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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 2764470" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p>I apologize for how slow the updates are becoming... unfortunately, its approaching the end of the semester here, and papers are getting quite nerve-wracking.</p><p></p><p><strong>Leaving Tarnpool, for war.</strong></p><p></p><p>“Alright,” Siran growled, feeling the slimy bowels of the ship beneath his feet, “How did you get these fine cannon!”</p><p></p><p>Since their arrival in harbor, the crew had been busy repairing as much of the damage on the <em>Deathblow</em> and <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> as possible in Tarnpool’s small and poor harbor. Yet even as hammers and nails went into place above rebuilding the ship, Siran was at work below attempting to rebuild the story of why these elves were raiding this town.</p><p></p><p>And, more alarmingly, why these elves had <em>excellent</em> guns and <em>excellent</em> cannon. While pound for pound they were among the best warriors alive, elves weren’t supposed to have <em>any</em> weapons of either sort... they still prized their longbows, the weapons of their pagan god, Corellon Latharian. They were supposed to shun human weapons as ‘unmanly’ and ‘demeaning.’</p><p></p><p>If the elves in general had thrown their silly superstition aside, and seized on the idea of superior technology...</p><p></p><p>“They are our guns!” one of the highest ranking survivors, the ex-quartermaster of the elven ship, spat back, the chains that used to hold his slaves holding him back from doing anything further. “We don’t fear you, human! Take us to the elven embassy, immediately!”</p><p></p><p><em>Fat chance I’ll do that!</em> The elves were also notorious sticklers for diplomatic protocol... if any elf in human lands went amok, the elves immediately demanded his return to their homeland, to ‘face charges.’ Every human who wasn’t an idiot knew that no punishment ever occurred. <em>I guess I’ll just have to persuade them to talk...</em></p><p></p><p>With a snap of his hand, he wrapped his spiked chain around his gloved fist, and before any of the elves could even yell, he smashed the iron mass into the face of the quartermaster. There was a sickening crunch as the man went limp, his face nothing but a mass of bloody gore. When Siran turned back to the other elves, their faces had gone almost ashen white.</p><p></p><p>“The humans gave us the guns!”</p><p></p><p>“Which humans?” Siran asked sharply, before adding, “I don’t believe you.” <em>If you’re lying to me, so help me, I’ll...</em></p><p></p><p>“The ones from Kandor, sir!” the same elf shrieked, shrinking back as far as his chains would allow him. “Kandor! They want us to fight against the other humans with their guns!”</p><p></p><p><em>Kandor hmm?</em> Siran frowned. Kandor, indeed, was at war with the Empire in the sibling spat that had occupied human attentions for so long, and they were known as cutthroats... the ship that had been Kaled’s grave was a Kandoran ship. <em>But to go to a level like this?! Giving our superior weapons to the elves, our common enemy!?</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“So Kandor’s giving the elves guns and cannon,” Viesel rumbled. It made sense in his mind. <em>An enemy of an enemy is my friend... and humans are notorious for recruiting allies from former foes, only to attack former allies.</em> Elves, from his limited experience around them, were the same way. <em>Humans and elves are comrades in more ways than they give themselves credit...</em></p><p></p><p>“So that means the elves are going beyond slavery?” Viktalia asked, her eyes wide. </p><p></p><p><em>Her eyes are always wide. She is a superior officer, but she has the mind of a recruit,</em> Viesel sighed. <em>Time will give her experience. Since she’s full of ambushes, she will become a good veteran someday.</em></p><p></p><p>“To war, it seems,” Siran replied quietly in the dim light of the captain’s cabin aboard the <em>Deathblow</em>. The planks beneath their feet were brand new, as were most of the wall bulkheads and supports. The previous captain, as well as most of his belongings, had been obliterated in the <em>Spotted Pinnace’s</em> broadside. “At least against the Empire, but I haven’t met an elf yet that wasn’t opportunistic. My guess is that they’re going to run far and wide with these new guns and cause as much trouble as they can.”</p><p></p><p>“A good soldier would seize this advantage,” Viesel agreed. <em>Elves are very good soldiers. Disciplined and tough. I do not understand why these humans view them as cowards and ‘pansies,’ to use the Captain’s term.</em> “They will strike hard when they are ready, and if their weakest slave-ship has cannon, their fleets will have cannon too.”</p><p></p><p>The fourth person seated at the table looked downward, worry in her blue eyes. “If the elves are here with armed slavers, I assume they will continue at least that when they head to war.” Rowena looked back up, some steel somewhere in her beautiful eyes. “Someone needs to go to Port Esther, and warn the King that an elven storm is about to descend on us!”</p><p></p><p>Viesel hadn’t known the woman long enough to form an opinion of her, but he found himself nodding. “Port Esther is a base for many salvagers. Therefore it would have many repair docks as well. We could go there and repair this ship with proper equipment while our comrade warns her superiors of the elven...”</p><p></p><p>Yet before Viesel even finished speaking, he saw his Captain staring at Rowena, and he realized he didn’t need to finish his advice. <em>Captain Siran wishes to mate with her... and human males will sometimes do anything to do such things. Even if it is the right choice.</em></p><p></p><p>Viesel let out a deep, throaty snicker.</p><p></p><p>Some minutes later, the warforged watched as Siran and Rowena stood side by side on the bow of the ship, though just as Siran started to move his hands towards her for an embrace, she stepped away and darted to the ship’s side, calling out to someone on-shore. Soon she was clambering off the ship, talking with several town leaders, while Siran stood, rather dejected, at the ship’s bow.</p><p></p><p>“Do you think he’ll ever catch her?” Viesel heard Viktalia’s voice next to him.</p><p></p><p>“I do not know the answer,” Viesel admitted. <em>Humans are too complex in their mating customs. It would be far simpler if they asked one another if mating was appropriate, then mate. They could then devote their time to making things more efficient.</em> He looked down towards his arm. <em>Like creating new warforged equipment I could use.</em></p><p></p><p>“What’s the matter with your arm?” Viktalia suddenly asked. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, I saw you looking at it oddly.”</p><p></p><p><em>She is vigilant,</em> Viesel admitted. “I was merely thinking that if humans used faster, more efficient mating rituals, that they could then devote some time to building new warforged components.” He saw no reason to hide that thought from a superior officer, and was taken aback when Viktalia started laughing.</p><p></p><p>“What is humorous about my statement?” Viesel asked, alarmed. <em>Did I violate a human social code? Was I being upsetting?</em></p><p></p><p>“Ha!” Viktalia tried to breathe, and spoke only with difficulty, “You don’t know how many hapless young men would like it to be ‘more efficient!’” She broke into laughter again, words only coming from her mouth in a sputter. “Every time Siran looks at her, he’s wishing for ‘efficiency’!”</p><p></p><p>“I do not think I will ever understand you, or your humanoid rituals,” Viesel said quietly into the night.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“That can’t be good at all.”</p><p></p><p>“What can’t be good?” Siran asked, looking out across the bow about two weeks later. Sails filled the horizon, as a white sheet, a sign of the hundreds of ships waiting to enter the mammoth harbor of Port Esther. Where Siran saw safety, Viesel had evidently seen something alarming.</p><p></p><p>“That,” Viesel pointed, and Siran’s eyes followed the metallic arm off into the sea of sails. One particular set of sails was darting closer to them with blazing speed, her national flag obscured by the sea of white from her masts.</p><p></p><p>“Someone’s coming to greet us. So?” Siran shrugged. “News probably got here from fishermen and the like that we rescued Tarnpool from slavers. We <em>were</em> stuck there for a week with repairs.” <em>They’re probably going to send us straight to some high ranking person who will shower us with gifts...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>...I hope some of it is alcohol!</em></p><p></p><p>As the ship closed, Siran began to make out her size... she was a frigate, a royal warship.</p><p></p><p>“Hey! They’re sending a frigate towards us! Maybe the royal government sent out someone special to talk to us! Maybe a member of the royal family itself!” he happily pronounced. <em>Otherwise, they’d keep a vessel of this size patrolling the harbor, I would think...</em></p><p></p><p>Sleek and low, the ship screamed an ancestry birthed in war. Gunports crowded her sides, twenty running down each side of her hull. Her trim sides were painted light blue, a slash of navy running down the length of her long gundeck. As she swept down upon them, the white and blue flag of Kubalia snapped from her masts. Siran’s excitement fell, when he noticed all along her navy gundeck, gunports flew open, and the deadly shapes of her forty cannon came into view.</p><p></p><p>“Holy...” he heard Viktalia hiss.</p><p></p><p>“They’re planning to attack us,” Viesel said dryly. “Why, I don’t understand. Perhaps you misunderstood their intentions captain. It appears they are ambushing us.”</p><p></p><p>“We’re screwed,” Siran said to himself, confusion in his mind. <em>Forty guns! At least! A frigate like that could crush us with one broadside! </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Why aren’t they greeting us with palm arms and cheers! We saved one of their towns!</em></p><p></p><p>The large ship drew closer to them, and finally Siran could make out the officers in charge, clad in naval braids and blue uniforms, clustered near the bow of the frigate. One of them took out a speaking trumpet.</p><p></p><p>“Heave to, and prepare for to recieve a longboat!”</p><p></p><p>“This is not good,” Siran said, watching the deadly frigate draw closer, the long black shapes of its many guns studding the length of its hull...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Viktalia sighed as the <em>Deathblow</em> and <em>Spotted Pinnace</em> complied, striking their sails and turning into the wind until they slowed to a crawl. The comparatively massive frigate pulled up between them, dropping anchor to block the two ships from each other. After a few moments, a longboat with only two rowers and a well dressed gentleman left the side of the warship, and slowly came alongside the <em>Deathblow</em>.</p><p></p><p>“This is a rather unusual vessel for a human crew,” the puffish envoy spoke as the longboat touched the side of the <em>Deathblow</em>. Up close, the man did not appear to be overly fat, but instead gave off an air of lethargic laziness as he slowly lumbered up the ladder and onto the ship’s deck. As soon as he was aboard, his eyes slowly took in the ship’s layout, then narrowed.</p><p></p><p>“How <em>exactly</em> did you come into possession of this vessel?” he asked, rather sharply, a tone that took Viktalia aback. </p><p></p><p><em>I thought Kubalia was no friend of the elves... why would anyone be concerned as to where this boat came from? ‘A good elf is a dead elf’ and all that? Something’s not right here...</em></p><p></p><p>“We found it,” Siran replied, crossing his arms. Viktalia groaned.</p><p></p><p><em>THAT didn’t sound dishonest at all!</em> she thought sarcastically, and she flashed an angry look at the captain. <em>We can’t make him angry! He’s an official envoy...</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>...and he has that huge frigate backing him up...</em></p><p></p><p>“Ah... a prize by abandonment,” the official replied, a smirk coming onto his face before he placed his hands behind his back and slowly began to walk to the middle of the deck. “I am <em>sure</em> that the previous owners of this vessel would be delighted to see its return... even if it does appear to have some... damage,” he stopped and looked suspiciously at the hastily repaired mainmast. A brighter section of repairs, roughly the size of a cannonball, stood out against the darker original wood like a sore thumb.</p><p></p><p><em>What is he getting at?</em> Viktalia wondered, watching the official’s eyes look over the ship closely, his gaze latching on every single section of repair. <em>He knows we took this ship from elves... </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>...unless...</em></p><p></p><p>“We’re sure the owners wouldn’t want this vessel back,” Siran darkly said.</p><p></p><p>“Oh... and how so?” the official turned from his inspection and then took on that smirking smile yet again for a moment, before a glower came over his face. “I will have you know, <em>sir</em>, that the Kingdom of Kubalia is <em>not</em> at war with the elven nations, and we cannot tolerate such acts of piracy in our waters!”</p><p></p><p>“Piracy!” Siran started to sputter, before Viktalia raised her hand to his mouth. For a few moments the cleric continued his muffled protests, till Viktalia raised a finger to her mouth and shushed him.</p><p></p><p>“Good sir... pray... what is your name?” she asked sweetly.</p><p></p><p>“Tyral,” the official replied harshly, now looking all too long into the ship’s hold. “Are you the master of this vessel?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Viktalia said quickly, without thinking. She gave a scowl at Siran’s pained expression. <em>I can solve this mess for us... I know what he wants. The elven merchants forced us Formoterans in Cold Harbor to do this many a time. Let me do the talking!</em></p><p></p><p>“From just a glance, captain,” he nodded to Viktalia, “I can see you’re carrying a large quantity of elven wine and Formoteran brandy... goods that should have been reported to the tariff office before you even drew close to the harbor.” He stood up, and looked Viktalia in the eyes. “I’m afraid I’m going to require your ship be escorted into harbor, with yourselves placed in the protection of the Elven Embassy until we can resolve who is the owner of this vessel...”</p><p></p><p>“May I persuade this man to leave us alone?” Viktalia heard Viesel rumble, and quickly the Formoteran shook her head. <em>No... your ‘persuasion’ would result in Tyral having a broken neck at best... something that won’t be good considering that frigate is sitting right next to us...</em></p><p></p><p>“How about I just stick my boot up his elven-loving ass?” Siran hissed... for the moment, Viktalia ignored the comment.</p><p></p><p>“Mr. Tyral, sir. I understand that there appear to be some discrepancies in our arrival and ship, but I am sure that I can explain these to your satisfaction. Would you care to accompany me below, for some wine or brandy, perhaps?”</p><p></p><p>She put into her voice just a tiny bit of musical inflection, a song the same as the chimes in her homeland. She knew her words were dangling, tickling in the wind, and she watched as the envoy’s pupils went a little wider than they were before.</p><p></p><p>“But of course, Madame...”</p><p></p><p>“Viktalia... Viktalia Starwynd,” she bowed politely, using another form of magic far less arcane and no-less effective. “Please... go ahead,” she smiled, motioning towards the cabin as she ignored the furious storm that was Siran’s face. “I shall join you shortly.”</p><p></p><p>“What. Are. You. Doing?” Siran hissed slowly as Tyral disappeared into the captain’s cabin. “This man wants to turn us over to the elves and is openly threatening us, so you invite him into the cabin for chitchat over <em>my liquor?</em>”</p><p></p><p>“I can make him leave us alone,” Viesel offered yet again.</p><p></p><p>“No!” Viktalia hissed. “Can’t you see? He wants a bribe!”</p><p></p><p>“A bribe?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes!” the Formoteran rolled her eyes. “He knows obviously this isn’t our ship, and just by looking at the firepower next to us, if they thought we really <em>were</em> pirates, they wouldn’t have sent over a single official to examine our cargo... that frigate’s crew would be boarding us right now under a hail of fire and a storm of swords!”</p><p></p><p>“So you’re going to give him how much? What if he demands our entire cargo!?” Siran replied.</p><p></p><p>“I can persuade him by means far more effective than Viesel’s...” she started, before Siran’s eyes went wide, then a look of disgust came over his face. When she realized what he was thinking, she became disgusted as well.</p><p></p><p>“No! Not in a million years!” she hissed. “I’m going to get him tipsy, then charm him like I did just now with my music!” She shuddered, images she didn’t want stuck in her mind. “No! Ew! Ew!”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 2764470, member: 15043"] I apologize for how slow the updates are becoming... unfortunately, its approaching the end of the semester here, and papers are getting quite nerve-wracking. [b]Leaving Tarnpool, for war.[/b] “Alright,” Siran growled, feeling the slimy bowels of the ship beneath his feet, “How did you get these fine cannon!” Since their arrival in harbor, the crew had been busy repairing as much of the damage on the [i]Deathblow[/i] and [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] as possible in Tarnpool’s small and poor harbor. Yet even as hammers and nails went into place above rebuilding the ship, Siran was at work below attempting to rebuild the story of why these elves were raiding this town. And, more alarmingly, why these elves had [i]excellent[/i] guns and [i]excellent[/i] cannon. While pound for pound they were among the best warriors alive, elves weren’t supposed to have [i]any[/i] weapons of either sort... they still prized their longbows, the weapons of their pagan god, Corellon Latharian. They were supposed to shun human weapons as ‘unmanly’ and ‘demeaning.’ If the elves in general had thrown their silly superstition aside, and seized on the idea of superior technology... “They are our guns!” one of the highest ranking survivors, the ex-quartermaster of the elven ship, spat back, the chains that used to hold his slaves holding him back from doing anything further. “We don’t fear you, human! Take us to the elven embassy, immediately!” [i]Fat chance I’ll do that![/i] The elves were also notorious sticklers for diplomatic protocol... if any elf in human lands went amok, the elves immediately demanded his return to their homeland, to ‘face charges.’ Every human who wasn’t an idiot knew that no punishment ever occurred. [i]I guess I’ll just have to persuade them to talk...[/i] With a snap of his hand, he wrapped his spiked chain around his gloved fist, and before any of the elves could even yell, he smashed the iron mass into the face of the quartermaster. There was a sickening crunch as the man went limp, his face nothing but a mass of bloody gore. When Siran turned back to the other elves, their faces had gone almost ashen white. “The humans gave us the guns!” “Which humans?” Siran asked sharply, before adding, “I don’t believe you.” [i]If you’re lying to me, so help me, I’ll...[/i] “The ones from Kandor, sir!” the same elf shrieked, shrinking back as far as his chains would allow him. “Kandor! They want us to fight against the other humans with their guns!” [i]Kandor hmm?[/i] Siran frowned. Kandor, indeed, was at war with the Empire in the sibling spat that had occupied human attentions for so long, and they were known as cutthroats... the ship that had been Kaled’s grave was a Kandoran ship. [i]But to go to a level like this?! Giving our superior weapons to the elves, our common enemy!?[/i] “So Kandor’s giving the elves guns and cannon,” Viesel rumbled. It made sense in his mind. [i]An enemy of an enemy is my friend... and humans are notorious for recruiting allies from former foes, only to attack former allies.[/i] Elves, from his limited experience around them, were the same way. [i]Humans and elves are comrades in more ways than they give themselves credit...[/i] “So that means the elves are going beyond slavery?” Viktalia asked, her eyes wide. [i]Her eyes are always wide. She is a superior officer, but she has the mind of a recruit,[/i] Viesel sighed. [i]Time will give her experience. Since she’s full of ambushes, she will become a good veteran someday.[/i] “To war, it seems,” Siran replied quietly in the dim light of the captain’s cabin aboard the [i]Deathblow[/i]. The planks beneath their feet were brand new, as were most of the wall bulkheads and supports. The previous captain, as well as most of his belongings, had been obliterated in the [i]Spotted Pinnace’s[/i] broadside. “At least against the Empire, but I haven’t met an elf yet that wasn’t opportunistic. My guess is that they’re going to run far and wide with these new guns and cause as much trouble as they can.” “A good soldier would seize this advantage,” Viesel agreed. [i]Elves are very good soldiers. Disciplined and tough. I do not understand why these humans view them as cowards and ‘pansies,’ to use the Captain’s term.[/i] “They will strike hard when they are ready, and if their weakest slave-ship has cannon, their fleets will have cannon too.” The fourth person seated at the table looked downward, worry in her blue eyes. “If the elves are here with armed slavers, I assume they will continue at least that when they head to war.” Rowena looked back up, some steel somewhere in her beautiful eyes. “Someone needs to go to Port Esther, and warn the King that an elven storm is about to descend on us!” Viesel hadn’t known the woman long enough to form an opinion of her, but he found himself nodding. “Port Esther is a base for many salvagers. Therefore it would have many repair docks as well. We could go there and repair this ship with proper equipment while our comrade warns her superiors of the elven...” Yet before Viesel even finished speaking, he saw his Captain staring at Rowena, and he realized he didn’t need to finish his advice. [i]Captain Siran wishes to mate with her... and human males will sometimes do anything to do such things. Even if it is the right choice.[/i] Viesel let out a deep, throaty snicker. Some minutes later, the warforged watched as Siran and Rowena stood side by side on the bow of the ship, though just as Siran started to move his hands towards her for an embrace, she stepped away and darted to the ship’s side, calling out to someone on-shore. Soon she was clambering off the ship, talking with several town leaders, while Siran stood, rather dejected, at the ship’s bow. “Do you think he’ll ever catch her?” Viesel heard Viktalia’s voice next to him. “I do not know the answer,” Viesel admitted. [i]Humans are too complex in their mating customs. It would be far simpler if they asked one another if mating was appropriate, then mate. They could then devote their time to making things more efficient.[/i] He looked down towards his arm. [i]Like creating new warforged equipment I could use.[/i] “What’s the matter with your arm?” Viktalia suddenly asked. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, I saw you looking at it oddly.” [i]She is vigilant,[/i] Viesel admitted. “I was merely thinking that if humans used faster, more efficient mating rituals, that they could then devote some time to building new warforged components.” He saw no reason to hide that thought from a superior officer, and was taken aback when Viktalia started laughing. “What is humorous about my statement?” Viesel asked, alarmed. [i]Did I violate a human social code? Was I being upsetting?[/i] “Ha!” Viktalia tried to breathe, and spoke only with difficulty, “You don’t know how many hapless young men would like it to be ‘more efficient!’” She broke into laughter again, words only coming from her mouth in a sputter. “Every time Siran looks at her, he’s wishing for ‘efficiency’!” “I do not think I will ever understand you, or your humanoid rituals,” Viesel said quietly into the night. “That can’t be good at all.” “What can’t be good?” Siran asked, looking out across the bow about two weeks later. Sails filled the horizon, as a white sheet, a sign of the hundreds of ships waiting to enter the mammoth harbor of Port Esther. Where Siran saw safety, Viesel had evidently seen something alarming. “That,” Viesel pointed, and Siran’s eyes followed the metallic arm off into the sea of sails. One particular set of sails was darting closer to them with blazing speed, her national flag obscured by the sea of white from her masts. “Someone’s coming to greet us. So?” Siran shrugged. “News probably got here from fishermen and the like that we rescued Tarnpool from slavers. We [i]were[/i] stuck there for a week with repairs.” [i]They’re probably going to send us straight to some high ranking person who will shower us with gifts... ...I hope some of it is alcohol![/i] As the ship closed, Siran began to make out her size... she was a frigate, a royal warship. “Hey! They’re sending a frigate towards us! Maybe the royal government sent out someone special to talk to us! Maybe a member of the royal family itself!” he happily pronounced. [i]Otherwise, they’d keep a vessel of this size patrolling the harbor, I would think...[/i] Sleek and low, the ship screamed an ancestry birthed in war. Gunports crowded her sides, twenty running down each side of her hull. Her trim sides were painted light blue, a slash of navy running down the length of her long gundeck. As she swept down upon them, the white and blue flag of Kubalia snapped from her masts. Siran’s excitement fell, when he noticed all along her navy gundeck, gunports flew open, and the deadly shapes of her forty cannon came into view. “Holy...” he heard Viktalia hiss. “They’re planning to attack us,” Viesel said dryly. “Why, I don’t understand. Perhaps you misunderstood their intentions captain. It appears they are ambushing us.” “We’re screwed,” Siran said to himself, confusion in his mind. [i]Forty guns! At least! A frigate like that could crush us with one broadside! Why aren’t they greeting us with palm arms and cheers! We saved one of their towns![/i] The large ship drew closer to them, and finally Siran could make out the officers in charge, clad in naval braids and blue uniforms, clustered near the bow of the frigate. One of them took out a speaking trumpet. “Heave to, and prepare for to recieve a longboat!” “This is not good,” Siran said, watching the deadly frigate draw closer, the long black shapes of its many guns studding the length of its hull... Viktalia sighed as the [i]Deathblow[/i] and [i]Spotted Pinnace[/i] complied, striking their sails and turning into the wind until they slowed to a crawl. The comparatively massive frigate pulled up between them, dropping anchor to block the two ships from each other. After a few moments, a longboat with only two rowers and a well dressed gentleman left the side of the warship, and slowly came alongside the [i]Deathblow[/i]. “This is a rather unusual vessel for a human crew,” the puffish envoy spoke as the longboat touched the side of the [i]Deathblow[/i]. Up close, the man did not appear to be overly fat, but instead gave off an air of lethargic laziness as he slowly lumbered up the ladder and onto the ship’s deck. As soon as he was aboard, his eyes slowly took in the ship’s layout, then narrowed. “How [i]exactly[/i] did you come into possession of this vessel?” he asked, rather sharply, a tone that took Viktalia aback. [i]I thought Kubalia was no friend of the elves... why would anyone be concerned as to where this boat came from? ‘A good elf is a dead elf’ and all that? Something’s not right here...[/i] “We found it,” Siran replied, crossing his arms. Viktalia groaned. [i]THAT didn’t sound dishonest at all![/i] she thought sarcastically, and she flashed an angry look at the captain. [i]We can’t make him angry! He’s an official envoy... ...and he has that huge frigate backing him up...[/i] “Ah... a prize by abandonment,” the official replied, a smirk coming onto his face before he placed his hands behind his back and slowly began to walk to the middle of the deck. “I am [i]sure[/i] that the previous owners of this vessel would be delighted to see its return... even if it does appear to have some... damage,” he stopped and looked suspiciously at the hastily repaired mainmast. A brighter section of repairs, roughly the size of a cannonball, stood out against the darker original wood like a sore thumb. [i]What is he getting at?[/i] Viktalia wondered, watching the official’s eyes look over the ship closely, his gaze latching on every single section of repair. [i]He knows we took this ship from elves... ...unless...[/i] “We’re sure the owners wouldn’t want this vessel back,” Siran darkly said. “Oh... and how so?” the official turned from his inspection and then took on that smirking smile yet again for a moment, before a glower came over his face. “I will have you know, [i]sir[/i], that the Kingdom of Kubalia is [i]not[/i] at war with the elven nations, and we cannot tolerate such acts of piracy in our waters!” “Piracy!” Siran started to sputter, before Viktalia raised her hand to his mouth. For a few moments the cleric continued his muffled protests, till Viktalia raised a finger to her mouth and shushed him. “Good sir... pray... what is your name?” she asked sweetly. “Tyral,” the official replied harshly, now looking all too long into the ship’s hold. “Are you the master of this vessel?” “Yes,” Viktalia said quickly, without thinking. She gave a scowl at Siran’s pained expression. [i]I can solve this mess for us... I know what he wants. The elven merchants forced us Formoterans in Cold Harbor to do this many a time. Let me do the talking![/i] “From just a glance, captain,” he nodded to Viktalia, “I can see you’re carrying a large quantity of elven wine and Formoteran brandy... goods that should have been reported to the tariff office before you even drew close to the harbor.” He stood up, and looked Viktalia in the eyes. “I’m afraid I’m going to require your ship be escorted into harbor, with yourselves placed in the protection of the Elven Embassy until we can resolve who is the owner of this vessel...” “May I persuade this man to leave us alone?” Viktalia heard Viesel rumble, and quickly the Formoteran shook her head. [i]No... your ‘persuasion’ would result in Tyral having a broken neck at best... something that won’t be good considering that frigate is sitting right next to us...[/i] “How about I just stick my boot up his elven-loving ass?” Siran hissed... for the moment, Viktalia ignored the comment. “Mr. Tyral, sir. I understand that there appear to be some discrepancies in our arrival and ship, but I am sure that I can explain these to your satisfaction. Would you care to accompany me below, for some wine or brandy, perhaps?” She put into her voice just a tiny bit of musical inflection, a song the same as the chimes in her homeland. She knew her words were dangling, tickling in the wind, and she watched as the envoy’s pupils went a little wider than they were before. “But of course, Madame...” “Viktalia... Viktalia Starwynd,” she bowed politely, using another form of magic far less arcane and no-less effective. “Please... go ahead,” she smiled, motioning towards the cabin as she ignored the furious storm that was Siran’s face. “I shall join you shortly.” “What. Are. You. Doing?” Siran hissed slowly as Tyral disappeared into the captain’s cabin. “This man wants to turn us over to the elves and is openly threatening us, so you invite him into the cabin for chitchat over [i]my liquor?[/i]” “I can make him leave us alone,” Viesel offered yet again. “No!” Viktalia hissed. “Can’t you see? He wants a bribe!” “A bribe?” “Yes!” the Formoteran rolled her eyes. “He knows obviously this isn’t our ship, and just by looking at the firepower next to us, if they thought we really [i]were[/i] pirates, they wouldn’t have sent over a single official to examine our cargo... that frigate’s crew would be boarding us right now under a hail of fire and a storm of swords!” “So you’re going to give him how much? What if he demands our entire cargo!?” Siran replied. “I can persuade him by means far more effective than Viesel’s...” she started, before Siran’s eyes went wide, then a look of disgust came over his face. When she realized what he was thinking, she became disgusted as well. “No! Not in a million years!” she hissed. “I’m going to get him tipsy, then charm him like I did just now with my music!” She shuddered, images she didn’t want stuck in her mind. “No! Ew! Ew!” [/QUOTE]
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High Seas Shenanigans (Updated: 12/04/05)
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