[Libertalia] Libertalia Docks

As Desdemona stepped on the docks, first since the three-months long hunt, she trusted her crew, the Floating Circus as the commoners and others of her profesiones called them, to start delivering the organs and other various harvests from the many beasts of the depths they have slammed over the course of their long lasting sail. She inhaled the salty breeze and tapped her boot twice upon the dock, thereafter calling to her crew, “ Alright boys! Finish up and come to the Brewhaus, will ya? Time for a mighty fuck up!”, her voice bludgeoned the ears of people unadapted to hearing it, the crew had it drilled in their memory for years. Tapping her way towards the Main Street, she briefly stopped near the statue of Francis O’Malley, “Ye old skinny fuck. Had to rot away, didn’t ya? Left a good legacy, give you that. Joanne is decent.”, she whispered to herself turning and giving the whole dock a look around. Business came and went, ships floated about. She shook her head in mysterious nostalgia of the days when she roamed the seas as a gal with a blade, now she is a captain of the Crimson Maggie. Desdemona spat out the churning thoughts of the past, and moved toward the bright future of the drunken mess at the Brewhaus.

The docks have quieted as the sun went down, most crews now in town spending their hard earned money, or guarding their own ships. The heavy crane operators, the teams of dwarf operators and troll locomotors, had long since quit for the day, the workshops had mostly all closed, and the warehouses were all locked up. Instead of the shouting, laughing, and cursing of sailors and traders alike, the air is instead filled with the trickle of water below the docks, the breaking of hulls, and the laughter coming from the city. It's actually rather peaceful once the day's trade had ended, at least in the city.

A good half hour passes as Desdemona sits at the end of the dock, no doubt still buzzed from Douglas' home brews, it usually only took one for a new sailor to hit that stage, but for a veteran like Des, it cook considerably more.

However her solitude comes to an end soon enough, heralded at first by the heavy footfalls along the masonwork at the other end of the dock, footfalls unmistakably belonging to the mysterious hulk of armour that is Iron Bill, the golem. But once it stops, a new set of boots can be heard walking towards her, with a certain confident elegance to the stride.

There's silence for a moment before the new figure speaks, one hand on her own pipe, and the other resting on the handle of her fancy cutlass. "Another perfect night in paradise," Captain O'Malley says before taking a long drag on her own pipe-weed. Her light green eyes stare out into the shimmering water ahead, and towards the bay's opening, perfectly framing the full moon. "Welcome back, Des."

Though two are accounted for, Johnnie's first mate, the elegant, beautiful, and deadly Alaris Fontaine stands half way up the dock, peering over the edge and into the water. The reason for her silence is clear, given the lack of shoes or any metalwork other than her golden hoop earrings that contrast nicely against her tanned skin. The Cat of the Sea Dragon.

"Douglas seems giddy about your newest haul. Hopefully this one won't have the visiting traders sitting over the side of the ships all night this time, eh?" Her accent is almost singsong as she speaks, a lot more clear and pleasant than most of the island's people's.

The captain nods at her counterpart, and Fontaine merely gives a small wave without taking her eyes away from the shimmering water. Quiet as always, that lady, but she has a reputation to uphold afterall.

Iron Bill’s glowing, empty gaze follows Desdemona as she approaches, and doesn’t seem to react to her tapping her pipe at him. He just lets out a low, bubbling, almost moaning sigh, followed by droplets of water falling from the cracks in his armour. Then a deep voice resonates from within. “Hi.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Captain Johnnie says as she takes a drag of her own pipe, before blowing out a billowing red cloud of smoke. A spicy variety, judging by the smell. “I like to think the creatures of the deep have gotten wise and recognise that they aren’t the kings or queens of the ocean anymore. The ocean is mine. Well, ours, I suppose.”

She blinks in slight confusion as Des throws a handful of leaves at her, which fall softly to the ground. ‘Did… did she just throw dried leaves at me?’ Johnnie thinks to herself, but she shrugs it off. “No… thank you,” she says. ‘Too long at sea, Des? She must be going mad.’

Johnnie was never one to care if someone stood or sat in her presence, she knew she had the respect of most of the island’s inhabitants, and didn’t need proof. She’s no insecure queen, she wouldn’t be able to respect herself if she was. “You’ve heard correctly,” she says, before taking another puff on her pipe. “We were able to get stable income when my father opened the port to independent traders, but I know we can do more,” she explains. “That means we’ve got to make our presence known. Trade, Des, trading with the other nations out there. We can make a fortune from official, government vessels, without risk.”

She leans against one of the dock’s support pillars jutting out from the wood. “That’s why we have the safe corridors. Its all been leading up to this.” She takes the end of her pipe out of her mouth and gestures it down the docks, from the original strips to the new additions being constructed on the other side. “My dream is for this to become a major trade port, think of all the money we’ll make.”

Finally, she shrugs. “Besides, trade partners means we won’t have to worry about the Isran or Tawakoshi navies coming along and making trouble for us. Security, money, and eventually power for our little paradise.”

"Do you really believe that opening our doors and port for diplomacy is going to solve all of our conflict? Or that it's going to make us comfortable?" Johnnie asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you do, then you aren't nearly as smart as I thought you were. As for your second point, nobody will attack a trade partner, that would be trade suicide. We're not doing this to be safe as houses, Dez, we're doing this for a sustainable income, one that lets us grow and become more than a rag tag bunch of ex-pirates."

She puffs out a long plume of red smoke again. "You're overthinking it," she concludes. "Seems you've spent too long at sea. You're not thinking about the bigger picture, how our paradise here can benefit others as much as ourselves. Who would attack a holiday destination where you spend money on local business? Or where you can make a fortune trading things banned in other ports? We're going to make it rich off of these empires, and they'll be happy to let us."

She leans against the ward support and smirks. "Besides. If someone thinks they can come and take my island, then we'll show them why we own these waters and why people fear the Libertalian flag."

Joanne lets out a small chuckle as she looks over her pipe. "Does that make sense now? Why we gotta start looking outside our borders? Or do you need a couple of days on land to regain your wits?" She looks up and nods towards the city. "C'mon, let's get your land legs back. Babette's, my treat."

"We aren't pirates anymore, Des," Fiona says as she walks. "That's the important thing. It's fun, but the world around us is growing, and with it the navies. The piracy money is drying up, fun or not, and we have to accept that. That's why we've been trading for forty years."

Johnnie seems unphased by Des' rambling rants, about how great piracy is and how her generation did things different. The captain is used to it, having grown up hearing another rant every other week.

"That's what's wrong with being pirates," she concludes. "There's more risk than reward now." Her green eyes flash over to her freak of a friend. "And Babette's is less of a shithole than your ship, Des. Its MY establishment, remember?"

Desdemona hops down from her ship upon seeing a figure in full plate armor approaching her ship. You could see all kinds of people in Libertalia, her own crew was made out of creatures that most haven’t even dreamt of, yet this seemed somewhat... unfitting. Noticing the glowing rune on their armor, Desdemona lowers her hand to gently hover over her rapier-like cutlass. She glances at the few portion of the crew still on Crimson Maggie, those that did not want to drink their night away, and makes a few steps towards the figure. She stops near the opening of the docks, and leans on one of the wet beams, waiting to see if this figure is passing by or intently walking towards her.

The journey had been so long that the anticipation was making her sick! With every wave, Ti'el felt her stomach doing little flips. Even as the tall green shadows stared at her from the shore, the shallow waters and the golden sands that rose up toward the dock ahead took her attention. As they came close enough to the pier, the vulx tossed herself over almost before the sailors had the time to shove out the shore plank, feet scrambling to take hold and dig their claws into the wood.

Once she was on, she rolled over onto her back and waited, not just for Cealene, but for the world to stop moving around her.

At the edges of her vision, she could see the green and brown giants staring down at her, swaying from side to side. Or was it her head swaying from side to side? She couldn't quite tell.

Weakly, she raised a hand to point to those giants, brows pinching together with a million questions, the first of which being "What... are those?"

Ah, another perfect day in paradise. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the waves are as blue as sapphire. What more could anyone want?

Apparently dry land.

Down one of the many docks strides an Av, tall and athletic, with light blue skin, dark hair, and his horns swept right back, denoting his ocean traveller heritage. He sports a fancy little moustache and a small beard that ends in two points, tipped with beads of various colours.

He wears a loose white shirt and a pair of dark green pants, but chooses to go barefoot, revealing the strange build of his kind's feet, but he doesn't seem to care. Perhaps most notable is a patch on his shoulder, sporting the insignia of a certain crew. Looks to be important.

"Ha!" He laughs as he finds the Vulpine laying splayed out on the dock. "Not used to the open seas, eh land lubber? I've always wanted to call someone that."

He puts his hands on his side's and smiles a mischievous smile. "If it wasn't obvious enough, I'd say the pair of yous are new around here. Welcome to Libertalia, ladies! Land of the free, a true paradise on the waves!"

He turns and gestures to the island around them before looking back down at the Vulpine. "You'll find your sea legs soon enough, lass. Dont worry your pretty little head."

Cealene gave Ti'el a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder snd then let her eyes inspect the blue thing that was speaking to her, going from the strange feet, taking note of the patch and finally coming to a rest on his horned and mustached head.

"Well, good man, since you've so deftly surmised us to be newcomers, would you care to point us towards a tavern. I think my friend is in need of some rest. Maybe we could speak more of this fair land over something to drink?"