forum the Glittering Sea (closed group rp, 6/6)

Started January 11, 2023 by Deleted user

tune

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(Haha thanks for the positive responses, I quite like my boy. And as for Myriil's job, like you said maybe Thalia doesn't know. But if anything comes up empty, I can fill it :)

(fine by me! whatever works)

Finn had begun to gaze out the window, taking in the outside of the ship and what little they could see from it. Though the stack of plates causes Finn's gaze to come back to Esteban. Washing dishes isn't too bad a job, and something Finn had done plenty of times since they live by themselves and do not have the means to hire a maid. Even if Finn could afford that, they probably wouldn't want to anyway for fear of the maid discovering something that Finn didn't want others to learn. They hoarded their knowledge as closely as a dragon hoarded their treasure, not wanting anyone to receive it without getting something in return. Most things in Finn's life worked as exchanging something for another, such as information or money. Even at dinner they had remained mostly quiet, taking in the other's conversations carefully, though they didn't actually learn anything of use. That was hardly a shock, but it was interesting to hear what sort of dinner conversations were normal here regardless. Finn could use that to their advantage, hopefully using dinner conversation as one way to speak to the crew-members and gaining their trust. This mission would not work unless Finn could gain their trust first, and while they were a great liar, they weren't always the best with people, particularly those with strong personalities. Sure, Finn could probably charm a cute bartender into a free drink or weasel their way into a game of poker, but trying to get an entire crew to like them was a much harder feat.

Finn went to work helping Esteban wash and put away dishes as soon as the plates touched their arms, brought back to reality. The man seemed friendly enough, but Finn knew appearances could be deceiving. Still, they had to be at least somewhat nice here if they wanted any sort of trust or friendship in the future. What a weird notion. Befriending someone just to end up killing them. Certainly not something that Finn had ever done before; most of their past marks were just one and done, but they never shied from a challenge.

"Well, I do prefer being alive," Finn responded conversationally, giving a small smile. "That was a hell of a messy room, but the ship itself is nice. It might take a bit to get used to, but I'm sure that it's nothing I can't handle. How long did it take you to get used to it when you first arrived?"

(hi! here's my writing sample, sorry for the delay. it's from a oxo i'm in currently.)

Name: Blaze Everson
Age: 29
Gender, pronouns: male, he/him
Sexuality: bisexual asf
Aliases: none rn
Job: weapons expert/gunner
Alignment (not necessary): chaotic neutral
Species/race: shifter (animal form is a fox)
Appearance (please include height, build and strength, clothing, etc.): Blaze is a fairly chaotic person, and his appearance largely reflects that. He often has soot or some sort of burn mark or scar from whatever weapon he was testing recently or just from training, since he does that often to stay as strong as he can. He is likely to drive healers crazy with his penchant for thrills and danger. Has a collection of scars, some of which are fading and some of which are permanent, mostly on his arms. He looks much like a half elf when non-shifted (which is most of the time, though he will shift for combat reasons sometimes and practices fighting shifted as well).

Blaze stands at 5' 8" with a fairly lean build, but don't underestimate him–he has a lot of lean muscle built up and is quite fast and stealthy. He has tanned skin with a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and looks a few years older than he is due to shifter genes (since they become young adults at 10 and only live til around 70). He has a mess of reddish-brown hair and is usually clean-shaven. He has sharp, fox-like hazel eyes and an ever-present shit-eating grin. His nose is sharp and straight, like most of his features. His features tend to be fairly vulpine-like as well due to his shifter genes. His canine teeth are also slightly sharper than a normal human or elf's. While shifted, he still retains his scars, though underneath the reddish-brown fox fur they are difficult to see.

He usually wears whatever he can get his hands on, sometimes ending up with his clothes covered in something that he was using to experiment with. While he does have a bit of prowess as a blacksmith with creating swords and daggers, he vastly prefers creating bombs or other concoctions, which is bad for his clothes. He does clean up nice though, since his usual appearance isn't.

Personality: Blaze is a thrill seeker, never one to back down or shy away from a challenge. He loves the thrill of being on a ship crew and hates being idle. He always likes to give himself something to do, whether that is working on weapons, training, or just spending time with his fellow crew members. He is quite extroverted, and will talk a lot if given the chance. He has what seems like a never-ending well of energy when he has a project to work on or a new weapon to try out, but can get exhausted after spending long periods working on his weapons and explosives.

Despite his like of fighting, he does not always just fight head on. He loves strategy, and will fight dirty if he thinks it will make him win. He is extremely competitive. He also has a hard time prioritizing things in favor of whatever interests him at the current moment, and when he gets really into something it's normal for him to basically disappear for a day or two to work on it, emerging excitedly whether his new idea works or not. He is fairly proficient in many different types of weapons, but outside of his area of expertise can somewhat lack common sense. He is also quite gullible.

Likes/dislikes: He enjoys thinking of new ideas, working on weapons and explosives, training, spending time with his crew mates, meeting new people, and talking in general. He dislikes being told what to do (unless it's by the captain of course), rules, having nothing to do/wasting his time, dressing nice, and formality. He also hates cleaning up after himself, though he recognizes it is necessary.

Strengths/weaknesses: Strengths- He is extremely creative, good at several forms of combat, fairly good at blacksmithing, good with explosives, and good with people (usually). He is energetic and quite loyal as well.

Weaknesses- He is a bit lacking in the common sense department, not good with any sort of formality or authority (again, except the captain), forgetful, easily distracted, gullible, too competitive, and can get angered somewhat easily if he is in a bad mood. He is also brave to the point of being foolish sometimes, and will protect the crew with his life (again, to the point of foolishness) because he believes it's his job. He neglects any form of self care because he is too focused on his projects. Bad sense of direction.

Brief backstory: Blaze was brought up in a clan of other shifters, learning the ways of the wild. He was among the best fighter in the clan because of his affinity with both strategy and weapons and his dedication to it. He was an absolute menace to the healers and to many of the others in the clan because of his tinkering with new ideas and precious materials as well as a penchant for mischief. As he grew older, he grew more curious about life outside of the clan, and eventually said farewell to explore new things. He had always hated having to stay in one place, feeling stagnated if he was unable to constantly be doing things or seeing new places. This desire led him to many different towns, never quite settling down and always wandering.

He began to miss the closeness of being in a clan and the feeling of being apart of something. However, due to his terrible sense of direction (despite his animal form being a fox) he wound up heading towards the coast instead. He ended up joining the crew, originally intending it to be more of a short-term thing, but found he enjoyed the thrill of being a pirate and was able to feel the closeness that he had been craving without the feeling of being boxed in he felt in the clan. He used the skills he had picked up along the way to be the weapons expert and man the ship's guns (assuming it has any).

Extra:

sorry about the length T-T

It was gorgeous outside- sunset was a few hours away, and the port bathed in the light of the sun. The upcoming festival was being prepared, the citizens of Astriz joyful and excited. The energy was electric. Maybe contagious, too, but Captain Whitlock couldn't tell- her energy was always this heightened. Especially during a robbery.

The woman stood, peering over the banister at the port. Her radiant smile signified that the job was almost done. She admired her own setup- a robbery in broad daylight. No one should suspect anything, not yet. The merchants will have noticed their missing supplies by the time Corusci Maris had left. After this, it seemed unlikely they'd be allowed in the port again. That did not bother the captain at all. She saw that as an accomplishment. She wondered if the authorities would put up a fight. Even if they did, she trusted the crewmembers she had sent. Twelve fine gunners, who would soon be returning with the third round of supplies and goods, plenty for the next few weeks. Maybe coin. They would be back any minute now; but for the time being, Captain Whitlock stood, patiently waiting. Patient to an extent. She was eager to move on, and surely the townspeople would notice something.

"Took you long enough." Thalia said teasingly to the gunners she sent once they had returned. In reality, this was unfolding perfectly, with enough room to leave. For now, the supplies would stay in a heap on the wooden deck while the woman made hasty orders to get the ship out and away. Her satisfaction was evident. A perfect, clean escape, feeding her streak. As usual, it pained her not to make more of a scene, but she would much prefer to leave alive than remembered. She would have preferred both, but the opportunity would present itself at the right time. Hopefully, that time was within the next week or so, because Thalia was becoming anxious about it. There were lines in her head she was dying to voice.

After a few minutes, Corusci Maris was beginning to move along with the wind of a perfect mid-August's day. As it moved slowly, Thalia walked from the main deck nearest to the helm, across to the quarterdeck in swift strides. A grin still on her face, she watched Astriz become farther away. Again, she watched contentedly with her hand on the banister. But suddenly something caught her eye, allowing uncertainty in.

Several people began piling into smaller boats. Three of them. What stood out the most was their official-looking uniforms and weapons. It struck Thalia faster than the bullet that'd just flown past her head would have- and upon realizing it, her shock turned back into a smile- one more sinister than before. She considered the familiar sound of a gunshot to be enough of an alert.

Blaze wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the new captain. On one hand, she was sure livening up the place–not that pirate ships were entirely dull to begin with, though–and Blaze was always ready for a new adventure or endeavor. He was a bit reckless in his attempts at thrill-seeking, however, which made him question this new captain a bit. If she was doing the sort of thing he would do if he were in charge, was that really a good thing? He wasn't sure. But he could say that he didn't mind being thrust into imminent danger or in the throes of a new endeavor. This whole robbery in broad daylight sort of thing wasn't half bad, though; the new captain certainly learned a thing or two about strategy from the past one. Blaze would envy her for that, but he knew that he sure as hell wasn't fit to lead anything, especially not a whole crew. He would much rather take on his own tasks aboard the ship and be a sort of weapons expert for the crew.

As he and eleven other gunners (or in Blaze's mind, competition), had come back with exactly what they set out to steal. So, therefore, it seemed to be a successful mission. He barely had time to celebrate before he heard the sound of a gunshot. Well, shit. Apparently the mission wasn't quite as successful as Blaze had thought.

Honestly, though, he didn't mind fighting. After all, he didn't want to waste all of the training and work he'd put into his skills. He didn't do this shit for nothing. And if one knew Blaze well enough, he could also be considered somewhat…trigger happy. He got a bit too excited about guns and explosives sometimes, ready to test out his creations or something he had found or stolen and not really thinking of the consequences. He definitely an act now, think it through later sort of person which meant he rarely hesitated in a battlefield, but also could be end up causing him a lot of unnecessary struggle in the end. At any rate, he rushed to get everything ready in a flurry of movement. It was his time to shine.

Reia Barlowe had not gotten a chance to the see the sunset that afternoon, nor the afternoon before that. It had been that way for the last couple of days, as she had been cooped up in the Captain’s Quarters, endlessly pondering over the map stretched out in front of her. It wasn’t like the crew had been forcing her to stay in there. It was actually the opposite; many of her crew mates had encouraged her to set aside her work and come outside, while others even dared to try and break her concentration. But, no matter how much they bothered her, Reia would not leave the Captain’s Quarters. There was work to be done, and she wasn’t one to take her job lightly.

On the Corusci Maris, Reia was navigator, as she had been since she had joined the crew at the age of twenty-four. Being the ship’s navigator was a hard job to undertake, but Reia normally kept up with her work load, spreading her tasks out throughout the week. However, lately, Reia had begun to get behind. She had barely started on planning their trip after their stop at Astriz, and she didn’t even know if they had enough food to make it through the journey. Reia knew what disasters this lack of planning could cause, so she spent most of her time in the Captain’s Quarters, planning out their next move.

On that day, Reia was almost finished counting up their supplies when a sudden noice cut through the silence. Reia could feel her heart jolt to a stop. That wasn’t just any noise. It was a gunshot. A few moments later, shouts began to break out over the deck.

Reia wasted no time. She pushed herself up from the table, almost knocking her lantern over, before she grabbed her coat and jammed her arms through the sleeves. She reached into its pocket, and her fingers quickly came into contact with the cold metal of her pistol. The feel of it was strangely comforting to Reia, offering her a sense of protection. It was ironic, considering how many people that very weapon had killed.

Without another thought, Reia hurried to the entrance of the Captain’s Quarters and flung open the door. Light poured into the room, briefly stinging her eyes, but as the burning sensation died away, she could start to make out the figures of her crew mates darting to and fro across the ship. After she made sure her pistol was loaded, Reia made her way onto the deck, eager to figure out what was going on.

Myriil stayed on the ship as some of the others went to land, much to his utmost chagrin. The land would surely make his legs wobble as much as the sea did in the beginning of his work, but the allure was strongly there. His heart ached to be on land, among the tree's and animals rather than floating on the corpse of tree's bobbing about on a vast ocean. But the heart was treacherous, more so than anything else, and Myriil had learned by now to ignore its call. And so he waited.

The new Captain was daring, more so than her predecessor, bold and fearless in her chicanery. It amused the wood elf to no end that Thalia didn't quite know where he fit in yet, like Captain Ambers did. They'd had an agreement, the two of them. Myriil had… something over his head it seemed like. No one was quite sure why he was tolerated. All the crew knew was that one day he was onboard and walking around, helping out in places, but not really doing anything substantial that they could see. The rumors had made him smile and he'd intentionally inflamed a few of them. So he was still here, through the death of the Captain, though his role here would likely be coming under closer scrutiny in the near future. Maybe land was not far off after all.

Myriil sat in the rigging, perched on a small tangle of ropes, and balanced very carefully. The crows nest had its people, and he was not helping with the lookout. He was preoccupied plying the knots out of his hair with nimble fingers, working the thin gold into complex braids and patterns, before undoing it all in a moment. His earring today was made from bits of feather and pieces of fishhook he'd found discarded on the deck. The feathers twisted and curled around each other, hanging down just enough to bump into his chin when he moved his head too quickly.

The wood elf looked up as he heard the dull thuds of sacks and crates on the wooden deck. Myriil's mouth pulled into a smile, and he made his way down from his aerial perch, placing his hands behind his back and inspecting the goods with an impressed whistle. He walked back and forth, poking at things, picking things up and twisting them in his hands then placing it back down, before the gunners shot him enough dirty looks and he gave a light laugh, hoisting up two of the heavy bags. He moved the stolen cargo from the deck to the hold, making several small trips, taking all the things too tedious to get in one.

Eventually this got boring and Myriil looked around, spotting the Captain at the railing, watching the port town, her expression a mask of excitement and stoicism. Best not to bother her, the longer he was allowed to stay onboard, practically loafing about without a job, the better, so there was no reason to draw undue attention to himself. So he went back to ferrying thing up and down the ship, scampering about and getting in peoples way where he could. The wood elf flashed a sailor holding a heavy crate a bright smile as he stood in front of him, only just blocking the doorway enough so that he couldn't get through. He crossed his arms, leaning on the door frame, even going to far as to cross his legs, looking entirely relaxed, then making a charming comment about the weather to his friend and asking about his wife, the third one, not the first obviously. Did they still not know about each other yet? The irritation on the mans face grew and he placed the crate down, face red with exertion and a flush of anger, when gunshots began to ring out.

Myriil froze at the noise like a startled deer, locked into place, his eyes widening as he began to glance around wildly for attackers not in sight. Then he relaxed, slipping away from the equally surprised, angry sailor with a laugh, clipping his shoulder as he brushed past, giving him a nastily sweet smile. In the open sunlight, Myriil rushed to the railing, leaning over and peering back to search for their pursuers. If there were any, perhaps one of the men was celebrating early and wanted to set off a gun or two to salute the Captain on her success.
Alas, they had company, three small boats trailing behind them like lost puppies. He wrinkled his nose, stifling a groan, this meant he had to actually do work. Rubbing his temples, the wood elf wandered over to some rope, he moved with such a careless grace that it seemed almost accidental that he helped with the sails, that he just stumbled upon the right rope to pull and dropped it at the right time. He did what someone yelled at him to do then followed a different voices direction, until he was told to ready those still downstairs.

He ducked under some ropes, dancing past a group of men readying their weapons, and headed back below deck. Most had heard the shots, but some were still unaware, the sounds muffled by their surroundings. Poking his head through the door of the hold, his thin, long ponytail tumbling over his shoulders, he stared at the men still unloading and organizing the goods.

"I can take over for you boys. Captain needs hands on deck." Myriil gave an absent shrug, conveniently forgetting to mention they were under attack, but he was sure they'd figure it out soon. Context clues and all, the smart kids. The men grumbled, but did as told, and Myriil contented himself with pushing boxes around until they looked vaguely organized. Then scrambling up a pile to sit on, resting his head on the wall and kicking his legs. As more shots sounded above him, he couldn't help but shake his head and smile. Poor fools.

Tao wandered around the the back of the hold behind a wall of crates. He froze as some of the crew brought more crates and stacked them to his ever thickening wall. Talking as they worked, they moved sacks and crates until there was almost no light coming from the other side, and even the voices were muffled. Tao let out a breath of relief and moved back to where he had been molding a bag of grain or something into a bed shaped mass where he promptly flopped down and tried to make sence of the conversation happening on the other side of the wall.

Not long after two of the men abruptly stopped talking and ran up to the main deck, a new person came down and told the others that he, according to the voice, would take over for them and that they were needed up on deck. Tao raised an eyebrow. How would one man take over for the group that had been working on it? He shifted on his sack and moved over to the thinnest part of the wall to look in between the boxes at the newcomer.

Tao watched as the other men left and the new commer shifted a few things to make it look sort-of organised before jumping up onto the pile of crates he was hiding under. Careful not to make any noise in the now almost silent hold, Tao moved back to his sack and sat down on top. He waited for a second as he listened to the man kicking his legs before sneezing and breaking the silence. Tao froze and quickly moved to underneath the sack rather than on top of it. Praying that its bulk would hide him.

Myriil was quite content with himself, he was sitting in a nice protected spot on the ship, while everyone else did Y'ffre knows what above, and he had several convenient and mostly true excuses for why he was there. It was a comfy position to be in, and he wasn't likely to get shot or maimed or captured. The only thing was that it was slightly dull, sitting alone while hearing the muffled sounds from above. The hold was near silent as a matter of fact, and Myriil was just considering humming or finding some kind of instrument in the clutter when a sound broke the silence for him. Or rather, someone did.

Myriil's ears perked up, the sound had come from below him, maybe a little bit behind. It sounded like a sneeze, it was too wet sounding to be the tearing of a sack. Soon after the noise was a rustling of grain, maybe a scurrying sound. That more than anything confirmed his suspicions. With a small hop, the wood elf was off the crates, landing silently on the ground, crouching his knees just slightly to quiet the impact. With slow, deliberate movements, reminiscent of a bird hunt back home, Myriil started searching through the crates and sacks. Trying to be as quiet as possible, before a slight idea popped into his head, his lips curled into a smile.

"…Hello? I know someones here. It's alright, you can come out, I won't hurt you." Myriil spoke in a calm, soothing and friendly voice. It was how one spoke to a frightened doe in a field, whole showing open palms, leading it closer into the open. Of course the next move would be to have a friend shoot the doe through the eye, but that was neither here nor there. The wood elf continued his slow search, even going so far as to start gently tugging at the lids of crates to see if they had been pried open for someone to hide inside.

"I promise I'm a friend! I don't belong here either." His smile was still there, and he was on high alert for any more sound, even that of rustling cloth or sudden movement. Walking on light feet to minimize noise and whispering just above the audible level. He glanced around corners before he turned them, and he was methodical in checking the ground. The sound had come from below after all, it was worth a shot, it was just annoying how many things were stacked on top of each other. It made the whole process a pain.

Tao held his breath and sayed as still as he could, flinching when the man jumped off his stack and landed with a soft thud. He breathed slowly, as quietly as he could. Jumping a little each time the Man got closer. He opened a crate and Tao accidentally moved his head, one of his little horns getting caught on and tearing the sack a little bit. Some of the grains inside falling out and getting caught in his hair.

He froze as the man started talking. "…Hello? I know someones here. It's alright, you can come out, I won't hurt you."
Tao reached up slowly so as not to disturb anything and felt around for the rip. His fingers finding and filling it so that nothing else would fall out.
"I promise I'm a friend! I don't belong here either." Tao rolled his eyes. He had seen how the man has entered in and told those other men to get out. He didn't belong here as much as the crates were made of stone.

"I-" Tao whispered, his voice not even more than a whisper. "I- I don't believe you." He shifted again and more grain fell onto his face. Shaking his head to get them out, he wondered in his mind whether or not that was a good idea.

Another shot, which also missed. Instinctually, the captain drew her gun from her belt and fired twice, three times, once at what she assumed must be one of those officers and twice at the boats- mostly wooden, with some metal parts. Fools. The first bullet hit but only struck a man's forearm. Before continuing, though, she lowered to a knee and shot through the gaps between the bars. She was well aware that her spot was vulnerable, and wished she'd had a different gun prepared. Her smile faded now, lost in focus, and traded for a stoic stare as she continued to shoot into the wood, making holes where she hit and dents where bullets met metal. , The third boat veered to its left. Thankfully the ship was moving faster now and members of the ship were starting to realize the disturbance.
Whitlock ignored the boat that'd veered. it was damaged, not much, but enough for then. But despite the seven brand-new holes in it, it had only slowed slightly. Thalia stood up and started to walk backward, away from the edge. Even with the current forces of her crew, that might not be enough to push back.

The ship was now moving at a swift, steady pace, but these boats were as well. They seemed to be powered by nothing. Was it possible that they were reinforced by magic? How long would the effects of that last? She almost felt wronged, cheated. It took her a moment to remember she'd just sent gunners to rob the town. That didn't matter, right then, though.

"CANNONS!" The woman roared, not daring to elaborate. "Prepare to fire, NOW!"

These men were shooting with a similar strategy to Thalia, at the ship and the crewmembers. She hadn't seen them hit anyone yet, but nothing was stopping them from doing so. She walked back up, not quite at the banister as a first attempt at caution. Her pistol was raised again and she continued to fire, now at a boat only touched by the bullets of those beside her. Three holes, one body. That was about to be a few more.

The streak of quiet escapes was definitely broken now. That streak was five times. The captain was aware she could have been more prepared and could have slipped under the radar if she really wanted to. But she didn't care very much. Putting the lives of those on the ship, and even her own life, on the line was something she didn't often consider. It wasn't that she thought of herself as immortal by any means, just that avoiding death was her reason to live, no matter how narrow the dodge may be.

If there was one thing that Reia was good at— other than navigation, of course— it was shooting. She wasn’t very good at hand-to-hand combat, but when it came to gunning someone down, well…. let’s just say she had a lot of experience.

Reia crouched down near the edge of the boat, hidden from bullets raining down on them. Her hands shook with adrenaline as she peered over the edge of the ship. There, clear as day, were the three men, rowing towards them on their tiny boat. Reia could tell simply by looking at their uniforms what kind of men they were, and she knew that more of these men would likely be after them in a matter of minutes. She figured it would be better to flee and get as far away as possible instead of fighting a crew much bigger than their own, but that was the Captain’s call to make. Either way, if they were going to make it out alive, they needed all hands on deck and no one slacking off.

After firing a round of shots at their pursuers, Reia began to go throughout the ship, finding the cowards hiding from the fight and threatening them with punishment if they did not help in the effort to protect the ship. Reia found at least a dozen men hiding away, which was disappointing yet not surprising. However, there was one place she had yet to check. The storage room in the lower deck.

Reia stayed with the others for a long while, helping the efforts to fight off the attackers, until she eventually left and went below deck. She swung open the door of the storage room, and low and behold, there was Myriil, hiding away among their supplies.

Reia crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Really? We’re slaving away on the upper decks, and you’re down here, hiding like a coward,” Reia snapped. “You better get up there before I hurl you off the ship myself.”

Blaze, true to character, did not stop trying to fight their pursuers for even a moment he had heard the gunshot go off. He was focused on one thing and one thing only, and that was everyone on the ship getting away safely. He would do whatever it took to make that happen, the familiar adrenaline kicking in as he want to his position at one of the cannons. His gaze narrowed in on one of the approaching ships, firing his cannon with the practiced air of someone who had done this many times before. Unfortunately, the boats were not big targets, which would things quite a bit harder for them to hit. But Blaze would not be deterred.

As Blaze released his cannon, he managed to hit one of the boats, causing a vicious grin to break out across his face. Yes! That would cause a serious dent in their ability to pursue the ship. He felt a rush of satisfaction, momentarily basking in it before getting his cannon ready for another round. He was great at cannon duty, and it was one of his favorite aboard the ship if he were honest. Sure, hand-to-hand combat or making weapons was fine, but nothing could beat using the cannons except making his explosives. Everyone who knew him knew that Blaze was notoriously trigger happy and that he was a little too happy to get to use the cannons, but wasn’t everyone aboard a pirate ship bound to be at least a little strange?

As he readied the cannon in case a second round was required, he wondered what the others were up to. Naturally, most people on board would be doing something to try and stop their pursuers, but he figured that some pathetic people would be trying to hide. Blaze had met enough people in his life to know not everyone’s first response to a fight was to fight back. He was not a fan of those who shirked their duty. However, he would still protect them if it came down to it. Whether someone carried their weight had no determination of whether Blaze would do everything it took to defend them. Blaze was determined to keep everyone on the ship safe, whether he personally liked them or not. In battle, such petty squabbles didn’t matter. They were all a team. That was what Blaze loved about it.

Myriil was continuing his slow and methodical search, but the gunfire from above and the natural creaking and swaying of the ship was making it hard to listen for small sounds, even for him. He wasn't annoyed by his lack of progress, on the contrary, he was slightly excited at the thought of a hidden person in the hold, friend or enemy. He leaned over, checking underneath a crate that had been propped up on support beams. The storage room was dark and even Myriil's adept eyes were struggling to adjust to the gloom, the door being closed was probably the main reason. He was just about to give up his little quest, having looked over every crate, every spot, and resign himself to thinking he imaged the noise, when a tiny voice squeaked out from the dark.

"I-" The voice breathed. "I- I don't believe you." Myriil froze, doing his best to pinpoint the location of the feather soft sound. He was in the right area, and he just needed to look down and right. He widened his eyes to try and see better, he thought he could see a lump in-
The door opened, bathing the storage hold with light, the wood elf hissed, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden barrage to his sight. He spun around, still half crouched and reaching for the misshaped sack.

Standing in the door way was a very, very pissed looking woman. On instinct he raised his hands in the air, still squinting at the bright light. The woman spoke, saying some less than kind words. Blinking a few times, he recognized the navigator, a woman named Reia, and he immediately pulled a face. He put on his best mostly offended look and scoffed.

"Slaving away? Hardly. And I'm not hiding, I'm organizing and protecting the cargo." Myriil somehow managed to sound both patronizing and sincere, he glanced at the sack of grain, his hands still held up in the air just in case the irate woman decided to make good on any of her threats. Making a split second decision, he decided not to say anything, he could come back later and find his mystery companion, if some of the other sailors didn't find the little voice first. Maybe he'd bring them some food, one could hardly pry open most of the things in the hold and go unnoticed after all, and liquids were stored elsewhere. His eyes drifted back to Reia.

"Besides~ I've always been more of a.. Hmm, whats the word? A mascot? We wouldn't want anything to hurt my pretty face after all." Myriil smiled a saccharine and slightly mocking smile , but even as he spoke he was clearly readying his weapons, looking annoyed all the while. He knew his excuses wouldn't fly, he'd been hoping one of the less intelligent members of the ship would have come searching for stragglers, to avoid being above deck themselves. But Reia didn't do things unless they were important, which might mean they actually needed help upstairs. Myriil shook his head, slightly disappointed, the famed Corusci Maris struggling against a few pursuers?

"…would you believe me if I said I left my gun in the common room?" Myriil gave a cheeky smile, moving away from the specific spot he was in, making sure not to glance backwards at the hidden person there. He was already moving towards the door, looking in absolutely no hurry, just to infuriate the navigator a little more. Turning backwards suddenly and making a great show of his sarcasm, the wood elf spoke loudly.
"And goodbye storage room! Stay safe without me here!" He shot a dirty look at Reia as he said it, as if trying to guilt trip her into feeling sorry for a room.

Reia couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Reia and Myriil had never been that close on the ship; they had never had a reason to talk. However, she had heard some things about him. Enough to make her suspicious.

“Mm, I see. You’re protecting the cargo when there’s an entire ship under attack,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Makes perfect sense.”

Reia stepped in the room, stealing a quick look around. She had been in the storage room multiple times that day to count supplies, but something about it just felt… off. She couldn’t place her finger on what. But, after exploring it for a few moments, she decided it must’ve been all in her head.

“A mascot?” Reia couldn’t help but snort at his comment. “I’m sure the other crew mates would disagree. And as for your pretty little face, don’t worry about it. I assure you it won’t stay pretty for long. Just look at mine.”

She motioned to her her face, which was covered in dirt, cuts, and blood. The truth is that Reia managed to keep up her appearance better than most people on this ship, wearing mainly dresses and keeping herself bathed, but she couldn’t help but get a little dirty during their fights.

“And don’t worry, dearest,” Reia said, beginning to head up towards the upper deck. “I, sure the storage room will be perfectly safe without you protecting it.”

There was a large splash as the cannonball hit. Whitlock grinned at the sight of the ship that had broken off from the group going down. Only two more now. She ran back up to the edge, her grip now one-handed and ignoring her previous thoughts about caution. Shooting at the boats proved useless, but the captain wanted no remnant of these officers to remain. She wanted their boats to sink and for them to drown, even if that was tedious.

It didn't take long to learn what she wanted would not work. The captain scoffed at her failed attempts and started to aim at heads, only to find herself out of ammo. It was all she could do not to hurl the pistol at the men below right then, but the fire in her general direction was getting harder to maneuver and she knew she'd miss. And lose her gun. She ducked behind the banister again, and luckily it wasn't all gapped, protected by a solid layer of wood, thinking about her next move. It did occur to her that it was idiotic to try and work her stance, but she thought it'd be smart to aim for the boats. Now she looked stupid hiding here- there was way too much thinking involved with this.

Thalia leaped forward, out of reach of most bullets, yelling to fire the cannons again. Ideally, that and the crewmembers firing would work, but if it didn't, she would have more ammo when she returned. Turning on her heel, she took off in the other direction, on her way to her own cabin. This could have been avoided, she thought for the fourth time. It was starting to dawn on her that she couldn't win every battle, not if she was like this. But she decided that wasn't her fault- this could not have been foreseen, could it? No, it couldn't have, then she would have seen it coming and prepare for it! Probably.

The captain reached her cabin and frantically searched for her supply. She switched the ammo as fast as possible, which she had learned to do from a young age. At least she had that prepared and going for her. Thalia Whitlock was, again, used to thinking that she'd win every battle. But if she won this one, it'd be a close match.

As with before, Blaze had no clue about the other goings-on inside the ship, preparing to fire the cannon again and waiting for the captain's orders. He had really started to warm up to her recently, since he found that she was more similar to him than the last captain had been. Of course, he was reckless and trigger happy, so it might not be the best thing to have a captain with those sorts of traits, but Blaze loved the thrill that she brought to the crew. He didn't know her very well, nor had he been excessively close with the previous captain, but Captain Ambers had trusted Blaze in his area of expertise. That was something which made him quite happy, especially when the captain had left him to his own devices to create something new and acted at least a little like he cared about Blaze's ideas. He just hoped Captain Whitlock would be the same. He had proved himself time and time again, such as just now with the cannons. These other fools just could not aim, could they? Oh well, guess that just gave him more cannon time. Blaze was the optimistic sort.

Once he heard the order barked by Captain Whitlock, Blaze's grin returned and he finished aiming the cannon before firing at one of the remaining boats. This time wasn't quite as precise as his first shot, but he didn't entirely miss the boat either. The cannonball instead grazed the ship, still doing some damage but not nearly the amount he had first achieved. He frowned, cursing as he readjusted the cannon in annoyance. He was already trying to work out the positioning of the ships and why he had missed–or as good as missed–this time. He was supposed to be an expert with these, come on! How would he keep up his reputation if he started missing shots? Sure, he had grazed the boat, but that was nothing compared to the last one. Blaze took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down somewhat. He had gotten cocky, overconfident as he thought about his achievements. That was always when he was at his worst. That, and when he got truly angry.

No time to berate himself. He started to ready the cannon for yet another round. Did he have any explosives on his person? He knew that it had been some time since he'd made the last batch, and was running low on anything that would do actual damage to their pursuers. He might have something tucked away if he went to check. That could at least slow down their pursuers, or throw them off their rhythm. However, Blaze did not have the best memory. He didn't want to abandon his post at the cannons if there wasn't anything of note that could help in this battle. It was funny, really, the whole of the pirates struggling so much against three small boats. But that was hardly the issue at hand. Blaze thought for a moment, trying to decide whether it was worth the risk of leaving the cannon when no one else had seemed to hit a boat yet. Well, if he was quick, he might still be able to do something with his cannon when he got back. Captain Ambers would have understood. Probably.

Whatever. He didn't have time. He got up quickly, rushing off to the crew's quarters to see if he could find any leftover explosives to use. Those concoctions could certainly work their wonders in this battle if Blaze had any left, and they were more than just smoke bombs. The captain surely wouldn't miss one gunner; Blaze's ego was getting big. He would be quick. He went at a fast pace, straight for the crew's quarters. Come on….