• Closed • Making Home In The Void

Freya gets sold out by her crew.

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Freya DuCarinos
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Making Home In The Void

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Common Rakahi Pailtic Hussian
71st Trial of Zi’da, Arc 716

Gorroc was back and somehow, despite the misfortune he’d already cause while aboard the Arbiter, the lotharro still managed to make it back to Rharne and rat out the crew to the authorities there, mainly the captain of such ship: Freya DuCarinos.

During her little run in at the Crest Break, the pirate captain found she was wanted by bounty, to be trial and Rharne for charges of drug smuggling, kidnapping, enslavement of a free man, and murder. There were at least a dozen murders pinned on her head, none of which were true and probably all of them concocted at the hands of the man trying to sabotage her.

“Trial to be conducted by the Courts of Rharne,” Freya read the paper, having purchased a room in the Golden Flask to hide out in while Gorroc searched the city for her. “How did he get away?” She asked to no one in particular, bewildered by the situation that suddenly arose. “How did he survive?”

“He’s a cunt,” Caed muttered, pulling lightly at the beard hair that grew from his chin, “Those folks always survive.”

Freya tossed the bounty paper on the table and pushed a hand through her hair. She expected this to happen eventually, but not as soon as it did. “We’ve got the shipment loaded and waiting outside the walls. I’m sure by now, he will have rounded up so nel hungry savages to patrol the gates… If we play the time tables right, we can slip out of the city by nightfall.”

“Nightfall will be too late, Freya. Gorroc is a pirate before anything. He knows what a pirate will try to do to escape.”

“Then a boat. We’ll use a boat from the harbor to get past the wall. The cover of night will be enough to get us through the waters unseen, but we have to leave the city tonight.” Freya tapped the paper on the table. “Otherwise, we fall behind schedule and lose the money from the contract.”

Caed sat in a chair on the far side of the room, his thoughts keeping him silent for a few bits until he looked up to Freya once more, “Do you have the gold for a row boat?”

“Yes.”
Caed stepped from the Flask with Wendell in toe, the man having not said a word for a long while. As Freya said, this was to be expected. This was the job they signed up for, but somehow that didn't erase the pissed off look Caed carried.

Eventually, the two made it to the harbor whereupon their search began for a ship maker and boat seller. It didn't take them long to locate the merchant, however, outside of the shop stood a burly, tall bald man with familiar, wicked eyes. Standing next to him was a woman with attractive features, a curvy form, and knowing, fierce eyes. Wendell would recognize the woman as his coworker and friend, Sugar.

She was standing next to Gorroc, looking nervous but also, exhausted. When she spotted Wendell, however, her eyes remained on his unblinkingly and she tried to shake her head, as if to tell him something. Her lips looked like it had been busted open too.

“Long time Caed. Develop a backbone yet?” Gorroc’s gruff voice asked over the hum of the harbor crowd as he approached with Sugar in toe.
Last edited by Freya DuCarinos on Sat May 13, 2017 7:52 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 581
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Wendell had a quiet respect for Caed, who had been teaching him the etiquette of pirate life, how to sail and maintain a seaworthy boat, and what it meant to be slight of hand and light of foot. He had come to trust the man, and could sense the unease between him and their captain, Freya. That Caed didn't like the plan, put Wendell on edge, and he stalked along the dock, strides long and eyes watchful.

He hadn't expected to see the sight that greeted them beyond the bend, shoulders tightening as he stood, frozen in place for but a moment before turning back, and concealing himself behind the boat shed, sure Gorroc hadn't seen him. Prewarning had come by the startled glance Sugar had shot his way, before the beast who held her had managed to look up.

It was a black wolf that padded out into the dock to stand alongside Caed, hackles raised and teeth bared, ready to attack, if it came to that. Knowing eyes watched the harlot, and a long, pink tongue raced across the animal’s chops as he sized up the thick arms and pulsing neck of the man who should have died at sea when he was pushed overboard.
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Freya DuCarinos
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The look on Caed’s face spelled detest without a single word need uttered from his mouth. Gorroc smirked, his brow raised in challenge as the two stood straighter, ready to square off. The ebony man didn’t even notice when the wolf came to stand beside him. His gaze burned holes into the Lotharro before him.

“Where’s that sarding whore at?” His gruff voice rumbled, looking around, “Did you see him? I’m sure he’ll be excited to see a familiar fuck.”

Sugar clenched her teeth, trying to stall her tongue from hissing words of insult to the man. She’d done so once and the split lip was only one of the prices she paid for her error. “No,” The woman pressed next to him, “I haven’t seen him.”

“I see you’re an even bigger rat than I thought you were, Gorroc.” Caed finally spoke, “I wonder what the underground will think once they hear of this.”

“Hear what? Of the bounty on your head? Or that bitch’s head? They’ll be singing my praise when I bring in the money for you all. They won’t care, as long as their pockets are lined with gold and they’ve got enough bitches to toss around, nothing else will matter.” Gorroc turned toward the beauty next to him and pushed the hair back from her face, exposing a purple bruise on her jawline. “Ain’t that right, Sugar?”

A sharp growl resonated from the wolf as the large pirate finally took note of its presence within their circle. His own growl sprouted off and he stepped forward to attempt to scare the thing away, but it wouldn’t budge. “Sard off, mutt.” Gorroc growled, turning on Caed, “Tell me where that bitch, her fuckin’ slave, and that boat are and I’ll forget I saw you here.”

Caed’s fists clenched, “You take me for a fool? I see the pests you’ve hired. Their not good at hiding.”

Grabbing him by the scruff of his tunic, Gorroc hoisted Caed up till the man could only balance on his tip toes. “Tell me where they are!”

“Find them your own fuckin’ self.” The man hissed before plunging his fingers into the lothar’s eyes. He let out a howl of pain, dropping Caed so he could clutch at his face. “SARD!”

Ripping the knife from its sheath at his waist, Gorroc reached out and pulled Caed back to him, lifting the blade to plunge it into flesh. Sugar gasped and, in the heat of the moment, stumbled back onto the ground while the rest of the crowd aren’t them became confused and chaotic, panic slowly starting to run rampant as a fight broke out.
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Making Home In The Void

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Any rough-housing, especially directed at Sugar, who had seen better days, was met with another ferocious growl from the wolf. It was the kind of sound that turned heads and saw others flee, the more curious of the crowd taking a step back at the very least.

As Caed was taken by the scuff, the wolf lunges forwards to take advantage of the giant, biting into his leg as Caed plunged his fingers into Gorroc’s eyes, causing him to stumble backwards and lose sight of Sugar, who was smart to think fast and break away. She put a few quick strides between herself and her captor, hiding amongst those who looked on but didn't dare step forth to engage in or stop the fight.

Gorroc had claimed a dagger from his belt and drew his arm back to build up momentum, ready to stick Caed with the sharp end.

The wolf stumbled on a gap between the wooden boards of the dock, and having regained his footing, jumped at Caed, as if to use him as a springboard, pushing the pirate out of the way, and hurtling himself towards the Lotharro’s neck. Sharp fangs sunk in, but before his jaws could close shut against the giant’s vital lines, a burning pain ripped through his left side, and the wolf was gone.

Tucked out of sight, Wendell awoke with a agonising roar, his hand flying to his side to slow the bleeding above his hip. With a hiss, the man managed to get to his feet and stumbled in the direction of Freya’s whereabouts. He fell against a nearby building, raising his hand to catch himself, a bloody print left on the wall in his wake.

Wendell used the adrenaline flooding his body to run up the path and into the inn where they had planned their escape, met by a sea of gasps as he tripped and fell to his knees. One of the patrons helped him up, and asked him what had happened, but struck deaf and dumb by the pain, Wendell only had one mission, to find Freya before Gorroc or his hired men could.

He climbed the stairs, leaving blood on the rail, both of his hands soaked and shaking. Wendell found the door to the captain’s hideout and pushed it open, his vision blurred as he stepped into the room. She was there, packing her things and readying to leave, her form growing further and further away the more light headed and dizzy Wendell became.

“Freya,” her name no more than a pathetic breath on his lips

Wendell buckled, forced to kneel before his fate, blinking at the white light that stretched across the corners of his vision, burned red, and then went black. His hand shook in front of the open wound, the left side of his shirt and the top of his trousers painted with his own blood.

They were coming, he had tried to warn her, and fell from the good graces of his gods, into the abyss.
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Freya DuCarinos
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Gorroc forced his eyes open, looking past the hot pain as he tried to focus on the details around him. People were screaming and running. He had no time for that… Everyone had vanished, even the strange wolf that tried to attack him. Looking down at his dagger, he saw no blood covering it like he expected to. His fury ebbed above the surface and he gritted his teeth, stalking down the dock.

Something caught his eyes however, as he passed a corner. There upon the stone was a pool of blood with droplets leading away from it. The wolf had been here… and in its wounded state, it was probably going back to a safe house. If it was protecting Caed then it must know Freya… Gorroc smirked and followed.



Freya had been shoving what little clothing and items she’d brought with her into a large bag she carried inside the city. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to leave Ne’haer so soon. Being back here had pulled a sense of homesickness from her heart. There were so many she wanted to find, to make sure they were alright after the attacks in Vhalar, that they were still alive.

The woman didn’t turn when clunky boots sounded from the door. Tying up her bag, she turned her eyes from the window she’d been looking out of, “How did it go? Did you get the boat?”

“Freya…” A weak voice called, snapping her eyes to the man it belonged to. Golden eyes shifted green as she saw the amount of blood trickling out of Wendell’s side. “Wendell..?” Shock had her for only a trill until she watched him fall to his knees, “Wendell?!”

The biqaj ran to him, grasping him roughly by the shoulders to ease the rest of his fall to the floor. He was heavy, too heavy for her, and blacked out when his head hit the ground. “Wendell, no!” Freya’s voice shook as she leaned over him, slapping his face, “No, you have to stay awake, Wendell!” Almost immediately, thin fingers grasped at his blood stained shirt and began ripping it off him. She balled it up and pressed it roughly against the stab wound, her voice shaky, “Wendell, wake up!”

Not knowing what else to do, she did the only thing she could think of, “Someone help! Please!” Where was Caed? How did this happen?

Another set of heavy boots carried around the open door…

Gorroc.

“You did this…” Freya accused, still keeping her palms against the wound to stop the bleeding, but all Gorroc did was laugh.

“Shoulda known he was somethin’ else.” Gorroc stepped into the room, “Little wolf boy.”

“What?”

His eyes turned dark when they looked upon toxic emerald. When the man bent down and reached out, Freya did the only thing she could do as burly fingers wrapped around her throat: she kept her hands pressed to the wound.

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t yah?” Gorroc hissed, his grip tightening painfully. Natural reaction saw one thin hand grip his wrist, as if that was enough to remove it. “Where’re the drugs?”

“Go… Fuck yourself…” Was her response and then she was yanked to her feet, the constricting grip around her neck closing off any air. He was strangling her…

Stepping over Wendell, Gorroc smashed her form against the wall, his voice screaming, “Where are they?!” Face reddened, nearly purple, the woman kicked and scratched, trying to get out of his hold but it was too late. She tried to say something, but it was only air.

The last thing she felt was being hurled against something hard and having it break against her back, then her conscious mind turned to the void of darkness.



Robed healers filled the room, muttered directions being spoken between them as two hovered over the form of a man: Wendell. The room had been ransacked and while there were many eyes peering in from the door, the only familiar set was that of Sugar’s. Freya and the giant Lotharro were nowhere in sight. Not even Caed was there to see the aftermath.

The healers lifted Wendell onto a cloth stretcher and removed him from the room. Alas, there was nothing left to go back to...
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Wendell! He heard Freya call to him, but the darkness was so inviting and warm. Five more bits, he thought, then I'll wake. In dreams he had his arms around her and could hear the crack of the fireplace keeping the room temperature comfortable. He had never intended to start something with the woman, she still infuriated him at times, and he refused to make their affair known to any of the crew. But some nights, when it was safe to, and all the others were drunk or passed out in their beds, he would sneak into her room and they would lose themselves for a while.

“Wendell?”

The man smiled, expecting to wake to Freya, startled as he peered into Sugar’s familiar eyes.

“Sugar?” his voice was husky, throat and lips dry.

“Shhhhh,” she smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Drink something.” she raised a glass of water to his lips and he drank.

“You're awake,” Haraji said, arms folded, they had never really gotten along well. “Perhaps you can elaborate on the course of events that got our captain kidnapped!”

“Shut up!” Sugar snapped at him. “He's been out cold for two days, let him be.”

Wendell tried to sit up, and a foreign pain burned in his gut. “Ah!” he hissed, his hand going to his side.

“The doctors fixed you up good,” Sugar told him, “said if you rest up the scar will be minimal.”

“Like hell,” Wendell spat and climbed from the bed. He needed to piss and disappeared to the bathroom.

The closed door muffled the sound of his agony, a string of curse words spat from his lip. When he wandered back into the room, his brow gleamed with sweat, and he looked breathless.

“Everything okay?” Haraji asked, not that he really cared, he just wanted to know if Wendell would be able to sail, and soon.

“I've never pissed red before if that's what you want to know,” he hissed and found a shirt to wear in the bag of things Sugar had collected from the ransacked tavern room for him.

Haraji grinned. “We need to move, Caed has taken the boat and all of the drugs, they aren't where I left them.”

“Freya?” Wendell asked.

“Gorroc got her, no thanks to you. Fucking pissant.”

“Peon,” Wendell muttered.

“You piss on me and I'll cut your cock off,” Haraji threatened, still smirking.

Wendell smirked.

Sugar just looked confused. “Drugs?” she inquired.

“Expensive drugs,” Haraji told her, “almost as expensive as your fucking doctors bill if we don't get out of here soon.” he looked at Wendell.

Wendell threw his bag over his shoulder and made for the window.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Sugar folded her arms, “I'm not climbing out the window.”

“Then we’ll meet you on the docks,” Haraji told her.

“You as well!” she raked her fingers through her hair. “By the immortals, don't break your necks.”

“It's okay,” Haraji grinned, “This fat prick will break my fall.”

Wendell only laughed.

They met on the docks under the cover of night to the sound of weighted rope swinging back and forth in the breeze. Wendell stalked along the dock, ignoring the pain in his side, looking for the perfect boat.

“Are you mad?” Haraji hissed. “If we steal a boat, we will have a bounty on our heads!”

“Afraid of a little bounty?” Wendell teased. “I'll race you to ten large.”

“I've done better in my sleep,” Haraji scoffed. “We need something fast if we are going to catch up with Caed or beat him back to your whore of a city.”

“That whore of a city pays quite well, show some respect.”

“When you earn it, pissant.”

“What about that one?” Wendell pointed to a red sailed schooner in the back.

“It's a little bigger than Freya’s, we'd need a third man.”

“We have Sugar,” Wendell pointed.

“No you don't,” the harlot folded her arms, “I can't sail!”

“Then we’ll find someone!”

“Two can sail it, but we will need to take turns sleeping, and then what will you do, set the sails and steer all by yourself?”

“I could steer,” Sugar piped up, that didn't sound too hard, she thought.

“Trust me, darling, you couldn't steer that thing in a storm, not when the waves are high as mountains and the wind is against us.”

“Then we find a third man,” Wendell pointed to the nearby tavern. “And quickly.”
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For days now Patrick had been waiting and wondering; played by ear when this whole this was suppose to go down. No not what had occurred recently between the mercenaries and the quarrel over a bounty, although that too did ring a bell of something else in his mind. No what Patrick had in mind was a much different event, a soiree he was intended to crash so he could manage to pick up an artifact.

Well... steal was more appropriate, but quite honestly Patrick had found it first in the beginning. Either way the constants between Crowley and his research, and the reliance on the chalice to locate this lost city; both made Patrick anxious as he yearned to just get on with the adventure already. The discovery alone overwhelmed him of course, so when he made a deal with the old geezer, he honestly didn't know if he was ready to stick with it. A jewel connected to the Emea, now that had to be worth a fortune in its own right. And if it could aid Patrick in his own endeavors, then it would be all the better before he wound up getting rich.

Thus he'd sat here in the tavern where he'd been staying, basking in his work at the Glass Rose as he'd slowly worked up a reputation. No doubt he'd be able to use that for influence, when the time came to crash the soiree and scam his way to the chalice. Before him next to the mug of cider he gripped was the ornamental dagger he kept, his thoughts already counting the wealth he might gain in selling the Emean Jewel. Greed was a terrible thing indeed; the way it both motivated and consumed the mind, Patrick never suspected himself so easily tempted by it until now.

Soon, or so he would tell himself, soon he wouldn't have to fear anybody else ever again. Not with the amount of wealth and power he'd get from this search. Yet something else seemed to be afoot, the grand scheme deemed fate worked another one of its ironies. What did it bring? For starters a whore and... another whore. Two of them which both held familiar faces, while their third party member wasn't.

Hang that! He was one of Freya's men. Patrick recalled seeing him the day they found Wendell, which was also the day he attempted to stab Gorroc in the side. If Wendell was here now though, then what did that spell for them? For Patrick even? The harlot merely grasped the dagger to slide it away within his pocket, while he watched Wendell approach once he spotted who he came here for.

"Well Audrae's saucy knickers, ain't every day I see a familiar face come my way." He feigned casualty for the sake of conversation, though he already knew Wendell being here was anything but casual.
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“Shit the bed!” Wendell said as they walked into the tavern.

There was a face he hadn't seen in a long time, but was Pratick as happy to see him as he was to find the man in Ne’haer.

Wendell approached, abandoning the others, who were busy buying supplies and securing a man for the journey. Wendell sunk down into a seat across from Patrick and adjusted the bandana around his neck, black in colour, and concealing the tattoo his new associates had… gifted him.

“What's a wet sock like you doing here?” He kicked the man under the table, playful, and leaned forward, fingers drummed upon the tabletop. “I'm going home,” he whispered. “Gorroc took Freya and we are st-” Wendell looked about to make sure no one was paying them any mind, “stealing a boat tonight, why don't you join us?”

He was sitting on the edge of his chair, ready to jump up and get the hell out of here as soon as Haraji gave the signal.
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Wendell's approach had been far more cheery and enthusiastic than Patrick anticipated, the fact he even received such warm greetings almost alarmed him really. Yet there was no denying of course the sense of brotherly familiarity Pat felt towards Wendell, well enough to smile as he felt a kick at his shin in a impetuous manner.

"Been in Ne'haer for a lil' while now, had important business t' take care of." He remarked with a cheeky grin just before the man leaned inward, apparently what he had to say next needed to be under hushed whispers. With good reason too apparently, as Wendell made note of what his plans were here soon. Gorroc had managed to take Freya? That bastard never knew when to call it quits apparently, and so the plan was to steal a boat and make a run for home? An interesting turn of events to say the least, no doubt the scuffle a couple days back had been just that.

Going home was something Patrick wanted more than anything, he longed for free spirited nights of debauchery once more. Yet he had something else going on here he couldn't just abandon, something that made him hesitate to respond as he looked grimly to Wendell. "Now? Of all times?" He remarked in question and when he only received a nod for confirmation, Patrick cursed to himself at how sudden the moment of opportunity came. Home. The very thing he wanted to see now, and he could make that happen if he left tonight. Or... here in Ne'haer where he could work on this plan to hunt for long lost treasure.

Crowley sure seemed a promising individual to work with but... but what if Patrick went alone with the whole thing. He needn't rely on Crowley for the whole ordeal, just the research notes he could get his hands on. Easily in fact. "Alright, can ya buy me some time? There's a number o' things I gotta grab, my own shit included of course. Just tell me when and where, and I'll make it there before ya set sail." He finally queued an answer as he looked to Wendell once more, if he was going to do this then he needed to get everything together before ditching this place.
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Wendell was a wanderer, he always had been, able to live out of a single bag no matter where he went. Things had never been important to Wendell, and while it seemed people didn't make that list either, Wendell cared more than he let on.

The captive scoffed and leaned back in his chair, but offered a nod in response. “You don't have important business,” he teased the man in front of him, giving Patrick a knowing look. “One break,” he confirmed, “meet us at the end of the docks.”

His look changed to one that appeared less friendly than it had been, one that seemed to suggest if Patrick so much as breathed a word of this to anyone or did anything to fuck it up, he wouldn't soon forget, because Wendell wouldn’t let him.

“One break,” Wendell told him, again and pushed away from the table to get to his feet, sucking in a sharp breath due to the pain in his belly.

He crossed the tavern and stood beside Haraji at the bar without so much as glancing in the man's direction. “Got one,” Wendell murmured, and Haraji looked about to see Patrick leaving.

“He looks strong,” the pirate observed. “He can sail?”

“By the time I'm done with him,” Wendell agreed with a nod.

“Where is he going?”

“We meet at the docks in a break.”

“Finish with the supplies,” Haraji told him, “I’ll make sure our new friend doesn't get any… ideas.”
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