Gwyneira woke with a start to the sound of splashing waves. She found herself in a dimly lit room with multiple hammocks. After a few seconds her eyes adjusted to the dark. To her right side lay a man that was bandaged. Upon closer inspection she saw his face and realized it was none other then the man she had saved by freezing him above water. Cicero Bladewalker. His armor and weapons were nowhere to be found. Even his gambeson had been removed leaving only a dark brown clothing.

To her left lay their unlikely ally. The cloaked man. His bags were gone and only his normal cloak hung nearby. When Gwyn went to look for her own supplies they were gone as well. From above she could hear the thudding of footsteps and men yelling. The creaking of boards was constant.

She tried to think through her splitting headache. She was extremely thirsty. But more than that. She craved something. It couldn't be the vial she had before, could it? As she continued pondering, the cloaked man began to stir. Apparently he had woken up as well. What would they make of the situation they were in now?

Suddenly, they heard the clang of metal on metal about twenty feet from their hammocks. Further down was a barred gate with a single shrouded figure behind it. Two arms hung through the gate and rested lazily between the bars.

---

Would they approach the figure or attempt to climb the stairwell? Or, perhaps something else entirely?

Blinking through the headache, Gwyn forced herself to get up. This wasn't the worst ever headache she'd ever had after draining her magical reserves but it was definitely in the top ten. A potentially hostile situation though meant that she needed to be more on guard and push through any weaknesses. She then took stock of herself, seeking to mostly judge what her energy reserves were like and if she could feel anything else beside a headache, thirstiness, and that odd craving sensation like a craving for ice cream. She couldn't consider long the equipment that was gone for now, just hope that they could get it back. The items would be useful and the rapier and dagger set as well as the wand had been graduation presents from her parents.

Content in her self-examination, she glanced over Cicero to see if there were was anything new wrong with him though judging it best to wait till the headache had receded before attempting any more healing if not needed. Then she turned to the stranger who'd helped them out and saw him stirring. She glanced back to the man behind the bars then looked back to the stranger. May as well touch base with the people near her before trying to figure out where they were and what was going on. She whispered to the waking stranger, "Hey, you alright there?"

It took many long minutes of being rocked, tapped, shaked and maybe even a yell or two before he finally stirred to more than shifting his eyes behind closed eyelids. He was usually a very light sleeper.

Usually.

Willing himself awake after an immense amount of procrastination, dim candlelight stung his corneas like the sun would but only for a moment, his blurry vision landed on a certain silhouette of someone beside him at an odd angle. Who? The taste of salt still lingered in the corners of his teeth, it made him want to get up and spit but as his numb hands grasped the side of the hammock - his whole body ached. He felt like he had been slammed against many rocks in his sleep, was he even alive? ...and the queasiness ...oh the quesiness, his mouth bloated up but he managed to keep it down.

Was the place ...MOVING? He just stared at Gwyneira for a few long moments, it was an extremely awkward moment but he needed to focus on any non-moving part of her for a bit...and he felt the urge to throw up dissipate.

"W-where are......." His oddly greyish skin looked paper white as his mouth bloated up for a moment again, before deflating. "....I...?"

Now that she could see him without his hood on, their accquaintance looked even more sickly than she imagined when he had his hood on. But his physique was unusually strong and robust, albeit pale. His wild hair was pressed into a weird shape behind him by the hammock he slept on, growing into a greyish mane that ran down his back and girded his sideburns and chin in front - now so much longer as he clearly has not been groomed in days.

Runed earrings dug through deeply his left ear, radiating subtly with enchantment, without any seams or clasps they seemed ...unremovable. His fingers tried haphazardly to untangle hair that became stuck in them before he moved his head any further as he continued concentrating on her nose.

He hoped he had the tolerance to hold it back long enough to pass ...or that she had the reflexes to dodge it if it came.

His sullen eyes glanced behind her shoulder at the rattling racket which helped wake him up in the first place, squinting at the bars and the hands behind it...

---

Behind the bars a man waited. Patiently at first, though the longer the newcomers took to arise, the more agitated he became. He wasn't impressed by what he could make of them, at least from what he could see in the dim hull. He began tapping against the steel as two of them moved around, he waited a moment longer to see if he could get a read off of them.

"That one's not gonna last long," he eventually spoke. He pointed a finger toward the larger man just getting up. It took a certain kind of person to handle the sea. He then turned his gaze toward the elf. "But you, love, I've got a good feeling about you. You look like you can handle the big blue." He looked her up and down before adding, "Amongst other things, I'm sure." He paused as the ship took on a rough wave, grabbing tighter to the bars until it passed.

"How's 'bout you lot come over here and hear me out before the crew comes back," he continued. "Smack that one awake, would you big guy? I'll even throw in which of you snores the loudest." He was growing impatient. He knew they still had a long journey yet, though he also knew the crew could become unpredictable and violent if they wanted to. These three were his only chance of escape.

"No need to worry, I don't bite often. You can trust me." He spoke with forced sincerity, crossing his fingers behind his back just in case. "Don't mind this cell, either. It's not what it looks like." He looked at them with a slight smile before looking around himself. "Well, maybe kind of...yeah, it is sort of what it looks like." He winced and cleared his throat. "I can explain?"

The big blue ...So they WERE at sea. Sod. That.

The thought of the vast ocean outside made him want to retch even more, but he held back - if not for 'saving face' then for the fact that he utterly disliked having his seasickness called out by some hoodlum.

"...You ...talk, too much. Too loudly. Liars talk ...too much." Consider it revenge.

But he said something of small worth at least, Cicero needed to be woken up. Still holding one hand over his own mouth in case anything came up, he dug into the pockets of his still hanging cloak - only to find nothing. Where were his bottles of chemicals?

He breathed slowly and closed his eyes, centering himself. This was slowly becoming a more stressful situation by the second. Being stressed right now was, undesirable.

Opening his eyes once he has paced his breath, he looked at his subject's face. He did not fancy the thought of smacking the knight awake like the captive said, it seemed needlessly violent and indignifying. But he knew ONE other medical way to wake someone up quickly. Reaching over and hovering his hand over Cicero's face, he pinched the knight's nose to induce a gag reflex that would normally jolt anyone wide awake. But only for 10 seconds at a time, suffocating Cicero was not part of his plan. He pressumed Gwyneira had already tried gentler methods of waking him up previously.

"Explain then. Where ...are my ...our stuff? Then maybe ....we unlock."

He asked the prisoner while holding on to Cicero's hammock to steady himself, they could hear him just fine from here. If Gwyneira wanted to walk close to the cage, he would stop her verbally with an abrupt ' "Don't!" ' and a knowing shake of the head. He knew far too well what could be done in the name of fReedom by the desperate, having a hostage would give him bargaining chips where he currently has none.

---

Gwyneria kept her eye on what her current "ally" was doing. She would step in if it ever became lethal but it wasn't within his best interests to kill their best fighter, especially with her right there. She hadn't recovered much energy and so would need to wait till there was true need. Which was a pity, she could have fast healed Cicero and seen if she could have done anything about the guy's sickliness. She also looked around for water which she could drink and douse Ciero awake if the guy's game failed.

She also viewed the guy on the other side of the bars. Had he tried flirting with her earlier? Honestly, whatever he had tried sounded gross instead of flattering, but it was still shocking. She sat up straighter. "Yes explain. Who are you? Who's the crew of this ship? How did they find us and what do they want?"

The man listened to their questions, while his gaze stayed on the sleeping one. "I'll tell you all what you want to know, but only if you pinky promise to get me out of here," he said in jest, knowing he didn't have to many options. "Only kidding. Fine." He cleared his throat and stood upright. "I am Captain Dalious Durendail, I'm certain you've heard of me." He paused briefly in case they had. "No? ...anyway, this is my ship and my crew. Well, was, before the mutiny. It's a long story, I'll spare you the details as I'm not quite yet over it. They aim for the bounty on my head, those meesley vagrants! Never trust a pirate. Except for me, of course."

He squinted as he spoke, trying to see what exactly they were doing to the sleeping one. He couldn't tell, so he continued "I don't know where your things are, a little locked up at the moment. Probably in my quarters above. As for what they want, simply what every pirate wants. Gold. So ask yourself, are you worth anything? If you are, then take note strangers. This crew, though reasonable at times, is the most lethal bunch of misfits I've ever had the misfortune of sailing with. With my absence, they are being run by my old first mate. Joss "Mutiny" Chrom. He's cold and ruthless. Seen him stab a pup once for the fun of it, the grim bastard. But you lot look like you can handle a bone or two, what say you three go up there and kill all of them, eh? Best to get them now at unawares, who's with me?" He was serious, however knew his odds weren't great.

Gwyn cocked her eyebrow at the "captain". "And why, pray tell, should we trust you? Wouldn't we already be with you in your cell if they had any intentions for us?" Though, there could be an argument in the man's favor made as to why there was none of the crew down here to watch the "guests". She'd only heard about pirates from reputation, especially their slaving habits. Unfortunately, all three of them could fetch a fair coin. Well, maybe not their latest member, though looks could be deceiving on just how strong and healthy he was. Cicero definitely would have the strong, healthy male work slave sale value once fully healed (if allowed to heal). She, however, was an elf and most of what she had heard agreed that elves were often seen as valuable merchandise, status symbols for the wealthy. Add in the fact that they would probably figure out she used magic and could figure effective methods to curb her so she couldn't escape...Yeah, the situation really wasn't bright, though one guy might be more easily overpowered and watched if he tried to betray them. Ugh, so many unknown variables. Not for the first time, she wished she could just sense a person's intent behind their actions.

She sighed. "Hypothetically, if we were to take on the crew, how many of them are there? What're their usual stations and rotations? And where would the key to your cell be?"

The seasick man said nothing when the captive paused for recognition, there was no way he would have heard of some seafaring pirate ...he did not even know the name of the elf who stood right beside him! It started with a 'G', ...Gon? ....Gwen? Gwenolia? He had heard Cicero yell it once. The only reason he knew Cicero Bladewalker's name is because he was a finalist in that gladiatorial fight and everyone would not shut up about it at the betting table.

...he looked at her again, trying to put a name to that pointy earred face. As she spoke, the elf's words made him pinch then release Cicero's nose again, harder - glaring angrily at the sleeping knight.

Wake up, you son of a-!

They could really use a third opinion right about now.

"Kill ...them?" He turned a scowl towards Dalious and grimaced, suspicious of his intent,

"They still saved us from drowning." Talking properly was exhausting what with the world spinning, but if it was going to stop them from making a big mistake then it was still worth it!

"We ...we're out here, treated, not locked up. If they ...wanted to harm us, they would-" He caught his breath, "...while asleep."

"Find truth first. Parley?" He said towards her, wondering if this made more sense to elven ears.


Time was running short, in more ways than one, he could feel it. He looked around their surroundings, pausing every now and then. His watchful gaze fell onto their source of light. Lumbering over to one of the pillars on the farside corner, he began to unhook a lantern and twist the holdfasts out of the wood, keeping them and the slender metal pieces he could pry off the lanterns in his pocket.

"Why keep using words, Bite, bone, pu---nevermind ...how many ...of them?"

He asked of the imprisoned one, changing his original question to the same question she previously asked mid-sentence, it was not as urgent.

After three lanterns, he placed them on and nearby crate and sat back down on it's corner, huffing. Now realizing how hungry he was...

"I ...we talk first? If no work," His gaze met Dalius'. "Then." He casually pointed at him. "That." He looked at Gwyneira expectantly, it would only go through if she agreed. Then if she concured, only then, will he start climbing the stairwell to find someone to speak to.

---

"Perhaps, but this brig only fits one really...two maybe," he replied to the elf. "Hypothetically, there are too many. The more questions you ask the more doubt I feel. Besides, you've had a rough past few if my senses read correct. Best to sneak in, probably, and slit their throats while they pass out piss drunk. Or just sneak in to the captain's chambers, at the very least. If you're really boring I suppose we could just wait and see what they want. And we're pirates, we don't have stations and rotations. Took me years to get Sully to man the ship right the dumb bloke."

He paused when he could barely hear some laughter up ahead. Watching the seasick man wander over toward the light, he listened to him with a curiously raised eyebrow as he asked the elf's question again. "There are twelve of them, right now they seem to be good and drunk. Won't be long before they pass out, though I wouldn't rule out them joining us out of nowhere. Joss must have the key..."

Cicero woke with a start, coughing uncontrollably. Graves' "technique" had done the job, albeit delayed. When his coughing finally subsided he glanced around the living quarters. His eyes just beginning to adjust. "Where am I?" He tried to move his shoulder, but felt very stiff in most of his joints. His right shoulder and left leg were bandaged, and his neck had some crude stitching done to it for a particularly nasty gash. Apparently the journey to this place had been harsh indeed. However, Cicero could not remember what had happened after he grasped Gwyn. Where was she? Was she okay? And what happened to their mysterious stranger? It took some work before he finally grunted into a sitting position.

Cicero noticed Gwyn and breathed a sigh of relief, "Good. She's alive," he thought to himself. He nodded at her and asked, "Are you alright?" Then he turned to Graves who had made his way near the stairs. He really had no idea what was going on. Though, with the rocking movements of the living quarters he began to suspect they were on a vessel of some kind. He had not yet noticed the man behind the bars.

---

The sounds of footsteps above came to an abrupt halt. They heard some muffled noises for some time. Then it erupted into loud cheers. They all heard the sound of locks being unfastened and chains being removed. The door above was unlatched as moonlight pierced through the opening. Men began to descend the stairs and brush past Graves unceremoniously. Some laughed to one another and others smiled malicious grins. They all stood near the stairwell in a rough formation. 11 of them in total. After this, a final set of footsteps could be heard descending. It was long and drawn out, but the wooden boards creaked beneath the weight of them. When the individual reached the bottom of the stairwell the lanterns illuminated his features. A man of about 6 feet and 200 pounds.
All the crew immediately became silent as he cleared his throat. They heard a deep gruff voice address them, "I apologize on behalf of our former captain fer the dirtiness of our living quarters. E' never did care for the likes of us humble sailors, now did e' lads?" They gave out sounds of approval and one of the men spat in the direction of Dalious. Satisfied, the man continued, "The name is Captain Joss Crom of the Libertalia. We found yer sorry selves floating on a raft made of ice." Some of the men's eyes widened at the mention of an ice raft, "Being the superstitious bunch we was, decided to pluck ya out of the drink and patch ya up. Courtesy of the kind doctor ere'." He gestured to a man with dirty hands and a black bandana around his head. He smiled a toothless grin. From Gwyn's perspective, it was clear the man was neither a doctor nor kind.

Joss continued, "We is heading toward the Knight Isles. We plan on droppin' ya off at the closest port. No charge required. That's just the kind of folk we is, isn't it lads?" The crew nodded in approval and gave sounds of agreement once more. One of the men stared at Gwyn for the duration of the captain's speech. It made her uncomfortable to say the least. Some others shifted uncomfortably at the proximity of Graves to the stairwell and fumbled with the hilt of a cutlass once or twice.

---

Would the group go along with the plan? Choose to fight? Or perhaps something in the middle?

Gwyn shifted herself to stand up straight behind Cicero while glancing around at the motley crew. Yeah, these guys were definitely not to be trusted especially with how they were eyeing their prey. Though the locked and chained door meant that the proposed sneak attack would have been difficult to say the least. At least Cicero was awake now, though unarmed and unarmored and heavily wounded still. The situation wasn't ideal for a fight now. May as well act nice...for now.

"And we thank you for your hospitality." She answered the captain. "Are we long from the closest port? While she spoke, she prepared in case she would need to cast something soon, gathering and focusing her current energy. Fire would be a last resort spell. Teleport could only be used once and probably knock her unconscious, so no go in the current situation. Ice had various different possibilities from icicles to more slippery surfaces, though she'd need to be spare in her use. Now wasn't the time for healing. A flash of light would blind them definitely, but would need to be immediately taken advantage of, though at least that she could do multiple times. Invisibility would drain too quickly. Illusions...well those could work. A quick Light flash then an illusion of one of their superstitions. Which one would work for this? Gwyn furiously wracked her memory for some figure she could use.

As the sleeping one finally awoke, Dalious opened his mouth to speak to him as he had the others. Just then the crew came down and he held his tongue, wincing at the sight of them and rolling his eyes. Moving his foot just in time to miss the crewmate's spit, he crossed his arms and listened intently from behind the bars. A raft made of ice? Dalious found himself in awe of the subject, eyes wide as well. He wished he had seen such a thing in person, wondering which of the newcomers pulled that off.

Dalious couldn't help but let out a bursting laugh when Joss was finished with his speech. After the elf spoke, he cut in."Ha! Yeah, you're a real bunch of sweethearts. Wouldn't happen to have any sugar with that crocked shite would ya, mate? I don't know what your dealings are with this group Mutiny, but as for me, if you're gonna sell me off that's fair game. Eye for an eye, we're pirate's I get it. However the price is far too low from what the crew's told me, I'm worth at least double you shite."

"Oh no nono, no need for apologies!"

He waved his hands in front of him, as if to push back the extra courtesy sent his way. His tone turned a few pitches finer upon seeing their rescuers, ignoring the fact that they brushed past him rudely, they still required the proper greeting.

His voice now gentlemanly, civillized, the same one used when he first met Cicero. But he still looked strained and ill,

"You rescued us, it is I who must be grate." He nodded. Upon hearing the words 'floating in ice' and seeing the reaction of the crew, the man looked shyly to the floor for a long while whilst scratching the hair on the back of his neck.

"Blessed be the Madam of the Deep." He clasped his hands in prayer for a moment, sincerely muttering his prayer with eyes closed. "Blessed be this very ship." Though also because if he kept them opened too long, the cabin started to kind of ...warp, nausaeuosly. Then when he opened his eyes, he looked at the crew again.

"My name is brother Gravous Vigil." He offered a greeting of hands crossed over his chest. "I am a cleric of Calliope Calypso, she of kind waters and cruel storms ....or-" He held the back of his hand to his mouth, he felt something sour rise in his throat and sink down again for the briefest moment. "-on the ice ...you mentioned, is of her grace. But I am very ill," His pale greyish skin already spoke for him, if not, his sullen looks will vouch for his illness.

Letting out a pained sigh.

"-as the kind doctor must have found out. I don't mean to rush you but" He looked up through the grate at the moon high in the clouds, a worried expression spread across his features then he looked back down,

"...might I partake in my medicine soon if you still have it ...and suggest those who touched me do so as well? As a preventive measure. It is contagious." He seemed genuinely urgent, though only witheld by a manner of civility.

"The insanity is sudden and death quite painful ...wish to avoid it."

There was a lot of talking back and forth between the crew and Cicero's allies. There was also a man behind the barred gate who was making a ruckus about their leader. Joss "Mutiny" Chrom. Cicero did not like the sound of that. Though at this point it was hard to discern who to trust if anyone.

As Gwyn hid behind him, Cicero stood more upright into a passive defensive stance. Though he did not have any weapons to speak of, he still knew how to disarm and wrestle with opponents. His joints ached from their journey and he couldn't find much to say. What was their game really?

That's when Graves put up the most ridiculously fake priest Cicero had ever heard of. He thought to himself, "Honestly, how could anyone actually fall for this load of garbage?" Cicero held in a chuckle which came out as a snort. Then he coughed to hide it.

---

Joss eyed the elf cocking his head to the side, ever so slightly. It was harder to see her behind the knight. Then he replied, "Oh yes, we is very close to port. Bout a day's journey out now." He nodded emphatically closing his eyes. The men around him did the same.

Dalious wasn't having it. He went into a mocking tirade about how inept the were regarding the reward. It was clear Joss wasn't pleased. He began to turn red in the moon-light, but they could hear him take a deep breath as he calmed himself, "We ave nothin' more to say to ye, Dalious. Our reward is to be rid of yer sorry hide." The men laughed at their former Captain. Though there were some who remained quiet. To the discerning eye it was clear not all the men were on the same page regarding Dalious.

Graves began his show as "Gravous Vigil." Then men looked at him questioningly. The longer he spoke the more they seemed to be convinced. Joss looked humbled and replied, "Ah yes, Calypso is indeed a maiden of kind waters and cruel storms. Being we is humble sailors an all I've never eard she had any clerics to speak of..." He paused for a long while looking over his men for any signs of knowledge. Making a decision he finally stated, "I'm sure it was cause of your help that these two," He gestured to Cicero and Gwyn, "made it alive out of the deep."

Joss ordered his man to fetch Graves' things and bring them down, "I apologize for this. I never knew ye to be a cleric." He shifted around a little nervous, "We appreciate the blessing.." He looked over everyone and stated, "Food will be served shortly on deck. Ye are all welcome to attend." It was clear he was excluding Dalious.

---

Would they go on deck with the crew? Stay below? Or something else?

As for Dalious, would he look for a way out, convince someone to help or wait it out?

He glared at Cicero and Gwyneira's general direction when the knight coughed, he heard that little snort.

Don't you even-

"Madam," He corrected Joss' sentence. "not maiden." Like any true faithful would. But disrespectful as it might have been, the cleric still held a kind smile towards the sailor which meant complete forgivness.

"I'm sure it was cause of your help that these two," He gestured to Cicero and Gwyn, "made it alive out of the deep."

"I ...suppose." He looked at Cicero and Gwyneira quizzically, like he has never seen them before. "I don't really know them, perhaps Her Grace decided they were worth something."

"But THAT one," He pointed at Dalious, "What. A. F--foul creature." Then looked away, seemingly offended by the mere sight of it. The world lagged behind where his gaze tried landing.

When they mentioned food, the cleric's stomach growled in agreement and he looked sorely abashed even as he tried to hide it with an awkward, lopsided smile. Lopsided, mostly because his eyes could barely focus anymore.

"Many ...g-graces."

He waited as patiently as he could for them to bring him his medicine and when given the chance - share it with them, then join them for dinner? On a boat. Great. At least he had an excuse for throwing up over the sides.

All he had to do now was hold out until then...

Honestly, Gwyn wasn't sure what Gravous was trying to accomplish, but it seemed to be working and she was perfectly willing to leave the talking to him since she barely was able to convince a barkeeper to tell her what she needed. She held her tongue and started imagining an otherworldly maiden both beautiful and serene yet violent and dreadful and in all ways powerful that could be Calypso. A priest might need to summon his goddess at some point after all or she would seek retribution for those who tried to harm her priest. Or no, not a full image. That would be too costly and she probably couldn't pull off the proper voice without being too obvious. But gods and goddesses had been known to possess the mortals beneath them. And as the only girl here... Yeah, that would work. Make her eyes look like complete silver, make it appear like her hair was going wild, drop her voice an octave, darken the area around her except for flashes of light, simulate a thundercrack somehow, and she might just be able to pull it off if Gravous took advantage. Maybe she could use her ice? No, the sound wouldn't be similar enough.

For now, she'd just have to follow Gravous's lead on what to do next even if it did lead to them dining with the crew. She shivered. The looks were going to be worst there, she just knew it.

When Gravous called him out, Dalious instinctively looked behind himself to see who he must have been talking about. When he realized that it was actually him being pointed at, he smelt his armpit and gave an agreeing nod. "I'll give you that one, mate."

It was at this point that the pirate knew he was done for. Apparently he had misread these strangers, thinking them now to be of the same cloth as his old crew. He was on his own. Looking around the cell again as if he hadn't one hundred times already, he desperately hoped he would notice something he hadn't before. If only he had a lockpick, or even something small enough to fit into the lock. Suddenly an idea came to him, he just needed a bit of luck.

"You win, Captain Crom, there I said it," Dalious spoke to Joss, attempting to ruse in his defeat. "You are the better Captain. I realize my mistakes, now that I've reached my lowest. Well, besides that time I hit rock bottom in Naveroth. That was lower, those folks there just had a thing out for me, the pissy wanks." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I accept my fate and applaud your victory. May you sail many waves, I just had one small favor to ask of you. I, also, am quite hungry. I could use some food, doesn't even have to be your finest. I'll take the raw fish the men were to throw back, I'm starving!" He lied in hopes of getting a fish, as their bones might be sharp enough to fit the lock. If anything it was worth a shot.

Captain Joss "Mutiny" shrugged before bellowing. "What'd you say, lads? Should we allow our former Cap'n here his last meal?" The crew replied with hearty yeas and scornful laughter. "Well then, let him have the fish that most deserves to be his dinner." The sailors cheered and mocked as the most odious, foulest, rawest fish was brought forward and thrown into the cell, eyes and scales and all. It definitely wasn't a culinary delight, but the fishbones were in there.

The crew then "politely" brought their "guests" for the feast up on deck. The food was good and the pirates were certainly merry. Cicero and Gwyn stayed tense and alert though throughout the night. Graves ended up falling asleep from his "medication" along with the four others who'd shared in the "medicine". The rest, especially the Captain, focused on their grog. Chrom became more boisterous as the night wore on, bragging about all matter of exploits. The others entered greater and lesser degrees of intoxication and sleepiness.

After a while, Gwyneira figured now was the chance to find their equipment and potentially get their other potential ally out of his cell. Whispering her plans to Cicero with a plea to call for help if he got into any sort of trouble, Gwyn snuck away and headed towards the Captain's cabin.

Who knew when they would return, there was little time to waste. He looked at the dead fish lying next to him, staring deeply into its blank eyes. He grabbed the fish with only a moment of hesitation, then sunk his teeth deep into it and started eating. He ate a few large bites, gagging a few times and pausing for breaks. It wasn't the first raw fish he had ever eaten, but he was hoping it'd be the last. "Ah, fookin' horrible!" After a few bites he settled on ripping the rest of it apart until he reached the bones.

He started breaking the fish spine until he had one long pick, sharp and thin on either end. He then reached his hands out of his cell and placed the bone into the lock. Humming to himself as he worked with the pins, he eventually felt a click and the cell door simply opened. A smile formed on the pirate's face as he pocketed the makeshift lockpick and slipped out of the cell.

From above, he listened as the crew and the newcomers went to eat. They were loud for a time, but as the night drew on things became more silent aside from the crashing waves and harsh winds. They were eating and drinking themselves to sleep, though he could not tell what the newcomers were up to. Perhaps they were siding with Captain Chrom, it didn't matter. He would wait his time and then slip out unnoticed, making his way to where he believed his belongings to be.

Heading to his old captain's cabin, he hid as best he could while searching through the darkness. Hearing light footsteps, he thought Joss would be coming back soon so he gripped his fishbone lockpick tight between his fingers to use as a shiv. When the captain showed, he would make him pay for everything he's done.