Action: The Hakseer (NSFW)

[Zephyr]

Gaiwyn's breath was long and deep, its warmth soft on his cheek. This meant she was either in a very deep sleep or just pretending to, ready to kick him in the nuts if he made off. Still, he had come here to do a job and he sure as hell did not want to disappoint Viseryn.
He got up, cringing whilst doing so, ready for anything but it seemed Gaiwyn was indeed fast asleep. He looked at her for a while and praised himself lucky. She was a catch alright. All curves and nice firm breasts that now slowly moved up and down with her breathing.
And let's not forget a complete beast in the sack, Tenril smirked to himself.
He noticed the ring on her finger and cursed himself for being so weak, for them both being weak. They had their fallouts now and then but they both knew they were deep into that terrible l-word. That thing no sane Druchii would admit to.
He quickly dressed himself, taking Snappy of Gaiwyn's legs carefully the lucky bastard got some of the action too and went downstairs again. He wrote a note at a table and left it with Marith.
"Make sure Gaiwyn gets this, open it and..."
"Yeah, yeah." Marith growled making a gesture with his hand slicing across his abdomen. "What she would do to me would be far worse though mister Gutripper sir."

Tenril sighed and made off to the center of the room, dexterously jumping on one of the tables. Some of the corsairs present looking up at what was about to happen. He drew his weapon and pointed it in the air.
"Today is your lucky day ya scurvy maggots! Good payment and great loot is to be had for those with the balls to take on Norscans first and all sorts of critters and coasts after that.
A Noble lord on his Hakseer is seeking glory, fame AND...more importantly, riches! I'm seeking able bodies to join us but beware, this guy will not take any smartassing, asskissing or anything else to do with asses."
Tenril looked around in the room, trying to evaluate the Druchii in front of him.
"Any mutineering and I will gut you myself! Do your job well and you will be well rewarded."

 

[Shareya]

Calmly Rythia had turned her head just so she could offer her Lord a loving smile. The noble was seated on the side of his bed and her right hands digits casually danced over a bound form while her own was still covered by her new attire.

"Shall I take my leave?" Slowly, carefully the young noble had stood up before brushing down her skirt with both hands.

The asur slave looked quite healthy and of course delightfully furious. Her tormentor had decided to bind her hands above her head and slip a strap of silk cloth between her lips to keep her silenced. There was no need to risk having her lash out with her sharp tongue when there was a chance that the Dreadlords mood was still foul. A few candles had also been placed around the bed itself to cast just enough light to properly allow Viseryn run his gaze over his new plaything.

The elf was clearly quite young and her defiant eyes only served to enhance the natural beauty her sharp features held. No scars or any other unwanted marks could be spotted on her body, which made it ever so obvious that she was no warrior. While a human might call the asur quite pale then by Druchii standards her skin held a pleasant pink tone that was quite rare in the Land of Chill. The pale complexion was also complicated by the bound elf's light blonde hair that sadly was still not washed and some strands clung to their owners cheeks.

"I sadly did not have time to wash her properly." While a apologetic smile was offered it was clear enough that Rythia had no desire to even try to clean the poor thing before her Lords arrival. Sweat covered skin did always glisten beautifully in candle light.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith stifled a sigh at the sight of the Asur slave, the assassin was sure the glaring elf would be broken into the perfect obedient little pleasure slave but he didn't like it.

The thought disgusted him, what an utter and terrible waste, as where all their misguided cousins that had been treated as such. As wrong as they where they didn't deserve this. No. She should have been sacrificed to Khaine.

But Arkeith wasn't a priest, it wasn't his job to lecture the highborne on such matters.

The slightest ruffled of his cloak was the only sign of the Khainite sheathing is dagger.

 

[Duke Danse Macabre]

*Speaking over his shoulder to Sar'geth*

"Your feet would be clad in leather, not steel, we don't want you making any noise and having plate boots would only slow you down and adversely effect your footing making actions more difficult."

*Spotting a stall in between the others selling what looked to be more akin to the armour he desired to acquire he strode over the crowd parting before him never coming within sword range where as elsewhere they were pressed up close to one another like rats.
No matter where you found an executioner, they were always feared and that in this world was as likely as you were going to get to respect.*



*Speaking to the trader in a tone that made out he was not the kind to suffer fools lightly born from the surety of his craft and experience*

"I need a suit of armour for my friend here."

*Gesturing over his shoulder to where Sar'geth was behind him whilst he cast his eyes around, unfortunately all the armour was silver but that could be painted and covered over easily enough.
Awaiting the traders reply before continuing looking the elf straight in the eyes, his own black orbs looking out from the depths of his helmet.*

 

[Malochai]

The Nasty Nauglir’s common room was as to be expected; dark apart from a number of dull witchlights which gave the place a grim look. Numerous scarred, pitted circular tables were occupied by equally scarred and pitted corsairs, who looked a good deal more lethal with their hands than those who crewed the Bloodwrack as it was, and they were an experienced lot who could clearly handle themselves. These were the true veterans, warrior knights whose whispered tales filled taverns and pleasure houses across Naggaroth. When Tenril leapt onto the table, drew his weapon and spoke, some of the sailors looked at him curiously, and the glint of hunger and greed flashed in some eyes. At a table of four, the closest of the tables, one of the corsairs, a truly grizzled veteran who was clearly more than six hundred years old, and with skin as tough as boiled leather, looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Which rich little bastard would we be risking our skins for? And why are you recruiting this late in Karond Kar - surely a highborn could afford a crew from Clar Karond, and if it’s his hakseer, his father will have provided one!” His lean face was curled into a derisive sneer, but he looked willing enough to have his mind changed.

---​

Viseryn looked down at Rythia, with his eyebrows raised, and then the amethyst orbs flitted over the form of the young, nubile asur tied to his bed before him. He smiled appreciatively, the corners of his mouth twitching in satisfaction. “Arkeith, you will leave,” the young dreadlord commanded, and then waited until the assassin had complied. “Rythia, you will stay. I have business to attend to, but the sight and sounds of you and my new toy should be enough to see me through it, and then I want to have some fun. I want to see your training methods in person,” he said roughly as he approached the high elf, whose eyes widened fractionally, and panic seemed to set in - she began struggling against her bonds, but with a swift flash of flesh and the sharp smack of flesh on flesh, she let out a startled cry and fell still, stunned. A flush of red began to spread over her cheek, and a single tear of anger welled up in her eye, which she furiously blinked away.

“That’s better, slave,” he murmured condescendingly, gently running his index finger across her high cheekbones, “You’ll be game soon enough, I’m sure.” The druchii captain then turned to Rythia, and raised his eyebrow again. “You look far more ... You, when you are wearing your armour. There’s something strangely intoxicating about a woman who can handle her weapons. Lose the robes. Now.”

With that, the elf turned on his heel and strode back into the main room of his quarters, where the package from Daereon remained on the side. He pulled a dagger from its sheath and quickly cut through the ribbon ties and then tore at the papers, before his eye alit on what was inside. “Finally,” he breathed, taking a seat at his table, listening to the beginnings of his new slaves training at the hands of the female druchii. He clicked his fingers and one of his other slaves knelt by his side. He rested a hand on her chin and she nuzzled into it. In a moment of anger, he curled his fingers into a grasping claw and drew his nails across the flawless skin of her cheek, drawing blood in five fine, parallel lines. “Get me some of the dreamwine, and ensure Rythia has a glass as well. Oh, and ensure my new plaything does. I do not doubt such a strong vintage will melt away some of her ... Inhibitions. I can see she is a feisty thing, only waiting for the right moment to let them melt away. But you, my dear, shall neither touch nor talk to her. You shall keep your eyes averted, or risk punishment,” he finished kindly, stroking her silken hair. Within moments, there was a fine wine flute filled near to the brim with a fine vintage of dreamwine, with a scent of mixed berries and the very essence of summer in Ellyrion. Not long after, she approached Rythia, head down, with two more glasses.

---​

The well dressed merchant nodded serenely to Tullaris and Sar’geth. “Of course, good sirs. I have a complete range of armour which will suit any needs - from the leathers worn by Shades to articulated plate worthy of any highborn and anything in between. There are also a variety of qualities - I have smith-slaves from the human realms of Cathay, the Empire and Bretonnia as well as asur from Ulthuan, and druchii forged steel as well. The choice is yours; as long as you have the coin, the very best items here are at your disposal!
“Now, for complete suits, you’ll want to look either to your right-” he said, gesturing to a row of ten mannequins which had various kinds of full armour suits on them, but they were all of heavy make, similar to the kind the Black Guard themselves wore, although being of slightly lesser quality, “or your very left.”

That is where the lighter armour resided; on fifteen mannequins there were a number of items which could be perfect for Sar’geth, but they were priced villainously. A sly smile slipped from the merchants face, but he still looked slightly smug. “Whatever you want, it is yours ... For the right price.”

 

[Shareya]

Rythia's eyes had narrowed when her Lords new orders reached her. After all she was ever so fond of her current clothing and to be forced to discard them already was annoying to say the least. Yet she knew well enough that defying Viseryn would have not ended well and what little progress the young noble might have made with him was going to be ruined if she slipped up.

"As you wish my Lord." The words where uttered with a low but polite tone while slender fingers started to undress their owner. The dark haired female naturally took her time with this as it allowed her to casually speak to the whimpering slave. "I did warn you my sweet. Forget who you where, remember your new place and you will be allowed to live a fairly...pleasant life."

A loving smile adorned Rythia's features when she finally was able to pry away her clothing and just like her new plaything she was left fully nude. However unlike the Asur the noble seemed quite comfortable even without something hiding away her form.

"Shall we begin?" To the slaves horror her tormentors smile was replaced by a wicked grin and she knew that it was going to be a long night filled with both pleasure and of course pain.

------ Will write more once malo has been poked! ----

 

[Get of W'soran]

"Yes my Lord." Arkeith said in extremely disapproving tones and with an obvious look of disgust at the other two elves he turned and strode out of the room.

The assassin clicked his tongue when out in the hallway and shook his head, the young Master was obviously not what the Khainite had been hoping for and a cold realising struck him as he thought back on what Viseryn's brother had said.

"My Master is worthless." he thought to himself miserably.

With another shake of his head he banished those thoughts and latched onto something practical, something he could do to take his mind of his situation.
After a few moments he strode off towards the Armory, he had promised the noble-girl that he would show her how to fight so he'd best find something suitable.

 

[Duke Danse Macabre]

"Disregarding the heavier suits of armour on the right he looked only at those on his left, Eyes quickly Scanning his wares he noted a number of suits among the whole sets that would meet his requirements, they seemed to be tinted as he had hoped but that was not so important as of the strength of the steel itself.

Out of all the wares only three suits were mixed half plate and scale mail but any of them would do.
Taking in each of their details he noted that they were Elf made, not the cruder work of men or the heavy tombs of iron that the dwarfs seemed to prefer, this meant they would be light and allow freedom of movement.

Smiling inside is helm out of sight of any who may be looking he gestured to the Merchant to come forwards.*

"Tell me of these three.
How were they forged, by who and when.
Also I will need to know the thickness and density of the armour itself and any treatments used on the metal.
We will be taking to sea and I am loath to see any of them rust else I would have to return to... voice my displeasure."

*His eyes flashing deep inside his helm as he turned his head to regard the merchant.
Before tracking his gaze to another merchants stall to the side of his own just as lavish with much more reasonable prices.*

"And don't even think about lying to me"

*Leaving the comment hanging as a simple statement or threat depending on where you stood, he already knew all he needed to know about ever scrap of the armour he had looked at but he was willing to bet the merchant did not and he was going to make a fool of him for that.*

 

[Count Vashra]

Karochi got up from his meditation and praying. Satisfied that he had planned his actions sufficiently, he began walking. Struggling to think what else to do, he decided to return to the general are of the Bloodwrack. The others had to have finished their tasks by now, and he didn't want to know what Rythia was doing. As he walked through the streets, he checked his blades. They were his most trusted possessions, and they had seen him survive many occasions. he might have been a little obsessive, but he thought they were looking a little blunted after the repeated 'fights' over the past week or so. He walked over to a nearby wall and tested them. No. They were fine. it had been his imagination. He continued walking, and spent what was left of his coins on some refreshments. When he was finished, he went near the Bloodwrack and waited nearby. Viseryn could see him and call him when he was ready. He did not board so that he would not seem too rushed, but waited a little back.

 

[Zephyr]

Tenril sheathed his weapon and sat down on top of the table, turning his face towards the grizzled old veteran.
"The young bastard would be Viseryn Tagarys and aye he's a bastard alright. He might be young but do not mistake him to be either stupid or weak. I've got some fresh new scars to prove just that."
Tenril stood up again and walked towards the edge of the table, far enough to make it tilt a little but not so far for it to tip over.
"The reason we're hiring is because some smartasses thought mutiny straight out of the port would be a nice idea."
Tenril waited for the chuckles and snorts to die down. No corsair was stupid enough to attempt mutiny with certain patrons let alone when they weren't on open sea yet.
"Manann has been sated I can tell you that.", Tenril continued with a grin. "So what say you? Will you join or not? Feel free to go and see the vessel in the harbor, her name is the Bloodwrack and she's a thing of beauty alright."

 

[The Dread King]

Sar'geth looked on as Tullaris bargained with the armour merchant. He seemed to know what he was doing, and obviously had some sort of experience of this sort of marketplace. Mind you, the merchant looks like no fool either. We'll see if we can flog a good price out of him, or else we'll have to look elsewhere.

In the back of his helm, Sar'geth's third eye (that seemed to be nothing more than a glowing orb to the naked eye) watched and looked around for stalls with more reasonable prices. He had seen a few places with good prices, but Sar'geth knew from past encounters that what one saw wasn't always what one got - these coast merchant scum, in particular, liked to up the prices upon the approaching of any customers, or the entering of a boat into a nearby port.

Sar'geth spotted three suits of armour and eyed them up with his front optical organs. Keenly picking out details, he noticed that some seemed to be of better make than others, yet this could always be due to the angle from which they were presented and fake details added by the merchant to make the armour look better-crafted. There had been cases of dark elves spending fortunes on dwarven-wrought runic armour, only to find that the "runes" had simply been scratched onto the metal and that the armour itself was made by human slaves with a knack for creating something that looked protective from the outside but was far too thin inside to be of a good strength. He decided he would leave the final decision on which of these suits to buy to his colleague, who had greater experience in terms of armour than him. Though to acquire that, he's clearly been wasting his time. The protection granted by the mundane is sorely lacking when compared to that of the arcane. Only a fool or someone who fervently obeys those pathetic laws decreed by Malekith would choose to study the former.

 

[Shareya]

The Asur slave did not know how many minutes if not hours had passed since Rythia started to toy with her. She even was unsure when the line between pleasure and pain was blurred to the point that her gasps of agony where twisted into ones of delight. All of her thoughts where slowly consumed by her new owners slender fingers, talented tongue and lewd words that so eagerly where whispered into her long ears. Carefully she was being taught how to address the Dreadlord and those closest to him, how to walk, how to talk and of course how to act when it came to the pleasures of flesh. The young noble did also not shy away from uttering promises of pain should she forget her place while also reminding her of the little rewards she will receive should she behave.

Eventually Rythia was forced to pull her painted lips away from her playthings ear. She knew well enough that this little ritual needed to be repeated so many times before all of her words properly sunk in. Yet the noble did not mind as it assured that the pleasure slaves body and even to a degree her mind would remain intact. After all what use is a broken toy to her or even Viseryn.

Once the Dreadlord had joined the pair he was at least treated to a pleasant sight. His new slaves hands where no longer bound and her fingers where eagerly racing over Rythia's naked flesh while the noble herself guided them with soft words. Yet he would still know that his new toy was not quite ready, not quite broken but simply seduced to a dark yet delightful little place where she could forget her current situation.

++ ooc: and that is that. Can't write more without making it go too kinky and I am super sleep depraved. Will edit and fix up later. ++

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith wasn't pleased with the cutlasses on display in the armory, although they weren't bad, the pieces were not up to the Khainite's standards.

Eventually he found a blade that would suit, it wasn't a true Cutlass but instead a Sabre that had been hacked down to size, and it was off high-quality. The handle was crap though, but Arkeith soon found a Cutlass with an excellent hilt and a more protective hand-guard than could be found on the more standard Cutlasses in the armory.

Swiftly the Druchii removed the hilts from both swords and found that they where almost compatible. Luckily the ship was outfitted with a wide range of equipment that would let him work on the weapon as he needed.

Arkeith would likely have to spend the night on it, still he had little else to do.

 

[Malochai]

The merchant came forward, smiling indulgently as Tullaris spoke. “Ah, yes, sir, those are exceptional pieces. You have a good eye, indeed. They are all of elven make; two druchii and one asur.
“The first of the items,” he began, becoming every part the consummate salesman, “is a fine piece from Valin Mithaleil, a leading armourer from Clar Karond, forged using well established, methods, even if they aren’t the best. Very few armourers from that city are a match to Valin, regardless of methods. He could make a sheet of pig iron into better armour than any human, and better than most elves outside of Naggarond. It’s been treated basically; it would survive a journey on a ship but would need care - it is much more suited to an elf who spends their time on solid ground. The suit itself is only two months old; it was barely cold by the time it arrived in dock.
“Now, this second piece is by Ravandil Gloran, known as the Black Hammer, of Naggarond. She truly is exceptional as an armourer, a rare gem. She spent a decade labouring over this piece, alongside others. I received it years ago, but have been keeping it in reserve. A Ravandil piece isn’t exactly cheap, as you may imagine, but for what you pay ... It’s worth it. The best methods make this piece very durable, and it has also been treated with ointments and salves which make it extremely resistant to water and salt; out of the three, this is the best piece for an extended voyage. Most corsairs can’t afford such a piece; by the time they can, they just bypass Karond Kar and go straight to Clar Karond.
“The last, as I said, is an asur piece. Not much to say about it, really. Made by a slave, but with incentives for it to be as good a piece is possible to make. Whilst it is a reasonable piece, it is not, I fear, a touch on either of the other two - something for common sailors, I would say, not for nobles or their retainers.”

The merchant had puffed himself up, and it was obvious that he knew each and every piece by maker. “I take pride in my work, sir, and though I may not be highborn, I am not stupid enough to try and fleece my customers when they so obviously know their wares. Don’t insult my intelligence!” The look in his eyes was angered and confrontational, and his hand rested gently on the hilt of his own sword.

---

Kourla was stood on deck; looking over the railings he saw Karochi just off the ship, waiting aimlessly on the dock. He smiled cruelly. “Come aboard, fool, or you’ll earn yourself a knife in the back - do you have any idea what an easy target you make?” he bellowed, before striding to the walkway which allowed entrance onto the deck, to meet the elf. “Your master’s below deck, and given that the bitch-whore is waiting for him, and the assassin had a package for him ... Somehow, I feel he’ll be occupied for a while yet. Care for a drink?”

---

“Tagarys? I’ve heard rumours about the youngest; this Viseryn. They say he’s mad; an animal in druchii form, consumed with a lust for blood, flesh and pain. But then, which highborn isn’t? At least he has the strength of will to enforce his command on the ship and if he has a healthy dose of fear for the god of tempests ... “ This went on for a while, the corsair discussing with himself the pros and cons of joining Viseryn’s crew. In the end, he approached the bar, still muttering to himself, payed for four drinks and then returned to the table. He pushed two of the glasses towards Tenril.

“I’m listening, Gutripper, tell me more ...”

 

[Duke Danse Macabre]

*Tullaris looked over the merchant with a faint smile tugging upon his lips deep inside his helm.*

"You know your craft... That is good.
Most would of tried to lie to me as seems to be common amongst merchants."

*Observing The merchants movements he could tell he had pricked a nerve which was both good and bad for now he knew that should his demands prove too outrageous he could trick the man into attacking him and deal with him in the manner he saw fit.*

"Then it seems that I must hold you above what i normally expect in my dealings.
Liars are everywhere and if you expect me to pay the sums of gold that you demand then you will have to justify it to me, knowing your wares so well cetainly speaks volumes as to that as most don't know their Human and Dwavern armours apart given just to the thickness of the plate and the useless decoration hanging from every scrap.
Now I can tell I have pricked your pride so you have my appologies, now remove your hand from your blade, I came here to buy, not for a fight."

*Casting his eyes over the armour again.*

"Let us start with the druchii peices, whats their weight and metals used in their construction?
The first does worry me somewhat though if we were to take to the sea which we shall, also the fact that it is not a great deal beyond an average suit does concern me.
The Best of a bad bunch does not inspire confidence so tell me, what is the real quality of this mans work, who has he worked for before, what does he specialize in?"

*Holding the Merchants gaze*

"The other...
10 years in the making you say..."

*Looking the suit up and down*

"It has great workmanship that would be plain even to a human slave, the decoraction is cast with though given as to strengthen the armour to lend purpose and not just to attract attention to a strutting noble...
That is a true warriors piece."

*His words echoing his approval*

 

[Count Vashra]

Karochi heard Kourla's invitation and walked up the ramp. "I accept your invitation, Ship's Master." He walked aboard, and followed Kourla to a seat. He poured himself a drink, and had a sip.
"So," he began, trying to establish a casual conversation. "How long have you been Master of the Bloodwrack?"

 

[Malochai]

“If you didn’t know your armour, I would fleece you like a babe. But you clearly know what you’re talking about, and I have no desire to fight you - after all, I am just a merchant,” the tall, lithe elf replied tautly, his hand still resting on the pommel, although he looked to have relaxed very slightly.

“And you speak true; it’s a poor state of affairs when even merchants of armour cannot tell the difference between armour made by the druchii and the dawi; it’s truly disgusting. Now, as for decoration, it’s obsolete and I have no use for it, and I am sure many of the true warriors will say the same ... For some reason, the highborn feel it necessary to ornament their armour to the point of ostentatiousness.
“Now, the first piece - Valin Mithaleil’s - is made out of high quality iron, very strong, very resilient, with elf-hide straps, but the second ... Now that is a work of art; despite being unbelievably thin - and light, at only fifteen pounds - it’s made out of iron cased on both sides of by the highest quality steel.
“As for the true quality of Valin Mithaleil’s work, it is good - any soldier should consider purchasing a set of his armour, if they can afford it. But like I said, it isn’t treated properly to stand up to a long sea voyage. With regards to his previous works ... I know of a few - I can recall but a fraction of the list. Harrond of House Daerleon, Imhol and Ingwe of House Valleron ... All rich, all good soldiers. All happy with their purchases.
“Now ... Ravandil ... She is an artist, my friend. Half the highborns of Naggarond want her pieces now; in the last twenty years she has shot to fame; this is one of her earlier pieces, granted, but no less worth the price than any of her newer items. Notable names are Rana of House Birlithe, Cavendil of House Erestir, Nianna and Tirial of House Feltanthar, Silvuine Quickblade, Camling of House Norovir ... Even the Harpy herself has been known to appropriate Ravandil’s pieces for her collection.” By this point, the merchant was clearly getting into his stride, and the names dropped were well-known and powerful, a clear indication of the quality of the armour. “The plate aspects of this armour are very light but strong, and the leather is dwarf-hide, cured repeatedly to make it supple but strong - it would take a dozen blows with a sharp sword to cut it. The mail is made of the same as the plate, iron covered with steel, and doesn’t hamper or restrict movement.”

---​

Kourla hid a smile as Karochi accepted his invitation, shaking his head imperceptibly. He poured himself a drink; a fine wine from his personal collection from decades of reaving. “The Bloodwrack has been my life, pride and joy for three decades. Obviously, when I’m not babysitting the pampered nobility on their Hakseer, she is under my own direct control, and even now the crew are mine, regardless of what Rhaego Tagarys and his son think. He may pay them, but I allow them the pillaging, reaving and raping they truly desire. The money’s just a bonus.” A cruel smile split the face of the ship’s master’s face. “Unfortunately, if Viseryn continues ignoring my advice as he has been, there may be nothing to reave and rape ... Going straight for Norsca, I ask you!
“Anyway, how did you get dragged into his madness?”

 

[Duke Danse Macabre]

*Nodding along with the mechants words as he took the information in picking out the important aspects amongst the flood of information he had invited.*

"15 Pounds you say..."
*Looking over the armours blackened surface*

"With Either suit I will require a suiable cloak to go with which i am sure you are more than capable of providing suitable accessories to each of the suits.
In addition to this if I was to procure the former I would indeed need the treating agents and oils so as to maintain it at sea."

*Looking over both suits once more*

"They may both be high quality as well and truely exceptional peices they are still iron and do not bear the inflated costs of silver and other soft metals used to adorn the more usless peices of nobles.
In addition to this with some of the more considerable names you have mentioned I have no trouble in beleiving where the makers skill is clear that these are not their finest peices which in honesty I do not expect, I do however their cost to reflect that.

Now please tell me, what is the cost to aquire either of these two suits?"

(May need Indication of price against wealth Given by Noble)

 

[Malochai]

“Hmm,” the merchant hummed for a second, before clicking his fingers. A slave appeared by his side almost instantly; human and relatively thin, completely bald and shivering in thin clothes as the chill wind attacked him. “Bring me the chest of nauglir cloaks, now. Take Ericht with you. Come on, hurry up!” he snapped. He then turned back to the two elves in front of him and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, fifteen pounds. You’ll not find better quality for lighter, I assure you.
“As for the treatments ... I could have some delivered to you by this evening, but I would only be able to acquire a limited supply; for a long time at sea you would have to find some other way to supplement your supply.”

When Tullaris looked back over both suits of armour, the merchant surreptitiously looked over the traitor-asur and sized up how much he could afford; a skill he had acquired during long years at the task. He saw the bulging pouch and his eyes practically bugged out of his skull, but he managed to keep himself calm, although he now appeared to be somewhat lighter and happier, his hand finally slipping from the hilt of his sword. When the customer spoke again, he barked in laughter. “Of course these aren’t their finest pieces; I couldn’t afford to buy them in, and you wouldn’t be able to buy them! I may supply the occasional highborn or wealthy patron, but most of my trade comes from corsairs and common soldiers! How would I ever sell a Ravandiel piece to corsairs?”

A smile crossed his face. “The first druchii piece ... It’s nice, but obviously no-where near as nice as the Ravandil piece ... It’d cost you one hundred gold, exactly, and I’ll throw in a couple months supply of the treatments. Now, the Ravandil piece ... One of her best would cost you over a thousand gold, easily. This one, I’ll call it two hundred fifty, and say another ten to have it delivered. I’ll throw in a nauglir-hide cloak with either piece; I have a wide selection ...”

The slaves arrived back just then, and the merchant opened the chest they carried, revealing a large range of cloaks. They ranged from a bright, poisonous green to the colour of olives, and had scales of varying size. Some still had the spines attached, some didn’t, some had hoods made from the creatures head, others had normal hoods and still others had none. “Take your pick. I’ll deliver it at the same time as your armour, if you choose to have it delivered. You are more than welcome to take it with you once you have paid, if you wish.”

---​

The pouch which Viseryn gave Tullaris contains two hundred gold pieces. Whilst the merchant may look confident that he had the sale for the second piece, he also gave off the impression he could be beaten down on the price. The cloak can basically look how you want, within that colour range and reason.

 

[Duke Danse Macabre]

*Looking over the armour as the merchant named his price*

"With the cloak the first price seems almost reasonable considering the work.
However the second peice give its workmanship still does not warrent more than double the first.

Now you are no fool and you know I mean to buy, However I have the time to shop about as well.
You say you have had this armour for some time so let us discuss a meeting price closer to its value.

My offer is 170 Gold for the second peice, I could arm and outfit a entire corsair ship for less with crew to boot and as you said, the men you sell to can ill afford such work."

*Removing his helmet, his waist length white hair spilling down over his shoulders as he met the merchants gaze, his eyes seeming to look right through drinking in every detail at once*

"I can, I will not bleed for it though."

 

[Count Vashra]

Karochi put his glass down. "I was forced to flee my house on Blood Night, and I suspect my parents have written me off, and I'm not counting on them remembering our family tie. So I've just been wandering around scratching a living with what little I could take with me. One day I saw Lord Viseryn down at the docks. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was preparing for his Hakseer. He asked me if I would like to come with him. I accepted, and, long story short, that's how I'm here. At the time, I was desperate to get anything I could-riches, employment, the support of a Lord, but, having observed, and been on the receiving end of, Lord Viseryn's behaviour-although, really, I have been a little foolish-I'm starting to regret it."

 

[Zephyr]

Tenril jumped off the table and pulled up a chair next to the veteran Corsair. He accepted a glass and took a few gulps from it before continuing.
"Viseryn IS an animal", he quickly wiped some liquid from his chin with his sleeve, "but like you said, no more than what you'd expect of any Highborn." He shot back the contents of the glass in one go.
"Right, I guess you'd like to know what we will be the main plundering ground? Well hang on to your main sail for it is nothing less than Norsca."

Tenril started gulping down the other glass and nodded towards Marith, a sign to get some more booze in. He hated to be in debt and besides, he would not take advantage of a veteran. That and the alcohol would take away any of the niggling doubts the corsairs had. Well, it worked for him at least.

"Estalia and Bretonnia will follow and Albion might be on the list as well.
Now, I know what you think and I'm thinking it too; high risk. Those frost monkeys can fight like a cornered hydra but you should see some of my fellow retainers. I swear some of them are temple trained assassins. I think we have a good crew going where it concerns fighting but they sure as hell need some more scurvy sea-dogs like us.
Norsca is just a distraction really, take no risks there. Gods damn the idiot who came up with THAT..."
Tenril looked sourly at the Druchii as Marith slammed down six more glasses. He motioned for the others around him to take their pick.
"Anyway I think the other locations are well worth the risk of Norsca. Be smart about it and let the young upstarts that think they are corsairs take all the risks there." Tenril looked around the table with a conspiratorial smile.
"Anything specific anyone wants to ask?"

 

[Malochai]

"Hah!" Kourla said, laughing gently, "If Dreadlord Rhaego hadn't refitted and repaired the Bloodwrack, offered me a decades patronage and then payed me few thousand gold pieces of top of that, I would have refused to let him anywhere near this vessel. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to refuse; I am without a fleet, and my crew wouldn't stand for the little I could give them for another season ...
"Now, between you and me, the crew are already unhappy with the fool, and we aren't even beyond the Tower of Despair! I'm not sure how long they'll put up with his idiocy - the stunt he pulled at the Temple of Mathlann didn't endear them to him ..."

---​

The corsair raised his left eyebrow, "There are some rich pickings to be gained from raiding the Norscan coast, it is true ... But this is a young, unseasoned pup in command; are you sure he won't lead us astray in an attempt to make some vain-glorious statement?
"But Albion ... I have long wanted to test myself against the creatures rumoured to dwell there, and Nagronath is supposed to be worth a visit, if only for the slaves! The flame-touched ones are supposed to be especially fiery!" he said with a lascivious grin and a nudge with his elbow.

"Questions? None from me; work's work and plunder's plunder! I can get you a few experienced corsairs - I mean, Elror and Dalos here will be up for it, right boys?"

"Aye,' they said simultaneously, shrugging. Elror went to the bar and ordered another round, whilst Dalos continued - "Anything's better than a season sat in port growing drunk and stupid. S'long as there's the chance for riches, we're in. I'm sure we've fought for more foolish lords in out time, and he can't be too bad. Rhaego's eldest sons all came back from their hakseer's with immense riches, if the stories are true. Almost legends, they are!"

 

[Count Vashra]

Karochi realised he had found a potential ally in Master Kourla-or at least, someone who wouldn't report any suspicions to Lord Viseryn.

"Interesting. Sounds like neither of us have many reasons to tolerate him. Still, we should be getting some nice cash soon, and one of the other retainers is getting more Corsairs, so you'll have some more elves under you soon.
Of course, I agree that what he did to Tenril ad the others at Mathlann's Temple was foolish. I don't believe you were about to rebel against him, and if you did, then you would have to tread very carefully, because the wrath of Dreadlord Rhaego would prevent you from returning to Clar Karond, which I believe is your base, and I imagine that no matter how seasoned a Corsair you would eventually long for land, if only to replenish supplies so that you're not living on a what-can-we-raid-to-survive-today basis. I know I would. Then again, I'm not a Corsair. Anyway, A battle was unnecessary. We could have just slit your throats at night."

 

[Malochai]

The merchant looked outraged at the price Tullaris suggested, and spat on the pavement in disgust. "Nothing less than one hundred and ninety is enough to make me part with that armour, sir. And I may not know much of the corsair trade, but you'd have a hard time doing that for the price of this armour. It'd be a skeleton crew, and crap at what they do to boot!" With a haughty look at the white-haired elf, the merchant elf stared down the customer.

"I would have thought you would know better than to try and rip off someone who knows their armour. Even with her earlier pieces, Ravandil's work is a step above everyone elses' - it is both practical and a work of art. So, my price is one ninety and no less!"

---​

"I only have need to tolerate him until we get far enough out to sea that I can act without fearing repercussions. My only worry is his retainers. I know not the true extent of their skills, and how loyal the rest of them are to the animal. Viseryn and a couple of retainers I can deal with; the number that he has currently? If all but you stay loyal, I risk a lot. That Arkeith ... He's Temple-trained, I am sure. Meaning he could take out maybe a fifth of my crew by himself if I give him the chance.
"And these new corsairs who are being hired won't be mine. They'll owe their loyalty directly to Viseryn, and Gutripper won't choose mutinous dogs! The six I informed him about were fools; they weren't prepared to wait until my signal. I had to give them up to him lest I be caught up in their stupidity - and now he believes me loyal to him! The idiot. He's clearly got no head for subterfuge."