Mercenary Days, Open

[Thelos Arundel]

He disloved Tortuga. It was a place for brazen women and drunkards. A place where Mithos knew what went on in the rooms above the tavern. But if he hated it so much, why did he return there? Oh, it was easy. Tortuga was the only place where he was consistently hired out for jobs. The people knew Thelos fairly well there. The whores had gotten to know better than to proposition the handsome redheaded mercenary as he made his way through the streets.

Most of the men knew better than to pick fights with him, too. He once publicly sliced a man's ear off with nothing but a flick of his blade. The man, still alive, was standing in a group far away from Thelos. People didn't bother him. He stood up against the wall of the tavern, a glass of red wine in his hand. He couldn't taste the wine and the alcohol didn't do much for him, but he knew the benefits. He could still feel the liquid burn as it went down his throat. It was one of the things that helped him know he was still alive.

His red hair obscured his eyes, a strange dark red hue. He didn't need to see them to know what people were doing. The noise was loud, but he was ignoring it the best he could. He wondered who would come up to him tonight...

[Cordelia McDorian]

<sub>Cordelia -- hereafter referred to as Dylan -- stpped off the gangplank to the Pearl, flinging her hair off her shoulders with the flick of her head. She wore a deep brown vest over top a flowing white tunic-shirt that hung loosely about her form. Its sleeves flared out at her shoulders, and narrowed to hug her dainty wrists, one trait from her noble blood. The vest hugged her torso, and was left open. The tunic-shirt was tucked into her pantaloons, which hugged her long, shapely legs and matched the color of her vest. The pants legs disappeared into the tops of a pair of black leather boots that hugged her claves. They were held up by a black sash tied around her waist, her pistol and dagger concaled within the sash.

Her hair fell in long waves to the small of her back, swaying around her waist. Her hands were covered in black leather gloves, and there was a black bandana wrapped about her head. The night a few days ago on the Pearl had been too much; too taxing for her. What she'd said to Jack.. it was out of line. She shouldn't have said anything. In fact, she shouldn't have even left her bunk. Anger at herself caused her to leave the ship this morning; they'd pulled in lat last night, and most of the crew had slept onboard. She had, of course; and had done a fine job in avoiding Jack the past few days.

Of course, she knew that soon enough, her evasiveness wouldn't be enough. Making her way down to the tavern in Tortuga, Dylan decided she'd rather get a drink and a hot meal in the pub than eat bread and jerky from the Pearl's stores. Her legs carried her down the street, where she passed by common prostitutes, eager to sell their services. Dylan threw them a disgusted look; it was early in the morning, for Jones' sake! But that was thier profession, and she supposed she had no say it; actually, she knew she had no say. But she didn't know thir lives, and so she didn't interfer.

She made her way inside the tavern and over to the bar, ordering her usual drink of rum with a hearty breakfast. The bartender nodded and motioned for her to take a seat at one of the emtpy booths. Nodding and placing a few gold coins on the counter, she turned and made her way into the sea of drunken pirates. Even though it was early morning, Tortuga was still bursting with nightlife. Dylan spied a table in the back of the tavern, and made her way toward it. As she passed a roudy table, a hand reached out and swatted her bum. Rage coursed through her, and within an instant, her pistol was pulled and pointed straight at the man she thought was the culpret.

But then she gave pause. The pirates to her left were sniggering, and the man before her didn't looked frightened at all. His eyes were a dark red shade, and his hair was a deep orange. Dylan couldn't pin it, but she felt something different from this man. Her momentary lapse in concentration gave the pirates to her left ample oppertunity to grab at her again, but this time her target was made clear. Turning her pistol toward the roudy and sniggering pirates, Dylan cocked the trigger. The noise made the pirates smiles disappear, and they frowned, holding up their hands. "Touch me again, an' I'll shoot yeh between yer eyes. I'm no common whore."

They grumbled, then moved away from her, and Dylan pressed hr pistol back into her sash. Turning back to the man with red eyes, Dylan felt herself mezmorized. "I.. Sorry," she said quickly, shifting uncomfortablly beneath this man's gaze.</sub>

[Thelos Arundel]

He didn't really see most of the nighttime scene, he was about wandering at that time. He loved the night because of its quietude. He also felt a special connection with the stars. The moon, Diana, often kept him company on nights like that one. However, he had watched the beginning of the sunrise with a certain nostalgia. Inside his mind, he wondered just how long it had been since he had slept. At least four thousand years, probably more. Yes, that sounded about right. He turned his wine glass around, letting the wine settle. He could feel the burning sensation in his nose, though he couldn't smell it at all.

He lifted his eyes for a moment to watch as a girl began to whip around and suddenly point a pistol in his face. She was met only with silence and a calm stare, though a hint of annoyance was in his eyes. His hand hadn't moved to his blade yet, though, so he obviously wasn't too worried about being confronted with a barrel at his nose.

She addressed the men before tucking the pistol back in her sash. She then turned back to him and apologised. For a while he just stood there, watching her, saying nothing. He swallowed a little before glancing away. A few strands of his crimson hair moved slightly, just enough for her to be able to clearly see the exact shade of red his eyes were. He was watching her out of the corner of his eye as he looked through the window towards the moon.

He was wearing some strange looking clothes. They almost looked like the clericals that priests wore a long time ago, only they weren't old looking. His clothes consisted of pants and a tunic as well as a hooded cloak. All of which were this deep shade of navy with purple mixed in. The hems were a light lilac color. His arms had bracers on it, and on one of the bracers that went down to his hand there was a red gem, right on the top of his hand.

He finally turned his eyes back to her, not saying anything. He took a sip of his wine and swallowed it. As a wine bottle flew towards his area about to hit the wall, he reached up and grabbed it before it hit. Without looking at it, he held it out to her. "Don't do anything you might regret." were his only words. His voice had a deep, soothing sound and cadence to it.

[Cordelia McDorian]

Dylan watched him as he shifted his gaze from her, and her eyes narrowed with curiousity. He seemed to show no emotion, and that put her on edge. How was it that someone could be like that? Perhaps it was just how she first precieved him. Ah well; she would probably never run into him again. She turned away, intending to continue on her way to the table, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bottle come flying in their direction. Dylan made to duck, and lifted her hands to shield her head, but there was a soft thud, and then nothing. No shattering of glass, no crash as the bottle hit the wall.

"Don't do anything you might regret."

She looked up, her eyes wide. Slowly, she lowered her hands, and Dylan glanced at the bottle he held up to her. A few seconds passed before she reached up, her hand closing around the neck of the bottle and taking it from him. She held it against her body, still looking at him, curiousity all over her face. "And just what do you mean by that?" She asked, momentarily forgetting to add her pirate accent.

Usually, her noble side stayed hidden. The only person she'd allowed to see that side was Jack; and well.. Things weren't exactly perfect with Jack, now were they? She turned her gaze from the man and limply found herself falling into the seat directly behind her. There was something odd about the man who had saved her from being covered in wine.. Slowly, Dylan lifted the bottle and set it on the table, still unopened.

[ teh sucks u.u ]

[Thelos Arundel]

Emotionless and cold was the way he wandered through life. Feeling no warmth or no cold. He tasted nothing. He hungered for nothing. He never slept. To feeling he was about as dead as they come. That was the price of his godhood. He wanted to become a full blood, and he had gained it. He had been swindled out of that which made godhood what it was, however. And he intended to get it back. He had regained his voice after many years, but he was still quiet.

"And just what do you mean by that?"

He looked at her, watching as she placed the unopened wine bottle on the table. He slowly reached out and took it, setting his glass on the table as he pulled the cork out of the bottle like it was nothing. As if on cue, a wine glass fresh from the tender flew towards them and he reached up and caught it. Inspecting it, he set it down on the table and filled it with the red wine before pushing it towards her. He then refilled his own glass and took it, setting the bottle down on the table, pushing the cork back inside.

She now sat in the chair in front of him, staring. He had resumed his leaning up against the wall, sipping at the wine. He could smell the wine, sort of. It was the burning, tingling sensation that he smelled. Otherwise, there was nothing. He took a few more sips. That tingling was his only pulse besides his heart, and he had long forgotten that slow and steady beat.

"One must not be so reckless. What if it had not been me that you mistakenly pointed your gun at? You would not have had enough time to fire the gun before your hand was cut off. " he said. His voice was cold, but deep and soothing at the same time. He stared at her with his red eyes, taking another sip of his wine. Most of the fighting took place as far away from the man as possible.

[Cordelia McDorian]

"One must not be so reckless. What if it had not been me that you mistakenly pointed your gun at? You would not have had enough time to fire the gun before your hand was cut off. "

Dylan took the glass he passed her and took a small sip, then set it down on the table beside her. A frown creased her beautiful face, and anger flared up in her. "I wasn't being reckless," she said defensively. "I wouldn't have shot; it's merely to ward them off. A warning, you'd say." She took another sip of her wine, but didn't lower the glass. The liquid slid down her throat, but Dylan barely tasted it. The last few days washed over her, and she thought about how reckless her behavior had been.

Telling Jack she cared for him beyond friendship was reckless.

Going out at night for a walk was reckless.

But falling into the sea and being taken by a nymph to Poseidon wasn't within her contorl. True, if she hadn't wandered out that night, she'd never had fallen overboard. And then she wouldn't be in the position she was.. But nothing could stop her now. She couldn't change the hand fate had delt her. Distracting herself from her thoughts, Dylan set the glass down and looked back up at her drinking mate.

He looked as though he didn't want anyone to come near him; and perhaps that's how he was. Perhaps he was that kind of person. She didn't know; she'd only met the man spare moments ago. He confused her, and Dylan sensed the mystery surrounding him. What was it about this man that seemed so familiar, yet so foreign to her? She'd felt this way around Poseidon.. but that was because he had intimidated her; she'd been scared out of her mind when she'd met him.

And most smart people would.

[Thelos Arundel]

His eyebrow twitched. He wasn't amused. She was missing the whole point of the advice he had just given her. He swallowed and ran a hand through his red hair. The jewel that was centered in the center of the back of his hand glimmered in the Tavern lights. He took another sip of his wine.

"Most pirates do not believe in warnings. " he said, looking to her. " Had you pointed your gun at any other swordsman in here and hesitated to fire as you did, your hand would be on the floor still clutching that pretty little weapon of yours." he said.

It was true. When a gun was pointed at them, most men would take the few seconds to try and kill the person before the shot came. He knew of a few incidences like that that had happened to Royal Navymen that wandered in. They pointed their gun with only the half intention of shooting only to find their hand cut off or a blade in thei chest. Packing iron also meant you forfeited swordsman morals and lived by the law of the bullet. Which was basically fire first or be dead.

"Don't be so foolish as to throw your life away with something so pitiful as that. "

His eyes that now gazed at her were stern and cold, a true warning. It was as if he knew the meaning of those words all too well. It didn't look like he would be divulging his story anytime soon, either. He took another sip of his wine and leant back against the wall, a few strands of his red hair falling into his face, obscuring the red eyes. He was a strnage and mysterious man, very wise from years of living... Though he looked no older than twenty four.

[Cordelia McDorian]

"Most pirates do not believe in warnings. " ... " Had you pointed your gun at any other swordsman in here and hesitated to fire as you did, your hand would be on the floor still clutching that pretty little weapon of yours."

His point hit her loud and clear; she understood. He needn't explain any further. But his advice to her angered her. Dylan was not a common child; she wasn't a common prostitute, and nor was she to be treated that way. "And what am I supposed to do? Let them touch me in such a manner?" She tried to keep the defensive anger from her voice, for something about his manner told her that this man was not one to anger. But nonetheless, she scoffed at the thought of those vile men touching her. "I may be a lady pirate, but I'm no common whore. I do not warm the beds of many men, nor will I ever." Her were true, but somewhere inside her, she recalled what she'd thought of that night with Jack.

But no; she'd never stoop that low. Not for Jack; not for anyone. She would become no man's harlot. But now that she was going to join Poseidon beneath the waves.. Or at least, she was considering it. But if she went, her life as a pirate would end. Her riches would disappear, as would her past. But none of that mattered. What was she really leaving behind by taking Poseidon's offer, she asked herself. Nothing.

She had no family left; she had no ties to any man. She hada few friends, but they would not miss her horribly. Perhaps she could find peace below the surface of the seas with Poseidon as one of his nypmhs.. She wouldn't run into Jack, and that would surely help her forget him. That alone made the offer truly tempting.

"Don't be so foolish as to throw your life away with something so pitiful as that."

She frowned at him, taking another sip of her wine and setting the cup down as his words pulled her from her thoughts. "You walk around with men grabbing your ass or your breasts all the time, then," Dylan shot back, her hold on her anger slipping. Who was this manto tell her how to act? She would act the way she had learned to in order to survive. It wasn't like she could avoid what was happening to her; piracy was -- had been -- a huge part of her life; returning to her noble upbringing was not an option.

And besides.. with nothing to hold her here, Poseidon's offer wouldn't take much to accept.

[Thelos Arundel]

As the woman in front of him spoke, she began to get more and more worked up. The first sign of emotion in a long time creeped slowly onto one edge of his lips, curling up ever so slightly. It was a smirk. Oddly enough, it seemed to fit him more than any other expression. With his eyes still partially covered by his hair, he looked back up to her.

"I may be a lady pirate, but I'm no common whore. I do not warm the beds of many men, nor will I ever."

"I never said you were." He offered, his voice devoid of emotion. It was true. It was she who projected the idea that he thought she might have been a common whore into his stature. He hadn't said anything about how open or closed her thighs were. The subject of sex hadn't even been brought up. Nor had the issue of her being a lady pirate. She had just made another mistake, letting her emotions get a hold of her and revealing her innermost insecurities. He hmphed, a tinge of amusement in his throat as he took another sip of his wine.

"You walk around with men grabbing your ass or your breasts all the time, then..."

He simply looked up at her, but said nothing. He took another sip of his wine, letting the cool, burning liquid slide down his throat. He let out a breath of air and looked around the tavern. People were still fighting, some making out in the corners, harlots walking around with no tops on. Just the usual. his upper lip twitched faintly in disgust before turning back to her.

He pondered telling her that her words were of no value to the conversation they were having, but he decided not to, as it would only upset the creature even more. He already knew that she would because of what she had said and how she had reacted. Another sip of his wine. He said nothing, as his argument stood alone in those five words.

[Cordelia McDorian]

"I never said you were."

Perhaps it was how he said it; perhaps it was what he said. Or perhaps it was just that she was so lost in her thoughts and her worries that it angered her that he was right. Dylan meant to turn away from him; she didn't need to take this. She was upset, and she knew that. Truthfully, she was almost eager to return to the seas.. to Poseidon.. to Edward, who would welcome her with open arms. But there was still a small amount of time to go before she made her dive into the sea. One that would be her last.. Dylan wondred briefly if she could do it; but she knew she could. But when would be the best time?.. She brushed off the thought for now, meaning to save it for later times.

Silently, Dylan let her anger stew while she sipped her wine. When she glanced up, however, she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be.. a smile? No; her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. But there it was, plain as could be; the ghost of a smile. Or was it a smirk? At this point, Dylan didn't really care. It was the first sign of emotion that she'd seen from this man. Well, perhaps not emotion, but it was something to show that his face held more than that single expression.

Looking up, Dylan straightened her posture in her chair, acting, not like the pirate she was, but like the noble woman she had been. Her anger had simmered, and was slowly ebbing away; she didn't need to let her anger get ahold of her. "My appoligies.." she murmered, truly meaning it. "I'm sorry I accused you of such a thing." Nothing about her manner spoke of the pirate she claimed to be; her dress and the weapons she carried were the only showings of her pirate state. Perhaps it was because she was to return to Poseidon eventually that she gave up on forcing her pirate accent and way of speaking; but Dylan knew she'd been slipping lately.

Ah well; she hadn't been on the Pearl long enough to let any of the crew see her slip anyway. She avoided it when they were in port, and rarely spoke when on board. Her trips out at night were frequent, and often she was alone. But that didn't matter. She spent her nights watching the sea around them, watching the waves that would soon be her home. A sigh left her lips at this, and she lowered her head. What use was there in remaining here? Poseidon and Edward were right; humans were too violant and greedy for their own good.

[Thelos Arundel]

He watched her as she sipped her wine and watched as her angered stewed. He smirked again, but it soon faded. He was watching a group of people in the opposite end of the tavern conversing in low tones. He glared at them but they didn't notice. He looked back to Dylan, who had lowered her head. She seemed a bit worried about something, concerned at least. He looked to her as she sat there, wine glass still in hand.

"Do not leave this tavern without me." He said, sternly.

He glanced to the men in the back, his eyes showing signs of detestment. The men were whispering of a plan to take her, for they recognised her as one of Jack's. They assumed that she was his wench and figured Jack would pay a pretty penny to have her back, and that while they had her they might as well have their way with her. They continued musing over the plan, Kratos watching them, hearing their every word, though they were whispering on the opposite end of a boistrous tavern.

Eventually he didn't seem to be able to take it much anymore. He swallowed the rest of his wine and broke the glass against the wall before stalking his way over to the men. He pulled his sword out with a metallic shing sound and stabbed one of the men in the neck with the broken glass handle of the wine glass. The tavern suddenly became quiet just in time to hear his cry of pain.

"Do you think I cannot hear you?! " he said, pulling the piece of glass from the man's neck. Blood poured down his neck and he gripped his wound, backing away. His cronies had been standing in utter shock, but they then jumped at him, one pulling out a gun. In three blinding movements two of them could no longer contain their entrails as they poured out onto the floor, while the other had lost his hand, the gun tumbling to the floor.

He turned back to the first man he had attacked, who had brandished a gun. He was holding his neck with one hand, the other shakily holding the gun. Kratos glared at the man, spotting the fear in his eyes. "You hesitate. It will cost you dearly." He said. With another slash the man was relieved of much of his throat as well as the upper section of his arm. "You don't deserve to live." he said. He then turned. The tavern was completely silent, the floors on that side now soaking with blood. He grabbed the hat off of one of the men and used it to wipe the blood from his blade before putting it back in its scabbard.

He then walked back to the other side and gestured for her to come with him. No one in the tavern moved, the rest of them knew that he would not hesitate to kill them all -- they knew his skill. those that didn't saw what happened to those men.

[Poseidon]

Edward stumbled around Tortuga in vain. He didn't look the part of a pirate, much too small, too feminine. He sighed desperately, annoyed and scared. He didn't like the surface, and he liked it even less when it came to chasing people around. He'd only had to do it a few times previously, but all of them ended badly. Tears welled in his eyes, and he had to take a few breaths to keep from going into a full-fledged panic attack. Unconsciously he was dodging most of the attacks that were unconsciously aimed at him. He grabbed ahold on his short sword and walked into a tavern, he'd been stumbling around quite a few of them trying to find her.

"Dylan!" he half-shouted, walking over to her and frowning when he felt blood touch his feet. He cringed, not liking the stuff on him, and looked over at the other man. He felt cold seep through his body, and he looked down at the girl that he was supposed to be looking after, true hurt in his eyes. Why was she with this man? He was a deserter, an ex-river nymph. He could feel it, with his new powers. Hesitantly, he took in a gulp of air and choked out Dylan's name again, before standing against a wall and attempting to figure out what was going on.

[Cordelia McDorian]

"Do not leave this tavern without me."

Dylan looked up as he ground out those words, slightly taken aback. When she opened her mouth to question him, she found that he had already left her side and had stalked over toward a group of men on the other side of the tavern. Curiousity swept through her, and she stood from her chair. She wanted to call out his name, but then realized that she didn't know it. Therefore, she remained silent, standing where she was inthe tavern, watching him.

Horror replaced her curiousity when the man she'd been with downed his glass of wine, smashed it and shoved the shards against one of the trio's throats. Blood spurted from his wound, and Dylan made to move forward, but the words that tore from her companion's throat stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Do you think I cannot hear you?!" ... "You hesitate. It will cost you dearly." ... "You don't deserve to live."

The whole tavern came to a pause, turning and looking at the confrontations that were blooming up between the four men over at the end of the tavern. Dylan watched the fight, her mouth slightly open. When her companion returned toher side, she was neary speechless with shock. He motioned for her to follow him, but she wanted her questions answered. However, she'd merely opened her mouth before she heard her name.

"Dylan!"

"Edward!" she said as the nymph hurried to her. He looked distressed, and she instantly regretted leaving him aboard the ship. Although they didn't need sleep any longer, she had convinced Edward that he needed to bunk down and feign sleep so that others would not become suspicious. When he moved against the wall, Dylan was instantly at his side. "Let's get you outside," she murmered, pulling him along. Turning back to the other man, she yelled, "You; follow."

[Thelos Arundel]

The look on his face when he turned to her was completely devoid of all emotion. As someone called out to her, he turned and saw a rather effeminate looking young man stumble over and she instantly ran to his side. He looked at her oddly before glaring at the rest of the people. What the girl yelled caused the entire tavern to wince and freeze.

"You; follow."

Had she not seen what he had done to those four men? How dare she! Did she want to die? The people stared in silence waiting to see what the swordsman was going to do. He gave the people of the tavern no look back and simply took a calming breath in and stepped down the porch steps of the tavern.

As soon as he was outside, he looked up to the sun beginning to rise. The stars were still quite visible and he cast his red eyes towards them. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword as it rested in his scabbard. How could he expect her to act any differently, even though he had just saved her? She was a human. He was used to being underappreciated. That, or feared more than anything.

It was an incredibly lonely life he led.

He folded his arms and stood there, a few yards outside the tavern on the grass. He waited for them. Several moments later, the tavern erupted with noise again, as if the bloodbath had never happened.

[Poseidon]

Edward looked as though he was going to comment, but merely allowed Dylan to lead him out anyway. That man probably thought that Dylan hadn't heard those others, that she was so easily killed, so easily captured. Poseidon could hear them from all the way down in his castle, he wouldn't have let such a new follower be taken. He sulked in his own little bubble, clinging to Dylan's side and attempting to look as invisible as possible. The surface was such a cruel place, the gods were much crueler to, as was evident by this man. Humans were crude, nymphs were cruder and everything else was just vile.

One of his hands unconsciously swept up to chase the hair off his face, as he unconsciously placed one hand on his sword. He didn't quite trust anyone in this place, and this precious blade that was granted to him from his Master was enchanted to cut through almost anything that would come against him. What he was unwilling to admit, although, that what he was afraid of wasn't one of them attacking him, it was this other god. He was unstable, obviously a created god, which means bitter. He'd never felt this power, or his energy before, which probably meant that he didn't know him, considering that he used to tail along with Poseidon up to Mount Olympus when his sister was alive.