• Completed • A Shipment to Hijack (Graded)

[Patrick]

Zi'da 85th 717

Location: The Cow and Corset

"We have to go, preferably now if we want to catch up with them." Crowley recommended as he approached Patrick with a downtrodden look, Patrick himself had been comfortable in a chair located in their private room. He'd spent the last few trials deliberately studying the runes found in the book, and comparing the notes Crowley had compiled in reference to some of their meaning. Needless to say it wasn't going very well, just a bunch of gibberish that didn't seem to make sense. All of their language seemed to revolve around runic symbols and unusual markings, some with lines while others with oriental dots no less. Then the ones where the two blended together to make unusual symbols were the worst, none of which Patrick himself could make sense of when he tried to sit through it.

However...

"Catch up?! Why? What's going on?" The bartender remarked as he placed both parchments of text on the table, a lean forward in his chair made as he looked up to his partner with concern.

"They've found something by the sound of it, ruins that are located to the southeast beyond the settlement Fordwell."

"Fordwell?" Patrick reiterated curiously. "How far off is that?"

"It's a good ways south, if we leave tonight then we might be able to make up for lost time. Gotta warn you kid..." Crowley looked over to the side as he hesitated.

"What?" Patrick urged him on as he rose to his feet next, his priority now to pack every essential item necessary.

"We might be a bit behind Raimeus in every way, unless we pull off a dangerous stunt that you might not like." Crowley resumed with a sigh and for a moment Patrick stood there, unsure whether or not he wasn't going to like the idea that Crowley had in mind.

Evidently he didn't...

Zi'da 93rd 717, Early Evening

Location: South from Southguard, Several Kilometers downriver.

Patrick didn't like this one bit! The plan was to hop aboard a moving boat and maybe even commandeer it, but above all deliberately destroy a particular shipment it carried. What it was Patrick didn't fully know, only that it would endanger the expedition entirely. If in the wrongs hand then it could do worse as well... So the fact Raimeus could manage to afford shipping it in large quantities? Obviously he had a greater influence than Patrick initially gave him credit for. It was almost sundown now and being the last day of Zi'da, it felt almost eerie to see the light falter behind the trees. The river bend felt almost freezing when he stood on the incline from it, eyes remained locked on the faint glimmer in the distance.

Lanterns.

Their target was inbound and would soon be where they were, which meant time was of the essence if they wanted to pull this off flawlessly. Patrick sighed heavily and couldn't help but shiver as well, the cold somehow settled into his bone even through the layers of clothing under his armor. "Well... here goes nothing." He murmured as he turned to head back to their little encampment, where the others were waiting for word on their next move. Crowley had spent time making sure the fire was enough to keep them warm while they waited, as well as making sure their newest addition to the group wasn't getting too cold also.

Admittedly Finn proved an oddball that Patrick didn't want to drag out here, not when the elements themselves could've proved fatal; especially for one as young as he was. Yet the boy had heart, and a stout hardiness he couldn't deny. Thus it wouldn't have been fair to send him home where it was warm, not when Patrick himself could use the extra help on this expedition. With him and Oberan on his side then maybe... they had a shot at beating Raimeus to the ruins first. If not those then at least to Orimar's entrance... wherever that may be. "Okay boys, the boats about to pass here soon. We're likely going to find resistance on there since Raimeus wants his shipment well guarded, but if we can torch it then we save ourselves an ass load of more time to find Orimar."

He looked to Crowley when he heard the man chuckle a bit, a wry smirk on his face as he glanced to the other two there. "Oberan, Finn. You bein' here helps a lot, but don't do anything rash or unpredictable in this case. If we can dispose of the shipment without losing the boat, then we'd be doing ourselves a solid favor."

"Just so you both know," Crowley interjected as he rose to a full stand, "this shipment isn't like any other. We'll be disposing of a substance known as 'Black powder' or so it's called, something that catches fire pretty easily if you're not careful."

"If we can dump it into the river then that might be best, but if we have to we'll use fire to dispose of it." Patrick finished with his arms crossed over, until time came that they needed to move. "It's almost time! Kill the flames Crowley, hopefully all of you know how to swing from a rope." As he said this Patrick took from his belt the coiled rope and grappling hook, the very key tool they'd be using to board the ship with minimal detection...
hopefully. Crowley did as he was told by first lighting a cigar with the fire, and then a few stomps and kicks made to kill the flame afterwards. Both lighting and warmth seemed to decrease without it, but this was an operation that required less detection if at all possible. Once near the incline where the river bank was, Patrick looked above to a half dead tree that hung out over the river. With the grappling hook hung a couple feet from his hand, Patrick spun it around a few times as he tried to get the aim right.

When he felt the weight of the hook pull it into another round he threw it forward, letting it's weight carry it out as it managed to latch onto the branch. Had to be beginners luck if he ever possessed any. "Nice shot kid." Crowley commented with a pat on Patrick's shoulder.

"Yeah well, let's not expect it to last. Who's first? Finn?" Patrick looked behind him with the roped offered for someone to grab, while the boat itself was now in position for someone to jump onto. Their window of opportunity would be small, any hesitation would cost them if they debated... but who would be the first to jump across onto the boat?



Ellen'wyn's group would seem less and less interesting the longer she traveled with them, the privateers sent to collect the ship itself were either too rowdy or too edgy; the latter for reasons unknown at the moment. Regardless of how she may have felt towards them, the personal guard that were too drunk and relaxed to care flirted and teased. They were nothing but a combination of mercenaries and crooks after all, signed on for the chance to earn some big cash at the end.

However the guards that were more uptight and even anxious kept to themselves, determined to make sure nobody would bother going down below deck. By order of Raimeus himself; nobody was to disturb the shipment under no circumstances, until it arrived in Fordwell to be handled carefully by experts. That was just the gist of the word, and those caught trying to sneak a peek were beaten without question.

However Ellen's night would unfold into a much more chaotic event, as they had little clue that they'd be boarded by a pack of dangerous 'criminals' soon...

Off Topic

Alright so the idea behind this is to infiltrate and eradicate the shipment of blackpowder, trouble is it's heavily guarded so Team Patrick is to expect resistance. Oberan and Finn are to help with this endeavor so that they make it to Fordwell with or without that boat.

Ellen, I'm currently working out to see if you're other teammate is partaking, I went ahead and left the section I wrote for you vague for you to use as you see fit. You'll be pitted against Team Patrick unless your character determines it better to join them, up to you entirely as we have the whole thread to determine how this unfolds!

Happy writing my peeps, also no specific posting order is required. As soon as everyone has had their turn posting, I'm gonna move the thread along so we can try to wrap this one up quickly. Good luck teams!

[Ellen'wyn]

Zi'da 85, Arc 717

She went back to read the letter a few different times as she packed. It was simple, to the point. No real instruction--just to meet in Fordwell. Well, alright then. Still, she was excited to finally be on the move. Quite a bit of time had passed since she'd signed the contract, which was now tucked into a pouch on her belt with the letter. She'd yet to meet this Raimeus character, so she assumed it was directly from Kleo.

They hadn't really told her what she would need, so she decided to bring everything. Ellen hadn't accumulated much in the way of things during her time in Etzos. Everything she owned still fit in her bags and on her person. She preferred it that way. Still, the redhead had some preparations for the oncoming cold of Cylus. She'd purchased a new mantle of fur while before returning from Foster's Landing. The mixed-blood had never been particularly adverse to low temperatures, and found she was very efficient at tolerating it, but even she had her limits sometimes. So just in case, she slipped the soft garment around her shoulders before grabbing the last of her belongings.

A large group of Raimeus and Kleo's mercenaries found her a short time later. They'd been given some instruction to round others up, and she wasn't one to argue. Although Ellen didn't particularly like boats--having been on a few ships in the recent past--it was easier than finding her own way to Fordwell. So she'd obliged and made her way to the docks and onto their moderately sized vessel, but felt quite out of place among them.

“Ellen!” The familiar little voice made her jump and turn.

“Niv? Oh thank the heavens... But what in Idalos are you doing here?” The little Tunäwä didn’t actually have to explain. Ellen looked up at the few men idling behind her. Each of them wearing a tabard with a turkey. She sighed and folded her arms. “Where is he?”

“It’s just us. Gangui couldn’t come. He sent me as a representative… with retainers.” Her little face twisted on the words.

“Hmph… well, I’m just glad you’re here. So, Raimeus and Kleo hired the Sons of Justice as well...” It was more a rhetorical statement than a question. Obviously they must have been paid to come along. Jutting out her chin a little, Ellen motioned the turkey men away. “You can leave her be. She’s safe with me, and I don’t want you breathing down my neck. So go play nice with the others, thank you very much.” They didn’t really deserve the rude treatment, but she couldn’t help it. They were an extension of Gangui, and the mixed-blood was still miffed at his behavior several weeks earlier.

“Come on Niv,” Ellen mumbled, scooping the little Tunäwä up onto her shoulder. “We need to talk.” She sent one final leer toward the Sons of Justice before disappearing with her companion toward the prow, ignoring their immediate protests.
Zi’da 93, Arc 717

It was unbearable. She was going crazy. Ellen and Niv could only make up so many games out of twigs and rocks. The looks she kept getting from some of the men was making her skin itch too. A few trials ago it had been mostly innocent, or rather she could ignore it. But it was beginning to persist into remarks and the occasional lewd gesture. It seemed they were getting antsy as well, in all the wrong ways.

“I can’t take this stupid boat anymore,” she exclaimed throwing, her hands up and abandoning the sticks they'd been arranging in elaborate designs. “I’m going to stab the next person that looks at me funny,” the redhead added as one of the men walked by, giving her a sidelong stare. She glared at him as he passed, baring her teeth, feathers bristling. She turned back to her companion after he’d scurried away. “I need fresh air,” she decided. They were outside already, tucked away in a quieter area on the main deck. They weren’t allowed below for some reason, but Ellen didn’t particularly care. She didn’t want to be stuck down there with any of these men anyway. The women were barely tolerable either.

“Fresh air? Wha'dya mean?” Her little brows crinkled a bit.

“I mean, that if you want, I’ll take you for a ride.” It was partially due to an urge to escape, not quite fight or flight, but just a strong discomfort, and secondly because she’d never actually had someone up there with her before. She couldn't banish the idea once it rooted in her mind. It excited her, and Niv was easily small enough to come along. “You could ride on my back I think, if you hang on tight.” She smiled finally—a devilish little grin. “Come on.”

And off they went a few bits later, Niv tucked carefully into the fur around Ellen’s shoulders, clinging to braids and loose locks of hair. The mixed-blood had found a clear spot on the deck, took a few long jogging stride, hopped up onto the ship’s rail, then launched herself up over open water. She beat her wings once, twice, three times before she could build enough lift and rise steadily higher. Niv squealed loudly, half-screaming in her ear, but Ellen thought it was a more delighted sound than anything. It made a smile split across her face. Her heart galloped with a strange mixture of emotions. Maybe some pride, and a lot of her own delight as well. The last time she'd felt this way might have been when she was still a young child.

“Hang on!” she called over the sound of the wind, then experimented with a slight adjustment to some of the larger flight feathers on her left wing. She spread them and curved the limb a little more, banking slowly to the right in a lazy circle several hundred feet above the boat, almost like a circling buzzard. Although Ellen had control of each feather, it had been arcs since she'd dabbled in new aerial movements. She was still getting used to being in the air again after so long fighting the undeniable pull.

OOC

3 gn deducted from ledger for small fur mantle.

Also, Niv gave consent for the use of her character in this post for continuity purposes.

[/color]

[Finnegan O'Connor]

A Shipment to Hijack

________________________

OOC note: the miniscule godmodding toward the end (involving Patrick) was written with Patrick’s consent and permission to utilize his character in this way.

Finn hugged himself near the fire, staring into the flames, his lips barely moving as he whispered sweet nothings to the embers. The earth was hard here. Hard and cold to any but those like him who had chosen to befriend the elements, to hear their timeless voices and forge a bond of intimate companionship. And so it was that even though he sat among a group of strangers, Finn was neither alone nor concerned.

If Fiona had been around she would’ve surely lectured him again on how he’d managed to get tied up in some foolish quest, but this time it hardly could’ve been helped. It had been Patrick who’d spilled the secret of the quest in a drunken stupor and once the charismatic drunk realized as much the next trial, it was too late. First Patrick had tried to buy his silence, blissfully unaware that Finn had already passed the information to his superior. Finn had of course denied having spoken to anyone and had deliberately slipped the suggestion that, should Patrick wish to be certain that no one else learned of this quest, he’d best bring Finn along. In truth, Finn had merely parroted Mr. Tagley, his superior, who recognized the potential fortune such a treasure hunt could bring if brought to a successful end.

Finn ceased his meaningless muttering to shoot a sideways glance toward Oberan, the only unpredictable factor in this whole affair. Altough he technically knew Oberan longer than he did Patrick or Crowley, Finn was rather certain of the motives of the latter two. As far as he’d been able to tell from the conversations they’d had along the road, the friends were in it for the sake of treasure, plain and simple. Oberan however. . .

He averted his gaze toward the ground and doodled a little figure in the soil with a half-burnt stick from the fire. Oberan could be in it for the promise of reward too, but he suspected there was more to the man’s motives than that and he mistrusted the bearded fellow a great deal. He had already shown himself to be arrogant when he’d first met the man, and if he truly was so prideful than it stood to reason that Oberan would’ve preferred to hunt for treasure on his own. Yet, here he was. It could only mean that Oberan needed Patrick and Crowley to guide him toward the treasure in the first place, or perhaps the reverse was true.

He flinched a little at Patrick’s sudden voice, but soon recovered and tossed the stick back into the diminishing fire that hungrily consumed it. A devilish little grin came to his face which appeared almost twisted in the glowing, flickering light. “Nothin’ rash?” he chirped with fake innocence and an exaggerated yawn. “Boring.”

He stood up and stretched himself before setting his gaze on the fast approaching light on the river. “I could set it on fire,” he offered with a shrug. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew that wasn’t quite true. Aye, he could coax a flame to jump up from a fire, but he couldn’t conjure up fire out of thin air, nor did he have great control over the results. The best he could do now was encourage the elements to do as he willed, not unlike luring a street cat to his hand. Even if the cat wouldn’t jump or be distracted by something else along the way, there would still be no telling if it would allow itself to be stroked and patted. It was the same with the elements especially considering he’d only just started to regain their trust.

Finn grimaced a little as the fire was so ruthlessly stamped out but didn’t protest beyond stuffing his hands in his pockets and silently following after Crowley and Patrick to where the latter slung a rope over a tree branch. Either Patrick was very skilled or very lucky to succeed on the first try, given how dark it was.

That same darkness was also their ally as Finn took the offered rope and tested the strength by hanging from it. The branch creaked a little, but otherwise seemed to hold his weight. He gripped the rope firmly with both hands and moved away from the tree until he stood on the tip of his toes, a frown coming to his forehead. He took a step forward and picked up a loose stone from the ground before turning to face Patrick.

“Swing me across,” he whispered to Patrick. “If the coast is clear, I’ll drop this in the water. If you hear the splash, you can come up. Else...”

He wrinkled his nose and smiled. “...I’ll just pretend to be a stowaway and I’ll find a way off. Don’t worry.” The last bit he said more to himself than anyone else, though he wasn’t given much time to consider the thought as Patrick pulled him back and let him go. The wind rushed through his hair as the ship’s side approached at breakneck speed. For a trill he thought he’d slam face-first into it, but Patrick had measured the distance well and he stopped just short of hitting the side with his knees. Without second thought he let go of the rope and jumped forward, a little less graciously than he’d imagined, and seized the ship’s bannister with both hands before hoisting himself up and onboard. As soon as his boots hit the deck, he dashed for the nearest shadow and carefully looked toward the cabin, from which an yellow glow shone and some muffled voices sounded. When he’d made sure there was no one patrolling the ship currently he waited for the wind to lay low and tossed the stone overboard and summoned the others to join him.

[Oberan]

Bran did not like the plan.

Adventure and expeditions to ancient ruins were all fine and dandy, but the moment he’d caught wind of them having to board a ship, his spirit had been a whole lot less fired up. He’d rather go on foot, if possible, though as things stood he’d then never reach the ruins in time, if he could find them at all. He sighed as he stared into the flickering flames of the fire, warming his hands as he listened to the boy next to him whisper to it, though he wasn’t paying enough attention to make out the words.

If he’d never heard of Defiers before he might have thought that the lad had gotten cold feet and was trying to talk some courage into himself, or that he was insane. Then again, Defiers were a bit kooky anyways, so the latter was actually pretty accurate.

He cast a sidelong glance at the dark river, wishing that ship would never show up. For the umpteenth time he wondered if those ships were really all that important. If they were, couldn’t they just block the river or sink the ships or something? Set them on fire or make them capsize? Anything that did not involve them boarding those damned vessels, really.

As if on cue, Finn made an offer that sounded half-serious at best, and if Bran had anything to say about it, he’d have told him to go ahead. Now though, he knew it was too good to be true, and kept his mouth shut. Patrick prepared their way of boarding by launching a grappling hook at a nearby, carefully selected tree, and when the boat was in position, Finn swung through the darkness and over the water, managing to grab onto the railing, then hoisting him up onto the deck.

The rope came swinging back, momentum returning it to its starting point, where Oberan could easily grab hold of it. He gave Patrick a little nod, stepped back a couple steps to gain maximum forward motion, and swung towards the ship, feeling a rush as the wind tugged at him and the branch creaked and groaned. This was the part of the plan he’d no objections to.

Alas, it couldn’t last, and before long the time came to actually move on to the next step of the plan. When he reached the highest point of the arc, Oberan swung his legs forward and released the rope, launching himself into the air. His arms flailed for a couple moments as he eyed the ship underneath him, the deck quickly coming closer and closer. His feet touched down first, knees bending to kill the downward force. He added a hand to prevent him from planting his face into the wooden boards. All in all it was a fairly decent landing, not too loud either. The way he’d placed his feet upon landing had reduced the noise made to a dull thud.

He nodded to Finn and moved away from the rope so the next person could make their entry, feeling his stomach slosh and tumble with the bobbing of the ship. He grabbed the bannister immediately as if afraid he’d keel over, knuckles white. It didn’t help, it never did.

Oberan hated ships.

[Niv]

A journey to discover a lost city full of potential treasure and mystery was Niv’s cup of tea. When Gangui said he needed volunteers to go in his place while he sorted out the details of their budding organization Niv’s tiny Hand hand shot up. Being burned alive hadn’t made the Tunawa any less adventurous, if anything she was more daring then before. What doesn’t kill you only makes your stronger after all.

The one catch to the deal was that Niv wasn’t the only one who would be going on this quest. A group of Gangui’s men would be accompanying Niv to keep her out of trouble and Niv wasn’t the least bit happy about it. She was confident that a group of armoured men would slow her down, despite not having a mount to fly her tiny self around. They would make travel faster but how could Niv possibly be stealthy with a bunch of clattering armoured warriors behind her. It just wasn’t possible.

Niv pouted as she traveled with the group of men and would scowl at any of the men that tried to talk with her. She knew she was being a stubborn brat but couldn’t help it. They must have thought of Niv as a helpless little kitten that couldn’t do her own thing.

When the group arrived at the ship Niv saw a friendly face among the passengers, Ellen the mixed bred hunter. The half breed smiled back at Niv but wasn’t very happy with the entourage of Sons of justice men that came with her. Though when she found that Gangui wasn’t coming Ellen visibly relaxed. It made Niv wonder what could have possibly happened between her two friends but quickly dismissed these thoughts as they were likely none of her business.

Ellen shooed the group of men away so the two could have some private time together. If the men protested, The tunawa wouldn’t stand for it. Niv didn’t want their interference to begin with especially when she was with one of her very best gal pals.

——

Niv was good at making games but spending hours in a ship was testing these skills to their limits. Her and Ellen had played pick up sticks, sorted the sticks, passed a rock back and forth and made twig towers. It wasn’t long before Ellen got restless, and Niv couldn’t really blame her, the ship smelt like dead fish and sweaty feet. Though it was the comments from the creepy sailors that really got to her feathered friend.

Niv crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue to lighten the mood after Ellen’s comment but she didn’t notice. Instead Niv followed Ellen to the deck at her request. The tunawa was a little confused at first but it soon became clear when she was placed in the fur of her friend’s jacket that they were going to fly.

Flying was something Niv did often but it was somehow more fun when riding on Ellen. As they dove off, Niv couldn’t contain her excitement and let out a full on squeal of joy. When they got higher in the sky, Niv could practically see everything and it didn't take long for something odd to catch her attention. She turned her head just as a young Tall Folk flew from the shore onto a ship, she looked to the shore and spotted some movement near a fire. Some thing strange was defiantly going on over there.

"Someone jumped onto our ship, I dink." Niv stated casually. The tunawa didn't think much of it but found it pretty rude to come on a ship unannounced.

"We have some guests on board." Niv shouted to her men as she flew over.




Credit to Kidchan

[Gangui]

[img]/gallery/image ... e_id=13193[/img]

Early Zi’da

Several people stood in line at the general goods store at the port. The next person in line was an intoxicated young man, his face burning red . He was scruffy and dirty, but not so chaotic that he was mistaken as a homeless man and kicked out of the establishment.

“Give me a bottle of your best whiskey.” the said man pointed at the top shelf, “and a dozen of your best cigars!”

The clerk gave the ruffian a sideways glare, doubting he could afford it. In fact, everyone waiting in the que smiled as they expected to hear some bullshit spew out of the guy’s mouth. Luckily these thoughts weren’t made verbal, as the red faced young man completely surprised them. In an exaggerated motion, he poured out a half dozen gold nels on the counter.

As soon as the bouncing coins settled, an army recruit further down the line immediately called the guy out, “How can you afford that?”

Grabbing the expensive liquor from the clerk’s hands, the drunk guy held the bottle up for everyone to see, “It’s because I just joined Turkey Company!” His voice full of pride and bravado. The smile on his face from ear to ear. Scattered whispers quickly died back down as the people went back to minding their own business as before.

A bitter look was upon the army recruit’s face as the Turkey recruit walked out of the store with the confidence of a champion.

Zi’Da 85

By the time they arrived at the river, Peleus was wishing he had saved that expensive bottle for this mission. The four turkey retainers where cold, wet, and not well rested. The little Tunawa they followed was driving them forward at an intolerable pace with little regard for their comfort. This type of work was definitely taxing on the greenhorn. All things considered, a swig from that bottle would have been nice right about then.

Peleus would not have any liquid relief today, only the scorn of the tiny tree person to contend with. Despite acting more enemy than friend, the guys knew that Niv would eventually thank them later. Though they didn’t quite understand, they figured that whatever was bothering her would eventually let up. At least that was what Peleus hoped.

He would never understand why Gangui had sent Niv as a representative for their faction. She inspired little confidence and well… she was a Tunawa, which was a difficult authority figure for Peleus to get used to.

The greenhorn tried talking to the other guys about these things, but they said nothing. He suspected they knew something he didn’t, but he failed at prying out any information from the stalwart men.

Something was off about this mission, something strange. Why would Niv be leading such an endeavor? Why not send Caoindelbhan? What did all this have to do with protecting the land from Immortals? At least the last question was easy enough for him reason out in his mind. Making sure Niv didn’t die was more important apparently than his own life. She was a crucial part of something bigger and Peleus would figure it out soon enough.

When the fiery avriel took the little Tunawa into her care, the steely Turkey men all sighed in relief. Finally they would have a chance to rest from the scorn of the little lady and take a load off from their shoulders.

Zi’Da 93
On the blackpowder boat

Peleus couldn't sleep. The long days of boredom on the ship left him restless at all times of the day. Sailing was never his forte, not enough of a drunk he supposed. Leaning against the prow of the ship, he was teaching himself to twirl his dagger around when he finally got bored of that too.

Whistling softly, he ambled down the edge of the boat whilst throwing his dagger up and down in the moonlight. "Hurry up and wait!" The greenhorn chuckled to himself as he quietly contemplated the mission thus far.

OOC

For the remainder of the quest, I will be playing a character called Peleus: a young SOJ recruit. Technically, I am guest modding, but I am actually taking the role of a 5th PC and leaving the leadership with Chronicle of course. I will not earn any skills points or knowledges from this quest. But the faction (not my PC), may benefit with fame and loot. Cheers!

[Patrick]

Admittedly he probably wasn't the best type of role model right about now, but when Finn asked for help in swinging across Pat just grinned. He was literally being asked to help a boy sneak aboard a boat, if that wasn't incentive for bad parenting then he didn't know what was... Still he nodded and waved for Finn to take the rope, a good nudge given to the boy as he watched Finn sail into the open air for a Bit. He waited until Finn went ahead and gave the all clear, and then allowed Oberan to be the one who went next to board the ship. Another successful board. "Okay Crowely, you're up!" Patrick warned him as he waved for the older man to make the jump.

Crowley bent his knees and went into a sprint for the rope, a jump made as he seemed to nearly miss grappling it. "Whoa, shit!" He croaked lowly as he swung back and forth a couple of times. Finally he seemed to land close by where Oberan and Finn landed, a harsh voice quietly confirmed that he was successfully aboard also. "All you kid!"

"Coming." Patrick reassured him as he looked up to the branch, admittedly it seemed sturdier than he predicted... since it held up with those three. He bent his knees in the same fashion and in turn briefly sprinted, thus made a vault for the rope as he reached within the air. His right hand managed to find it, and quickly he grasped it tightly with the intent to coil it around his arm a little. Patrick felt the branch above shake from the sudden weight pull, and the world all around him seemed to rush forward as he swung his legs forward for the boat. "Whoa!" He groaned as he felt his momentum stop and in turn reverse, with a pull of his legs back he swung until he yet again stopped and fell into a forward momentum. Patrick timed it to where he would soon make a vault for the boat.... however...

The branch cracked and in turn snapped midway through his swing, thus Patrick's sudden drop led him to align with the ship's bow instead. "Oh crap!" He called out as he slammed into the side of the ship, while his grappling hook undoubtedly fell to the the river below. Thankfully he was lucky enough to catch the side of the boat, as well as manage to keep a hold on the rope, and Crowley quickly came to his aid in regards to pulling him over.

"Seven asses kid, you alright?" He groaned as he grasped Patrick by the forearm.

"Yeah," Patrick muttered as he used Crowley to help pull himself over, "Close call is all." With Finn and Oberan in sight now Patrick looked from their area, then down to the other end where there were guards heard drinking and playing card games. "Let's hope nobody heard that..." He remarked as he started to coil the rope, determined to reel in the hook from the waters below before it caught something within the river. Once that had been accomplished both Pat and Crowley snuck close to where Oberan and Finn were, that way they could go over the next stage of the plan since the risks just grew even greater. "Okay. Chances are they're watching the Blackpowder, so we're going to find resistance along the way. Oberan if you can manage it, use your little magical voo-doo stuff on them to knock them out. It's not necessary but if we have to..." He looked over his shoulder with a tinge of regret.

"We kill any guards that get in the way."

"Sounds like a plan." Crowley commented as he leaned around the corner to see if anybody on watch drew closer. "One problem... We already got a watch dog nearby."

"Dispatch him then, we can't risk it." Patrick told Crowley as he motioned for the other two to go first. Crowley sighed as he snuck along side the two, determined to wrap his arms around the guard. He wouldn't try to kill the man but merely put him in a headlock of a sort, one that would suffocate him until come the time he would finally pass out.

Off Topic

Alright, so lowdown of this turn is getting into the ship's hull to dispose of the blackpowder. Finn and Oberan will have that obligation directly as they can either sneak or just flat out fight the guard, entirely up to the both of you really.

Ellen's of course welcome to do as she intended, which is tackle Patrick from the sky since she's got the element of surprise.

Gangui you're NPC is the one Crowley is about to choke hold this round, Crowley's skill are as followed so you're welcome to keep them in mind during your struggle.

10	Acrobatics	15	Climbing
10	Deception	10	Endurance
15	Linguistics	10	Pick Pocketing
20	Ranged (Crossbow)	15	Research
10	Seduction	10	Stealth
10	Strength	15	Unarmed (Brawling)

[Ellen'wyn]

Ellen let the air fill her wings and lift her higher. She circled lazily, curving her primaries slightly to elicit the slow spiral. She’d found a thermal over the water, and the upward rush of warm air made her feel suspended as she and Niv were carried steadily upward on the column of vertical wind. The mixed-blood was getting better at making the minor adjustments during flight. It made her heart patter just a little faster each time she moved a feather just so, and felt her entire body shift in the air.

Her eyes drifted shut and she breathed in the cold air. It was cleansing and rejuvinating—exactly what she needed after being cooped up on that damnable boat. She might have started reflecting more deeply about the stark changes she’d been making these past few seasons, particularly her outlook on flight, had Niv’s voice not pulled her back.

“What?” Her eyes snapped open at the Tunäwä’s comment and her amber-eyed gaze dropped just in time to witness the last figure’s clumsy attempt at boarding. Ellen’s eyes narrowed. There was a small group of them clustered and hidden behind crates of food. She saw one make a move to intercept what appeared to be one of Niv’s retainers, if the familiar gleam of his armor and shade of his tabard were correct.

“Hang on!” the mixed-blood ordered. She quickly tucked her wings and plummeted. Drawing them in halfway let her drop into a steep dive. The cold wind burned her eyes and ripped at her clothes but she blinked away the tears. Several dozen feet above the boat Ellen opened her wings, catching the air and slowing dramatically. She stalled momentarily, wind swirling and buffeting her feathers.

“Wait—Ellen—no—!” Niv tried to shout as they careened toward the nearest figure but her voice was ripped away by the wind. They were still falling hard and a little out of control despite Ellen’s efforts otherwise. She braced herself at the last tick, then crashed into him with a loud grunt. Niv was violently dislodged from her back. The redhead and intruder both slammed into the deck and slid several yards before coming to a halt, half-tangled together with Ellen pinning him down.

She perched on his chest, her own heaving from adrenaline. She’d managed to draw her knife during the slide and now pressed its sharp blade up under his chin. Leaning in a little closer, flushed face framed by wild wind blown curls and braids, the mixed-blood leveled the intruder with her best glare.

“Don’t move a muscle,” she warned, voice almost a snarl and accent more prominent than usual.

OOC

Just a note for everyone that Ellen tackled Patrick.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

A Shipment to Hijack

________________________

OOC note: hope this is alright. Didn't want to move too far forward.


Finn cringed visibly as Patrick came aboard with much ado. As much as he detested Oberan’s arrogance, the man at least knew how to be quiet and light on his feet. Patrick on the other hand could hardly fool a blind person with his big, elephantine movements. All things considered however, he much preferred the stumbling leader of the quest over Oberan who presumed superiority in all domains merely because of their difference in height and age. Finn clenched his jaw as he awaited Patrick and Crowley’s approach and if his eyes hadn’t briefly flicked in Oberan’s direction, he would’ve never noticed the man’s discomfort.

“You alright?” he whispered. It took him only a few trills to decipher the cause of Oberan’s heavy leaning against the bannister. He’d seen it before on the fishing boats he’d worked on during the previous season. Sea-sickness, they called it, though he imagined Oberan had a rather bad case of it if the slow, barely moving ship was enough to nearly send the man off balance.

There wasn’t much time to say much more as his attention was drawn to the sound of casual whistling on the deck. Without a moment’s hesitation he tugged Oberan’s sleeve, urging the man to follow him away from the bannister, toward a patch of dark shadows behind a stack of crates.

Once there, Patrick and Crowley joined with the former hastily explaining his plan. Finn shook his head in reply and showed his palms to the leader of the quest. “But I don’t have any weapons!” he hissed. Perhaps he’d bragged a little too much about being capable of outmaneuvering even the most attentive guards, nor had he made a particular secret out of his attunement to the elements, but he had never claimed to be capable of killing with his bare hands. His second, and greater objection however, he kept to himself for he had no desire to share his experiences at murder.

Before much else could be done, the wind spoke to him in alarm, and not a trill later the sound of great wings unfolding, like a billowing sail, burst through the air. Had he not gained forewarning from the wind itself, he might’ve toppled over at the sheer suddenness of the assault. Patrick half flung, half skidded a few paces across the deck, taken by a winged shadow from above. Finn didn’t hesitate and vaulted over the crates and into the light. Their cover was blown anyway and the only thing that mattered now was finding the powder.

He made little effort to disguise the patter of his rushed footsteps as he bolted toward a large trapdoor at the center of the ship. It was a heavy thing and it took all his strength to lift the weight before it fell on the deck with a louder-than-expected thud. Alarmed, Finn hoped against hope that the crew aboard the ship would be more interested in the scuffle taking place further back on the ship than the mousy little figure scurrying down the ladder into the dark hull of the ship.

[Oberan]

Oberan was, and had been, many things; child, busker, acrobat, jester, juggler, thief, god, drunk, annoying, cheater, prisoner… the list went on and on.

Sailor was not on that list, though seasick was very much so.

It wasn’t about being off balance or about the speed of the ship. Oberan was a decent acrobat, so he should be able to handle the ever-moving deck just fine. In terms of balance, he did. He could stay upright without a problem, he could walk around in a straight line without stumbling. Not getting sick though, well, that was a different story altogether. No, this was just the bobbing motions of the ship which he was just very sensitive to. It was like drinking so much the room started spinning, resulting in headaches, nausea, and throwing up. This was the exact same thing, only this time without any alcohol involved.

”I’m fine,” Oberan managed to groan, clearly anything but fine. Not only his voice, but also the paleness of his face and the tight grip with which he held onto the railing of the ship were dead giveaways. ”Just give me a couple bits. I’ll get used to it.” He wasn’t even sure who he was trying to convince here, the boy or himself.

Someone whistled, and Finn tugged at Bran’s sleeve, evidently having paid attention to what was going on around them. The Mortalborn followed –albeit a little reluctantly—to where Patrick and Crowley had hidden themselves. His stomach protested, his mouth filling with excessive amounts of saliva. He swallowed it down and steeled himself, waiting for an eruption that never came. Well, all the better then.

They had a brief little scheming session, where Oberan was mainly focused on not throwing up, and missed most of what was being said because of it. Well, he got the gist still; find the powder and destroy it. Should be easy enough, right? Right.

Well, if they had been undetected, that is. Now though, a winged creature came crashing out of the sky, immediately pinning Patrick to the deck. A knife was at his throat, and threats were hissed. This was a bit of a conundrum. Should they stick to the plan and destroy the shipment, or help out Pat and Crowley? There was no way the noise of the dive-bomb had gone by unnoticed, so there should be a small army of guards swarming onto the deck. It would provide cover for Finn and Bran, but it would also be dangerous for Pat.

It was doubtful that Oberan would prove a worthwhile addition to the team when it came to combatting a dozen guards though, so the choice was easily made.

Finn had already taken off, and the Mortalborn followed, running in the general direction the boy went. He found an open trapdoor that lead into the hull of the ship, and possibly the hold. Or first the quarters and then the hold. He listened for a moment to see if there was anything going on down there. If the guardsmen were indeed going to use this door to climb onto the deck, he’d probably hear them make a bit of a ruckus. If he did, Oberan would look for a place to hide momentarily, then pressed himself against the mast of the ship, hoping that the dark colors of his clothing would be enough of a camouflage that the riled up guards wouldn’t notice him and run to where Patrick and Crowley were. Then he’d slide down the ladder the moment they were past him. If he didn’t hear anything, he’d naturally not waste time and simply go down the ladder immediately.