---

Melin. A quiet town some 200 miles from Tholmhaven, built by the foot of a large rocky plateau that crops out of the ground like some rock monster. Many others like it dot the landscape around, all housing some form of a settlement. But by far, Melin is the biggest one around. The first settlers have made good use of the rock face, and carved into the stone to make landing pads and facilities to dock, house and repair airships and blimps. Here, in the relative safety of a thin shadowed area the first houses were made from the rocks excavated during the building of the docks. The farther you get away from the rock, the more you advance in time, and decrease in wealth. Most houses are built from the abundant rock the cliff provided, but as you exit into the shadow area into the blazing sun, the slums emerge with their rickety houses made from less stone, and more junk metal. This urban sprawl lasts for a good hundred meters or so, dotted with the occasional larger stone building. Melin is known to be an oasis to the weary travelers: it houses nothing of importance for a trading man, but it has a natural spring, and as such, many bars and entertainment facilities. Even a bath that costs a hefty sum to enter, but it's a luxury not many towns can afford. Windmills loom above the bustling town, far above even the airships to generate electricity for everyone below.

It enjoys a steady stream of traffic during the early and late hours, with practically still air between 9 AM and 16 PM. In the morning, mercenaries and traders arrive to bring their goods. They spend the hot day in town, before leaving to other settlements come the night hours. This way they can avoid the blazing sun making their water supplies boil away, and damage their machinery. The few ships that do come around noon are usually the interesting ones: they are either in a distress or a hurry, or they don't have to struggle with overheating. Either way, they are usually what prospectors look for in the rare case they appear.

Indeed, this time wasn't different either. The watchmen saw the ship approaching from nearly 20 miles away with their scopes as they sun's light beamed off the metal bits. About an an hour ago, most decent folk could spot this second sun in the sky steadily growing as it approached. It took another 30 minutes for the wind to carry the first musical tones of an engine's rumble to the town, by which time the main docking station was already filled with all kinds of people, looking for work. The ship didn't smoke, and the watchers told them it didn't look like it was damaged either. That meant someone or something important was arriving.

But as the ship drew close, it was becoming quite obvious just how much people were wrong. From the size of the light, most people expected a B, heck even an A rank blimp. But as it approached, and sense could be made of it's shape, it was clear that it was much smaller. It was a large C sized ship, pushing the limits into B maybe, but it wasn't as impressive by size as people thought. What was impressing however, was the myriad brass plates that covered it's slender airframe, reflecting the light like angry laser beams. An engraved bracing run along the top and bottom along the ship, connecting in the back into the engine cover, and in the front into an elegant spike. Engravings ran along this large metal piece, thought they were hard to make out. A tiny cupola hung below this majestic body, made out of wood and similar brass. It wasn't that impressive, and it tempted the question where a lot of the things were housed.

A few people left in disappointment, but most of the crowd stayed to see how things were going to go down. A large mirror built into the front spike gleamed towards the dock watchers, and they began moving the cranes and ropes into position to fix the ship. The sound of the engines died out as the ship made the last dozen meters while gently floating into place. Workers threw ropes over to the railings of the ship to pull it closer, and the crane was readied inc ase it carried cargo. Silently, the ship came to a full halt in the shadow of the rocky above, and a name could be read on one of the larger plates in beautifully engraved letters "Magnificent". Indeed, the ship was a true beauty, but beauty is often traded for utility purposes on most ships.

You all watch from the crowd with high expectations. All of you are here looking for a way outta town on a decent vessel, and this might be your chance. Soon enough, those waiting around eagerly could spot the crew leaving the ship. A ramp lowered from the cabin to the port, and a group walked out onto the rocky port. In front walked a man who was obviously the one driving the ship, judging by his feathered leather cap, though his clothes were rather ragged. Behind him, a crew member was leading a prisoner bound by simple ropes. Despite his clearly grave status, he carried himself like the true boss of the group, and even smiled at the crowd that has gathered. Then another prisoner was lead out by a crew member, this time a girl with a vivid pink hair. Unlike the first one, her hands were cuffed behind her and she was led like that. She carried herself with less of an attitude than the other one, but she was suspiciously calm apart from a few glances traded with her captors. Was she not afraid or angry?

Thought the first two drew attention as they were loud, they stopped as the captain in front began to talk with the harbormaster. But the crowd's attention quickly shifted back to the ship, as it gently rocked while two of the crew crept down the ramp, pulling something via chain. After a lot of effort, a beast of a man finally emerged from the cramped doorway, the chains connecting to shackles around his neck. His hands were tied with not one, but three handcuffs. He was a hulking abomination, standing over 2 meters with forearms the size of his captor's legs, a bald head made magnificent by a strong beard. "You puny man cannot contain Misha! I will break free!" He shouted with a russian accent so thick you could cut it with a knife. He struggled against his chains, but he was finally brought off the ramp as a final crew member exited the ship behind him, and helped the other two pull this "Misha" person. "Chains cannot hold me! Don't worry captain, I'll get us out of here in no time!" The prisoner in the front chuckled silently, almost unnoticeably.

The captain of the ship only took a glance back as he spoke privately with the portmaster, handing him a small sack of what must've been Dim for the port services. Then he motioned for his crew to follow and he made his way towards the crowd gathered around. "Aye, what are ye lookin at? Mind yer own business, we ain't hiring!" He shouted, and waved around with his hands to clear himself a way through the gathered crowd.

The amusement of the crowd lasts for a few second as they are told to disperse. Have you come this far only to be told to fuck right off? Most of the people gathered clearly think the same as they began to slowly disperse. "Excuse me gentleman! Who is looking for some quick Dim?" All eyes turn towards the prisoner in the front. The captain in front turns back to punch him, but he misses as the prisoner ducks out of the way swiftly. "A 100 Dits for every one of these dead posers!" He exclaims while ducking out of the way from another punch. The crewman are getting weary and anxious: they clearly didn't plan for this.

@6slyboy6

Reva stood and watched as the procession from the ship disembarked. She’d been stuck at Melin for weeks now after the captain of her last ship threw her off; it wasn’t her the Captain’s daughter had become so enamoured with her. However, she was grateful the captain had just left her in port and not tossed out onto the sands…once was more than enough.

Adjusting her grip on the duffel bag with her clothes, and the leather roll-up with her long guns, she threaded through the crowd; if they were taking on crew, she wanted to be first or second in line. She made it forward just in time to hear ‘Misha’s’ boast, followed by the captain of the Magnificent telling everyone to piss off. Reva was starting to turn away with the rest of the crowd, when the lead captive spoke up with an offer to the masses.

This is a terrible idea, She thought as she let her baggage fall to the ground. Odds are you’re going to die, rather quickly at that. Her lips wrinkled into a smile. ”Fuck it!” She muttered as her pistol cleared leather. Most people where still watching the Magnificent’s captain trying to deck his prisoner, so no-one noticed Reva, right until she pulled the trigger.

The relative quiet of the dock was shattered by the ‘clap’ of a pistol shot, the big bullet shattering the captain’s head into a pulpy mass of blood and bone. Rushing forwards, she took shots at the two crew in front of the giant, hitting one in the leg. Reaching the prisoner who’d made the offer that Reva had just committed herself to, she drew her knife with her free hand, and set to cutting his bonds. ”Name’s Reva,” She said by way of introduction. ”You best be square on your offer or by whatever you hold dear, you’ll die slow.”

|+| ADEPT |+|

"And I say unto thee, lest not the darkness of thine hearts weight thy down! Nay, let the flames of thine sould burn brightly as the most holy stars! By the constellation of mercy, may lost find their way by the Saint Polaris, the guiding Star of the North! May the downtrodden find their faith by the Constellation of Hope! And may all those who are willing find a most holy sanctuary in the heavenly embraces of the Lord of Stars!"

The Adept of Redemption had gathered a sizable crowd today with his sermons, it filled his heart seeing so many listening to the holy canon of the Order. He had been preaching since before dawn when the first merchant were setting up for the day and he had planned to only leave upon sundown for a short rest and then attending to his nightly duties of studying the cosmos. Standing atop his makeshift alter, he had managed to build up his tiny holy spot fairly nicely in the weeks since he had arrived in Melin. He had found the cloth to drape over several crates to form an alter, a worn rug he found by the side of the road was folded on itself and used as a spot to knee before the alter should any willing converts come forth. A pair of broken dressers was saved from being scrapped and was now used as a confessional booth; the Adept had heard many, many confessions from the townsfolk, some mundane, some scandalous and a few honestly a bit terrifying, but through his fait hand vows, Adept kept them close and told no one. Even though most only came to get something off their chests, the simple act of confession seemed to help them cope with their lives.

A brave soul stepped forth from the ringed crowd and kneed on to the moth-eaten rug in front of the alter. The man seemed pale and wasted, a long robe that had been torn and sewn back together more times than the man could probably count covered his frame. In his hands, he clutched a soft hat, likely the only article of value on his person and bowed to the Adept of Redemption, "G-good sir! W-what does the S-star Lord say of a m-man such as m-myself?"

One good look and Adept had already read him like a bool. The man of obviously poor and had been most of his life. The fact he did not cover his face agianst the winds with his hands spoke of how he likely slept outside, exposed to the elements for so long he got used to the gale. His pitiful excuse for shoes were little more than raw canvas strapped over his scarred and leathery feet with sinews of rope. A faint scent of alcohol spoke of a sad tale of bar tabs and tavern debts. In short, this was exactly the kind of man who needed some slim glimmer of faith and hope in his life - the glimmer, of a star.

"The stars speak of greatness for men such as thine self!" Adept softened his tone but kept his booming voice in the hopes that more would come forth, "I see that you are such a man who, poor in body, is rich and great in soul! Through the blessings of the constellations, I can see unto the soul, beyond the mortal flesh and see that you have seen the light of the Stars yet you are chained by fear! Embrace the choir within your soul that seeks communion with powers greater than you, than me, than any before us! Join us! Confess thou faith and thou shant fear no demon, no foe, no evil!"

The beggar man looked up at the Adept of Redemption and saw a holy light surround the priest, a golden glow of light shown off his brass accouterments and an aura of pious faith surrounded the white robes of the Adept. Silently he nodded and stood to his feet, Adept knew he was ready to embark on the great journey with the stars. "Brothers! Sisters! Bear witness as this man join the God of the Stars for he has seen the rainbow bridge across the skies to the realms beyond!" The Adept took some of his water and sprinkled it over the man as he walked in circles, chanting the ritual words, "May the Lord Solaris bless thee with courage! Amen! May the Lady Lunari bless thee with love! Amen! May the Astral Saints bless thee with righteousness! Amen! And may our Emperor Stellaris bless thee with his divine will! Good sir, what is your name!"

"I-its Leric..."

"Than Leric, do you confess your sins unto our lords?"

"Y-yes..."

"Do you wish to see the infinite wisdom of the cosmos?"

"Y-yes."

"Do you accept the divine astral canon to be holy writ and blessed law?"

"Yes."

"Then are you ready to form this most holy of bonds, this most sacred of covenants with the Stars!"

"Yes!"

"Then I pronounce you baptized in the holy radiance of a thousand stars! A hundred suns and a hundred moons! And the watchful vigilance of the Star God!" From the shadows in nearby stall, a pair of children bearing the sigil that the Adept had and tugged on the man's hands, playfully asking him to follow them and dancing around. Their exuberance brought on a faint crack of a smile on the man's face, the first he likely had in a long, long time. Together they made their way through the marked and towards an abandoned workshop that a number of previous converts were slowly being converted into a proper temple of the Star God, a Holy Observatory.

With the baptizing finished, Adept prepared to resume his preaching as he and his flock saw the airship finally coming into land. Although upset that his crowd was dispersing, Adept's eyes sparked when he saw the big man being escorted off the ship. He was huge and likely equally strong. The Order could always use strong guardians like him to protect the faithful, a warden against the abyss, a knight in only slightly rusted armor. Gathering his Astralnomicon, his staff and his censer, Adept parted the crowd as he made his way towards the airship, hoping that he would be able to spot where the man named Misha would betaken so that he may show the big man the vastness of the stars. Of course, that was the plan and that plan had gone out the window as soon as someone shouted a bounty on the ship's crew and gun fire broke out.

As the crowd either panicked or went wild, Adept simply slowed his pace down and began to ponder what could the Star God have meant through these events and if he had seen these in the constellations the night before or something, completely oblivious to the fact there was a very real chance of him getting trampled.

"It's a loser's gamble, see." Maurice had a cigarette between his teeth. Clouds of lazy smoke lingered in the air around him---the faint scent of tobacco, his constant companion. He was standing close to the edge of the crowd, far enough that he didn't feel trapped, but close enough. He had a mind to catch a ship.

"Ah." The man next to him was a spice merchant by trade. They'd only just met. "Think so?"

"Six men. Can't see any guns but I'd bet they're armed." The prisoner had just made his offer. "Even if you managed to free the beastman there..." He clicked his tongue.

"It's a lot of money."

"That it is." It was, it really was. Maurice could feel his trigger finger tap away at his breastpocket. He'd crossed his arms the moment the money was mentioned. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself to keep out of trouble, not at all. But trouble had one hell of a way to find him. "Why? Are you feeling tough today?"

"What about you, gunman?" The merchant lightly tapped at the rifle wrapped in cloth at his back, the sound of the wooden cane against the muzzle was loud enough for Maurice to flinch.

"It's that obvious, huh?" He'd thought it looked more a map than a gun. The merchant simply shrugged his shoulders---an eerie thing, beard or not, that reminded him too much of his mother. Clumsy Maurice, who couldn't fix a boiler or plug a leak if his life depended on it, she'd say.

"I wouldn't trust you to wrap my meals, son. I'll tell you that much." The merchant patted his shoulder and limped away, just a few moments before the first shots rang out.

A loser's bet, Maurice thought. The pack with his clothes had hit the ground, and his rifle was out, before the first men began to flee. Chaos, blood and splattered brains. How quickly the scene had changed, and all it had taken was a loser with a bet to be won---a madwoman with a gun, and a hundred Dits in her pocket already.

Leave now, Maurice. It's not worth dying for. Fuck, but he really should. He pressed the butt of his rifle against his shoulder, and reached down to grab his pack... when the first of the crew noticed him. A young fellow, with a couple scars and a frightened look in his eyes. His boss's brains were splashed all over his boots, and his mate was on the ground, clutching at his busted kneecap, so Maurice couldn't blame him. But scared or not, perhaps precisely because of it, he reached for his revolver.

"Don't do it..." Maurice cursed his luck. The crewman's fingers tightened around the grip of the handgun, eyes fixed on him, much too scared of death to realize what a terrible misunderstanding it all was. Maurice dropped the pack, and shouldered his weapon. By misunderstandings and ill intent, the blood spilled on the wasteland could be measured.

He squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, and the bullets ripped away the crewman's face in a bloody explosion of gore. A lucky hit, Maurice lamented. He'd aimed for the man's hand.

More revolvers were drawn. Screams joined the panicked sound of boots against stone, and Maurice Pfeifer became all too aware of how exposed he was. How deep in shit he was.

"Hit the fucking ground!" He set his iron sights on the next unlucky bastard to have the misfortune of being there, and hoped to mercy none of them had the balls to gamble their lives. He certainly hadn't planned to.

Well this was fun, to say the very least. When the first gunshot turned the wannabe captain's head into mashed potatoes Charlotte was already in action, the next rounds to follow only increased her chances of success. This was not Charlotte's first, or even third kidnapping, she knew pirates and mercenaries by now, at least what one can glean from chains and hanging off the side of a moving airship. Her time spent at the bar in Scrap also meant she knew how things like this went, then again, she could not remember half the time she spent in the bar due to the hazy filter the hard alcohol provided. All in all, like most if not all of her dealings with pirates, it was a bad idea.

Charlotte whimpered as the first round eradicated the captain, pressing herself backwards against the man who held her, internally enjoying the almost palpable air of Confusion and Terror he radiated by the time the next few shots echoed. Charlotte hid her smile as the man eagerly backed away from the fray, clutching Charlotte's arm as if trying to save her. By this point she was already at work.

Now, it may seem unfair, but after the first two kidnappings, you tend to want to avoid others whenever possible. Charlotte did not have that luxury, though good thing for her, the people she found herself attracted too were often curvy women of the criminal sort, hence her having learned how to pickpocket and pick simple locks.

By the point the man had backed himself into a corner readying to fire HER revolver, Charlotte had already dropped the cuffs and aimed Bennie, her wrench, at his head like a baseball player. It only took one swing, and Charlotte tried not to gag with a smile as she braced her foot against his back and tugged the wrench free of him.

At this point Charlotte scooped up her revolver and sighed, the fighting itself was not exactly her thing. Sure it was fun every once in a while to brain a guy, or chuck something at somebody when she was pissed, but bullets passing by her head was not her idea of fun. She shrugged and kicked away the body of the guy who held her, walking at a leisurely pace in Misha's direction, as if the beast of a man needed any help, with one of the guys holding him shot already Misha should have had no problem freeing himself, but Charlotte found herself standing near him anyways, just in case somebody in the crowd got a little too eager and shot in her direction.

All hell broke loose on the platform. When the first shot rang, many of the more timid members in the crowd began to run away, and most of the people backed away. But the few who did act instantly upon the bounty did incredibly fast. Notably the mercenary named Reva, who took the first shot, and already rushed to the first hostage to untie him.

The man offered his hands to be cut, and sighed in relief as he was finally free of the rope's bond. He looked over at the dead captain before leaning down and picking up the hat that the corspe had no use for anymore. It fit him perfectly. "Don't worry about that lass. Captain Oliver is as good as his word!" He exclaimed before turning around to take a look at the mayhem.

The bright pink haired girl took out her own captor with a large monkey wrench that echoed pleasantly over the sound of gunfire. She ducked behind Misha for cover, which proved to be a great decision once one of the large man's captors was shot. With a thundering laugh, Misha silenced the gunfire for a moment. "HAHAHAHA! Chains can't hold me! You puny man are no match for Misha!" His bellowing words stuck fear into the hearts of the last three crew members who promptly decided it wasn't worth dying for a captain who was the first casualty in the heat of the battle. They dropped their guns and surrendered in a heartbeat.

It was all over as quick as it started. Gunshits rang, the fake captain died and all eyes focused on the thundering Misha who stood above the surrendering crewmates imposingly. The rest of the crowd didn't even have time to properly draw their guns and engage.

"Thanks for the rescue laddies! This is the last time I hire these pirate scum for anything!" He said non chalantly as he adjusted his hat and looted the captain for a pair of keys dangling from his waist. "As promised, those who helped will get their hundred Dits. And seeing how that was supposed to be my crew-" He gave a vicious glance at the three man who had their hands in the air while he walked over and removed Misha's handcuffs. "The Magnificent will be parked here for the rest of the day. She is a tad bit short of hands now, so don't be afraid to try your luck." He finished and pat Misha's arms and looked over to Charlotte to make sure she was OK. He then turned back to the ship and walked back inside, quickly disappearing into the small cockpit. "You two!" Misha boomed and looked at Reva and Maurice. "Come!" He gestured towards the ship in a way that didn't take no for an answer. Of course, why would they refuse getting paid?

A large majority of the crowd dispersed as the fight began, and only a small amount of them dwindled back when it was finally over. But seeing the imposing Misha stand guard in front of the ship, and the dead pirates, a lot of them decided this was too dangerous for them. Only a handful of souls remained on the paltform now, along with the utterly terrified port officer, and the man in the whit suit who stood out like a shining beacon.

Arriving near the end of what looked to be a surprising series of events, Booker could only express his disappointment at missing the light show. However as per usual, his attention was immediately caught by the larger ship and comparatively, large man. Whipping his head wildly around Booker took in the corpses, cut bonds and general lack of the crowd to mean that something big had happened. In his mind of course, he imagined a group of pirates swinging in from above and swiftly taking down the unassuming captain and crew, with the port officials quickly silenced. Booker could care less if this was the truth or otherwise. All he cared about was the possibility of a job and adventure.

Pushing through the small crowd still surrounding the ship, Booker sprinted towards the group that was boarding, managing somehow to trip and fall once in the process. Stopping for a moment and peering over the corpses Booker let out a small inquisitive mutter of “quite dead, isn’t he.” Before jerking his head to the muscular, and likely more alive fellow near the door of the ship. Walking up to the man was like walking up to a bear, so much so that Bookers lanky body provided a stark contrast to the few watching. Not missing a beat, stated up into the mans eyes and shouted “BOOKER LAVERNE!”

After a moment of initial confusion and stuttering, he clarified “my name I mean, that’s my name!” Not waiting for a response, Booker went into his usual spiel about how cool he was with a “no no, watch this and THEN tell me you don’t want me on your crew!” With a level of precision and skill that no one expected from the bumbling young man, he quickly fastened on the gas mask that he had collared on his neck. Unstrapping several sturdy looking cables that were crossed all around his body, Booker jumped on the ship while throwing several into various points around. Astonishingly, the skinny individual used these cables to quickly and securely crawl around the exterior of the ship, like some sort of spider-man hybrid. Patching a few holes in the hull with relative ease, he hung upside down in front of the large man and with a broad grin exclaimed “okay, now can I come Bear Man?”. It was clear as Booker stared into his imposing eyes, that no matter how this turned out it was going to be his best adventure yet.

|+| ADEPT |+|

Blood pooled on the metal flooring like red creeks that formed into crimson lakes as the last of the gunfire died down. A man claiming to be one "Captain Oliver" and the potential holy warrior Misha looked triumphant as the final three pirates who gave up their arms we now on their knees on the docks, the sun beaming down on them. One of them had a shoulder pauldron that gave a quick flash of light straight into Adept's face and the cultist felt the universe flow through him.

His eyes opened into the Realm of Star, the Void Above. His mind rushed through the cosmos like a rocket on a sea of black and he could only make out things in passing. The constellation of wonder at half tilt; a waning gibbous peering down upon the world; the blessed Ark of Armstrong; the constellation of mercy shinning brightly with Polaris at its head, Venus in full light; seven rings of Saturn above a blinding white light. And above all others, every star-saint in the Constellation of Redemption shone with the light of ten thousand fires. The stars had spoken to him, yes spoke in their ancient ethereal tongue they had. The Adept of Redemption had been shown the way in a blinding vision of faith and had the confidence of the universe behind him as he walked for the universe told him his path.

"Captain!" the preacher's voice carried with it the authority and confidence of a man personally touched by gods as he walked towards the ship only to see the man in question dissapear into the metal machine. Cursing under his breath, the Adept searched for someone else who could get him on the ship. Looking once more to the big burly man he thought of as a prime candidate for a warrior of faith, Adept directed himself towards Misha, "I believe that you will require a navigator for your ship!"

The Adept began to slowly walk over to the trio of defeated pirates, parting the crowds like ancient prophets with seas, "I am part of a mystic order of devotees to the God Star and its servants; I, as does most of my order, know a great deal on navigating through the use of heavenly bodies as we study them constantly. I have acted as navigator and priest aboard many a ships before and demand little; I am will to sleep anywhere and willing to take reduced pay."

"However," Adept stepped in front of the three pirates and looked down at them. He could see the mild fear in their eyes, the worried looks as the Adept towered over them and could feel their breaths in the air, "I simply request I may be allowed to spread the Gospel of the Stars and in addition, to take these three men aboard as my disciples."

Three jaws hit the ground harder than hand grenades against settlement walls. Rationalizing the priest's words was baffling and utterly bizarre, the lot of them would barely consider themselves religious, believing pirate traditions and myths at best. They were pirates, crooks and criminals, and yet this man wanted them to become his followers?

"I will personally vouch for them and in addition I shall tend over them and they shall sleep with me in my quarters. I shall watch over them and tend to their spiritual wellness as well as the crew's. In time they may even prove to be valuable crew members trained for I have seen the goodness in their hearts and their willingness for redemption in their souls. If nothing else, I presume they already have some experience in the running of the vessel which could be most useful."

Stepping back a few steps, Adept went through a fairly dramatic process of introducing his name, showmanship was a key component of preaching after all, "And if you are wondering who I am, I am an Adept of Redemption of the Celestial Chantry, at your most magnificent service."

Above the Wastes - Sarah Steel

One of the people who stayed and watched the fight - albeit from a safe position behind a crate - was weapons manufacturer and merchant Sarah Steel, who stood up and dusted herself off once the skirmish was over. She then walked towards where the True Captain and the 'Good Samaritans' who had rushed to help the former were gathering and asked their second-in-command (Misha, was it) as politely as possible, "May I speak to your captain? I am not applying to be a crewmember, by the way, but a client; I need transportation immediately."

A few moments followed, and if she was allowed to speak further, she would continue, "My name is Sarah Steel; Weapons Manufacturer, and while I am not interested in being your crewwoman, I do want to be you and your crew's client; I am seeking transportation back to my family and business at Urbanesc."

She was addressing the female mechanic as well, just in case that Misha wasn't a subversion of the 'unintelligent dumb muscle' trope.

Upon closer inspection, Sarah could be seen holding a suitcase, a suitcase which she let down and opened, revealing not gold or cash, but rather a new type of assault rifle; one that resembled an ancient Kalashinkov - assuming that anyone in this day and age still knew it - with a coilgun barrel and power cell attached to it; the rest of the suitcase contained more power cells and tungsten bullets. "This is my company's latest product, the Nikiforov-18. Basically a blend of salvaged Pre-Fall combat technology combined with the gunsmithing techniques already developed and rediscovered by the various towns and cities of the Wasteland."

Sarah looked self-possessed and confident, but it was a clear possibility that she was hiding something, namely the fact that her money was inaccessible right now and she was offering her new gun and gun model as payment for passage. A pause as she herself considered the ramifications of lying, all the while ignoring the Cosmic Adept and his attempts at acquiring 'free converts'. She then settled for saying, "And yes, it's true that I don't currently have access to my bank account right now, but..." The woman gestured towards the crate that she had hidden behind. "That crate over there is my property, filled with weapons like the one I showed you; I was having them shipped for a sale when my transportation just disappeared."

A purse of her lips. "I blame my business rivals; my botched deal had Petrov's fingerprints all over it."

@6slyboy6@Chronosity@Letter Bee

When rifle fire cracked behind her, Reva dropped to a knee and swung towards the fire…only to stop and realize the shooter was also firing at the airship crew. Moments later the gunfire stopped and the remaining ‘crew’ dropped their irons. ”And here come the roaches…” She muttered as several people emerged from cover.

As the real captain made his way back aboard ship, with promises to be true to his word, the man-mountain bade Reva and the rifleman she’d nearly taken a shot at to come. ”Be there in a tick.” Bending over the man she’d shot, she gave him a quick pat down, coming out with a few Dits, a pistol that might scare a Dock-Rat if they didn’t get a good look at it, and a few spare rounds for the little pop gun. Pocketing all of that, she made her way back to her gear and hoisted it up, before making her way back to the ship. In the time it’d taken her to do that, a preacher-man whom she recognized from around town, a kid, and a surprisingly well dressed woman where all vying for Misha’s attention. She couldn’t help but wince as the kid put on an, admittedly well done, display that took way too many liberties with a ship he didn’t know. ”Stunt like that could get you killed with the wrong crowd.” She said as she moved passed. ”Most captain’s take exception to a man touchin’ his ship without permission.” She ignored the preacher-man and his new ‘disciples’, instead focusing on the other woman.

”Well hello beautiful,” She purred as the other woman made her play to actually hire the ship with a heater the like of which Reva had never even dreamed about. ”And you’re a bit of a looker to.” She smirked as the other woman looked her way. Moving passed all that, she bounded up the companion way and boarded the Magnificent. Form follows function, so even though the ship was unfamiliar, applying a little logic let Reva find Captain Oliver rather quickly. Gear still slung over her shoulders, she rapped her knuckles against the bulkhead to get his attention. ”So, Captain,” She said, propping a shoulder against the wall. ”I’ve got a deal for ya. Since you need crew, and to be honest I want the fuck outta this place, I’ll sign on at the standard crew rate, plus the Dits owed and any ammo expenses.” She raised an eyebrow as she spoke to emphases her point. ”For that you get one mean bitch of a Gunner who knows her way around all sorts of pirate ruses and can keep this ship clear of them. Savvy?”

Blood money. Maurice was no stranger to it. It was his own at first, spilt on hot rock and cold iron machinery, working the depths of the earth for muddy water. Now as before, with his knees on the warm stone and his fingers pressed to the crewman's neck, it was strangers' blood.

The man's pulse died away but a moment after his chest stopped heaving. His face was undone, turned to ribbons of flesh drenched in gore, splintered bone, and oozing gray matter. But the body struggled until the end, and Maurice held on. He did not bother with words, though he felt no joy in it. The pirate's arms twitched and jerked well after the last beat of his heart, and he lay still.

"I'll take that money, Captain," he said, more to himself than anyone else, and let the dead man's corpse fall softly to the ground. He stood and dusted himself, faced the ship and moved on. Men died, bullets were spent, and Dims changed hands. That was the way it was for people like them.

He turned to the woman, the mercenary who had fired the first shot. She rushed past, eager to get her due. To be mad at her for the lives wasted on that port would be bullshit on him. His mother had raised no bullshitter. What devils prowled the wasteland knew, he'd done his fair share of wasting.

He followed after her---pausing by the beastman, Misha, to offer a nod---and into the captain's cockpit. Animated, eager, she cut to the chase. Once done, Maurice had little to add.

"As she said, Captain." He pulled from under his belt a bundle of papers. Pages scribbled-on by men he'd worked for, pages he couldn't read. Trust and the loyalty between men who'd bled and killed for each other were the worth he gave to those pages.

"I've served aboard the 'Heroic', with Captain Mortain, from the Deepwell Company, down in the South. Captains O'Ciara, from the 'Indomitable' and Kelly, from the 'Forgotten'. Done work for others, too." He offered his contracts as proof. "For what it's worth, Captain."

Misha eyed as the two bounty hunters made their way into the bowels of the airship. He especially eyed Reva cautiously, almost bumping into her as she passed by. But he urged gimself not to for the sake of the captain and upholding an image of himself. For now. He returmed the Maurice's nod with less caution, though he took a good look at the man too. He didn't like the captaon hiring more guns, but he really didn't have a choice in the matter. With options not in his hand, Misha diligently admitted himself to guard duty and took place in front of the walkway to the ship.

"It's alright now little girl, you are safe from bad pirates." His voice boomed as he looked over to Charlotte to give her a reassuring smile. "Misha will protect you!" He laughed whole heartedly and pat Charlotte's back several times. Poor girl.

He was distracted however as a man came up to him in introduction. Appereantly he was named Booker Laverne. Not that Misha cared much for that, he could've been named John Sparrow for all he cared. He was about to give a crass response to the man, but clearly he didn't want to wait around. He just fixed a gas mask and jumped off the platform and onto their ship, much to Misha's amusement and anger. "Get off my girl you imbecile!" He shouted, but before he could tale actions a couple of weird individuals approached the ship as well. Clearly, they all wanted to talk, and he couldn't quite send them away without the captain. Misha cursed his predicament, and turned over to the priest.

"We don't need crazy folk around here like you, star man!" He exclaimed and looked over at the pirates. He had a murderous glint in his eyes, and they all turned away from him in an instant. "You can do whatever you want with those three, but you are not setting a foot on the ship until the captain comes back!" Misha crossed his arms intimidatingly. He couldn't care less what the priest did with those traitorous pirates, but he positiviely didn't want a crazy priest on board. He just hoped the caltai would be of a similar mind too.

"And you, weapons lady!" He adressed Sarah and glanced over at the weapon she was carrying. "This isn't a transport ship! Do you not see?!" He was getting upset at all the people gathering around. Misha never liked to talk with strangers, he knew he sucked at it. He just cursed the captain for leaving him alone like that, they always get hogged by recruits at ports. It should've been him to stay out here, while Misha could give the mercenaries their money. "All of you, stand back!" He shouted with a deep bellow. The air rang still after his voice had seemingly calmed the crowd. "Misha is in good mood, so he will not punch all of you! But you will all stay there until captain comes back! Amd you!" He turned over to Booker. "Get off before I hurt you!"

---

Meanwhile, Oliver has lead Reva and Mazrice inside the small cabin area. It was just spacious enough for the three of them clearly it was the cockpit judging by the steering wheel and equipment in the front of it, and a stray ladder going upwards indicated that the ship was bigger than it first seemed.

He had just finished listenining to their proposals. "Lady, Gent, I am happy to hear of your steadfast spirit!" He smiled and sat down on the edge of the only table in the room. "And yes, we do need new crew members. You two made quick work of the previous ones. Those treacherous bastards..." He shook his head and took a good look at the two.

The girl, Reva, she seemed like a powderkeg ready to explode. But if she exploded at the right time, it would prove to be quite useful for the crew. The man, Maurice, he was somethibg else. He was well mannered, perhaps too much for the world around him. Still, he seemed like he wouldn't stray from dirty work. Something that is a highly appreciated skill among crews.

Misha's voice made the glasses resonate as it almost passed through them unfiltered. It seems like he was causing trouble again. Oliver took a qzick peek outside before adressing the mercenaries. "Fine, I gave it a quick think. I'll hire you both, because I am afraid Misha might kill all other applicants." He pat the table he was sitting on. "But if you want the Magnificent to be your new home, you'll let go of the blood money. You take either the creds or the job. I don't want a crew who hungers only for my money."

Charlotte herself was happy it was all over, gunfights were not exactly her thing, actually the more she thought about it the only redeeming quality about being aboard the ship was the fact she could see an airship in something other than a barely recognizable wreck. She cared little for the two the captain brought aboard, Mercanaries may as well be pirates as far as Charlotte was concerned.

She actually chuckled when Misha called her a little girl, she appreciated the protection of the large man even if she could take care of herself, the more people he crushed meant the less people SHE had to crush. The ramblings of the old man were amusing to say the least, but Charlotte did not exactly want him near her. She pitied the three survivors though, really it was be killed by Misha or be recruited into a cult by a madman. Charlotte would have thrown herself off the airship if given the choice.

She had vaguely noticed the other people approach and tried to ignore the young man chucking himself off the side of the ship that Misha was yelling at. At the moment, she was distracted by the woman who spoke to Misha, and Charlotte to an extent, about her boarding the ship. Charlotte did not exactly remember what the woman was saying and it took a good minute for Charlotte to realize she was staring at her.

" Like Misha said, wait for the captain. I myself obviously have no say in this but Misha is also right unfortunately, this is not a transport ship. "

@6slyboy6

Let go of the..? Motherfucker… As Captain Oliver spoke the words, Reva’s eyes got colder and harder. ”That. Wasn’t. The. Deal.” She said quietly, an iron hard edge to her voice. ”You said, a hundred Dits for each dead man…” As she spoke, a hand strayed to her belt, not to the grip of her pistol but to the handle of a large knife. Remember my words dockside when I cut you loose?

She gave every impression of being about to strike, when she stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her hand stopped moving, balling into a fist so tight that her weathered knuckles went white for a moment, before relaxing and dropping back to her side. Her eyes opened and she stared at Oliver once again. ”I dislike being dicked around,” She said after a moment. ”But my desire to get the fuck outta this ville outweighs everything else.” The edge to her voice was fading, but it was plain that she was distinctly unhappy. ”I’ll take the job, you keep the Dits, but this doesn’t happen again…savvy?”

Staring at Capt. Oliver for a moment longer, Reva turned away and moved deeper into the Magnificent in search of a place to store her gear.

Above the Wastes - Sarah Steel

Sarah smiled as she received a very flattering comment from the female mercenary, taking a glance to briefly check her out as she said, "You're attractive as well, but I'm currently looking for a husband to continue my family. After that, though..."

A bit of flirty banter, before she chuckled, hoping to give the impression that she wasn't actually serious... Much. These people are dangerous, so she had to project an air of untouchability. Then the female mercenary left, and it all went downhill as Misha outright refused her and the Adept's offers. Sarah was tempted to be outraged, but decided to wait for the mechanic girl to say anything.

Then it turned out that said mechanic girl was turning her request down as well. So Sarah just sighed, and said, "I see."

Scanning Misha with her eyes, Sarah knew that the man was ironclad in his desire to keep her out of the ship. And if the mechanic girl was going along with him. This was going to be difficult...

There would be other ships. There always were, especially in places like Melin. One of those might take him, but it might not. It could be days before a new vessel docked in, weeks even, and it was never a certainty he'd make it onboard. Now, the offer was there in front of him, and the money was but a boon he could live without. At least, for the time being.

"I'll take the job," he said, and stepped aside to let the woman storm past him. Her words, the way her fingers strayed so close to her blade, it all had put him on edge. He'd seen men keel-hauled for less---dragged by their ankles with ropes, across the scorching wasteland, to be flayed by sand and rock---and he hadn't the measure of this Captain Oliver. Not yet. "I'll be happy to get some shut-eye, Captain. It's been a strange afternoon."

Swindled on the first day, what a bitter thought. He tucked his contracts back into his belt, and only then realized his palms were lightly coated in sweat. He tried not to let it show, but the threat of violence hung heavy on his nerves, and all on account of the same person. That woman meant trouble. If only for herself, or all of them, only time would tell.