Inauspicious First Meetings

[Morgan LaLuna]

First port of call. His first landing on the journey so far, and he was nearly jumping off the ship before they were even docked. There was a palpable excitement among the crew, as well, and at least one young man that was a little quicker that the others lowering the gangplank. Morgan had given orders before docking as to what everyone was going to do… he and Bosun would be going to meet with the merchants he would need to know, and the crew would unload for them as they came to look at the goods they'd brought… and what they'd acquired. The young captain quickly ingratiated himself into the good graces of various merchants, happily kissing ass or whatever he needed to do. So charming was he, that he had very little problem offloading silk, cutlery, and other such items he'd… run across.


A time came when all was sold and the hold remained empty of any real cargo, and there was money in the pockets of crewmen that had been asea far longer than he had. He followed some of the crew to a seemingly favorite pub, and watched as merry making began, his amber eyes alight with the sheer awe of the rough place. A woman was drinking a sailor under the table, slamming her mug and laughing into his drunken bleary face just as he slid off the table to land in a heap on the floor. It wasn't long before Morgan was watching him get picked up, and thrown out of the door. Don't get pass-out drunk. Noted.


He was tipping up a mug when a pair of black eyes caught him, and he raised an eyebrow over the rim of the cup as he drank. Deep black, onyx, glassy and endless were these eyes. They half-lidded, and Morgan's teeth caught the lip ring within the hidden safety of the cup. He set the mug down and pulled his eyes away from the red-skinned horned man staring at him from among a small group of darkly-dressed people of all sorts. He gave a purposefully disinterested cat-like gaze over the people of the tavern. All this, and he didn't seem in the least bit surprised to feel the heat of another body side in close. A pleasantly hoarse voice rumbled in his ear.


"Do you play cards, Captain?"


Morgan lifted the drink for another sip, and leaned forward, willing the pink flush from his throat and cheeks as he tried to seem completely unaffected. "What game are you looking to play?" He answered carefully. Trying not to overdo the casual vibe. He leaned against the arm of his chair, and looked up to the tiefling, standing so very close and smelling of wood and ocean and a hint of something… more.


"Any game, as long as you're willin' ta bet." The horned man answered rakishly. He chanced brushing his fingers on Morgan's shoulder, and the captain found himself following this motion subconsciously toward the other. Little acrobat tugged along to do his little flips and rolls.


"What's the bet?" He asked, giving a sly smile.


"I bet I can have your clothes by the end of the night." There was a haughty guffaw, and Morgan leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs languidly and shifting to sit at a comfortable angle. "You can try." Was the reply.


It didn't take long for the two to get into conversation about port life, he had discovered the tiefling's name was Kymus, that he was a sneaky thing that heard more gossip than he had any right to hear, and was very powerful for it. They eventually started playing cards casually, and as the drinks flowed, the ante was upped by Kymus himself. "I'm not gettin' anywhere with this bet. If you lose a hand, you lose an article of clothing. Deal?" Morgan cackled, and ordered another round of drinks, dealing out the cards neatly. "Don't get mad when you're naked, horn boy."


The first game was rather intense, the two staring at eachother but Morgan was hardly able to keep a perfectly straight face. When their hands laid down, the tiefling gave a wry sort of grin, and raised an eyebrow. "Do I get to pick what you take off?" The acrobat scoffed at the better hand, and leaned back, kicking a boot off before setting it with a thud on the table. "Nope. Keep trying." He grinned wickedly, and pushed the desk toward Kymus.


The game went on for some time, after the music had started to die down, through two fights and a near full bar brawl that seemed to make the tiefling's eyes shine for a moment. It had been quite a lesson in give and take, for on the table were two pairs of boots, a black jacket, a vest, a white shirt, a pair of socks, a hair tie… they both sat hunched over the table, Morgan wearing only his pants and Kymus only ahead by a sock. Morgan's eye twitched in excitement at his hand, and he set his cards down, smiling wide. "Pair." Not that this was the best hand. Kymus simply smirked, and set down his hand. "Two pair. Off with the pants, then! Let's see your pirate skivvies!"


Morgan paused, and leaned forward, lowering his voice to a near whisper, relaying something to the man that had his eyes tick to the captain, then narrow pleasantly as he leaned back. "Is that so?" Morgan waved to his clothes, and shrugged. "So I guess you win?" He tilted his head. "What did you win, though?" He motioned to himself, and shrugged. "Not much else I can give, once you've taken my pants…" another whisper, this one from Kymus as he hovered over the table, the flat on one of his palms covering a fanned out hand of cards laid on the table. His head dipped and Morgan seemed to listen for a moment, his eyes closing as a flush started to burn at his cheeks. The young captain seemed rather short of breath a moment before he stood and turned away, motioning to the tavernkeep. He pulled a few coins from his pocket and set them on the counter for a room, and headed up the stairs without even one look back. He knew he wouldn't have to… he knew he was being followed. After all, he was only doing what he'd been told, right?


‐---------------------------------------‐‐-------


The next morning Morgan woke in a deep haze, groaning from the pile of rough blankets he had burrowed himself into. He sat up and rubbed at his aching skull, looking around the room with a grimace. The red-skinned man from the night before was gone, and he had nothing at all to remember him by but for the scent of wood, ocean, and something spicy. So very… he turned to pick his clothes up off the floor, and blinked. Had he tossed them in a chair? He looked around desperately, and found only his hat. His money pouch was gone, his clothes… all that was left behind was the hat. And really… he was thankful.

Because he still had to get back to the Heathen.

He groaned, and stuck the hat on his head, then took a deep breath... and left. It was going to be an interesting walk back, at least...

[Gwen Kasady]

First port of call. Their very first port they had come to on their short, but eventful, journey. Morgan and nearly everyone else on board were chomping at the bit when that little town came into view. She could feel the excitement in the air like electricity that passed from crewmember to crewmember. Even Bosun had a particularly noticeable glimmer in his eye as he propped one of those large feet on the railing and looked out over the water. As the dock they would tie to drew ever nearer, Morgan turned from the sight of Shipwreck and addressed the crew. To one he assigned the gathering of food for their continuing journey. To others he imparted the task of unloading their haul from the holds. Bosun and himself were to meet with the local merchants so Morgan could get to know them and the wares they sold. No doubt to find which merchants could be haggled down the lowest price as well. When it was her turn to receive an assignment, Gwen looked to her Captain, smiling expectantly before she was greeted with hesitation from her friend, followed by a sigh, and then.
“Gwen. Have fun.” he said, lifting a hand to pat her shoulder and smile at her.
“Of course.” she replied. The smile that graced her lips was polite, but it didn’t touch her eyes.

When the Heathen finally docked and the gangplank was lowered, Gwen watched with slight amusement as men all but climbed over each other to reach solid ground and not the rocking, creaking deck she remained on. Nearly all had filed down that wooden plank before she drew near it, intending to make her way down as well when watchful eyes turned to her and a slender brow was arched.
“What’s wrong?” Bosun asked, eyeing the girl suspiciously.
“What? Nothing.” Gwen answered, her eyes shifting to the much taller man to whom she offered that smile to as well. “Just waiting my turn.”
“Mm.” Bosun grunted the sound at her, his head lifting and his eyes taking to a slant as he eyed her suspiciously. “Seems it’s your turn now.” he added, sweeping one rather large hand out in front of him towards the awaiting gangplank.
“Seems it is.” she retorted, looking to that plank and then back to him with a smile. She hardly carried anything off of that ship with her when she went. What she did carry, however, was wrapped tightly in a small pack that hung off of her shoulder and bobbed at her waist when she finally did descend the gateway into Shipwreck. Bosun would watch her go silently for a long moment before he too disembarked and went in search of Morgan and merchants.

Gwen wafted her way through the streets just as silently, twisting and turning through busy passersby until she caught sight of one of the crew. Each time she did, she would draw nearer and crane her neck to see if she could see what they were doing, how they spoke to the merchant or peddler and what they were selling or buying. When the transaction was done, she would quietly slip away until she found the next crewmember, and the process would repeat itself. The beginnings of the day were spent in this fashion and before long, she looked in the distance to see the waning sun sinking into the ocean, the Heathen silhouetted in the orange ball until it slipped beneath the waves.

When those ice blue eyes again looked back to the town, she caught a glimpse of Morgan and a few other crew members heading into a pub, laughing and cavorting about. With another placid smile, she looked to a different establishment. One that looked far tamer than the bustling pub they had just disappeared into. “The Fairweather Inn’ just sounded calm to her, and it was an Inn. Surely they had showers as well.

Upon entering, she noticed that it seemed to some sort of common room whether other travelers or patrons gathered. There was a bar where several haggard old men sat, no doubt discussing life at sea or...whatever haggard old men discussed in the waning hours of the night cradling their beers. Behind that she could see a door. She imagined it led into a kitchen but she couldn’t be sure. To her right sat several tables that were long and had bench seats that could fit several people at once and beyond that a fireplace, cold and stagnant due to the remains of summer.
“Help ye, lass?” came a tittering voice from behind the bar. The woman was older. Heavy set with round, puffy cheeks that looked like they blushed like that whether she was happy or not.
“Yes. Do...do you have showers, I could use?” she stuttered out once she’d made her way a little closer.
“‘Course!” the woman exclaimed. “If ye go up those stairs, round the bend there, ye’ll see an open room with a shower ye can use fer now. Rooms fer rent too, if’n ye’r needin’ a place ta stay?” she explained, adding the option to spend some money if she had the need.
“No. Thank you. Just the shower for now. Thank you.” she said, blushing after realizing she’d repeated herself. Street rats were easy. You talked to them how you wanted. The older folks though. You had to watch what you said around those sometimes.
“‘Course, lass! You enjoy now!” the old barkeep said cheerily, watching as the young girl turned and made her way up those stairs.

The shower was nice. It was really, really nice if she thought about it. Hot water. No salt in it whatsoever. It had been...how long had it been since she’d had a shower? Long enough to know she desperately needed one. That’s all this rat new. As long awaited as it was, she took an inordinate amount of time in it, that was for sure. So long had she stayed in that shower that the mirror was completely fogged over and it seemed she had produced a thick, rolling cloud that hung against the ceiling of the room she found herself in when she finally did emerge. What came next she had waited for too. Going to the small pack she had carried with her, she carefully took the package from within and unwrapped it slowly before laying it on the bed and spreading it out to look upon it one more time. Ogling finished, she proceeded to put on the armor she had been gifted from the raiding of that other ship with red sails.

It fit perfectly over the outfit she had brought that matched. Partitioned panels rose high upon her neck, silver in color with elegant designs embroidered over the thick leather. Down the center of her chest was a strap that held that upper portion seated against her shoulders and anchored it to the lower portion. That middle section was more of the same leather that made up the panels that would protect her neck. Thick leather that molded around her waist and fit snuggly, held in place by three more horizontal straps that met in the middle and were kept in place by three identical buckles. Lower still, a thick belt hung slanted over her hips, one side of which carried a leather loop where she imagined that a certain sabre would fit perfectly.

Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she turned left and then right, trying to see it from every angle before bundling everything else up and placing it in the pack that had held the armor she now wore. Out the door she went, back into the Inn to see that there were quite a few more patrons now than there were when she’d first arrived. Descending the stairs slowly and looking at all of the new faces, one of the familiar ones turned to her with those perpetually blushing cheeks and a wide smile.
“Ye look a sight better comin’ down’n when ye went up, lass!” she complimented. “Care fer somethin’ ta eat afore ya go?” It was a polite offer, but the woman was determined to get some coin out of the girl before she left.
“That sounds nice.” Gwen admitted. Standing at the base of the stairs with one hand on the knob of the banister, she gave the woman a smile. She was getting hungry and something warm sounded good.
“Ata, girl!” the woman cried cherily. “Find yerself a seat and I’ll have it right out to ya, lass.” she added, wringing her hands on the bartowel at her waist before disappearing through that door behind the bar. Gwen, smiling again, looked out over the crowd of people and began making her way over to one of the bench style seats at one of those long tables. One that didn’t seem as crowded as the rest.

Unbeknownst to the girl that had just taken her seat at that table, a pair of green eyes had settled on her and watched intently. The boy, only a few years older than Gwen, leaned against one of the more shadowed walls of the Inn. One foot on the floor, the other rested against the wall behind it while fingers held a half smoked cigarette against dinghy teeth and he took a long draw off it. The long draw and resulting glow illuminated the boy’s face for the duration of it before he tossed the remainder away and pushed off of the wall with that cocked leg.
“Hey there,” he said. Having made his way over to the table Gwen sat, one foot came up to rest on the bench beside her as he leaned on that leg with his elbow.
“Hey,” she said back, looking up at him with a polite smile. They had been set upon by pirates. Splattered with blood because of it and she had killed two men during the skirmish. Morgan and, as far as she could tell, everyone on the ship looked at her weird because she was a girl, if she had to guess. She hadn’t been given an assignment due to leniency and now she would have to work extra hard to learn the skills the others already had on this outing. And now, there was some strange boy with ugly teeth and ratty looking hair looking down at her with a crooked smile. Things were looking better and better all the time!
“I, uh, haven’t seen you around before. You new in town?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah. No. We’re only in town for a little while but yes, I’m new?” she answered awkwardly. She hadn’t shared street ratinese with this boy before, so she tread carefully, at first.
“We?” he asked next, a curious brow arching as he looked around the room.
Before she could answer, the barmaid made her way over with a steaming bowl of stew and set it on the table in front of Gwen along with a spoon, a fork and a napkin.
“There ya go, lass! Enjoy!” she said, again cheerfully. To the boy she looked next and her expression seemed to turn stern as she elbowed him roughly. “You behave. Y’hear me, Billy?”
“Yeah yeah. I hear ya!” he replied, waving a hand dismissively at the nudge. With pursed lips and squinty eyes, the woman looked at him for a moment before turning back to Gwen, her cheery disposition returning immediately. “Y’need anything else, lass?” she queried
“No, thank you.” Gwen said, looking up to the woman with a smile. Turning to the small pack set on the other side of her, she opened a flap and produced a few coins for the stew. Handing them to the barmaid, she smiled when she deposited them into the meaty outstretched hand. “It smells delicious. Thank you again.”
“Of course, lass! Ye need ‘nything else ye just let me know.” she said, turning with a lingering scowl that landed on Billy for moment before she turned and made her way back behind the bar.
“What?” Billy blurted out when confronted with that scowl. Perfectly innocent he was! Or at least, that’s what he would have the girl sitting next to him believe. Gwen, having seen that accusatory scowl and the resulting retort, looked at the boy for a moment before turning her attention to the bowl and the savory smells that wafted up from it. Grabbing the spoon, she dipped it into the thick liquid and pulled out a heaping portion of meat, potatoes and carrots before blowing on it and indulging in the warm meal.


Green eyes followed the woman all the way back behind the bar, his brows lowered as he squinted at the woman menacingly. Once she was safely away and already attending to another customer, he turned back to the girl hunched over the bowl of stew. Leaning a bit, he looked past her to the pack he’d seen her retrieve the coins from before again focusing his attention on her. Not saying anything immediately, he leaned a little heavier on the arm at his knee and watched as she blew on that spoonful and then proceeded to take the whole thing into her mouth. The act caused one corner of his mouth to tick up into a greedy smile. Letting the foot propped up on the bench slip beyond it, he straddled the bench they both now sat upon and stuck his hand out with a dinghy, dirty smile.
“I’m Billy, by the way.” he said as a way of introduction. Gwen, with a mouthful of stew, chewed and looked over at him with chipmunk cheeks. Looking down at his hand and then back up to him, she finished chewing and looked back to her bowl as she pulled another spoonful out and readied to blow on it.
“Gwen.” she answered, flatly. She already didn’t trust him and she was hungry, so the stew got most of her attention. Billy, not liking the even tone he heard in response, squinted momentarily at the girl before yellowed teeth once again peeked out from behind cracked, dry lips.
“Say...how’s about, when you finish your stew, we go upstairs and get to know each other a little better?” he said. Suave. Debonair. The subtle reek of cigarettes on his breath was sure to have her in one of those beds near instantly. To sweeten the deal, he lifted a hand and rested it on her shoulder, beginning to rub. The response was instantaneous.
“Hey!” she yelled, spinning around and shrugging his hand off of her shoulder in the same movement. Turned to face him now, she glared at him. “Look. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. “‘How’s about’...” she started, her tone mocking. “I finish my stew and go back to my ship and you find somebody else to get to know?” she finished, stern and matter of fact. The momentary shock registered on the boy’s face, but soon melted into another sickening smile. She had a ship too. Well well. Must be his lucky day.
“Aww. Don’t be like that. How long have you been out? A week? Months? We could have some fun before you go.” Slick as snot. The fact that she was some sex starved seafarer and that it had been way too long since her last romp, he was convinced of. To remind her of this fact, his other hand lifted, this time aimed at the soft curve of her breast he could clearly see outlined by that top she was wearing. The response to this act, as it was the last, was instantaneous, though far more brutal than a shrug of her shoulder.

“What the fuck!?” The moment those dirty fingers touched the fabric of her shirt beneath the armor, Gwen’s arm rose to intercept his and push it away, sandwiching his forearm between hers and the edge of the table. She’d left her sabre on the ship. An oversight she wouldn’t let happen again. In the absence of a legitimate weapon, ice blue eyes looked over, searching the immediate area for anything she could use instead. Instantly, her gaze landed on the unused fork that had been set down with her meal. Those tines looked gruesomely effective under her near murderous gaze. Reaching over herself, she quickly grabbed the fork with an underhanded grip and brought it back with her. When she looked back at the still surprised expression on Billy’s face, she gritted her teeth. “I said…,” Drawing the fork up, she brought it back down swiftly until those sharp tines intercepted his hand directly in the middle of his palm. Following through, she lifted up off the bench and put her full weight behind it until she heard the definite *thunk* of metal meeting wood. “...No!” Gwen growled it. Her now blood spattered face inches from the boy’s and her eyes boring into his.
“AWWRG! Fuck!” Billy squealed out. With his arm pinned against the edge of the table as it had been, the surface of it acted as a fulcrum when Gwen drove that fork through his hand and pinned him to the table with it. His body lilted violently to the left and his other hand shot to the wounded appendage, grasping at the wrist and afraid to actually touch the impaling object jutting out of it. Momentary rage filled him, overpowering the pain, and he looked back to the woman that had just stabbed him with a fork. “You bitch!” he spat back at her, his other hand coming up in a wide arc and the back of his hand catching her flush across her cheek until it passed her in a wide arc.
“Ow!” she screamed, the sound coming out as a shrill, piercing note as she grabbed at her face. Only serving to enrage her further, ice blue eyes shot back to the man and she reached back over herself. The handle of that fork was again taken up and with a swift jerk, she pulled it from the flesh of his hand and sent it in another wild arc towards his opposite shoulder. Those blood soaked tines found the unprotected joint between pec and deltoid and sank into the boy’s flesh, jolting him backwards as his unpinned hand came to grasp at the fork now sticking out of another part of him. Mouth agape in a soundless scream, he looked to his wounded shoulder and then back at the girl in disbelief. Before he could say anything else or retaliate in any way, a large, green hand came seemingly out of nowhere. Fingers curling in the mangy hair of the body, his head was sent careening towards the surface of that table until another *thunk* was heard and Billy fell back unconscious to sprawl limpy on the bench behind him. Fork sticking out of his shoulder like a silver flagpole.

“Enough!” Bosun bellowed out, standing next to the now asleep boy and looking around at all the patrons poised like cobras in their seats.
“‘Ere now!” came the barmaid’s voice, angry and loud, as she rounded the bend in the bar with the rusty axe she now held in both hands. “Tha’ girl gonna come in ‘ere and stab my boy like that…,” she started. The unmistakable sound of steel being loosed from sheath a was heard, cutting the woman’s words off. A particularly gnarled and impossibly sharp dagger rose in front of her. The perilous, blood stained tip of that dagger coming to rest just before her nose, she froze and looked up to the orcish man holding it there. “I said...that’s enough.” he said, his voice calm and his words filled with ice despite the heat that had risen suddenly in the room. With his other hand, he beckoned towards Gwen, curling his fingers at her in a come hither motion as he kept that blade centered and began backing away towards the exit.

Gwen, wide eyed and back stiff, looked to the unconscious boy laying on the bench in front of her, then to the barmaid, the blade and finally Bosun when she noticed his hand motioning her to come along. Reaching back, she shouldered her small pack and then collected the bowl on the table with the remainder of her stew before rising from the table and hurriedly making her way to Bosun’s side. Slowly, cautiously, they both backed their way out of the Inn and soon found themselves walking on the pier that would lead them to the Heathen.

“He had it coming, y’know.” Gwen said, scooping up a spoonful of stew as they walked.

“Mhm.” Bosun replied. He didn’t look down at the girl as they walked, so she wouldn’t be able to see the wide, beaming smile that curled his lips with a proud smile.