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[P]  The Booze Cruise

Offline Borius May 23 2020, 3:47 AM
#1
  • Corzya
  • Age: 48
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Howler
  • Total Posts: 7
  • Played by: Rosie
145 Mana · View All Items?
A gruff man; hairy, beard peppered in some spots, and the back of his neck and top of his forehead glazed in sweat sat as easily as one might in a stirring ship. Swaying and creaking as the hammocks and other things tied by chain or rope on the ceiling danced with it. He knew to stay out of their path at least as he gulped down some more of the good harder hitting stuff that the good ole Orion’s Vigil had in its cask that he eeked out directly into his mouth. First in a squat and then as he found himself crashing into the side of something else he lay down posterior and found it all the more easier to get some of the harsh apparent poison of choice into himself perpendicular, before he licked glazed lips that turned dry and salty.

Situating his clothing to situate himself properly in place, in a way that seemed more comfortably, it only struck the man again now it seemed that his flask had been full still. All this time. Sighing with a chuckle and a wheeze, he hears a ‘hello?’ desperate, afraid. One of the dogs he supposes (although if its cargo or a servant, it remains unknown), before he moves himself up, this time with a small groan. Body swaying with the weight of the ship but the dagger he takes out and twirls in his fingers he also catches somehow rather gracefully. As he also does through the lower deck and its obstacles without another hint of tripping or falling down. Dry and cold on his feet though, and a little wet. As he looks down, as he goes, he sneers just a little under his breathe, mumbling something to himself. “Damn shoes.” Where the fuck did they go again?

It’s no matter. And if the harsh floor pricks him he doesn’t feel it as the older gentleman nears a small cage with an uncomfortable looking occupant. They don’t notice him at first but the moment they do the movement and the shock is audibly as they reel back. ‘What do you want?’ the voice bites, animalistic but probably higher and less threatening than they mean for. The man says nothing, but he does grin. As he draws forward, reaching his hand out to the cheek of the boy in one sudden almost violent action before he moves the boy’s head back and forth and open- the last bit causes the other to bit down hard, harsh into his hand but Bore does nothing to show sign of the pain, instead he laughs softly. (Unless the laughter is one)

“Aww, Cass has got soft,” he almost purrs. Drawing closer still before he pounds his fist with the other into his temple, and with a cry they go reeling.

“Seeing y’ve still got yer tongue.”
Offline Cassian May 23 2020, 10:26 PM
#2
  • Corzya
  • Age: 38
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Slaver
  • Total Posts: 5
  • Played by: Isilzheha
170 Mana · View All Items?
Nicodemus had picked up the scent of the stowaway first, a lingering waft of cheap alcohol and the sweaty musk of a man whose skin flushed red with the swill they constantly consumed. It hung upon the interior of Cassian's cabin even long after the human should have departed with the menial task she had given the howler, the eximius leaving it be for now since she had been in the middle of getting the Vigil out to sea. The waves were choppy, the winds against their favor, but the warship cut through them all the same. It became a sense of stability, the uncertainty of the weather that continued to shift the further the crew carried the vessel. Cassian continued as she had been, composing the more important letters that would be delivered by far more competent Cöryzan employees when they set anchor again. The winged wolf had been sent to the skies as she could to keep watch of the undulating horizon, and Baal had yet to be summoned to deal with the undesired company.

Cassian bided her time, sleeves of her button-up shirt rolled to the elbows to keep the ink from smudging, and in the glow of the candlelight her Siel caught against it. Whether her ire became a focus or not couldn't be discerned from the few greenhorns who passed through her doors, updates given that the howler was still below deck in the hull where her product was still being filled. They'd some time yet before they would reach their destination along the eastern coasts of the mainland, Cassian as eager for it as she always was. There was no rushing at this point, only waiting, and the slaver had plenty of patience to spare. For now. Even that wavered when Jamie let himself in, looking uncomfortable and simultaneously chagrined as he informed her their guest had helped himself to some of their barrels of liquor. A boozehound to the last, that one. Cassian smiled.

"Finish for me, Bell," she said fondly, a crinkle at the corner of her electric blue eyes. The smile didn't reach them, nor did the humor her first mate displayed on his sallow features. Within the wooden slats and reinforced steel Cassian had eyes everywhere, the howler having them on him the moment he decided to snake his way downstairs as if he were part of the Vigil. With all the grace of a predatory cat Cassian pushed the chair back to stand, hands slipping into the pockets of her trousers where the shirt was properly tucked, and she left Jamie to it. All the way through the open door his snickering laughter followed her, Cassian not minding the foamy spray as the warship mounted the crests to dip down into the rhythm of the ocean.

She appeared almost listless with the way her chin dipped down, each stretch of space between one point and the next as familiar as each and every face of her crew. They blurred by, pulling the sails and Hector stood at the helm with the massive wheel bending to his every whim. Cassian ignored them all, even Baal as she felt his eyes burning holes into her, and descended the steps through the open hatch. She smelled the hounds, the most prized of her beasts within their kennels across from the cages that were only partially full, and she heard some of the bars clattering viciously. Most of them were quiet, as were the canines when she stepped over the foothold. Eerily so, some might claim, with not a single bark or whine for attention to be heard. On either side of her eyes of a different kind, separate from the crew members who could go invisible, watched her with pointed attentiveness.

'Aww, Cass has got soft.'

Cassian smelled blood. It mingled with the sweetness of the recently tapped liquor, the cask an expensive one meant for Yvette only. Oh how she adored her vintage brandy. Immediately it was taken as a slight, moreso than the words Borius spoke, an insult that drove deeper than the howler's presence alone. Cassian approached the swaying man as his wounded hand connected with the younger dire's head to send the boy reeling back with a yelp. That perked the ears of her hounds, several of them standing to stick their muzzles between the bars, their growls low and menacing. Cassian didn't check them, not yet, and lifted an eyebrow in uninterested focus to Borius' slurring voice. 'Seeing y’ve still got yer tongue.'

The eximius moved quickly, the heel of her boot lifted up to strike the back of Borius' knee. His body pitched forward, whatever balance he had before stripped away when the slackened limb struck the wood. Cassian gripped his greasy hair at the back of his head harshly, driving his face into the bars before he could think to turn and face her. His forehead struck first, the reverberation audible and the slaver took the opportunity to spin him around by the shoulder. The hounds livened at that, all drooling lips and clicking teeth as they barked and bayed with the spike of tension. Cassian knelt slowly, a sharp whistle through her teeth demanding their immediate silence. It was granted, the eximius jamming her hand beneath Borius' jaw as he now sat against the bars, fingers pinching into his beard to curl over his cheeks. Her lips tugged upwards as she studied his face, this man fallen from grace further into the depths of inebriation. "Is that so, Borius? Do you really think that?" she asked evenly, curiously, though anyone who knew her would know answering poorly could spell disaster. Cassian tilted her head. "Have you considered that I might like to hear them beg?"
Offline Borius Jun 19 2020, 12:43 AM
#3
  • Corzya
  • Age: 48
  • Gender: Male
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Howler
  • Total Posts: 7
  • Played by: Rosie
145 Mana · View All Items?
Bad to hit the merchandise. Bad to make anyone cry.

There was a lot of lessons his own papa had said or told him about the slave trade. Explaining why they did what they did, their purpose in oiling Svalbard’s machinesque efficiency- that there always needed to be a winner, and a loser- and a man in-between. Whatever grace he might have exercised was smooshed brusquely by the liquor, and a more primal need in the moment to feel the superior- the man above. Or in summary: he didn’t care. High off the feeling of not being the one in the cage, or like he had to prove it even though he was already there, on the other side. It’s why he doesn’t lose his smile when the dire bites, and when he punches him in the temple it’s the one in the cage not him that hits against the hard metal bars.

What he says afterwards he says with venom, annoyance at someone striking him out of his good moods…good drinking moods, nevertheless someone in a cage. Maybe it is the satisfaction of that, or the fact that he had drunken so much, the reasoning in how he hadn’t noticed Cassian and her party as they descended below the deck and gotten within inches of him. Or the fact that she had come from behind, when his knee fell to the hard wooden floor with the other to follow just not so close to meet the ground in the sudden forced stance- and his face was mashed up against the bars. Iron unpleasantly cold against his hot sweaty skin, it was almost enough to pull him completely out of his stupor. Almost. Perhaps it might have done some more good if his forehead hadn’t smacked into the metal first. Even if he had been sober (although more of a champion in the fight when he’s had a few, he insists) he guesses he would not have been able to move faster, in comparison of the eximius’ lightning fast reactions. It reminds him quickly that he is on a ship, someone’s ship. Someone named Cass. He grimaces, not that that reaction isn’t already immediate the moment he hits against the bars, before he is whipped around. Instinctually a hand reaches up to hold and nurse the bruise that has probably ripened across his head, while as an almost delayed reaction he staggers back at the sound of the hounds before her hands come up to hold him under his head. He chuckles nervously for a bit and moves a little as if to get up despite it before the man seems to adjust and stops. The harsh brusqueness reminds him a little of his second wife’s roughness, as does the way the slaver’s fair hair tips a little over her face and brings out the cold eyes that it almost tickles him hard for a second -just a second. He knows he should fear her, and it’s seen in the way he regards her. Still there was heat at his face, cold at the back of his neck- or you know, coulda also been the natural result of the temperature of the different elements.

“Ah Cass,” he says politely, in greeting -almost nonchalantly but in the way the lines around his mouth and the skin around his eyes- the former apart and the latter together, it’s clear he is trying to placate her. “Haven’t you ever had an oxen’s tongue before? Tastes something else- like beef cake but they put all these peppers and spices in it. It’ll make your mouth water,” he rambles brightly, quickly. Delaying or evading the otherwise tight directness of her accusations. With a bit of a smiles still, but tight and small. The kind a man wears to try and convince a wild creature that they are a friend, one that has already bitten or shown its teeth. He’s not lying in the suggestion however, and if the slaver asked, he probably could go on for hours on the hearty meat things he’s developed a taste for along the mainland’s coast. But that’s not what she wants to hear about now. His smile disappears, or what shadow of it. “Thought I could help you keep the new ones spooked.”
Offline Cassian Jun 27 2020, 8:39 AM
#4
  • Corzya
  • Age: 38
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank: Slaver
  • Total Posts: 5
  • Played by: Isilzheha
170 Mana · View All Items?
What a disgusting and filthy wretch, she thinks to herself. It runs deeper than the grime on his sweat-slicked and flushed skin. Down to his core she could see the depravity swimming in his now fearful watery blue eyes. There was a glossy haze to his puffy eyes, and Cassian for a brief second clenches her jaw with the sudden urge to rip them out of their sockets. Her fingers continue to dig into the space beneath his chin, resistance carefully put into place for now to not give in to the impulse that sprang to life the moment some semblance of clarity found Borius’ focus. ‘Ah Cass,’ he begins, and Cassian gave a wicked sort of smile. “We are not familiar enough for nicknames, Borius. Nor will we ever be,” she returns sharply, voice low as if sharing secrets between them.

The hounds were panting now, a few of them whining and the sound of claws clicking over metal was audible. Now it was the product who remained quieter, even the dire boy who sniveled in the corner like the cowardly beast he is. He watched them through the tangles of his red hair, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. Cassian recognized the mutt to be one of the newer ones the Vigil had picked up from a recent excursion to Kho’gate. Deceptively agile and strong for how skeletal and weak he looked, but he was caught nonetheless along with the others of his meager pack. The slaver could only watch in fascination the way Borius rambled, and how the skin pulled and wrinkled in his uncomfortable attempts at trying to soothe her. Cassian was anything but soothed.

In the face of her silence and pointed glare the howler ceased his attempts at idle conversation. Even his smile fell, and it was the most sober he looked thus far. ‘Thought I could help you keep the new ones spooked.’ Cassian’s hand started to drop, palm finding the front of his throat almost like a tender caress. She felt him swallow what saliva his vile body conjured, and her fingertips started to pinch his windpipe. Naturally he began to squirm, eyes widening and free hands trying to peel hers away, but Cassian only shoved him back into the bars when he attempted to push forward. “There is nothing scary about you, Borius,” she said then, as casually as he had rambled like they were chatting.

Except your inability to tell when and where you are unwelcome. Though… that is only a terrifying thing for you. Especially since you chose my ship to mooch off of. Terrible mistake,” she pressed on, easing up only enough to let him gasp for breath as she regarded him for a moment. “You are more than familiar with those, aren’t you?” Cassian didn’t give much of a chance for Borius to respond before she started to stand, using the human’s throat as a grip to haul him up forcefully. Then she released him, pulling out her set of keys to flip through them as if she were perusing some files or the pages of a book. Once she found the one she unlocked the cage of the unfortunate dire Borius had stricken, ignoring the way he shrank back with a burst of pleas. Bypassing his outstretched arms the slaver grabbed him by the arm, ripping him from the confines of the too small cage to present him to the howler.

Cassian gripped the dire by his narrow shoulders, gently brushing away his hair from his face even as he tried to flinch away. She looked to Borius then, fixing him with a cold stare. “Is your decision making just as impaired as the rest of you? I will let you choose who gets to lose their tongue. You or the dog.