The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat & Calison)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Wintercat on 29-01-2016, 21:16:05</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wintercat</strong> on <strong>29-01-2016, 21:16:05</strong>
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				It was an early morning hour, and the people around the town of Crescent were just starting to awaken for most part. Their town was a peaceful one, resting between a tall ridge of stones protecting the back of their settlement, their large bay and its gentle shores greeting the other edge of town. The isle and the town itself had got their name from the way their isle was shaped like a crescent moon, a whisper saying it was the remnants of a much greater isle once punished by an angry demon that shattered the heart of the isle and sank it down to the bay, but few would argue that the people had made the best of it. <br><br>The small inlet at the end allowed for two ships to pass through without trouble, under the careful watch of the two watchtowers built at the mouth of the inlet, besides a third, taller tower that served as a lighthouse. Beyond those, the sides of the crescent moon mostly housed small farms or open fields of grass for the small bits of cattle brought up there. The place was peaceful for most part, but also boring, stuck in its ways, and in many ways, restrictive. The Temple of the Divine Host lay some way away from the shore and the harbor, but the place more commonly visited by any outsiders coming for a visit was the local tavern. The one the people whispered would have seen more activity was a brothel, but the people in town were reluctant to have one open in their settlement. It was just so against the very nature of their leaders after all.<br><br>In this early morning atmosphere in this traditional, restricted but peaceful settlement came a lone ship this morning, a fair sized vessel pushing through the waters with the sails filled by the wind, and crew rushing about, a lone man with a mop washing the deck while grumbling, another above in the crow's nest smirking while looking at the town through a spyglass. Flying high in its mast was the flag of Sovereign, declaring them independant of any kingdoms or guilds. These were not unusual as such, as many Sovereign were masters of their own fate, looking to make a break and become successful enough to start a guild of their own eventually. Yet they were also the most diverse bunch.<br><br>Gazing at this ship however, the guards in the towers found themselves amused, and in part frowning. The younger ones found the name 'Salted Sea-Wench' hilarious, while the ones who were older and with a stiff upper lip look about them were annoyed at the presence of a ship so named, coming up with more than one interpretation to the name as well despite the fact that they supposedly did not possess a dirty imagination but were good, well-mannered and upstanding citizens that the people around Crescent claimed to be, complete with moral upbringing that was against the ways of some less peaceful isles out there. <br><br>Aboard the ship, a tall black wolven man was tying a string around the leg of a raven waiting patiently for him to be done, looking at the man more or less annoyed at how long he took, before setting off to fly away to find the one it was intended to. This was Tyrian, and he was the ship's first mate, and the current acting captain of the vessel. Watching the bird fly off, he sighed wearily before moving on to bark orders to the men, wanting the ship to be at ready when the message reached its destination to deliver the news. <br><br>The Captain was dead. It was time for the new captain to take their place. Hopefully that would happen soon, Tyrian was not opposed to visiting a port now and then but he felt better out at sea, and when he chose a port he preferred one that offered more than Crescent supposedly did, from all he had heard, but on the other hand this was the place that the captain had left him instructions to come to, and the messenger bird he had released earlier to send the <em>first notice</em> of the death of the former captain had headed this way. Not sure if it had reached its recipient in the end or not, he now set off the Raven and entrusted the former captain's instructions to help him find the person that was supposed to take over. Sighing wearily he eyed the crew, grumbling quietly underneath his breath. <br><br>Fit, muscular, and carrying both a sabre at his left side, and a flintlock pistol on his right, he was trying to keep order, but the crew would only listen to him to a certain point. Superstitious lot, they already whispered about a curse that would be on all of them unless they carried out the late captain's will, and Tyrian knew that if he wanted to keep the crew together, they needed the one they had come to get. Blood would tell, they said. Even if the person had been an islander before, they would get their sea-legs soon enough.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Calison</strong> on <strong>29-01-2016, 22:11:07</strong>
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				Alisa Seahurst sat alone in her father's study, attempting to balance an accounts sheet set before her. She had been groomed and educated to assist the management of the family's cider business. They bought fruit from the small farms and other fertile islands nearby and made a wide selection of ciders they would export back out into the world. They had only one trade vessel of their own--most of their sales were through independent merchants that knew that Seahurst Ciders was perhaps the best around.<br><br>Alisa would have rather shot herself than to spend her days looking over ledgers and affirming no one messed up the numbers. She had other duties of course, but this was by far the most mind-numbing and everything else she did on behalf of her family wasn't exactly very demanding nor interesting. She had spent most of her life in Crescent and on the isle itself. She had grown up listening to tails of the high seas, courtesy of her uncle Marshal. Uncle Marshal did not get along with her parents. They called him a bad influence and a 'black sheep' of the family. Her father disapproved of his brother insistence of living a life on the seas and engaging in whatever debauchery that came with such a life, instead of helping out the family. When Alisa blossomed into womanhood some eight years earlier, she had ceased to see hide or hair of her uncle.<br><br>The first sign she would receive of her uncle since came flying through the opened window of the study. Alisa looked up at the fluttering of wings as a raven landed on her desk, planting its feet firmly on the ledger she had been looking through. A message was tied to its leg. Alisa unbound the message and looked its content over. She jumped up from her seat and rushed out of the study and made a beeline for her quarters. <br><br>She took care to make it to her room unseen by the servants. She threw off her long, 'proper-lady' dress that was much too warm for the the weather and threw on a skirt that hovered above her knees and a leather vest that she buttoned up to show a tease of her amble cleavage. Stockings and boots, and a pair of fingerless gloves completed her outfit. She fished under her bed for a box she kept hidden from her parents. Within was a tricorn hat and a pair of daggers. She tucked the daggers into her belt and crowned herself with the hat.<br><br>After leaving her parents with a heartfelt, though hastily written message of parting, Alisa sneaked out of the estate the Seahurst family kept on a hill overlooking the rest of the town. She headed straight for the docks, where her uncle's old crew awaited her. The news of her uncles's passing hit Alisa hard, but from the way the letter was worded, it hadn't been the first to been sent. And her parents had not said a word of it to her.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wintercat</strong> on <strong>29-01-2016, 22:33:32</strong>
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				Coming to rest at the dock, the ship was quickly secured to the moorings by a pair of ropes thrown overboard, the short walkway extended down to the pier. The first things down to the dockside were crates loaded up with a fair share of metal ingots. A few smaller crates contained well made tools from further off, and a couple of barrels of strong, spiced rum were also rolled down there to go through the local customs, which for Crescent actually meant being inspected, rather than just dealing with a bribe-hungry dock-master to mark things checked and having them brought out. Shouting orders, Tyrian was leading the unloading before seeing a dock-master approaching, heading to meet the man with a manifest already prepared. <br><br>"Tyrian of Davenport, Acting Captain of The Salted Sea-Wench. We got into a storm a bit earlier and it depleted our rations rather well fighting it. We're hoping to buy some supplies, restock on ropes to replace those broken fighting the storm, to purchase some of the famous cider while we are here anyway, and to stock our larder. We got iron ingots alongside steel ingots, some spiced rum that the crew was reluctant to part with, and some tools from the Redstone harbor town. Figured we'd sell stuff in a place further off without mines of their own, but I figure these should let us cover the expenses and get a bit of income along the way." He spoke in a calm tone of voice while explaining, perhaps overly much, about what their intentions were. The way these people here might be he figured it was easier for them to accept someone who brought in trade, wasn't there to cause trouble, and who even brought in stuff that they might need. <br><br>"Huh. I suppose we could make use of it, we do have mines but mostly we get our coal from the ground. I am not sure if there's much market for metals, some, yes, definitely, but not sure how much. Still, lets see the goods and I'll get wagons brought in to take your stuff to the warehouse and have the stuff you want brought back to the ship if you arrange the actual deal with the merchant. We prefer to not clutter our docks for long and its right there anyway." He pointed at one of the five bland, seemingly same plain wooden warehouses a bit further off, the only difference being a number painted above each door. "The warehouse three is for quick trades usually, so that works out." While the man got to work inspecting the goods, he seemed to be trying to find a reason to complain, but so far the human man was not seeing anything. Seeing as these folks were at least trying to be decent enough and talk without that god-awful nautical gibberish he kept hearing from some folks the dock-master decided to just get it over with without making them any trouble.<br><br>"Everything looks fine. Alright, have one of your men escort the shipment and watch over it, I'll let the merchants around know where to look for you, and figure that your arrival has already been noticed. Good day." Walking off with a pompous look on his face as he headed back towards the town, the man waved to a pair of lads chatting near a set of wagons near the warehouses, gesturing at the direction of the dock with his thumb while writing stuff down onto a small notebook then. <br><br>The docks were not too busy at the hour, so Tyrian shifted from one foot to another, his golden eyes watching the shoreline, his black ears twitching slightly, his tail lazily swaying. Pleased to be here and to have got over the meeting with the dock-master easy enough, he still wanted to get on the move and leave this place soon. Nodding at two of his men, he watched as the large horse-man, Aran took a firm hold of the rum barrel lifting it up while it had been rolled in by two men earlier, showcasing the muscle lined arms of the brown horse-lad, his white sailor shirt mostly clean for a change, but the torn pants held up by a rope once again. Aran had a habit of tearing clothes anyway. <br><br>"Go watch after the trade, and take Scar with you. He's a bastard but he's our bastard at least." Smirking slightly he left the horse-man to nod and go retrieve the ship's quartermaster. Tyrian waited until both of them were heading off towards the warehouse alongside the loaded wagons before taking a breath and stepping up to rest a hand on the door to the captain's quarters. Part of him wanted to enter, but another one reminded him that he was just the acting captain. Spitting over the side of the ship, he moved back to the walkway, waiting to see whether they'd be finished loading up first or if their new captain would get there first. Either way, there was little sense of letting the men off to shoreleave here. No brothel and just one bar, they'd get into a fight in no time and make the ship look bad for the captain before they even got to the open ocean.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Calison</strong> on <strong>01-02-2016, 23:52:11</strong>
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				Crescent was largely an island inhabited by humans. To Alisa's knowledge there were a few other families who made their lives here that were of other races, and most of them human or fair looking enough to trusted by the conservative community. The docks were the place to see people, mostly men, of all kinds. The raven-brought letter had said she was to meet her uncle's first mate, Mr. Tyrian, a wolf that she had some memory of. Having been on The Salty Sea-Wench before, Alisa knew exaxtly what ship she was looking for. <br><br>This had been the first time she had been to the docks in months. As her father was easing her into many of the clerical duties she would be responsible for, Alisa had visited the warehouse several times, to get acquitted with the people who ran them and the harbor master himself. She pulled her tricorn down in an attempt to obscure her face. The last time she was here, many of the regular dock workers had recognize her on sight. She didn't need her parents finding out any sooner than they had too. <br><br>Approaching The Salty Sea-Wench, Alisa gave the wolf-man a slight bow, taking her hat off to reveal her face more fully. "Master Tyrian, it has been far too long." She gave the wolf-man an excited smile. "I do wish this was under better circumstances, however."
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wintercat</strong> on <strong>02-02-2016, 20:54:00</strong>
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				There were a few people along the way that looked at her in passing but did not let their gaze linger. The tricorn hat gave her enough protection to keep the casual observer from noticing who she was, and that cover lasted long enough for her to make her way to the ship. On stepping up to the ship's deck she found the wolf-man taking a look at her, his right ear flicking briefly, his eyes widening a little, and at her words, his jaw rising to a warm smile followed by a chuckle and a grin. <strong>"Glad to see you again miss, and yes it has been quite a while. Last I saw you was quiet a while back. Your dad didn't quite agree with the late captain after all."</strong> He paused for a moment at that before taking up more serious expression.<br><br><strong>"The circumstances could be better but still, welcome aboard and I hope you haven't forgotten what the scurvy old sea-dog tried to teach you before, eh? I am just waiting for our quartermaster to return with the goods from the local merchants, and sent one of our strikers with him. Guy named Aran, been along for a couple of months now. We're sailing with several bunks empty, but we've been bringing in enough to the ship's coffers to be able to handle a trade here and there. Anyhow, if you're willing to take up the offer made in the letter, the cap's hat belongs to you. So do the cap's quarters."</strong> He smirked slightly and reached around tow wrap an arm around her back, the hand on her shoulder walking her towards the door nearby. <strong>"Figure I ought to note though, we're not planning to stay long in port in this place, just finish the trade and head on forth to the sea. We got a destination in mind to start off with to finish a little trip and make some coin, past that, the ship's yours and we'll follow your lead."</strong> Tyrian grinned warmly at that, while there was a splash as a tall, bare-armed green-skinned man threw a bucket of dirty water overboard, before sighing and grabbing the mop and the bucket and heading down towards the hatch below deck.<br><br><strong>"That's Fist, or Saruk if you go asking his real name, but he answers to Fist more easily. Good lad if we get in trouble, handy both with a weapon and bare handed, strong, and not terribly bothered with dirty jobs either. Just don't ask him to cook or navigate."</strong> Tyrian grinned slightly. <strong>"He can, but he puts a ton of hot peppers or spices into everything, and maps aren't his strong point. Though he's got no trouble helping reload the guns below deck if we run into any trouble."</strong> Tyrian nodded, before humming. <strong>"Oh, and before we sail off, figured I'd let you in on a little thing. Ain't no other women on board. A couple come and gone previously, but none aboard for a short bit now so if you get lads staring at your arse, eh we'll just have to sail to a port with a proper brothel to get them to let off steam soon."</strong> He winked and grinned, allowing a relaxed breath out. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Calison</strong> on <strong>04-02-2016, 19:41:27</strong>
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				"Oh, the faster we're out of here, the better I think things will be for all our us," Alisa said, trying to more excitement in her voice than concern. There was no telling when they'd come looking for her or when her absence would be noticed. But honestly...she didn't really feel bad all things considered. Not after the recent events her parents had put her through.<br><br>She let Tyrian usher her onto the <em>Wench</em> and give her a tour of the ship. She regarded the door to the captain's quarters with a mix of emotions--excited to know what lay beyond would be hers, but the feeling dampened, knowing that her uncle wouldn't be bursting through and demanding to know where his 'little missy' is. A lump caught in her throat, but she locked down the feelings and kept the tears at bay. Thanks to the past few years, Alisa had become quite adept at compartmentalizing her feelings; she wrapped these one up and shunted them back to the back of her mind, where she'd deal with them later.<br><br>Alisa looked Fist up and down. She'd only seen orcs maybe once, twice before. And that was while with her uncle on one of the trips he managed to spirit her away on. As a kid she found them fascinating. Now...she couldn't help but lick her lips. And she felt a tinge of excitement when Tyrian mentioned that there'd be no other lasses on board. "Oh, I don't think that will be a problem at all, Master Tyrian." No matter how she said it, the suggestion would still be in her words, if not her voice.<br><br>She'd let Tyrian give her the remaining tour of the ship. The captain's quarters, she would insist on saving for last.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wintercat</strong> on <strong>04-02-2016, 20:08:45</strong>
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				"Alright, now then, to the aft on the top deck we have the captain's quarters and above it the bit of empty space for the machinery connected with the wheel, plus the padding to keep the noise outside. To the fore, we got the navigator's office, complete with the maps and the ship's sextant. There's a number of log books there as well, and past manifests. It would be fair to call it a mixture of navigator's office and an archive for the papers." Tyrian smiled while leading her to the hatch down below deck, showing a mid-ship section with interior walls separating the aft of the ship just beneath the captain's quarters from the mid-ship. <br><br>"Now, to the back we got the ship's healer's office, its currently empty as we don't got a surgeon on board. The mid-ship here contains the hammocks, and past that is the ship's kitchen." Tyrian opened the doors to show her a room with a pair of beds at the sides, with shelves against the back wall holding jars of different ointments and mortar and pestle, as well as other healer's tools of trade. The beds were rough but sturdy, and at the very middle a wooden desk that could probably double as an operating table in a hurry. There was a desk besides the door into the room with a couple of books on a shelf above about treating wounds. <br><br>"We rarely find a need for a healer here, but in case it does happen we do need one, the books here should help with minor issues until we can reach a port, the ointments and potions there being something we'll resort to in case of something more serious until we can reach port. The kitchen, well, people cook in turns, unless they're specifically excluded from the list. Keeps people from complaining too much since we lost our actual chef a few ports back. Some smug bastard of a nobleman made an offer that got -her- off board in a hurry." Tyrian's snort at this voiced his impression of the loyalty of that past crew-mate clearly. <br><br>"Down in the mid-deck we got the guns at their ports. At the back, we got some storage space for a few barrels of gunpowder, and the cannon balls. The cannons got small boxes with a few shots in them at ready, but we keep most of it a bit away to have space to move around the guns. Eight guns on both sides, we can give a fair bit of punishment to anyone that wants to mess with us." He sounded proud at that. "To the fore, we got the 'bathroom' when someone has to wash up. Half a barrel to serve as a bath, and a larger barrel on its end with steps besides it to help climb in, and a mid-ring to have space to get two folks in at once if necessary." He snorted at this. "I would like to say its useless addition but eh, some of the crew insisted and repurposing a couple of barrels was easy enough, and having the gunpowder stocked at the fore of the ship seemed risky. Lastly, the bottom deck..." He gestured her to follow along, to reveal a large open space with cargo-crates and barrels there in storage racks. At the fore, a storage area seeming to house a few large barrels on stands with the more familiar gunpowder, and to the back, the ship's machinery. <br><br>Besides the rudder outside, there were a pair of old mechanical devices supposedly able to push the ship onwards in the water even when the wind wasn't blowing, but taking a fair bit of work to crank into working shape. It was still less muscle power than it would take for a crew to get out oars and row the ship along, though taking a small ship ahead and rowing to pull the ship along behind it was a possibility, the devices inside were meant to keep them going.<br><br>"Never did see what the old cap'n had in mind with these, thankfully never really had to use them, we've been fine waiting around in case of no wind, never having such a huge rush, but since he got them in trade from the gnome that didn't have the money to pay the full sum to move his cargo across the waves to another isle, he figured it was better to have them and not need them, than to not have them and find out we needed them." Tyrian smirked, before heading up to lead her back towards the ship's aft, and the captain's quarters there on top of the deck. While walking around, she could see the ship had at least three dozen people around, going about in a hurry, but beyond a few quick curious looks and a lone wolf-whistle, ironically coming from a pink-skinned, pig nosed fellow with a cook's hat on his head at the time. She might have noticed a large brown-furred bull-guy sniffing the air after her and smiling amusedly in passing too, though.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Calison</strong> on <strong>04-02-2016, 21:45:35</strong>
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				The tour was really a formality Alisa wanted to have. In the relative few times she had be aboard she had explored the <em>Wench</em> from top to bottom. It was largely the same since she last be aboard. Though, the gnomish device Tyrian showed off to her was certainly the newest addition she could see. Machinery that replaced oars during dead winds? She looked forward to seeing it in action...though she prayed that they wouldn't be put in that position. Really, it felt like coming home. She remembered her uncle giving her this very tour on her first voyage.<br><br>During the tour, the looks and whistle she receive didn't go unnoticed. In fact, when she caught the stares, she gave the men a playful wave and, in the case of pig-man, a wink. She'd turn and give the bull-man a smile before disappearing up deck again with Tyrian. Onto the last stop. "I'd like to enter the captain's quarters alone," she said. Alisa held out her hand, expecting the wolf-man to handover the key.
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wintercat</strong> on <strong>15-02-2016, 22:37:30</strong>
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				Tyrian smiled and let out a long breath. "Of course, captain, I got the key here. I also got orders from the late captain to not go there beyond the need of cleaning up and retrieving his personal map after what happened." The wolven man lifted up a bronze key from his pocket to present to her, at the end of a short chain. "The captain's own personal key. I got a spare in case of an emergency, but you can demand I hand it over as well if you wish." He offered this in a casual fashion before smirking to her. "I will however promise that I won't rent it out to any of the crew no matter how they'd ask or plead even if you leave it in my possession, but I figure I'd offer just in case." Grinning slightly he tossed that out as a joke, but rested on his feet in a relaxed fashion.<br><br>The captain's quarters awaiting just past the door revealed a simple three-sectioned room, with half the room past the door leading to an office with a desk facing the door, a chair behind it before the large windows outside. Past that along the back were two rooms along the side wall, the one closer to the ship's back and with a window opening up to a room half the size of the office, with little more than a large square bed resting before the window, and with enough room on both sides to cross over to lay down, the wall between it and the last section of the captain's quarters housing a small wall-closet that was currently empty other than a few white blouses, black pants, belts, boots, and a lone scimitar. The last section, a similar quarter of the space available was devoted to a wooden tub and toilet seat, complete with small water stones in them that could, if their magic worked, provide some clean though hardly drink-worthy water to clean up with. Both also held drain-pipes outside, letting them be emptied relatively easily and privately. <br><br>The office had a large cork-board on one wall that seemed suited for keeping notes, another wall hosting a map of the nearby isles, the desk holding a couple of parchment maps, one appearing to be of a particular small island with a peaceful little bay for repairs and what not, and how to navigate to avoid the shallows near it. Another one seemed to contain description of a smaller isle but without the coordinates to give her an idea where the isle was exactly, yet based on that map something was left there, an x marked on it clearly enough along with some instructions, along with a bit of words in draconic. Scholarly, mage language more than proper sailors language, but still. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Calison</strong> on <strong>08-04-2016, 07:41:04</strong>
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				"What an odd thing to reassure me of," Alisa said, giving Tyrian a cocked eyebrow. She accepted the key, but motioned for the first mate to keep the spare. "I trust you enough to know that you'll do your utmost to make sure it stays in your possession."<br><br>She couldn't help but smirk to herself, thinking on what Tyrian had said about desperate men wanting to get into her quarters. Her mind didn't cross the thought of material goods, because Alisa was more than certain what 'treasure' they sought. <em>"They needn't go to such lengths--all they need do is ask."</em> Alisa thought to herself, biting her lower lip. She'd close the door behind her, though not before thanking Tyrian for the complete tour.<br><br>It was hard to not be overcome with nostalgia. On the short voyages she accompanied her Uncle Marshal on, Alisa stayed in this very room. Her uncle gave her the bed while he took the seat at his desk, something she might have protested if it weren't for the fact the chair looked more than comfortable enough on it own. Marshal could be such the night owl that Alisa often drifted off to sleep to the scratching of his quill. Now there wouldn't be a quill singing her to sleep.<br><br>The tears were falling down her cheeks before Alisa realized they were there. She was hovering by the desk, where she had sat on her uncle knee while he taught her how to reach charts, where they took their meals. This cabin, for the relative few times she stayed there, felt more like home than the manor ever did. But now there was something that would be forever missing. Alisa allowed herself to let the tears spill; she sat in the desk chair and bawled until her eyes were red and no more tears could be given.<br><br>Eventually, she was looking through the last notes her uncles made. The description of the smaller isle caught her attention. She attempted to read the instructions that were left, as well as try to make heads or tails of the draconic. Her uncle had taught her very basic phrases, both written and spoken, that would be useful for trade purposes--some mages held themselves in such esteem that they refused to speak business in any 'lower' language.<br><br>Regardless of what she was able to gleam, she would eventually call for or seek out Tyrian. This was her vessel now, the crew hers. They had to get business sorted.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wintercat</strong> on <strong>03-08-2016, 19:55:22</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Tyrian barked a short laugh and then offered a smirk in return while looking at Alisa in an amused manner. "I figured it would be curious to see how you'd take it, and a bit of a warning alongside that the crew's out at the ocean for quite a while pent up and far from any women, kind of the reason why they get into fights when visiting towns, not enough ladies of the night to keep them out of trouble." He winked at her at this point but shrugged casually. <br><br>As her thoughts passed through her mind and Tyrian saw her close the door she was left to peace to rest and grieve if need be. Nonetheless, the place was now hers and would be changed to suit her if need be, but at the time time was of the essence which was why they had got underway so quickly. The peace and quiet allowed for her to work through the grief without others watching at least. <br><br>Once she got into the notes left by the old man that was her predecessor to the captain's seat she was given an ample supply of information in them that would take a while to decode though. Draconic as it was, a lot of those marks were in short-hand the old man was prone to using. Still, the man wrote the same in common trade language as dragonic, so the short-hand terms were at least somewhat familiar to her as well, while a non-family member would have probably been so out of luck trying to figure out some of those things there. <br><br>There were a few things of note at least. One of them was an island marked with tags 'dangerous', 'monsters' and 'ruins', along with a short description of an earlier colony that had been built when the people found the isle housed both highly fertile soil from the local old volcano, but also held a great amount of mineral riches in the caverns on the smaller hillsides near the central volcano. Unfortunately, according to those notes, they had also been rather arrogant about the whole thing rubbing it other's faces. The small portrait of a rather smug white persian feline male in a pompous frilly overcoat said enough. Apparently their loud celebrations had eventually drawn the attention of some locals from another island just visible in the horizon, who had quickly turned the 'rich and fertile new eden' into a 'bloody nightmare from hell'. <br><br>No actual description of the monsters was included, but mentions of 'gold', 'salvage' and 'old lore &amp; art' were there definitely, along with a half-made plan of how to loot the settlement in a hurry, but based on the stains and faded lines it had been reworked over and over for quite a while and then left be. <br><br>Another matter was an isle marked to hold a sizable fortress that was always open for trade, especially foodstuffs, but also anything more luxurious though in small quantities. Guardsmen stationed there were given some leeway by their officers, since they were stuck there for over five years not seeing any women by the notes of it, so the officers made sure the men could at least indulge in little vices with their pay as long as they didn't abandon their duties.<br><br>All that done though, Alisa found the time was ripe to locate 'Tyrian of Davenport' then. Opening the door to take a glance at the deck she'd find a couple of men already in the mast, adjusting the sails there while wind was picking up and carrying them onwards. Tyrian was at the helm, standing besides what appeared to be a fennec fox. Long sharp ears and a coat of an officer in training, but with its ranks torn off, and the coat itself tarnished from wear. The fox's crimson fur a bit ruffled, his gaze shifting to her, and Tyrian's eyes quickly following.<br><br>"Ahh, captain, I'm pleased to note we're well under way and the winds are favorable. Ahh, and this is Morty, and no its not short for Mortimer, he's refused to elaborate more than that name. Joined a few ports back, got a steady hand and can-do-attitude as well as some idea of navigation, but kinda stiff on the lip." The fennec fox kept a polite silence through the whole thing, but his ear twitched every once in a while at a few remarks there by Tyrian, his eyes seeming to appreciatively look her over though, seeming to linger quite long at her hips before noticing he had been noticed looking, though not blushing but just focusing back at the wheel instead.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Salted Sea-Wench (Wintercat &amp; Calison)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Calison</strong> on <strong>10-08-2016, 10:31:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hearing herself addressed as 'captain' was equal parts empowering and melancholic for Alisa, but she took it all in stride as Tyrian introduced her to Morty. She gave the fennec fox a nod, trying to hold his gaze with her own as if to say 'I know you were looking'. She could hardly hold it against him though. "Pleasure to meet you, Morty," Alisa said. "I hadn't realized I was in the aft for so long; the port's nearly a speck." She took a moment to just scan the deck and the scurrying of the <em>Wench</em>'s crew. The time she had seen this scene was seated atop her uncle's shoulders--now it was on her own two feet. She sighed, listlessly, before mentally slapping herself.<br><br>"Where are we currently sailing for, Tyrian? I may have an idea or two for something lucrative, and it isn't just offloading some Seahurst brew on those sorely in want of it." She gave the helmsman an impish smile. There was a lot of preparation to do if the notes on the map were anything to go by, but Alisa had her goal very clear in mind. "Did my uncle tell you about a certain island that was a failed colony overrun by monsters and natives?"<br><br>If they had a prior course, Alisa would let them stay on it for the time being. She needed to take inventory, or have inventory taken for her. Alisa needed to know what they had. Food, ammo, weapons, other supplies. What they didn't have they would need to trade for--but this was all before an actual sweep of the island itself. Alisa would need to physically see what they were up against if she was going to make a good plan for looting the isle. If not outright conquering it. "I trust someone has been keeping an up-to-date ledger of all the ship's assets?"
			</dd>
		</dl>
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