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Pirates of the Darkening Skies

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Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
8th of Foundation, YD 285
Kira's Foundry, Kontina


Kontina is never cold, the accumulated heat of bodies and cookfires and the exahaust complex always keeping it just shy of uncomfortable, but the red mist of the Shaydensea is thick and heavy. It pools around ankles and drifts off walkways, gathering in the lowest points of the city - nevermind some of those are higher than others, to the untrained eye.

Kira's Foundry is halfway between the Kingsport and the arena, a vast complex with smoke and steam leaking from various vents, the sound of machinery almost defeaning from on the street. Inside, heavy and possibly magical sound dampening make it bearable.

Most of you were made to wait in a comfortable antechamber long enough to get bored, though Seska has been kept in Kira's 'audience' chamber at her side. She does make a useful intimidation tool, even silently looming at Kira's back. You feel like you'll never get the smells of gun oil and incense out of your nose.

When you're finally allowed in to see the captain, she's not in her ludicrous golden throne at the head of the room. Instead, you see her in profile, facing the right wall, bent over a workbench strewn with mechanical parts, tool, and less identifiable objects in jars or sealed containers. She doesn't look up from her work, one of her eyes protruding telescopically from the socket to more closely examine the receiver she's assembling. She's dressed in gold satin breeches and blouse, with a heavy apron studded with jewels over it all. A pair of mechanical arms curl from her spine to hold the device while her slim-fingered hands carefully place parts and screw bolts in place.

"Welcome then," she says, cheerful, with only a brief glance. "I hear you need a ship, and I'm open to assisting... for a price. Even called you up a nav, I did, and won't even charge extra."
She winks at Ivara with the silver eye still in her skull, and bends back to her work, carefully choosing a barrel which looks identical to the seven others laid in a row on the bench.
"Whatever happened to ol' Smokebeard? Orohomi is apt to be richly pissed if he's gone and died without paying her back."
 

Teh Frixz

That lady robot
Olimak Seska
Kira’s Foundry

Seska awoke early this morning and knew something was wrong. She could feel it inside her body, under her skin. It wasn’t outright pain, but more like a grating irritation that she couldn’t scratch away. The immediate urge was to stay in bed and hope that it went away in a few hours but she knew that would have been foolish for a multitude of reasons. Reason one, she knew Kira was charging her hourly for the room. Like most places in Kontina, there was plenty of space for rent but unlike anywhere else, this room was at least fairly decent. Reason two was a lot
Less superficial. It was a venting day today.

Rising up from the mattress, Seska hurriedly dressed, donning some simple yet surprisingly summery clothing. A soft grey blouse, long sleeved and holes cut to allow her vents through. Loose fitting trousers cuffed at the ankle and a pair of well worn sandals. Not quite the intimidating ensemble the Pirates of the Shadynsea were known for but one never existed long judging others based on their first appearance in Kontina.

Taking one last look at the rented room to ensure none of her property had been left behind, she stops to examine herself in the mirror before she left. An attempt was made to smile, her sharpened teeth making her look far more menacing than she wished as her lips peeled back to reveal far too much tooth. She snaps back to an expression of neutrality and customary Olimak stoicism with a hint of irritated embarrassment at herself. Lastly, she leans forward and peels an eyelid back to inspect her Expression. Deep within the dull grey of her eye, a green glow had risen that wasn’t there the night previous. Feeling her heart rate spike, Seska could already see the pale amber inside the green. Squeezing the top of the bureau she’d been leaning on hard enough to leave marks in the wood, she closes her eyes and exhales. Steam slips from her throat and through her vents, instantly condensing on the low ceiling.

Opening her eyes and looking up, Seska took a deep breath. She hoped whatever The Leadbelly had in mind today wouldn’t take long.

Like a pair of shears through fabric, Seska marched quickly towards Kira’s foundry. Kira had her living out of the temp rentals a few miles up and a little over a mile over. Nothing like the flop houses near the arena, the temps were home to her indebted craftsman and engineers.

Working to pay off debt, Seska scoffed. Working to be in debt. Kira had them on both ends. They saved up money to purchase bigger and better equipment which Kira just so happened to have available for a price they could just barely afford. Their greed fed her greed and the whole wretched clock kept on ticking. Or so the travel books said, they were rather flowery.

Passing by a cafe that specialized in a stew that Seska reckoned was made out of dust, the young Olimak turned a corner and approached the pair of what she hoped were mostly mechanical guards. The duo let her pass unmolested as she entered Kira’s chamber.

Learning from experience, it was best not to interrupt the Pirate Lord while she worked. Luckily there wasn’t much for Seska to say anyways. One of the first lessons she’d learned was not to announce how bored she could get waiting. But time was money and in her case, time was life.

Probably to Kira’s delight, Seska crosses her arms, brooding in a corner while she waited for some new prospect of Kira’s to waltz on in. Her eyes flick from green to a full amber now, heat very faintly starting to stream from her vents.


@Grey @ithinkcat @Silanon @d.Rex
@acecream
 
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Silanon

Three Thousand Club
Ivara, dryad of Old Oak's ancient Eye

Rarely, there's only one strand of fate leading forward; it comes with the profession, so to speak. Just recognizing some of the potential paths makes them more likely, against usual odds. And in turn, the clear ones lose some of their appeal when consequences are revealed. Add to that the usual curiosity to follow unfamiliar strands, just to find out where they lead - and seers, generally speaking, will discover more unlikely opportunities than the average person.

Not today, though. There's only one choice. Or rather, there's many, yet all but one are pointless. Sure, it splits into different options later, as always when different, ambitious minds are involved; and it might very well end in the worst of outcomes. But the first step is clear, and so there's no need to linger. Ivara climbs down the steps, from the rooftops onto the street. The place: One where she can frequently meet another one of her kind, far from home. A reminder where she is headed, always. No other soul to be seen this time, though, which suited her just fine - sometimes, memories are better than words of a stranger. Memories of a lake, far away, surrounded by trees almost as old as time.

No need to dwell in the past, though, the future awaits; wrapped into the darkgreen fabric of her cloak, the bow on her back like almost always, she leaves. Long legs carry Ivara through less familiar streets, to a place that she rarely visits at all. The host - usually not too fond of her kind, she heard. Her palace itself not much to Ivara's liking, either, too much about fire and machines. It shows in the dryad's smile, barely a hint of it visible; more often than not, she shares it freely.

Being early, and the promise of waiting - few care less about that than seers. Every minute they're sitting there, seemingly idle, they might just find the cruelest way to end their host's life amongst all possible futures, or come up with the best way to turn a good fortune around. Perhaps the reason why most people familiar with her talents don't like to let her wait, though the captain here has little to fear - she's here for an offer that she wouldn't want to decline under most circumstances.

No word about her thoughts, however, while they wait - just the empty stare into the void, from the depths of the hood that shadows her features. Maybe irritating, for some, unfamiliar with her. As they are asked to enter, she quietly moves, rising from her seat and walking over, an erratic rhythm in her steps. Like dancing to a melody only she can hear. In there, some familiar faces, others pretty much unknown. She offers the slightest bow to the captain as her presence is emphasized, and offers the same restricted courtesy to the others in the room. Those of the navigators' guild like to never show too much respect, a sentiment that she shares.

Noticeably, her eyes neither linger on the throne nor on the captain's work; neither are of her concern, or impress her. The one lingering in the back, however; Ivara musters her for a while, uncertain what to make of the person's presence. There is no immediate danger, for now, at least not one she'd notice now; but a broody type, combined with those eyes of hers - it does not take the Amber Eye to recognize a potentially deadly threat. Flesh and machine, from what she sees - worrying.

The captain's question ends her observation, large, black eyes turn away from Seska. "Good question, indeed. I saw the looming shadows surronding his ship, but not the ultimate fate. Given your survival, things likely went well enough; details, however, might shed a different light on what I saw, myself." Only parts, some of them not making much sense. Plus, details might be entertaining - you never wish to miss out on a good story. Her head turns, a curious gaze finds those who were directly involved; or should have been, as far as she knows. "The navigator, replacing me; probably didn't do a thing, did he?"
 

ithinkcat

Sajuuk-khar
KONA
Kira's Foundry - Kontina

The little blue pirate stood casually before her host, but far enough back to not invade the work space of the mother of mortars. Kona's hair was heavy with anxiety, but she kept a confident smile on. She didn't want to appear weak after all. It had been months since Barnes and her had been on their own, and this was the best opportunity she reasoned she was going to have at leaving the past behind and making a name for herself. It wasn't often unaccomplished pirates with no ship got personal audiences with any of the pirate lords. Now that she was face to face, there was no turning back.

Kona got visibly uncomfortable when Kira inquired about the fate of Kona's father. Kona knew it was just some small talk, but was it? Maybe Kira was trying to throw Kona off her game during the negotiations. Regardless, Kona was still very sensitive about the subject and didn't want to discuss it. She averted her eyes while trying to think of a way to avoid the topic altogether, but Ivara pressed the subject as well. Kona drooped her head, staring down at her feet, for a few lengthy seconds to regain her composure. She always struggled with keeping her emotions to herself, and the last thing she needed was to start a pity party in front of her potential sponsor. She took a deep breath and raised her gaze to Kira's backside. "Are we here to chit-chat and sip tea, or are we here to do business?" Kona replied with false bravado. She continued before anyone could try and foil her deflection. "I'm surprised a woman as important and as busy as you would interest yourself in my troubles." Kona said hoping to stroke Kira's ego. Though, those that knew Kona any at all would know she never talked like that. Kona was the type to speak candidly and as equals reguardless of someone's status. "...but I'm guessing you also know I don't have the coin for a ship. So, you must need something from me. What could that be?" Kona asked.
 

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
8th of Foundation, YD 285
Kira's Foundry, Kontina


Leadbelly chuckles, the sound reminscent of spent shells scattering the ground.
"Oh need does I. Direfully in need of a stripling's aid, to save me listing ship," she says, with mocking theatricality. With loving care she sets a row of tiny opals into depressions in her chosen gun barrel.
"I need for nothin', lass, but I do want something..." she continues, slotting some other mechanisms into place on her weapon. It's almost artful, this near to completion. Pleasing colours and symmetries that almost make you forget what it's for.
"Any of you buggers worship Galathas? Because I might want to do a mild bit of blasphemy."
 

D. Rex

Magic Eight Ball
Blue and white seemed to be the color scheme of the group. Like his Captain-to-be his scalp was donned with white hair. Though it was peppered with black and grey... his grease stained coat was a navy blue, that was well faded from sun and weather. While probably fancy at some point, it wasnt in good enough condition to warrant any such designation now. It did at least fit in with the rest of him. Gruff looking and worn.

His belt was relatively unadorned. Save for a cutlass and an impressively crafted (yet not all that pretty) revolver. Yet both were overshadowed by the lantern hanging carelessly from his hip.

Well... I say lantern. But it looked more like a metal framed box magical fields instead of class. Inside it was a swirling fireball that seemed impatiently content. Yes. The man was brazenly carrying about a djinn in what looked to be a half defunct containment lantern, and even that seemed to have minimal safeties, as judged by the few charred marks on that side of his jacket. Overall, the man seemed quite antithetical to the artful care of Kira.


Barnes didnt much care for this sort of conversation. To be frank, he was already bored. Unfortunately for Kira, idle hands rarely behaved. No sooner had he entered the room that he steered away from Kona to see what gizmos he could inspect or what gadgets this Kira woman was working on.

Needless to say, if it was in his path, Barnes likely laid at least one finger on it. While he wouldnt say he was fascinated... he was certainly curious.

At the moment he held a little something in his hand. Some little mechanism he had picked up off a table, and was simple moving its parts around to see what it did.

"That depends." He said in response to Kira. "Do..." *snap*... a piece of the thing he was playing with broke off. There was a moments silence as he placed it back onto anywhere before Kira might notice.

*Ahem* "Do you want us to?" He said wiping his hands on his coat. "And what kind of blasphemy? I would not think you would be granting such a request just because you want someone to set fire to a temple or drop a cargo hold of livestock onto sacred festivities from way up. Anybody could do those. Mildly, of course."
 

ithinkcat

Sajuuk-khar
KONA
Kira's Foundry - Kontina

Kona turned to look at Barnes after hearing the snap. She had no idea what the item he was holding had been beforehand but she knew intuitively it had been broken. Her eyes widened and her hair shifted to a menacing grey as she commanded Barnes to put it back and behave with nothing but a certain kind of look, like an embarrassed young girl scolding her clueless dad. Out of her peripheral vision, Kona could see that her hair had changed colors and recoiled a small bit. The middle of her biggest break wasn't the time to lose control of her emotions. She closed her eyes for two seconds and took in a deep breath, letting it out as slowly and quietly as she could, and let her hair and emotions settle some.

Once Barnes managed to make his remarks, Kona thought he made a good point. One she wished he had kept silent, but valid regardless. "Not that arson or crashing parties is beneath us, madam." Kona added. If all she needed to do was burn a fancy building down or drop exploding cows on a festival in order to win her sky-legs back then she wasn't going to let pride or morals stop her. "You can't please every god and goddess, and I'm sure every pirate has angered a god or two in their life. I'll just think of this as a rite of passage. So what sort of blasphemy would we be committing?"
 

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
8th of Foundation, YD 285
Kira's Foundry, Kontina


Kira raises the rifle and peers down the barrel as if aiming at the opposite wall.
"Theft," she says. "I've heard of an interesting little treasure in an old temple here in the 'sea. But before you go for it, I want to know you can handle yourself at all as captain," she continues.
She sets the rifle down and draws a curved knife from her apron - an ugly, simple thing of roughly-worked iron, it looks like. She cuts her palm and spills blood on the weapon.
"I've got a nice little ship for you to practice on - last captain didn't pay his tribute. A wind-skimmer, brand new, freshly stolen and refitted from some Spire navy or other. Take her out and bring back a prize. Pay our dues. Prove to me y'can work."
The gun on the table writhes and seethes like living flesh, metal contorting and flexing, hissing and steaming.
She turns to look at all of you, her extended eye clicking back into the socket, thumbs hooked into her belt.
"You'll work for me, savvy? Pay tribute like all my other captains. We have a deal?"
Behind her, the gun growls like a mechanical hound and lies still. The gems she embedded in it are eyes, now, looking frantically around the room.
 

Teh Frixz

That lady robot
8th of Foundation, YD 285
Kira's Foundry, Kontina

Olimak Seska​

Unfolding her arms and inhaling as she stepped forward, Seska aligned herself with the man in blue. Sizing him up from her position a few feet away, she takes a bit of a staggered stance. The floors in here didn’t off a ton of traction and if she were to charge, she didn’t want to slip.

“Next thing you snap will be your arms, don’t touch.” She barked, exhaling as she spoke. Steam hangs in the air from her words. Her expression evolving into something more akin to anxious rather than irritated. Seska had neglected to mention her presence and the worry about Leadbelly’s rising cost of labor had forced her to say something. She didn’t want to be left behind and end up in greater debt.

Satisfied he wasn’t doing anything else to violate Kira’s property rights, Seska spoke up.

“Am I going with them? And when are you going to vent me again?” she glances at Kira, hoping her little show got a somewhat positive response.
 

D. Rex

Magic Eight Ball
With a dismissive shrug he held up his hands defensively. "Easy there, tiger lilly. I a can't rightly steal anything for your boss too if I have to pilot with my feet. I mean... I can, but probably not as well." A wayward though passed through his mind, on if he stuck a bunch of gems on that girl and bleed all over her if she too would sprout eyes everywhere. At the very least he was sure it would make her growl. Probably some writhing and seething and hissing too.


Barnes stepped past Kira's mechanized goon to stand with Kona as the offer was finally made. While this would have been a good learning experience for her about certain... sly deals. He figured it best to speak up so she didnt end up with the raw end of the stick here.

"So you are interested in a long term relationship. We can work with that, and do more than earn our share."

"But... talking about shares... What percent of tribute are we talking about here? You see, with that wind skimmer, we could easily do your deed, steal ourselves a ship, pay you tribute and return it. Effectively ending our relationship there. After all, we are essentially just renting it in that sense."

He scratched the scruff in his cheek and looked off into space. "What exactly are you offering in return to entice us to stick around for the long term? What is it all we would be getting in return for the tribute paid? And what percent are you demanding?"

"You have been in the game a while. I have no doubt you treat your fleet well enough. But you know as well as I do that there are too many big shots out there that over demand and under pay. Now I am all too familiar with how vital a fleet Admiral can be. Their administration is vital and can be very handy. Your tight operation attests to such. But I lament that a few too many bad eggs has ruined the game for everyone involved. Hence why it is in my experience that we hash out things before hand to ensure that the only blood between us is good blood."
 

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
8th of Foundation, YD 285
Kira's Foundry, Kontina


"Aye, little cousin," Kira says to Seska. "I'll need you to keep an eye on this investment. You can head to the scrapyard and vent all over that junker from out east when we're done here."
"As for shares and ships... Barnes, ain't it? I get ten percent, same as anyone else. I give half of that to Mandalthraxus. Your pay is between you and y'captain, same as always."
She quirks a brassy eyebrow at Kona. "You need someone to handle y'contracts? I know some decent lawyers and other perverts."

She settles into her chair at the head of the room.
"You want to give me the ship back 'cause you've got a new one, fine by me. You'll just be paying your tribute ol' Four Arms himself."
 

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