---

---

While the others finished their shopping and returned to the cart, Solange busied herself by prepping a potion to ease the fire burning in Maréngo’s stomach caused by last night’s carousing and nothing more. She leaned forward from the barrel in which Neh’miah was pickling and set down her handwritten journal in front of her. Detailed diagrams of stems and leaves painted the pages between the fine, flowing script of her notes and recipes. Shorthand and jargon popped up like weeds throughout the paragraphs, making the writing almost nonsensical to anyone but the author. It was intentionally obtuse by design. Solange didn’t want any prying eyes to suss the nature of some of her more sinister serums.

She paused on a page and pulled roots and leaves out of her pouch. A vial was produced next, knocking against the one filled with the true culprit as she removed it from her bag, followed by a flask of clean water. Her hand disappeared up her sleeve to retrieve a foldable pocket knife. The well-maintained blade shaved off a slice of ginger root. She chewed the ginger vigorously, breaking it down to a pulp, and spat it into the vial. A pinch of salt followed, joined with a few crushed, dried leaves milled between Solange’s fingers that left the tips a deep crimson. She filled the vial with some distilled water, so focused she didn’t even spill a drop as Skarsat loudly cracked Neh’miah’s barrel right behind her so the poor thief wouldn’t suffocate, and put her thumb over top of it to give it a shake.

Her eyes paused on the tainted coffee vial secured in her pouch. There was still room in the potion for a little more liquid. She glanced over at Maréngo. The sailor wasn’t without his sharpness, but he was distracted with his new pet and the kindly gesture of making him a stomach soother was all Solange really needed. Yet her cheek still stung from Skarsat’s slap, prodding her towards the sensible choice. She passed the vial to Maréngo and clocked one of the Sheriff’s men behind his shoulder as Y’vanna set some crates on the cart.

“Here you are, my love. Drink all of it now. It may not outright absolve you from revelry’s revenge, but it shall stymie some of the more severe symptoms. Avoid alcohol—I know, darling,” said Solange, feigning a pained expression and clasping a hand to her heart, “—and drink plenty of water. As well, as adorable as Pyka is, save the rest of those plantains for yourself. They’ll help amplify the elixir.”

A protective hand shut down to her satchel as Nora jerked the reins, setting the cart in motion. A dark cloud of frustration stormed past Solange’s face as she quickly gathered her gear before it could slip off and sat back against the barrel with a huff, knocking poor Neh’miah yet again. She let her legs dangle from the back of the cart, kicking them as they slowly progressed through the market. The cries of the gulls from the nearby dock stirred up a feeling of excitement. This was actually happening. The moment the boat set sail she would be free from both her obligations to Fontaine and her false promises to Vargas. She put a hand up to her mouth, disguising a chuckle as a clearing of her throat. What was the split Vargas had offered? Sixty-forty, minus the deductions she owed? It was fortunate he never spoke with her sister. Perhaps then he’d know that she wasn’t good at sharing.

The sun felt nice on her skin and the future looked bright. Nora and Y’vanna proceeded onward with all the seriousness of a funeral procession as Pyka whined on Maréngo’s shoulder, but Solange felt like playing. She turned towards Skarsat with mischief on her mind, but the thought was suddenly shaken by the sight of another of the Sheriff’s men. No, this was the same one. A strange coincidence? He was looking their way, but was he actually watching? Solange stared directly at the guard, raised a closed fist up next to her chin, and pumped it twice as she puffed out her cheek. The raised eyebrows and turn of the head confirmed her suspicion.

Solange’s brow furrowed as she straightened her back and stretched, using the moment to scan the crowd. She recognized a few other of the Sheriff’s men, some from this morning and some from nights at the Red Sail Brothel. They were positioning themselves apart, posting up at crowded intersections or in front of alleyways. Solange looked over her shoulder past Nora. It was becoming clearer that they were being funneled. She turned back and the first guard she had vanished into the crowd. In his place she saw Gerranti on the move with a look of determination on his face. I would advise none of you to be around when I find this Neh’miah. Gerranti’s warning echoed in her head. Son of a bitch, they’d been ratted out!

“Don't look behind you, sweeties, but we've been outplayed by the Sheriff. It appears like his whole constabulary is here to charge us for the crime of smuggling absolutely fucking stupid cargo,” said Solange, venom dripping from her voice as she eyed the crate of alchemist fire. She turned her head towards Nora. “Darling, can this thing move faster?"

Solange's Misfortune

Maréngo

---

Maréngo watched with interest as Solange mixed and mashed bits of plant matter together into some kind potion. He'd met a few witch doctors and bokors in his time as a pirate and had watched them perform similar acts so he had no trouble with downing the entire mixture in one go. The ginger gave it a noticeable tang while the leaves added a more herbal flavor. Not a bad drink but certainly not his favorite.
"Could use a splash of rum," he commented as he passed the vial back to her.

He took a deep breath in and smelled the salt and fishy reek of the docks. The smells and the sound of seagulls overhead comforted him. The sea was his home and it always would be. He reached into his shirt and ran his thumb across the carved amulet hanging from his neck. Surely he was a favored sailor to survive as long as he had. Lord Leathe had shown him great mercy and he would not take lightly the gift of his very life. Although he still mourned the loss of his comrades he was more than happy to live on and keep their memory close to his heart. After all, there was still plenty of excitement and adventure left to be had. Only when his name was sung in pirate bars and spat on by bounty hunters the world over would he even consider retirement.

As he was making a mental note of his back alley pharmacist's instructions, he spotted a few of the sheriff's men who seemed to be looking right at him. The first one or two he dismissed as gawking at his new pet but it soon became too many to be coincidence. Being a pirate came with it's drawbacks and one of them was almost always being outnumbered by law enforcement whenever he was on dry land. This wasn't the first time he had experienced a race to the ship but this time they had the advantage of surprise. Their pursuers didn't know they knew they were being followed just yet.

Pyka also seemed to pick up on the fact they were being watched. He grew fidgety and clung tightly to his new owner as his eyes shifted back and forth across the crowd. Shaking Maréngo's sleeve, he hooted at a guard that was doing a particularly poor job of hiding himself in the crowd and stamped his feet in agitation. The pirate couldn't help but smile despite the situation. This impulse purchase might be an even better idea than he thought. Well, it could be if lived to tell about it.

Avoiding eye contact with any of the sheriff's men, he busied himself with inspecting the cargo.
"She's right. They're cuttin' off our exits so we'd better make a break for it now while they don't know that we know they're gunnin' for us."

Skarsat had already felt the itch on the back of his hand to clench his fist and to liberate all of the poor air around that was imprisoned in a space without Neh'miah, without any chance to see the marvelous inside of the glorious man's nostrils ever again. It would have been a quick and easy move to ram a breathing hole into the wooden barrel and, while some people around them might have wondered about why he did this, none of them would have had the authority or even just the bare means to stop them due to any kind of upcoming suspicion.

The bar had been raised, however. A lot.

Skarsat was not in the cart with the others, but walked next and halfway behind it and did not care much about the busy market behind him he had already seen inside out. So the sheriff's men approaching them from that direction did go undetected by his attention initially, but either the booze had not yet left Solange's system in sufficient quantity and she was talking utter bullshit, or they had a problem. His gaze turned towards her and maybe she could see that, maybe for the first time ever, he was actually taking her seriously and not as the unscrupulous bitch she was already marked down as in his mind. What she said made just too much sense.

That brief moment of appreciation was likely doomed to remain the only one of its kind this morning however as the Tork man realized that Solange, despite her mouth actually making useful noise for a change, still was yet another ass aside Neh'miah's that did not help move things forward. Skarsat's eyes wandered towards Maréngo and quickly deduced from the man's obvious lack of engagement to get himself going instead of talking that the pirate would not be of much help either. Now could at least that new pet of him take off and help pushing ?

Of course Pyka didn't...

Skarsat considered whether he should spare himself the effort and claim that suddenly going to higher speeds would only shed the spotlight on them while it was not yet ascertained that the sheriff's men were actually looking for Neh'miah and knew he was with them, but it was a false hope. This thief had stolen some important stuff, but even more so he was now stealing all of their neves! And so Skarsat's hands reached for the sides of the cart as he positioned himself right behind it, his body leaning forward more and more and his feet digging into the ground and trying to find some grip on whatever protruding cobblestone he could find. Maybe it was a bit of a start too flamboyant as Y'Vanna's feet now were in serious danger of being rammed into the mule's dirty rear as long as the latter's speed wasn't synchronized with the cart again, but Skarsat could hardly care less.

They were in danger, and so was his chance of proving that he was not the annoying, useless, ludicrously oversized foreigner refusing to endulge himself in the local supply of vine for it now were exactly these properties that seemed to make him the perfect choice for making that thing go faster as requested! Just knowing that those who had tried to screw him would now be screwed without him was such a morale boost...

_{Awareness roll}

If you would have described Fu as being one of the most observant people on the planet you would have been wrong. It took bumping into a deputy for Fu to realize that something was up. The good news for Fu was they were not looking for him at the moment but others. Fu watched the scene playing out like a poorly planned game of Go. Pieces were bring flipped driving the thieves towards a trap of the Sheriff's choosing. Fu could not believe that they would use a wagon with a donkey. People would slow that down as they moved through the crowds. "These poor souls were going to need help!" Fu though to himself.

Fu started working his way through the crowd. Being shoved pushed back, it was clear that he was only going to go as fast as the crowd wanted to go. Trying to fight the stream was also drawing attention to him in the wrong way. Like his wearing white robes and carrying a colored stick was not enough to get strange looks from people to start with. Fu did the only thing he could think of. He headed for the rooftops.

Now to describe Fu as one of the most graceful people on the planet would also be a mistake. He started up a stall wall, onto the barn roof, then on to house. He released his spring loaded grapple and swung to the next building, landing flat then working his way up to the roof. Then it was a down hill sprint to get into position. It was slightly distracted by a woman preparing for a bath and an older couple that insisted that he have a cup of tea.

and ran leaping over the alley ways trying to get ahead of the wagon so he could set up an ambush.

---

---

Solange grabbed hold of the railing as Skarsat shoved the cart forward, surprised and a bit horrified that he was actually able to help move it faster than the mule. She began cackling madly and cheering for Skarsat, daintely waving her fingers at the Sheriff in a taunt as the cart began to cruise, but the jeers cut short as a bolt buried into the barrel that had served as her backrest. She heard a gurgling noise as she dove to the floor of the cart, dragging her supplies into her chest and burying her head down to protect her vitals. She heard two bolts whizz overhead and two howls.

Solange barely had time to lift her head as the cart veered to the right and crashed into a stack of crates. She was bucked upwards and kicked her foot out and luckily caught it under the railing as her hand braced under the opposite side, preventing her from being tossed. Aside from a stubbed toe and a splinter or two on her finger she was fine. Amazingly, she’d avoid being tossed. She laughed nervously as she climbed out of her cart, her supply pack cradle to her chest like a newborn babe. Solange crouched low to make herself a smaller target.

For a moment, time slowed to a crawl. A mule was braying madly, caught in a limbo between life and death. A broken barrel leaked red, an unmoving limb draped out through a hole. Nora was snatched away, a happy moment in any other situation that was rained upon by the halberds being leveled towards Solange. Y’vanna fired a pistol, the sound of a man shrieking was like music. Gerranti red face hollered, two men cranking at their crossbows. Skarsat and Maréngo might be able to dance with a few deputies, but Solange had literally danced with some of these deputies at the Red Sail because she couldn’t even manage to slay a defenseless, unsuspecting woman without mucking the whole thing up. Drawing her dagger might as well be followed by falling on it.

She slung her pack over her back in hopes that it was dense enough to catch bolts for her and scrambled around the cart. She paused for a moment, scanning the wreckage for anything useful amongst the scattered and abandoned gear that belonged to Nora and Neh’miah. There was too much rubbish to dig through, so she snatched up the first bag she saw and began to flee towards the ship. She ran with her head ducked down, fearing the Sheriff’s men saw the back of her head like it was the red center of a practice target. Solange was determined to get to the docks.

Once she was in shouting distance she’d call out for Captain Griffin, barking what limited sailing terms she knew to get the old salt to get ready for a hot exit. Perhaps she could rouse some reinforcements from his crew. Perhaps the others would fall and she could stowaway instead. Perhaps she’d change her name, dye her hair, and live life out of Gnok. Perhaps she should focus on the immediate present instead of an uncertain future. The docks weren’t too far now. She just had to keep running.

Fu worked his way to the edge of the roof and watched as the fight unfold. The poor donkey took the worst of it, arrow wounds, and injuries. He had hoped to use the Sheriff and his men as a distraction to sneak about the ship. Now, it seemed that this cast of misfits needed a distraction so they could make it to the ship without being killed. Such an event would be inconvenient and costly.
Wim dropped his hand into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a single glass ball and held it in his right fingers. With his left hand, he moved in front of it making the single ball become two. Then with his other hand, he did a flourish like he was in front of a crowd now holding four. With a snap of his arm, while holding it up. Three of the balls disappeared into his sleeve and he was holding one. With a snap of his arm, the three glass balls in his sleave were projected out into the crowd of the Sheriff's men. He held up the one again making it disappear.

What ensued after was a bit of Chaos as the glass balls hit and the chemical reactions took place. Fu had planned to use smoke and the first one was. Thick black smoke erupted and started to billow in the street. Balls two and three were a glorious mistake. When the second ball hit, a concussive sound erupted with a bit of a shock wave from point of impact. Less than a second later the third ball hit with the same effect. One would have expected that shards of glass would have filled the air, but the rate of reaction and the thin glass made the glass into a fine powdery mist that would hard on the eyes, nose, and skin. The blasts would have done more damage with the shock wave on the ears.

When he saw the effect he did not take his bow, he started running again heading for the ship. It would not take long for someone to point out who had thrown those little bombs. He was the only one on the roof of the building running. He leaped across an alleyway landing on a rail of a porch falling through the window of a sailor's brothel and bouncing off of an occupied bed and onto the floor. He went grabbed the woman's dress and hat and pounded out the door as she screamed and the sailor was trying to recover enough to come beat him up.

In the Stairwell, he slid the dress over his head and placed the hat on his head. Then he let his long hair go loose. He worked his way down the stairs. On the landing, he grabbed two pieces of fruit and stuffed them into the top of the dress giving it some shape where it was needed. It was grapefruit and orange.

As men were running up the stairs, he moved out of the way and using a false voice and covering his face, he pointed upwards and said, "He's hiding up there." He went quicker down the stairs through the kitchen and out into a court yard that exited out onto the street.

Moving out he headed for the ship to figure out how he would sneak aboard.

From his position behind the cart, Skarsat had not so much insight into about where the whole cart was heading towards. His vision was blocked by empty containers, jars full of alchemist's fire, barrels serving as wooden wrappers for selfish bandits who had had enough bad luck not only for themselves but for the whole lot of people as well, and two other individuals whose uselessness had already been ascertained in the female and -- fortunately! -- not yet proven or disproven in the male case. Right now both of them made the effort of pushing only more difficult, only feeding Skarsat's desire to leave the job of steering in the hands of those who actually were in control of the pair of wheels that could turn.

Skarsat's ongoing thoughts shattered to pieces as he felt and heard something whizzing right through the gap between his arm and body as if through an almost ridiculously small archway. The barrel it hit, to use less harmful words, structurally failed and revealed its content just as the latter made the ultimate transition from life to death. In the brief moment before their mule's shriek announced the end of their short drive, Skarsat could see into Neh'miah's eyes. They were wide open almost as if the thief had seen that shot coming which, of course, was a thing of impossibility. Maybe the result of one last, uncontrolled stimulus as nerves had been severed and pushed aside by shattered bones ? The grotesque statue the man had been reduced to toppled over and landed on the ground butt-first as the cart veered to the right onto a collision course, the lethal bolt still sticking out at the back of the head and the front of the dislocated jaw.

"Get yer arse down, ye fecking hefty oaf...! Yer gonna get ye fecking head shot off!"

Y'Vanna's heavy accent brought Skarsat's attention back to the fact that difficulties had just begun. Not sitting on the cart had spared him from the worst of the impact, but he was still blatantly exposed indeed! The Tork man's shadow engulfed Y'Vanna for a fraction of a second as he jumped over the cart's remains, landing next to the woman with one massive noise.

"Get your driving skills up!" he snapped back at her, adding "And keep your head away from the cart. These crossbows are strong!" If one of those bolts could punch trough a barrel, it could probably also get quite a bit through the wooden boards in front of them and hit anybody who did not keep some fair bit of air between them and himself.

Skarsat was well aware of his new investment being slung right over his shoulder and just waiting for a first use. Space was quite an issue for a big man big bow combination if one had to remain covered for the sake of staying alive, but even more so would it be an issue for him to try and get to the shit without any of those four trained soldiers hitting him. It had almost worked before already... Perching on the dock's dirt and making his height as insignificant as possible, Skarsat readied his weapon and tried to make an educated guess about one of sheriff's men rough position by sound. He did not dare to raise his head above the cart's frame until he really had to for one quick, final correction of his aim.

And only as he was about to do that he noticed what their crazy madwoman was doing... This Solange dared to search and loot the shit out of their dead comrades while under fire! Now would she at least offer to share the spoils or would she keep everything to herself ? Hell why did he even wonder... However, just as much as Skarsat felt his profound aversion towards her refueled by her actions, he also found them to be quite useful for himself. The Sheriff's bowmen would probably pay less attention to him taking his final aim while looking -- or perferably just shooting at -- Solange's nice butt making a run for it, would they ?

The broadhead arrow cut through the air with a hissing noise. Skarsat really would have preferred to just kill Gerranti and thereby take the head of the snake instead of just cutting away a small slice of its tail, but Gerranti was in cover and one ranged fighter less still improved everyone's odds. So the individual hit was one of those with a crossbow just as the soldier got his hand off the crank. The man's breakfast was to suddenly find a second exit from his guts along with large quantities of blood as the armor had only provided insufficient protection against the broadhead. Gerranti's subordinate collapsed almost instantly and frantically pressed his hands against the disturbingly large arrow and its entry wound, but a few seconds later the cries became fewer and quieter already. So that was one quarter of the most immediate threat eliminated.

Still three quarters left though and they were running out of time as the melee fraction of Gerranti's men would certainly not wait forever until closing in. They had to get away from here and now there were three not only halfway disciplined, but also very angry shooters just waiting for anyone to come out of the cart's cover. The ship was just too far away for a mad dash, it would have to be a lunatic's dash!

That was, unless...

Skarsat's eyes wandered towards one of the cart's wheels that looked a bit dislocated as if its axle had partially cracked. To his delight he noticed that these were not some of those more delicate hub and spoke weels, but made by a much more primitive and heavy-duty design comprised of thick wooden boards bolted to each other in separate layers and ultimately carved into their final, round shape. That could work, at least for one of them! The Tork crawled towards the piece of equipment and did his best to complete the damage, yanking it off the axle's remains and figuring out how to get a good hold on it without exposing his fingers on the other side too much.

That was one very makeshift shield, but still a lot better than nothing and probably sufficient to protect him while moving ducked and someone much smaller than him while running. He'd only need it for one thing before handing it over to Y'Vanna and that was reaching Neh'miah's body. Searching it for the pricey stuff like that vulture called Solange ? Never! There were more speedy options available to extract any of the coins or other valuables the poor man had been carrying, options that even would preserve the chance to give the fellow anything similar to a proper burial at sea. And of course he'd be able to put it between him and the guards as a larger, thicker, softer version of a shield for himself while Y'Vanna used the wheel. Given the mess that Neh'miah's head had been turned into it would take an incrediby bad strike of luck to desecrate it any worse than the city's officials would, would it ?

"Y'Vanna ? Give me cover and tell me when at least some of them are reloading again!"

But... now what! Explosions ? Smoke ? There were too many weird things going off for Skarsat's poor mind to understand simultaneously... Now if he could only wait for the smoke to become the thickest and then get this body...

Maréngo

---

Maréngo had started to turn and tell the big oaf to stop pushing before the soldiers figured out the jig was up but the thought had no time to leave his mouth. Pyka screeched as the chaos unfolded and clung tight to his shirt as they were both tossed from the cart. The pirate tried his best to shield his new companion from the impact and earned a few bruises in the process. He lay on the cobblestone for a moment dazed and confused. It took him a moment to process the person being dragged away by the sheriff's men was the mercenary. What was her name again? Zora? Lora?... Nora

This was bad, very bad. They'd already lost one of their most capable fighters and things were quickly spiraling out of control. Maréngo looked toward the wreckage of the cart and the injured mule.
"So much for that." he muttered, trying to shake off the battering gravity and momentum had conspired to give him.
Having been in more than a few battles and having an ounce of common sense, he knew being in the open was a terrible idea. Extending his hand to Pyka, the monkey leaped toward him and grabbed onto his arm as he ran for cover. He dove beind the cart wreckage and ended up next to the massive Tork just as he fired his arrow. For all that impressive strength, the party was simply out matched by sheer numbers. Turning to Y'vanna, he watched her accept the makeshift shield and smirked.
"Good thinkin' big man!"
The pirate kicked at one of the remaining wheels until it came loose and he had a very sad excuse for a shield to call his own. He surveyed the scene around them and a thought came to his head.
"I have an idea to keep the sheriff and his dogs off us for a minute but things'll get very hot very fast. You two should get a move on before that."

Y'Vanna looked to the salty sailor with huge, widened eyes as she instantly she was aware of his intentions... he was going to try to ignite the the spoiled crate of alchemist's  fire and  Skarsat and herself were still way to close to it and were in immediate danger... and it was time to go.
"Oh, fekken hell!" she clamored, giving Skarsat's arm a hefty pull to urge his haste. "We better on with it, we gotta move now!"
She turned to the card's strewn about contents and then she saw it.. Nora's rifle, and her powder horn just a foot or so away. She made a quick attempt at grabbing Nora's rifle and horn along the way. She managed to grab the rifle but didn't have a free hand for the horn as she was clinging to her belts and scabbard.

Skarsat's eyes widened as he saw Maréngo and listened to his idea, then the Tork turned his head towards the smoke screen now blatantly visible even from behind cover.
"Do it, but I need to get Neh'miah!"
He grabbed his improvised shield, held it before as much of his humble self as he could, and moved forward towards the dead body. He headed for the very next thing of it he could grab, then had to let go of the wheel and just tossed it behind himself for Y'Vanna to pick up somehow. Of course all of this took longer than her quick pickup of Nora's rifle, but hopefully he would manage not to be entirely incinerated.

Maréngo grimaced at the sight of the Tork's grisly shield. That makes two fighters down before things even started which became three as he watched Solange's back disappear into the distance. Not that he blamed her, she absolutely had the right idea. With that in mind, he leaned out with pistol drawn and--

Smoke. Smoke fucking everywhere.

Black, billowing clouds engulfed the street and Maréngo reflexively ducked back behind the cart for a moment, thinking the alchemist's fire had somehow combusted just by him looking at it wrong, but that couldn't be. There was no heat, no flames, just smoke thicker than any fog he'd ever seen.
"What in the Nine Hells?"
After a moment of confusion, Maréngo thought better than to look a gift horse in the mouth; especially one that might help save his life. He moved back a few paces, said a quick prayer, and pulled the trigger. There was a crack of gunfire and the cobblestones erupted in flames. Even at a distance he felt the surge of scalding heat against his face as a bonfire surged to life in the middle of the street. The poor mule braying grew still louder as it kick and struggled to move away from the flames reaching out to lick at its fur. Maréngo felt a twinge of pity for the poor thing but wasted no time in tearing down the street at full tilt, holding the cart wheel behind him with one hand and a terrified Pyka close to his chest in the other. He waved the remaining party members on as he ran past them and his call came up from deep in his chest, loud enough to be heard over even a howling gale.
"MOVE!!"

When all hell started to break loose on the Docks, Fu decided it was time to move. The cannon blasts added such a nice touch to making everyone duck and cover.

In the confusion he headed towards the ship. This was the perfect distraction as long as he did not get shot by the sheriff’s men or from the cannons.

In then sailors scrambling on the dock, someone yelled at him, “Release the port bow Mooring line and make it snappy!”
Fu grabbed the line and lifted it around the post that was holding it. To his surprise the rope was heavier than he expected and he barely managed to free it. He was going to step into the loop and ride up on to the ship till the rope stated to slide off the dock and down into the water.

Seeing that this was a bad plan, He scrambled into a group of sailors that were grabbing the last of the items from shore and boarding the ship. Fu grabbed a small crate and headed up the plank. Cannon fire was the blessing that he needed to get onboard and get past the Captain and First Mate.

He set the crate down on the pile and moved to the starboard rail. The next salvo allowed Fu to head down the hatch stairs and gave him time to find a dry room to hide in.

---

---

Her dress was hiked up to her knees, the billowing skirt bunched together like the petals of a bouquet, as Solange focused on putting one foot in front of the other and praying to whichever gods were watching that she didn’t stumble over the excessive amounts of fabric. She had not run like this since she had come to Gullian. Behind her she could feel the presence of a ghost . The woman with black and silver hair screamed for the constables, her hand that was dried with blood wetting itself yet again as it pressed against the base of her neck. Ahead of her Solange saw the uncertain future as the white sails of the Pinned Seal unfurled as shouts from aboard drowned out her own call to the captain and mixed with the cacophony of reality and memory coming from behind her. She did not turn back to hazard a glance.

Solange kept running. Orders from the Sheriff to halt were ignored without a second of reconsideration—perhaps next time order a halt before pinning the skull of one of their companions to the inside of his rudimentary coffin. Her breathing grew heavy. The gangplank was almost right in front of her. She had nearly reached it when the cannon fired overhead, the blast so deafening that Solange’s hands instinctively let go of her dress and covered her ears. The long, bundled up fabric fell loose as she pressed on, her foot stepping on the hem of the dress. Her already racing heart nearly exploded as she felt herself begin to trip. Her hands reacted faster than her brain, snatching up her dress yet again as the explosion still rang in her ears. She felt some fabric tear as she did an awkward sidestep, but she kept her balance and kept going.

She only stopped once she made it to the top of the gangplank, two sailors hoisting her aboard as the ship began to shift forward. She stepped clear to allow room for the others to jump on as she finally took a moment to catch her breath and look at the pandemonium left behind. Black smoke swirled on the wind as a small fire burned on the street and began to engulf the cart, a man laid dead in the street with an arrow punched so deep in him that he looked like he’d been stabbed by a quill, and the top of a church stood smoking where the belltower once had been. Solange’s mouth gaped at the nameless bystanders, who seemed so small from the deck of the ship, trapped beneath the rubble from the tower. Some were squirming, others weren’t. Laughter echoed in her ears as she watched ants scrambled to lift the bell off of a person, a sailor pulling her back away from the firing line of the Sheriff’s men .

The captain was busy hollering orders. Once they were out of the bay and actually safe she would seek out a proper introduction, but for now Solange found herself an out of the way place to stand as the sailors set to work. In her hands she clutched the burlap sack she’d snatched from the streets and pressed it against her chest, pulling it away as she felt herself prodded by something sharp. She did not inspect further, her eyes too busy darting to and fro as they watched the men aboard the Pinned Seal work. As the adrenaline faded she was struck with the realization that she was only comfortable around sailors when they were too drunk to stand and being watched by oversized bouncers and hidden blades in the shadow. She craned her neck and looked for the others, trying her best not to appear shaken.

So first of all Neh'miah had tried to get them all into lethal jeopardy by meddling in the affairs of people who apparently were way too important to the city for its sheriff to just ignore the matter. Then their beloved (or rather not so) Solange had tried to abandon them by doing what she so far had always done: caring about herself and only herself. Just to back up these efforts and for general good measure Maréngo was not hesitant to set up a fireworks that had serious potential to consume more than just its propellant, but at least did singe Skarsat's body hair as the rapidly spreading cloud of exquisite odour could tell. Still not enough danger around ? Apparently so because now he could also hear the unmistakable thunder of cannons fired along with some of the damage that caused to the dock's surroundings. Being all in the hands of some unknown sailors' accuracy in terms of aim was not a good feeling, so the Tork tried to make an even faster run for it.

Left shoulder, that was it! The most comfortable, or rather least hindering, position for a dead body to be carried. Good thing that Neh'miah obviously had been a rather lightly built man so he didn't slow things down that much, even though the dead thief's dangling legs and feet kept hitting Skarsat in his back as he rushed towards the gangway.

No! No! This could not be! Oh how cruel fate could be! First presenting the very possibility of one's most hated enemy stumbling over nothing less than the very piece of clothing she herself had chosen to wear no matter how utterly inappropriate it foreseeably had been, then taking said possibility away again like the carrot in front of the greedy horse desperate for food. Just how nice it would have been to see Solange drenched in oily, murky water crying out for anybody to pull her out of it -- everyone except for the sheriff's men, of course!

Now was that him accidentally hitting some kind of resonance frequency while running up the gangplank or did that wooden thing bend up and down that much under his steps even without ? Would have been another good way to send someone flying into the water if only he had been a lot faster, but now all that was left for him was the significant feeling of discomfort as the swaying motion made the contents of Skarsat's stomach hitting the top end of their container again and again, too.

Only once on board the ship and thus out of the most of trouble he noticed that there was something on Neh'miah's belt which was close to Skarsat's neck. A pouch of coins, and even a lot of those. Skarsat wrapped his hand around the small leather thing and pressed his fingers against it firmly. Noone would take that away, not until its contents had been split up evenly among the remaining members of their little... expedition.

Maréngo's feet pounded against the cobble stones, his chest heaving as he ran for everything he was worth. He stole a glance behind him and couldn't help his smirk at the sight of lawmen stumbling over themselves. The distraction had worked better than he could've hoped for, much to the distress of his simian companion. Pyka's fearful shrieking followed the party down the docks as he clung tight to his new owner for dear life. Maréngo patted the animal's poor little head in a half-hearted attempted to sooth him. Things were a bit chaotic but everything was going to be ok. Everything was going to be just fine once he got to the ship.

His thoughts were interrupted the very next moment by a thunderous boom coming from said ship.
"Fuckin' shit!"
Maréngo instinctively covered the back of his neck to protect it from shrapnel as heard a building behind him take the full brunt of a cannonball. Bystanders began to scream and run for cover but he paid them no mind. He was more than. a little grateful for the extra help in tripping up his pursuers and at this point, the ship was visibly drifting away from the dock. He was going to have to jump for it.

Putting on an extra bit of speed he didn't know he had, the pirate ran with his lungs on fire and his breath coming in ragged gasps. He made a running leap for the ship and managed to hook his arm in the railing before he fell to the water below.
"A little help, me boys?" he wheezed.
A pair of sailors quickly brought the man on deck where he took a moment to catch his breath before a grin spread across his face. He leaned back over the rail and gave a hearty seaman's laugh, pointing mockingly at the fuming sheriff.
"The sea couldn't have me and ya thought I'd keel over for the likes of you!?" he shouted. "Back behind yer mother's skirt, land-hugger and tell 'em Maréngo sent ya!"

Y'Vanna stood frozen in silence, her jaw gaping in awe from the sudden blast of the cannon. The chaos that ensued and the carnage had solidified her legs completely. She quickly shook it off as the captain began to shout once more and she dug her heels in deep and clutched at her belts as she gave it her all in one final push to catch The Pinned Seal before it pulled away from the harbor. It wasn't much of a distance, but the sails had already caught wind and the ship was slowly beginning to pull away from the dock. She was almost there when the gangplank began to slide and drag along the edge of the ship. She decided to risk it, which proved to be a very bad choice as it began to lean to the side as the ship continued to move, and it became unstable beneath her boots.
She slipped and almost found herself in the wash with the crabs and barnacles, but she barely managed to catch the side of the ship, her belts and scabbards flailing about like a rack of kitchen utensils as she dangled from the side. Jarvis seen that she was struggling in her approach and quickly ran over to help her on deck. His brother James was close behind him. Jarvis and James, or Jameson, did everything together. They were twins but not identical. They did however finish each other's thoughts and sentences often, perhaps a bit too often, and were sometimes scolded for doing so. Both of them were fairly young, wiry and lanky men, and both were extremely skilled in dueling with both pistols and blades. The two often fought in unison, intertwined with each other in a fantastical dance of death.
They quickly pulled her up and over the railing, her legs flopping wildly about as she made her way over to the deck planks. Grace was obviously not her best quality... She lay with her face against the planks for a moment, in sheer gratitude for their hardness beneath her. Gratitude that she was still alive, and that she wasn't in line for the gallows, at least not yet.

"Fecking hell." she said, as she hoisted herself up. "What a fecking show that turned out to be..."

Ba'ku noticed the casualty in Skarsat's arms. They were both very large men, and Ba'ku forwarded a certain respect towards the Tork for it as well. Men of such stature were given great respect in his culture, so he naturally offered it in kind. He approached Skarsat and nodded to him respectfully, and then knelt and stretched his large arms out to take the burden from him.

"I will oversee this man's care for you personally. We will clean him up and bathe him and prepare his body for a proper burial at sea." he said with a great deal of reverence. Skarsat gave Neh'miah over to him and he stood and nodded once more. He then looked to a few of the crew men to come over and help. "Take him down and prepare his body, wash him in oils and sage. find him a proper outfit and ready him for the ceremony." he said, and the men all did as he asked and took Neh'miah below.
Ba'ku then turned to the party and spoke to them all.

"Welcome aboard The Pinned Seal. I am Ba'ku, first mate to the captain. If you will all follow me, I will show you to your quarters below."

His voice was very deep but also very gentle. Despite being rather large he was extremely hospitable and very well mannered. It seemed a very odd pairing to be sure. He then turned and made his way to the cargo opening mid ship and open the grated hatch revealing a steep staircase below. "Mind you all watch your heads and footing, the staircase is quite steep, more like a ladder really." and with that he made his descent into the dark crew hold below.

He guided the party through the small crew hold towards the back to a set of two rooms, neither of which were very large at all. It had several of the hammocks hanging inside that were also lining the walls of the crew hold. It was going to be a tight squeeze for sure but at least they were safe, and it was dry and void of any signs of mold. In fact, for such a cramped ship it was rather clean, and although it was rather stifling, it was not all that unpleasant. There was a certain smell aboard the ship, it was an oil they all used that was similar to a desert musk, made with a sage that grows out in the Yhemerian desert. It is a very fragrant and goes a long way to masking bodily odors in small spaces. The wood inside was all dry and the floors were also very clean and showed signs of regular mopping and maintenance.
The ship itself was as unique as its crew was diverse. A specifically designed galleon, a splice of a mercantile design mixed with a war galleon. It was very slender, and only about two thirds the size of a regular galleon, with nearly twice the speed and half the drag of regular galleons, this ship could maneuver in waters that other galleons would find treacherous. It was sure to be a very unique ship indeed, and one could be sure that Vargas had definitely had a hand in either its manifestation or its acquisition. One could be certain of that.

"These two rooms will be your quarters aboard the ship, you are free to do as you please and are not required to work while you are aboard the vessel. You are our cargo and our ward until we reach the island. Should you need anything simply ask. There is plenty of spiced rum upstairs, and there is a crate in the corner there for you should you require it. Also, in the small brown bottles you will find some of the desert musk we use to keep ourselves from being unpleasant... it's use is encouraged. Lunch will be in 3 hours, at the time of one. You may eat here or with the crew, or whichever suits you best. There will be a ceremony for your friend just before dinner around dusk." he said. He then turned to Skarsat who's head and a shoulder could barely make the doorway. "I think you may wish to bunk with us in the crew quarters, I fear this room may not be suitable for your size. I will leave you all to rest now and I'll see to the care of your friend, as promised." and then he took his leave, nodding to Skarsat on the way out.

Y'Vanna cared little for how cramped the room was, it hardly mattered as she was glad just to be alive, and every second they were at sea the further away they got from the nooses that surely waited for their return. She made her way over to the hammock on the corner and set her belts on the ground beside it, and then went straight for one of the bottles of spiced rum.

"Well, I don't know about you lot, but I could certainly use a feckin' drink." she said, biting the cork from the bottle. She spat it to the floor and took a long, healthy swig. She took a moment and paused, in either prayer or gratitude for their freedom, or perhaps a bit of both. The spiced rum tickled her tongue and throat and instantly brought her belly a growing warmth. She extended her arm and the bottle to the rest of them.

"Anyone else fancy a drink?"

Y'Vanna's Failure

Y'Vanna's Saving Grace

Status: -1 (Drunk.. again.)

---

Skarsat found himself more than just slightly baffled to see someone who at least came somewhat close to his own stature, but at the same time he was not unhappy about it. Now any kind of big guy jokes would have to be evenly distributed among at least two persons, hitting each of them with only half of their previous strength... The thought did not experience anything like longevity in his mind though for he still was in the process of handing over a dead body he would have preferred not to exist. One could not rant at a dead person for the obvious mistakes one thought they had done, but one could dishonour them by just not caring. The latter was what Skarsat felt the others were on the verge of doing right now and he didn't want to take part in that.

Yet there still was a pressing issue, pressing because the Tork lacked the trust necessary to think about it more relaxedly. It was the pouch of coin whose weight now felt uncomfortably heavy for it was only an indication of how much money would have to be distributed fairly among everyone. He needed to preserve it until the moment was right. Maybe at an upcoming dinner ? That was the only moment Skarsat expected everyone to be at the same place.

The vessel he found himself on did not hold back its potential for surprise. It was clean. Well, not perfectly clean but certainly a lot more tidy and well maintained than Skarsat would have expected for a ship whose sole purpose probably was to be employed in the misdeeds of some criminal mastermind like Vargas. Thinking about the latter... What would Vargas do once learning about the little incident at the docks ? An open shootout with the sheriff's men including some casualties and even the demolishing of a belltower probably was not what he had had in mind for their undocking procedure! The Tork man experienced an uneasy feeling going through his stomach the more he let his mind have a crack at the whole affair.

He wanted this sea journey to be over rather sooner than later. It would be easier to run away on land than it would be on sea and there were only so many cannonballs and other things they could shoot any anyone going behind them. And what if Gerranti was given the authority to do so ? It wasn't like the list of valid accusations against their little party had not grown at a frightening pace over the last few... minutes ?

Skarsat didn't even step into the small cabin presented to them once having learned that he was to sleep elsewhere. It wasn't even so much about the small size for he would have been alright with sleeping on the floor if necessary, but it was a lot about the prospect of sharing such a limited space with people like Solange whom he still held a big grudge against. And, just maybe, also about the fact that Y'Vanna was so blatantly eager to get herself drunk yet again at the earliest moment possible. Hell if only those beverages in this part of the world had tasted properly!

One deck further down one could tell that one was close to the waterline. The ship's hull -- down there it was more visible than anywhere else for there were less additional walls blocking one's view -- did not exhibit any obvious flaws of course, but there was no way of ignoring the fact that any condensing water following the flow of gravity found a dead end in the ship's bilge. The comparative vastness of space still was highly preferable to that cramped place higher up, so Skarsat happily found himself an empty corner to put down the small pile that was his equipment and lay down in the adjacent hammock.

He was not directly below the quarter shown to them but on the other side of the ship, right ? Otherwise he could only hope that the deck planks were proof against some serious influx of puke and wouldn't allow it to come dripping down. Just in case his extrapolation of what he had seen beginning up there would prove to be correct...

---

Maréngo couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of the boat as they made their way aboard. Now that he wasn't running for his life, there was time to appreciate the vessel. He took note of how well maintained and relatively clean everything appeared and knew right from the start the crew took pride in their work. As he was already planning on helping out around the ship, Maréngo was very pleased by what he saw. Though the journey would be short he had a feeling he would enjoy the company of this crew.

Once below deck, he took a seat on the hammock opposite Y'vanna and leaned back with his hands behind his head. A terrified Pyka soon began to relax to a state of general nervousness and finally released his grip on his new owner. content to sit beside him. The pirate immediately perked up at the mention of drink and gratefully took the offered bottle. He lifted it to his lips but paused, remembering Solange's instructions for him to abstain from alcohol while the medicine worked its mojo. The pirate frowned and passed the bottle back with a heavy sigh. He thought it best not to disregard the advice of a trained herbalist (for now at least). Come to think of it, he still hadn't figured out what could've caused his bowels to revolt like that. He decided that it didn't matter anyway and there were far more important things to dwell on.
"What an excitin' start to our little adventure," he chuckled. "Maybe next time we do that we'll try not to fight the law five to one. I'm not sure who among us are gamblers but I can assure you those are shit odds."

---

---

It wasn’t quite relief that Solange felt as she watched Skarsat, Maréngo, and Y’Vanna scramble onboard, the lifeless body of Neh’miah hanging from the Tork’s arms. Solange had experienced her fair share of death while shadowing her mother, but this was different—violent, sudden, unexpected. Did the foolish thief even have a moment to realize the end was nigh as the bolt punctured his skull or had he left the world in the same ignorant bliss that’d gotten him in trouble in the first place? A slow drip of blood fell from the crossbow bolt and splashed onto the freshly swabbed deck. A man that rivaled Skarsat in stature lifted the body from his arms and gave it to the crew to take care of, mentioning a ceremony. It was only at that did Solange finally feel any sense of relief.

She followed Ba’ku below deck with the others, the pilfered bag still tight to her chest. A familiar scent hit her nose as they made their way to their rooms. At first it was hard to recognize with it being separated from more floral perfumes, but Solange eventually recognized the smell of the sage oil or, as the girls in her line of work often called it, the smell of gold. The memory drew a thin smile to her face that wavered ever so slightly as she saw the two closets they had been given as quarters. Her eyebrow arched ever so slightly as she stared at the large hempen nets hanging from the walls and tried to figure out where their beds were.

As Ba’ku explained everything and parted, a dumbfounded Solange sat down on their generously provided crate. That cheap bastard Vargas was such a bit biter that he couldn’t even get her a private cabin with a real bed? As Skarsat struck out to find his own space, Solange watched as Y’vanna cracked open a bottle of rum despite it not even being noon. To Solange’s surprise, Maréngo stopped himself from taking a swig of the drink.

As Y’vanna turned the bottle to her, Solange stared at it with some strong consideration. Everything had fallen apart so fast. It was funny. The thought of never going back to Gullian always had been part of her personal plan, yet now that the option had been removed from the table it suddenly was the only one Solange wanted to pick. The city had proved her with so many opportunities, yet now she only had this one chance. Her knuckles lightly rapped on the wood of the crate, knowing that like their fight with the law the chance of her future being as bright as she’d hoped for it also had shit odds—and having a drunk around only diminished her chances.

“Thank you, love,” said Solange, standing to take the bottle from Y’Vanna. She swirled the contents, lifted the bottle to her lips, paused, and chuckled softly before lowering the drink with a shake of her head.“Sorry, darling, this just reminds me of a story my sister once told me. It’s about Fontaine’s longest working whore. Her name was Sarey, but behind her back the girls called her Soresy Sarey—you can imagine why, love. Although she was well-experienced, she no longer could entertain the guests behind closed doors, so Fontaine had her work the floor.”

“Soresy would entice men into buying themselves and her drinks, which she put away better than any sailor. The story goes that the bar would run dry most nights Soresy Sarey worked, netting Fontaine quite a pretty profit. Yet Soresy stopped limiting her drinking to when she was on the clock, imbibing whenever she could and buying herself bottles from the bar on a daily basis. She couldn’t leave her bed without a drink in the morning, and soon she was so taken by the booze that she couldn’t leave her bed if she tried. She became a fiscal problem for Fontaine. Soresy couldn’t pay for her room, she couldn’t pay for her tab, and she couldn’t bring in customers. She was Fontaine’s longest working girl, but she was a detriment.”

Solange ran her hand across the bottle of rum as she recounted the tale, her eyes down as she continued on, a playful smile on her face.

“Now Fontaine wanted Soresy gone but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything to someone she considered to be her friend. Fortunately for her, she’d just hired a new enforcer from a spice island who’d survived an attack from some privateers. Her name was Prudence. A young woman then, probably about your age now,” said Solange, her eyes flicking up to cut Y’Vanna like a razor. “But she was mean. Nasty. Practically a wild animal. Prudence didn’t like seeing her new master so upset, so she took matters into her own hand. Soresy was dragged from her bed by her hair to the alley out back, screaming the whole time and so covered in bedsores that she’d truly earned her nickname.”

“The girls, of course, followed. Once on the stone ground outside, Prudence produced a bottle of alcohol and asked Soresy if she wanted a drink. Soresy at this point couldn’t even really speak, but she nodded. Without a word, Prudence uncorked the bottle and held it high,” said Solange, taking the bottle of spiced rum and holding it out. Then, she turned it, pouring the liquid onto the planks below. “She emptied out the entire bottle on Soresy and then, as Fontaine and the other girls watched, she struck a match. Prudence then turned to Fontaine, and when Fontaine did nothing she dropped it.” Solange righted the bottle, empty all but for one single sip. “They say Soresy had drank so much alcohol the night before that she burned for hours. The scorch marks are still in the alley behind the Red Sail.”

“I’ve seen them myself,” said Solange, tossing the nearly empty bottle back to Y’Vanna. “Anyway, enjoy your drink, love. If either of you need me, I’ll be above deck. It smells like someone is trying to cover up a drunken orgy down here, and I for one don’t want to risk getting any more stains on my dress.”