[center] [h1][color=FFD700]A couple of days ago[/color][/h1] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240416/0b800ddfc01ca2849a7c0ba18c3608ff.png[/img] [b][color=FFD700]Time:[/color][/b] Night [b][color=FFD700]Location:[/color][/b] Somewhere around the Varsonian Strait [b][color=FFD700]Interactions:[/color][/b] [b][color=FFD700]Mentions:[/color][/b] [b][color=FFD700]Attire:[/color][/b] [hider]Plain roughspun shirt (white) and trousers (brown) Patched knee-length coat Shoulder- and waist-belts Old leather boots [/hider][/center] For a man who was held at the points of several muskets, bayonets, and cutlasses, the Caesonian captain was remarkably calm. He stood with his back ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back, and his head tilted just enough to allow his frigid, blue eyes an imperious glare down his aquiline nose. Dressed in an immaculate uniform – with its yellow trimmings bright against the night and spotless fabric shimmering in the lamplight – his presence contrasted starkly with chaos unfolding around him. Cynwaer met the captain’s contemptuous gaze with a mocking smile. The two men said nothing, with only the clamour of looting punctuating the extended silence. With a wave of his hand, Cynwaer dismissed the men guarding the captain. They hesitated for a brief moment, glancing at each other with uncertainty upon their grimey and sooty faces before nodding their acknowledgements and moving off to join their fellows in plundering the captured merchantman. [color=DC143C]“So,”[/color] Cynwaer began and hooked his fingers into his sword-and-pistol belt. [color=DC143C]“Are yer gae’n– goin’ tae finally start talkin’, or do I ‘ave tae ‘elp yer find yer tongue?”[/color] The Caesonian captain's eyes narrowed. Then, he exhaled sharply through his nose. “I am Captain Oscar Soderman, Captain of the [i]Summer Evergreen[/i].” Exasperation and impatience laced his words, and he did nothing to hide the scorn in his voice. He looked Cynwaer over, examining him as if he were nothing more than some strange specimen to be studied. “Surely, you are tired of hearing the same thing over and over again as I am of saying it…[i]Captain[/i].” The Caesonian spat that final word out like it was some disgusting thing, clearly meaning for it to be taken as an insult. But Cynwaer instead chuckled. As much disdain as he had for anyone serving under any and all Caesonian flags, he had to give credit where it was due. Only a Caesonian officer could willingly strike his colours and surrender after the briefest of skirmishes, and still sound like an arrogant lordling. It was, if nothing else, highly amusing. And Oscar – insufferable as he was – did have a point. Although Cynwaer was the captain of his own ship, he certainly didn’t look like one. At least, not one similar to his Caesonian counterpart. Where Oscar was refined, with clean features and holding himself with the airs of a gentleman, Cynwaer was rough, and not just around the edges. From his drab and roughspun clothes – over-patched and stained – to the shadow clinging to his chin and jaw, and to his unkempt mane of rusty hair, everything about Cynwaer spoke of a man who cared little about the elegance of higher society. And judging by the smirk on his face, and by the confidence in his mossy eyes, that was a source of pride for him. [color=DC143C]“Aye, I am,”[/color] Cynwaer replied. [color=DC143C]“And I’m nae interested in any o’ that nonsense. ‘Tis yer cargo that I’m after knowin’ more about.”[/color] Oscar stiffened – if that were even possible – and his thin lips cracked into a frown. “You know as well as I do that I cannot tell you that,” he said. “The Rule of the Sea is explicitly clear on such matters. The captain of any boarded merchantman is required to divulge only three things. His name, his ship’s name, and their destination. I have already told you all three, and I am under no obligation to tell you anything more. I trust that your…[i]crew[/i] will undoubtedly discover all that you wish to know whilst ransacking my ship.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “And I do hope, captain, that you are aware of your obligations to myself and my crew, seeing as how you accepted our surrender under the white flag.” Cynwaer shrugged. [color=DC143C]“Cannae say I dae, ta’ be honest.”[/color] “You are to treat myself and my crew fairly, [i]captain[/i],” Oscar said pointedly. [color=DC143C]“Aye, aye.”[/color] Cynwaer waved his hand dismissively in front of him. [color=DC143C]“I’m nae sure if you’ve noticed, cap’n, but we’re nae privateers. We’re feckin’ pirates. Yer rules mean piss-all ta’ us.”[/color] For the first time since boarding the merchantman, Cynwaer’s smile disappeared. [color=DC143C]“Aye, I’ll treat the lot o’ yer fairly, yersel’ and yer lads, but it’ll be what we consider ta’ be fair. Not what feckin’ moronic rules yer crown decided ta’ be fair.”[/color] The threat in his words were clear, but Oscar didn’t seem too perturbed by it. Perhaps he believed that Cynwaer was merely trying to sound tough. Perhaps he simply didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. Either way, Cynwaer decided to approach this in another way. He tilted his chin towards Oscar. [color=DC143C]“Soderman’s a strange name fae a Caesonian. Yer nae Varian, are yer? Or ‘ave yer got some Varian in yer?”[/color] Oscar scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Of course not,” he replied, sounding almost offended and looking like he had just been slapped. “Montauppe has been my home all my life, and so it is our King Edin’s authority which you go against, should you decide to be…Unreasonable.” He fixed Cynwaer with a glare, and the corners of his lips twitched in a smug smile. “I am sure you know what the consequences of doing such a silly thing would be, [i]captain[/i].” Cynwaer ignored everything Oscar said about the King. [color=DC143C]“Montauppe, aye. I’ve ‘eard good things about the place,”[/color] he remarked with a series of nods. Then, very casually – as if it were the most natural thing in the world – he drew a pistol from its holster and pointed it squarely as Oscar’s chest. The Caesonian captain’s eyes widened. Panic broke his composure, and his face visibly paled. “Wha-what–” he stammered, holding up both hands in front of him. [color=DC143C]“Oh, ‘tis simple, cap’n,”[/color] Cynwaer said with a shrug. [color=DC143C]“If yer nae wantin’ ta’ return ta’ Montauppe in a feckin’ box or barrel or whatever the feck we’ve got fae a coffin, then I suggest yer gee’s– give us aw’ that I want ta’ know.”[/color] He thumbed the pistol’s hammer. It locked into place with an ominous click. “You–” Oscar began, his voice starting to crack and waver. “You would really shoot a man over grain? Are you mad?” Cynwaer smiled darkly. [color=DC143C]“See? That was’nae so hard, aye?”[/color] He kept the pistol aimed at Oscar, and took in the look of realisation creeping over the Caesonian captain’s face. [color=DC143C]“Yer’ve almost a thousand tons burden o’ grain in yer hold, aye? An’ aw’ bound fae yer capital o’ Sorian, no less. ‘Tis a lot o’ grain ta’ take frae the common folk. Aw’ frae just one village, aye?”[/color] Oscar began to stammer something, but Cynwaer cut him off before he could even get one word out. [color=DC143C]“Surprised? Word o’ advice frae cap’n ta’ cap’n, make sure yer lads can ‘old their drink, an’ if they cannae, make sure they’re nae the sort ta’ get loose lips after just one drink. ‘Twas feckin’ embarrassin’ for aw’ involved, mysel’ included.”[/color] “If you knew,” Oscar swallowed hard and hissed. “Then why do all this?” [color=DC143C]“Just wanted ta’ ‘ear it frae yer, ta’ be honest,”[/color] Cynwaer replied with a nonchalant shrug. He briefly turned his eyes towards the deck. [color=DC143C]“So aw’ o’ this ‘neath our feet, ‘tis just grain ta’ yer, is it? Ne’er crossed yer wee mind that ‘tis what some folk need ta’ live, aye?”[/color] “We didn’t take everything,” Oscar protested. “Just what is rightfully the crown’s by tax. Those people have enough to eat. You are making a mistake, captain.” Cynwaer didn’t reply immediately, and instead raised his brows. [color=DC143C]“Are yer a farmin’ man, cap’n?”[/color] He asked, and when Oscar didn’t respond, chuckled. [color=DC143C]“I did’nae think so. Yer types ne’er are. But I s’pose I’m nae the person ta’ talk. I used ta’ fish fae a livin’, yer see, but I knew some farmin’ types. Want tae know somethin’ interestin’ I learned frae ‘em? See, aw’ the grain they ‘arvest duin’ ta’ season’s nae just fae eatin’. Some o’ it’s stored awa’, some turned ta’ feed fae livestock, an’ that livestock’s made ta’ salted meat ta’ last ‘em the winter.”[/color] He paused, and upon seeing no understanding on Oscar’s face, continued. [color=DC143C]“So if yer leave ‘em wi’ just enough fae them ta’ eat, then they’ve nothin’ ta’ feed the animals an’ nothin’ ta’ store. They’ve nothin’ ta’ feed the animals and nothin’ ta’ store, they’ve nae salt meat or stores to last ‘em o’er winter. An’ when they’ve nothin’ ta’ last ‘em o’er winter, then people start dyin’.”[/color] He jabbed the pistol towards Oscar. [color=DC143C]“An’ everythin’, cap’n, starts wi’ yer takin’ their grain. Ta’ me, it sounds an awful lot like yer’ committin’ murder, aye.”[/color] “That– That’s ridiculous!” Oscar protested loudly. “You can’t know–” [color=DC143C]“Oh, but I dae, cap’n,”[/color] Cynwaer interrupted. [color=DC143C]“‘Tis a story I’ve ‘eard and seen many times, aye.”[/color] He stopped smiling, and gave Oscar a hard look, one discomforted the Caesonian captain greatly. [color=DC143C]“Normally, I’d shoot yer and be done wi’ it, but I’ve places ta’ be. More o’ yer bastard king’s ships ta’ rob, yer see. An’ I s’pose ‘tis yer lucky day, ‘cause I’m feelin’ particularly generous. I’ll let yer live, but only if yer turn this ship around and bring it back ta’ where yer came frae. Gee’s o’er the grain ta’ the village, gee’s ‘em an apology, an’ I’ll consider everythin’ o’er. That’s more than fair if yer ask me.”[/color] Oscar baulked at the suggestion. “Th-That’s crazy! I will be branded a criminal–” [color=DC143C]“Aye,”[/color] Cynwaer agreed. [color=DC143C]“Yer can join our wee club.”[/color] “–the King will place a bounty on my head–” Oscar’s words tumbled and fell from his mouth, each melding into the next, in a semi-coherent ramble. He barely noticed Cynwaer’s interruptions. [color=DC143C]“Again, we’ve a club for yer ta’ join.”[/color] “–And I have a family–” [color=DC143C]“So did I, pal. Yer’ll be fine.”[/color] “–I need the money–” [color=DC143C]“The people need ta’ eat.”[/color] “–What will I do–” [color=DC143C]“Yer free ta’ join us. Plenty o’ yer kind sailin’ wi’ me.”[/color] “–No, I cannot do this. Please, you must understand–” Cynwaer sighed heavily and shook his head. [color=DC143C]“Took yer own sweet time ta’ say that, did yer?”[/color] He grumbled with a huff. [color=DC143C]“Yer know what, feck it. I’ve nae the time ta’ reason wi’ the likes o’ yer. Yer bastard king’s grain ships’ nae gae’n ta’ wait.”[/color] He lowered the gun, and pulled the trigger. The frizzen flashed, flames shot from the muzzle, and the crack was deafening amidst the relative silence of the night. A bullet crashed through Oscar’s knee, snapping bones and cutting flesh as it sliced cleanly through the joint. The man immediately crashed to the deck, howling in pain and clutching his thigh. “Y-You bastard!” He managed to shout through clenched teeth. “When my family finds you–” [color=DC143C]“Oh, nae bother, pal. I’ll send ‘em aw’ yer way, don’t yer worry,”[/color] Cynwaer interjected and casually stepped over to Oscar. Kneeling beside his head, Cynwaer said, [color=DC143C]“Yer cannae blame everythin’ on me, aye? I gave yer a chance ta’ walk awa’ untouched, and yer did’nae take it.” He patted Oscar on the shoulder. “Learn ta’ take some responsibility fae yer decisions, aye?”[/color] “Gods damn you,” Oscar hissed. His eyes were wide with both pain and rage. “Just kill me, pirate. You’ll be joining me soon enough. When the King’s forces find you, you will pay with your life, but only after days of suffering and pain. You will find no respite and no relief.” Cynwaer shrugged. [color=DC143C]“Tell yer what, pal. I’m plenty damned as ‘tis, aye,”[/color] he said. He leaned over Oscar with a wicked grin pulling his lips wide across his face before continuing. [color=DC143C]“Nae need ta’ worry. I’ll be sendin’ yer on yer way in due time, but what’s it yer people say about me? Was it that I torture folks like yer until death seems merciful? Nae sure I like the sound o’ that, ta’ be very honest, but reputation’s reputation, aye? An’ I hate disappointin’ folk like yer, so I s’pose I’ve ta’ live up ta’ yer expectations. Pretty sure some o’ my lads would want ta’ ‘ave a go, too.”[/color] Oscar’s face paled even more. His lips trembled, as if he were trying to say something, but no words left his mouth. [color=DC143C]“Take it as time ta’ reflect,”[/color] Cynwaer said and stood up. [color=DC143C]“I gave yer a chance ta’ show some compassion fae us lowborn folk, and yer chose ta’ be selfish. Kept thinkin’ about yerself, din’t yer? S’pose yer just bein’ what yer are. Dis’nae matter. You showed nae compassion. Yer kind ne’er showed compassion fae us little folk, and so now we will’nae show you any.”[/color] He nudged Oscar’s ruined knee with his boot, and that was all it took to get the man to start screaming once more. His pleas for mercy gradually turned incoherent, and his screams into nothing more than animalistic, blood-curdling shrieks. [color=DC143C]“An’ we’re makin’ nae excuses fae our terror,”[/color] Cynwaer said and turned away. There was plenty of work to be done. By the time the night was over, Sorian would have a new taste of the Seahawk’s vengeance.