• Completed • A Shipment to Hijack (Graded)

[Niv]

Having been violently launched from Ellen, Niv found herself inside a grimy bucket a few feet away. The bottom of the bucket was coated in a thin layer of brown ice, that was thankfully frozen solid. She popped her head up out of the bucket and glared at Ellen from the distance she’d been tossed.

“Why did you do dat!” Niv grumbled as she stumbled to get out of the slippery bucket. her tiny feet couldn’t get any traction on the ice and her efforts only caused the bucket to wobble about and tumble over. She rolled out of the bucket and dusted herself off before stomping over to Ellen to give her a piece of her mind.

“You even landed on dis poor man!” Niv pointed dramatically at Patrick, not realizing who he was from the distance and angle.
“Get off of him and put dat pointy ting away before you poke his eye out.” Niv was sure that Ellen knew better than to crash land on someone and hold sharp objects to their necks, It was common sense to at least say sorry.

“Are you okay-” Niv rushed over to the man to see if he was injured but her eyes instead went wide with recognition. “PATRICK!” Niv exclaimed loudly as she hugged the mans cheek tightly. The Tunawa hadn’t seen the man since they were champions of Ymiden, and while it hurt to be reminded of such a painful experience, Patrick was still a comforting sight to see.

“I’m sorry about my friend Ellen’wyn.” Niv glared again at her feathered friend before whispering into Patrick’s ear. “She tries but she's not very good at landing sometimes.” A devilish grin formed on Niv’s tiny face that she tried her best to hide.

“So What brings you on our boat?” Niv asked casually.




Credit to Kidchan

[Gangui]

The last thing he remembered before his life went to shit in a hand basket, was the knife in his grasp going skittering across the deck.

Peleus was caught like a well placed hook in a catfish gill. The muscle knot of Crowley’s straining forearm was clamped tightly around his neck. Panic struck the lad’s whole body. Thrashing and kicked he used of all his energy to rip free from the veteran’s grasp.

Alas, he was no match for Crowley's strength.

For some reason, Peleus’ subconscious remembered something Gangui said once regarding battle: ‘Don’t go mad or feel stressed in the midst of terrible situations, steel your nerves and take pragmatic action!’. It’s not like these instructions were ingrained in his soul yet, but they were indeed the seeds of heroism. Over time should he accept this teaching he would be able to deal with the hounds of hell themselves.

With his next action the young boy unconsciously allowed these principles to take root. Shooting his hands up, he tried to push against Crowley’s face hoping to fend him off the only way he knew how.

Alas, a new found courage was not enough either.

Crowley stalwartly remained quiet despite fingers poking in his face. The world began to fade and disorientation set it. Slowly the energy was sapped from his head and he began to feel tired. His arms dropped like wet noodles and darkness enveloped his conscious.

[Patrick]

Just as Crowley moved forward to deal with their first little obstacle Oberan and Finn proceeded onward, with Patrick just about in tow until something swooped in from above. A creature of the night with incredible wing span assailed him with great force, and thus pinned Patrick down against the deck with a thud loud enough to alert the whole crew. By now guards would surely be moving to secure the boat, and deal with the extra passengers that had snuck aboard. Patrick's own voice chimed in a brief gasp of shock that followed with a groan, his mind disoriented after the impact of the tumble affected his head.

Vision seemed to blur for a Bit as his eyes were briefly closed as a reaction to contending with his sudden headache, while the voice above him seemed to threaten his life with a knife to the neck. Already wary of the potential danger they were all in now, he held hands up close to his head in surrender to the form above him. When his eyes finally opened fully and the blur of his vision cleared, the readjustment of his sight revealed that a woman managed to pin him down. A woman... with wings? Motherfucker of Pearl! Had an angel descended upon him from above?!

He couldn't help resisting a grin as he felt the edge of the knife, suddenly a little aroused by the feeling of metal against his neck with her hovering over. "Look you've got the wrong idea," He murmured as he still considered the knife a real threat to begin with, "pretty girl like you is probably thinking your helping Raimeus. When the truth is-" His voice was cut off by the sound of a miniature figure that proceeded to jump the flyer's case, somehow it was a voice Patrick could easily identify the moment he had heard it.

It was Niv.

She insisted her companion get off and put the knife away, and Patrick looked from her to the ginger above him. He nodded with a finger pointed to his little Tunawa friend, a modest smirk plastered across his face as he returned his gaze to Niv the moment she recognized him. A nervous chuckle sounded from his lips when she called out his name, and even though he had been told not to move he couldn't help but shrug underneath the lady. "Hey Niv." He greeted in turn with a short wave from his hand, arms still propped up in surrender as to the woman. "No kidding? She definitely knows how to surprise a guy." The whore remarked as he looked from Niv back to the winged woman before him, finally able to at least lean up since she backed off a little.

He took note of her name when he heard it and kept eyes on her more than Niv, now that he was somewhat free to move around some. "We're here to destroy the blackpowder on board-"

"Patrick! We got company dammit!" Crowley called out as he retreated back towards them, surprise in his eyes when he turned to see the two near him. "Who the hell are these two?!"

"No time!" Patrick called out as he looked from Crowley to Ellen'wyn and Niv. "We need to keep the guards aboard busy, at least until Finn and Oberan are successful." But what on Idalos could they do to stall for time? There wasn't anything Pat had on hand to fix the situation, and Crowley had the crossbow at the moment so Pat couldn't really fight... But... he could... His eyes were heavy on Ellen'wyn next and more so, the sharp object she still possessed when she threatened him earlier. With such a limited amount of time to act, as guards were shuffling to their end of the boat, Patrick pulled in his legs to bounce off his feet towards her. It was his turn to put her in the situation he was in just now.

"Everybody just trust me!" He muttered fast and low enough for the three of them to hear, while he quickly grabbed at the knife and attempted to pull away. Whether or not Ellen resisted didn't matter to him really, if she did then it just made it seem all the more real. Either way Patrick proceeded to claim the knife as his own, for a moment anyways, and grab Ellen from behind to hold her as his own hostage now.

"Patrick what-" Crowley tried to protest but it was already too late, the guards were now in their midst as they gathered around. The older gentleman backed closer towards Patrick, with crossbow in both hands as if to try and resist apprehension. Unsure as to how Niv or Ellen would handle the situation, he continued to whisper lowly just enough for the winged woman to hear him.

"Trust me please. Just trust me." He issued with another glance down to Niv, a brief wink shot to her before he raised his voice to the guards. "Alright listen up! Drop your weapons and nobody gets hurt! Disobey and the girl gets the knife!!" As convincing as he tried to make it for their audience, Pat still repeated in his mind the same thing he told her. "Just trust me." He silently begged in his mind over and over, hopeful that she would comply with him.

Meanwhile Finn and Oberan would find that below deck the ship started to seem rather empty, save for one or two patrols lingering near the cargo hold. If they could get past them then they would have access to the blackpowder, however time was of the essence now their raid party had been discovered.... and the guards on deck hardly moved by Patrick's facade.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

A Shipment to Hijack

________________________

For all his misgivings about this adventure, Oberan was at least capable of keeping quiet, the same of which could not be said for the rest of their party. Even below decks the quick patter of boots could be heard, rushing toward the commotion that Patrick had caused. The lightest creak of leather followed by a light ripple in the air were enough to inform him that Oberan had managed to remain undetected and was following close behind, which would have been a most uncomfortable realization under any other circumstance.

There was only one way to go, and that was ahead through a small corridor, the walls of which consisted endless stacks of crates, barrels, ropes, nets, and other shipper’s gear, each of them proving an unwitting obstacle to their careful approach. One bump and the whole cardhouse of stacked crates would come crashing down, one misstep and either of them might find their ankles tied up in a loop of rope. Making matters worse was that he wasn’t sure what he was looking for, other than some kind of powder, presumably black in color. How and where this powder was stored however, and in what kind of quantity, was entirely unknown. It was for that reason that Finn was relieved, of all things, upon spotting a patrol passing at the end of the corridor, where the path split into in a T. For a moment the faint light from the patrol’s lantern shone down the corridor, catching them in a fiery hue, prompting Finn to lower into a crouch, but the patrol was engaged in loud conversation, discussing the prices of whores at the last place they’d docked, from what he could tell. Soon enough, the light receded as did the mildly inebriated voices that railed against Madame Moxy’s establishment and her outrageous prices.

Finn stretched out his arm, blocking Oberan’s path before he could do anything stupid. “D’you think you can take them?” The childish man would no doubt consider the question an insult to his frail pride, which would be precisely the desired effect. “We don’t know what we’re looking for,” he added in a low hiss. “But they do. If I go that way,” he gestured to the left, “I’ll cross them. You go take the right and sneak up from behind to…” He shot a curious glance over his shoulder at Oberan. “Well, you know, make sure they don’t give us away. But don’t kill them,” he added hastily. “We’ll need at least one alive.”

It was perhaps the first, and quite possibly the only sign of respect Finn granted the mortalborn since some terrible misfortunate had brought them together. Instead of electing to move forward with the plan without further consultation, as he most often did, he instead waited for Oberan’s chin to dip into an approving nod. After all, this plan took two to make it work.

[Oberan]

As a distraction, Patrick was the cream of the crop. As a sneak thief swinging from a rope? Not so much.

However, by being the most clumsy among their mismatched band of adventurers, he’d handily caught the attention of just about the whole ship’s crew, much to the benefit of the stealthier members of the party. Both Oberan and Finn had managed to get below deck without any trouble, and were steadily creeping closer to the actual storage space where they would find this powder. Well, if Patrick’s information was correct.

Thinking back, the original plan had been doomed to fail. The makeshift hallway wasn’t really all that wide, but was very precarious and tricky to maneuver through. Both infiltrators had to divide their attention between remaining quiet, keeping an eye out for enemies, and not fucking everything up by unbalancing the stacks of crates or by getting tangled up in coils of rope. There was no way they’d have pulled this off, undetected, with four people. Patrick’s incompetent stealth wasn’t even taken into account here; under normal circumstances, there was no way to get through this part of the ship without encountering the ship’s crew. Unless someone could traverse the treacherous pile of junk lining both sides of the pathway. Oberan didn’t feel like even he could pull that off just yet. Perhaps back in his prime he might have… maybe.

Voices entered his earshot, and a slight glow of a lantern could be seen. Finn hid, and Oberan followed suit, retreating behind a crate that jutted out a bit further than the rest. They weren’t coming this way though, so there was little to worry about. They could just avoid the patrol and see where they ended up—

“What, you think I can’t?” he whispered, eyes fixed on the boy.

The lad had a plan in mind, and even though it wasn’t a very good one, it was more realistic than Patrick’s had been, and they really did not have enough time for taking things nice and slow. So all in all, the plan was decent. The only problem would have been his seasickness, but keeping his thrill high kept his mind off the wonky motion of the boat. He nodded.

Sneaking up on the two sailors wasn’t a problem, really. They were distracted enough so they’d only notice him when he was right up in their faces. If he’d needed conventional means of taking them out, he might have had some trouble too. As it stood though, this was a piece of cake.

As expected, they were still discussing the overly expensive price tag that came with Madame Moxy’s ugly wenches –their words, not his—when Oberan got close enough to use his power on them. He raised his own thrill to the upper limit by taking equal amounts from either of the two mercenaries to knock them out cold. He didn’t even have to lift a finger, except to catch the one that carried the lantern just before he hit the floorboards. The other one he allowed to collapse with a dull thud. He only cared about keeping the lantern intact, if it broke on the floor and engulfed the ship in flames—

Actually. What had Patrick been saying again? The powder-stuff was flammable? That made things easy.

“Finn!” Oberan hissed, loud enough for the boy to hear. He shouldn’t have gotten too far away just yet, considering the swiftness with which the Mortalborn had dealt with the patrol. “We won’t have enough time to find the powder, destroy all of it, and make it off this damned ship,” he said. “Hell, Patrick’s diversion is probably wearing thin already. You contro— talk to the elements, yeah? Tell the fire to spread fast and burn hot, I’m throwing this fucker as far as I can.”

He didn’t really wait, instead chucking the lantern with as much strength as he could muster –which was quite a lot now his physical prowess was amplified by the leeched thrill. It sailed over the instable walls that lined the corridor, barely missed the ceiling, and burst into pieces when it smashed into an actual wall. Burning lamp oil, shards of glass, and bits of twisted metal rained down on crates, nets, ropes, and the wooden boards that made up the floor and inner walls of the ship.

“You good? Let’s leg it!” Oberan instructed right before making a break towards the deck, though not before returning the borrowed thrill to the two mercs. He didn’t want to be burdened with the consequences of absorbing this much thrill for too long.

[Ellen'wyn]

He had the audacity to smile. Smile! Ellen's eyes narrowed and her face twisted into a silent grimace. When he spoke, she pressed the belly the blade a little further against the soft flesh under his throat. He didn't seem particularly perturbed though. Less-so than she would expect of someone who's life was being threatened. Just who did he think he was? She could feel her face growing red with the frustration of it. Part of her wanted to bluster at him, but Niv quickly interrupted before she could break the intimidating image she was so carefully maintaining.

"What? Wait! Niv! What the f--" But no one seemed to be listening to her now.

They were too busy with their little apparent reunion. Her angry face had gone slack with surprise, eyebrows quirked up and mouth hanging open slightly. She still kept the knife against the man's neck--Patrick was his name apparently--but there was considerably less venom behind the action. Ellen looked back and forth between the two of them as chaos unfolded everywhere.

People were shouting as the mercenaries became alert to the situation. The rest of this Patrick's group was springing into action. She felt helpless and exasperated. The redhead glared at him as he sat up, not really paying attention to the fact that she was sitting in his lap now, knife held loosely against his collar.

"Who do you think y--" But they were still ignoring her. Something crashed behind her and she turned to look. He grabbed her wrist and pried the knife away. She was then hoisted to her feet and put in the very situation she had held him in. Patrick pulled her tight to his front, holding her to him with an arm wrapped around her chest. The mixed-blood clawed at his forearm but it was a feeble action, as she was acutely aware of her knife now hovering next to her neck. She wriggled and pulled at his grip experimentally, but he had her locked in.

"Trust you!" she hissed, then snorted quietly. Still, her struggling faltered slightly. Her neck craned so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. His face hovered near her ear, and she tried to put on the best glare she could.

"Go on then!" one of the mercenaries snarled, hefting a wicked looking curved blade. "Kill the bird. You ain't got no leverage." Ellen felt the color drain her face and she went still. What?

"Aye. We'll cut all of you down," another chimed, and her glare turned on them.

"Bastards! Rookids! Foul born!" she hurled back at them, snarling and snapping on the words and suddenly struggling again--though this time Patrick was holding her back, not hostage. "Sev hìtua matsakaici ke’u kọv anou sämuwär! Traitors! Snakes! Dogs!"

[Gangui]

Peleus awoke from his incapacitated state and jumped up to his feet. Breathing deeply it took him several moments to gain his bearings again. Chaos had consumed the ship. Men were exchanging steel on the ship. Yelling and screaming was heard.

Bandits!

The young man drew another dagger and started to do his job: fight off those who would attempt to attack Niv. He searched for the little tunawa and he did so in the shadows of the flickering torches as the Turkeys and other mercenaries swashed shields and swung rapiers at each other. Yet, amongst the chaos he was unable to find the little tunawa he had sworn to protect.

The hold! That’s were Niv was, undership. He turned towards the starboard side and ran towards the underdecking’s doors in a crouched position.

Before he could run up on them, Oberan and Finn had already lit the fuse and were well gone. Peleus had failed to identify them, however he had made the mental leap of what was going to happen: the ship was going to blow up.

“GAMMOK!!!”

Running towards the edge of the boat, he prepared to leap for his life into the cold waters of the river below...

[Patrick]

Time was definitely of the essence considering how things started to pan out, what was meant to be a silent stealth ops turned into a standoff... that Patrick didn't even want to have. Even worse his facade with feigning a hostage situation didn't change much, and the time he had hoped to stall for suddenly dwindled faster than he'd hoped. Quite swiftly his act to hold this Ellen in place as a hostage, quickly diffused into another situation where she had to hold her back! The fire in this girl! Patrick definitely liked that aspect about her, although the more concerning issue at hand was the mercenaries. They were indeed rookid bastards...

It became evidently clear that they held little interest in the welfare of their fellow explorer, a sure tell sign that lingering with them would've been a bad call. Mercenaries. They only cared about profit above all else, and Patrick commended them for being able to test a crafty bluff. Well... Not as crafty as he had hoped, as they evidently weren't attached to her by any means. "What now kid?" Crowley checked with Pat's crossbow primed and ready, although he didn't seem too eager to be make a shot at the assholes about to close in. Indeed where they were now was a bit of a tight spot, and if they didn't think fast then it'd be more than just a troublesome scrap between the two groups. And then suddenly Patrick heard something. A loud “GAMMOK!!!” filled the night air before the backlash of disturbed water sloshed below them.

"The fek?" Was that the signal of a last Bit warning sign? Were the two down below improvising or something? Sure enough Finn and Oberan seemed to bolt onto the deck, the both of them reassuring the group that the deed had actually been done. At that point Patrick's eyebrows rose at how coincidentally well timed that was, and how they'd actually pulled it off despite the setbacks accompanied with the mission. Celebration came to mind but there was one problem... they were all still aboard, and the mercenaries took note of the two extra stowaways as well. "Shit!!" Patrick called out as he released Ellen from the grasp he had over her, now that it was imperative they ditched this boat before the fireworks happened. "Look fellas it's been fun, but now it's time to go!" On that note Patrick motioned for Crowley to head towards the starboard where they could jump into the river, a hand used to loosely grapple Ellen's wrist or forearm before he looked to her.

"Ship's gonna blow, let's get the hell outta here!" The confusion that would've settled in with the mercenaries was replaced then, surprise filled all of their faces as they realized what was happening. The shipment was going to blow! Immediately some went down to try and see if they could put a stop to it, while the rest got smart and took to ditch the boat as well; seeing as they valued their lives more than their gold. Patrick had taken the lead and attempted to tug Ellen along, a brief run made so that he could hop up onto the railing and from there attempt to dive away from the boat's location. The further they were then the safer they'd be when the explosion went off, and while he didn't expect Ellen'wyn to comply with him; he definitely tried to make the message clear with leaving the ship now. Patrick followed his buddy Crowley with a plummet down into the waters below, his entire body suddenly rigid as he felt the immense cold envelop his form.

Off Topic

Aight fellas last round! Post your getaways to the riverbank and I'll wrap this up with a nice summary post and call it even. Be sure to include a list of lores you'd like at the end of your posts too!

[Ellen'wyn]

"What do you mean by blow?" she screeched, already being pulled toward the ship's railing by Patrick.

Ellen looked around wildly. She wouldn't have imagined it, but the deck had erupted into even further chaos. Men were scattering now, shouting at each other, gathering what they could and jumping overboard. The redhead planted her heels firmly, and Patrick's hand slipped from her wrist with a twist and a jerk.

"I can't leave Niv," she snapped and turned to go find her friend as the man made his escape. "Niv!" she shouted, winding her way through the discord. A shoulder clipped her out of nowhere, sending her sprawling on her belly. Feet trampled around her, jumping over her, occasionally clipping her in their retreat. "Niv!" she called again through teeth gritted in frustration.

Finally the little Tunäwä appeared, scrambling and making a mad dash over and around boots and discarded belongings. Ellen reached out as a little arm stretched toward her, and she scooped the little creature up as she lept back to her feet.

"Let's get out of here."

The half-breed shoved her way past some frantic mercenaries to where she'd stashed her gear behind a few crates. Hoisting the back, she finally made her dash to the ship's edge. Jumping up onto the rail, she threw herself out over the water as Niv clung to her scarf for dear life, unfurled her wings, and rose up over the river. She heard splashes behind them as more men and women jumped over. Ellen stilled her wings, catching her breath and letting her heartbeat settle as they glided safely to the river's edge.

She landed on her hands and knees in the dirt, dropping her bag before impact, shaking as she came down from the adrenaline high. When they finally turned back to look at the ship, it was only moments until a chain reaction of explosions sent the whole thing sky high in a blaze of splintered wood and debris. Fiery chunks rained down on the water, but the mess was already starting its journey back downstream.

"Wow," the two said in unison.

Lore Request

Acrobatics: Vaulting over a ship's rail
Acrobatics: Steep aerial dive
Flying: Spiraling slowly
Flying: Carrying a small passenger
Flying: A running start for takeoff
Unarmed (Brawling): Tackling someone from above
Intimidation: Cursing loudly
Intimidation: Holding someone at knife point
Field Craft: Layers protect you from the cold

Location: Fordwell

Let me know if you can think of any universal non-skill knowledge.

[Oberan]

With the lower deck on fire, the cargo would be destroyed soon, and Raimeus would have to do without his powder. The Mortalborn had no idea what it was used for, but that hardly mattered anymore. He implored Finn to make haste with a gesture of his hand, then started running back the way they’d come.

He wasted no time in climbing the stairs up to the deck, though he did cast a glance over his shoulder for a moment. The two mercenaries they’d left behind had woken back up now their thrill had been returned, and were frantically trying to kill the flames with their coats, though their attempts were futile. The moment one of the garments was set ablaze instead they seemed to realize there was no saving the cargo, and began a mad dash for the deck, pale as sheets.

Oberan missed a step and stumbled, nearly falling on his face and sliding back down in a most painful manner, but fortunately managed to catch on of the higher stairs with his palms. He finished the climb on all fours, not slowing down in the slightest, bursting onto the deck with a manic grin on his face. The heat of the fire was growing in intensity as it consumed everything around itself, spreading to all sides. Soon the whole ship would be engulfed in flames. The imminent danger sent jolts of excitement sparking through his limbs, fueling his smile and the mad glare in his eyes.

Someone cussed as he flew up the upper deck, voice ringing out loudly in the language of the Etzori, but Oberan paid it no mind. He headed for Patrick instead, and rather than stopping to give them an update on the situation, he merely gave them a double thumbs up and launched himself off the ship and into the cold water of the river.

The freezing cold washed over him like the water it originated from, soaking into his clothes and feeling as if it seeped into his bones as well. He shivered as he breached the surface, kicking water in hopes to stay warm and afloat before he started swimming to the riverbank. More people were abandoning ship, plunging into the river while screaming and yelling. Some flailed wildly, gurgling water and begging for help, others tried to get rid of metal armor and other heavy items that threatened to pull them under.

A small bang ruptured the air, a huge flame wafting from belowdecks, gripping the mast with fiery hand. Like a candle the mast burned, the sail and ropes catching fire too easily.

Someone yelled ‘dive’ in a panicky voice, and almost all mercenaries around reacted immediately.

Oberan followed suit, and not a moment too soon.

Like a tidal wave a huge shock rippled through the water, feeling like someone had used a sledgehammer to whack him in the stomach. Even underwater an enormous bang could be heard, and the dark depths lighted up momentarily in a bright flash of fire. Despite the cold river a wave of heat spread and soothed, but only for a brief moment. Then the cold returned in full force, and the Mortalborn returned to the surface to gasp for air.

“Well fuck me sideways,” he whistled in awe.

The ship was completely destroyed, leaving only a charred mess that still burned like a bonfire. All around bits and pieces fell down in the water like solid rain, some simply broken fragments of wood that were otherwise untouched, but others smoked or were still on fire. It looked as if Faldrun himself had decided he needed a punching bag to let of some steam, and the ship had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If anyone had still been on board, or too close to the ship at the time of destruction—

Best not to think about that.

He quietly swam towards the riverbank instead, lest he freeze to death.