Fable - Ask Bards and Buccaneers

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first

Zarra Bundyth

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Zarra was not having fun. Sure she understood perfectly well that she as a drow was hated by basically everyone, and for good reason. But still, did they have to hit that hard?

She'd long gotten over her initial seasickness, as they'd now been on a ship for nearly two weeks. But she was far from comfy. But she was rare merchandise and got slightly better treatment, that was something at least.

These slavers were nothing like the drow, they didn't want workers straight off the bat, they kept their slaves fed, at least well enough to not die. And so far the only beating she'd received was the one to her head when they caught her, leaving behind a small welt and a lingering throb that still bothered her, but other than that she was unharmed.

They'd taken her rapier, obviously, and her viol, which was a bummer. But then again, that was probably the least of her worries. Since she was currently leashed to the hull if the ship.

When she was caught, they took some serious precautions, one being a magic-nullifying iron collar that locked snugly around her neck. Luckily for her it had some kind of liner to avoid chafing. Her hands were also cuffed behind her, so eating had been less than dignified.

But just as she was starting to truly dread what they had in store, there was a spike in activity up on the deck, and what sounded like a call to arms. Maybe her luck had changed?

Vulpesen
 
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Vulpesen's ears pricked at the sound of the bosun whistle, moving beneath their glamour to catch the sound. It was one of the hardest things for him to get used to at sea, learning not to jump at the high pitched noise despite his sensitive hearing. Still, appearances had to be kept if he was to keep his fellow seamen believing that he was a simple elf. Two more shrill blasts followed the first and revealed a toothy grin, his hand moving to the rapier at his waist.

It was the call to arms, to ready swords, axes, and hooks. Pirate hunters were among his favorite ships to board, always promising adventure, and action with never a dull moment as eyes watched the horizon for the tell tale signs of an illicit brig like the one that was giving up its escape before them. From his perch on the foremast's highest spar Vulpesen could see the men on the deck scrambling for their own weapons, each one a motley assortment of steel that had been scrounged up by past conquest. Still, he knew better than to judge such men by their arms and clothes. Every bit of equipment had likely been earned by blood and sweat.

"Alright boys, pull the loops and hold fast! We don't want to go sailing off once we catch her, but we do want to catch her. Keep the sails taught 'til I say!" Following his own advice, Vulpesen pulled on a rope at his side, undoing a knot that held the line to the mast beside him. He felt the lurch as the wind tried to pull him with the rope but he held firm, keeping his grip. It was a tricky rigging he had made, but one that would serve its purpose well enough for a quick raise and drop of the sails. Already, his hands were dancing among the coil, making a new knot for the next stage. It wouldn't be long now, and he wouldn't have any time to waste if he wanted in on the action.

"I'd guess thirty seconds cap'n!" He shouted over the wind around him and noise on the deck below him. Thirty seconds before all hell broke loose. Thirty seconds before he did what he was born to do.

Zarra Bundyth
 
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The slavers themselves were much as he'd thought, not your typical bash and whacker maniacs with no sense of form or order, but rather skilled fighters in their own right. Maybe not professional soldiers but they were a cut above the average bloke to be sure.

They, instead of a boatswain's whistle use a horn, a horn that blared across the distance. Signaling that they were done running. They were slavers, they attacked ships at sea just as often as caravans and villages on land, they were predators not prey, and it was time to hunt.

The crew already armed were busy loading what looked to be miniature ballistae, loaded with their own grappling hooks, and ready to fire.

As soon as they were facing a full broadside, both ships launched their grapples. No more running now, from either side.
 
The clack and mechanical crank of ballistae releasing their payload sounded in his ears as hooks sailed through the air, creating a web between the ships as each side committed themselves to the fight to come. "Alright lads! Get on with it!" The warlock called to the swabs under his command. Leaping from the spar, he descended down. The rope in his hand had been looped beneath the sail and up to his hands, and now as he descended with others long the masts, each sail found itself curled and crumpled by the ropes. It was an ugly sight to be sure, but certainly effective in removing wind as a factor.

Grunting as the line went taught, his feet just above the deck, he let the stop rob him of momentum before he crashed onto the wood below, rolling to keep his legs intact. Let the fun begin, he thought, his sword leaving its scabbard to gleam in the evening sun. Each side roared their challenge as the ships drew near and Vulpesen was no different, a challenging howl ripping from his lungs as he locked eyes with his quarry across the ropes.

The vessels lurched as they finally collided, brought together by the array of grapples and ropes that each side hand thrown, though the sound of splintering wood was drowned out by the crash of boots and steel as men roared and leaped into action. Vulpesen himself dove headfirst into the fray, his role on the ship no longer needed as he took to the fight, his blade dancing to swiftly meet the onslaught of his first opponent. A wide smile broke across his features as adrenaline surged through his system. In times like this, even when Veradune couldn't be farther away, he felt at home.
 
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The sudden lurch threw poor Zarra forward, and with nothing to stop her but the collar she was suddenly stopped by it and the chain that linked it to the hull. To say it was an uncomfortable experience was to put it lightly, she found herself struggling to breathe for the next couple of minutes, but after that she noticed that when the hull cracked and groaned as the wood strained, the bolt holding her to the wall had loosened, even more so now that she had been thrown against it. Not enough to free herself, but since her collar had been magically locked, most likely it would be the way to get free until a skilled magic user came along to help her out of it.

Back on the deck, or decks rather, the skirmish raged, with the slavers fighting quite bravely, a number of men died, which side lost more was unknown but after a good few minutes of fighting, the balance of power tipped in the Pirate Hunters' favour, and the Slaver numbers began to dwindle.

Vulpesen would spy the Slaver captain going into his cabin, probably to destroy maps and documents detailing hideouts and forts. Unless he got there quickly, they would only be able to liberate the slaves on the ship, and would have to search for much longer to find out about any Slaver outposts they may be looking for.
 
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Ribbons of red followed Vulpesen as he maneuvered around the deck, his left hand now holding on of his daggers to aid in the dangers of close quarters combat. Each step he took was driven by a purpose, and eventually, he would find his quarry. In every fight, he preferred to take upon himself the mission of cutting the head off the snake, and the sight of a ship's captain was unmistakable, especially when they headed for their valuables. "Not so fast," the zorren growled, kicking his current foe into the crowd of swords and axes around him.

Leaning forward, Vulpesen raced after the man, his sword darting out to disable any foe who challenged him on his way. The weapon was honed and quick in his hands, skills perfected in decades of warfare. Slipping through the crowd like water on the deck, Vulpesen wouldn't find it particularly hard to reach the captain, announcing his presence by a dagger which soared through the air before thudding solidly into the frame of the door just by his head. "Surrender now and we may consider going easy on ya!"

Zarra Bundyth
 
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Slipping through the crowd like water on the deck, Vulpesen wouldn't find it particularly hard to reach the captain, announcing his presence by a dagger which soared through the air before thudding solidly into the frame of the door just by his head. "Surrender now and we may consider going easy on ya!"

The captain was a cut above the rest, using a saber rather than a rapier or epee, but just as quick and just as suited to duelling. He wore rather well-made leather armour reinforced with iron scales, enough to blunt the strike of an axe, but not enough to make him invulnerable, not by any stretch.

He replied with the words, "funny." He drew his saber. "I was about to make you the same offer."

This would not be an easy fight, not at all.
 
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Vulpesen's golden eyes locked on the captain's weapon as he flourished his own, testing the well known balance as he always did before he crossed blades with a tougher opponent. A saber would be a shorter blade with an emphasis on cutting. Better for close quarters, but not narrow spaces. A corridor might have favored the hunter, but as they seemed to be moving into a small room, Vulpesen felt a swell of relief that four more daggers rested at his waist to replace the one lodged in the threshold.

"Ain't we the gentlemen,"
he offered, lifting his blade to point the long steel at the pirate's chest. Slowly, Vulpesen advanced on the man before him, his grip relaxed but firm to keep his wrist mobile. It took some skill to use a weapon as lengthy as a rapier in such a place at this, but it was by no means a foreign concept to Vulpesen. He'd done it enough that it came as second nature. For now, he simply focused on testing his prey's abilities, marching his weapon ever closer to see the reactions to the threat.

Zarra Bundyth
 
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we the gentlemen," he offered, lifting his blade to point the long steel at the pirate's chest. Slowly, Vulpesen advanced on the man before him, his grip relaxed but firm to keep his wrist mobile. It took some skill to use a weapon as lengthy as a rapier in such a place at this, but it was by no means a foreign concept to Vulpesen. He'd done it enough that it came as second nature. For now, he simply focused on testing his prey's abilities, marching his weapon ever closer to see the reactions to the threat.

Overall, they seemed to be on even ground. In a confined room the rapier would have a bit of trouble, since the long sword, while still very useful, needed to be kept at a certain range to really be useful, this was not the case for the same, so he could get close enough to strike while making it harder for Vulpesen to do the same. This was partially counteracted by his stash of daggers, but the point still stood, to a point (pun intended.)

So they came into the room, with the captain retreating into it and leading the hunter in, he might still be able to accomplish his goal, even while dealing with this obstacle.

The captain reacted by keeping his sword at least somewhat crossed with the rapier, and pushing it out the closer it got, taking advantage of his opponent's caution he rapidly pushed the rapier out, while at the same time angling his own saber so that it's tip was level with Vulpesen's face and stepped in for a stab.
 
Vulpesen's blade slid up and down the saber as they entered the bind as he took each step at a measured pace. His eyes flicked between his opponent's face and the blade, searching for any signs of movement. It was a lethal dance, but a familiar one.

When the moment came, he felt it before he saw it, the weight of the shifting saber pushing his sword outwards in its bid to pierce his face. An unusual tactic for the saber, but still one that the warlock had trained against. Sweeping his arm across his body, Vulpesen brought his blade to a horizontal position and shot it upwards, intending to deflect the saber over his head while his legs carried him in to close the distance. Even if his sword was made for the longer range, that didn't mean that the saber would be much more useful when they were body to body.

Reaching down, Vulpesen snatched a dagger from his waist, though without time to bring it to bear, he went for a more unorthodox tactic, darting his head forward with his body to deliver a strike against the captain's nose by way of his forehead. Perhaps not a lethal blow, but it would certainly give his foe something to think about while Vulpesen situated himself to push his advantage.

Zarra Bundyth
 
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The Slaver captain was no fool. And as the distance closed, he pushed his first forward to punch him in the face with his saber's knuckle guard. Not exactly pleasant either. This would, even if it was less efficient than it was intended to be, would prevent his headbutt from connecting with it's target.

He wasn't blind to the dagger being drawn either, but he had a slightly more straightforward solution to this particular problem, a grapple. Now when people think of grappling they usually think of a wrestling match, which isn't completely accurate, though grappling can easily be a wrestling match, in the context of a swordfight, it usually means grabbing the wrist or weapon of one's opponent to control his defense.

So the Slaver Captain reached behind the back of his weapon to grab his opponent's wrist, freeing his sword to come around underneath this and cut across at Vulpesen's gut. Of course, the dagger could prove useful in stopping this from happening, but it was the Captain's intent to cut open his opponent's midsection before the dagger could be used offensively or defensively.
 
The time it took to redirect from a strike to a guard punch would be too much to gain any sort of useful momentum, though it did succeed in at least making Vulpesen slam his head into metal rather than his enemy's skull. It wasn't comfortable, but it was more disheartening than discomboulating.

The iron grip didn't go unnoticed on his wrist, nor did the sound of slithering steel as the captain attempted to draw his blade across the warlock's stomach. Acting in a similar fashion, Vulpesen would drop his weapon and shoot a hand down to grasp his foe's wrist. The rapier was left to clatter uselessly to the ground, but that would likely be at the bottom of the captain's new list of concerns.

The moment Vulpesen's fingers closed around the man's wrist, one simple but frightening truth would be revealed... he was not an elf. Rather than well manicured nails, sharp dagger like claws would dig deep into flesh. As Vulpesen's locked his golden glowing eyes on the captains, he would let out a snarl which revealed two sharp fangs which glistened in the candle light of the cabin. His hold, unlike the captain's, wasn't just one to immobilize, but also to dig into and tear apart the tendons that held his grip together. Such was the terror of fighting a Zorren in close quarters. Sure it might damage Vulpesen's use of the shadows to reveal his true nature, but they rarely came to use at sea anyways. All the while as he assaulted the captain's senses and wrist, Vulpesen would lower his dagger hand down to leg level where hopefully a well-driven knee cap would send the blade into his enemy's thigh.

Zarra Bundyth
 
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The moment Vulpesen's fingers closed around the man's wrist, one simple but frightening truth would be revealed... he was not an elf. Rather than well manicured nails, sharp dagger like claws would dig deep into flesh. As Vulpesen's locked his golden glowing eyes on the captains, he would let out a snarl which revealed two sharp fangs which glistened in the candle light of the cabin. His hold, unlike the captain's, wasn't just one to immobilize, but also to dig into and tear apart the tendons that held his grip together. Such was the terror of fighting a Zorren in close quarters. Sure it might damage Vulpesen's use of the shadows to reveal his true nature, but they rarely came to use at sea anyways. All the while as he assaulted the captain's senses and wrist, Vulpesen would lower his dagger hand down to leg level where hopefully a well-driven knee cap would send the blade into his enemy's thigh.

The claws made him cry out in sudden pain, but even so he didn't let go of his opponent's wrist. However, it seems that each man's strength was roughly equal to his opponent's and without proper leverage neither could move the other to a more favorable position, so the advantage belonged to Vulpesen and his claws. That is until he put his dagger attack into action. The blade sank into the captain's flesh, and he let out a pained shout at the sudden agony of having his tendons severed.

He fell back, landing directly onto the table, and a sharp snap could be heard. He didn't cry out again, so he likely didn't break anything, but something broke, definitely. He, knowing he'd been beaten seized the lantern on his desk and smashed it against the table to burn the charts with information on their outpost locations. He'd keep that information safe.

(Hey, do you incorporate dice at all in any of your RPs?)
 
As the captain fell back, Vulpesen pressed his advantage. His claws sank deeper into the wrist, tearing and slashing at tendons to sever the man's grip strength. The sooner the captain was weaponless, the better. However, a sudden crash took Vulpesen's attention and he looked up in horror to see flames racing towards his true prize.

Launching himself from the pirate, Vulpesen extended a hand and focused on the well of magic within him, extending it out from his palm. Wind magic, unfortunately was one of his least trained skills as of yet, but there were some basics he had picked up over time. A gust blew out from his hand over the desk. That which had already taken flame was likely lost, but with any luck, he would be able to scatter and save some of the other pages.

"For your sake, you'd best have a good memory,"
The zorren growled as he plucked another pair of daggers from their sheathes, having left his previous weapon imbedded in the captain's thigh. Anger flared in Vulpesen's eyes as he flicked his tail behind himself, the furred appendage now visible with the dissolution of his illusion.

Zarra Bundyth

(Not really. I don't like the idea of it all being luck since we don't exactly have modifiers.)
 
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(Not really. I don't like the idea of it all being luck since we don't exactly have modifiers.)

(I do it for things that have to do with luck. So, the thing you heard snap, was the key to her collar XD, cause I rolled a 1. So you'll have to break the chain but it might be a while before it comes off. That kind of thing I don't think is that bad.)

"For your sake, you'd best have a good memory," The zorren growled as he plucked another pair of daggers from their sheathes, having left his previous weapon imbedded in the captain's thigh. Anger flared in Vulpesen's eyes as he flicked his tail behind himself, the furred appendage now visible with the dissolution of his illusion.

"For my sake, I had better not." He replied, and without another word, wrenched the dagger from his leg and shoved it into his skull, under the chin and up into his brain. Instant death, no information from him. And by now the entire slaver crew had been slaughtered, their refusal to surrender resulting in the total annihilation of their numbers. Now the only living beings on the ship were the slaves holed up below.

Speaking of the slaves, much of the Pirate Hunter crew had gone belowdecks to help free them. Mostly it's rudimentary shackles, either leather straps or simple iron ones secured by bolts that could be undone by anyone not wearing them. But near the stern was a section separate from the hold where most of them were kept. Inside most were secured a little more... securely. Rare species or high-value individuals were here. A few lords/ladies or their children, a couple elves, a Khavosh woman and of course, Zarra the drow.

Most were freed easily, as the keys were kept in a small lockbox hidden under the stairs leading down to the hold, but not Zarra's key. No, the captain had taken that one, since she was, by far, the rarest merchandise he'd ever gotten ahold of, and consequently, they didn't have the key to her collar. But, they did manage to get the chain free using a prybar, so at least she wouldn't be lugging a chain around for the foreseeable future.
 
As the captain fell back, Vulpesen pressed his advantage. His claws sank deeper into the wrist, tearing and slashing at tendons to sever the man's grip strength. The sooner the captain was weaponless, the better. However, a sudden crash took Vulpesen's attention and he looked up in horror to see flames racing towards his true prize.

Launching himself from the pirate, Vulpesen extended a hand and focused on the well of magic within him, extending it out from his palm. Wind magic, unfortunately was one of his least trained skills as of yet, but there were some basics he had picked up over time. A gust blew out from his hand over the desk. That which had already taken flame was likely lost, but with any luck, he would be able to scatter and save some of the other pages.

"For your sake, you'd best have a good memory," The zorren growled as he plucked another pair of daggers from their sheathes, having left his previous weapon imbedded in the captain's thigh. Anger flared in Vulpesen's eyes as he flicked his tail behind himself, the furred appendage now visible with the dissolution of his illusion.

Zarra Bundyth

(Not really. I don't like the idea of it all being luck since we don't exactly have modifiers.)

(Boop)
 
Vulpesen's hand shot out to stop the captain's hand, only to find himself too slow and far too surprised to stop him from inflicting the mortal wound. With a frustrated growl, Vulpesen lashed his tail and threw down his remaining daggers. So much for interrogation. Still, there was some brightness in the gloom. As the captain exhaled his final breath, the Zorren felt a rush of power flow through him, the shadows returning as his secret was restored.

Quick to act, he ran over and grabbed the corpse, grunting as he heaved it over the flames and smothered them by rolling the carcass. Perhaps it wasn't terrible respectful for a fallen foe, but he never had much respect for slavers in the first place.

A couple of minutes later, Vulpesen emerged from the cabin, glamoured once more and holding the charred remains of what papers he could save from the blaze, the remains of the captain's keys, and a few valuable bobbles he had found while searching the body. Handing the documents to the captain of his own vessel, he was about to inquire as to the use of the key when he caught eyes of the locked collar around the drow woman's neck. Of course, it was far less difficult to put the clue together than it was to place back the broken pieces in his hand.

"Bring her here,"
he called, motioning to those that were guiding her back towards the safety of the allied brig. "I think I've got a plan for that necklace of hers. Unless of course you enjoy the fashion statement, miss." His bright golden eyes turned to her as he quipped his final words, affecting a kind smile despite the blood that stained his person.

(Sorry, took a brief and unexpected hiatus from posting. Hopefully I'm be back to regular responses)

Zarra Bundyth
 
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"Bring her here," he called, motioning to those that were guiding her back towards the safety of the allied brig. "I think I've got a plan for that necklace of hers. Unless of course you enjoy the fashion statement, miss." His bright golden eyes turned to her as he quipped his final words, affecting a kind smile despite the blood that stained his person.

She heard the words and gave him a grateful smile as she was lead over by one of the crew. "It's very appreciated sir, thanks."

She'd seen women wear items that were basically collars, of various materials, some leather, some cloth, some lace and some of metal. Either to be marked as property or as a fashion statement. She hadn't really understood it at first, though this wasn't the first time she'd been put in a collar, so it's not like it was uncomfortable to wear, but what it told people was still a little unwelcome so if he had a solution, that was wonderful.

"Thank you, I know I should say this to everyone, but thank you for coming to get us. Whether by chance or intent, thanks."

She'd tilt her head back if ever he should reach for her collar to give him easy access to it. "What's your name sir?"

(No fret. Just thought I'd check on ya :) )
 
"A little bit of both I think," he offered. Lifting the remains of the captain's keys to his eyes, Vulpesen settled his other hand on the keyhole and began to focus. His eyes flashed and their golden shine brightened as magic poured through him to affect the shadows beneath his palm. Inwardly, the warlock couldn't help but smirk as he thought of all the times this little trick would have helped him in his previous life. "Vulpesen Torrevaso miss, and you are?"

A few seconds later, after adjusting the shape of the darkness to his desires, he would twist his wrist to the side, causing an audible clank as the tumbler rolled and the pins set into place. "That should do the trick," he chirped his cloak briefly flapping behind him while his eyes dimmed to an emberesque glow.

Around him, he could hear the heavy thud and clanks of chains being broken and cut around collars. No doubt it would be a busy night as he repeated his little parlor trick ad nauseum, so he was thankful for the few moments that his current charge could offer away from the future labors.

Zarra Bundyth
 
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"A little bit of both I think," he offered. Lifting the remains of the captain's keys to his eyes, Vulpesen settled his other hand on the keyhole and began to focus. His eyes flashed and their golden shine brightened as magic poured through him to affect the shadows beneath his palm. Inwardly, the warlock couldn't help but smirk as he thought of all the times this little trick would have helped him in his previous life. "Vulpesen Torrevaso miss, and you are?"

"Zarra Bundyth." She told him. "I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say we appreciate this very much. Tell me, do you have need of any extra crew-members? I may not know much about ships but I'm a quick learner, and I'm not completely atrocious with a sword. Maybe I could help you out, as a way of thanks."

Around him, he could hear the heavy thud and clanks of chains being broken and cut around collars. No doubt it would be a busy night as he repeated his little parlor trick ad nauseum, so he was thankful for the few moments that his current charge could offer away from the future labors.

Zarra had been left alone and she asked the rescuing crew how she might help out, and when she was given her assignment she got to work. And when that was done, she went about helping wherever it was she could.

And somewhere along the way she was lucky enough to find her viol in its case. Completely intact and with its bow.
 
"A pleasure to meet you miss Bundyth, although it may not be the most pleasurable of circumstances." He request for a place to work brought a wide smile to his face and he tilted his head in the direction of his captain who stood upon the deck, pointing and and giving out orders to settle the post-battle chaos. "If you want to help, go along and speak with him. I'm sure he can find something, and if you're any good with heights and knots, you're free to join me and the riggers."

With the bards exit from his presence, Vulpesen set about moving to the other slaves, picking each lock with the same trick he had used on her. Once those were finished, it would be any lock boxes that the enemy crew had kept aboard, then finally he would return to their own vessel where the sails would be dropped while the slavers transport was scuttled and sent into the deeps.

"Look alive, lads! Its been a good day, now lets hope that we keep ourselves a fair wind. Keep an eye out for trouble. You never know when these bastards have friends on the waves!"


Zarra Bundyth
 
"A pleasure to meet you miss Bundyth, although it may not be the most pleasurable of circumstances." He request for a place to work brought a wide smile to his face and he tilted his head in the direction of his captain who stood upon the deck, pointing and and giving out orders to settle the post-battle chaos. "If you want to help, go along and speak with him. I'm sure he can find something, and if you're any good with heights and knots, you're free to join me and the riggers."

"Good circumstances or bad, I'm equally pleased to meet you Sir Torrevaso." She said with a glad smile. She looked towards the captain he gestured towards and nodded. "I'm afraid my knowledge of knots is limited, I haven't much experience with ropes. Though I'm eager to learn."

With the bards exit from his presence, Vulpesen set about moving to the other slaves, picking each lock with the same trick he had used on her. Once those were finished, it would be any lock boxes that the enemy crew had kept aboard, then finally he would return to their own vessel where the sails would be dropped while the slavers transport was scuttled and sent into the deeps.

"Look alive, lads! Its been a good day, now lets hope that we keep ourselves a fair wind. Keep an eye out for trouble. You never know when these bastards have friends on the waves!"

Zarra had gone to the captain, and after carrying out the orders given to her she went about helping however she might. And when the Slaver ship was scuttled she was a tad surprised to find that their boat was tugged closer to it by a vacuum of water centered on the sinking ship. An odd detail, she'd be sure to ask about it later.

She went back to the captain to see if she might help in some other way.
 
At the honorific, the Zorren found himself torn between two responses. 'Lord, actually' and 'Just Torrevaso will do.' Such was the life of a man who had lived in two worlds. Deciding to split the difference he simply offered a polite nod before heading off to his other work.

As their vessel took sail on the open seas, Vulpesen crouched on the topsail yard. His golden eyes moved from swab to swab observing the goings on of each man under his command. Eventually, his gaze would move to a cascade of white hair atop a dark form, Zarra approaching the captain to ask for a place upon the ship. While his ears were sharp enough to hear the voices, words were hopeless amongst the winds. Given the captain's rush, his response to the woman's question was brief and the rigger was able to see the man wave Zarra off towards the mast.

"Wonderful,"
Vulpesen muttered with no small amount of sarcasm. He had nothing against the drow, and indeed she seemed a wonderful addition to their crew, even on a temporary basis. But a swab under his command needed to know their knots. He took pride in his work and expected the same of every knot he examined. To this end, the galley was often a better place fit for those without experience on the deck. Far easier to wash a pot than to learn a reef knot.

Wrapping a line around his leg, Vulpesen dropped off the yard, the friction of rope on his trousers slowing his descent until he hung upside down in front of Zarra. "Looks like you're one of mine after all. Do you at least know a bowline or some basic hitches?"

Zarra Bundyth
 
Wrapping a line around his leg, Vulpesen dropped off the yard, the friction of rope on his trousers slowing his descent until he hung upside down in front of Zarra. "Looks like you're one of mine after all. Do you at least know a bowline or some basic hitches?"

"One or two in case I need to replace some strings on my viol, so I'm not totally useless at knots, but I don't know any nautical ones. The bowline I know, but other than that it's only one or two."

She was eager to learn, and she payed close attention to all that he taught her, she wasn't the fastest learner but she wasn't especially slow. She got down the basic knots within an hour, and would follow orders to the letter as directed. She was eager to please as it seemed, and was very receptive to directions. Whether or not he knew this, this was very strange for a drow woman.

"So what exactly are you guys? Mercenaries?"
 
Vulpesen thought for a moment on her answer. At the very least, she wasn't completely useless and could likely stop herself from falling to her death from they yard if he needed a hand in an emergency. Certainly her honestly on the lack of experience was also a large bonus. He hated men who came aboard and placed their fellow riggers at risk for the sake of pride. "I can work with that."

Drawing a line form his cloak, Vulpesen started to run her through the various basic knots and hitches she would be using under his orders. Largely, the work of riggers was hauling and slacking lines, but he preferred that everyone be capable n some sense when necessary. If she wasn't already aware, he would also ensure enough knowledge to tie the eminently handy bowline with a single hand.

"I suppose mercenaries is a good word for it. I often travel between ships, but the Wave Hunter lost its rigger on a previous expedition. I was available and had a fair reputation, so I came aboard. They hunt down pirates and slavers, akin to privateers though their letters of marque aren't really set against a formed nation." Even as he spoke, his fingers danced around the coil in his grip, looping it around into a figure eight knot, useful for creating a stopping point in a line.

Zarra Bundyth