Silence (Open Thread for play)

[Ekaterina]

It had been months since she had seen Osiris, the Draco Lich or the mask changing being. Not that she'd complain about the lack of the latter two, and this made her wonder if they had been successful in seeing to Osiris' demise. Though wouldn't she sense it? Feel it deep in her soul, if Osiris had been defeated? Or had that which consumed him simply run its course and the man she once knew was no man at all any longer?

Questions answered questions and this was enough to frustrate the Norse to a degree. Many more months passed and soon there was a silence that enveloped the land in a false sense of security began to weight heavily upon her mind. The citizens of the area had began and completed their rebuilding of structures damaged during the various outbreaks of battles that plagued the city and outlying boundaries. The dead long since buried and the mourning of those lost now a memory to now dried eyes that no longer flowed with tears.

Unlike the people of the area, the Nordic woman did not find peace or solace during this time. She continued to refortify the guard of the area through the hiring of sell swords, men of the sea, and those who drifted into the area seeking employment and passed her critical screening. The Nobles had soon forgotten their fallen comrades that worked beside them to try and over take the Kiel area and continued on with their devious plots to take control of what was not theirs to have.

There were still those dedicated and loyal to her that reported back with information about the Nobles latest exploits and plans to attempt to rob the mines and incoming trade to profit from anothers fortune; which was most generally her own. Yet, unbeknown to them their actions were not going unnoticed, nor were they being ignored. Like a feral predator she laid in wait, awaiting that perfect opportunity in which to strike out in retaliation and lessen the number of the Nobles in control and then to seemingly innocently step forth to aide their widows and lay claim to not only their holdings, but their lands and the sworn allegiance of the widows in return for security for the rest of their natural lives.

The morning began like any other, the sun rose and offered a brilliance the belied the chill that still clung to the land during the early spring. The snow was slowly receding and giving way to the barren ground that laid beneath and awaited the warming of the later spring to produce new growth and the foliage that added color to the coming summer. The air was crisp and clean, ones breath billowed forth like the smoke from a chimney upon exhalation of breath. Not cold enough to demand heavy cover upon form to maintain warmth from the frigid air as before, but a chill that would gust from the open water and bath the land to the point that fur and woolen cloaks were still a necessity for travel.

Her time had been spent in travel between the Stumble Inn and her manor upon the cliffs. Most of her staff had lost their positions, mainly through death when she validated their working as a spy for the Nobles of the land. Their bodies littered the cliff-side as their now fleshless bones dangled in the straight-line winds as they swung from the very ropes that were still fastened about bony necks. A few still in a state of decay, due to the time in which they were disposed of. A total of thirteen in all now resembled an ornamentation of warning.

The mines were producing better than they ever had, and imports were slowly beginning to increase as the winter storms that plagued the open seas began to simmer to a dull roar and permitted ships to sail without fear of being sunk due to natures fury. Travel from distant areas by land were also becoming clear, so noted by the trickling arrival of unknown faces and caravans that often flocked to the sea side city to expand their trade and fill their purses with the weight of coin.

Ever vigil was she as she walked along these familiar streets, so well known she could navigate them in the darkest of night without light and never stumble upon a loose stone or debris as she moved with that predatory skill of grace.

She visited the local tavern of the main port area, in which she partook of a light meal and several tankards of her favored mead. The proprietor of the establishment, Carlotta, assured her all was well and business was flowing slowly, but smoothly. The man she had placed in Carlotta's charge as an indentured servant had earned the release of his bonds and had proved to be a valued employee over the passing months.

Leaving the tavern, she made her way towards the docks with the intent to visit the various warehouses that stored the items ready to be shipped and those received from ships that began to trickle into port for trade. It was also where she'd gain her information from those in her employ that watched the Nobles and other individuals of interest to give her updated reports.

Choosing to walk rather than ride, the massive equine followed after like a snow white shadow in the wake of the figure adorned in the Arctic Wolf cloak. Soundless were the steps of those flat heeled boots that made their way along the cobble stone road that lead through the business district, past the docks and into the warehouse district. Icy shards of crystalline blue ever vigil, as were all senses to sounds and scents passed in her movements.

[Tugarabog]

“There she lay!” The bellowing shout of a man from upon the crow’s nest echoed out across the rolling water of the bay. It was quickly followed by quite a lot of other shouting, none more so than from the towering Ogre who stood behind the ships wheelman.
“Prow to the Starboard, Mr. Hahn, bring us round nice and smooth. Mr. Fleischer, get down those sails, I want to coast right into that port! ” His voice was like that of a cannon, all on the ship could hear it, eliminating (some) of the need for other officers to relay orders, though not the need for them to oversee the massive crew. As the man who must have been Mr. Hahn started shouting orders to his men, the Ogre made his way from the topmost deck where the wheel sat and down onto the deck. It was towards a young man he strode who was making himself look busy by pouring as much elbow grease into cleaning a swivel gun as he could, who, upon finding himself suddenly within a shadow, looked up to the tower of meat and metal that was the Ogre.
“Look spry lad, go fetch the Boss, he’ll want to be topside when we arrive.”
From the shore line and the city proper, it could be seen with great easy; after all, the thing was of size so great it had four masts and hundreds of men aboard with just as many cannons. Sails fell and pulled in from the side as the vessel approached, purple flag sailing high upon the four masts. It was coming in quickly, cutting through the waves like a blade as it approached. It was not the first time this ship made port here at Kiel, but it was not a common sight at all, indeed she had only made port here once before. She was not hostile, nor was she bearing anything that would bring harm upon the city, for it had seen more than enough from the South in the past months. As the ship came closer it came clear of its nationality, for traders from the land had come to the city before, the crest and royal heraldry upon the flag was not one unknown to them, nor the noblewoman who walked the city today. It had been months sense it was last seen upon ship, and that was an event in which she sent it home with less cargo than it came, and less gold.

“Anchor the ship, Lads, bring ‘er round with port side facing!” The bellowing voice of the Ogre could be heard from shore, though not clearly or well. Following the commands of the captain, the anchor slipped free from the massive vessel, chain rattling before it splashed into the water and sunk into the depths of the bay. With a great force the ship wheeled about, turning sharply with the momentum to bring the ship about face a good distance away from the ports proper. This maneuver left the massive vessel blocking traffic, but more importantly, in position to fire, should the need arise. While no cannons could be seen, save those on decks, panels rested in place that could be lifted, four lines along the massive vessel. It was clearly a war vessel, a ship of the line, and a titan of one at that. Indeed it seemed that they may not have made port simply because they could not have fit at one of their docs. Yet, from around the other side of it, a vessel dwarfed by the ship that must have taken a forest to build appeared. It was a small row boat, with no more than four men aboard. Two of them sat upon the middle, manning the oars while one sat at the aft. Standing at the prow however, was the fourth and final of the small crew. Oars cut through the waves as the vessel approached until the central beam of the boat bumped gently against the pear.

Stepping off the boat and onto the pear with aid of a staff, the man who stood at the prow disembarked. He was a tall fellow, perhaps six foot six, though he was quite gaunt as well, and could not have weighed more than two hundred pound. He wore a black, double breasted frock coat with buttons of polished brass, though much of it was covered by a black cloak that hung over his left side, a cowl wrapped about each shoulder and all pinned together by a large silver pin and broach. High, polished black leather boots had been tucked into pants of the same description. Indeed, the only thing that broke up the partner of black and gold was a sash of red which hung about his waist and the pale white of his skin. He had stern, angular features, though they had been slightly worn with age. It was clear he was not a young man, though nor was he old and crippled. Upon his face he bore a sleek beard of black, cut close along his jaw and around his mouth and under the nose, ending at a sharp point at his chin. Hair that saw the kiss of grey at his temples was cut short and slicked back, held against his head. Eyes of sharp green looked out around the city behind thin rimmed spectacles, his right hand held fast by a staff of unknown metal, polished black that reflected the light of the Sun, the head of which was split into two serpents, spiraled around one another until they separated at the top, holding between them a large, orange, cut gem, set into the staff proper. On the hand that had purchase on the staff, about a slender middle finger, a onyx ring sat, a double helix of gold wire set around it. Set within the stone was a small group of Rubies that clearly showed the letter “W”

[Ekaterina]

Her destination was almost all but forgotten when she heard the dockhands shouting and the sudden movements upon the docks that she was making her way across. This had her pause in steps to look back to see what was going on. It seemed all were looking out over the port area and a few were even pointing. Some were shouting for all to run for cover, and this is what tempted her to abandon her path and turn to see what all the commotion was about.

When she had moved to where she could see the open water clearly, it was then she seen why so many took to sounding out warnings. A ship in the port, it's starboard side openly flanking the dock area. This did not bode well with the Nordic woman, who turned in time to grab one of the running dockhands arms and nearly pull him off his feet as she brought him to a sudden hault.

"You know who I am, immediate dispatch a message to Radcliff about this situation and for him to prepare the guard."

The man gazed upon her with a wild eyed look, and quickly nodded his head in agreement. Taking a message to Radcliff, meant he would be leaving the immediate area and clear of any possible projectiles the ship would let loose.

She stood there for quite some time and seen nothing ominous other than the fact the ship was blocking the ports entry with it's length. It was then she noticed the small dingy that began to cut across the open surface of the darkened waters. Eyes narrowed slightly as she took in those whom were within it. The colors of the ship were familiar, and there was trouble the last time she harbored close.

Turning, she'd watch as the men disembarked from the dingy to climb up the rough hemp rope and make their way to the dock. She made no move to approach, simply standing a short distance away in observation. She wasn't trying to hide from the vision of the new arrivals, and her stance would seem to be one of a relaxed nature, not one of defense; which didn't mean she wasn't ready to pounce. Arms slipped out of the sleeves of that cloak, although that wouldn't be noticed, and kept close to her sides within the cover of white fur.

If trouble was indeed afoot, she was ready to face it head on. The messenger had managed to cross paths with a few of her men, who were beginning to trickle to the dock area where he told them she stood in watch as well as waiting.

It would take the better part of ten minutes before Radcliff and the rest of the guards were to arrive, and he'd send them to strategic locations to be prepared in case a battle was to wage on.

[Tugarabog]

The fellow who had disembarked had, for a breadth of a moment, looked utterly shocked that people had fled, as he could only now see it from up close. Yet, after a moment of thought, the reasoning hit him. The patterns of thought could be seen upon his stoic face. Staring with a raised, well-trimmed, yet quizzical brow, followed by a look over his shoulder (That no doubt brought to him the realization that a war ship had all but broad sided the city) and lastly a knowing, slightly thingyy curl of his lips. Turning his back upon the city and facing the sea, he brought the ebony staff up no more than a hand full of inches from the dock and tapped it hard against the water kissed boards twice.

Far out in the bay, onboard the ‘Indyjestable’, as the Ogre Captain called and demanded it be spelled, all was quite well. Many of the sailors on deck watched the shore line with anticipation of what was to come next, some with spy glasses and others with hands over their brows to give strained eyes shelter from the morning Sun. One of those who bore a spy glass to his one remaining eye was the captain himself, Grath Barratt, a monstrous hulk of flesh and metal that was, at one point, entirely Ogre. Watching the signal given from on the dock, he pondered briefly its meaning, as well as the scampering of the town’s populace. Several minutes passed before his mind reached the same conclusion of the clear leader of the shore party.
“Bollocks!” He bellowed in a panic, waving his hand about to address the entire crew on deck.
“One of you blighters Strike the Colors ‘fore they ‘aul their own lead belchers out!”

From the shore, any who remained and bothered to keep an eye upon the vessel, they would see the flag lowering from the tallest of the masts, being replaced instead by a long and flowing white one that whipped about in the wind. Hoping this cleared up some of the panic, the fellow who had signaled for the flag change breathed a sigh of relief, offering the man at the aft of the boat a hand up before turning about to address the city once again, hopefully this time without spreading a panic. Leaving the two oarsmen to remain inside the dingy, he and the other fellow started to head off the docks. They seemed to communicate briefly before the man who was clearly not the commander of the shore party called out.
“Will my own people not welcome me home?”
His accent was indeed that of the locals, as was his language, his hair and beard. The only thing was that was not was his dress, which held more in common with the man at his side, who was looking about for someone to speak with.

[Ekaterina]

She stood in vigilance to the situation that unfolded before her. Due to this, she'd not miss the action of staff, and then a flourish of activity upon the ship ported in the harbor with guns pointing towards the shoreline. A motion had her attention drawn to the flag and then its replacement, which gave cause to quirk a brow slightly.

After this point, her attention was back upon the men who recently made port and now stood upon the decks. The man of position was being closely examined from the distance of all that was viewable to the naked eye. She took in not only possessions and clothing, but the way he stood, features, movement of hands, and the air he carried about him.

There was no trust in these men, and a bit of surprise when the one stepped forth to bellow towards the lingering crowd and those who peeked around various objects and buildings when nothing seemed to happen.

She didn't recognize the man, but then she didn't know every family that hailed from Kiel either; it wasn't like she was some social butterfly. But it was enough to prompt her to step forward none the less, and in so doing several of her men followed at a short distance behind. Once she reached the man who spoke, and the one whom stood by his side she would pause in motion several feet away.

"In light of how your ship entered the harbor and took a placement of possible attack, surely you don't expect a huge fanfare of welcome."

Her tone was even and cool, the level of voice to be just loud enough so that both men could hear her words. "Raising a flag of peace in wake of such an action seems almost moot. It will not remove the fear already set, nor any trust from anyone one here that your intent is not one of malice or destruction."

A glance towards the ship, to those who were near enough to hear the conversation, then back to the men. "So, I would suggest you to either state your intent clearly now and have your ship reposition, or I can not be held responsible for any possible retaliative actions against you. We're a land in which war looms over our heads, and thus until proving otherwise all are viewed as intended foes."

Her stance was nonthreatening, and even though her words held the undertone of a threat, no malice or condensation would be noted in her voice. Icy shards of crystalline blue were fixed upon both men. Just a flicker of movement that would be considered improper would force her hand and that of her men behind her.