A guardsman pointed and fired at Markus, who spun as the shot went wide. The bullet punched into the arm of an elderly baroness who gave a hoot in surprise and shivered as she sunk to her feet. The arquebusier was stunned for a moment, though after a mere second he went for his sidesword. It was a second too long. Markus slid through the crowd and ran the man through the gut, causing him to be stricken and wide mouthed. The captain twisted the blade so he would scream in front of the terrified onlookers, and slowly he yanked the backsword out of him as he hit the floor, dead. What arquebusiers were left dropped their guns, Jax collecting them and patting one of the soldiers on the cheek, mockingly.

"Unfortunately ladies and gentleman," Markus said, as if he had just told an ornery man to leave rather than brutally killing a goodly guardsman. He nonchalantly wiped the blood off his blade with a fallen handkerchief. "We cannot escort you back to your lovely homes and collect the payment for our delectable hospitality there, and so we must humbly ask only for your valuables at present."

Sketti ripped a tablecloth off a wide dining table, sending glasses, horderves, and porcelain plates clattering and shattering to the floor. He wrapped the cloth up in the fashion of a makeshift bag, and with a terrible grin he began to stalk around the room, taking all of their valuables. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, whatever wasn't sewn to their skin, though whatever earrings they could remove, Sketti insisted. Those who resisted got a punch in the gut that sent them on the ground, sometimes knocked out cold by the muscles dwarf. Jim collected what he could from those they had to make an example of.

"You're nothing but a thug," an older gentleman said, stepping out of the crowd to challenge Markus.

The swordmage turned, looking at him hard for a few, tense moments. He gave a chuckle and put his arm around the old man's shoulder as if he were a comrade in arms. "My lord...coming from you entitled bastards, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." He glanced at Calliope. "No offense."

"None taken. I pride myself on wearing the title proudly." She said with all of the smug arrogance in the world. Markus grinned, letting his eyes trail down her body for a brief moment as she turned and threatened a young man with cooking his wife with hellfire and serving her to him on one of their pretty plates.

The soldiers arrived first. They came running down the street, half out of uniform and in a panic, frantically loading muskets as they took up positions in the surrounding buildings and along the stone walls that surrounded the house. They had just about managed to sort themselves out into something resembling a decent fighting force when the Governor himself arrived. He too had dressed in some haste, his expensive purple robe two entire buttons out of alignment and powdered wig upside down, exposing the wires. He was a heavy set man, with drooping jowls and fluffy mustaches that gave him the look of an agrivatated porcupine. He took a brass speaking trumpet from his captain of the guard.

"Come out ye knaves, we have you surrounded!" he barked in a voice that quavered too much to hold much authority.

"You cannot get off the island without my leave, surrender now and I may be inclined to take pity on you!"

Sketti and several pirates snickered and several of the hostages made half hearted whimpers.

"He has a mage with him, somewhere," Calliope reported, gazing around with her mage sight for the tell tale signs. She could feel him out there, but either he was well hidden, or he was dressed as one of the soldiers. It was impossible to tell how good he was. Though the very difficulty she was having in locating him argued for skill rather than incompetence.