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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Sarinah Lissden
Posts: 139
Joined: Thu Mar 29, 2018 3:42 am
Topics: 19
Race: Wick
Location: Old Rose Harbor
: Passively invested
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Raksha
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Contact:

Tue May 08, 2018 6:00 pm

Roalis 10th, 2713
THE DOCKS | MID AFTERNOON
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”Y’ent gettin’ m’up there y’mung tsat!” Sarinah said angrily, pointing at the hoop spinning slowly from its place on the ceiling of the Queen’s tavern. Mistress Wren raised an eyebrow at the girl and shrugged.

“It’s either that, or you can get out the back. On your back. Ain’t no middle ground girl.” The older woman said gruffly, before drawing out her little packet of prerolled cigarettes and popping one between her lips. Lighting the stick, she blew smoke forcefully, before gesturing at the hoop again.

“So what’s it gonna be girl? In the air or on your back? Because I got shit I nee—“

“Th’air. Th’air Bridgette. Ent lettin’ some laoso spitch touch me.” Sarinah chewed her lip and looked up at the slowly turning device nervously.

“Jus’ent benny wit’heights, ye chen?” Bridgette chuckled, patting the girl on the shoulder and moving to take her towards the stage. The tavern was empty, save for Robin cleaning glasses at the bar and one really old, really drunk pirate stone cold unconscious in a corner booth.

“We’ll start you off near the ground love. You’ve got to learn to stay on before you take flight. I’ll tell you now. You’ll fall. A lot. And you’ll hurt. But better this than that.”


“Son-of-a-vrunta-kensers-erse!” Sarinah swore loudly, sitting up from where she’d fallen on the hardwood and rubbing her quickly bruising arm. The older tumble chuckled, working the rope to quickly lower the metal frame so the young brunette could reach it again.

“I told you it’d hurt.” She said with a grin, blue eyes laughing even if her own chuckle had stopped. The teenage wick sighed heavily, pushing strands of black hair out of her face.

“I’ll b’need a break. Jus’ f’a pina manna? Oes?” Bridgette nodded, waving her hand at the girl. Sarinah groaned with relief, moving to jump off the stage and head for the stairs leading up and out of the Queen. It was a bright sunny day, the deck almost unbearable to look at as the rays bounced off into her eyes. Shielding herself from the glare, Sarinah walked down the gang plank and began to stroll towards the docks. She couldn’t go far, and even if she did they’d come and collect her anyway.

Reaching the docks, she moved, feet taking her slightly off course till she was standing on the sandy beachfront. Staring down at the sand between her bare toes, the witch sighed heavily, hands on hips and eyes closed. If she stood still enough, if she ignored the catcalls of dockhands, she could almost believe she was standing at the edge of the Arova.

Almost.

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Kestrel
Posts: 24
Joined: Thu May 03, 2018 10:09 pm
Topics: 3
Race: Wick
: smoke and wings
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
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Sat May 12, 2018 12:51 pm

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She rolled the coin between her fingers, fingering the ridges and stamps along the surface. Yellow eyes were fixated on the sea and the roar of the waves as it crashed onto the shoreline. I will come home one day, mama, papa. Long fingers squeezed the coin in her palm until it left an indent on her flesh and she glanced back at the docked ship that had been her prison for a year.

No one could claim that Kestrel hadn't tried everything she could to escape her contract that kept her bound to this place. She tried bribes with what meager things she had filched from patrons and clients, she had tried to find loopholes, bargains, begging. But nothing changed the minds of her captors. Kestrel was an investment after all. An investment, and a fighter. Where other girls at the Mad Queen might have resigned themselves to their fate as whores and concubines, Kestrel wasn't going to meet her end on her back. The witch prayed to Aerra every night, counting the days off in a worn notebook she kept in a small bedside table. The Mistress knew her to be rough around the edges, rebellious and eager to break any rules she set, but she had never tried to escape. Not until today.

Gulls flew overhead with their chorus of cries and the wind picked up enough to send her cascade of dark hair flying around her face. Thoughts and plans whirled in her mind. She'd asked for a break from the dim, creaking interior of the Mad Queen, so she could soak in the sun and breathe in the sea salt air, she claimed. But in truth, she wanted to see where the guards were stationed. Where the deckhands moved about as they worked. Men were hoisting wooden crates between them, large enough to block some portions of the Mad Queen from view. Her gaze wandered as she walked, turning every avenue of escape in her head.

And in the wick's distraction, she slammed right into another body with a loud oof!. Kestrel staggered, her eyes darting up, mouth open and ready to unleash a torrent of curse words, until she realized who it was.

"Oi, it's just you," Kestrel shook her head at the other wick girl, shoving a flyaway strand of umber behind one ear. Despite some years spent separated from her home, her accent still bled of Muluku Isles. "You needed a tan too?" The witch knew of Sarinah, at least, she'd watched her time and again as she practiced on the stage, and even managed to slip in a show or two. It reminded her of her time among the performers at her parent's encampment. Dancers and acrobats and magicians. She'd been one, once.

Once. The momentary smile on her lips faded.

The thought of telling Sarinah her plan came into her mind, but Kestrel had no way of knowing how the girl would react, or even if she would tell the Bad Brothers or Mistress Wren of what she was going to do. Kestrel eyed the Mad Queen, moored and still like an ever present warden looming above them. "Do you... happen to know the schedules of the guards?" She asked quietly.

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Sarinah Lissden
Posts: 139
Joined: Thu Mar 29, 2018 3:42 am
Topics: 19
Race: Wick
Location: Old Rose Harbor
: Passively invested
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: [url=http:/fullurl/]Plot Notes[/url]
Writer: Raksha
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Fri May 25, 2018 6:45 pm

Roalis 10th, 2713
THE DOCKS | MID AFTERNOON
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If I could just find a way onto one of the boats, maybe I could head to Mugroba, then I could hitch a ride back around to—

Sarinah, for all her longing and wistful stares out at the perfect blue waters of the Austan Ocean, the woman was in fact concocting an escape plan. Of course, the details were sketchy, given every ship in the harbour had the King’s eyes on it. Her musings however, came to an abrupt end as someone slammed right into her. She stumbled, catching herself and turning with fists clenched, ready to fight or flee.

“Jus’ me? Ent—oh Kestrel. Hesta chip.” The mahogany eyed teen said as she regained her balance, relaxing her hands and shifting so both the young witches could stand together on the coastline of the Rose. She knew the girl, a little younger than herself and a definite runner. Bridgette had mentioned in passing that the younger wick was ‘harder to break’ than most.

The term made her skin crawl.

The brunette chuckled without humour at Kestrels words, holding her arms across her body and rubbing them against the slight chill of the sea breeze. The sun, for what it was worth, did give off a good heat when you stood in the full rays.

“Oes, a tan. Tha’ s’it beata.” She said with a small smile, before it faded away much like the Muluku bred girl. Joking didn’t make their situation any better, they were both still prisoners of Scarlett Jezebel, still property of Silas Hawke.

Property. Like cattle.

Her own eyes drifted back to the Queen, looming as though intending to bear down on the two women, frozen forever in dry-dock. As Kestrel spoke again, the teenager looked back to her with a thoughtful pause, chewing her cheek as she considered her reply carefully.

Running Dove, it ain’t worth it. I promise. Mistress Wren’s words echoed in her mind, warning her even avoid considering it. But what if…what if two of them ran. Together. Did they stand a better chance?

“Wha’f I did?” Sarinah asked casually, tucking black strands of hair away from her face and toeing the sand.

“Wha’f I knew that Wesley takes his yats in th’Black Dove an’ disappears ‘nto Scarlett’s quarters till eleven r’so, r’that Dom always comes in ‘round th’ninth hour, from th’Anglers Alley way after he’s blown all his ging? Wha’f I knew that there’s a Brother on each o’these boats at any one time, an’ that they do spot checks of th’crews every time a ship goes t’sail?” She shrugged, looking back at the water, heart hammering in her chest.

“Wha’f I said I did. Did y’have somethin’ n’mind rosh?” Looking down, she noticed the coin in the girls hand and laughed a little, as though the sight was woefully amusing.

“Y’think yer gonna pay y’way out? Good luck chip. Ent none o’th’Brothers’ll take yer ging, ye chen? They’re scared of Hawke. Would rather be broke than dead.”

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