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Captain Flint The past week has no doubt been quite eventful for Finna. After a new world Unified, she was chosen to investigate on behalf of the Union. With a warpgate in the sea several miles away from land, the Lunar was a perfect choice for some discreet recon, especially since the fort perched above the town of Nassau might not mix well with a formal delegation from the Union--especially given the apparent time period. The world is an Earth, this one in the golden age of piracy (around 1715). Research and entries on other worlds before (had Finna bothered to do any) would suggest that at this point in Earth's history, New Providence Island and the town of Nassau especially were notorious pirate strongholds.

     It should therefore have come to no surprise that a resourceful type such as her would find work so easily. Within her first two days, the Lunar had managed to get hired on as a vanguard in Captain Flint's crew, someone tasked with boarding other ships to deal with their crews. The next two days were mostly waiting, and when the Walrus finally departed, Finna had much to do in the way of proving herself to the rest of the crew. Female pirates in this world were apparently quite the rarity, with only one such pirate in Nassau besides Finna herself. After a few bloody noses and a failed attempt to ambush her, the crew accepted the Lunar as readily as they would anywhere else--at the end of the day, a pirate's chief concern is money, after all.

     The ship, then, is a frigate--a ship of intermediate size with square rigging. It's quite fast for a vessel of its type, and quite well armed for its size at 26 cannons and 4 swivel guns. The crew members of note appear to be Billy Bones, the boatswain, to whom Finna ostensibly answers, and Hal Gates, the quartermaster, who brings concerns of the crew to Flint and acts as their advocate. There's another man, as well, Singleton, and word aboard the ship is that he wants Flint's position. Opinion seems to be shifting towards him, as well, with hushed conversations mentioning a vote to make him captain.

     At roughly midday, Flint exits his cabin to survey the ship. His eyes land upon Finna briefly, and he squints at her. The question is--is that because she's a woman, or because he feels like he saw something?
Finna It hasn't been the easiest thing in the world, getting used to life at sea! Finna's been sailing before, but not for extended periods. Yet here she is, having chosen to stick with this crew - for it is by society's underbelly that its actual face can be seen. Others can gauge the top of society. And Finna? Finna'll gauge the criminal.

    And thus far, she's proven to be a bit of a natural at the job. Although there were a few moments in proving herself that might've been questionable - seeming unfamiliar with the weapons for a bit but quickly ameliorating that. A general unfamiliarity with large ship terms and operations that was largely overcome in under a day. Another matter is... she's not speaking the local tongue at ALL, but this seems to be something the crew don't seem to be noticing. Except, well... the Captain and First Mate are the most likely to pierce through the illusion, eventually.

    Midday sees her out on decks, scanning the horizon with a wild grin and dreamy look in her eyes. Already humming one of the local tunes. Just as the captain's checking the ship... so too is the black-haired young woman checking her own gear. Checking and double-checking.

    Though feeling eyes upon her, she turns and offers a wild grin that juuuuust slightly challenges the eager respect in her green eyes. "'afternoon, Captain!"
Captain Flint Flint nods, offering a greeting without words. He and Gates have a word for a moment, with the Captain casting the occasional suspicious glance towards Finna. The outcome of the conversation is inconclusive, but evidently not of immediate concern. Flint goes to speak to the navigator, as he has on the few other occasions that he's stepped out of his cabin. The two of them exchange opinions, much as they have the past few days, with Flint nodding and taking his leave. He lets his gaze rest on the Lunar, trying to pick out what it is about her that gives him pause, but his rumination is interrupted by an excited cry from the crow's nest.

     "Sails!" The word sets the entire crew abuzz, every man looking up from his work. "Sails to the north!" The eyes alight first on the lookout, and then to Captain Flint. The captain is already at the railing, his looking glass extended.

     Finna's Exalted sight can make out the sails on the horizon, too--it's another square-rigger, that's for certain. "It's Parrish," says Flint calmly. He then signals to DeGroot, the navigator. He then begins calling out orders.

     "Helm's a-lee! Ease up the fore and jib!" The midshipmen, led by Billy, begin making all manner of seemingly minute adjustments to the sails. "Overhaul the weather lifts!" The sails begin to ripple as the ship takes on a new course, with DeGroot at the helm steering the Walrus towards the prize. "Rise tacks and sheets!" Flint continues barking those confusing orders, which his crew somehow interpret easily. The ship swivels into an intercept course, with the wind firmly in the sails. A kind of hush falls over the crew as the ship approaches the prize.
Finna 'Clara' is just opening her mouth to speak when a hint of something on the horizon grabs her attention! Her eyes flick off to the side and narrow slightly. She focuses her gaze hard, telescoping in to an extent a half-second before the rallying cry's even made... not that she's gonna reveal that she can DO THAT.

    Oho!

    She'll have to investigate what 'Parrish' means later. Right now she's just boasting that eager grin and that's enough of a message that she knows what parrish means.

    'Loot and plunder.'

    "Guess you'll have to go back to lookin' after THEY'RE sick of our mugs." She lightly jokes, letting just a bit of a cutthroat attitude filter into her tone as she drops a hand to her blade and breaks into a brisk walk to a battle station...
Captain Flint Gradually, the shape of the prize becomes more clear. It's roughly the same size as the Walrus, flying British colors. Singleton, the brutish fellow with an eye on the captaincy, seems particularly impatient, pacing back and forth. Flint continues to eye the prize, one hand on the rail of the conn, looking like the portrait of a captain as those blue eyes scrutinize. There is no talk of votes or of weakness, or rumors about Flint in this moment. He's gotten the crew this far, and the pay from this haul grows closer every minute.

     When the ship is close enough for the crews to see each other, Captain Flint gives another command. "Raise the black!"

     Gates relays this command, and a pirate stationed aftward quickly begins raising Flint's banner--a skeleton with a sword in one hand and a goblet in the other, both raised in triumph. The flag billows freely in the wind and the crew gives a hearty cheer.

     Aboard the other ship, Finna can spot the captain, a short, stout man in a tricorn hat. He peers through his looking glass at the Walrus and immediately begins giving orders, gesturing to his crew in a panic. Evidently, he intends to flee, as his ship shows no signs of slowing down. "Gun crews at the ready!" calls Flint. Gates repeats the order, and the ports on either side of the ship begin to open. Meanwhile, abovedeck, three of the crew hurry to man the swivel guns stationed atop the railing of the ship, leaving one open--should the Lunar wish to test her ability with 18th century light artillery, the opportunity is there.

     The chase continues for perhaps two minutes before the crack of a cannon sounds through the air. A cannonball splashes harmlessly into the water, a few feet from the hull of the Walrus.

     "Steady!" Calls Flint, waiting. Seconds pass, feeling like hours as another cannon from the other ship fires unsuccessfully.

     "FIRE!"
Finna The cannonball splashing instantly alerts Finna to just how bloody dangerous this has gotten. One direct hit from those - or even a graze - and she'll be in trouble. The locals can't possibly dodge those so she's going to need to cut it CLOSE if she's going to keep her secret hidden.

    Subtly she circulates her Essence, limbering up her limbs and sharpening her senses and reflexes.

    Which means she sees exactly what the others are doing with those guns in great detail. Seeing one is open... she leaps over to it and sets to mimicking the others, just a step behind and a liiiittle more cautious.

    She knwos if it goes BOOM, it can blow up in her face, so...

    FIRE AWAY?!
Captain Flint Just as the ship lines up for a broadside, the cannons beneath Finna begin to erupt. While the other captain's men are panicked, Flint's are calm, perhaps even excited. The pirate manning the gun opposite Finna presses a lit censer to the end of the gun, setting off the powder within and launching a smaller cannonball towards the crew of the other ship. It strikes true, plowing through a midshipman in a startling and gruesome display of gore.

     Meanwhile, the gun crews on the Walrus begin to hit their marks. First, a tear appears in the mainmast of the other ship, and then the others hit. In a sudden hail of debris, the Walrus' guns rip the other ship apart. Shot strikes wood and shears it from the ship like ravenous crows pecking at carrion. Splinters fly through the air, rigging is cut loose, and in the chaos, without able seamen to contain it, the ship almost seems to turn on its crew. Heavy ropes snatch one sailor off of his feet, while another is literally blown overboard, screaming and kicking all the way to the drink below.

     Once Finna dares to take a shot with the swivel gun, she'll find the noise to be tremendous, the smell to be quite unlike modern firearms, and the spectacle to be equally so. The recoil is mostly solved by the gun's mount, but it's still significant enough to rattle the ground just beneath her feet. Her shot crashes into the railing and takes out a rifleman preparing to fire. In a hail of splintered wood and shrapnel, he's sent flying backwards as his musket clatters uselessly to the ground.

     "Oi, Clara's got one!" "Fine shooting, lass!" Some of Flint's crew give her hasty compliments as they hurry back and forth across the ship. Then, Flint gives an order.

     "Come about! Vanguard, fetch the nets and prepare to board!" Vanguard? Wait... that's her! Her and a few others, anyway. Singleton, Billy, and a few others quickly head belowdecks. Looks like that's her cue, too!
Finna 'Clara' answers the other crewmen with a bit of a sheepish but cocky grin. She didn't expect to hit! And her nose wrinkles a bit. This stuff's not to her liking. She'll completely take a sword any day!

    Or some good throwing knives. They don't make so much NOISE either!

    Ow, her ears!

    "bucket o' noise, but it does the job." She pulls away from the thing at the rally call!

    The nets though, this one's new to her. She dashes over to the rest of the Vanguard to follow their lead as before... all while her eyes scan the other ship.

    All she can do is hope that this won't turn into a slaughter. "Those morons! Surrendering about now would be in their best interests..."
Captain Flint Once belowdecks, Finna will see everyone getting ready. Singleton grabs a rather hefty-looking axe, Billy a sword and a dagger, the other pirates much the same. Some of them even take to painting their faces or using props, such as one called Joseph, who wears a fake set of teeth likely plucked from some deep-sea fish. The sound of the Walrus' cannons eventually dies off, as does the sound of panic from the other ship. Flint can still be heard above, barking orders, but it seems as if they've surrendered, and most of the orders seem to be directional commands and instructions for the sails.

     Billy, whose face is now painted with woad leaves, hands Finna a net, not even bothering to check if she knows what to do with it. Apparently, her disguise is just that good! A few minutes pass, and everyone begins hustling back abovedeck, where the Walrus has come about to the other side of the prize.

     As it happens, the crew of the other ship hasn't surrendered--they've retreated to some other part of the ship. Did Flint know it would happen? Did he plan on it? Or has he simply done this for so long that he can take measure of such things in advance? Whatever the case, when the vanguard comes back above deck, Flint is ready, and wearing a disguise of his own. A black turban hides his hair and covers most of his face, the wrap coming around to hide all but his eyes. He conveys his next order with but a look, moving his gaze from the port side of the Walrus to the starboard side of the other ship. Billy, Singleton and the others then move to the side of the ship, casting their nets over the side.

     As they fly, metal grappling hooks woven to the edges of the nets grasp the side of the other ship, creating a surface for Flint and his vanguard to board. So that's what they're for!
Finna Finna blinks once at the net, but the bewilderment only lasts until she spots the grappling hook. She's not THAT clueless! A Lunar must be able to think and adapt fast. And that design's similar to something she used for some things in the Ears of the North!

    Climbing gear. Aha.

    She's gotten way too used to just flying to weird places like that. or running on the water.

    She comes dashing out with the others, casting her net so quickly and leaping along with it... a move that seems reckless, except...

    It's hard to call it reckless when the hook latches hard onto the ship's railing just in time for it to support her weight. Finna climbs up and up like some kind of freakish spider-monkey, showing a level of flexibility that might suggest a daily yoga regimen. A swing left, a swing right, she scales right the heck up the ship with practiced ease!

    "Surrender now if you wanna KEEP any blood in your bodies!" She growls out, scanning for the crew.

    She's probably not actually going to fight as seriously as the threat sounds... not if she can get away with a less lethal approach... but her fellow crew probably wouldn't say the same, would they?
Captain Flint Finna's stunt earns the approval of at least one pirate, and upon making her threat, said pirate howls like a coyote. As they climb, a few members of the vanguard toss smokebombs onto the deck--which proves to be a wise tactic, as the observant Lunar can spot the glint of metal from a slit on the door to the hold. That must be where they're all holed up, and getting them out of there will be tricky, especially with all of them armed and in such close quarters.

     Luckily, the captain came prepared. The pirate--Joseph, as it turns out--howls again as two of Flint's men heft a barrel of black powder over the edge of the ship, setting it down with a thump. Joseph stomps on the deck, doing so rhythmically, and the others all join in as Billy lights the wick on the barrel. The stomping grows to a fever pitch as the flame finally touches the wick, the deck now well-covered in a curtain of concealing smoke.

     Flint tips the barrel gently over, and with help from Billy, pushes it forward, sending the keg rolling down the length of the ship. It comes to a gentle stop just past the field of vision, and the next few moments are completely silent--even the stomping stops. Everyone looks around expectantly, with Flint's eyes locked on the hold. What's in there, to warrant such a determined glare from the man?

     The time for pondering ends as the keg goes off, with startled shouts erupting from the hold. The pirates take this as their cue, shouting and hooting, charging towards the hold. Musket shots ring out, but it's clear that the day belongs to the Walrus crew, even before they get to the hold. The crew of this merchant ship are clearly no match for the hardened pirates, and especially not for a Lunar. Why all of this fight? What's on this ship?
Finna Well, the Lunar did warn 'em. What she wasn't expecting though was EXPLOSIVES. Her whole body flinches and shivers at the thing going off. Acrid stench, hellish noise... she really doesn't like firearms and explosives! So crude, so inelegant. ... Very effective though.

    Once she's into the real front lines though, her combat skills are on display. A blitz of footwork and serpentine evasion. She seems to have dodging the muskets and flintlocks down to a science by reading the fingers on those triggers and swaying at JUST the right moment to only take a few grazes! Time after time she's up in faces, using her shorter stature as an effective fulcrum to grapple and flip people, twisting arms, wrenching weapons out of them, bashing them into walls!

    She does very little in the way of stabbing or shooting, instead incapacitating via nasty blows to the solar plexus and other pressure points in a brutal display of refined street fighting.

    The few times she DOES use her sword it's to parry another, drive men back or, in one case, deftly chop a defender's clothing to ragged shreds and only cutting him a LITTLE.

    And with fighters subdued, weapons confiscated and probably plenty of rope employed, well, that's one crew that won't be troubling them again...

    "Tch... whatever's on the ship can't be too impressive if THIS is all the resistance they can muster," She rumbles, spitting on a nearby wall - the taste in the air isn't to her liking.
Captain Flint "You fight like nothing I've ever seen," says Flint. If it were words alone, that would be ringing praise, especially from a man with Flint's reputation. But his mask can't hide the intrigue in his eyes, nor can it hide the shadow of suspicion there. He could hardly be blamed, of course. A fighter like this woman, showing up from nowhere in particular, at just the right time? Once again, Flint's rumination is disrupted, this time by a roar from Singleton.

     Turning around, Flint manages to get his cutlass in between Singleton's axe and the captain's neck. "ENOUGH!" Flint's tone dares challenge, his eyes glowering with contempt for the bloodthirsty pirate. The captain of the merchant ship cowers beneath the both of them. Flint reaches up and removes the cloth covering his mouth, casting a glance to the other captain. "Wouldn't you agree?" The captain gives a hurried nod, causing Flint to look back to Singleton.

     "Help the men unload the cargo," he commands Singleton. The brutish, bloodthirsty pirate glares at Flint, but complies.

     "The woman's right," he mumbles sullenly, pushing past Finna to get to the cargo.

     "Miss Clara, was it?" Captain Flint takes Finna's measure, blue eyes scrutinizing her, searching her face for motives. He never asked her name in person, which means he must've got it from Gates in their earlier conversation. "When there's time I'd like a word. For now, I'd greatly appreciate you scouring for stowaways while I speak with Captain Parrish."

     So that's what he meant earlier--Parrish isn't a place, or the name of the ship. Rather, it's the name of the captain.
Finna Clara twirls her weapon about and sheathes it, the grin going away as she winces at a few of the places where she nearly lost chunks of skin to these rough firearms!

    The roar gets her staring at the NEAR DECAPITATION from nowhere... and that's a frown-worthy moment to be sure. Her gaze sweeps over Singleton, trying to figure out what emotion's driving him besides battle rage...

    There's only a bit of a twitch and fidget in her stance with him rummaging past. She steps riiight out of the way and turns to face the captain.

    "Clara, yes! Aye-aye, captain! Not one urchin'll sneak by my nose!" Which she might mean literally, not that anyone would believe it by her tone.

    little bit of a silly girl, but one can't be stowing around with pirates without having a sense of humor.

    Mentally she files away... the fact that this isn't the captain's first encounter with this man...
Captain Flint "Good," says Flint with a little smile. "See to it, then."

     His address to Parrish is cordial. "You are alive because I allow it. You will die because I command it. Is that understood?" It's uttered at a conversational volume, with the simplest, most honest tone.

     Parrish nods, swallowing nervously. "Right... er... there are some... effects. In my cabin."

     "Good man." Flint offers Parrish a hand up, helping the cowering captain to his feet. He gives a nod to Finna, heading abovedeck to take a look at the captain's cabin.

     As the pirates begin unloading cargo, Finna will assuredly notice something amiss. There is a thumping coming from below! Billy seems to notice it too, giving her a look. "Do you hear that?" he asks. In fact, he seems more bothered by that noise than by Flint's cold ultimatum! Perhaps it's just the life of a pirate.
Finna WHUMPF!

    Seems Finna doesn't need to use her nose. Ears work just as well. She slooowly turns her head and gives Billy an affirmative, eyes a bit wide. "... How did the captain KNOW?"

    Seriously, HOW did he know? This string of events is a bit too intriguing for Finna!

    "Grr. Gotta find the way down!" A hatch, stairs, something... she's got a bad feeling that wherever this person is, it's going to be unpleasantly rank...
Captain Flint Billy seems perplexed, too, but at Finna. Clearly, he hasn't put together that there's anything of extreme value on the ship. "We haven't gotten too many big hauls of late, but Captain Flint's the biggest earner in Nassau. We tend to get preferential treatment when it comes to leads." So, Flint's highly respected in Nassau, and given his performance today, it's not hard to see why. "So far as I know, this is just a merchant ship. Flint's a man of letters, though--he probably just went to the cabin to look through Parrish's books. The real money's down there," he says, pointing to a hatch on the floor. If the banging is any indication, there's a stowaway down there, too.

     Billy sheathes his cutlass, moving over to the hatch and lifting it with but a faint grunt of effort. "Come on," invites the bo'sun, hopping down.

     The hatch leads to the second level of the cargo hold, where the weightier items are kept. And the smell? It's alright, if you like tobacco. Barrels of rum and tobacco line the hold, but Billy is left scratching his head. Apparently, this haul isn't much to look at. "Fuck," spits the young pirate. "This'll barely cover what we spent to get here!" He sighs, irritated. The thumping continues, seeming to come from the far end of the hold, where a door is held closed by a fallen crate of cargo.
Finna In truth, Finna doesn't like it much! Her nose wrinkles. But it could be much worse. She was expecting the bilge and not a hold. She leaps down the hatch effortlessly, landing on the rim of a barrel with expert balance. From there she leaps off forward and manages a somersault-landing despite the incredibly cramped quarters below decks.

    "Better 'n nothing. But what I wanna know's--" She gives the crate a kick to slide it away from the door, then draws a knife. "I'm coming in! No funny business and nobody gets cut open!" She warns the occupant... before just throwing the door wide open...
Captain Flint The door swings wide opeh to reveal... a handsome young man with wavy black hair, hands held up in a surrender. "Hello," he says simply. Behind him, Finna can make out a dead body. Evidently, Billy can too, because it's the first thing he brings up.

     "What happened to him?" asks the bo'sun, gesturing with a flintlock pistol to the corpse.

     "I killed him," admits the young man. "Had no choice. He burst in here screaming about a Captain Flint and how we were all dead men. When I tried to reason with him he came at me like a wild animal."

     Billy gives Finna a glance, then looks back at the man. "What are you called?"

     "I'm called John Silver," replies the stowaway. "Do your men have need of a cook, perhaps?"
Finna "...Eh." Is all Finna has to say about the unfortunate soul. She'll just have to trust that whatever passes for proper burial rites in this world are observed. She's got little desire to have to deal with ghosts... if they exist around here!

    "Captain Flint's here alright! Nothin' to worry about. He's off grillin'... well, bet you can guess. And -I- can guess he won't say no to a decent cook! Bit in the negative there, right now. Name's Clara." No family name, apparently...
Captain Flint "Agreed," says Billy. If the Walrus' cook were only here to hear how quickly he was condemned! Poor Randall. In any case, Silver seems more than happy to be accepted. Billy escorts him back to the Walrus, leaving Finna to search for other stowaways. A thorough search reveals none, and before long, the Walrus crew is down in the second level of the hold, clearing out what remains. In about an hour, Captain Parrish's ship has been picked clean, the haul stored safely away in the Walrus' hold.

     Flint is the last to leave, looking somewhat upset--yet, much as Billy predicted, leaving with an armful of books. Judging by the way he's fuming, now probably wouldn't be the best time to speak to him. Luckily, Nassau is a few days away, which means there'll be time to let his evidently infamous temper cool down to reasonable levels. In the meantime, Finna (and the rest of the crew) can kick back after a successful haul--even if said haul barely turns a profit.