Private Tales “People aren’t cargo, mate.”

[Poppy Rowan]

“All in a day’s work. Good job, men.”

A smirk on her face and a bloody blade held in her hand, surrounded by several other questionable-looking men. This would typically be quite the shocking scene, but this was a rather common sight in Cerak At’Thul. The place was a haven for the worst type of scum, from pirates to slave traders from all around the world. Naturally, most will want to stay well away from this place, but for someone like the Ruby Sparrow, it was a prime spot for targets.

She was standing atop a ship, the body of a pirate captain at her feet with several other dead bodies scattered throughout the ship. Like many others she had hunted here, he was once a pirate before his untimely demise, come to Cerak At’Thul to spend their gold drinking and whoring, and they were doing exactly that. To the Ruby Sparrow, it was a prime time to strike. It wasn’t like she had to worry about being discreet; one of the few advantages to coming here. You could cut someone’s head off and no one would bat an eye.

The Ruby Sparrow was no criminal. In fact, she held nothing for contempt for everything this place stood for. It was a violation of the ideals of freedom she held so dearly, seeing all those slaves being forced into servitude, treated like objects. She wanted nothing more than to slaughter all the slavers there, but she knew this was impossible. Alone, she wouldn’t do anything to the slave trade here. People had brought far greater power to bear on Cerak At’Thul and they didn’t break it, so she highly doubted she stood even a chance.

Maybe in a few years.

Still, she could and would do small blows to it here and there, especially if she had an unusually good opportunity. The pirate band she and her crew had just slain had a fair bounty on their heads, but more importantly, they were the ones indicated by the ex-slaves she had met. It was a chance meeting that led them to each other; same target and all that. A few talks later, and the Ruby Sparrow was off, in search of what was supposedly a figure in the slave trade of a place called Ida-Hurapu. Even if he wasn’t, he still had a bounty, so she didn’t lose much by killing him.

Killing him was the easy part; as expected, he and his crew were drunk off their minds and had taken to dancing on their ship. It was a relatively simple task to dock their ship beside theirs and board it, as was killing everyone there.

“Honestly, you’d think a man with a bounty on his head would operate with a small dose of caution, but it seems their love for rum outweighs their fear of death.” The Ruby Sparrow commented as she cleaned the blood from her sword and sheathed it.

“Not everyone’s as uptight as you, Captain Popsters!” Came the jab from her first mate, the shit eating grin he had could be felt even by someone who wasn’t looking at him.

“Fuck off, Thatcher!” Came the heated reply from the captain.

“Hey, she’s learning! That’s the third swear word I’ve heard you say, Poppy!” This time, the rest of the crew laughed with him, mostly because it was true. Poppy spoke with posh and refined manner, a stark contrast to her crew.

“Will we go to the bar or not?” Poppy asked, rapidly changing the subject to prevent further embarrassment. The cheers of approval from her men was all the indication she needed, and she smiled, “Good. We just need to cut the captain’s head off and put it in a bag. Thatcher, I’m entrusting you with this.” She said, “Aye, aye, Captain.” Came the reply.

---

After that was done and over with, the crew found themselves at the Drowning Wench, their favourite bar in the area. Though Poppy was loathe to stay here for any extended period of time, she knew her crew had to relax, and she did too if she was honest with herself. She did need to keep her drunk crew in check, but that was fine. Poppy had never been much of a drinker anyway, so she was okay with taking care of them.

She was at the bar itself, her crew sitting in various points of the establishment. Thatcher was sat next to her, striking up conversation with some pretty lady he’d found. The seat on the other side of her was empty, and Poppy enjoyed her moment of relative quiet for now, a pint of rum in her hand.

---

BGM

 

[Douglas Haley]

________________

Ships drove through the cresting black waters of Cerak At’Thul, heavy iron rams making quick work of the otherwise harsh waters they treaded. It was the common tactic of pirates, to take faster ships and kill crews, steal or ‘liberate’ whatever was onboard, and generally harm someone else's pocket book in favor of their own. Because of this, the people of Ida-Hurapu considered all pirates as ruffians and lesser beings despite being a very large import and exporter of slaves bred within the city.

Even still, the recent raids on slavers and slave vessels had caused a stir, forcing Sultan Amar to send out what enforcers he could manage to deal with the issue at hand. Amongst them, Douglas; the infamous Kavosh of Belgrath and Elbion, known in a few circles for the murder he had committed of Eimur Emisol and role during the battle beneath the mountain. Today however, he was nothing more than a leader of Immortals, legendary slave warriors raised for many generations within the walls of Ida-Hurapu, and their primary form of protection.

The group took care to separate as they walked to their target supposed position, gotten from the vast beggar network of the city. For just a few coins, they’d tell anyone entering what it was they sought; and today Douglas sought a certain ‘Poppy Rowan’, famous enough in her own right to demand attention. Not that she was very well hidden amongst the pirates, notorious for her red hair and posh demeanor; likely leading to her nickname as The Ruby Sparrow, or so Douglas assumed.

“Enter at an unassuming rate. We don’t want them to get suspicious.”, Douglas offered them before they came within sight of the Drowning Wench, a brothel and bar many of the local crews ended up at after a large haul.

The first four to enter were The Immortals, Baahir and Mu’taz the first to find a place and a drink; their Amol Kalit blades dangling precariously at their hip. It wasn’t uncommon for armed men to end up at the bars, and they stood out no more than any others; but they certainly didn’t seem as happy as those nearby, often their features a stone cold and calculating measure only men of intent held. Douglas entered somewhere in the middle, taking only a moment to notice the harsh contrast of Poppy’s hair.

It was easy to tell now that the report he was offered didn’t speak quite so well of how beautiful the woman was. Her posture seemed noble, her skin unmarked, and her form svelte and well appreciated despite Douglas already understanding she may very well be his enemy in a matter of moments. If it weren’t for her provocative attire, she would have been well received in any of Elbion’s gatherings.

His movements were surprisingly quick as he moved to the bar, motioning for the bartender as he sat next to Poppy. In the time it took for the Bartender to return with his order of spice rum, Douglas had glanced over to Poppy to realize her front didn’t betray her from behind. He spoke quickly, offering as candid of a smile as he could offer as the hood he wore was pulled down.

Poppy would see the iconic witch eyes of the Kavosh, pale things that seemed to reflect ghosts more than a person, but Douglas’s voice seemed inviting despite this;

“Rum, I assume?”, pointing to her drink. A common introduction she was probably used to, though considering the audacity of the region she’d of likely heard more aggressive flirtations before.

Poppy Rowan​

 

[Poppy Rowan]

Poppy Rowan fit the description of the stereotypical pirate, from her raids at sea to her attire. However, no manner of government gave her trouble and she wasn’t at all considered a villain by any save for those who get fixated with her label and lump her in with all the other pirates. This was simply because neither her nor her crew had done anything that would bring harm to innocent people or provoke cities in any way. The only illegal thing she had ever done was pirating slaver ships, and in that sphere, the only people concerned with such acts was the underworld.

Not only was she different in action, she was different in manner as well. Her posture maintained an elegant, refined touch to it, and her speech was posh and eloquent. She was well-educated when compared to most pirates and had a larger vocabulary than most. It could make some wonder where she came from, but her background remained a mystery to almost everyone. She wanted it to be kept that way; she held a certain disdain for her origins.

Her crew, on the other hand, bore the typical makings of pirates. However, even they held a bit more discipline than the average pirate. Poppy enforced discipline and order within her crew; it was only logical, considering the woman’s military background. Though they weren’t on the same level as an experienced soldier, they were more than enough to deal with most of the enemies they’d face. Thatcher especially acted more like the second-in-command of a general than a pirate first mate… when he wasn’t taking the piss out of her, that was. Arsehole.

But a lovable arsehole.

Poppy was shaken from her thoughts by a man occupying the only empty seat next to her, the one on the right. She kept her gaze forward but couldn’t help but notice from the corner of her eye that he was examining her. Was he going to flirt with her? Most of the pirates here certainly did.

---

Though Thatcher appeared to be completely engrossed on wooing the maiden before him, he couldn’t help but notice the speed with which the man had sat next to her, or the fact that the new people didn’t have the disposition of the lowlives that generally marred the view. For now, he wouldn’t do anything, but he’d pay attention and see what this was all about.

---

The man saw fit to start conversation, asking about her drink. Not an uncommon way to start dialogue, but she noted that he did not at all sound like a pirate. Who was he? “Aye. White rum, to be specific. I only drink the stronger types when I’m in a certain mood. That, and I’d rather not get completely drunk before going home.” She answered him, sipping from her cup after doing so. She turned to look at him and… those eyes. A Kavosh. It wasn’t every day she saw one of them, and she would’ve remembered meeting one. This man had piqued her curiosity.

“And who might you be? I feel I would remember someone with features as striking as yours.” She asked him, wording her question more carefully.

---

BGM

 

[Douglas Haley]

________________

For a moment, one of the Immortals glanced to Thatcher as his attention seemed drawn to him. A solid second of staring broke when the Immortal known as Baahir offered Thatcher a quick wink before turning away towards the bar once more. Whatever reason the slave warrior had for it was unknown to all but himself, but it certainly was up in the air if its make Thatcher more comfortable or more on edge.

Douglas however, was for more giving in his emotions, quickly breaking open a smile as the rum was brought before him. Gold from his pocket clinked on the table as he turned to speak to Poppy;

“I prefer spiced myself, nothing quite like a ‘lil fire in your mouth.”, he said with a soft laughter that barely broke over the constant cacophony of the inn, along with a possible flirtation directed at her hair.

“The name is Douglas Haley. Passing through on a voyage from Alliria, so you no doubt wouldn’t remember me considering we’ve never met before. Well, as far as I know.”, he said with a half hearted shrug before downing a portion of the drink.

“What about yourself? Most ‘women’ out here don’t exactly look like you…”, Douglas offered, looking her over once more.

“You look more nobility than sea-wench, excuse my jargon.”

Just outside, a small group formed as fake conversations took place; The Immortals stationed as a 'rear guard' never took their gaze from the inn, their orders to wait for a runner. Every member of her crew had a small price on their head, and the Sultan paid well; each of The Immortals certainly looking for the net worth to buy up another sword or armor set with the earnings.

Poppy Rowan​

 

[Poppy Rowan]

Thatcher was a shrewd man and knew how to observe a target. Still, one of them appeared to have caught his watch, causing momentary pause in the man. What was he going to do? A moment later answered that question, the man winking at him and returning to his business. The man didn’t quite know what to take from this, inwardly frowning. He observed Poppy’s conversation with the stranger from the corner of his eyes even as he focused on the woman he was still in the process of wooing. He didn’t at all look like a pirate or anyone that would come here, and was that… a Kavosh? He couldn’t quite tell just from looking sideways, but…

Something was amiss.

---

Meanwhile, Poppy was conversing with the Kavosh before her, doing some analysis of her own. She had seen the occasional odd figure in Cerak At’Thul, and most had some reason other than getting drunk to be here. Why was it that this man was here? She was curious, especially considering she had never met a Kavosh in her life. This man had to be at least semi-competent with magic to even dare come to a place like Cerak At’Thul.

“One can definitely feel like something more exciting from time to time, yes.” She conceded with a subtle smile that most would consider charming. She knew she was attractive and wasn’t afraid to let others know that she knew.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Haley. I am Ruby Sparrow… that’s not my real name, but I have my reasons for not revealing it just yet.” She introduced herself. Though her reasons stemmed mostly from embarrassment at her real name, she chose to omit that little detail. He needn’t know a thing.

Douglas’ next comment sparked her interest. It was quite accurate, and though she supposed she looked quite out of place among the rest of the scum here, it was still an interesting comment to make. “Is that so? Why, thank you. I do try to look presentable.” She replied with a smile, lightly flipping her hair. She still wondered why he started this conversation. Quite frankly, suspicion was creeping up, but she’d wait for now. He would reveal his intent with time, and it was best she not risk the lives of her men in a needless fight, especially considering the Kavosh reputation for spellcraft.

---

BGM

 

[Douglas Haley]

________________

Lucky for Douglas, Ruby Sparrow was the only name he was given. It was her moniker, what she was known by, and lest it be know Douglas didn’t actually know her real name, this would do just in kind. Afterall, the red hair, the oddly educated speech, she didn’t exactly take a licensed Allirian Investigator to hunt her down, unless he was facing a pretty well done imposter.

Pushing that from his mind, he took on his flirtatious grin once more as he downed a bit more of the spiced rum;

“Presentable is an understatement. You look just a tad bit more intoxicating than my drink.”, he said, motioning with his fingers why just what small amount that was.

“So, tell me, what’s it like down here in Cerak At’Thul; and I mean really like. Maybe if it isn’t so bad, I could think about staying; I’m sure we’d make good… friends.”, Douglas offered, glancing her over as an obvious implication to what ‘friends’ might indicate.

He had his plan set out, and avoiding conflict was the best way to solve these situations. Sure, he could have walked in and killed half those present, but that’d done nothing but serve to scare Cerak At’Thul traders and slavers from doing work with Ida-Hurapu; so no doubt avoiding ‘wanton’ destruction was preferable. Douglas just wasn’t sure yet how receptive the Red Haired Pirate would be to his advanced for a bedroom sashay through the night.

Poppy Rowan​