21st of Vhalar 720
The members of SOCKS had set Woe to the task of finding his way to Viden, giving him the address and knowledge of Llyr's organization of Aota. The mage had a mind to send the rest of his household to Viden, if things went well in Viden and he found a place for them. The first order to that end was determining how safe the passage could be on the boat, going from Quacia all the way across the world to the frozen city in the north. He couldn't escort them through dream walking and wasn't sure that such an avenue of travel would be entirely safe in itself.
So he arranged to have a social call on the captain. She was a stocky woman, about five foot and five inches, and half again as wide with salty black hair and a tanned complexion. Yet he could see that she was a rough individual, just by the look of her as she let him onto her boat. As they were ostensible of equal rank, Woe dispensed with the formalities and called her by name. He didn't know if such was the appropriate etiquette. "Hello, I'm Woe Morandi. You are Sera Cifino?"
Her face almost screwed up, and Woe could sense her displeasure at leaving out her title. Nevertheless, she corrected her expression just quick enough and allowed Woe onboard. "Yes, Captain Cifino." She replied in the same Vahanic that Woe had greeted her with.
"Captain, then. Apologies." Woe frowned, looking down at the gangplank as he boarded. "You sail to Viden, by way of the Crescent Coast?"
"Aye." She said, as she led him toward her cabin. Inside the captain's quarters, was a myriad of tools of war and maritime occupation, as well as maps and a spacious bed at the other end. She clearly profited from her business as the mistress of the vessel. "We go by way of Athart, Yaralon, Volanta, Rharne... That way."
Woe took a seat at a table that she indicated for him, and she took a seat opposite, giving him a stern look. "You're not afraid of pirates and mercenaries then? Have you had trouble in Etzori waters?"
She smirked, shaking her head. Woe's tendrils traced the tapestry of her tangle, searching for signs of deception, but finding nothing. His etheric venom-laced words gave him little else to go on. She was either very still-minded or else a disciplined individual. "No, I have a good relationship with the Windshear brotherhood of Athart. We have an understanding that involves trading in flesh."
Woe nodded, taking that information in stride. Having had no small part in dealing with slaves, and even owning one himself, he wasn't bothered by the revelation. Slavery was an unfortunate necessity at worst, and an economic boon at best. At the same time, he was coming around to the idea that slavery might not be the best way to forge a way forward for civilization at large.
It made sense that she'd go by that way if she had escorts and watchers looking out for her welfare among the Brotherhood. At the same time, he was concerned about the proximity of her path to Yaralon's waters. Woe remembered all too well how terribly chaotic and unstable the environment surrounding Yaralon was, having abided for a time in Withersfield, and the sprawling mud-heap that was Yaralon.
Even so, he was intrigued by her supposed connections. He was already sold that she knew what she was doing. "Can you tell me more about your itinerary? When do you make berth in Quacia again? I may have more work for you in terms of transportation of my people to Viden if this trip goes well..."
He searched for the telltale sign of greed in her tangle and used that to strum. There were several gambling games going on below decks. He had sighted them with his enhanced awareness through attunement. And in truth, he needed no magic to hear their claims of "My Pot!" loudly proclaimed over the rattling of dice. So he began gathering the excess greed stoked by their games of chance and weaving it into this woman in front of him. He was at the verge of forming a nexus in her when she ventured to ask, "I can always transport more cargo if you have a need?"
Assured that he'd successfully piqued her greed, he intensified the emotion, forming it into a gentle nexus. This was all he could manage without pulling the entirety of the ship into the vibrations of avarice. He stirred the emotion in her and then pulsed with every injection of ether into his words. "Yes, perhaps? All in due time Captain, but first... I'd like to offer my services as a jailer and a disciplinarian. While I'm loathe to deprive you of such pleasant duties, I think you'd be best served by the knowledge that my scourge lay at the ready for anyone who questions your orders."
She quirked a brow at this and shrugged. She eyed a few of the cat-o-nine tails hanging from the walls, and then returned the gaze back to Woe. "So be it. I expect you'll be wanting a lessened fee?"
Woe held up his hand, and shook his head, "See what I can do with the worst of your derelicts, first. Then we'll talk about what kind of deal we can make. I ask nothing more than the opportunity to serve on your vessel, in exchange for passage to Viden."
It wasn't certain to what extent his knotting of her greed had piqued her interest enough. Enough to engender a sense of urgency in the hiring of this strange man. In honesty, he had expected not to have to use such tricks in order to arrange passage for himself. His reputation followed him at this point, afterall, and there was little he could do to hide from it, wherever he went. People knew him and regarded him with a variety of attitudes. For many, they viewed him with hatred, for some with gratitude, and for a few with fear. Woe had only begun to grow his reputation. What he did from here on in would solidify his reputation for good or ill. Would his misdeeds continue to bedevil him, or would he turn over a new leaf?
He rather suspected the first instance. But he'd surprised himself before.
In the end, she tilted her way to invite him on board. He shared a glance with Fleaface, who was hidden in the crowd, another of the filthy masses, just milling about and trying to find work. Fleaface gave him a sign of recognition, and then disappeared into the crowd. He would arrange matters for their later excursion to Nashaki, as they'd planned.
Woe walked with her, to where he would be lodging. It wasn't anything for the storybooks, just a glorified broom closet within the ship, but there was privacy there, a hammock and a chest to store his valuables. The Grifter's Eye would ensure that he would not be robbed by anyone. If any of his things were mislaid, or stolen, he would know exactly where to find them.
If the devils should throw his belongings overboard, he would have their hide stretched over the bannisters. He would let the sharks taste their blood until it drove them near to madness, and then give them meat to their satisfaction.
The dark thoughts and suspicions however were bidden to his mind by the Umbral Arachnid, he knew. He clamped down on that sensation of sadism that threatened to overcome him. He was determined to be a different man when he returned to claim his bride from Quacia. Though he was a iron fisted man wielding a scourge, he promised himself to only punish those who scoffed at the lawful order of the world. He was the demon stalking the Beneath for souls worthy of bringing to justice. He would not be that flayer and destroyer of innocent men and women.
As the Umbral Arachnid plucked his tangle, trying to urge him to greater acts of sadism, he knew he was in for a challenge. His discipline would not break, however.
The iron-tipped cat of nine hung from the wall of his small cabin on that ship, and he gazed at it in nostalgia. Remembering those many nights spent disciplining the worthy and destitute in Rynmere. Those were strange times in his life. An intermission of sorts between the shadow of a rat he was then, and the mage and arcane parasite-riddled wretch he'd become. Then there was his ultimate fate, a future yet to happen, which lay ahead of him. The other chapters written by others. First his bosses in the dungeons of Rynmere, then the arcane sparks that latched to his soul. Now, he'd gained mastery from all of them. The rest was his own to write.
