plane whistled suddenly whistled past just a few feet away from the suspicious docked ship. So quickly was this, that even the tower it was docked nearby shook.

Much to her disappointment, it was no Pirate Vessel, that much was obvious. It was Lennard Kliemer's ship, someone who had flown beneath her family's escort once before. Another man who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty just like her. Pulling up sharply as she gained altitude, her radioed voice would echo through Lennard's ship as she rocketed through the clouds in a matter of moments.

"Afternoon Lennard, this is The Western Cross. Heading our way? If so, feel free to grab an escort courtesy of the Kushrina Mercantile Armada." Turning and banking then, another voice came through her headset once again. This time it was that freshly demoted Lieutenant.

"Ma'am, there's another request coming through."

"Detail it out."

"Archadian Valkyries, shall I decline or patch them through?"

Annaveya paused as she soared through the air and allowed her wingman to catch back up; what, if anything did the Archadian Military want with her? The last time they had met had been rather turbulent to say the least.

"Alright....patch us through. What's their location?"

"Ten Kilometers North of you. What of it?"

"I'll stop by and say hello. Zero-Seven, with me." Turning sharply towards the north, The Western Cross hurtled through the skies with her wingman close in tow as the Archadian's announcements came through on her radio. It was a peculiar request, wanting to meet the Kushrina Mercantile Battlegroup, and it was the first of their kind. Exactly what the Archadian Queen would want was certainly a mystery, but that certainly didn't stop Anna's curiosity.

As the Archadian Ship in the distance rapidly neared, Anna's command came simply for her compatriot that flew alongside her.

"Weave pass, I'll take port, you take starboard, meet back up just past their bridge." She said simply first, only to have her communication channel change to that of the Archadian frequency. "Good morning, Valkyrie Freya. This is The Western Cross" She stated first, her plane's wings going vertical completely as she passed just a few feet away from the Portside flank of the massive airship. Completely dwarfing the Archadian's speed, the Kushrina fighter roared past so closely to the bridge of Freya's ship that the glass that protected it from the outside elements rattled nervously.

To both possibly interested parties, the Kushrina Mercantile Captain would make an offer most wouldn't refuse across the military frequency.

"Follow us if you'd like. We'll slow down so you can keep up. Would you need a transport ship to carry you to The Dawn's Guard?"

@BluBaron45
[@ClocktowerEchoes]
@Suku

---

Gutters was situated on the deck of the airship still. He was seated on an overturned barrel that had rolled its way down the slight grade the crash had formed, against one of the mast poles. He was holding an old glass cup in his hands, rubbing it with his filthy rags for clothes, attempting to clean it. All he was doing was smudging it even more. He slowly grew an angrier and angrier look on his face as he checked every few seconds to see if his own face could be seen on the surface of the glass. And he never did.

“Don’t play games with me…” He said. To the glass. “I NEED this…”

Gutters continued to rub the glass, but it was to no avail. After one last, half-second examination, he yelled and threw the glass over the railing to his right. He panted a bit as he stared out into the Fog for a moment, then turned his head, lowered it, and cradled it in his hands. All the time he’d spent on this shipwreck, he’d been looking for reflective surfaces to examine himself with. There wasn’t a single intact mirror onboard. All the glasses were dirty and smudged. Nothing was good enough to use at all.

In the midst of his despair, something sounded nearby. Gutters’ gaze shot up as he looked onward to see a small creature creeping up over the railing. Wolf-sized. Looked like a little wyvern with gray scales. He didn’t recognize it, but for clarification’s sake, its locally known brand as a “cliffracer” will be used henceforth. The cliffracer growled at Gutters as it slowly planted itself on the deck of the ship. The man’s vision went wide as he stood up and laughed. “And where the hell have YOU been?” He said aloud, pulling out from within his coat the same old pistol he’d taken from the late captain. The cliffracer snapped its maw as Gutters inched forward, holding up the pistol, taking aim. “I have been… SO patient with you… but NOT anymore!”

The cliffracer lunged, and Gutters’ eye went wide. He gritted his teeth as he fired, striking the creature in its neck. It landed on him, pinning him to the deck and knocking the pistol from his hand. The wound disorientated it, and gave Gutters the chance to retaliate. He wrapped one of his arms around the cliffracer’s slender neck, and then he proceeded to brandish a rusty dagger from his coat pocket, and jabbed it into the bullet wound. The cliffracer thrashed about, attempting to break free. But Gutters kept an almost inhuman level of strength as he held the creature close to him, twisting the dagger and ripping up its throat.

The cliffracer’s thrashing quickly began to die down. Gutters’ scowl and grin slowly began to fade as he held onto the creature. Moments after it went limp, he shoved it off of him and stood up. He stared down at it for a moment, before he turned and walked over to pick up the pistol.

The moment he did, though… more growls.

He turned his head. Three more cliffracers had climbed up over the rails.

Gutters’ eye went wide, and he twitched some. He quickly threw aside the dagger and grabbed an old sword from one of the nearby dead crewmen’s hands and raised it up. The cliffracers encroached his position.

And he yelled.

Lennard

While still in bed, he gradually attempted to get himself out of bed as nonchalantly and as abruptly as possible. First were his legs and then slowly the rest of his entire body before promptly springing himself from his comfortable bed, nearly tumbling over from dizziness. Could he still be drunk from the night before? Lennard, thought to himself. He then took a while standing to collect his bearings, if he still had any while sober, as his senses came to him very slowly again.

The rotten, clear stench of the exposed rum gave his mouth an almost unpleasant odor, so much that Lennard gagged from both the odor and the unpleasant ingestion of over-consumption from last night's drinking games. Lennard rushed toward's his desk which lay only a few feet from his bed to grab a pint of water he left himself last night to wash away the foul smell of piss from his mouth, he then abruptly began chugging the fluid ungracefully while some drops of water began to trickle down his neck and chest. Finally, when the entire pint was empty, Lennard climaxed with a very sudden, uncivilized burp and with that small assessment, Lennard was back to the man he knew he was, completely free from any undesired hangover that might ruin his day-off today. Lennard soon closed his eyes to recollect his senses again, only to hear static from his radio system and then a familiar voice from one of the farmers from the village not to far from where he docked.

"Hey, Lennie-boy!", said the voice. The static soon dissipated and Lennard quickly recognized that the voice had belonged to the fisherman whom he habitually bought from on Sunday mornings. "Answer the goddamn radio, you fucking alchy!" Screamed the voice again, to Lennard, the tone of voice was an obviously urgent one. For once in his life did he ever hear the fisherman's voice raise so quickly and Lennard could not simply ignore it.

"What is it?" He casually responded, still gathering his senses from the aftermath of drinking heavily of the night before.

"There's a group of unsavory people heading your way! I can't tell who they are judging by their airships, they're definitely not pirates, maybe military! But what the hell would they be doing here?" Lennard soon quickly gathered his equipment while the fisherman began to curse and make useless conjectures on who exactly those people were.

"I dunno who they are." He paused, while assembling the rest of his equipment. With a long pause, he began to load his lever action rifle and cocked it while hearing the sounds of steam engines outside, getting louder with every second that passed by. "I guess there's only one way to find out. Lennard out." He then switched the radio frequency to one he had remembered from his years of being in the military, a frequency that military personnel most commonly use. After a few brief seconds of channeling through the radio for a signal, just when he thought he found the frequency, he thought of something to muster and say to the incoming ships that were approaching him but before he could even utter a single word, another familiar voice echoed through his vessel.

"Afternoon Lennard, this is The Western Cross. Heading our way? If so, feel free to grab an escort courtesy of the Kushrina Mercantile Armada." Said the voice, he then stopped to put the pieces together.

"Annaveya Kushrina..." He thought to himself and with a laugh of relief he paused to see what would happen next. Lennard could only think that the purpose of her visit must be, whatever it was.

"Follow us if you'd like. We'll slow down so you can keep up. Would you need a transport ship to carry you to The Dawn's Guard?" She said, Lennard soon dropped his rifle and rushed towards out of his room and into the cockpit of his vessel, turning the engine on while catching a glimpse of the grand fleet of ships that floated around him in the crisp morning sky. A sight that both excited and intrigued Lennard.

"Hello, might I ask what the purpose of your visit is, Annaveya?" Lennard said through the radio. He then smirked and then waited patiently to hear a response from the young commander while heating his engine up and getting ready to disembark from he port.

Edoric Thatch - A Pirate with a Hearing Problem

Edoric gave a sideways look to the girl, "I certain must be then since I certainly hope you aren't leading it then. I wish to put myself in charge since you and your crew clearly have a lack of training or experience in the Fog to lead a camping trip into the deeper regions compared to me and my own."

He got up and followed the Anna, who seemingly ignored his comment, as they marched him through the various corridors and halls of the massive ship. Edoric personally hated these floating cities of ships, they reminded him too much of his child slave life on the Kamluma Nights. Fond memories those were he thought to himself as he found himself on the bridge. Zoning out as to the thought of the market price of citric fruits, Anna was telling something important to her crew. Edoric heard something along the lines "something something something, alone on a ship, something something something, chair taped to a Corsair, something something IN MY FUCKING EYE."

Edoric probably made up that last part up, but once again he was marched up and down the halls until he was shoved into a plane. It wasn't like the ones he usually flew on his own ships, those where hand-made from scrap although they flew as well as any other. No, this was a factory made one, undoubtedly modified by some Kurshina engineer from afar. He appreciated the cool blue coloring of it, although it stood out a bit too much for him to want to actually use it.

He climbed on to the back of the plane and sat on the recently added seat. Even though it was bolted on, Edoric felt like duct tape could probably do a better job. As the plane took off and flew through the air, Edoric was once again lost in his own thoughts, ignoring the voices of both Anna and various others through the radio. He was hoping Galahad was doing a good job at keep everyone under control since he was away.

Shouldn't worry too much about my first mate, Edo thought as he took out a small flask from his pocket and pop it open. The golden whiskey brought something more important to his mind, How the hell do I get back to them though?

He looked around from the enclosed cockpit, the clouds seemed like giant balls of cotton with the darker ones being sizable bits of lint. Out of his bag, he once again brought out the Fog Map to amuse himself. He idly rotated the rings until words formed from the markings and runes.

"To go forwards, you must go back." Edoric whispered as he took a mental note.
"You're still playing with that" Anna looked over her shoulder at the man.
"Is there a problem with it love?" Edoric put down the map and leaned forward, "Are you really serious about this little voyage into the Fog?"
"Is there a problem with it?" Anna tilted the craft a little to turn, "And no, you are not leading."
"Do you distrust my reliability that much?"
"No, I distrust you with my ships." Anna cocked her head back to look at Edoric, "And the fact you are a pirate."

Edoric sighed as he rolled up the map, "I have a Fog Map and I know how to survive and operate in the Fog. I amd highly doubtful you and your men could do the same as me and my men."
"Then I'll just have you be a navigator."
"Wait a second, I'm Captain Edoric Thatch, not Navigator Edoric Thatch."
"You may become dead Edoric Thatch if I decide to hand you to the law enforcement."

Edoric slumped back into his chair, "I'm not making any decisions yet, but at any rate, I want my crew and my ships."

He had the wondrous feeling that this was going to end well.

"There is no need my ship can keep up and we will have a personal craft coming over to the Dawn's Guard shortly" Freya called over the radio. Walking away at a fast pace she laced her sword at her hip. She was planning on grabbing her rifle but changed her mind she was going in her formal armor there was no need for it. Placing on her her helmet and brushing aside stray hair she set out once more towards their "diplomatic" vessel it was a more showy piece than anything but like any of the archadian ships it contained quite a few secrets this one was well known for its speed. Meeting her on the ship was the head Judge Van. Van was going along since it classified as their jurisdiction as a diplomatic event beyond anything else.

"You ready valkyrie?" Freya heard Van call out from underneath his full armor plate and helm. Personally she never liked wearing her armor it always felt stifling and while it did offer good protection it felt confined more than anything else. Also despite wearing armor most of her childhood and such she would rather fight in more comfortable clothing than anything else. Before she knew it they were already in the air heading towards the Dawn's Guard. Looking at it Freya had to admit more than anything else it seemed like a flying city still while beautiful she wasn' there to admire the engineering feat that went into said marvel. They were closing in now it seemed and before long they landed at top of the deck and wouldnt wait for long before Kushrina landed herself she supposed.

Annaveya Kushrina - The Western Cross

"You'll get to them soon enough. After all, I can't have you going into the Fog without them. For now." The Western Cross sternly stated towards that of the Pirate Captain who was along for the tumultuous ride. The two Corsairs circled around the massive Kushrina Capitol ship once before she finished a second conversation while wisps of air trailed off her wingtips.

"Sadly, it's rather dismally simple, Lennard." Came her garbling voice over the military frequency straight to that of the independent ship captain. "I have a soon-to-be-former intelligence officer who is about to be fired because of incompetence. Your ship isn't flying the flag of a company or country, so it warranted investigation; yet, it wouldn't even have happened if he had checked our registry."

"Apologies for the disturbance, hence why I was offering a free escort for your ship as far along to our next destination as you'd choose. Landing now, see you soon if you choose to follow us in the next five kilometers." Queing the mic back onto the frequency that was her control tower, the Airship Captain had but one simple phrase.

"This is Hrist Zero-One, Zero-Seven and I are coming in for a landing. Prep the hooks, please."

"Copy that Zero-One, landing crews are prepping now. Land in fifteen seconds." Came the response from the Air Traffic Controller, and Anna's wings dipped in unison with her fellow wingman while far below, men in color-coded shirts sprinted across the deck to run a long, thick, and rather incredibly resilient wire across it.

In a feat of precision, both Corsairs lowered their landing gear from within the wings and tail of the smoothly contoured bottom, and came down upon the deck at the exact same time. Still moving quickly, they both came to a jarring halt upon the flight deck as naturally, the first procedure was the killing of their engines.

"Good catch Tower, compliments to the Wire Crews."

"Understood Ma'am. We'll let em' know."

Lowering her flight goggles to her neck and unhinging the canopy as ground maintenance crews starting sprinting towards the craft to tow it off the Flight Deck, Annaveya watched on as a duo of armed guards still helped heft Edoric out of the plane, and bind his wrists together a second time. She wasn't a fool, even on a ship as secure as the Dawn, she wasn't going to take any chances.

More importantly, as she glanced over towards the slower Archadian ship that had just landed, there was business to attend to.

Walking across the flight deck as the polished silvery metals of The Dawn's Guard seemed to glisten in the midday sun, Annaveya alighted a charming yet cunning grin as she drew closer to the Valkyrie.

"Welcome to The Dawn's Guard, Archadians!" She shouted loudly over the rushing wind, and more importantly, the two four-ship flights of Corsairs that sliced through the air with a roar over their heads while the sun liquidly ran across them as they rushed past overhead. Earnestly, she took the Valkyrie Leader's hands in hers and gently shook them, acting with her family's tradition as always by leaning forward to lightly plant a peck upon each cheek in greeting.

"I am Captain Annaveya Kushrina, The Western Cross...plus one guest." She denoted at the end, casting a wary glance to the obvious pirate while tossing her leather Aviator's jacket over her shoulder to hold it leisurely with one hand. "Let's talk inside, shall we?"

Motioning for the Valkyrie, her Guard, and her Soldiers that were holding Edoric, the Merchant Captain strode towards the nearest steely door. Pulling it open and striding inside, she proceeded to walk past dozens of varying workstations, laboratories, and cargo holds. Each time she walked through, it was obvious that the Captain had earned the respect of her crewmen. No matter if she insisted, they would stand aptly at attention until her departure from each respective room.

This persisted until she strode into her own office. Where Genie, her massive Direwolf lay in wait beside her desk.

"Please, do take a seat, get comfortable."

Before the desk sat a trio of luxuriously cushioned seats made of fine leathers and silk, while Annaveya herself sat behind an exquisite looking desk made of wonderfully crafted and polished oak. Surrounding them was an ambience of intellectualism, as three out of the four walls were decorated by classic, priceless art that was surrounded by various, almost innumerable books.

Not long after they sat, a caterer bearing a cart full of freshly cut exotic fruits also came in, giving each guest, to include Edoric a plate of the finer tastes. Plucking up her captain's cap and tilting it ever slightly to the ride side while she leaned back into her tall, leather chair; Annaveya certainly embodied the stereotypical stance that all Kushrina seemed to posses.

Intellect, ruthlessness, and cunning.

"Welcome once again, Valkyrie and Company. But what can the Kushrina Mercantile Company do for you today?"

---

Four cliffracers lied strewn about the deck. Sat among them was Gutters, beside one which he had decapitated. He was sifting his hands through the innards of the creature's head, plucking bits of meat, cartilage, and a bit of gray matter from it. He was completely lost in the act as he licked every bit of blood and gore from his fingertips. Both his eyes were still. The twitching had subsided. In this moment, he was calm.

The black veins stretched across his skin. They did not move, but their quantity gave off such a false impression.

The hunger.

He bit down on a clump of meat.

The thirst.

He drained the blood from the cliffracer's head, straight down his throat.

There lies the unseen, over yonder, in the Fog. He watches, and he smiles. You are alive, and he is happy.

Gutters continued to feast, late into the dark hours of the Fog.



A lone, one-manned airship wandered through the Fog, guided by the faintest lights in the bleak sky, and the radial mysteries of a weathered map. Aboard it, a lonesome explorer, well-equipped but lacking in experience. He sees a shipwreck through the darkness, illuminated by the frontward lights of his airship. And he decides to investigate.

The airship pulls up to the rails and stills itself, the explorer taking two anchors and tossing them aboard the wreck. He grabs his pistol and his lantern, both fine in make, and climbs down over the rail, planting himself on the deck. He raises his lantern and immediately regrets it.

He sees the bodies. The long-dead crewmen. The cliffracers that had only been killed only hours prior. He reels, but eventually, steels himself, and moves about. His well-tailored boots make the slightest stamping sounds as he proceeds towards the captain's cabin. He, however, quickly finds that he alone does not produce noise aboard this wreck.

Behind him, the sound of rapid, charging footsteps. He turns, but he is only quick enough to catch the gleaming, swollen eye and the jagged teeth of his assailant, before a swing from an old metal pipe puts him down.

He drops both his pistol and his lantern. His ears ring and his vision blurs as he cradles his head, slowly looking back upward to see his aggressor raise the pipe again.

Another downward swing, upon the explorer's head. He is no more.

Gutters breathed frantically as he looked down at the battered head of the explorer. Bit of blood had jumped on his coat, beard, and face. He dropped the pipe and knelt down, immediately beginning to pick through the remains of the newly dead. Oh, this young lad had definitely been looking to traverse the Fog in hopes of finding old, valuable treasures. Such fine clothes and gear, he must have bought it with ill-got coins. Or, maybe, it was a boon from his family. Didn't matter any to Gutters. The pistol was very nice, he took it and holstered it for later. A new knife and sword, as well. Plenty of spare bullets and vials of medicine. He contemplated taking the clothes, but he opted out of it. With the explorer's body successfully scavenged, he moved over towards the lantern and retrieved it.

Standing up, Gutters turned towards the airship the explorer had arrived on. It was the sort built to be manned by a single individual. Small, but well-fitted for long voyages. Wouldn't survive minutes in a fight, though. He was lucky this thing hadn't been besieged by pirates.

Gutters set the anchors back aboard and climbed onto the airship and opened the door to the cabin. It was stocked with extra supplies and ammunition, all very much intending to be put to good use. Well, not anymore - at least, not by their original owner.

Gutters turned and glossed over the airship's piloting mechanism. There were the standard controls, which he had no idea how to operate. But there was also a rather strange, arcane contraption fitted overhead. Bunch of circles centered around a simple sphere. Nodes occupied sections of the rings, denoted with colored gems.

As if instinctively, Gutters raised his hand and tapped one of the gems, on the left, outermost ring.

Kushrina.

The airship shifted a bit, causing Gutters to stumble some, but he quickly regained his stance. It ascended from its stationary position, rising over the dark of the Fog, heading off westward, towards the presumed location Gutters has chosen.

The man slowly planted himself in the pilot's seat, setting the lantern aside. He watched the airship weave through the Fog, distancing itself from spires that could have potentially been carrying nests of unsavory creatures. A useful contraption, no doubt. Must have cost quite a bit. But it lacked the rings signifying the Deep Fog and the Smoke - which he was in full mind to travel to.

One thing kept itself on Gutters' mind as the voyage carried on without his hand.

A mirror.

Big white ears perked up. The heart within that fuzzy chest beat that much faster. Icy blue eyes scanned the immediate vicinity for the reactions of the others here. At the tip of her long snout, that dark nose took in more about the others than they could ever imagine. They were nervous it seemed, for 'She' was home again.

The sounds of the belly of the smelly beast clanking open. The sounds of 'her' and 'her' marching in. And with guests this time. The scent of guests new and old; that old was something in pain no longer. Thatch. Could it be this time he was something sumptuous that may be waiting for Genie and her massive chops? Perhaps but perhaps not. The assessment Genie took away from Thatch was that yes, he spoke in ill-timed sayings, ( 'Rule Numero Quoi du "Gentleman Pirate"...! Rule Numero--' Ah, asseyez-vous et fermez la bouche simplement! S'il vous plait! Ughs, if Genie could just facepalm) but he did seem genuine in accepting the alliance as a pirate-hunting pirate. Peut-etre she would not eat him afterall. Maybe...

Her shaggy ivory coat shuddered as she stood upon all fours and shook it out. Icy blues peered over a shoulder and past her haunches as she stared, admired really, her wagging fluffy tail. A muffled yelp she let out as she scanned the helm. The others here were at the ready; a good thing they were not slacking off for 'she' was back on deck.

'She,' the Western Cross would not stand for slackers and neither would this wolf. If that's what you would call such a large thing.

The shaggy white beast padded upon all fours over to the others here. She nodded at the Helmsman and at the Navigator. They nodded back at the wolf that was almost the size of a lion. 300 pounds of ancient werewolf and there was no way she would take any sort of disrespect from them regardless of their station or rank. Genie had live much too long for that. And they knew that this wolf had bonded with their Commander. If Western Cross said to keep things in order at the helm while she was away, there was no damned way Genie would ever let things get out of order.

But it was not as if Genie was immune to fun and chaos. No, she was a playful cub at heart, but being bonded to another was no light thing. At all. How many centuries had she bonded with others? A light chuffing sound, akin to laughing escaped her throat. Too long perhaps? But at any rate, along the corridors the Ghost Wolf padded, icy blues taking in the demeanour and looks of all that she passed; all was in order. So far. Soft steps, astonishingly silent for something her size, briskly brought her towards where she knew the Commander would be; the Western Cross' greeting chambres.

For if there was one thing she learned over the centuries, it was that you needed allies to survive; a lone wolf was a very cooooooooool state of being, however, in reality, all that 'coolness' got you was killed or failure at every turn. So over those years and years and years, Genvieve learned to bond and ally herself with those in positions of great opportunity or power. This was the way of the Ame-Soeur. The Deviant Kind. The Kindred Spirit Wolf.

Yes, Genie did have her sisterhood and daughters made of her bloodline, but she knew it was not enough. And so in this decade, enter the crimson eyed Kushrina. What influence did this beauty have? What kind of power did she command?

More than enough for the Ghost Wolf to hide behind as she licked her wounds and rebuilt her own empire in the shadows.

Yes, Mz. Commander Annaveya Kushrina Western Cross was violent, impulsive, vindictive and even cruel, but she was also very cunning and commanded a very sizeable portion of armada to respect and oui, she did have much clout within the armada. That, and Genie found her cute as hell. Huahahahah... perks of being 'watchdog'.... the ol' Wolfie gets to watch out for the pretty commander... even in sleep... Elle est tres sexy, ne c'est pas? Huahahahah...

But non, Genie was not pervie. At all. Non, she did as she was asked. As long as she was fed and kept safe, she would do as asked.

That and as long as her boots were kept safe. Oh, how the ol' Wolfie loved her midnight hued suede boots and it long, long shiny ribbon laces.

And so she was loyal to the Commander of the Dawn's Guard. For how many years it was, it neither felt short nor long to the Ghost Wolf, for keeping a bond was not about time. It was about maintenance. Oui, Genie had left time and again, but each time she did, rest assured the Ghost Wolf had returned.

But there were others out there that she needed to provide 'bond maintenance' with; in particular a certain blue-headed sweetheart. Oh, how she played that one... but still, the blue-headed sweetie was of utmost importance to keep in alliance regardless of how brainless that blue-headed sweetheart was.

At any rate, here she was now. 300 pounds of Genie, sitting upon her haunches at the side of the Commander of the Dawn's Guard's lavish desk. A curiosity stricken tilt of the head she gave the newest strangers but that was all. Her tensed and obedient pose returned and she let her two and a half centuries old aura impress upon the strangers here.

A hole the size of a grapefruit was the Commander and Western Cross's usual threat of violence. But that was the easy way out. For if given the command, pain honed by centuries of experience would befall any that her bonded Anna commaded of Genie. Icy blues scanned the room and settled in upon each of the strangers, piercing them, assessing, ears and nose perked, listening to the heart that beat behind that bare chest and sniffing gently for the subtle pheromone changes. Any lies and Genie would know. And from that bond, Genie would send those empathic thoughts to Anna and await further instructions.

If given the command, the next 96 seconds of his life would become too excruciating to endure for those that deserved 300 pounds of Genie assaulting rhem. If given the command, Genie's gargantuan muzzle would open and clamp down with nearly 4000 pounds of pressure and rip off any body part she wished to rip off. Her immense maw would open and feed upon whatever she chose to feed upon and later that night she would dance in her lovely favoured black suede boots licking her lips and fingers as she spun and twirled.

With all her will, she resisted wagging her gorgeous fluffy white tail and remained motionless at the side of the Western Cross, icy blues scanning the strangers without moving her head... Save for a single respectful, even affectionate nod towards the Commander of the Dawn's Guard; 'She' was home once more.

Bienvenue encore, Madame... awaiting orders, were her empathic sensations sent out to Anna, et j'ai faim aussi... if it so pleases, Madame, Genie may have dinner a bit early... huahahahah...