Forging Alliances

[rassafraggin]

A day into the Amber tsunami disaster and before the official proclamation from Random about the late Prince Benedict, it was becoming obvious to Merrisol that the strain of holding things together in order to rally the Rebmans in rescue and relief efforts was getting to Martin. Two snappish replies to flustered aides, and then Merri had spirited the Regent away to Minos via a trump-fumbling Ruby.

Scotch.. whiskey.. cigars and stash.. high-stakes poker and mini-soccer tournaments! All the mindless chummy times one can fit into a couple of hours' respite, to be had in the former First Mate's cabin. And maybe a little bit of business chat with a prospective smith and craftsperson thrown in, for Ruby did say she'd be along after a while.

Through the porthole window, one can see that the Wave Dancer is skimming a heading between Hacha and Antika, fleeing the setting sun on the western horizon. What cannot be seen from this angle are the three mercenary ships on that horizon, always trailing along after the Dancer, one of them a Nave with black sails. Kind of creepy, but as per usual, Merri declares they are perfectly safe.

Martin seems to be feeling a lot better after the past couple of hours. Relaxing even, his expression has eased up and though he seemed pretty broken up at first he did not collapse into tears or otherwise do anything unmanly. He does however, lose one game to Merrisol.

Ruby wrestles the door to the cabin open and lumbers inside, her face dripping with what looks like a recent face-full of sea-spray. "Come'n through." she mutters, navigating further inside to lay her peepers upon how the two fellas are getting along. At first she's a little taken aback, seeing all the cards on the table. A moment later and she resumes locomotion, realization forming that they're playing games.

Merrisol has changed from Rebman back to Minosian in one fell wardrobe swoop, and there are clothes changes always available for Martin, whose visits are typically 'straight out of nearly-nude Rebma'. He is still reeling from this rare victory at cards, for his poker-face is a terrible non-existent thing, when he looks up to see Ruby enter. He stands up in an ingrained gesture of civility, but casualizes it with a wave of his scotch glass to the set-up on the built-in bookshelves, of spare tumblers and two well-aged bottles taken from a secret compartment through the pine backing. "Help yourself. We're.. three.. no, four.. ahead of you.. you'll have us at a disadvantage if you don't catch up," he frowns. Something is still wrong with this picture... right. "One sec.." He pilfers his pocket for his trump tin and looks through for the right one before gazing at it. Tipsy-trumping: "Maggah.. er. Maggie," he ahrms. "Could you use a break from there for a bit? I've got Martin here.. and Ruby. We... well, if you were here.. it would be more proper," he admits in a stage-whisper. After a moment he smiles brightly and extends his hand.

Martin thumbs up at Ruby, "Merrisol's won for the first time ever." Martin stares at the cards. Usually even drunk and stoned he wins. Perhaps he hasn't been playing close attention. "Tell Maggie if she doesn't come there'll be a threesome!"

Ruby raises an arched brow up on her forehead and runs her tongue along the front of her teeth. She keeps her lips closed for this. As the liquor is pointed out, she diverts her course and settles in front of the available refreshments. "Busy day for you lot. Truth. I can smell it. Scent 'o..." she pauses and lays hands on one of the bottles. "Catch up, right? Dead right." she nabs one bottle, the less full if possible, and hunches to avoid braining herself on overhead beams or supports. Her dreds framing either side of her face wave to and fro, a few beads wooven within clack together. "What's this then? Threesome? I ain't much for games, but I give as good as I gets. And you can call me Reese if it ain't so."

Whatever her circumstances over yonder, whatever the reply given, she does take Merrisol's hand. Stepping out of two-dimentional, rainbow limned space into three-dimentional reality, she looks worn. Her smile for the blond man is warm, however, and much of the care falls away as she steps forward. Martin and Ruby are given a warm smile and a "Hello," before she looks back to Merrisol. Lifting a bit, she places a kiss on his lips. Though it is brief, it is warm. "Hi." She catches a word as Ruby speaks and it isn't 'Reese'. "A threesome? Too many people here for that." Laughter long missing from her gaze sparks within, though it remains silent for now. "Is that rum?"

"It is something alchoholic with just the right twist for an occasion such as this one." Martin agrees. He gets up and goes over to gather Maggie in a big hug. No tears now.. Just a hug. "Drink with us. Play with us. Lets forget the crap for a couple of hours."

"Reese....Ok then! It'll be a fouresome." He smiles at Maggie but there is very little in the way of humor there. It's the kind of humor you get after a lot of drink. "It is something alchoholic with just the right twist for an occasion such as this one." Martin agrees. He gets up and goes over to gather Maggie in a big hug. No tears now.. Just a hug. "Drink with us. Play with us. Lets forget the crap for a couple of hours."

Merri almost turns a look of shock at Martin and loses Maggie mid-grab. Almost. But her trump card does get a dunking in scotch as it slips from his fingers a short distance into the glass held in the same hand. He shakes his head nopenopenopenope while determinedly focusing on the pull-through, and is well-rewarded at its conclusion. He leans his head lower instinctively to receive the kiss, before he can think to sort out just how much Ruby knows of their supposed adversarial situation. Well, the cat's out of the bag now, and it's calling, 'Get a room! Hah!' "...Hi," he whispers back, and straightens up, surveying and pointing at Ruby's bottle first. "Scotch, that one. There's more of whiskey. Rum in the galley stores if you prefer.. I'll get it," he offers, while pulling a fold-out chair over to the card table. Martin's turn to deal. "I did.. I won the last game.. three of a kind!" he beams, ignoring the 'foursome' remark. "Ruby, best tackle your subject before he gets his game face back on."

Ruby nods in greeting the Maggie and adds a wink for good measure. She hefts her bottle up by the neck. It is given a clockwise swirl. "Aye. Drinks. I...have to catch'oop." she offers in apology, bogarting an entire bottle. She graciously offers it towards Maggie. "Well this is dandy." Whoops, she went and got all Martin-ed. She takes a quick pull of the bottle before getting ready to offer it again. The burning subsides and she feels confident to speak again. "Reese?" she mouths, confused for some reason. "Roight...Busy-ness. Forge-work. Swing'n hammers and bending metal. Maggie 'ere...she was sayin something about maybe I could lay me hands on a forge and then there was talk that needed to be done through wee cards and promises and deals."

Maggie would admit, if asked, that she forgot about their adversarial situation. The work of pulling live people, then dead, out of Amber's harbour drove it from her mind. The joy of seeing them alive, him alive, had to be expressed. She'll.. worry about it later. Returning Martin's hug tightly, she nods, "Drinks and playing. That sounds like a good plan." Releasing her cousin, then, she shakes her head to Merrisol, "It's okay. Whiskey is fine. I'm not much of a scotch person, typically." Lifting a hand, she shakes her head to Ruby's offer but then moves to claim first the bottle of whiskey, then the chair Merrisol kindly brings over for her. Listening, she nods when Merri and Ruby have finished speaking, "I was thinking that Ruby could use the forge, Martin. She has agreed to sign the non-disclosure agreement. Did you sign it already, Ruby? I am sorry... I don't remember."

Martin eyes Merrisol. "I'll be watching this time!" No he won't he's too distracted tonight. Merrisol can win back clams. "Yes, there is a Forge on Gwyn Gaer. Maggie was saying. Rebma could use contact with a good smith if you are willing to produce for us as well from time to time there should be no issue with using the forge. Any friend of Meijanri's, Maggie and Merrisol is a friend of Rebma's." He clears his throat and gets down to the business of the swearings. "The forge is on a secret military base, hence the need for the oath. As for drinks. I'll drink anything..." he pauses and realizes that must be clarified. "Alchoholic." He sits back down in his chair and grabs the deck to shuffle the cards in a show-off type fashion all about the fingers and stuff.

Merrisol studies Martin shrewdly, well, except his eyes might cross slightly when he stares too long. Hic. "I really should have gone double or nothing last game.. hm." Ah, hindsight. It's going to take forever to whittle down that 750K clam debt. He checks the door to the corridor, and refills his and Martin's glasses with the hard stuff before resuming his seat at the table, just listening to the forge chatter. He then admits, "I've tried to get the Dancer through the storm wall, but this time, even with the storm goddess's artifact, we've been denied. Ruby, you'll likely need to trump back to Amber with Maggie and work out some other passage to the island when the time comes."

Ruby mirrors the head shake in response to the signing question. And then she's suddenly nodding along in the affirmative as Martin mentions the holy trinity of M's. She then doesn't know exactly how to transistion into something diagonal and gives up. She takes a drink and squints one eye closed while she digests the facts of this particular forge. A small bead of her drink threatens to escape her lips and she viciously tugs in her bottom lip to quash any thoughts of escape. She clears her throat and cranks the handle on her motormouth. "Aye. Friends. Friendlah. We've shared moo-ments." she practically brays and then regards Merri for a moment, "That so? Amber...Well, what's another headache, aye?" she grins and then stalks a bit closer to where Martin makes the cards dance. "I'm willing. Truth. Lips can be sealed, oaths fed'n bled if need be. Not sheepish...Though me prices for some be...deer..." she suddenly squints and opens her mouth (avec scent of alcohol), awaiting the reception of her feeble joke with the anticipation of an annoying aunt.

Maggie leans back in the chair, her hand holding the bottle of whiskey she claimed. Realizing she is holding it too tightly, she eases the grip a touch and reaches for a glass. Pouring a measure into it, she takes a long swallow, then refills the glass. Setting the bottle down, she considers the cards on the table, "I never did get the hang of poker. Martin's always been good at it." Looking up as Martin accepts Ruby as the smith in Gwyn Geer, she smiles a warmer smile, "She wants to learn stormcrafting, Martin. Very useful stuff..." Sighing a bit, she starts to relax at last, unwinding slowly. "Oh. Yes, I can being you back to Amber, Ruby. Just say when."

Martin nods. "You'll have to say the oath then and sign the paper and all of that and should be good to go." He rubs his eyes tiredly. "Stormcrafting is an excellent skill to research, yes." Cards are dealt out and Maggie included in the game of hearts. "I believe I saw you at the last Rebman Court." He grins at her suddenly then, a bit disarmingly all things considered. "I'll be glad to welcome you to Gwyn Gaer."

A few beats before Ruby's awful joke starts to die a cricket-chirping death, a... snicker.. leaks out of Merri. Baahh, he's had too much drink.. or Ruby too little.. but there's no excuse for these mis-herd puns. Tongue-in-cheek.. or hoof-to-mouth. He glances to his left at Maggie when she agrees to usher Ruby away, and sobers somewhat, perhaps because it means they'll have to take Ruby aside to forewarn her of the ways Amber has changed since she was there last. Probably also because when they go, and Martin too.. Merrisol cannot follow. He'll be alone again. Sad Pirate studies his cards.. hrmph.. no heart cards! Wah!

Ruby runs her hand past her headband and rakes her hair into a more orderly manner. "Thanks Maggah. That's a kindness." The large woman looms over the table and watches. "Aye...Some of the bits on this ship, they're all manner of spiffy. Quality. Craft'n. Need to stuff that in me brain-bag and make it permanent." She drinks again and then tries to return the offered grin. Almost responds first. Nooo, keep things simple Ruby. "Court...Aye, that's right. Cap'n Kell was lauded with awards. Come to think 'o it...Everybody here was." Except Zoidberg! "I'm sorta stranger to such things. Fancies and dancies and such. I'll do right by ya though. Count on me, 1-2-3."

* * * * * * * * * *

Whoo-ah. Did they just sail into the storm wall? Merrisol did not mean to fall down in his chair like that. The view through the porthole window shows a hazy night sky, since the atmosphere is being disturbed by the sheer dense mass of the storm that has only begun to loom on the eastern horizon. The ships have released their anchors to keep from drifting much closer, waiting through the night until daybreak before any new attempts are made to investigate that destructive phenomenon. Still, rolling thunder nicely introduces the next order of business: Merrisol unbuttoning and shrugging right half of his shirt off one broad, tan shoulder. Yessah.. it's time for the arm wrestling tournament!

Ruby is currently looming over one of the shelves. She's been busy emptying a few glasses of drink into her mouth and mixing a few jars and wee pewter bowls. And if a few things get a little mixed up, who's it gonna hurt? She burbles a jaunty little tune she dredges up from her subconscious, heavily adlibbed with the reek of alcohol. Ruby rests her forehead against one of the shelves while she peers down at her little mobile mixing set. A set of needles threatens to roll out of the cradles chipped out of a mixing bowl, a tiny flame trying to blacken the pointy little bastards. "...Duwn'nna'deep...where't'slooshes'nsleeps...jaws'r'needles...chomp'n'peeples..." smores and campfire stuff, truly. She adds some water to some oily looking filth and separates a few of the liquids to cure off to the side. She turns her head and brays over her shoulder. "Tha's right. Don't want any of your fancy frills getting in the way. Take off the whole shirt. Truth. In-ter-feres with me..." she raises a free hand and wavers it around in the air cryptically.

After how many drinks? How many card games? Even Maggie's fairly solid ability to hold her drink has been challanged and she kind of stumbles against the cabin's door before wrenching it open. Stepping into the room she pulls the door closed. Before turning around, she loosens the ties holding her vest closed, then pulls the garment off. Turning to walk across to the wardrobe she spots the two already here. Her deer-in-the-headlights look might be comical though it is followed by quick relief when she remembers that she is wearing a blousy shirt under the vest. Whew. Blinking then, a bit owlishly, she folds the vest carefully and moves toward the desk to lean against it. "You're getting a tattoo, Kerf?" So observant... "That'cha getting?"

Merri lifts his gaze from the table, up and up, to study Ruby muzzily. "Is just a shirt.. nothin' fancy." But he rolls his other shoulder, letting it fall away fully and bunch to his wrists, then reaching around behind the backrest to catch a cuff in his fingers, dragging out of one sleeve, then the other. And so there is nothing that could interfere with her hand-wavy, except for a deep red leather wristband, but that's on his left arm. Arranged all relaxed in his seat at the card table, he turns a bit to look at Maggie as she comes in and appears to be following the same shirtless directive. She stops at just the vest though. Boo. He smiles broadly at her, eyes narrowing down to pleased slits. "Yeah." He pauses to eye the many bowls and tinctures Ruby seems to have acquired since Antika. Must have been an ink sale in Cameron she'd been gunning for, right? Right. "Started thinkin' 'bout our big fight comin' up. 'Course you'd have Muir Damh Lasair, Hotstuff... is only proper. Then.. started thinkin'. Well. Should do somethin' 'bout that." He hikes his long, muscular arm onto the table, and reaches his other hand to pat in the general area of sinew beneath his shoulder. "Fire salamander should do the trick."

Ruby starts to systematically pluck up each of the sterilized needles, tests their warmth on a thumbpad and then inserts them into a hanging coil of dreds. The smell of burning hair lingers a tad in the cabin. Cradling an assortment of bowls and jars, some of which bear the odd sigil and thumbprint here and there, she waddles carefully to the table and sets them down. "Maggah." she offers in greeting and then seeks a chair to straddle. She humps it closer to Merrisol, making painful and protesting wooden sqwauks against the floor. "Good...someone to hold his hand." she chortles deeply and eyes Merrisol with cock-eyed expression. A glint of true anticipation twinkles in her non-milky eye. "It'll do more than one trick. That's where he'll live...at your shoulder. Wee little squiggy...but noble, aye?" she reaches forward and grasps your shoulder in a firm grip. "He's gonna live 'ere. But when you need'm...lil squeakah...'e gonna wind his way all the way down here..." she drags two nails in a wavy pattern down to the back of your wrist. "Around 'ere is where he'll bask. His rock. 'E likes baskin. Scaly bugger. You're in for a treat, and so is the wee flaming scoot." She digs her fingertips into the back of your hand hard.

Maggie returns Merrisol's smile with one clearly reserved for him alone. Tiny sparks flare in her eyes and wee lines crinkle delighted mirth to her eyes. The smile fades, however, when he reminds her of the duel to come. Squeezing her eyes shut for a second, she nods, "S'a good idea, Kerf." Opening them, she moves forward as Ruby does. Looking up to Merrisol's shoulder, she tilts her head so she can follow Ruby's trailing touch down his arm to his wrist. Pulling another chair nearby, she settles it near Merrisol's left side. "It'll contribute t' Cap'n Merrisol's legend. He's fireproof." Emerald eyes sparkle again though the mirth within is of a different sort, "What other tattoos do y'do, Ruby?"

Merrisol's attention arcs back the other way once Ruby gets a grip on his shulder. His brows go arching upwards as he processes Ruby's description into some kind of mental picture, animated, and not just in that rippling glow that means the magic is working. Sharp intake of breath, then, as she sinks her fingers into the tendons of his hand. Large, solid hand it is, but she's got him good. He recovers, and his arm, while flexed tensely, has not drawn away. "That's... different.. from what I've seen of those types of tattoo, Ruby," he frowns thoughtfully, while his eyes track over to the amalgamation of designs visible upon the artist's own skin. Hadn't there been times, on Antika, when...? So it wasn't just a trick of the light and rain reflections tracking down windows. Maggie's remarks draw his focus back to her at last, and he nods grimly. "Just need to get my hands onna sword of 'ppropriate matchin' flashiness, an' we'll be set.." He hushes to hear more from Ruby's creative repertoire.

Ruby turns her gaze towards Maggie as she asks about what other tatts are on tap. She starts to grin and the edges of her mouth start to widen like a joker in a pack of cards. Likewise the accents at the corners of her eyes sharpen and attempt to curl catlike towards her temples. An unfortunate looking skull on her shoulder is suddenly home to a rather defensive Eel that pokes out of an eyesocket before escaping into the other hidey-hole. "The ones that I can remember..." she considers and her little display fades as she puts a request into memory retrieval. "All manner, Maggie. I can make you shrug off burnin, get'n hit by lightnin, get'n stabbed, breathing like a fish, hide yer arse anywhere...Working on one about the them scary bastards that live real deep...they glow, but it's not quite right yet. Forgotten a lot, but it's coming back like a hammah." she taps her head. "Beginning to think me hide is more than just a warning or bloody advertisement. A few been whisper'n. A few been wanting to stretch their legs."

The large woman turns her gaze back to Merrisol. "These be tatts 'o /quality/" she stresses the word. "These ain't daggahs in skulls or your bloody mum's name. Truth. These hold powers. Right? Dead right. I can stitch you into a bloody /untouchable/ bastard with enough time. I can do it with grace." she hisses the last word like a snake. She reverse-slithers her two fingers back up to Merrisol's shoulder, indenting flesh and muscle with pressure. She plucks a barbed needle from within a dred and blows on the tip. She then slowly dips it into a small reservoir of inky fluid.

Maggie leans back in her chair, arms lifting to cross in front of her chest. Emerald eyes flicker down Merrisol's arm, then lift to his eyes as he speaks. "Mmm. Finding one's gonna be... Int'resting. I mean... We never heard back from Cindre. Maybe Maereina can make you something. Dunno. You could get'er to install the orb too. That'd be good. Though she might'n't do it for you. Uncle Caine wants me t'meet her at the Embassy'n Amber once things settle a bit. I guess. I should send a bird." then her attention turns to Ruby again and she blinks as an eel slorps from one skull's eye socket to the other, "Oh, man. That's just... Really creepy..." And, pretty cool. "Um. Don't need fire or lightning, personally. But... T'would be good not to get stabbed. Lemme think about it."

Merrisol sits in a quietly attentive daze to receive the responses on both sides, gaze skipping to and fro between Maggie and Ruby, though lingering on the latter while the woman's face undergoes contortions that could only be possible with a special effects makeup artist. Talk of /whispering self-aware body art/ aside, this.. /should/ be about the time that Merrisol stands up, shaking off Ruby's grasp, and sweeps all the insidious tools and media off the table like a sore loser at checkers. But.. hic.. nope. He huffs out a quiet chortle of disbelief at all the creepy, and swings his gaze back over to Maggie, to see if she saw what he saw. "Oh.." he blinks, reviewing some of her remarks that done slipped by, "Caine did? I should talk to him too, some point. Prob'ly too soon to be botherin' either of 'em with our personal problems, though." He then goggles at Ruby's arrogant mission statement and tip-toeing fingers, and /finally/ a hint of caution seeps into his expression. "Ah.. just the one, for now, Ruby." He reaches out with his free hand to place over Maggie's nearest arm. If he passes out, it's up to her to stop the free-for-all scribble session!

Ruby twists the pads of her fingers into Merrisol's shoulder and nods slowly. "There he is. Salamanders be sneaky, but I can see his wee shadow. He's lookin at me like with an eye like a black pearl Aye, wanna leave Bism an hang with this bloke here...aye? Course you do." she mumbles and then blinks. Some word said by Maggie has broken her artistic trance for a second there. She brings the needle up out of the black ink and then shifts it to another flask where she dip and contaminate the clear looking fluid. The thin length of metal is tugged out and brought closer to Merrisol's flesh. "This'll sting." The needle-work commences. The needle is dwarfed by her fingers but she applies it quite steadily, like a sewing machine. She pierces the skin immediately between her two fingertips, like crosshairs.

Ruby directs her next words to Maggie while she works, "Be like iron if you do. Laugh off arrows...blades...Teeth. Save yer life long enough to end the bastard before he tries again. And then no one try that again. Legends start. Words spread. Wear the mark proudly. Turn a blade be like turnin fate on it's 'ead. Fate'll respect you, death'll nod his pale 'ead." she drones hollowly , dipping her needle into a jar every so often. She hums as she works.

Maggie nods, "Yeah, he did. Don't know why, though. Unless it is about something done on Antika. Maybe he's going to ask me to repair the observatory's floor." She blinks owlishly at Merrisol, then tilts her head a bit, "Uncle Caine? You want me to trump him for you? Or... you could borrow my trump if you want." She pauses for a moment, then shrugs, "Gotta find a sword before you talk t'him anyway so I guess there's time." Blinking three times as Ruby details how her tattoo could help Maggie avoid a grim and grusome cutting. Slowly she lowers her hand as Merrisol reaches for her arm. Taking his hand in hers rather than having his rest on her arm, she considers the offer. "Maybe. Lemme think 'bout it, Ruby." Tilting her head a bit, she watches the large woman manipulate the delicate needle with such machine-like precision. It is an odd thing to watch, really. Each little pin-prick deposites a dot of ink beneath the skin. It is sort of like watching a pointalist artist breath life onto a canvas. Only the canvas is Merrisol's skin.

Not unlike getting nibbled by deep sea eels, with their gaping mouthfuls of needle teeth. And he should know. Merrisol gazes stupid-boldly down his shoulder while Ruby pecks the critter into existence, apparently hiding in his arm the same way a flute waits in a block of wood to be discovered by a wood-carver, or how a sad clown wants to come to life on every swatch of brushed velvet. After a little while, the newly-flayed feeling starts to set into Ruby's workspace, and Merri sets his jaw against that discomfort and flicks his gaze back to the woman to watch her curiously during some of the mantra-like statements. Dark unbidden thoughts of her telling the group on Antika that gods are like sharks, startle him from the hazy stupor that had stolen him away as a result of listening to Ruby's humming a little /too/ closely. He drags his attention to the comforting reality of Maggie's hand in his, on the other side of the table. "Almost lost your arm that time in the madhouse," he murmurs to her, still in that Contemplative Drunk stage. "Dunno that an indellel.. indelidul.. a /permanent/ shield would be a worse mark than that gash, on your lovely skin, Only." Although.. the slash /did/ heal up, eventually.