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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 2508016" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p>Well, here's a pleasant surprise. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> I hadn't expected to update so quickly, but dragnfly, who plays Viktalia, kindly made a rather long writeup, which I've integrated into this post. Its rather easy to tell... she wrote most dealing from Viktalia's performance on, and is an excellent writer on her own merit. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>Mutiny on the <em>Black Joke</em></strong></p><p></p><p>“Okay... Rolles, you cut the piece too large!” Siran growled, before looking at the sailor in question. The young man was still learning the ropes of how to be a carpenter aboard ship, and it <em>was</em> early morning. <em>Patience hasn’t worked yet, maybe putting some fear of the saints into him will!</em> Siran focused his gaze into the fiercest, angriest glare he could create, and folded his arms. “Now, what should we do about this?”</p><p></p><p>“Um... resize it?” the young man said, obviously frightened the display of anger from the ship’s carpenter.</p><p></p><p><em>Good... now I have his attention...</em></p><p></p><p> Siran was about to instruct the hapless fellow on how to resize the replacement rib for one of the water barrels below when his own thoughts were interrupted.</p><p></p><p>“Rapp!” Kaled’s rough-hewn voice rumbled from behind him. In the week they had been at sea, he’d learned to discern when the sharp cracking voice was meant to only grab one’s attention, and when it was used in anger. This time, it was only for attention, and that the noise, all the sailors below decks stood at attention.</p><p></p><p>“Yessir?” Siran stood and turned, before saluting. Kaled was a Lieutenant, and not only that, but an officer he respected. </p><p></p><p>“Rapp, I need to see you for a minute, in my cabin,” Kaled said gruffly, waving Siran to follow. Siran clambered around the crowded lower decks, clambering around cannonballs, powder, barrels and cargo, until he reached the end of the lower deck, and the tiny rooms set aside for the commissioned officers and noncoms. Kaled opened a door at the end, and motioned Siran into his tiny room.</p><p></p><p>It was the largest of the rooms, but only eight by eight feet, tiny and cramped by the standards of anyone used to land. In one corner hung Kaled’s hammock, in the other, sat a small bench. The Lieutenant motioned for Siran to sit down, as he slid into the hammock and began to rock.</p><p></p><p>“Rapp?” Kaled said, twiddling his fingers as he rocked, “you’ve heard some things from the crew over the past week?”</p><p></p><p><em>Oh no...</em> Siran thought... <em>word of the rumblings has gotten out. Kaled is surely siding with the captain, and he’ll probably want me to rat out those who want to get rid of Cecil...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>...great...</em></p><p></p><p>“Um... yes, yes sir I have,” Siran said guardedly. </p><p></p><p>“Things pertaining to the captain?” Kaled pressed harder. </p><p></p><p>“Um... yes...”</p><p></p><p>“And what,” the Lieutenant was suddenly propping himself up, looking Siran in the eyes, “are you planning to do about it?” His eyes flashed, and Siran realized that Kaled knew <em>exactly</em> what he had heard. </p><p></p><p><em>Great... he knows. Tread real carefully now, Siran...</em></p><p></p><p>“I... I don’t know what to do,” Siran lied. <em>In all honesty, I wouldn’t mind dumping Cecil overboard.</em> “I only started hearing rumblings of this yesterday... before the sahuagin attack.” At the mention of the party’s heroism, Kaled’s eyes seemed to light up, and he pushed himself upright. </p><p></p><p>“Hmm, well, let me tell you what <em>I’ve</em> heard,” Kaled said, rubbing his grizzled beard. “<em>I’ve</em> heard the crew, to a man, say they think that Captain Cecil Daod is a foolish landlubber, who is leading us to our deaths.” Kaled then pushed out of his hammock, then put his hands on his lips. “They say that he shows no respect to the traditions of the sea, and to save us all, he needs to be thrown overboard, to the mercy of Saint Porus and the Seven Winds.” He looked directly at Siran, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. “And I happen to think that they’re right!”</p><p></p><p><em>They’re right?!</em> Siran’s jaw dropped. Kaled was the last person he’d expect to be a member of a mutinous plot.</p><p></p><p>“Pick your jaw up off the floor, laddie,” Kaled replied, “I have been a sailor long before I’ve been an Imperial officer, and I know the demands and penalties of Saint Porus. So if I need to throw the Captain overboard to save us all... I will. And I am not ashamed to say... I’ll need your help.”</p><p></p><p>“My help?” <em>Me? Why me?</em> Siran asked.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, your help... and the help of your friends...” Kaled said.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“...and since the crew holds us in such high respect, he’s sure that if we sided against Cecil, the crew would be unanimous, and the Captain could be tossed overboard with ease,” Siran hissed a few minutes later. “I told him I didn’t want to speak without talking to you and Visiel first... and he agreed to wait...”</p><p></p><p>Viktalia listened as Siran spoke, and then shook her head. <em>There are so many problems with this... the least of which is simply tossing Cecil overboard...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>...and besides, I can think of an alternative...</em></p><p></p><p>“I don’t think this course would be wise...” she said finally. “Firstly, the Baron seems fond of Cecil, and it wouldn’t be smart to toss his protege overboard when <em>that</em> is only a short distance away,” she pointed to the squat, huge hulk of the Baron’s galleon only a half-mile ahead. </p><p></p><p>“Point,” Siran conceded.</p><p></p><p>“And secondly,” Viktalia added, a devilish smile on her lips, “I think I can persuade the Captain to leave the vessel most peaceably...”</p><p></p><p>When Siran pressed, Viktalia refused to divulge any more details. <em>Maybe later today, a performance might be in order...</em> she thought with a smile to herself.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Siran found a seat on the far side of the ring of sailors. Most were chatting excitedly, sharing what knowledge they knew of the Fomorteran dancer. </p><p></p><p>“I heard that she even sang at the Red-Eyed Crow in Erelion!” one said, before his comrade shushed him.</p><p></p><p>“I heard her dancing is covered in magic, that wizards even came out of the room stumbling from the magical deluge!” another whispered.</p><p></p><p>Siran chose to keep his words and opinions to himself; leaning back against the bulkhead, he crossed his arms and stole a glance toward the other side of the ship. At the ship’s bow, Visiel stood staring out to sea, unwavering as a steel pillar. <em>On patrol again,… , and that’s not the only thing he’s good at.</em> Siran wasn’t the only one whose opinion about the warforged had gone up. <em>Two sahuagin in just a few seconds…he certainly is a hell-of-a fighter</em></p><p></p><p>Soft “shhhs” and “ooohs” cut his thoughts short as Kaled and Cecil climbed up from below decks. Siran couldn’t help but give a soft snicker as he saw that Cecil was clad in so many frilly silks that his face could hardly be seen above all the ruffles. <em>That man is deeply infatuated. Poor Viktalia; to have such a stupid oaf lusting after you.</em></p><p></p><p>Later that day, Cecil had done yet another heinous act in the eyes of the sailors. <em>Imagine, cutting your hair and nails on the deck, in full view of the men, and then letting them drop into the sea!</em> Siran snorted. Legends spoke that under every man’s pinky St. Porus stored a piece of good luck... to cut off your pinkie fingernail meant releasing all your good luck...</p><p></p><p>The sailor’s rumblings had risen again, and Siran had sworn that he saw several large brutes moving towards Cecil from behind has he did the deed, but Viktalia, who was up in the crow’s nest at the time, had glided down and landed spectacularly amidst the fermenting chaos and announced that that night there was to be a performance to end all performances. With a wink, and a smile, she had then whisked herself away below decks to prepare, leaving the crew distracted and quiet, and people murmuring quietly amongst themselves.</p><p></p><p>“I have heard that she was so popular that she attracted the attention of the great nobles even!” the first whispered again.</p><p></p><p>“Bah! Now you’re making things up!” his neighbor hissed.</p><p></p><p>Finally towards the front, old Kaled cleared his throat, quieting all twenty-three of the assembled crewmen. He stood at the front... it was likely if Cecil had issued an order to shutup, the crew would have merely ignored it. </p><p></p><p>“Tonight,” Kaled’s rough voice echoed over the decks just as the sun blazed red in the coming dusk, “we will be treated to a rare spectacle. Known as the most famous Formorteran dancer throughout the lands, may I present….Viktalia Starwynd!”</p><p></p><p>There was a few moments applause, before all eyes focused on the opening to the hold. Silence reigned within. A minute passed. Two minutes. The men began to fidget and Siran frowned. <em>I know all about making an entrance, but this is not the time to be fashionably late…</em> A second later, the soft ringing of bells chimed through the air. At its noise, everyone grew silent and still again.</p><p></p><p>From the hold, the rustle of fabric could be heard. Bells chimed again, and above them, a soft crooning filled the night air, the notes ringing true in the air. Siran shuddered silently as the melodious sounds traced down his spine, a similar reaction falling across every man on deck. They all sat taller and straighter, eyes focused, mouths slightly open as the spectacle before them slowly unfolded. The wordless song rose and fell on the evening air as the rustle of fabric grew louder. Then, out of the hold, a shimmer of gold gleamed. Everyone leaned forward as one.</p><p></p><p>The tip of a long black ear rose slowly from the opening; its edges covered in small golden bells. The ear twitched, and a scale of golden notes fell out; matching the notes of the crooning song. Another moment, another rustle, and another ear appeared, twitching in counterpoint to its partner, the notes perfectly matching the song. </p><p></p><p>Siran forced himself to close his mouth and not be hypnotized by the beat of the song. He had forgotten…Viktalia didn’t play an instrument….she <em>was</em> an instrument.</p><p></p><p>A figure emerged slowly from the darkness below, but all that could be seen was the two ears, the rest of her seemingly covered by a great black velvet cape. Viktalia had her wings opened to their fullest extent, and holding them like two giant fans, they covered her body from head to toe. </p><p></p><p>The figure began to sway along the tune she was singing, ears twitching in purposeful rhythm. The deck was absolutely silent, no one dared move to risk breaking the beauty of the dance. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp. A glimpse of beige fur covering an elegant foot appeared at the bottom of the black winged curtain. Another instant, and more of the foot was visible. </p><p></p><p>In this chanting, swaying way, both legs were revealed so far up that Siran had a sudden thought that Viktalia was naked behind her wings That thought brought a rush of tangled emotions that were quickly banished when her next sway brought a glimpse of black and red fabric into view.</p><p></p><p>Viktalia’s dance began to get more complicated as she revealed more of her body. Bits of gold encircled her calves, also covered in bells, and as she moved her legs, the notes matched her song perfectly. She was revealed up to her waist now, twisting and writhing her body as the song became wilder, stronger. Suddenly, she was singing in a language that could only be Fomorteran. The words shone in the sun’s fading light as much as the bits of gold sown into her dress. Siran was suddenly reminded of a fox he had once seen in his youth. The animal had regarded him with laughing, wild eyes that promised adventure and freedom; the taste of a clear stream, and the joy of running beneath a star-strewn sky. All of the pains and pleasures of life were rolled up into that single promising glance.</p><p></p><p>Viktalia’s song had the same promise. </p><p></p><p><em>What a life these Fomorterans must lead…</em> he thought lazily.</p><p></p><p>Viktalia’s dance brought her wings up higher, revealing a dress cut shockingly low, and the beginning of the curve of her neck. Surprisingly, Siran found that wasn’t staring at her cleavage, but at the dark fabric of her wings that hid her face. Another few moments and he was rewarded; the wings peeled back, and the long, strong lines of her fox-like face were revealed, golden eyes closed tight with love of her song, white star shinning in the middle of the dark mask across her forehead. She held her arms up high as the climax of the song rushed over them all, and then faded as the sun sank into the ocean. For a moment, the scene was carved in stone, then as one, the entire crew broke out into screams and cheers. Siran was among them, clapping eagerly and rushing forward, wishing he had some something to give the beautiful dancer, to make her notice him, to make her sing again…</p><p></p><p>Then that thought vanished, and he was himself again; and although the power of her song still clung to the back of his mind, he managed to not rush up close to her as many of the others were doing, offering everything to small pieces of jewelry to carved wooden statues. Cecil outdid them all and produced a box tied closed with a ribbon that contained a dozen <em>fresh</em>, not dried, pears. Viktalia seized one and sunk her teeth into it with a look of pure guilty pleasure. A few moments later, she opened her mouth, and Siran knew she was saying sweet nothings, working her magic, the same magic he’d seen many work over the eons.</p><p></p><p>Siran turned away and went to stand over by Visiel, who had turned from his vigil of the sea to examine the crowd with a slightly annoyed expression.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>They are loud, and will hide the sound of any enemies’ approach,</em> “Why do they fawn over her so? I have seen other humans acting the same way around females.” The warforged turned back to the sea after his comment. </p><p></p><p>“Women. The powers they hold.” Siran snorted and also turned his back on the ensemble, his good mood suddenly gone “You’re lucky you’re not human.” <em>One minute you’re the happiest guy in the world, the next you’re a worthless piece of rat feces. To them, we’re just pawns in a game.</em> He traced the wood grain beneath his fingers absently, thinking morose thoughts about his past experiences with women, when a sudden tap on his shoulders and a warm spicy scent brought his head around.</p><p></p><p>Viktalia stood only a foot away, her fur slightly damp from exertion, that sparkle still in her eyes. Siran was tempted to snap at her and walk away, but managed to only grit his teeth. “What do you want?” he hissed softly.</p><p></p><p>Viktalia was too energized by her performance to notice the icy tone in his voice, and merely tossed her hair back with a laugh. “Wasn’t that spectacular? I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about performing in front of such a demanding crowd, but I think it came out ok, don’t you?”</p><p></p><p>Siran stared at her. <em>She honestly wants my opinion about her performance? How can she? That was the most enthralling thing that any of these men have every seen, surely she knows that?</em> But Viktalia was looking at him expectantly, her hands clasped together, eyes shining. Siran managed a weak smile. “Yeah…it was great. Really…entertaining.”</p><p></p><p>He expected her smile to falter at his lame response, and inwardly prepared to kick himself for spoiling her good mood. Instead, he was shocked as she dipped her head and a tinge of color darkened the skin beneath her cheek fur. “Thank you. Your opinion means a lot to me.”</p><p></p><p>Siran blinked. “It…does?”</p><p></p><p>She laughed again, softly this time. “Of course! After all, you and Visiel here are the only two men on this boat who don’t want to get under my dress.” Her expression sobered. “I really appreciate that. It’s nice to have friends who aren’t nice to me only because they expect to get something in return.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, here,” she continued as Siran continued to stare, reaching for a bottle that hung from her waist. “One of the sailors gave me this.” She handed the bottle to Siran, who uncorked it and took a sniff. “I don’t really like this stuff that much, but I know that you do.”</p><p></p><p>Formorteran brandy. So old that he could smell the cedar barrel that it had been matured in. </p><p></p><p>“From my great uncle’s stock.” Viktalia gave a sly grin. “He’s the only Chirop who aged his brandy in cedar; said it gives the drink a spicier taste.”</p><p></p><p>Siran took a sip and agreed; it was spicy, and it warmed him completely from head to toe. “Thank you.” He managed weakly, before his curious mind got the best of him. “So... what did you tell Cecil there?”</p><p></p><p>“Nothing much,” she said, “I merely told him that he was far too <em>big</em> a man to be stuck on a ship as small as this,” she winked, “and that he should see if the Baron needs him as a captain on <em>his ship.</em>” By her smile, Siran saw that Cecil had evidently taken to the advice as well.</p><p></p><p>“So why didn’t His Incompetence follow you over here? He seemed to be drooling a small river after your song,” Siran asked.</p><p></p><p>“Oh... he tried my first bottle of Formorteran Brandy...” her smirk became a grin. “It was slightly too much for him,” she motioned back towards the hatch, near which the deck was covered with the smashed ruffles of a drunken Cecil.</p><p></p><p><em>Impressive... far better than my solution,</em> Siran said, before giving Viktalia a slight bow. </p><p>Viktalia gave a small bow and smiled up at him, and in her eyes he again saw the foxes’ promise. Lifting her arms, she beat them steadily, and with a twinkling of bells she flew up into the rigging. </p><p></p><p>Siran stared up at her for a moment. Soft notes began to trickle down from above, and he realized that the flying fox was singing again as she stared out to sea. </p><p></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>A troubled heart knows no peace</em></p><p><em>From the dark and poisoned pool</em></p><p><em>Expensive wine and cheap women</em></p><p><em>Are just another of life’s tool</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>You say that the spirit never dies</em></p><p><em>Though the heartbeat may grow dim</em></p><p><em>Live life in every moment</em></p><p><em>And you’ll never regret again</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>When the blazing night of fury</em></p><p><em>Meets the mornings’ shattered wind</em></p><p><em>There the cleric stands</em></p><p><em>And wonders when it ends</em></p><p><em></em></p><p></p><p>He took another sip of the brandy, “Women…” he murmured, and smiled, and silently saluted the singing bard. <em>Madam, you probably saved us quite a bit of bloodshed today...</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 2508016, member: 15043"] Well, here's a pleasant surprise. :) I hadn't expected to update so quickly, but dragnfly, who plays Viktalia, kindly made a rather long writeup, which I've integrated into this post. Its rather easy to tell... she wrote most dealing from Viktalia's performance on, and is an excellent writer on her own merit. :) [b]Mutiny on the [i]Black Joke[/i][/b] “Okay... Rolles, you cut the piece too large!” Siran growled, before looking at the sailor in question. The young man was still learning the ropes of how to be a carpenter aboard ship, and it [i]was[/i] early morning. [i]Patience hasn’t worked yet, maybe putting some fear of the saints into him will![/i] Siran focused his gaze into the fiercest, angriest glare he could create, and folded his arms. “Now, what should we do about this?” “Um... resize it?” the young man said, obviously frightened the display of anger from the ship’s carpenter. [i]Good... now I have his attention...[/i] Siran was about to instruct the hapless fellow on how to resize the replacement rib for one of the water barrels below when his own thoughts were interrupted. “Rapp!” Kaled’s rough-hewn voice rumbled from behind him. In the week they had been at sea, he’d learned to discern when the sharp cracking voice was meant to only grab one’s attention, and when it was used in anger. This time, it was only for attention, and that the noise, all the sailors below decks stood at attention. “Yessir?” Siran stood and turned, before saluting. Kaled was a Lieutenant, and not only that, but an officer he respected. “Rapp, I need to see you for a minute, in my cabin,” Kaled said gruffly, waving Siran to follow. Siran clambered around the crowded lower decks, clambering around cannonballs, powder, barrels and cargo, until he reached the end of the lower deck, and the tiny rooms set aside for the commissioned officers and noncoms. Kaled opened a door at the end, and motioned Siran into his tiny room. It was the largest of the rooms, but only eight by eight feet, tiny and cramped by the standards of anyone used to land. In one corner hung Kaled’s hammock, in the other, sat a small bench. The Lieutenant motioned for Siran to sit down, as he slid into the hammock and began to rock. “Rapp?” Kaled said, twiddling his fingers as he rocked, “you’ve heard some things from the crew over the past week?” [i]Oh no...[/i] Siran thought... [i]word of the rumblings has gotten out. Kaled is surely siding with the captain, and he’ll probably want me to rat out those who want to get rid of Cecil... ...great...[/i] “Um... yes, yes sir I have,” Siran said guardedly. “Things pertaining to the captain?” Kaled pressed harder. “Um... yes...” “And what,” the Lieutenant was suddenly propping himself up, looking Siran in the eyes, “are you planning to do about it?” His eyes flashed, and Siran realized that Kaled knew [i]exactly[/i] what he had heard. [i]Great... he knows. Tread real carefully now, Siran...[/i] “I... I don’t know what to do,” Siran lied. [i]In all honesty, I wouldn’t mind dumping Cecil overboard.[/i] “I only started hearing rumblings of this yesterday... before the sahuagin attack.” At the mention of the party’s heroism, Kaled’s eyes seemed to light up, and he pushed himself upright. “Hmm, well, let me tell you what [i]I’ve[/i] heard,” Kaled said, rubbing his grizzled beard. “[i]I’ve[/i] heard the crew, to a man, say they think that Captain Cecil Daod is a foolish landlubber, who is leading us to our deaths.” Kaled then pushed out of his hammock, then put his hands on his lips. “They say that he shows no respect to the traditions of the sea, and to save us all, he needs to be thrown overboard, to the mercy of Saint Porus and the Seven Winds.” He looked directly at Siran, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. “And I happen to think that they’re right!” [i]They’re right?![/i] Siran’s jaw dropped. Kaled was the last person he’d expect to be a member of a mutinous plot. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, laddie,” Kaled replied, “I have been a sailor long before I’ve been an Imperial officer, and I know the demands and penalties of Saint Porus. So if I need to throw the Captain overboard to save us all... I will. And I am not ashamed to say... I’ll need your help.” “My help?” [i]Me? Why me?[/i] Siran asked. “Yes, your help... and the help of your friends...” Kaled said. “...and since the crew holds us in such high respect, he’s sure that if we sided against Cecil, the crew would be unanimous, and the Captain could be tossed overboard with ease,” Siran hissed a few minutes later. “I told him I didn’t want to speak without talking to you and Visiel first... and he agreed to wait...” Viktalia listened as Siran spoke, and then shook her head. [i]There are so many problems with this... the least of which is simply tossing Cecil overboard... ...and besides, I can think of an alternative...[/i] “I don’t think this course would be wise...” she said finally. “Firstly, the Baron seems fond of Cecil, and it wouldn’t be smart to toss his protege overboard when [i]that[/i] is only a short distance away,” she pointed to the squat, huge hulk of the Baron’s galleon only a half-mile ahead. “Point,” Siran conceded. “And secondly,” Viktalia added, a devilish smile on her lips, “I think I can persuade the Captain to leave the vessel most peaceably...” When Siran pressed, Viktalia refused to divulge any more details. [i]Maybe later today, a performance might be in order...[/i] she thought with a smile to herself. Siran found a seat on the far side of the ring of sailors. Most were chatting excitedly, sharing what knowledge they knew of the Fomorteran dancer. “I heard that she even sang at the Red-Eyed Crow in Erelion!” one said, before his comrade shushed him. “I heard her dancing is covered in magic, that wizards even came out of the room stumbling from the magical deluge!” another whispered. Siran chose to keep his words and opinions to himself; leaning back against the bulkhead, he crossed his arms and stole a glance toward the other side of the ship. At the ship’s bow, Visiel stood staring out to sea, unwavering as a steel pillar. [i]On patrol again,… , and that’s not the only thing he’s good at.[/i] Siran wasn’t the only one whose opinion about the warforged had gone up. [i]Two sahuagin in just a few seconds…he certainly is a hell-of-a fighter[/i] Soft “shhhs” and “ooohs” cut his thoughts short as Kaled and Cecil climbed up from below decks. Siran couldn’t help but give a soft snicker as he saw that Cecil was clad in so many frilly silks that his face could hardly be seen above all the ruffles. [i]That man is deeply infatuated. Poor Viktalia; to have such a stupid oaf lusting after you.[/i] Later that day, Cecil had done yet another heinous act in the eyes of the sailors. [i]Imagine, cutting your hair and nails on the deck, in full view of the men, and then letting them drop into the sea![/i] Siran snorted. Legends spoke that under every man’s pinky St. Porus stored a piece of good luck... to cut off your pinkie fingernail meant releasing all your good luck... The sailor’s rumblings had risen again, and Siran had sworn that he saw several large brutes moving towards Cecil from behind has he did the deed, but Viktalia, who was up in the crow’s nest at the time, had glided down and landed spectacularly amidst the fermenting chaos and announced that that night there was to be a performance to end all performances. With a wink, and a smile, she had then whisked herself away below decks to prepare, leaving the crew distracted and quiet, and people murmuring quietly amongst themselves. “I have heard that she was so popular that she attracted the attention of the great nobles even!” the first whispered again. “Bah! Now you’re making things up!” his neighbor hissed. Finally towards the front, old Kaled cleared his throat, quieting all twenty-three of the assembled crewmen. He stood at the front... it was likely if Cecil had issued an order to shutup, the crew would have merely ignored it. “Tonight,” Kaled’s rough voice echoed over the decks just as the sun blazed red in the coming dusk, “we will be treated to a rare spectacle. Known as the most famous Formorteran dancer throughout the lands, may I present….Viktalia Starwynd!” There was a few moments applause, before all eyes focused on the opening to the hold. Silence reigned within. A minute passed. Two minutes. The men began to fidget and Siran frowned. [i]I know all about making an entrance, but this is not the time to be fashionably late…[/i] A second later, the soft ringing of bells chimed through the air. At its noise, everyone grew silent and still again. From the hold, the rustle of fabric could be heard. Bells chimed again, and above them, a soft crooning filled the night air, the notes ringing true in the air. Siran shuddered silently as the melodious sounds traced down his spine, a similar reaction falling across every man on deck. They all sat taller and straighter, eyes focused, mouths slightly open as the spectacle before them slowly unfolded. The wordless song rose and fell on the evening air as the rustle of fabric grew louder. Then, out of the hold, a shimmer of gold gleamed. Everyone leaned forward as one. The tip of a long black ear rose slowly from the opening; its edges covered in small golden bells. The ear twitched, and a scale of golden notes fell out; matching the notes of the crooning song. Another moment, another rustle, and another ear appeared, twitching in counterpoint to its partner, the notes perfectly matching the song. Siran forced himself to close his mouth and not be hypnotized by the beat of the song. He had forgotten…Viktalia didn’t play an instrument….she [i]was[/i] an instrument. A figure emerged slowly from the darkness below, but all that could be seen was the two ears, the rest of her seemingly covered by a great black velvet cape. Viktalia had her wings opened to their fullest extent, and holding them like two giant fans, they covered her body from head to toe. The figure began to sway along the tune she was singing, ears twitching in purposeful rhythm. The deck was absolutely silent, no one dared move to risk breaking the beauty of the dance. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp. A glimpse of beige fur covering an elegant foot appeared at the bottom of the black winged curtain. Another instant, and more of the foot was visible. In this chanting, swaying way, both legs were revealed so far up that Siran had a sudden thought that Viktalia was naked behind her wings That thought brought a rush of tangled emotions that were quickly banished when her next sway brought a glimpse of black and red fabric into view. Viktalia’s dance began to get more complicated as she revealed more of her body. Bits of gold encircled her calves, also covered in bells, and as she moved her legs, the notes matched her song perfectly. She was revealed up to her waist now, twisting and writhing her body as the song became wilder, stronger. Suddenly, she was singing in a language that could only be Fomorteran. The words shone in the sun’s fading light as much as the bits of gold sown into her dress. Siran was suddenly reminded of a fox he had once seen in his youth. The animal had regarded him with laughing, wild eyes that promised adventure and freedom; the taste of a clear stream, and the joy of running beneath a star-strewn sky. All of the pains and pleasures of life were rolled up into that single promising glance. Viktalia’s song had the same promise. [i]What a life these Fomorterans must lead…[/i] he thought lazily. Viktalia’s dance brought her wings up higher, revealing a dress cut shockingly low, and the beginning of the curve of her neck. Surprisingly, Siran found that wasn’t staring at her cleavage, but at the dark fabric of her wings that hid her face. Another few moments and he was rewarded; the wings peeled back, and the long, strong lines of her fox-like face were revealed, golden eyes closed tight with love of her song, white star shinning in the middle of the dark mask across her forehead. She held her arms up high as the climax of the song rushed over them all, and then faded as the sun sank into the ocean. For a moment, the scene was carved in stone, then as one, the entire crew broke out into screams and cheers. Siran was among them, clapping eagerly and rushing forward, wishing he had some something to give the beautiful dancer, to make her notice him, to make her sing again… Then that thought vanished, and he was himself again; and although the power of her song still clung to the back of his mind, he managed to not rush up close to her as many of the others were doing, offering everything to small pieces of jewelry to carved wooden statues. Cecil outdid them all and produced a box tied closed with a ribbon that contained a dozen [i]fresh[/i], not dried, pears. Viktalia seized one and sunk her teeth into it with a look of pure guilty pleasure. A few moments later, she opened her mouth, and Siran knew she was saying sweet nothings, working her magic, the same magic he’d seen many work over the eons. Siran turned away and went to stand over by Visiel, who had turned from his vigil of the sea to examine the crowd with a slightly annoyed expression. [I]They are loud, and will hide the sound of any enemies’ approach,[/I] “Why do they fawn over her so? I have seen other humans acting the same way around females.” The warforged turned back to the sea after his comment. “Women. The powers they hold.” Siran snorted and also turned his back on the ensemble, his good mood suddenly gone “You’re lucky you’re not human.” [i]One minute you’re the happiest guy in the world, the next you’re a worthless piece of rat feces. To them, we’re just pawns in a game.[/i] He traced the wood grain beneath his fingers absently, thinking morose thoughts about his past experiences with women, when a sudden tap on his shoulders and a warm spicy scent brought his head around. Viktalia stood only a foot away, her fur slightly damp from exertion, that sparkle still in her eyes. Siran was tempted to snap at her and walk away, but managed to only grit his teeth. “What do you want?” he hissed softly. Viktalia was too energized by her performance to notice the icy tone in his voice, and merely tossed her hair back with a laugh. “Wasn’t that spectacular? I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about performing in front of such a demanding crowd, but I think it came out ok, don’t you?” Siran stared at her. [I]She honestly wants my opinion about her performance? How can she? That was the most enthralling thing that any of these men have every seen, surely she knows that?[/I] But Viktalia was looking at him expectantly, her hands clasped together, eyes shining. Siran managed a weak smile. “Yeah…it was great. Really…entertaining.” He expected her smile to falter at his lame response, and inwardly prepared to kick himself for spoiling her good mood. Instead, he was shocked as she dipped her head and a tinge of color darkened the skin beneath her cheek fur. “Thank you. Your opinion means a lot to me.” Siran blinked. “It…does?” She laughed again, softly this time. “Of course! After all, you and Visiel here are the only two men on this boat who don’t want to get under my dress.” Her expression sobered. “I really appreciate that. It’s nice to have friends who aren’t nice to me only because they expect to get something in return.” “Oh, here,” she continued as Siran continued to stare, reaching for a bottle that hung from her waist. “One of the sailors gave me this.” She handed the bottle to Siran, who uncorked it and took a sniff. “I don’t really like this stuff that much, but I know that you do.” Formorteran brandy. So old that he could smell the cedar barrel that it had been matured in. “From my great uncle’s stock.” Viktalia gave a sly grin. “He’s the only Chirop who aged his brandy in cedar; said it gives the drink a spicier taste.” Siran took a sip and agreed; it was spicy, and it warmed him completely from head to toe. “Thank you.” He managed weakly, before his curious mind got the best of him. “So... what did you tell Cecil there?” “Nothing much,” she said, “I merely told him that he was far too [i]big[/i] a man to be stuck on a ship as small as this,” she winked, “and that he should see if the Baron needs him as a captain on [i]his ship.[/i]” By her smile, Siran saw that Cecil had evidently taken to the advice as well. “So why didn’t His Incompetence follow you over here? He seemed to be drooling a small river after your song,” Siran asked. “Oh... he tried my first bottle of Formorteran Brandy...” her smirk became a grin. “It was slightly too much for him,” she motioned back towards the hatch, near which the deck was covered with the smashed ruffles of a drunken Cecil. [i]Impressive... far better than my solution,[/i] Siran said, before giving Viktalia a slight bow. Viktalia gave a small bow and smiled up at him, and in her eyes he again saw the foxes’ promise. Lifting her arms, she beat them steadily, and with a twinkling of bells she flew up into the rigging. Siran stared up at her for a moment. Soft notes began to trickle down from above, and he realized that the flying fox was singing again as she stared out to sea. [I] A troubled heart knows no peace From the dark and poisoned pool Expensive wine and cheap women Are just another of life’s tool You say that the spirit never dies Though the heartbeat may grow dim Live life in every moment And you’ll never regret again When the blazing night of fury Meets the mornings’ shattered wind There the cleric stands And wonders when it ends [/I] He took another sip of the brandy, “Women…” he murmured, and smiled, and silently saluted the singing bard. [i]Madam, you probably saved us quite a bit of bloodshed today...[/i] [/QUOTE]
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