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Captain Flint Several days have passed since the seizure of the prize captained by a man called Parrish. The Walrus finally, finally comes to a halt, a few miles away from the bay. The ship's crew, by command of Captain Flint, begins furling the sails. Eventually, a team of four midshipmen begin the process of lowering the anchors, and at last, the frigate sails to a halt. The crew seems to know what happens next, as all of them come abovedecks and fall into a sort of organized crowd. Though the ship's crew is abovedecks in its entirety, and though the dinghys lay just a few feet away, they all seem to be waiting for something.

     A small, almost mouselike young man in remarkably fine clothes comes forth. He wears a pair of spectacles, and beneath the fabric of his finely-woven shirt, carries a thick and weathered tome. He silently walks to the front of the crowd of pirates, many of whom stand a good two heads above the lad. He looks to and fro, frowning slightly like a jeweler taking measure of a stone. A table has been laid out for this young man, and he knows it's there--expects it to be so.

     This young man is called Dufresne, that much, Finna will know. But as he begins calling names, it's clear to the Lunar that the names called are those of the crew. This is obvious--but the purpose of the roll call is not immediately obvious until the pirates so called begin to step forward. Forward, and into the dingy. Evidently, who goes ashore first is determined by a roll call--the order of which is seniority. Where does that leave Finna?
Finna It largely leaves Finna ('Clara') prowling impatiently around the deck not far from the line that's formed. Her sharp ears can hear the names of course, she has little trouble seing what's happening either when she glances over. But her eyes are more focused on just where the Walrus has stationed itself.

    An impatient, eager smile's on her face. She can hardly wait to get back onto ground that isn't constantly shifting under her feet...
Captain Flint Patience has its just reward, as soon, Finna finds herself sitting with John Silver and another pirate. The other fellow ends up rowing, leaving the three of them to discuss this latest development. "Is this English soil?" asks Silver as New Providence Island comes into view. He looks to the pirate doing the rowing, and receives only a chuckle.

     "It used to be."
Finna "Go on then!" Finna leans forward in the boat, showing another of her mischevious, fearless little smiles. "Let's hear the tale!" Whether she's heard it or not, she isn't hinting. John here clearly doesn't know though, so now's a perfect opportunity to overhear....
Captain Flint "No tale, so as I know." The pirate shrugs. "Except if you're the practical sort."

     "How is that, exactly?" John looks between Clara and the pirate.

     "Simple enough. Nassau's too far out for England to manage. Spanish came and sacked the place twenty five years ago. Ever since then, it's been a pirate town, no matter what the king would say to the contrary."
Finna "Could've hoped for something a little more dramatic." Finna sighs, rolling her eyes. Then she up and lays an arm around John's shoulders, sidling up. "Soooo, looking forward to fine meals in the future! Don't know the taste of these parts much. ... Suspect its lots of fish..."

    She purses her lips. "Nobody comes out here to boss the people around, huh? Just means we get all the spoils instead of a self-absorbed lord!"
Captain Flint "I suppose," muses Silver. He seems not entirely closed to the idea, but most of his attention seems focused on the horizon. The conversation grows silent for a moment, before the rowboat pulls close enough to the water for the occupants to hop out and head ashore.

     Silver does just that, hopping off and sighing as the cool water contrasts the hot Bahamas air. He begins wading inwards. "Where do you come from, Clara?"
Finna "Eheheheheh. Prying into my secrets already, Silver?" Finna's steps seem oddly not super impeded by the wader as she wades in herself. "Some things are better left buried. Family goes back to Sweden, if you must know. Blood's a great mix of things..." She snorts in disgust although that might be exasperation.

    "Haven't seen home in forever though. Lot of time traveling all over. What brings me here, heh.. not much of a home to go back to." She makes a grousing face... it is pretty true, in a way.

    "More interested about here than there! Here's where fortune lies."
Captain Flint "I hear you," replies the Walrus' new cook. "I wouldn't mind enough money to live lavishly, myself. For right now, though, my interests are right here on the beach. I think the Captain might have taken one of my cookbooks--I'll have to get it from his man once he's ashore."

     Flint /is/ a lover of books, but no one ever said he was a chef. Is it that likely that Flint took Silver's cookbook? If he did, why would it have been in Parrish's cabin and not the kitchen? As far as the Lunar knows, that's the only place on board Parrish's ship where there were books.

     Perhaps Silver just wants to get rid of Clara? But why?
Finna "Hrm? Care for some company then?" 'Clara' blinks a few times. Why would Flint want a cookbook?

    She pauses in her stride to look John over. There are ways of telling a men's station and life by his looks after all. And for that matter, why would a simple cook be held prisoner on a ship?

    The woman spouts a devilish grin. "So what kind of cook doesn't know their recipes by heart, hm?" Instead of barging off, 'Clara' instead makes a dramatic show of sidling around behind John then playfully draping her arms over his shoulders.

    "What kind of cook gets themselves locked up You and the good captain are full of mysteries." She clucks her tongue and adds in a dainty-layful voice, "Though I'm one to talk..."
Captain Flint Silver chuckles, watching as now the Walrus' boats begin to come ashore with supplies to set up tents on the beach--just like the various other pirate cress. They also begin carrying cargo from Parrish's ship ashore, to be brought inland for consignment. If indeed he is a cook, he doesn't seem like a particularly experienced one. If anything, he's one of the younger members of the crew, closer in age to Billy than anyone else. He looks to either side of him, clearly not bothered by the display put on for his behalf. "I couldn't exactly fight them off, could I? I've no stations to man as cook."

     "My enclosure in the hold was merely an... unforeseen consequence of a sound decision. There's no mystery about it." He makes the statement like a merchant selling an item, trying to make his buyer aware of the great deal he's offering, just for them. Just for Clara. He then appends the pitch with an inocuous invitation. "I admit I'm rather new at the trade, having picked it up to put food on my own table. You're welcome to wait here with me, see for yourself."

     A reasonable defense, all considered--but it still fails to account for the presumption that Flint, the most feared pirate in the West Indies, has a secret love of cooking. Of all the rumors the crew has whispered conspiratorially to Finna at one point or another, that was never one of them.
Finna "Riiiiiiiiight. A newbie'd be so quick to offer services on a pretty tight-run ship on unproven skills." Finna singsongs quietly into Silver's ear. She lets go of him, but only so that she can walk out in front and wink conspiratorially at him. "If you say so, handsome."
Captain Flint "Awfully forward, aren't you?" he asks. "Not that I mind the attention, but I can't help wondering after your interest in me." He smiles at her, a charming thing, and clearly something he's practiced for a while.

     Dufresne comes ashore, along with a few of the senior crew, including Billy and DeGroot. It doesn't look like it'll be long before Flint himself comes ashore, but Silver seems quite interested in speaking to Dufresne about the aforementioned books. It seems like he's not really a chef. If that's the case, what's his interest in finding a set of books? Is that interest at all related to Flint's interest in securing certain items from Parrish a few days prior?
Finna "Two wildly different reasons!" Finna returns the smile. It's innocent enough on the surface... probably quite genuine! "First is being easy on the eyes. Second, hm. You're the handsome loot of that outing. Can't let a decent catch out of my sight!"

    ... Wait, is she flirting, insinuating his rescue wasn't incidental, or... both?

    Probably both.
Captain Flint Silver doesn't quite know what to make of FInna, and his dismissive chuckle shows it. When Dufresne gets his tent set up, all the members of the Walrus crew who'd helped bring cargo ashore begin helping the ship's logistics officer take an inventory of everything being presented for consignment. Silver approaches the bespectacled pirate and clears his throat.

     "I'm John Silver, the new cook. I was wondering if the crew might've brought any books ashore?"

     Dufresne nods, lifting a wicker basket and placing it upon his table. "Have a look," he invites.

     Silver begins pawing through the basket, spotting three books in particular that catch his attention. They all seem to be part of a volume, and judging by the numbers, the books present don't account for every one in the collection. 1, 3, and 4 are the volumes in the basket. Silver frowns at that, looking up at Dufresne. "This is it?"

     Dufresne sighs, annoyed. Adjusting his spectacles, he offers an explanation. "This is it," confirms the blond-haired bookworm. "Every book we found on ship. Anything else that might've been on board would've been taken by the captain, in which case, it's in his cabin." The word 'cabin' has a certain threat implied, Dufresne uttering the word as if it were a no-mans land which no sane crew member would dare enter.

     Silver gets the message, and promptly turns around, looking slightly frustrated at the turn of events.
Finna Observing this exchange, Finna's forced to crank her mental gears heavily and analyze the situation. Silver's clearly hiding a LOT of things, the Captain's hiding a bunch of things, and it all has to do with a book. A book she knows nothing about. A book that, even if she found it, wouldn't accomplish much...

    "Well, whatever dish he ends up serving'll be a heck of a thing!" Finna chimes airily, trying to inject some cheer Silver's way.

    Pft. So obvious. She turns to Dufresne and shrugs, clearly a sign that things like this just can't be helped. Can they?

    "Oi, when's the Captain comin' ashore, bookman?"
Captain Flint "Five minutes," replies Dufresne. It's really quite bizarre to see a man such as him amidst all of Nassau. If his clothes were a little cleaner, he could probably pass for a Threshold bureaucrat. "Give or take."

     Silver, meanwhile, doesn't seem so sure. "Now, Clara, let's not bother the captain. After all, we've just made port. I'd like to have my book, certainly, but I'm sure I could trade family recipes or something with someone in town..." Now this is interesting. Evidently, Silver doesn't want the captain to know he's looking for that book.
Finna Finna's expression towards DuFresne turns rather pleased. Is that a conspiratorial gleam in her eye? "You sure know this operation like the back of your hand, Dufresne! I've a lot to learn-- oh!"

    The woman about faces, gives Dufresne a little wave and tromps over after Silver! "Too true. Lots of fish in the sea... how do you wrangle that saying to recipes, I dunno. You wanna go find a place to unwind around here?"
Captain Flint "I'd love to," replies SIlver, turning to face the approaching Lunar. "Where did you have in mind?" There are a few places in town where interested sorts can take a load off. FIrst, there's the beach, which seems inches from anarchy but is in fact a loose conglomeration of independent pirate camps from each of the ships moored out in the bay. Pirates from the Walrus have set up their own little camp, with what passes for amenities spread haphazardly around one general area.

     Further inland, there's Nassau town, and the tavern where Finna originally signed on with Flint's crew. There's also the island's interior, but that's mostly farmland and tropical foliage.
Finna "Hmmmm... nothing wrong with food and drink. Get the feeling you're looking for something quieter'n the tavern, though." Finna answers uncertainly. "What floats your boat? Happy as a cloud just havin' solid ground beneath my feet!"
Captain Flint Silver shrugs. "I'm new," he admits. "But I'd certainly like something quiet. I need to collect my thoughts a moment before I leap headfirst into the revelry and all." As it happens there is a quiet place further up the beach. Since not every captain in Nassau is going to be there at once, there is actually ample free space if one is willing to head far enough down the beach. Silver lets himself be led along, but the moment they're out of earshot, he affixes Finna with a friendly smile.

     "How much would I have to pay you to... let me out of your sight a while?" If only he knew who he was asking.
Finna "Hmmhmmmmhmmm." Finna giggles conspiratorially. "Alone with a beauty and you just wanna walk off? Haha... have it your way. Bit of advice though! Whatever you're scheming, I wouldn't pull something on THAT man. Oh I won't say a word, but we both know HE already knows you're full of ham." She returns the smile, once again, 'it can't be helped.'

    "Scheme too much at your peril. If it's riches and adventure you want, that place on the maps, off the edges. Where they draw the serpents, the dragons, the dogheaded men..." Something in her eyes suggests a continuation of that. 'I'm from there.' But it might be a trick of the mind, easily blinked at and dismissed.

    "If you HAD all the treasure a man could want though, what would you do with it?"
Captain Flint "I don't think there's been such a map made in a long time. If there is, I haven't seen it," he says. "Perhaps the world's growing out of serpents and dragons." He doesn't answer Finna's second question, but his response to her suggestion offers ample insight. Silver is a survivor, a practical man. It's very possible that the dead man on Parrish's ship /was/ the cook, and Silver's just a man who abandoned his post to save himself. What would he do with treasure?

     Silver's no pirate, so it's hard to imagine him spending it all on women and ale. The problem is, it's also hard to imagine much else, because whatever he is, he clearly doesn't fit the scenery here, despite being a native of this world. He runs a hand through his long black hair, grinning coyly at Finna. "The pertinent question becomes why you think I'm scheming."
Finna Finna raises both hands up, shrugging in as cute and innocent a fashion as she can manage. The grin she answers is just as devilishly coy though. "Why get ants in the pants over a cookbook?"

    She snorts playfully. "You go do your wine women and song thing without me then. Shoo! To be honest Iiiii don't care that much. I've already got mine out of this deal. This doesn't really concern me.... s'long as you can fill everyone's bellies. I'm on that ship too!"

    She leans in, glaring a bit more intensely all of a sudden. She meant that it seems! She's looking forward to being treated to decent meals!
Captain Flint Silver chuckles at Finna's remark, evidently quite used to attention due to his looks. "By your leave," he remarks with a smirk, heading into Nassau proper.

     That, of course, just leaves Flint. How does he factor into this, and did he really take the third volume? Things do seem to be leading that way, with Silver looking for a missing book and one volume conspicuously absent. He never /said/ he was looking for that book, but it certainly seems like a big coincidence...
Finna "Guy doesn't know what he's missing." 'Clara' mumbles to herself, seamlessly slipping back into her rougher persona. Dismissively waving off in John's direction, she decides to double back and seek out... well, if he's anywhere in easy reach, Dufresne. She could have some questions for the accountant! But failing that, her next order of business is seeking out the captain for some socializing. Maybe eventually in private, if she can wrangle it without stoking more rumors...
Captain Flint Dufresne is seated, just as before, at his little table. The accountant busily scribbles down each load of cargo as it departs the Walrus, looking up for only a moment to take note of each piece. He does certainly seem an intelligent type, entirely unlike the usual for pirates. Then again, Flint also has a doctor, and is himself an avid lover of books by Dufresne's account. By the time Dufresne is in reach, the real man of the hour approaches: Captain Flint.

     He strides confidently down the beach, eyes set on the horizon... until he notices Clara. There's that furrowing of the brow again, and Flint, mindful of his earlier request, moves to intercept his newest pirate. He locks his eyes upon her, silently striding through the sand until the two of them are close enough to have a conversation. "You and I have a few things to discuss," offers the Captain. He looks over her shoulder at the warpgate in the bay, then back to her.
Finna Oooooh, drat. Clara at least hides her disappointment that she won't have a lenghtier opportunity to get to know the ship's main intellectual and through him, the all-important captain.

    Who is now staring right at her. The young woman sharply turns in place to face her superior. She catches where his eyes have drifted to.... and sprouts a grin.

    "You an open-minded man, Captain? You'd better be, if THAT's caught your eye..."

    She as well takes a look around, to see if anyone's about to observe the two... or if they're suitably private.
Captain Flint "More than you might think," replies Flint, peering out at it. "I hired you, after all. The only other woman on this island who sails with pirates is Anne Bonny. As you might've gathered from my crew, this profession isn't as progressive as the libertine attitudes of the crew might imply."

     Flint looks back at the Lunar just in time to see her looking around. "Don't bother," he says. "Even the private places on this island attract rumors. Better to discuss it here, where my men are occupied." He gestures behind him, as the crew of the Walrus busily move back and forth from town. Indeed--they're all mostly focused on their work.

     "You signed up for my crew only a few days after it showed up," observes Flint.
Finna "... o-HO. Yeah, did take me a while to notice how scant the supply of females is. Maybe a male guise would've been better, but I'm out of practice." 'Clara' declares in an 'it can't be helped' tone.

    "That thing, eh. It's a gateway. You ever seen the older maps, the ones with sea monsters everywhere, and off the edges... here they be dragons? Plot a course through that... you'll find all that and more out there. Riches and dangers beyond your craziest dreams. You're already living on the edge though. Can appreciate the risks, 'n the benefits..."

    She maintains that grin, as if evaluating the Captain. Perhaps not so subordinate. But neither is it overbearing in the slightest.

    "You've got good eyes. Sharp mind. Pretty impressive willpower, I'd say more than four grown men put together, since I've seen your attention flick towards what you shouldn't see..."
Captain Flint "I doubt you know the extent of those dreams," says the captain with cold certainty. Not just willpower, but the frightening cousin of willpower: ambition. "But what you say interests me, regardless. IF what you say is true, how is it that you came from such a place without need of a ship?" His attention, his demeanor, becomes more of a detached, scholarly interest as he reaches up to stroke his goatee.

     He fixes on her for a moment, pausing in his rumination about one thing to begin the same of another. The perceptive captain shakes his head after a brief but tense moment. "It seems an evaluation, the way you put it."
Finna "Can't say I do." Finna answers honestly. "Though that look in your eye, that tone of voice, it says much. Only come across that in people who've been betrayed. Heart full of vengeance, haven't seen it so clearly since I left my homeland..." The 'pirate woman' scowls a bit at the memories that she just dredged up and is quick to shake her head.

    "Swam. This isn't the place for a lady like me to reveal her secrets. Doubt you'd spill all of yours to me either. All that for a book or two? Must be some book." Clara's eyes all but shine, showing she's on the track of that plot.

    "Hmmm... shouldn't I evaluate someone I decided to follow for a while? Weak leaders can be manipulated, they won't last long. Strong ones, hehe. You're fun to watch and learn from! My contract of service stands. You paid for Clara the vanguard, though..."

    The girl winks, slips both her hands behind her back in an unusually cutesy way... and just for the Captain, he sees someone else standing before him after a blur of light. A glimpse of Finna as she really is. The huntress of the north with long white hair and a very different face, clear and expressice icy blue eyes... and twitching fox ears and a swishing tail. Far too much skin showing, for the locale is just too warm for her usual attire... the leather's been reduced in coverage significantly.

    But that five second glance is all he gets. Like moonlight rippling on water, the illusion clears up.

    Although he may find spotting the ears and tail to be easier now...

    "Not Finna Snowdancer of the north."
Captain Flint Flint takes a long, deep sigh at the mention of vengeance. Has he been betrayed? Of course he has, states the cold anger in the oceans of his eyes. He nods, slightly, fully granting the perceptive Lunar some small insight into himself. He certainly doesn't expect the gesture to be reciprocated.

     "The contents of that book are the sole reason I react to your overtures without the bright-eyed enthusiasm that you surely expect." The captain expects that to be that, given the certainty of that admission. When the Lunar outright confirms his suspicions, the captain's interest only peaks, the hard man studying Finna like a natural philosopher might study an interesting bird. Then, Finna reveals something about herself, proving the captain wrong an apparently unprecedented two times.

     Flint raises an eyebrow at the reveal, for a moment unclear of its nature. That moment fades and leaves not fear, disbelief, or fright, but interest. "I see," he says. "You want to leverage me into renegotiating your contract, then."
Finna Finna, instead, is the one to be SHOCKED at Flint's non-perturbed look. It takes a moment to set in on her. What she expected to see on him is instead showing on her own face. A bit of bewildered amazement. So profound is her amazement at the man's composure that it gets her own to drop. Though the bright-eyed look of amazement slowly and profusely shifts, her lips curling up a bit into an ambitious and altogether PLEASED (but not HAPPY) smile, eyes gleaming with approval and genuine RESPECT. A bit of awe? "... My, you ARE something."

    She responds to the comment with a shake of her head. "Thoooooose services are up for renogotiation, but Captain... if you could wave your arm and say 'spirit of the lamp, fetch me all the world's riches, slit all my enemies' throats, make me emperor'... doesn't that make everything you're trying to do, everything your men serve for, completely worthless? You wouldn't be satisfied unless it's all done /your/ way."
Captain Flint "You're a smart woman, Finna of the North." He is something, but what exactly he is remains to be seen. "But what I'm looking for is that very same lamp in a different form. Imagine the life of those men is the only life you've ever known. Your country considers you a monster, your king declares you an enemy, and all because you hold on to what's yours. Imagine, then, the ability to be /free/ from that life. Never to have to fight just to eat, ever again." He doesn't stop there, for even though he pauses the picture he paints is far from finished.

     "Imagine a place like this, a place entirely without abuse disguised as law and order, a place unashamed to show the world its true face. Imagine you, and your brothers and sisters, each having a common stake in that place, free from the yoke of a king. And now, imagine that place is /your/ nation."

     He stops, observing Finna with quiet and fierce intensity. Then, because his will demands it, he returns to normal, as easily as ever. With that same scholarly interest and a charming, roguish smile that comes from nowhere, he cordially adds, "Now. Would you take the lamp?" He chuckles almost convivially. "I would. Could your world of dragons give me such a lamp? Because I know of one, right here in mine--and there's a seat at the table for you. If you'll take it."
Finna The awed, ambition-filled look Finna's been giving the captain just broadens! "Can't say it's not a glorious dream worth fighting for. Would reach for that in a few heartbeats! Well, the only person here who can guide you through those unknown worlds is right here. Can't say I've come across any lamps like in the stories, but there are... other treasures. But you're not the only shark in the waters, Captain. There's forms of warfare, sorceries and true monsters and disasters out there. You sure will find what you want out there, but don't hold it against me if you bite off too much too fast! ... Well, s'pose that's where I come in, in case you do." She beams conspiratorially at James, a hand slamming into place on her hip.

    "But if a King doesn't lead, who does?"
Captain Flint Flint considers what Finna has to say, for a notable time after the Lunar has said her piece. To her final remark, he offers only a dispassionate, detached expression. His expression communicates that, whatever his reply, he believes it to be obvious. Ambitious? In the extreme.

     "Good," he says simply, nodding at her in affirmation. "If what you say is true, then I can't afford not to explore this place. I take it visiting involves the gate?" He nods slightly towards it, careful not to gesture and in so doing give cause for more rumors among the men. "My men and I can be ready to head through it at daybreak tomorrow. What would you ask in return for your guidance in the matter?"
Finna "Uh-huh. Gotta plow straight through it. It leads to a... corridor-like in-between. Like a hall of doors. Each door goes to different places. I know a place you can go to get in touch with mercenary networks who don't ask questions. Probably your best starting point, information network spreads to every corner of what's known... and dabbles in what isn't. Like your little corner here! Which ismy price. The place at that table. Never had a place like THAT to call home..."

    Finna's still smiling up a storm, lost a bit in dreamland on what that kind of place might be like. Free to just be herself, no crazy rules? Sounds almost too good to be true, or real. But she's an Exalt. She'll cross hurdles like 'impossible' when she needs to!
Captain Flint Flint is, evidently, satisfied with that answer. He offers a hand to Finna, and, should she take it, offers her the firm handshake of equals. "Done," he offers, with no hesitation whatsoever. This reveals something else about him--that, whatever is in that book, however impossible its acquisition, he believes without doubt that he can get it.

     "I've some business to attend to in the interior, but know this. When we set sail tomorrow, we do so for this world of yours. And if you should lead me to this network, not only will you share a seat at my table, you'll find the day you take that seat to be all the sweeter. Have we an accord?"
Finna The black-haired young woman reaches out and grasps the hand for a firm shake. "We certainly do!"

    For once in her adventuring in the Multiverse, Finna's come across a situation she feels she's much to learn from, much to gain from. Even if she must tread carefully.

    This captain can see through her tricks, after all.