High Tides And Antics (Mien/Shiva)

[Mien]

They had docked on the wharf earlier that day with the sun blistering the tops of their heads from high in the sky and the seabirds screaming overhead as they circled for their lunch. This was no bustling city that stunk of shit, piss, the fetid harbor of too many bodies packed into one place; here was a place that still had that clean, crisp feel that was just far enough away from society to be considered pleasant. A fishing town, lazy in that they were far enough away from the big cities to be content and close enough that they had swelled with enough profits that they were comfortable. Small enough to be quaint but large enough to be bored.

At least that was how the crew of The Tiger’s Eye felt as the sun began to lower itself below the horizon and they packed themselves into the lone inn that sat seaside, windows open so that the sea breeze could filter through and the view of the lapping waves against a low hanging cliff wall surrounded by rocky shores could be seen just outside the window. This was no bustling establishment, filled with the cacophony of sailors and brigands. In fact, only the alleged captain of the largest vessel in the wharf and two of the five in their party nursed their mead and grumbled about the season. The rest that occupied the inn consisted of a pair of old men who flipped cards at one another and occasionally grimaced or chortled their despair of satisfaction and flipped a coin onto the table at their last play. A group of fishermen had also wedged themselves in a corner, conversing about their catches of the day, sharing beer before they traipsed off to their home lives. Occasionally, the serving wench approached the foreigners’ table, hesitating with her pitcher as she eyed the Captain himself with an uncertain look in her large, dark eyes.

Karrandin Dareis Marnier had not always been something too intimidating for a lass to approach. That had only been something during the last pair of years or so - long enough that he hardly even noticed, or had at least desensitized himself from the sting of caring about his appearance. And really, it could have been his companion’s as well that had the girl hesitating on the fringes of his peripheral. He finally turned his head away from the other man, giving her his full stare. He smiled, but it came across cruel, making her look even more uncomfortable than what she had started with.

He couldn’t blame her.

It was the scar, jagged and pale and puckered in three parts, that ran from his left brow down the side of his face where the claws of some great cat had left its permanent mark. It ended in a hook on his upper lip, so that whenever he moved his mouth, it looked as though he was grimacing or sneering instead of the smile he attempted. It had also taken his eye, which was the most likely reason for this girl’s consternation. Rather than leaving the socket bare or placing a patch over the eye itself, he had opted to whittle and sand down the jewel that had led to his condition and pop it into the socket as a replacement.

It was oddly fitting.

The tiger’s eye glittered like its namesake, amber and gold, a darker onyx creased down its center that made it seem as though it truly was a cat’s eye that winked from his face. That mixed with everything else had aged the man by ten years to his actual twenty and a handful or so that he actually was, despite the fact that the lamps that were lit in sconces around them to illuminate the room where the natural light from outside didn’t showcased the fire in his hair. Red and gold matched the unruly mess on top of his head across his face, in desperate need of a trimming, and the single eye that crinkled naturally in a smile was warm hazel, or perhaps green, and sometimes blue if the day was bright enough and he was in a more pleasant mood.

“We will not bite, lass,” he assured her enough that she edged forward with a little curtsy. “Well, I don’t know about my friend here,” he grinned, making her pause again and turn her attention to the man that sat at his elbow, stone faced and square jawed.

The second man cut a more imposing figure than the ginger, if by height and build alone. Even from the distance that the woman stood, the faint scent of musk, woods, and animal clung to him that may have had to do with the leather fitted to his frame that was at least twice as large as the more leanly built Captain. Where Karrandin was also fair, easily blistered from the son despite the tan on his face, the second man was swarthy, his skin a darker hue, olive toned, with a thick swath of black hair held in braids down to his shoulders.

He was also blind. And by their milky hue, glassed over for years, he was no doubt either blinded early in his life or had been born that way, despite the fact that he seemed to be fixing the girl with a hard stare. As the Captain spoke, he only grunted and shook his head, moving forward to gross his bare forearms across the table. “I would not mind another cup, girl,” his voice boomed like thunder rolling across the sky with its deepness, but was mellow despite that.

At least she finally braved their table, her hands only trembling slightly as they filled both their cups with more heady mead. Local, she had said. Their farmers raised the bees themselves. Karrandin smiled up at her and dug a silver coin from his pouch, sliding it across the table to her. It earned him a shy smile as she pocketed it with a muttered thank you, but before she could turn away fully and retreat back to the kitchens, he held up his hand for her to stop.

“Have you heard any news, lass? We put out a work order just earlier today for any needing transport or an errand. Our rates are fair, as we have said…”

He trailed off as she shook her head. “Sorry, sirrah. I will check with my da for news from town and get back straightaway,” she promised, smiling more easily.

Karrandin sighed and sat back, but nodded so that she could truly return to her duties. The chair creaked underneath him as he sat back and pushed his booted foot against the leg of the table. He and him had overstayed their welcome in Alley’s Harbor for the time being -- a smuggler’s harbor, located in the underbelly of the larger kingdom just to the west called Vrelian. Small, but a prevalent trader’s outpost. Blacklisted as his company was from there, they were relying on smaller runs and miscellaneous services for the time being just to keep themselves stocked until a bigger pay day came along.

It was tedious work. But he was refusing to face the consequences of his actions elsewhere and while the company was still patient and comfortable with their current dilemma, here they were, peddling for small coins and delivery fees.

@Shiva the Cat

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Milady, are you sure you really want to do this?" the tall rider asked her companion as they approached the outskirts of the sleepy little hamlet of Herring Cove.

The young woman on the gray mare shot her friend a warning look in response. "I'm not going to tell you again, Zven. None of this 'milady' nonsense. If we're going to be dealing with people--ugh, like that." She gestured towards a pair of shifty looking fellows watching them from a bend in the road. "It's best if people just know me as another Guild alchemist from Rheintern. 'Iris' is fine."

"Well then, Iris," Zvenya replied drily, raising one thin eyebrow as she noticed their watchers suddenly scrambling to their feet, fear in their eyes as they tried to make themselves as small as possible. "If you're an alchemist, what does that make me?"

Without missing a beat, Iris merely waved her hand. "My assistant, naturally. You worry too much."

Right, an alchemist's assistant that stood almost six and a half feet tall, wearing leather armor and a broadsword, and who just happened to be green as a pea pod. Zvenya couldn't help but roll her black eyes in exasperation at her friend's dismissal of the matter. No one would ever believe someone with orc blood would be accepted at the Alchemist's Guild. Hells, she'd be lucky if the villagers up ahead weren't convinced she was in the middle of kidnapping the young noblewoman, when really it was the other way around.

If Iris and Zvenya hadn't grown up together, the latter wasn't even sure she would have agreed to this crazy scheme in the first place. Sailing across the ocean was nothing like taking the riverboat up the Vrel to visit the Guild headquarters in the northern city of Rheintern. Iris had made that journey dozens of times under Zvenya's watchful eye, and at least in the north people with green skin didn't stand out so much as they did closer to the sea. Ever since the war, there had been many half-orc orphans left to starve on the streets, usually the product of rape on both sides of the conflict. Zvenya was lucky; an old mercenary had taken pity on her and brought her to the estate of Count Zurion, where his husband (common-law naturally; the new queen's rules were liberal but they didn't go that far) the groundskeeper had helped raise the mixed-blood girl as their own daughter.

Count Zurion had five girls of his own, and while the oldest ones had avoided the half-orc either out of disgust or pity, the precocious fourth child, Iris, had taken to following around Zvenya day and night throughout their youth. Now at the ages of twenty-three and twenty-six respectively, their positions were somewhat reversed, albeit more out of necessity than choice on Zvenya's part. If it had been up to her, Iris would have stayed comfortably at home with her parents and little sister, or perhaps marry one of the neighboring nobles and start a family on some adjoining estate. Zvenya had learned a great deal about looking after the count's dwindling forests and hunting grounds, and she had no doubt she could have found work wherever her friend chose to finally settle down, orc blood or no.

But Iris had no intention of settling down, to the dismay of both her friend and her family. There wasn't a single man in their part of the county who could hold her interest in comparison to books and the arcane mysteries of the world, and even if there was, her father could no longer offer the kind of dowry a respectable man would expect. The count had not been prudent with his investments during the war, and over the past few years had been forced to sell off a few acres here and there, as well as some of the family's smaller country houses in farther off reaches of the kingdom. He'd tried to recover some of his financial losses by arranging good marriages for his first two daughters, but his first son-in-law had been quick to cut him off after the tenth request for a loan, and the second had squandered his own small fortune at the gambling tables in less than three years. Count Zurion might have made a good match for his third daughter, the fairest of all of them, but sadly young Rose had run off with a troupe of mummers at the age of nineteen and hadn't been heard from since.

Iris had helped to stabilize things somewhat when she was accepted to the Alchemist's Guild. An apt pupil with a voracious appetite for knowledge, she had taught herself the basics of alchemy from some old forgotten tomes in her father's library, and the rest she'd learned via correspondence instruction with the masters in Rheintern. In place of tuition, the young noblewoman had taken on occasional transcription requests for the Guild, eventually becoming such a master in the art that they began to send rather substantial stipends along with her assignments. By now, she was even crafting the occasional focus or demonstration item, and if she'd been born a commoner Iris would have said she was doing quite well for herself.

She wasn't a commoner though, and she had more than herself to think of. That was why she had decided to go to Savasinde, more than a thousand miles away across the sea. Iris would have been more than happy to make the journey on her own, but after she'd shared her plans with Zvenya, the half-orc had insisted upon joining her, for Iris' own safety. After all, a pretty young thing like the count's daughter, with her large violet eyes and soft waves of strawberry-blonde hair (not to mention a bosom that was the envy of the neighborhood) was practically asking for trouble by throwing herself onto the mercy of sailors and seamen. Of course, Zvenya might not have had much more experience of the world than the noblewoman had, but at least she had a frightening face and her father's sword, and a rather respectable record when it came to catching poachers and breaking up tavern brawls.

Truth be told the half-orc abhorred fighting, and all she knew of swords was what her papa had taught her in the yard behind their cabin at the edge of Count Zurion's woods. She'd never used it in a real fight before, and she was in no hurry to start now. Thankfully, no one the women had encountered so far had been keen to pick a fight with the mixed-blood girl, and Zvenya could only pray their luck would hold out. That was why she had suggested they inquire about passage at a small harbor like Herring Cove before heading to one of the larger ports like Alley's Harbor. True, the odds of actually finding a ship outfitted for an international voyage was nearly impossible, but perhaps if Iris was frustrated enough times she would eventually give up and go home.

The young noblewoman was undeterred though as they approached the nearly-empty docks, going from vessel to vessel asking which ships were bound for Savasinde in her politest tone, with the hulking Zvenya looming behind her. Sadly, those captains that had even heard of the island were bound nowhere near the place, and were quick to send the noblewoman on her way regardless of the coin in her hand. It was only when they came to the very last pier that an old man with a grizzled beard and missing leg looked more thoughtfully at them.

"Ye might try up at the tavern," he suggested, rubbing his chin as he looked at Zvenya with a gleam in his eye that was bewildering to the tall woman with her thin golden braids caught in the wind. "A crew of strangers put into port a little while ago. Not sure what their business is, but I don't think ye'll have any trouble managin' them, will ye lassie?" he added with a chuckle.

Zvenya blushed but Iris was unperturbed. "No, I shouldn't think so," she agreed, assuming his remarked had been made towards her. Gesturing for her companion to follow her, the young noblewoman led the way towards a lonely-looking building perched on a high cliff overlooking the harbor. She was a bit annoyed at not finding anyone ready to take their horses from them, and was surprised indeed to see there was no stable of the kind nearby, though there was a hitching rail at least. "It's cruelty to animals, leaving them out like this. These people really need to treat their mounts better. Horses are expensive, you know," she sighed as she dismounted, giving her mare an affectionate rub as the half-orc clumsily slid off the wide back of the draft horse--the only thing in the Count's stable that could bear someone with her frame.

The half-orc needed to duck through the door as well as she followed the petite young lady in her neat riding habit inside, and as soon as she cleared the threshold she could sense the eyes on her. Dropping her gaze, she hunched her shoulders and back a little, trying to seem as small as possible, but Iris, oblivious as ever, sauntered in with all the elegance of the queen herself.

It didn't take long for her to determine which party in the tavern stood out from the rest. Seated well away from the grizzled old men drinking their grog and playing their cards, her gaze fell upon a much younger pair chatting quietly among themselves. The redhead was rather good-looking, in a peasant-ish sort of way, but the other man, with his bizarrely pale skin and milky eyes, made the noblewoman pause in her approach. "How unusual..." she whispered, and only Zvenya, who was well acquainted with her friend's habit of speaking to herself, appeared to hear the words.

She had visibly tensed at the pair, noting the scar on the redhead's face and immediately scanning his body for any sign of a visible weapon. She too was unnerved by the other man, who almost seemed to be staring straight through her, and reaching forward Zvenya laid a callused hand on her friend's arm. "I don't think you should disturb them, Iris. I have a bad feeling..."

But that was enough to break the spell. Scoffing, Iris pushed the half-orc's hand off her shoulder. "Nonsense. They look like they've been a place or two. We must at least ask them." Continuing forward, the noblewoman didn't stop until she was directly in front of the men's table, at which point she brushed the dust off the broad skirt of her riding habit and offered them her finest curtsy.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she remarked, flashing her white teeth in what was supposed to be a dazzling smile, but which reminded Zvenya of a beast baring its teeth. "I am wondering if you might be the strangers we heard about in the harbor. You see my friend and I--" Here Iris gestured to the half-orc, whose undersized tusks were about as intimidating as rodent teeth as she flashed an awkward half-grin. "--are looking for a ship to take us to the Island of Savasinde. For professional reasons," Iris added coolly as she sat down in one of the empty chairs across the table, gesturing for Zvenya to join her.

"We can afford to pay a fair price for passage, and we aren't afraid to work our way across if necessary." Though the type of work Iris was familiar with, and what Zvenya was used to, were two very different things indeed.

"So, do you know anyone nearby who may be able to assist us?"

 

[Mien]

Karrandin did not like to refer to himself or his company as pirates, even though that was the common misconception when the typical onlooker looked upon he and his. Add in the ship and the assumption was that the ragtag bunch of individuals were terrors of the high sea, when they were anything but. There was no sport in flagging down hapless merchant vessels and boarding them with violence or the threat of; those were the true pirates. And while his company, himself included, cared a great deal about lining their pockets with coin, it was generally done through honest work.

Or at least as honest as they could get. There were king and queendoms and nations that frowned on their practices and how they achieved their means to an end, especially with his affiliations with the underbelly of polite society. The man with the tiger’s eye had a reputation. It had only been a matter of time before it had come to bite him in the arse and leave a lasting mark. And a reminder.

Do not tell the head of a Guildmaster to go fuck themselves, no matter how deserving that the remark had been. And he wasn’t about to run groveling back to kiss anyone’s feet and make apologies, though at least one of their company would prefer that he do so.

But Karrandin did not wish to grovel at the feet of a woman and for pettier reasons than his lack of an apology. No matter that he had lost the Guildmaster a large payday during his last run for them, and his refusal to make up costs had cost him his own membership and a blacklist across his name at most major harbors.

So when the two women - or rather, the orc and human - approached the table, both men broke apart from their heated conversation over whether or not they should cast their lines elsewhere for coin. Their presence halted the conversation for the time being, though the larger male looked disgruntled by the interruption judging by the almost feral scowl that transformed his face. One penetrating not-look from the man and he had folded his arms across his torso and turned his attention away while the thick braid of his dark hair fell half forward across his shoulder.

Karrandin, on the other hand, clapped his hand on the larger male’s shoulder and turned his full attention to the two. His single eye twinkled with warmth and he leaned forward instead of back, fingers steepled together on the table in front of him. Curiosity lanced through his features as his attention darted to the orc, taking in her mettle with steely eyed appreciation before his attention danced back down to the young woman, who, it would seem, was the speaker for this pair. He bared his teeth in what he hoped was a charmed smile, revealing two rows of white teeth -- a contradiction to the ascertained peasant-ish look he had been judged to be.

In fact, other the scar, the false eye, the somewhat rugged appearance, the finer details were often overlooked. The dark blue tunic he wore was well kept, the fabric soft and of good quality. It was the same with the breeches he wore. The belts and boots, too, were made of finer leather than expected, kept cleaned and polished to a shine. Attached to his hip was a scabbard that, while not ornate by any means, had an engraving of a double headed sea drake twined around itself, both its heads snapping at the other. The hilt of a rapier peeked from just over the lip of the table, but otherwise the man was largely unadorned.

His companion, while cruder in mannerisms and fashion, was more of a mystery. He wore charms in his hair of various metals and the occasional organic bit, such as a tooth or wood carving that were twined through the thick braids. Both his ears were also pierced through, one with a silver hook and the other with a small tusk, not unlike what the female orc herself had sticking from her mouth. His heavy leather jerkin was more worn to look at, padded by a pair of pelts, but left his muscular arms bare and a strip of chest, sprinkled with dark hair, visible to the eye. He wore two swords on either hip and they bumped against his thighs as he stretched his legs out beneath the table, stonily silent.

“A good evening to you as well, lass. ...Or is it m’lady?” Karrandin greeted the woman in turn, looking her over with interest before his sights landed back on her face, meeting her eyes with his one. “As it were, you do not have to look any further for a ship to transport you. We aren’t the type to ask any questions, so long as you can pay,” he began.

“I am Karrandin, my companion here is Dartanden of the Mukwa Clan,” he introduced himself and the other male, who, while no longer seeming to be looking in their direction, had his head canted in begrudging interest. Still, he made no move to speak. Karrandin slipped his hand across the table, offering it to the noblewoman with a smile. “We are able to negotiate your fare for this journey. Savasinde, you say? A far stretch out to sea…” His brow raised, the question clearly in his voice, but he was true to his word when he said that they did not ask questions that the deliverer did not want to answer themselves for the right price. “And a long journey for yourself and your companion…” he considered. “Coin will do. You will also be responsible for assisting the rest of my crew in meal preps and provisions, but we can offer you your own cabin aboard to allot you some privacy.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

One of the things Iris found most endearing about Zvenya (when she didn't find it extremely annoying) was the fact that despite the half-orc's intimidating face and prodigious strength, she always seems afraid of everyone. By contrast, the noblewoman rarely feared anyone, and almost never admitted to it if she did, and it gave her a certain sense of pride to know that in addition to her respectable intellect and breeding, she also had courage to back it all up.

As she stared at the man across the table from her though, Iris began to wonder if perhaps Zvenya hadn't been the wiser in this case. From across the room, the stranger had seemed pleasant enough, but up close she could see the scar on his face now, and his eye...glass? Or crystal? Either way, it unnerved her a little bit, and her folded hands on the table had tightened enough to turn her knuckles white and inject a little quiver of nervousness into her voice.

"I think 'Miss' will do well enough," she remarked, trying to keep up as much dignity as possible. It didn't seem prudent to let him know about her father's background--Count Zurion had an awful lot of debts after all, and Iris wouldn't have been totally surprised to learn if he owed money to the lowest beggar or the Queen herself, or anyone in between--but she wasn't about to let herself be treated like some foolish farmgirl. "My name is Iris...Brown." It was the the primary color of the room after all, and the first pseudonym that came to mind. "and this is my friend, Zvenya Forrester."

Beside her, the half-orc halfheartedly raised a hand in greeting, her black eyes drifting from the one sword on Karrandin's hip to the pair on Dartanden's. Unlike herself, the two men actually looked like they knew how to use a blade, whereas Zvenya typically relied on the threatening appearance of the enormous broadsword on her back more than her actual skill with it (and how Papa Zven had managed to wield it successfully during the war was still a mystery to her). Luckily, the one-eyed man seemed more interested in Iris' money than causing trouble for her, and the dark-haired man seemed completely uninterested in their conversation.

Something about this latter man resonated with the half-orc, bringing back half-remembered images of other people with bone piercings and charms in their hair. His braids too...was it just her, or were they not dissimilar from her own? Of course, she knew the style was common in the north, that was why Papa Zven had always fixed her hair that way, regardless of what Da had thought about them. Still though, even though he might not have been as scarred as Karrandin and he still had both eyes (though she suspected they might be sightless), Zvenya decided she did not care for Dartanden in the least.

Iris didn't notice, and had kept her focus on Karrandin, since he seemed like the leader of the pair. She was pleased to see he was amenable to taking on the journey, but she'd also learned from her father the dangers of accepting an offer too quickly. Besides, she couldn't afford to turn over all of their money. Zvenya barely had anything to her name, and while Iris had managed to save away a tidy sum of money from her Guild work, ioslite didn't come free. "I can pay you one hundred gold pieces today, and two hundred more when we reach Savasinde. Will that satisfy?" It would only leave one hundred more for the women to obtain their goal and arrange passage back, but that seemed more like a problem for the future, not today.

She was a little hesitant when it came to the idea of preparing meals for the crew; after all, the Zurions weren't so poor yet that they'd had to give up their cook. Thankfully though, Zvenya had some talent in the kitchen, having been the primary housekeeper for her parents since her young childhood. It wouldn't be anything fancy of course, but even Iris had to admit the half-orc knew how to roast a deer and make a decent stew, although her friend's skill with cakes and pastries did leave something to be desired. Anyway, Zvenya didn't seem opposed to the idea, or if she didn't she didn't speak it aloud, and that was good enough for Iris.

Something else did occur to trouble the young alchemist though. "We have horses outside," she said suddenly. "Would you be able to take them as well?" If not, she'd need to find someone to send them back to the Zurion estate, which meant more coin out of pocket if they didn't sell the mounts outright.

Despite the worry though, she straightened her back, looking Karrandin straight in his one good eye. Nothing was going to deter her at this point, not when they'd finally found a way forward.

 

[Mien]

Despite having only one eye, Karrandin noticed more than his face let on. He had been in the business of his particular craft long enough to note the woman’s guarded apprehension. It was warranted, he would give her that, on the basis of fierce appearances alone. He had to catch himself before his lips quirked into an amused grin at his own mental meanderings, but did no such to stop the roving assessment of his gaze.

Down to her hands first, where she clenched her hands so tight that her pale skin turned a ghastly white. They were soft hands, not worn and calloused like a farm girl’s would be. A merchant, perhaps? A magus or scholar? He could not see the tips of her fingers to see if they would be marred by her trade, but her finery suggested that she did not come from poverty, which meant that she could at least afford their most basic accommodations.

Something that he again did not blame her for. Being a woman, despite the orc woman that sat next to her, she had still approached a pair of men who, as far as appearances went, looked the very epitome of grisled rogue. No matter that he had even bathed today. Something that he could not remark upon for his companion.

“Fear not, Miss,” he obliged her with a soft smile. “I can see that you are nervous, but I can assure you that our appearances are just that, so you may be at ease. Nothing unseemly will come to you while in our company. Right, big guy?” He leaned in, nudging the larger man with the pointed part of his elbow.

Dartanden’s head turned and a scowl planted itself across his face at being jabbed. The paws of his hands wrapped around his pint and he drank before his mouth moved again, begrudgingly grunting his assent. “Of course,” the man rumbled, the brief words sounding more like a bear’s growl than it did a voice. Though that was perhaps the rasp of disuse, as Karrandin had always known him to be a creature of few words.

When he did speak, however, it was best to listen closely.

“Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Ms…. Brown,” he grinned, the eye with its tiger eye winked in her direction, like the false eye knew something of her secret. “And Ms. Forrester,” he added, nodding his head at the half orc, while also waging a mental debate on whether the woman was as strong as she looked.

He hesitated when she mentioned that the entirety of the trip would be three hundred gold piece, and he mentally did the math on how it would need to be split among the company itself as well as the crew that manned the ship. With this only being transport, he supposed that it was a fair amount, and they needed the job. Karrandin passed a hand across his bearded chin, then settled his fingers down on the table, drumming them thoughtfully as he looked her over again.

“Three hundred gold total,” he eventually agreed. “And a favor, for when we make the return journey. A favor or information, your pick.”

Then she mentioned the horses. Dartanden snorted, mirth briefly flitting across his rugged face, before setting again in a firm line. Karrandin rolled his shoulders, eyes narrowed in consideration. They had the room, he supposed, but the ship was not made for livestock or transport in its belly.

“We can accommodate the horses,” he started, receiving a raised eyebrow from the larger man, who still had not said more than his two words. “But you will have to provide for, groom, clean, and feed them yourself. And I would say add an additional expense for bringing them. My vessel is not so equipped to handle livestock or… a pair of horses, so we will need the appropriate supply to keep them. After that, it will be your responsibility to make sure that they are cared for.”

He thought that was reasonable. Picking up his drink, he titled his hand and downed the rest of it, then set it back down on the tabletop with a thump and a grin.

“So what do you say, lass? Do we have a deal? Transport - and only transport - to Savasinde?” He had implied earlier that it might be to and from, but that also had not been a part of their negotiation. Still, it might do them some good to spend time at a new, more far away port to vie for additional work.

“If yes, we can leave first thing on the morrow. Myself and the rest of the company are staying here until then before moving on, and I would hate for you to have to find a less reputable way to a place so far away, strong friend or no,” he said with an arched brow to the orc. Scraping his chair out from underneath him, he offered his hand again over the table, this time to seal the deal, as he brought himself to his feet.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"I'm not afraid of you," Iris shot back haughtily, despite the nervousness that still lingered in her hands. "I might be concerned that tradesmen like yourselves might try to take advantage of a pair of women traveling unaccompanied in the wide world, but I assure you that if you do try to cheat us, my friend here will make sure that you come to regret it." She flashed a sharp look towards Zvenya, who seemed as bewildered as a rabbit in a snare at first, but at the sound of her friend clearing her throat she quickly assumed what she hoped was an intimidating scowl and laid a hand clearly on the hilt of her sword.

Although the half-orc didn't feel particularly fierce in that moment, the expression must have been enough to satisfy the alchemist, who nodded firmly before looking back at the men. "But seeing as I'm a generous person, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume from here on out that you are honest sailors with enough honor to treat young ladies respectfully. I hope for your sake I'm not mistaken." The one-eyed man did speak nicely enough, she supposed, and Iris guessed he was the rascally younger son of some foreign noble or military man, possibly from a family not dissimilar from her own; too poor to purchase him a commission in a real navy and therefore leaving him to manage a private ship.

"What sort of a vessel do you sail?" the alchemist continued curiously, glancing out the nearest window at the harbor. To her eyes, the ships all moored there looked the same except for size. The Zurion estate was more than a week to the northwest, and the only boats Iris had ever seen before setting out on her journey had been the little river vessels that carried goods up and down the river. She'd been so fixated on the task at hand she'd barely had time to take in the sight of the ocean itself, and even now she might have let her eyes linger on the vast blue expanse if Zvenya hadn't elbowed her gently in the side, reminding her focus on the conversation.

“Three hundred gold total,” Karrandin had named as his price. “And a favor, for when we make the return journey. A favor or information, your pick.”

Iris and Zvenya exchanged a silent look. A "favor" indeed, the former scoffed. There were men at the Guild who had often asked her for "favors" and been denied with extreme prejudice, which was probably despite her natural talents and hard work she was still seeded among the lowest ranks of the Hall. Of course, there had also been Master Adolar who wouldn't have taken no for an answer even if Iris had spoken it...but no, this was neither the time nor place to be thinking of him.

"As long as that favor is not something that would be unreasonable for a respectable woman of good family to fulfill, I agree," the noblewoman replied. "Information I can provide at any time, as long as it isn't of a personal nature or does not violate another's trust in me. But I would ask that some consideration be given to the setting in which the information is provided." She glanced quickly around the room before locking eyes with Karrandin again, making it very clear that if he wanted to know more about her goals she would not be speaking about them here. It was hardly a secret of course; the great risk came in being written off as a madwoman before she even stepped onboard a ship, hence why she had no intention of sharing the details of her journey until they were well underway.

Her guarded expression immediately melted away into one of unbridled joy at the idea of bringing the horses along with them. Iris was particularly fond of Scarlet, and ever since they'd left home she'd been fretting at the idea of selling her to someone who might mistreat the pretty gray mare. She was less attached to Dovash, the big workhorse Zvenya rode, but she knew the half-orc loved him the way she loved all animals, and while she would have acceded to getting rid of him the noblewoman knew she would have been hurt by it.

"We can see to the horses ourselves," Iris agreed, knowing it would probably be Zvenya who did most of the work on them anyway. "And if our venture in Savasinde goes well, I see no reason why we shouldn't be able to provide an extra gratuity for their transport as well. If not..." Well, if the venture in Savasinde didn't go well, she would have more to worry about than the welfare of a couple of horses. "We'll find another arrangement."

And of course, if for some reason they couldn't obtain any ioslite, or if the experiment didn't work out as Iris was praying it would, she saw no point in even returning home. What would be waiting for her there, except indignant rage from her parents, humiliation from her colleagues, and perhaps some cranky old husband who needed a new wife to look after his brats? No, even if Savasinde was half as savage as she'd heard it was, the noblewoman would prefer to test her fortunes there than in Vrelian.

"Transport to Savasinde, for three hundred gold pieces total. That's carrying myself, Miss Forrester, our luggage, and our two mounts," she stated finally, laying out the terms of their arrangement as clear as possible. "Two hundred due to you upon embarkation, another hundred when we've reached the island. If we require your assistance on the return trip, we'll negotiate something at that time." She reached one of her small white hands out to him, trying to look as much like a serious businessman as her delicate features and heart-shaped face would allow.

Iris was a little concerned they wouldn't be able to set out until the morning, but she supposed it couldn't be help. "Very well," she answered, glancing towards her friend. "Zven, why don't you see if they can put us and the horses up for the night? And I wouldn't mind a spot of tea and something to eat."

Zvenya hesitated, not wanting to leave her friend alone with the two men, but she also knew better than to contradict a noble's order in a situation like this. Taking care to keep a close eye on Iris, she went off in search of the innkeeper, flagging down a passing barmaid and slipping her a copper to keep a particular eye on their table, and requesting her to come fetch the tall green woman in case of trouble. The poor serving girl would have done it even without the coin, lest she risk running the wrath of someone with such obvious orc blood, and making a beeline for the table, she was quick to ask the party if they wanted anything else for the moment.

After ordering tea, bread, and soup for herself and Zvenya, Iris turned back towards the others. "So, business aside," she continued, relaxing her posture somewhat. "May I ask where the two of you come from? Your names are quite unusual." Not to mention that the Dartanden had a much darker coloring than she'd ever seen in her own part of the world, and his garments looked almost primitive when compared to Karrandin's well-made, if slightly garish, clothing.

 

[Mien]

She was a prissy thing, this Iris ...Brown. Karrandin was not convinced for one second that her surname was so generic; she looked too upright to be a commoner, and her poor companion was being treated as little more than a servant than a friend or companion. So, the orc was either loyal muscle or some sort of handmaiden to this woman, something that he was yet to determine, but now had it stowed away in the back of his mind to figure the girl out like it was some sort of game.

While his one eye sparkled with mirth and his other sparkled from the lamplight throughout the inn, he flashed a grin that edged on innocence, but came across as more roguish than anything he had shot her before. The bisected brow shot up, giving him a mischievous look, like a red haired imp. “And if we were the kind of tradesmen who would take advantage of a benign and chaste little lady such as yourself and your rather imposing friend, how would we go about doing that?”

It wasn’t quite a leer, but it could have been. The fact that Dartanden grunted in his direction and shoved his elbow into Karrandin’s ribs warned the Captain that coin had not changed hands just yet, so acting the lecherous brethren was not something that he should be doing until they had at least the first half and the woman had no choice but to tolerate him and his antics on their voyage to be.

But he had left out the free entertainment - for him anyhow - off their bargain. She just seemed like the sort to squirm easy given the right motivation.

Clearing his throat, he shot Dartanden a look, but the other male was looking off into the distance, as if he were searching for something. He knew that look, though. The man was paying more attention than any of them, despite his lack of sight; sometimes, he saw more than any of them combined and his ginger soul respected him all the more for it.

“Dartanden here will make sure that I stay honest. He may look like a brute and he’s not a very good conversationalist, but his clan followed a very strict code of conduct. No thievery of … anything aboard the Tiger’s Eye,” he swore, but the grin remained.

“Our vessel, as I mentioned, is called The Tiger’s Eye. Call it something of my personal pride,” he continued, one finger lifting to tap the side of his eye where the tiger’s eye jewel glinted just under his lid. “I figured that I owed it to myself to trade my eye for a decent vessel, since my old one was lost on the very same mission that lost me the eye. But it gives me character, no?” He teased her still, flashing an even more ferocious grin. It could have been a trick of the light, but the eye seemed to narrow that the dark line in its golden center was, indeed, a cat’s iris. “It’s a cursed eye, see.”

To his side, Dartanden turned halfway to face him frowning, “Do not do that,” came the gravelly voice that sounded like it should have belonged to a mountain instead of a man.

Karrandin only continued to grin, then winked, using the same cursed eye he spoke of. “My friend here is very superstitious. It is harmless, the eye,” he mused. But, oh, the lie did sound nice rolling off the tongue. It even deepened Dartanden’s frown, his dark head shaking before he sighed and turned away again. The other man ignored him and turned his sights on the window overlooking the setting sun on the sea, squinting.

“We are at the very end of the pier on the wharf. One of the larger ships, there…” It was the largest, though, for the sleepy wharf. Where a majority of what lined the pier were small fishing vessels and some trade ships, his was the only made to sail greater distances across the ocean that loomed out beyond the bay.

“You can also rest assured that if I were in need of something that a respectable young woman such as yourself was unable to give, I have already found it elsewhere,” he countered her with a gentler, albeit coy, smile as his eyes slid over her to eye their reluctant barmaid. “I never understood the custom of suppressing natural desires,” he murmured, musing to himself, before training his stare back on her again to see if she would react. “Let me guess. You think that I would be uncouth and ask you to join me in my cabin through the duration of this journey as a favor. Let me also guess that you are a virgin, waiting until you are wed, like a proper lady.”

Dartanden, for his part in this conversation, finally raised himself up to a fully seated position in his seat and turned a dour stare to the captain. His hand that was more like a paw grabbed the other man’s arm, his head shaking, “Don’t be impolite for jollies, Marnier.”

Seeing the other man sober up from his inappropriate jesting, he settled back down in his seat, arms folding across his torso. Much like a chaperone to the younger man, regardless of if one called himself Captain.

Something flickered over Karrandin’s face as he settled himself back down, the joking pushed aside from the time being. Not that he was going soft, but he did paw at the beard growing on his face that matched the fire in his hair as he considered the woman, “If you cannot manage transport back, there are other ways that you can repay the return journey that will not jeopardize your morals. You have skills, I am assuming? You can help aboard the ship.”

They needed gold, not extra hands to feed; he was not sure why he even offered, but the words rolled off his tongue without thought, and Dartanden did not even remark on it. So that meant he had offered something of worth and was not taking on a charity case -- or so he would like to think. Watching the orc woman and leave them alone with the Ms. Priss, Karrandin realized then that they were stuck at their table for longer.

And she wanted to talk. About him. Karrandin grinned at the prospect, but also hesitated. Not unlike his companion, he preferred not to speak of any truth about himself except for what followed him and his reputation. It was one of the reasons why he did not bother to delve into the personal lives of those that boarded his vessel.

“I come from all over, of course, Ms. Brown. Anything before that would only bore you, I promise. I prefer to see the entire world as where I come from and where I’ll remain until I retire to some bungalow on the farthest reaches in the tropics somewhere. But you … I take it that you have traveled here yourself, but are more native than we are, Ms. Brown…?”

Dartanden cocked his head curiously, his head moving in the direction of the woman, his milky glazed stare seeming to see her regardless, “Mount Na-hok… long ago, and so it is no more.”

Karrandin leaned forward after glancing over at his companion, as if he had some great secret to tell, “That is the most that he has spoken in years, I swear it. He must like you.”

But then the woman’s food was arriving and, despite the fact that he was becoming antsy and wished to check in on the rest of their party as well as the crew before he retired for the evening, he also did not mind relaxing for the time being.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Although she would never admit it, Iris was beginning to have second thoughts about this arrangement. It was bad enough Karrandin felt it necessary to point out his false eye every three minutes (which was a shame, because the alchemist had figured out that by watching his sensuous, mobile mouth instead she really could trick her mind into thinking his face was entirely handsome), but he even felt the nerve to bring up her bodily purity! It was only through the chastising from Karrandin's own man and a sharp, warning gaze from Iris to Zvenya that blood hadn't been spilled right then and there, and the noblewoman was starting to think that the captain of the Tiger's Eye was going to be more trouble than he was worth.

Then again, what were the odds they'd be able to find another vessel willing to take them all the way to Savasinde for only three hundred gold? And would they find one before her parents caught on to the fact that she hadn't really gone to Reichtern and came looking for her? Iris knew it was going to cause a scandal back home as soon as she was discovered to be missing, but she'd hoped to at least be on a ship by then and on her way to achieving her ultimate goal. If she didn't make a quick enough escape from Vrelian, no doubt her father would drag her back home and do all the things to her he'd sworn he would do to her disgraced sister Rose if he ever got his hands on her. Then Iris could forget all about her alchemical career and her freedom.

So she took a few deep breaths, forced another smile, and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm sure we will come to some agreement if the situation arises," Iris stated, doubting the crew could have had any use for her skills in study and translation, or that the ship would have been outfitted with the kind of laboratory she required to conduct her more productive experiments. But surely Zvenya wouldn't mind pitching in an extra hand or two, considering she was coming along at almost no expense to herself.

Zvenya herself might have argued, if she was of a more combative sentiment, that she was paying a very heavy expense indeed when it came to her patience and her dignity. Most of the employees of the tavern had given her a wide berth as she'd made her way to the front desk, and she'd had to wait several minutes before a grizzled old beldame, apparently the matriarch of the establishment, had finally hobbled up to her on a heavy cane to ask if she needed something.

"A room for the evening," the half-orc muttered, recognizing the suspicious look in the woman's eyes. "And stabling for two horses."

"We haven't got any stables," the old woman remarked, leaning out the window and half-expecting to see a pair of dire wolves tied to her hitching post. "It'll be a warm night though, and I can have some fodder sent over from Mr. Finnegan's farm. Will that suffice?"

The tall woman hesitated, wishing she could have given Dovash a roof over his head and a nice bed of straw to sleep in. "You'll pay us for them if they get stolen?"

"Pay you?" the woman barked out a laugh. "Certainly, I've got a copper or two to spare!" The mirth immediately died on her lips as Zvenya's mouth twisted into a snarl, and after awkwardly clearing her throat and opening a ledger. "Nothing will happen to your horses, mam. This is a nice, safe town, they'll be perfectly fine. Now for the room--" she named the price, followed by an awkward request for payment up front. "It's policy for those we don't know."

"Policy, hm?" Zvenya answered, not believing her for a moment as she reached into the inner pocket of her cloak. Iris had trusted the larger woman with the bulk of their money, and trusted her to know the reasonable prices for their expenses along the way. She might have tried to argue for a lower bill (especially once she saw the room later on) but the last thing she needed at the moment was a bar fight with her at the center.

Back at the table, Iris was sipping her tea and looking on her companions with new interest, particularly Dartanden. "Mount Na-hok," she repeated, matching his pronunciation identically. "Forgive me, but I don't think I'm familiar with it. I've studied a great deal of maps, but I don't recall seeing any mountains by that name. Is it north of here?" She did know that there was a prodigious mountain range beyond the northern border of her homeland--the Corogough Range--and Iris even suspected those very mountains might have been the place of Zvenya's birth during the war. She'd never been close enough to see them as anything more than a shadowy gray blur on the horizon though, and only then from the very tallest tower of the Guildhall.

She was about to press Dartanden with further questions when Zvenya suddenly reappeared, pressing a heavy hand on Iris' shoulder. "I've gotten us a room for the night, but they don't have a stable. We'll need to take the saddles and things up ourselves," the half-orc explained, utterly ignoring the men at the table.

"Oh bother," Iris sighed, then looked thoughtfully towards Karrandin and Dartanden. "I don't suppose the two of you would--"

Zvenya cut her off immediately. "I can carry it myself, but I'll need your help with the doors, milad--miss. Iris." She blushed a little at the angry glare on her friend's face, but it seemed to do the trick of getting her away from the table. Pressing a key into the smaller woman's hand, the half-orc inclined her head in farewell to the men, then practically ran out the door. Iris meanwhile offered them both an apologetic curtsy.

"I suppose we'll meet in the morning then? Shall we come down to the docks, or meet you here? And when do you intend to set sail? Not too early I hope. We've had a rather long ride today and could do with a rest," she confided with a small smile, even though something in the men's faces told her that was going to be unlikely. "Well anyway, let us know where to be and we'll be there. With our payment," Iris added, just in case the sailors might change their minds in the night.

 

[Mien]

While his new charge was worrying on whether she had just made a mistake, Karrandin was feeling pleased, if not a little smug, at the lady’s discomfort. He had caught onto the signs by now to know that she had been raised by proper means and if he had to guess, was the epitome of entitlement. Perhaps not a full fledged lady, certainly not anything that would follow the royal lineage, but a proper lady of some sort. Perhaps a younger or middle child that had more freedoms, or else he was sure that he would not be taking the women across such distances if she were closely coveted by her family.

Just the way she spoke with her companion shone the obvious light that the orc was her servant, perhaps even slave. And while Karrandin was skeptical of the more savage races - his companion seated next to him aside - he was at least tolerant of the more far fetched kind mingling among humans as the orc was; there were still biases to be had, even though the wars between humans and monsters had allegedly ended a long while ago.

His lips twitched when she commented that an arrangement could be made, his eye(s) wandering across the fair skin of her face and lingered on her sweet rosebud of a mouth. For a priss, she was a pretty priss, and while Karrandin had her under his protection while she traveled with their company, he could wonder. And try. However, rather than make any sort of lecherous remark on ways they could come to an agreement, he instead tossed in a casual aside, “Do you prefer to swab decks or clean the chamber pots and privy?”

Dartanden, unamused, had turned to glower at the redhead who smiled smugly at the young woman. Though his expression, to this point, had remained dour and unmoving as stone except for the subtle shift in his facade. “We should retire and check on the rest,” the larger man rumbled, brows both furrowing and arching at once, somehow.

“Ah, the rest!” He was still smiling at Iris, but the smile stretched into a beaming grin. “You will like them, I think. We have another lass aboard by the name of Esme. But ah… she will not share your same sensibilities, I think. Esme is our - er - shall I say - healer and apothecary. She also likes to … experiment with herbs in a potent way, so I would advise that you do not try any concoction she hands you.

Then we have Loryn, who I suspect you may also like. They are a whimsical lot, elvish, appreciates nature and fancy dresses a bit much, but has a pleasant singing voice nevertheless. They help guide our ships, especially when the breeze cannot for us or the tides are not in our favor. It helps to have them on board through storms as well.

Jakub is the last of our usual company and him I would not mind so much. He’s an old lech, a bit crude for a lady, but I promise he does not mean any arm if he plays a little grab ass. He handles the rest of the crew and manages the ship in whole. I would not get him started on any tales, though … he’ll exaggerate if it means he might have a chance to bed a lovely lady such as yourself.”

Karrandin winked for good measure. Just to draw out the fact that, yes, he had a scar on one side of his face. At this point, it was more to see if she would squirm than any of his usual narcissism about it. Though his expression did slump when the woman’s curious eye wandered over to his companion with more interest, only to lift again with a fox’s sly interest when the big man looked uncomfortable that he was being posed a question directly. Or was the focus of any kind of attention.

“Far from here, way up in the mountains to the north. It would not be on this continent, but on Meridan. No outsiders allowed unless a trade has been opened,” he replied to Iris, begrudgingly, and his shoulders slumped in relief when the orc returned with news to attract the attention of the woman away from him again. Only he frowned at the anger that was coming off the woman at Zvenya’s news.

Karrandin watched this exchange with a different sort of interest, thinking that the entitlement of the woman was further indication of her privilege. His eye(s) slid to the orc with a grimacing smile, “The two of you do not have much luggage, do you? I am afraid the cabins are not very large…”

He watched as the orc hurried away again, taking this as his excuse to rise up from his seat, hand touching Dartanden’s shoulder to indicate that he could rise too. While Karrandin was by no means a short man, he still was inches below the frame of the other man that rose up. And where lean muscle bunched under his tunic and was accentuated in the tightness of his breeches, Dartanden’s arms and chest were roped with thick muscle, and he bore the heft of a warrior in his stance. Even still, as intimidating as his presence might have been, it seemed that he was in close authority with the younger man; a more calming force than the ginger.

Out went Karrandin’s hand as he bobbed his head at the young woman, “Yes, the morning. Meet back here in the tavern when the sun is at its noon time peak. We shall have a quick meal, then set sail. It will give us time to make sure all supplies are in order for the long voyage. Ms. Brown, it has been an interesting pleasure to meet your acquaintance, and we appreciate your business.”

Whether she took his hand to shake or not, he was lifting his head away from her to catch the eye of the barmaid that had been serving them. He tossed a few coins for the girl as a tip, but caught her arm as she scooped it up with a pleasant smile. Pulling her in close, he put his mouth close to the shell of her ear and whispered something indiscernible. Whatever it had been, she blushed red and tossed a shy smile in his direction with a curtsy in his direction before moving away.

“Until the morrow, lady,” he murmured, shifting back to Iris with his own mocking bow. Then he touched Dartanden’s shoulder again and stepped away from the table, moving to the door. The big man nodded at her as well, then moved to follow.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"An apothecary!" Iris cried with fresh, genuine excitement, flickering light filling her soft purple eyes. "And an elf! Why, Mister Karrandin, you must have quite the extraordinary vessel indeed to attract such talent." While she was aware that many apothecaries were no more than old country women practicing common garden 'magic' which could be attributed to luck as much as anything else, she had read more serious books on the subject at the Guild's library, and even knew of a few alchemists who often practiced both sciences in the hopes of curing disease or even finding new ways to prevent them. Iris held such respect for those particular individuals she couldn't help but assume this mysterious Esme was of a similar mindset. After all, what better way to travel the world learning and obtaining new experimental material than by working on a ship?

And the idea of meeting an elf was even more thrilling. Elves were far from common in that part of the world, although one of the alchemists in Rheintern claimed to have an elven grandmother someplace on the far side of the world. He'd been an astoundingly handsome man, but rather arrogant for Iris' taste, although that was most likely due to his human upbringing rather than any questionable elven heritage he might possess. She was inclined to take Karrandin's word when he mentioned his elf had a singing voice that could somehow aid in the sailing of the ship. Of course there was plenty of argument among the Guild whether elves possessed preternatural gifts or whether they were just very astute learners and observers of the world due to their long lifespans, but what better way for Iris to decide than by observing one herself for an extended period of time?

Iris was so lost in thoughts of both of these individuals that she was completely oblivious to Karrandin's warning about Jakub. She didn't even notice how the one-eyed sailor was trying to unnerve her again with that unpleasant leer of his. Only Dartanden's explanation of his homeland was enough to grasp her attention again, albeit momentarily as she began to wonder how all of these strange people had managed to come together. At least Zvenya will fit right in she thought with a wry grin as they left the table, completely missing the comment about luggage.

The half-orc was hardly as dreamy as her friend, and when she saw Iris was lost in another one of her fugues again, she let out a gruff little grunt and glanced sideways at the one-eyed man. "We have what we can carry on our backs and in our horses' saddlebags. Nothing else," she assured, not feeling it was necessary to mention that all but her own pack contained the noblewoman's belongings: spare clothes, books, writing implements, and a few of her strange alchemical little knick-knacks and portable equipment whose use Zvenya couldn't even begin to fathom.

Only one thing made the half-orc pause on her way out the door. As she saw the two men standing side by side, it occurred to her that the pale one was actually taller than she was, and it made Zvenya's pale green cheeks turn slightly pink with surprise. Ever since the age of twelve she'd towered over her farm laborer Da, and by fourteen she was even taller that Papa Zven and his warrior's build. Dartanden was built the same way, Zvenya realized, albeit she guess Papa was probably closer to Karrandin's height. Her heart clenched a little at the thought of both of them, knowing by now they must have found the letter she'd left for them about taking a new position across the river. They'd never believe it of course, and once they realized Iris was missing as well she was sure they would put two and two together, but she hoped that even though they might miss her at least they wouldn't worry about her.

She could hardly afford to let these two know she harbored such tender thoughts, however. No, she knew their type. As soon as they realized Zvenya was about as dangerous as a stuffed and mounted bear, they'd be all over Iris, who would be too stupid or distracted to fend them off on her own. So the half-orc merely scowled at the pair as she went out to undo the saddles and luggage, glancing regularly over her shoulder as she walked.

Iris meanwhile only smiled in relief that there would be no need for an early rising. "That sounds quite agreeable, Mister Karrandin," she replied with a light shake of the hand. It wasn't a common gesture among the noble class, but her fellow alchemists often greeted one another with such informal congeniality. She was even beginning to think better of the one-eyed man until she saw him approaching the barmaid and whisper something in her ear that made the poor girl turn red as a strawberry. Ugh...never mind she told herself, squinting her eyes and nodding much more stiffly at the ginger's departure.

The alchemist was pleased to see Zvenya return a moment later, laden heavy as a workhorse but her back still straight, while Zvenya herself was happy to see the men had finally gone. They found the way up to their room with little trouble, and not wanting to risk another encounter with the pair of sailors, Iris stopped a servant in the hall to see if they could have supper sent to their quarters. The room itself was comfortable, with a cheery window looking out on the sea, although it was sparsely furnished and rather on the small side. The bed might have been big enough to sleep two if one of them hadn't been well over six feet tall and broad as a house, but for her own comfort as well as Iris' the half-orc insisted on sleeping on the rug before the fire. At least there were plenty of blankets and pillows to go around.

"So what do you think of our new compatriots, Zven?" Iris asked as they ate their dinner on rickety chairs beside a table that looked like it might collapse before a strong breath. "Quite interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"I think the little one's a sneak, and the big one's as likely to wring your neck for the thrill of it as not," Zvenya grumbled in return, taking a savage bite of chicken. "And I shudder to think what the rest of their sorry crew is like."

"Oh no! Mister Karrandin told me about them, they're all quite extraordinary themselves," the noblewoman insisted, giving her a quick recap of what the one-eyed man had told her. After a thoughtful sip of tea, she did give one small nod of acknowledgement towards her friend. "I agree with you though, I think Mister Karrandin does not have the best interest of ladies at heart. But he doesn't strike me as the type of person to force a woman against her will. I think anyone enough sense and fortitude of morals should have no trouble dealing with him."

Zvenya's dead black eyes fixated on her, making Iris blush. "What? Do you think I can't? Come now, Zven, you know I'm perfectly capable of--"

"Master Adolar?"

"That was a one-time exception!"

"Is that what you told his wife?"

"Oh! You're impossible!"

There was a twinge of annoyance in the argument, but no real malice. Indeed, within moments the women were laughing together about something else, and a short time later they'd set the empty dishes out in the hall for collection and were preparing for bed. "And if you wake me before the sun does, Mistress Forrester, I shall leave you on the shore behind me," Iris insisted as she snuggled down into the covers.

"I'd like to see you try, milady," Zvenya yawned in response, turning her face towards the fire as she rolled over on the rug.

As usual, the work-trained half-orc woke early, but this time at least she was content to let her friend sleep longer. Instead she went downstairs to check on the horses, and was relieved to find they'd both passed the night quite comfortably tethered to a tree beside the inn. After she was sure they'd been fed and watered, Zvenya indulged in a walk down to the docks to inspect the vessel that was set to carry them across the vast sea to an island that had only ever seemed to her to exist in books. The green woman barely knew anything more about boat than Iris did, but this one did seem seaworthy enough, even though there was no sign of her crew about at his early hour. Well, if they've all thrown themselves overboard in the night, that wouldn't be the worst she told herself, then turned back towards the inn as the morning began to grow warmer.

Iris was just waking when she returned to the room, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray (it had seemed such a waste to make the poor, sleepy-looking barmaid carry it upstairs for them). "Good morning, milady," Zvenya replied with extra cheer, purely because she knew it would annoy the alchemist and rouse her all the quicker. "Breakfast's on. I suggest you eat a bite, then we repack the bags and make ready for the docks. Unless...you've changed your mind?"

"Oh shut up. And no, I haven't," the noblewoman grumbled, her strawberry-blonde locks tumbling over her face in tangles. It took a bit of time, but the pair managed to fill their bellies, change their clothes (well, Iris did; Zvenya only had the one shirt, pair of trousers, and cloak), and adjust their luggage. There was no point in loading the horses down with bags again since they would be going into a hold so soon, so as the pair waited in front of the tavern just before noon, it was with the half-orc carrying all but Iris' small pack on her back and the horses' reins in hand, while the noblewoman paced back and forth slowly in a neat dusty-pink riding habit and fresh blouse, her hair combed and pulled away from her face with a matching ribbon as she watched impatiently for the sailors.

 

[Mien]

By the gods, the woman was shrill. Karrandin regretted telling the woman in advance about the company who she would be spending time with as she gushed in her high pitched voice loud enough to startle both men into flabbergasted stares. Well, one stare and another who simply presented his face in her general direction, lips twisted into a ferocious scowl as he listened to her carry on. It was a look that said more than he would ever say, Would it be appropriate to gag and throw her in the cargo hold for the duration of the trip?

Where Dartanden looked more annoyed, Karrandin had a look that was a mix between shock and amused interest. “And I cannot wait for you to meet them,” he grinned, hoping that she wouldn’t catch the surly hitch in his voice in her excitement.

Esme might try to murder her in the middle of the night and Loryn may very well throw her in a closet and pretend to forget about her if she harped so much at them. Mentally, the redhead rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then wondered if his devious intentions were a result of his ill upbringing.

Dartanden harbored no such thoughts, but had turned his attention to the half-orc again, once more his milky stare seemed to pierce right through into the veil of her thoughts. Her lips moved like he might speak and some of his scowl died down as he considered. Then finally, he only uttered in his gravel voice, “We do not have real accommodations for the horses. Be very sure you are able to tend to them,” he reiterated what had earlier been discussed, then decided that he’d had enough of their chit chat. Without another word, the large man shuffled away from the table and passed the orc, bringing with him the smell of the forest and the leathers that adorned his body.

One hand clapped down on her shoulder, surprisingly gentle, and he murmured in his passing, “Do not be so tense. The two of you are safe.” He was still not one for elaboration on his comment. Releasing his hand, he moved past them and to the stairwell, disappearing with a thump of his feet to allegedly retreat to a room.

Karrandin was still grinning at the young woman as she shook his hand, his own grip firm, calloused. Teasingly, the rough callous of his thumb slid over the backs of her knuckles before he released her hand in full. He bowed after, though it was hard to tell if it was in mockery of her own curtsies or if he was showing a genuine sign of respect. From the way he had been acting - no doubt it was the latter, but his ducked head hid the mischief of it well enough. Then he, too, was moving away. Only his lighter tread carried him out the door and through the night, back to The Tiger’s Eye to check on the majority of the crew that would be bunkering down with Jakub to check on supplies. The company, he knew, would be staying at the inn, relishing in the comfort of a bed instead of the ship’s bunks and cots.


~~~


The morning brought the scream of gulls circling high in the sky and a bright sun with only a handful of meandering clouds wafting in the clear blue sky. The shouts of men ran up and down the wharf as fishermen set sail for the day, mingling with the chime of women who manned shops along the stretch of pier that led to the docks. At the end, the Tiger’s Eyes sails were stretching in the new day, gently wafting as stout men in sailor’s garb bustled about on deck to prepare to set sail for the day. An old man, one Jakub Morrisky, puffed a pipe full of tobacco in between shouting orders to the lads that hauled aboard crates and barrels and the occasional sack of supplies that they would need to begin their journey. He alone was put in charge of manning the menfolk who made sure that the ship ran its course through the waters ahead, and some might even wager that the old fuck had once been one who had ravaged the seas in his youth, though now he only had his grit and spirit left to manage the crew.

It was enough.

He used a club to smack one of the scrawnier lads who dawdled behind, struggling with the load he carried on his back, while simultaneously barking and chortling at his own actions, “Pick it up, lad! Build up some muscle, you scrawny little fuck!” Just as he turned his head and spit brown into the murky waters below.

Standing high on the bow of the ship a more elegant figure stood, eyes cast to the horizon, and seemingly oblivious to the cacophony of noise occurring below them. Wisps of pale hair, hoarfrost and fine as spidersilk, blew in the breeze and fell over a pair of shoulders that were just short of being broad despite the tall, willowy frame they set upon. And while there was a cut jawed hardness to the angular face that canted up to the sun’s rays, the face was also effeminate in nature. A full mouth, long lashes, both lips and lids colored pink to better complement the paleness of their features.Their ears could be seen poking from the toss of hair, elongates, pointed at the tips, indicating that this was the elf Loryn that Karrandin had spoken about. Beautiful and aloof. Their hands were tucked into the sleeves of the long robes the figure wore - silk and fine, almost dragging over the figure’s feet that were hidden. White, like their hair, with flower blooms adding a splash of blue and pink color to the adornment.

Ready to escort the women to the ship outside the inn was the ginger Captain, devoid now of his companion from the night before. Dartanden, no doubt, was already aboard, along with the rest of the company. The Captain himself had stayed behind to ensure that their two guests would be escorted.

And, of course, to make sure that payment was passed into his hand before they would be allowed on the ship, though the man had made sure that the rest of the crew were at least made aware of their presence the night before. And to be on their best behavior -- if at all possible.

He grinned at them as he caught sight of the prissy lass and the orcish servant toting bags and horses, “Master Jakub is none too thrilled with me for allowing the horses, but I assured him that they would not be under his charge, but yours,” he commented, perhaps a little sheepishly after all.

“But other than that, the rest of the crew and company are excited that we have travelers joining us aboard and -- better -- a land to go and see. No doubt, they are looking at this as an excursion for them as well as yourselves.” He paused, stepping in closer, and offered a hand out to the half-orc. “Ah, do you need some assistance carrying some of… this?”

By the gods, the women had a lot of luggage, though he could judge just from the dynamic that it was Ms. Brown that had the majority.

“Shall we?” he asked, once he was sure that they could carry everything the ways down the wharf and across the pier.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Now that she was awake and fed, Iris could feel the thrill of the unknown beginning to course through her veins, and she was about to set out for the docks herself when Karrandin finally appeared, his crystal eye shining brilliantly in the sunlight. It was almost beautiful under the full light of day, although the scars did detract from his face somewhat. Still, she offered him the politest smile she could muster, and even went so far as to offer him a shallow curtsy in greeting. "Good morning, Mister Karrandin," she replied cheerfully. "I imagine Mister Dartanden has gone ahead to help ready our arrival?" Though she wouldn't have been entirely troubled if the large man with the strange eyes decided to remain in Herring Cove indefinitely. "What is his role on the ship, anyway? Does he steer it?"

Grunting a little as she shifted the weight of a bag over her shoulders, Zvenya rolled her eyes. "I'm sure we'll learn who does what once we're on the ship, mil-Iris. But I'd rather not keep poor Dovash and Scarlet standing still under this sun," she pointed out. She tilted her head suspiciously at Karrandin's remark about "Master Jakub" and his opinion of equines, and was glad she still had control over the money, for now at least. The way Iris was practically bouncing around like she was expecting a birthday present made her nervous that the noblewoman would decide at the last minute to abandon the poor beasts, which the half-orc absolutely would not stand for.

"Have any of your people been to Savasinde before?" the alchemist continued, falling into step beside the sailor. "I must admit all I know of the place is what I've read in books, and some of it simply seems too impossible to be real. I rather like the idea of an island being run by a council of women, of course," Iris added with a giggle. "But people there don't really keep dragons as pets, do they? And carnivorous trees? I mean, of course there are smaller insect-eating plants in the southern jungles, but trees?"

A little smile quirked at the corners of Zvenya's mouth as Iris' sweet voice began to barrage Karrandin's ears with her never-ending river of thoughts and opinions, and while it might have been disloyal there was a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing the half-orc wouldn't be the only person subject to the alchemist's ramblings for the foreseeable future. It was pleasing enough that she even shook her head at Karrandin's offer to take some of the bags himself, no doubt to give himself something to focus on besides Iris' voice. "No thank you, I'm quite capable of managing," Zvenya replied, tossing her braids over her shoulder and tightening her grip on the reins.

She did need to set a few things down though when they finally reached the dock. Dovash was willing to go wherever the half-orc led him, but Scarlet, proud as her mistress and ten times more high-strung, would have nothing to do with the wooden pier and even less to do with the gangplank leading up onto the ship. Of course, Iris barely seemed to notice this, and would have scrambled headlong onto the ship if the expression on Karrandin's face hadn't reminded her of the subject of payment. "Oh...we should probably settle the matter of payment before we get settled in, shouldn't we?" she laughed softly, looking over her shoulder towards Zvenya, who was dragging the mare towards the boat one inch at a time. "Zven, do you have the money?"

"One...moment!" she grunted, cursing under her breath as Scarlet whinnied in rebellion. After a bit of struggle, she did manage to fish the purse out of her pocket and toss it towards her friend, who caught it with surprising finesse then turned back towards the ginger.

"Do you mind if we count it out together on deck? I think a desk would be suitable," Iris paused as a thought occurred to her. "I suppose Zvenya ought to be there as well, otherwise I'll never hear the end of it. She's a bit distrustful with strangers, as I'm sure you noticed." Letting out a little sigh, she approached the half-orc and reached for Scarlet's reins. Almost immediately the horse quieted, and with barely another sound beyond a few annoyed snorts began to follow her mistress up on the deck of the ship. Zvenya only scowled at their backs, and then at Karrandin (more out of embarrassment than anything else), before picking up the bags again and leading Dovash after them.

Up on deck, the first thing the women noticed was a scowling bearded man with a vocabulary that would have made Papa Zven proud. He hardly looked happy to see them, and for a moment Zvenya thought he was about to pick Iris up by the shoulders and throw her overboard when she asked him where she ought to lead the horses. The half-orc might have stepped in on Iris' behalf if her eyes hadn't been caught by a stunningly beautiful figure near the rail. She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, and after only a breath Zvenya decided it didn't matter. Everything from their elegant figure to the richness of their robe to the pointed ears poking out from long hair the color of moonlight was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

The half-orc wasn't the only person who had noticed the figure though. As soon as Iris spotted the elf, she could recognize them for what they were, and dropping poor Scarlet's reins yet again, she immediately made a beeline for the white-haired beauty's side.

"Oh my goodness, you must be Loryn!" Iris gasped, pausing in front of them as she realized she had now idea how to address the elf, or whether she should curtsy or hold out a hand. Thinking quickly, she decided a quick bow of the head would be enough, then looked up with a friendly smile on her face. "I imagine Mister Karrandin must have mentioned us, yes? I'm Iris, and that's Zvenya," she introduced, gesturing to the lower deck where the woman in question had immediately averted her gaze and was yet again struggling to get Scarlet under control. "Oh dear..." Iris continued with a soft blush on her cheeks. "Scarlet is being quite difficult today. I don't suppose you know anything about horses, do you?" she asked hopefully, looking back towards Loryn.

 

[Mien]

The man looked to be in good spirits. There was a spring in his step, a smile riding his face. The idea of travel had put him in good spirits and being on the open sea, heading to a destination that he had only ever heard of, gave him a boost to his step even if his only contract was to deliver the woman and her companion - really servant, as he had observed - to the shores of Savasinde.

“Dartanden is indeed on the ship already, Ms. Brown, but he does not steer it,” he chuckled, eyeing her as he fell into step at her side. “Morrisky - ah, Jakub - would likely cut off anyone’s hands for touching the wheel without his permission. No, Dartanden is a warrior, lass, or could you not tell by just looking at him?”

Karrandin glanced at the orc, who seemed to be struggling to handle both the horses and the baggage. Something that Iris was not worrying herself over. He stepped back out of line with walking alongside the young woman and made to offer his assistance in carrying a bag, perhaps two if the heft was not great. The horses he left the orc to handle herself, but he did have some sympathy for the fact that the woman had been left to carry the entire burden herself.

He kept talking just the same, his good spirits still high, “You will learn soon enough that Jakub has the run of the ship along with the rest of the lads and lasses. My team and I are -- what is the best way to put this? We are in the business of supply and demand. Only a part of that takes place on a ship; convenient that it does, for a ship can carry a man farther than a horse can more often than not, though we usually arrange for additional transport once we reach our initial destination. So while you are off galavanting where you will in the lovely Savasinde, me and mine will be working.”

He didn’t want to come right out and say that they were no better than mercenaries and smugglers; they had not yet exchanged coin with one another and he did not want to frighten the woman overly much before they had kicked off the dock and set sail. Then -- all bets were off.

“I have been to surrounding areas, but never to the island itself. I can assure you, however, that we know the way. The elf will be able to guide our sails and instinct, memory, and my maps will provide the rest of the way,” he explained, trying to sound reassuring, confident. Then he snorted at her notions of what it would be like, “I think the idea of somewhere being run by nothing but women is a terrifying concept. And dragons have long since fled the eye of man; too many of them were hunted for sport, some even say that they are extinct, unless you think the land of Savasinde is hoarding a collection of dragons.” The carnivorous trees he could almost believe, though. He had run into dangerous plant life that was a tall if not taller than the average man with snapping jaws that would suggest a person in days; a slow and torturous death. And vines that pulled a person limb from limb while the mouth opened to devour them in pieces.

He could believe that trees could be just as evil as well.

Karrandin did give up on trying to assist with carrying some of their luggage and with a sympathetic glance at the orc, quickened his pace to fall back into place at the young woman’s side.

Only to stop expectantly when the coin bag flew through the air. His grin turned eager and he even started to hold out his hand for their payment when the blasted woman suggested that they actually board the ship. It was his turn to scowl, though only looked half as ferocious as the orc’s look. Grunting, he had no choice but to follow the woman up the gangplank that led up to the deck, as she had already started in that direction.

If she did not pay, they could always throw the woman over the side of the ship. The orc he would even allow to stay; she seemed more useful than the prissy little thing that …

“Ms. Brown!” he shouted once the woman dropped the poor horse’s reins. He rushed forward to make sure that the orc had a grasp on the horse’s reins, then turned with an apologetic look to Jakub who was starting to turn red in the face as he moved towards them with purpose.

“What the bloody fuck is this?” he snapped, not seeming the least bit intimidated by the orc struggling with the pair of horses as he started waving his hands. “Get those animals off my deck. Down below with both of you, now!” As he turned his head and spat on the ground while eyeing Zvenya threateningly. “Now! Don’t look like a stuck fucking cow! And make sure they don’t shit everywhere! Grab Billy, the scrawny little fuck over there to the left to help you,” he barked, gesturing to a lad who was struggling to carry a mop and bucket with a mop up a set of stairs that led below decks. Then he whirled like a dervish to stalk toward the Captain, who was trying to make a beeline after Iris.

“Marnier! You said that these wenches would go quietly and get out of my way. Two seconds, less, on my ship, already being disruptive!” the old man complained. Karrandin stopped in his tracks, not looking at the other hand, but clapped a hand on the old man’s shoulder with an impish smile lighting his features.

“Morrisky, do not worry about the women. I will handle them so that they don’t get in your way. Stop being a pissy old fart and relax; they are women, harmless.”

The old fuck glared hard, but when he didn’t receive any additional remarks from the flame haired man, he whirled away to take out his frustrations in the form of barking commands at the rest of the men hustling across the deck.

Meanwhile, Loryn was being accosted by the ever curious woman. To the elf’s credit, they did not show any sign of apprehension at being disturbed by a stranger. Eyes that were more silver than blue flicked down to the woman as the figure shifted, stepping down from where they stood. Pale brows, finely wrought, drifted lower on the face’s elegant features in mild irritation. A few moments later a lukewarm smile touched on the curved bow of their face.

“Forgive me, but I do not,” the voice was a melodic flow, as androgynous as the face that looked down at her. “It seems to me that your assistance is needed, however.” Cool as a lake was the voice, a tinge of indifference infiltrating, indicating that perhaps the elf’s patience was already wearing thin at the intrusion.

Below on deck, Karrandin was watching Iris make a fool of herself in front of Loryn, “Ms. Brown, come down so that I can show you to your cabin!” he shouted, hands moving to his hips, striking a stern pose as he waited for her to join him once more.

Loryn smirked, their eyes crinkling. Like she was a pet cat, one slender hand slid from the robe’s sleeves to pat her on top of her head. Then the elf was turning away to stand prone against the buffeting breeze of the harbor.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Despite the fact that she was taller, younger, and probably stronger than old Jakub, Zvenya still couldn't help but shrink closer to the horses when she heard him scolding her. Threats against Iris might have been enough to rouse the half-orc's ire, but the man had hardly noticed the smaller woman (and where had she run off to, anyway?) and had turned his entire temper against the green one. "I-I'm sorry!" she stammered, trying to calm poor Scarlet who seemed even more anxious in response to the bearded man's snarls. Thankfully Billy, the younger lad Jakub had indicated, seemed to have a better way with beasts than a mop, and between the two of them they eventually got the horses below decks.

Zvenya was pleased to see the hold set aside for them would be plenty large enough for both to relax and even walk around in. It was darker and cooler as well, with plenty of straw on the ground and enough barrel of fodder set aside to keep the horses' bellies full for a few weeks at least. Whoever had stocked the area had even provided a shovel that could be used to muck out the stall. "Did the captain do this?" the half-orc asked Billy once they'd gotten the beasts settled, but he'd only shrugged and asked permission to excuse himself, clearly discomforted at the large woman's presence. She dismissed him with a nod but stayed with the horses a while longer, wondering who it was that could have made such generous accommodations in such a short amount of time.

Up on the deck, Iris blushed in pleasure as she felt the elf's eyes wandering over her body, her friend and the horses utterly forgotten at this point. Beneath her long lashes she tried to do the same, her violet gaze vising for a moment on Loryn's chest as she tried to puzzle out the beautiful stranger's gender. If they were a woman they certainly weren't overly blessed with curves, but perhaps it was possible that those exotic clothes were more binding than expected? In her head, the noblewoman's scientific curiosity was beginning to argue with her delicate sense of propriety, wondering if it would be excusable to simply come out and ask about the elf's condition or if perhaps there was a better way to observe it firsthand. The conflict might have gone on forever if the cross voice of Mister Karrandin hadn't shouted up towards her, making Iris roll her eyes in exasperation.

"You must excuse me Miss...ter..." Her blush darkened as she began to pluck at the fabric of her skirt. Judging by the pat on the head the elf had offered, they couldn't have been too offended, but a tactical retreat did seem appropriate for the moment regardless. "Forgive me, Loryn, it seems I'm needed elsewhere. But I would very much like to get to know you better once we're all settled in. By your leave." Curtsying quickly, she descended the stairs to the main deck as quickly as she'd climbed them, arriving in front of Karrandin in a huff.

Smoothing down her clothing and hair, Iris eyed the ginger much more coolly than she had the elf, although his stern affectations did tempt a little crinkle at the corner of her mouth. Rather like a boy playing pirate she thought as she followed him down the stairs to the belowdecks. Now if that Jakub fellow had been the one giving orders, she might have stepped a little more quickly. He certainly seemed much more captain-ish than Karrandin did. Perhaps Iris had been mistaken when she assumed the one-eyed man had full command of the ship. It certainly wouldn't have surprised her if he really was just a crewman with enough arrogance to accept passengers on the ship's behalf.

The respectful salutes of the other crewmembers they passed though quickly dispelled that theory, and she was relieved when they encountered Zvenya near the bottom of the stairs, still carrying all the luggage and looking slightly less stressed than she had earlier.

"Oh, there you are. Are the horses all settled in?" Iris asked casually as she glanced over the half-orc's shoulder down the corridor.

"Yes ma'am. I think they'll do quite well down here," Zvenya replied in pleasant surprised. For a moment, her attention lingered on Karrandin, and despite the gloom of the corridor she seemed to see him in a new light. "Thank you for the generous accommodations, Captain. My Da always says you can see goodness in any man that treats animals well. If I've shown you any rudeness before now, you have my sincerest apologies."

Iris sniffed a little and rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, you may want to save those until you've seen our cabin, Zven. Is it much farther, Mister Karrandin? I can't imagine she enjoys carrying all those bags." She glanced towards the packs still slung across Zvenya' back. At least she'd managed to stow the saddles and other tack with the horses, but the poor half-orc had to stoop to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling as it was, and the luggage probably didn't help matters.

 

[Mien]

Billy looked like he would rather be cleaning privies out than leading the orc down into the belly of the ship. The lad’s eyes were wide and shifty as he loitered back toward the steps that would lead him back up to deck, though his attention drifted around the area cleared to allow the horses to be tied and comfortable enough. “I dunno, miss uh..” he trailed off, nose scrunching as he looked Zvenya up and down, a hint of prejudiced distaste on his dirty, pale face. “I was jus’ told tha’ here is where the horses go and to lead you here. Can I go now?” He asked, unease lacing his voice, distrust at being kept in close quarters to her evident on his face.

Not that he waited for much of a response before he turned and hauled it back up into fresher air, leaving the half-orc alone with the horses and hoping that his duties would not be to help out any further than just that.

Above deck, Loryn was still tolerating the effects of the young woman who had found them at their post, though the elf - well, half elf, though that wasn’t something that the woman needed to know - was starting to show their irritation at being pestered when she finally turned and headed back down to the deck. Iridescent blue followed her descent, lips pursed in a faint line that was both amusement and perturbation, though the creature that she was so easily fascinated by had not remarked either way on whether they would be open to her company further.

Karrandin, for his part, looked to be in good spirits when Iris joined him back on deck. Gone was the mock stern disposition he had tried to strike to appease Jakub, replaced by a look of boyish excitement that was carried out when he slapped his hand - perhaps a bit too hard - on her dainty feminine shoulder, fingers curling as he steered her body in the direction that he wanted her to go. The voice that came with his demeanor was chipper and belied any authority that the crew nodded and grunted in his direction as they passed. “Ms. Brown, I’m glad that you are eager to introduce yourself to the rest of the company, and I assure you that once we have prepared to set sail and are out on open waters, you will have ample time to pester them as you see fit. We do, however, have the important matter of payment to take care of. Once your ser-- ah, friend--” He cast a sidelong look and an apologetic smile to Zvenya as she joined them just below deck and motioned her with his free hand to join them on their trek to find their cabin. “Sets aside your luggage, we can meet in my private quarters, then I shall show you around the rest of the ship. Or at least the places where you will be allowed to roam, you understand. Unless you are planning on joining me for the evening, you will not be allowed in my quarters, for instance…” He eyed the orc and smiled, winking, but did not directly confirm that he had arranged better accommodations for the animals. “I’m glad you found the space suitable for the animals. Couldn’t have Jakub pitching a bigger fit than he already has about them being on board.”

He spoke, voice eloquent and dipped in his good spirits still, while he led both of them down a level further than the main deck and down a hallway of cabin doors. He stopped at one at the very end and pushed it open with a flourish, revealing a room that was sparse in accommodation, but at least comfortable in appearance. A bed large enough to fit a single person, perhaps two if they pushed close together, was anchored against a wall, though a cot had been pulled into the room for Zvenya.

He actually looked somewhat apologetic. “Ah… I know it is sparse. I can arrange a smaller room for you to bunk in by yourself, closer to the horses, if you like,” he said to the orc. “Unless you do not mind sharing space.”

Other than the bed and cot, there were a couple of small shelves against the walls and a desk with a lantern. A small trunk was bolted to the floor at the foot of the bed and a small table at the head where the lantern could be moved to.

“The other places that might be of interest would be the mess hall and the library - or what we call the library. I call it my map room myself, though Esme and Loryn both use the space to well… read,” he made a face, rolled his eyes, then grinned to determine that he was at least pretending to jest about his disinterest in books. “You will meet Esme tonight, I imagine, but she tends to keep to herself and doesn’t tend to like strangers. Dartanden you have already met. As well as Loryn. Everyone else is under Jakub, they are his crew, and work the ship. Now, unless you have any questions, follow me…”

From there, he led them to the mess hall just off the kitchens, which was already bustling with the men and women who worked aboard the ship. Long wooden tables bolted down had a smattering of folk either chattering with one another or eating food from bowls. “If you are so lucky, a few of the lads and lasses like to play games and instruments down here to stem the boredom,” he grinned, then again led them to the other end of the ship, where a pair of doors opened up into a larger room.

Stately, the map room was exactly what it seemed like. It had a finished touch to it where the rest did not seem to; a broad table dominated the center of the room, itself a large map of the known world whittled into its surface. Even currently, there were parchments and rolled up smaller maps across its surface. Decor dominated the walls, oddities and treasures that stemmed from the crevices of the world put on display -- from the skull of what looked like some sort of fantastical creature, horned and fanged -- that loomed over a dark, wooden desk to delicate crystal balls that dangled like a wind chime from the ceiling. As well as a deep burgundy rug, plush and exotic, that covered the wooden floors beneath their feet and stretched out across the room. True to its other name, shelves were built right into the ship, lined with books and scrolls of all kinds. A plush couch and chairs were scattered through the rest of the room with oil lamps on the walls to shine light.

The best touch was the window, curved to fit the shape of the room, that provided a view of the ocean and sky outside, where the deep blue of the water sparkled still in the sunlight.

Karrandin cleared his throat and eyed the women, “Now for the business of payment, yes?”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Neither woman seemed overly impressed by their accomodations, but Iris was too polite and Zvenya too indifferent to complain. If the former were on her own the cabin would have been snug enough, but with the half-orc sharing the space as well the living was going to be quite cramped indeed. The two women looked at each other, then shrugged, the same though crossing both of their minds. Iris no doubt would be spending a fair amount of time belowdecks working on her various projects, whereas Zvenya, never a fan of cramped spaces even on land, was sure she could find other ways to occupy herself. Perhaps if the weather held she could even find some cozy nook on deck where she could curl up and sleep with the night breeze on her face, rather than shut up in a tomb like this on a laughably small cot that probably wouldn't even hold her weight.

Then again, judging by the look on Karrandin's face, Zvenya thought it might be best to share a room with her friend after all, for the first few nights at least. Just until she could be sure their current scandal wouldn't be worsened by Iris' poor character judgment.

The noblewoman was somewhat concerned about the dimness of the cabin more than anything else. While there was one small, high window that allowed the smallest modicum of light, it was hardly enough to read by, let alone write or conduct experiments. Thankfully Iris had the foresight to bring along a small supply of alchemist's candles which would hopefully help, but they would need to be used sparingly unless she could find a way to obtain more freatine before they reached Savasinde. Oh well, at least there was a desk and some shelving available, and Zvenya would hardly have a use for either. The alchemist would simply have to make do.

"I think we can get settled in a bit later, Zven," she suggested to her friend, who was already transferring clothing from Iris' largest pack into the trunk at the foot of the bed. Glancing back towards Karrandin, Iris gave him the cool look her father always used (to no avail) on his creditors. "I believe Mister Karrandin would feel more comfortable if we settled the matter of payment as quickly as possible. Although I wasn't aware we looked so untrustworthy, were you?" the noblewoman continued, glancing in amusement towards the half-orc, who let out a heavy sigh in response.

"As you wish, miss," she said, straightening as much as she possibly could given the low ceiling of the cabin. Following Iris and Karrandin back out into the corridor, she made a careful note of the route they were taking, not wanting to become disoriented at some point in the future if a quick escape was necessary. Thankfully it seemed they were near the center of the ship, which by the half-orc's understanding meant they should be the least subject to the swaying of the waves. Even now though her stomach was uncertain about the rolling motions of the vessel, and as they passed the mess hall she couldn't have been less interested, though Iris seemed curious about the sailors gathered within.

What really caught her attention though was the mention of the library. Letting her soft lips drop open in surprise, Iris stopped dead in front of the door to the map room, nearly causing Zvenya to collide with her. "You have a library on board? How remarkable!" she gasped, the captain completely forgotten as she made a beeline for the nearest rack of scrolls.

"I'm afraid you've lost her," Zvena stated flatly to the captain, passing him carelessly to take a look at the map in the center of the room. "She's a veritable magpie when it comes to books. I should warn you, she will borrow them from you, whether you permit it or no. I hope your catalogue is well-organized."

Her yellow eyes rested on a familiar-looking stretch of coast where the Vrel emptied into the sea. Just upstream she could see the carved trees of Zurion Wood, and a ways farther up the stately northern city of Rheintern. And above that the Corogough Mountains, which made the southernmost boundary of a blank space decorated with fantastical drawings of primordial birds and beasts, as well as a hulking, hideous man with protruding tusks. Frowning, Zvenya turned away and strode towards the window, staring out at the blue line of the sea and sky ahead.

If Iris had hoped to immediately find a treatise or other record of Savasinde on the first rack, she was sorely disappointed. Most of these particular writings seemed to be related to navigation and weather patterns; an interesting enough subjects on its own she supposed but hardly relevant in this case. Thankfully, her disappointment was enough to remind her of the business at hand, and neatly putting the scroll back in the rack, she turned to face the one eyed man. "I suppose there will be plenty of time to look through them later," she agreed, sitting down on an intricately carved chair in front of the desk. Gesturing to Zvenya to pull up a second one, she opened the small purse in her lap and began to fish out coins one by one.

"Two hundred we agreed, yes?" she stated, counting out stacks of ten while the half-orc quietly echoed the count to verify. It took a fair amount of time, but before too long twenty neat stacks stood on the desk in two rows like patiently waiting soldiers, waiting to be collected by their new commander. Satisfied, Iris sat back in the chair and cinched her purse shut before handing it over to her companion.

"Are we all in order then, Mister Karrandin?" Iris asked, her violet eyes darting hopefully at the shelves of books. "I imagine you must have a great deal of work to do before we can set sail, and I'd hate to keep you from it..."

 

[Mien]

For some reason, Karrandin looked uncomfortable at not having more lascivious rooms available for the two women than what he showed them; out of the available space on board the ship, the most luxurious quarters were his own. And he was not about to give up his own quarters, not unless the lovely Iris was angling to join him for the evening -- and somehow he doubted those were in her intentions at all. Though for all her high and mighty attitude, the young woman was fair on the eyes, and no doubt fair everywhere hidden underneath her garments as well.

However, he did not like her disregard for her companion, whom he now was fully committed to believe was nothing more than her servant. As a man who traveled the world, Karrandin had seen his fair share of races, species, sentient beings of all sorts. Orcs may be seen by humankind and some of the fairer races as being savages, and perhaps in their own way they were, but their ingrained culture was, by no means, the way of a servant. They were warriors all, though if he happened to look closely enough at Zvenya, he found her to be more meek than warrior-like.

But that could just be whatever arrangement she had with her mistress. And he was in no position to comment or argue.

Once they reached the library, he slanted a glance to the orc and tried his best not to cringe when Iris started rifling through his belongings within the map room at her own leisure, or if she had a right to. Which she did not. He grimaced at the orc, his lips twisting, then he shrugged and exaggerated a sigh. “What was I expecting, no?” The rhetoric in response to the orc commenting on the fact that Iris had been lost.

“You may look as you will later, Ms. Brown,” he assured her once she had settled down into the chair, his own frame moving to the other side of the desk. As if it made him appear more official or some such, when really he was following this strange woman’s lead on the matter of settling their payment. “Esme has her own collection of books on… potions and poisons and the like and Loryn has a collection of foolhardy novels written by loremasters and poets, if that is to your fancy. We would not want you to get bored during your time aboard the ship, after all.”

Gods forbid. He did not want to be left to host the woman and hoped that the pair could find their own business to attend to and leave him be until they arrived at their destination. Once the coins began stacking on his desk, though, the look of polite consternation changed swiftly to something more smug and pleased as he swiped the coin and pocketed them in a purse at his hip.

Sweeping himself away from the desk and back to the door, he gave a gallant bow to the two women. “Thank you kindly, Iris. Zvenya. I shall see you in the mess hall at dinnertime. You will enjoy the cook’s finest tonight, since everything is fresh, though we shall be well on our way and out to sea by then. I have things to take care of before we depart, but feel free to ask any of the lads running amok if you need anything until then. And… try not to be too nosy, yea?”

He was gone after his parting words, retreating above deck to begin preparing to set sail out to sea.

~~~


The sun was sinking down below the horizon, casting its deep orange rays across the sparkling ocean that surrounded them on all sides by the time dinner was served that first night. The men and boys that had been manning the craft above were overjoyed to be abandoning their duties for the evening after a long days’ work and heading down galleys for their evening meal. They were sailors all and smelled as much as they clambered down and filtered into the space that Karrandin had shown the women earlier. And while the workers aboard the ship seated themselves on benches nailed into the bottom of the craft once they lined up and slopped food onto their plates, the Captain himself and his company of five were off to the side at their own table.

Tonight’s meal was a hearty beef stew chock full of vegetables and herbs, made that way while everything was at its freshest. A heel of bread was served with the stew and Blanca, their chef, had even prepared a cream and honey pie for their desert.

The company had just begun eating, all five. Karrandin and Dartanden sat side by side, the two men talking quietly amongst themselves, and seemed to be the closest of the five in terms of friendship, though on occasion the redhead would lift his head and grin salaciously at a woman who sat across from him.

This would be Esme, an exotic beauty with her darker skin and alluring eyes. Unlike Dartanden, she did not wear the native garb of her own people, having abandoned her own culture for a more intrinsic appeal. She wore her dark mane of hair piled up on her head and caught up with a tie that kept it out of her face while the rest of it flowed in a swath down her back. She also wore a billowing tunic and man’s leggings with boots on her feet, though still had her eyes lined and kohled so that they popped from her face.

Loryn sat to her left and was seated across from Dartanden, who seemed to not be troubling himself with company at all, and was focused on his meal when he was not trading low conversation with the Captain. The half-elf had not changed from their earlier attire, though a fresh application of color on their lips and mouth to match the colors on their robe. The elf ate with hands that were almost delicate in nature and wore a broad smile on their face now as they leaned into the woman, teasing her enough that she shot him a look that could have strangled anyone elf, but the elf only laughed and plucked at her hair.

The only person missing from their table was the old man, though his loud shouts at Blanca in the back of the mess gave his position away soon enough.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Iris breathed out a sigh of relief once Karrandin swept the coins off the table, satisfied that now the ugly matter of money was out of the way she could resume her perusal of his collection. She was already halfway out of her chair when Zvenya's gruff voice surfaced the matter of a receipt.

"After all, without proper documentation, who's to say he won't just claim we never paid him later on?" the green woman remarked, not bothering to mask the suspicion either in her voice or eyes. She hadn't liked how swiftly he'd taken Iris' money, even if he had been entitled to it and the count had been fair. But perhaps that was just the country girl in her; after all Da would have killed her if she ever returned from marketing without all the proper bills of sale.

Unfortunately the alchemist, who had never shopped herself for anything more expensive than a meat pie, had no such interest in bookkeeping. "Oh please, Zven, can't you see he's a busy man!" Iris scolded, waving the matter away. But the half-orc was unshaken, and folded her brawny arms in front of her chest as her piercing yellow gaze shifted from the man to the woman. The noblewoman did her best to stare her friend down, but it seemed this was one of the few matters on which Zvenya was not going to budge. "Fine. Mister Karrandin, I'm sure you can have one of your people draw something up once we're underway, can't you? No hurry, of course. It's a long way to Savasinde, of course." With a placid smile and no further interest in the matter, Iris returned her attention to the nearest bookshelf, content to let the captain and the green woman do as they wished.

Zvenya might have pushed the matter further, but Karrandin was already gone and Iris nearly as good as it. "I suppose I'll go see to the unpacking then," she grumbled, excusing herself from the room without so much as a wave from the alchemist.

In Iris' defense, this second collection of tomes was already proving much more valuable than the first, and her eyes flashed with joy as they fell on a moss-colored spine emblazoned with the words "Flora and Fauna of the Ruby Sea and Surrounding Islands." While there was some argument about whether Savasinde was actually in the Ruby Sea (its geographical location was said to be on the indefinable border of it and the Bay of Erys) the book would at least provide some insight on what they could possibly expect once the ship reached the island. The noblewoman did already have a passing insight into the more common creatures and plants round in that part of the world, but this particular volume was unfamiliar with her, and as she settled into Karrandin's chair behind the desk and drew a small pair of silver-rimmed spectacles from her pocket, she began to peruse the pages for any references that might seem useful.

Of course, she could hardly expect the word "ioslite" to come up. That was a term rarely known outside alchemical circles, and even there if often went by other names: mydasia, "Philosopher's Tears" (or "Spunk" as some of her more vulgar colleagues called it), unobtanium. A majority of the Guild Masters wrote the mineral off as utterly legendary, and if it weren't for one of Count Zurion's many debts Iris might have agreed with the assessment. But there was one scroll that had been a part of Master Adolar's collection, an ancient treatise nearly a thousand years old, carefully preserved and detailing the substance's physical appearance:

'It is a soft metal to the touch, but inexplicably durable. It can be molded by hand but cannot be broken save by adamantine chisels and blades. In its raw form its color is dark red and metallic, although when subjected to volcanic heat and saltwater it will turn bluish-white and become translucent. All elastic properties are lost in this state, though they may be restored if the sample is subjected to still, highly alkaline water for great periods of time. Restored ioslite will not activate in a Mydas Reaction, only raw samples may be used...'

Iris had never seen raw ioslite, nor had anyone else. And while many had claimed to obtain the useless salt-cured versions, all samples that had ever been tested were always proved to be quartz or some other lesser mineral. But nearly a year ago now, a memory of a certain ring had risen up in the noblewoman's mind. It had been her father's, won in some card game or another in his better years, and Count Zurion had always boasted it was a "Savasinde Diamond," imperfect in its cloudy powder-blue color but impossibly hard and almost utilitarian in its cut and design. To the average jeweler the specimen held little interest beyond its size, but to a seven-year-old girl with endless curiosity, it had been an item of fascination, and Iris had felt no greater satisfaction than the day she had finally stolen it from her father's room and worn it around for an entire afternoon.

When the ring was noticed missing however, her pride immediately turned to fear, and by some stroke of childish foolishness she'd dropped it in a cistern of water behind the blacksmith's forge. Despite days of searching, the ring was never found, and the hapless Count had been forced to pay his debt with a handful of lesser baubles from the family treasury. By the time Iris had found the opportunity to retrieve the ring, she noticed the stone had turned from the cloudy bluish-white to and opaque red lump that squished like putty between the child's fingers. Both horrified and mystified at what she'd done, Iris had kept the ring hidden away in her room for years, only bringing it out again as she deepened her interest in Mydas Reactions. Even now the thing was tucked safely away in a hidden compartment of one of her tool boxes in the cabin down the hall, unknown even to Zvenya as she unpacked the items.

But even if the ring could be recognized as a Savasinde Diamond, those gems were hardly worth anything these days, and weren't even considered real diamonds by proper jewelers. The purveyors of cheap jewelry could still obtain them for low prices around the islands of the Ruby Sea if they really wanted, but Iris wasn't interested in those specimens, which were usually washed up on pebbly shores and indistinguishable from common beach glass. No, she wanted to find the source of the raw red metal, and what better place to start looking than the diamonds' namesake island?

So she spent the rest of the afternoon poring through the books, looking for any mention of Savasinde Diamonds or similar minerals. Even though her search turned up nothing in the end, it was still preferable to how the rest of Zvenya's day was going. After setting up Iris' workstation in their cabin and checking on the horses again, the half-orc was growing ever more conscious of the increased swaying of the ship, and suddenly the hearty breakfast she'd eaten back at the inn was no longer sitting well in her stomach. She did manage to make it up to the deck and over to the side before sending it down to the waves, but that was only the start of her misery.

Somehow the tossing and swaying seemed even worse on deck than it had below, and on top of the physical misery she was also forced to listen to the occasional snide comment about landlubbers and their weak stomachs. When Zvenya did find the strength to look back at the sailors though, the look in her eye was usually enough to silence them. Although orcs might not have been seafaring folks as a whole (which was all the better, probably), no one wanted to be on the green woman's bad side once she managed to collect herself. Sadly, it looked as though that was going to take some time, and she was grateful when one of the cabin boys finally found the strength of heart to help her back to her own cabin, even going so far as to get her settled on Iris' bed and providing her with an empty bucket and full flagon of water.

That was how the noblewoman found her at dinner time, although she could smell her friend's wretchedness as soon as she opened the door. "Oh dear, got a bit of the seasickness, do you?" Iris replied sympathetically while immediately opening up as many sachets of fragrant herbs as she could find.

"Kill me please," the half-orc moaned, gripping the flattened pillow against her stomach.

"After dinner, perhaps," the alchemist replied, ignoring her friend's retch at the word "dinner" and immediately beginning to strip out of her day clothes. "I suspect you will not be joining us?"

Zvenya looked weakly over at her friend. On the one hand, the idea of eating anything, or even trying to stand up, sounded like absolute torture. On the other, could she really trust Iris alone with these people?

The noblewoman certainly didn't seem to have any hesitations as she began to dress in one of her more formal frocks, a low-cut lavender affair that set off her eyes beautifully and would look completely out of place in the galley of a ship. "You needn't worry about me, you know. It's just dinner. And I'll have some dry bread and broth sent back for you, if you like. You'll be up and about in no time, I'm sure." At least, Iris hoped so. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have minded sharing a bed with Zvenya, but not if she was going to be up vomiting all night. Perhaps she'd need to discuss that extra room with the captain after all.

Once she was fully dressed, she pulled a lace handkerchief from her bodice and gently mopped away the sweat on her friend's forehead. "Poor thing," she murmured, genuine concern in her voice now. "Maybe...maybe I should stay?"

The half-orc wanted to say yes, but one look at Iris' face told her it would be selfish. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything the alchemist would be able to do about it. For all her science and experiments, she still didn't know a thing about medicine. "No, go on. But maybe see if they have a doctor or something, with some medicine?"

"Ah, yes! Mister Karrandin did say he had a healer on board. I'll go fetch her right away. Get some rest in the meantime, dear." Leaning down, Iris kissed her friend's temple, then leaving a few alchemist's candles to gently illuminate the room, she stepped back out in to the corridor and made her way to the mess hall.

Iris could feel all eyes upon her as she walked in, but she hardly minded or even noticed them. Her eyes were too busy searching for the shock of ginger hair and the shine of Karradin's crystal eye to linger too much on anyone else, and when she finally found him seated at a table of to the side she made a beeline straight for him. "Ah, there you are, Mister Karrandin. I wonder if you might be able to introduce me to your healer?" the alchemist asked, completely oblivious to the dark haired woman at the table. "I'm afraid my companion has a very troublesome case of seasickness, and I was hoping they might be able to aid her."

Sitting down at the one open place at the table (despite the glances from the shocked sailors around the hall who knew how Jakub would react when he saw the stranger in his seat), Iris glanced around at the familiar faces of Dartanden and Loryn, offering the latter a charming smile as she glanced around for a servant of some kind. "I don't suppose I might trouble you for a glass of wine? Preferably a Vrelish White, but I'm not particular about the year," she added, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she waited for her own meal to be served.