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Gossip C11: Fri Aug 22 21:47:39 2014 by Merrisol (public)
GL-Minos: intensity low, trace cost 1, expires 03 Oct
Title: Musical Interlude
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The clever pirate-minstrel Captain Scallion was amongst those who set out to seek the Wave Dancer and approach whilst flying a black flag. He returned to roost some days later, telling of his new adventures through the Minos storms, and delivered the kicker with his usual poetical stylings:
"Gather 'round Mateys and / Pass over the dram as / My whistle be parched but / I'm still gonna yammer / On a quest through lightning / And Crack-a-Boom skies / Tracking ship fair elusive / 'Pon which certain doom lies!
"How you might wonder / If rumours speak truly / She dances waves heaving / Black skies as though blue she's / Not yawing nor weaving / Leaving all in her wake / Would bonny ship and captain / Still meet with this fate?
"On those gleaming white sails / My dark Nave did give chase / When he took to the rails / Bid myself draw apace / With the prodigal pirate / And deep was his laugh / At due warning delivered / Of Flame's deadly wrath!
"'I'd known all along / No cage could hold the beauty / She'd sizzle the.. hand.. / That would dare smack her - but I / Mean to face her anon / When she comes for me only / This time with sword drawn / and one will claim vict'ry.'
"Said he, what a rogue / Yet so gentlemanly too / Though the odds might be low / As the mood of the crew / Still that wasn't the worst blow / No man would argue / The Wave Dancer was cursed so / And here came the clue..
"My eyes spied an odd rat / going over the side / So clearly an omen that / Deserting its ride / Could mean he'd lose the battle / Or she'd see her pride / destroyed by tit-for-tat / assurance of woe b'tide!"
These catchy rhythmic verses have been making the rounds and vividly outline the stakes of the upcoming, inevitable conflict. Further, those sympathetic to Captain Merrisol's side are starting to rally with intentions of tipping the balance to his favour, if they aren't crushed by Gerard's fleet efforts first. The rat (and rap) omen-loving doomsayers insist there is no point in railing against fate. Besides which, who really wants to go up against the forces Captain Flame must herself be amassing?
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Merrisol has been off the ship for more than a day now, but the First Mate Mr. Anderson seems to take that in stride. The Wave Dancer continues on its eastern course across the Minos sea in variable, but not dramatic weather. The man in the crow's nest calls it out as he sights Hacha to the north, and the ship turns from it on a southeast heading. Ruby is free to roam above decks so long as she blends in with the general crew complement. Of particular interest would be the brilliant Storm Sails in square-rigged formation on the two-masted ship, and the formidable Storm Cannon set into the gunwale at the fore.
It's afternoon when Ruby gets that peculiar sensation she may or may not yet associate with an incoming trump call.
Always on the rear horizon, a trio of ships can be seen trailing after the Wave Dancer. One of them is a Nave, distinguished by its black sails.
Ruby just so happens to be spending quite a bit of time admiring the stormcrafting that has gone into the ship. Recent urges to learn how to replicate have helped her apply some focus to her usual urge-driven motivations. Standing tall next to the Storm Cannon, and running her hand slowly along the length. She lets the hand with three fingers remaining feel the texture and poke into grooves and creases, her mismatched eyes staring at it in a somewhat falcon-like intensity. The uneasy sensation of the Trump breaks her study and her hand goes claw-like on the cannon. She slowly turns her head about, as if the source could be detected through mere sight. And then she's moving her free hand to the pouch at her hip and pulls forth Merrisol's Trump with fingers that pinch it like the pincer of a crab. She brings it up to her milky pupil and stares intently into it.
Merrisol is patient, on the other end of the trump connection, gaze fixed on his newest card and waiting for Ruby to sort it out, make it stronger. His hair flickers upwards in the current, given he is deep undersea, dressed in semi-casual Rebmanware, that is: nearly nude and proud of it, enough to decorate with kelp fronds and shells and stuff. He's got another man in close contact, perhaps in a headlock? No no.. turns out it's a comradely arm across the shoulders, reassuring the tense or merely terse fellow that they will soon be into the old scotch and everything will look better through brandy-tinted mirror shades. Merri flinches abruptly. "Ruby.. no. Don't.. we're already .. using mine." He squints, trying to keep his gaze pinned to the card even while Ruby tries to bludgeon him with a feedback awareness loop through his own trump. "Put it away!"
Ruby doesn't need to be told twice. She blinks rapidly and shuffles a few steps, jamming the wee card back inbetween her assorted knickknacks and rolling her palm quickly over the flap after letting go. She squints and then closes her eyes to try and concentrate. "Bloody hell. What?" she asks a bit defensively. She takes a few steadying breaths and tries to send a more calm communication back. "I be so 'appy to receive your itch. What can I do fer you? By the way, you need extra sails or wax your rudder...got admirers sniffing me leg."
Merri looks blank for a couple of seconds. Is that a euphemism for...? "Oh - the ships? Three of them, yes? They're fine.. they're with the Dancer. Sort of a temporary escort." He tilts his head, studying her through the trump. "How are you taking to it? Do you think you're getting a handle on it? Because I'm going to ask you to pull us through. This is Martin, by the way." And that's all she needs to know right now, apparently. He waits expectantly.
Martin has been putting on a game face for a long day now. Being the inspiration for the people of Rebma means he can't be selfish and closet himself away until it's the right time. It's been such a long day of death and bloated bodies and gnarled destruction it's taken its toll. Martin may have spoken a little too harshly once or twice. Harsh enough for someone to take notice and too many whispers lead to rumors. Luckily it only happened once or twice before someone mentioned it. So he agreed to take a break as by now it was downgraded to a recovery operation and more organized action and waits for Merrisol to be ready. He nods to Ruby, "Hey." He's not at his best, but at least he's still cordial and manages a smile for her.
Ruby curls her broad lips into a distasteful look as she stands upon the deck, more solid footing now established. She screws her face up a bit more and the wind throws her dreds into a wild medusa-tangle behind her. "Oh, aye." This Trump business isn't in her comfort zone it seems. She frowns and something about this Martin fellow seems to illicit a brand new itch. And then more realization dawn upon her large cranium and her jaw saws slowly back and forth, grinding molars. She blurts, "Course I can! And you can call me Rutger if it isn't so. Truth. Just...give me a moment to..." her eyes get a little wild and then she moves away from the large hardpoint on the ship so that she's got some room around herself. "Here we go..." she extends her hand to Merrisol after uttering a few silent curses to the deep-down-nasties.
Merrisol nods, waiting, then hiking his browline encouragingly as she reaches for him in a manner consistent with understanding mystic juxtaposition. But... can she do it, first try? There are other ways onto the Dancer, of course, considering he and others managed to get to it several times even while trapped on the inside of the Antika storm. However, if there's one thing Merrisol is good for, it's making people take risks. It's.. character-building? "Good. Now recall how it felt those times you were pulled through.. it's not so much a feeling in your hand at first as it is a notion of a grip." He of course sends Martin through first.. since it's perfectly safe. Besides, Martin's a lucky guy. "Now, pull."
Martin waits patiently and offers an ecouraging looks. "Take it slowly. It takes some getting used to." He assures. He glances over his shoulder briefly but not for long. He keeps a hold of Merrisol's shoulder. Seems like the guy might have a lot on his mind right now... but then... he's the guinea pig. Right. "Oook." He looks hopefully at Ruby. Don't try this at home kids.
Ruby nods hastily and furrows her brows, creases emerging. "Grips...recall...Pull...Hold your hogfish!" she jibber-jabbers and hunches her shoulders. Anyone on deck probably thinks she's having /issues/. Issues near a Stormcannon. "I've pulled the plug on a bloody lake, I can pull you two skinny blokes...Pulled a le..." Whoops, wait. A notion you say. Threatening an aneurism, she flares her nostrils and takes the idea into her head and tries to firmly pull Martin through to the deck.
Merrisol comes through next with a film of clinging sea water that sluices to the deck once the new environment asserts its gravity. None of the deck crew are particularly startled by his appearance, although they linger over Martin a bit, since it's been a month or so and, well, they're pirates? Arrrr, a fine hostage you've caught, Cap'n. The bleedin' boss of Rebma, yar! He'll fetch us a pretty keg of silver, aye?
"Back to work," Merrisol interrupts before they further embarrass themselves in front of his friend and Liege. "Where are we, have we a sighting of Antika?"
"Land sighted, and all clear, Sir!" calls the crow's nest fellow. Yes, poor Antika has been relieved of that violent storm, even if the huge storm running a wall around the main island masses has grown proportionately in ferocity and strength.
"Let's continue to the eastern wall, then," nods Merrisol, satisfied. "Mr. Anderson, chart the course. I'll be below with the Lord Regent. Thank you, Ruby," he turns to the woman presently. "That was well done. Come join us for a drink?"
A lucky paw it is, aye... Martin lets out a breath but maintains his poise. "M'lady." He nods to Ruby, "A pleasure..." He doesn't kiss her hand, so obviously not a pansy. At the pirates he simply glowers. I ate the balls of a whale, kids. He's got a dangerous flare to those eyes for a moment there. He doesn't even have to say why he's come through with Merrisol becaues down below there be drinks! "Feel free to join us, Ruby. I've heard many good things of you."
The RAW balls of a whale, too.
Ruby tries to hide the shock from her face when Martin and Merrisol appear moistily upon the deck. Once her hand is free, she curls her fingers into her palm to smear off excess water. "Bloody blowfish and all their wee bubbly baabies." she intones gruffly. Her eyes stare with some mistrust at what they're relaying back to her brain. "Aye...Rubah." Yeah, they already know. "Let me just tie down a few things oop'ere. I'll let you blokes get settled before drinking all the good rum. Dead good." she suddenly remembers something having been said. "Aye...well, it's all good. What you've 'eard. Nothing 'orrible. And you can ca...I'll be down in a iffy-jiffy. You two prolly gots stuff to get knucky-knucky with first."
Merrisol agreeably nods to Ruby's delaying, needing no explanation, though he blinks an odd sideglance at her when she brings up that term 'knucky-knucky' again. "Uh.. you'll have to explain the meaning of that phrase sometime, Ruby," he frowns. "I hope it's not something untoward. It's just a bit of unwinding after..." Well, he'll tell her about Amber a bit later, particularly that Meijanri and her shop are fine. "Perhaps a round of cards. Nothing heavy," he promises, then leaves it at that while he shows Martin to the stairwell. One images there are plenty of reasons to put off drinking with Martin, especially with the prospect of a closer working relationship on the line. That forge access isn't a done deal yet!
Martin slings his arm around Merrisol's shoulders which is somewhat awkward looking since Merrisol is MUCH taller. "Cards it is." He agrees. Nothing untoward happening! There's none of his usual cheerful self, however. He looks rather grim, actually. "Just so long as there's plenty of liquor and you haven't run out of smokes." He heaves a heavy sigh. anything to really not think about what has just happened. "Any friend of Meijanri's is a friend of Rebma's." He gives Ruby a thumbs up.
Merrisol leads the way to the reclaimed office and pokes about for the stash.. now where...? "Ah, there we are." He opens the porthole window and a fresh sea air wafts through. He trusts Martin will make himself comfortable eventually. Whiskey or scotch, cigars or weed, poker or mini-soccer, it will be an Amber and worry-free couple of hours.
Martin eases into the relaxing bit. This is something he sorely needs, no one making demands on him. He takes the weed eagerly and the booze and lets Merrisol deal the cards. "He was the first one to take interest in me." Martin says after a while. "Anyway...I." A slight sniffle and he reaches up to stop what might be a tear. "Thanks. I really need this at least for a couple of hours. I have a feeling all hell is about to break loose." He lifts his eyes to his friend. "And no one is ready for it."
Gossip C11: Fri Aug 22 21:47:39 2014 by Merrisol (public)
GL-Minos: intensity low, trace cost 1, expires 03 Oct
Title: Musical Interlude
==============================================================================
The clever pirate-minstrel Captain Scallion was amongst those who set out to seek the Wave Dancer and approach whilst flying a black flag. He returned to roost some days later, telling of his new adventures through the Minos storms, and delivered the kicker with his usual poetical stylings:
"Gather 'round Mateys and / Pass over the dram as / My whistle be parched but / I'm still gonna yammer / On a quest through lightning / And Crack-a-Boom skies / Tracking ship fair elusive / 'Pon which certain doom lies!
"How you might wonder / If rumours speak truly / She dances waves heaving / Black skies as though blue she's / Not yawing nor weaving / Leaving all in her wake / Would bonny ship and captain / Still meet with this fate?
"On those gleaming white sails / My dark Nave did give chase / When he took to the rails / Bid myself draw apace / With the prodigal pirate / And deep was his laugh / At due warning delivered / Of Flame's deadly wrath!
"'I'd known all along / No cage could hold the beauty / She'd sizzle the.. hand.. / That would dare smack her - but I / Mean to face her anon / When she comes for me only / This time with sword drawn / and one will claim vict'ry.'
"Said he, what a rogue / Yet so gentlemanly too / Though the odds might be low / As the mood of the crew / Still that wasn't the worst blow / No man would argue / The Wave Dancer was cursed so / And here came the clue..
"My eyes spied an odd rat / going over the side / So clearly an omen that / Deserting its ride / Could mean he'd lose the battle / Or she'd see her pride / destroyed by tit-for-tat / assurance of woe b'tide!"
These catchy rhythmic verses have been making the rounds and vividly outline the stakes of the upcoming, inevitable conflict. Further, those sympathetic to Captain Merrisol's side are starting to rally with intentions of tipping the balance to his favour, if they aren't crushed by Gerard's fleet efforts first. The rat (and rap) omen-loving doomsayers insist there is no point in railing against fate. Besides which, who really wants to go up against the forces Captain Flame must herself be amassing?
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Merrisol has been off the ship for more than a day now, but the First Mate Mr. Anderson seems to take that in stride. The Wave Dancer continues on its eastern course across the Minos sea in variable, but not dramatic weather. The man in the crow's nest calls it out as he sights Hacha to the north, and the ship turns from it on a southeast heading. Ruby is free to roam above decks so long as she blends in with the general crew complement. Of particular interest would be the brilliant Storm Sails in square-rigged formation on the two-masted ship, and the formidable Storm Cannon set into the gunwale at the fore.
It's afternoon when Ruby gets that peculiar sensation she may or may not yet associate with an incoming trump call.
Always on the rear horizon, a trio of ships can be seen trailing after the Wave Dancer. One of them is a Nave, distinguished by its black sails.
Ruby just so happens to be spending quite a bit of time admiring the stormcrafting that has gone into the ship. Recent urges to learn how to replicate have helped her apply some focus to her usual urge-driven motivations. Standing tall next to the Storm Cannon, and running her hand slowly along the length. She lets the hand with three fingers remaining feel the texture and poke into grooves and creases, her mismatched eyes staring at it in a somewhat falcon-like intensity. The uneasy sensation of the Trump breaks her study and her hand goes claw-like on the cannon. She slowly turns her head about, as if the source could be detected through mere sight. And then she's moving her free hand to the pouch at her hip and pulls forth Merrisol's Trump with fingers that pinch it like the pincer of a crab. She brings it up to her milky pupil and stares intently into it.
Merrisol is patient, on the other end of the trump connection, gaze fixed on his newest card and waiting for Ruby to sort it out, make it stronger. His hair flickers upwards in the current, given he is deep undersea, dressed in semi-casual Rebmanware, that is: nearly nude and proud of it, enough to decorate with kelp fronds and shells and stuff. He's got another man in close contact, perhaps in a headlock? No no.. turns out it's a comradely arm across the shoulders, reassuring the tense or merely terse fellow that they will soon be into the old scotch and everything will look better through brandy-tinted mirror shades. Merri flinches abruptly. "Ruby.. no. Don't.. we're already .. using mine." He squints, trying to keep his gaze pinned to the card even while Ruby tries to bludgeon him with a feedback awareness loop through his own trump. "Put it away!"
Ruby doesn't need to be told twice. She blinks rapidly and shuffles a few steps, jamming the wee card back inbetween her assorted knickknacks and rolling her palm quickly over the flap after letting go. She squints and then closes her eyes to try and concentrate. "Bloody hell. What?" she asks a bit defensively. She takes a few steadying breaths and tries to send a more calm communication back. "I be so 'appy to receive your itch. What can I do fer you? By the way, you need extra sails or wax your rudder...got admirers sniffing me leg."
Merri looks blank for a couple of seconds. Is that a euphemism for...? "Oh - the ships? Three of them, yes? They're fine.. they're with the Dancer. Sort of a temporary escort." He tilts his head, studying her through the trump. "How are you taking to it? Do you think you're getting a handle on it? Because I'm going to ask you to pull us through. This is Martin, by the way." And that's all she needs to know right now, apparently. He waits expectantly.
Martin has been putting on a game face for a long day now. Being the inspiration for the people of Rebma means he can't be selfish and closet himself away until it's the right time. It's been such a long day of death and bloated bodies and gnarled destruction it's taken its toll. Martin may have spoken a little too harshly once or twice. Harsh enough for someone to take notice and too many whispers lead to rumors. Luckily it only happened once or twice before someone mentioned it. So he agreed to take a break as by now it was downgraded to a recovery operation and more organized action and waits for Merrisol to be ready. He nods to Ruby, "Hey." He's not at his best, but at least he's still cordial and manages a smile for her.
Ruby curls her broad lips into a distasteful look as she stands upon the deck, more solid footing now established. She screws her face up a bit more and the wind throws her dreds into a wild medusa-tangle behind her. "Oh, aye." This Trump business isn't in her comfort zone it seems. She frowns and something about this Martin fellow seems to illicit a brand new itch. And then more realization dawn upon her large cranium and her jaw saws slowly back and forth, grinding molars. She blurts, "Course I can! And you can call me Rutger if it isn't so. Truth. Just...give me a moment to..." her eyes get a little wild and then she moves away from the large hardpoint on the ship so that she's got some room around herself. "Here we go..." she extends her hand to Merrisol after uttering a few silent curses to the deep-down-nasties.
Merrisol nods, waiting, then hiking his browline encouragingly as she reaches for him in a manner consistent with understanding mystic juxtaposition. But... can she do it, first try? There are other ways onto the Dancer, of course, considering he and others managed to get to it several times even while trapped on the inside of the Antika storm. However, if there's one thing Merrisol is good for, it's making people take risks. It's.. character-building? "Good. Now recall how it felt those times you were pulled through.. it's not so much a feeling in your hand at first as it is a notion of a grip." He of course sends Martin through first.. since it's perfectly safe. Besides, Martin's a lucky guy. "Now, pull."
Martin waits patiently and offers an ecouraging looks. "Take it slowly. It takes some getting used to." He assures. He glances over his shoulder briefly but not for long. He keeps a hold of Merrisol's shoulder. Seems like the guy might have a lot on his mind right now... but then... he's the guinea pig. Right. "Oook." He looks hopefully at Ruby. Don't try this at home kids.
Ruby nods hastily and furrows her brows, creases emerging. "Grips...recall...Pull...Hold your hogfish!" she jibber-jabbers and hunches her shoulders. Anyone on deck probably thinks she's having /issues/. Issues near a Stormcannon. "I've pulled the plug on a bloody lake, I can pull you two skinny blokes...Pulled a le..." Whoops, wait. A notion you say. Threatening an aneurism, she flares her nostrils and takes the idea into her head and tries to firmly pull Martin through to the deck.
Merrisol comes through next with a film of clinging sea water that sluices to the deck once the new environment asserts its gravity. None of the deck crew are particularly startled by his appearance, although they linger over Martin a bit, since it's been a month or so and, well, they're pirates? Arrrr, a fine hostage you've caught, Cap'n. The bleedin' boss of Rebma, yar! He'll fetch us a pretty keg of silver, aye?
"Back to work," Merrisol interrupts before they further embarrass themselves in front of his friend and Liege. "Where are we, have we a sighting of Antika?"
"Land sighted, and all clear, Sir!" calls the crow's nest fellow. Yes, poor Antika has been relieved of that violent storm, even if the huge storm running a wall around the main island masses has grown proportionately in ferocity and strength.
"Let's continue to the eastern wall, then," nods Merrisol, satisfied. "Mr. Anderson, chart the course. I'll be below with the Lord Regent. Thank you, Ruby," he turns to the woman presently. "That was well done. Come join us for a drink?"
A lucky paw it is, aye... Martin lets out a breath but maintains his poise. "M'lady." He nods to Ruby, "A pleasure..." He doesn't kiss her hand, so obviously not a pansy. At the pirates he simply glowers. I ate the balls of a whale, kids. He's got a dangerous flare to those eyes for a moment there. He doesn't even have to say why he's come through with Merrisol becaues down below there be drinks! "Feel free to join us, Ruby. I've heard many good things of you."
The RAW balls of a whale, too.
Ruby tries to hide the shock from her face when Martin and Merrisol appear moistily upon the deck. Once her hand is free, she curls her fingers into her palm to smear off excess water. "Bloody blowfish and all their wee bubbly baabies." she intones gruffly. Her eyes stare with some mistrust at what they're relaying back to her brain. "Aye...Rubah." Yeah, they already know. "Let me just tie down a few things oop'ere. I'll let you blokes get settled before drinking all the good rum. Dead good." she suddenly remembers something having been said. "Aye...well, it's all good. What you've 'eard. Nothing 'orrible. And you can ca...I'll be down in a iffy-jiffy. You two prolly gots stuff to get knucky-knucky with first."
Merrisol agreeably nods to Ruby's delaying, needing no explanation, though he blinks an odd sideglance at her when she brings up that term 'knucky-knucky' again. "Uh.. you'll have to explain the meaning of that phrase sometime, Ruby," he frowns. "I hope it's not something untoward. It's just a bit of unwinding after..." Well, he'll tell her about Amber a bit later, particularly that Meijanri and her shop are fine. "Perhaps a round of cards. Nothing heavy," he promises, then leaves it at that while he shows Martin to the stairwell. One images there are plenty of reasons to put off drinking with Martin, especially with the prospect of a closer working relationship on the line. That forge access isn't a done deal yet!
Martin slings his arm around Merrisol's shoulders which is somewhat awkward looking since Merrisol is MUCH taller. "Cards it is." He agrees. Nothing untoward happening! There's none of his usual cheerful self, however. He looks rather grim, actually. "Just so long as there's plenty of liquor and you haven't run out of smokes." He heaves a heavy sigh. anything to really not think about what has just happened. "Any friend of Meijanri's is a friend of Rebma's." He gives Ruby a thumbs up.
Merrisol leads the way to the reclaimed office and pokes about for the stash.. now where...? "Ah, there we are." He opens the porthole window and a fresh sea air wafts through. He trusts Martin will make himself comfortable eventually. Whiskey or scotch, cigars or weed, poker or mini-soccer, it will be an Amber and worry-free couple of hours.
Martin eases into the relaxing bit. This is something he sorely needs, no one making demands on him. He takes the weed eagerly and the booze and lets Merrisol deal the cards. "He was the first one to take interest in me." Martin says after a while. "Anyway...I." A slight sniffle and he reaches up to stop what might be a tear. "Thanks. I really need this at least for a couple of hours. I have a feeling all hell is about to break loose." He lifts his eyes to his friend. "And no one is ready for it."
