forum weathervane tyrant // oxo // closed

Started December 20, 2022 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

(alskdf no worries)

Gidror emerges back on deck, picking up a dealt hand of cards from their makeshift barrel table. Esteban mewls patiently as he rearranges his fan of cards. Ivanca, per usual, says nothing as she fixes Gidror with her piercing stare.

With a sigh, Gidror places his bet and the three of them begin their usual afternoon game of cards. While he shuffles and passes and lays down straights and full houses, he can't focus. The game has become second-nature, something measly for his hands to do. His mind meanders. Of course, Gidror is a man who would lay down his life for the cause. Everyone has their own motives and agenda. That's the only reason why the Captain would even bother picking up someone like him. Despite having his own close-held goal, Gidror holds an unwavering loyalty to Svierk Greyy. One that the crew all feels.

Something about that woman saved Gidror's life. Perhaps it was the fact that she literally scooped him away from a dead-end village full of snob-nosed humans and fae. She lit a fire beneath his ass and said that he needed somewhere to go in life otherwise he'd be nothing but a nuisance and a burdan. She was blunt, tough, and utterly relentless, but it was exactly what Gidror needed to pull himself up. To become an actual man instead of a wandering, blubbering child. And for that, he owes everything to Captain Greyy.

"I win!" Esteban chimes merrily, sweeping all of the won coins into his manicured paw. "Not that it was much of a challenge; neither of you were truly into the game." He huffs and straightens his whiskers. "I think I'll take my winnings and I'll go, clearly your hearts aren't in it." He sniffs and stands, bouncing away with his coins jingling merrily.

The rest of the afternoon passes without any sort of note, most of the crew members forgetting entirely about the newcomer slaving away below deck. Svierk rotates from her favorite perch in the crow's nest to her cabin to the cartography room, which is really just a glorified billiards room where they tacked a single, painfully simple map to the wall.

When dinner rolls around, Svierk and Billi take to the kitchen, having it be their turn to make the meal. The crew is at least somewhat thankful that the two of them know their way around a stove. They'll be eating edible food tonight.

It's Mazirax who's sent to retrieve Finn, that is, if they finished their task. If not, well, they'll be forced to sleep in the storage room. Shaking his head, Mazirax remembers his first days on the ship. It had been Svierk, Esteban, and… and a few others. A few others that Mazirax would rather keep far, far from his mind.

The dragonborn halts at the doorway, unclicking the lock and knocking twice before sliding it open. "Excuse me–oh dear–" The calling to dinner is cut short as Maz takes in the spotless interior around him. "My, you've done quite a job," he marvels in his polite, posh voice. He smiles to the best of his ability, which really isn't quite pleasant at all. All teeth and scales and an expression unnatural for his complexion. "I congratulate you. Now, I'm afraid I never got a proper chance to introduce myself, nor did I properly catch your name." He bobs his head politely. "I am Mazirax, the coxswain of this vessel."

Finn instantly straightens their spine the moment that they hear the knocks, not going to look like they actually had to work to get this cleaning done. While it was obvious the situation had required more than just a passing attempt to get it clean, Finn wanted to make it seem as if it had been no sweat. Or, that it had not bothered them in the slightest. Finn was actually a decent actor, luckily. The person who stood in the doorway seemed to have better hygiene than Gidror, or at the least put more effort into their appearance. The dragonborn also seemed more friendly, which was a relief, despite Finn being somewhat prickly themself if they were honest. Honesty was not a virtue that Finn cared too about.

However, the smile from the dragonborn is a bit…off-putting. Finn is vain at the best of times, and is the sort of person who cares about appearances. Despite this, Finn already likes Mazirax more than the others that they've met so far. It might mean the dragonborn will be more difficult to kill, but Finn makes a mental note not to be too charmed by the unexpected politeness of Mazirax.

"Why thank you," Finn responds with a bit of a flourish, some energy returning at the chance to speak to a new person. "I do try my best. My name is Finn. It's nice to meet you, Mazirax."

Mazirax walks further into the room, his wide scarlet eyes taking in everything he can. A low whistle escapes his scaled lips. "I've already said this, but I am impressed, Finn. Nobody here yet wanted to take on the job." He laughs softly. "Not that they're not capable, they just had… better priorities." Those priorities were gambling and sleeping and brawling on the deck of the ship. Mazirax should know. He sees everything from his helm.

"Now, you have the job done, let's go eat, hm?" He claps his massive hands and tilts his head back up to the opened door. The sun lingers on the edge of the water. No land is in sight. Endless blue surrounds them from all sides, spreading and growing towards horizons. Chatter flows from a large room within the cabin. Mazirax wordlessly guides Finn towards the entry. The room is small, the crew stuffed around a rectangular table. Svierk sits at the head away from the door, taking swigs from a large mug. Billi sits to her right, an empty seat reserved for Mazirax across from them. Gidror sits next to Billi and Esteban sits across from him. The last two seats at the end are empty, Ivanca nowhere in sight.

Mazirax gestures to the empty seats and leaves to take his own. "Finn managed to declutter the entire lower deck," Mazirax praises to the table, his rumbling and accented voice catching the attention of the table. Most of them are expressionless, save for Esteban's polite round of applause. "Perhaps we won't have to get rid of this one."

Svierk shrugs, meeting Finn's eyes from across the table. "Perhaps not."

Food sounded amazing to Finn after slaving away at cleaning. No wonder no one had wanted that job; it was grueling work that Finn couldn't see why any logical person would want to do. Of course, it made sense to throw it on the newbie. Only someone who was a neat freak or trying to earn the respect of the crew would even think of approaching that level of messiness. At least it was over now, though Finn doubted that the cleaning they had to do was anywhere near finished. They figured that they would be assigned plenty more boring or demanding tasks that nobody else had stepped up to do for a while to come. Hopefully the crew would get a new addition soon so Finn could move on to better jobs and possibly also more information about the crew and ship. Finn really did want to know about those things, despite their actual mission at the heart of their reason for joining the crew. They wanted to get some information before they had to kill everyone, and they would need some if they were to actually complete the job. Finn knew that if they tried to complete the mission now, they would almost certainly fail, having the disadvantage of both numbers, knowledge of the ship, and knowing nothing about the crew. The only real advantage they would have is that the crew also only knew a little about Finn, and the element of surprise. Though even that was shaky at best, since most of the crew seemed to hold Finn in hostility, like they would snap and betray everyone at the blink of eye. Well, they weren't wrong.

As Finn and Mazirax reach the entry, Finn takes in the crowded atmosphere and empty seats at the table. Finn takes one of the empty seats that Mazirax had gestured to, sitting as if the seat was a throne. They had learned long ago to act as if one owns the room in body language, which helped immensely in both confidence and intimidation of those who were too feeble-minded to resist such confidence. It had worked for Finn numerous times before, but they doubted it would have much effect on the pirates. Finn smiled politely at the praise, nodding at Esteban's applause. Finn's smile stretches into almost a smirk as they meet Svierk's eyes. Despite their real mission, Finn can't help but feeling as if they have something to prove here. They want to show these pirates that they are worthy of joining them, a desire that Finn would not have expected to surface. Ah well. Hopefully it will make them seem more genuine at least.

"Thanks," Finn says in return, not wanting to talk too much in this room full of near-strangers. They are clearly the odd one out, and despite their mouthing off earlier, they don't want to make a bad impression on the pirates, lest they get kicked out too soon. Or possibly murdered in their sleep, which would really be a pity. Finn could be patient and wait to see what sort of dinner conversation was frequently enjoyed here before talking this time. This was not just a mercenary job; they would have to hold their tongue if they had any hope of being liked or trusted on this crew.

They eat dinner it relative joy and bustle, per usual. Svierk and Billi (mostly Billi) had presented a delightful roasted bird that was devoured in mere seconds. There's piles on piles of potato products, heavily salted jerky, pickled vegetables and more than enough alcohol to spare. Svierk converses loudly, boisterously with Gidror across the table. With both of their raised voices, it's quite difficult to pick out any other sort of conversation. Esteban and Mazirax speak politely with mostly gestures. Billi keeps grumpily to themselves. Ivanca had sometime appeared at the table, almost materializing out of nowhere and directly across from Finn.

When dinner finally wraps up, Svierk assigns Esteban and Finn to clean-up duty and then excuses herself–flanked by both Gidror and Mazirax–to the sterncastle for what she described as "sunset stabbing." Ivanca and Billi disappear through the back door towards the cabins and whatever else lurks below deck. Esteban seems completely unbothered by his new position as dishwasher. With a wave of his paw, the plates begin stacking together.

Through the small, round, and heavily fortified window looking out to the deck, Svierk and the twin masses climb the short steps to the raised sterncastle. Across from it, above the mess hall, sits the helm. She draws one of her dual cutlasses from its scabbard with a blinding grin. With a quick tap of her foot, their nightly routine of sparring atop the sterncastle begins. The sun has mostly dipped below the horizon by now, only a sliver of its golden halo still struggling to remain above water. From the east, the clouded navy of night begins to creep across the sky–still too light for stars.

"Sooo–" Esteban purrs as he drops a stack of magically floating plates into Finn's arms, blocking any sort of visual they might've had through the window. "How are you adapting to the ship so far? No one has killed you yet, so I suppose that's a plus."

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?"

The tabaxi is careful not to let any of his fur touch whatever slop and grime is left over from dinner. He may be vain, caring more for his clothes and fur and whiskers than most, but he still refuses to let a job go undone. He's grown used to having to find odd solutions to simple problems to make his life a little better. With mindless, wordless commands, he maneuvers a mage hand to do most of the dirty work for him. Later, he might have a small headache from the exertion, but it's nothing a little wine and beer won't be able to fix.

Esteban hums and looks to the ceiling as a conga line of utensils and cups follow him to the back door. "Well, I've been with the ship since it was first crafted, so I guess that I never really had to grow accustomed to it." He laughs merrily as he gestures for Finn to follow him back to what could only be the kitchen. "However, you should've seen me the first few weeks I was on the ship. I was sicker than a dog!" He smiles, still unnatural like Mazirax's grin, but somehow much more inviting.

He claps his hands; oil lamps scattered across the windowless kitchen flare to life. A small flicker of pride fizzles deep in his chest. Oh, does he love being the vessel's sorcerer. He points to the sink, already bubbling to life with suds and water. He drops the utensils into the tub and motions for Finn to do the same with all the plates. "I am curious about you, warlock," Esteban says as he bobs his hands to get the dishware to soak and scrub. "Where did you come from, hmm?" He raises an eyebrow and twitches his nose.

This man clearly had some decent amount of magic if he was willing to waste it on washing dishes. Finn never used their spells for that sort of purpose, always carefully preparing just in case. They liked to conserve their energy for bigger issues. However, they could hardly fault the tabaxi for not wanting to get his hands dirty. Touching leftover food on a dish was a disgusting feeling. It was interesting that he was with the ship when it was crafted; he must be an original member of the crew then, likely holding a lot of trust and respect in the others' eyes. So far the only magic that Esteban had done in Finn's presence was a few party tricks, but since he was on a pirate ship, Finn highly doubted this was the extent of his abilities.

Finn didn't mind the presence of Esteban, perhaps even liked conversing with him, though the question about themself wasn't exactly something Finn would like to talk about much. However, if they declined to respond, that would look incredibly suspicious, so Finn supposed they would just tell the truth, or at least not lie. They had found that truths (or at the least, partial truths) were a lot more likely to gain someone's trust or get someone to like you than outright lying. Finn was a good liar, so they weren't entirely sure how people could tell. Well, perceptive people could. Utter fools were easily won over by pretty lies. These pirates would not have gotten this far if they were the sort of fools who fell for easy lies and pleasing words. No, Finn's best strategy here was to tell the truth as much as possible without giving anything away. They would only lie when they had to, mostly by omission.

"Well, I came from my mother's womb," Finn joked, smirking for a moment before turning slightly more serious. "Not too far from the port where I boarded the ship, really. Or most recently, at least. I'm the sort who travels often, not really staying in one place for too long. Guess I just haven't found anything interesting enough to keep me rooted yet. I think that might change, though. Being on a ship is quite different from living on land, is it not?"

"Ah, a wanderer!" Esteban exclaims, still softly chuckling at Finn's joke. "I used to be one, you know. Before I was a sorcerer, I was a bard. Wanderlust and storytelling are simply in my nature! Tell me, tell me–" Esteban excitedly dunks the dishes a few times before gesturing to a dishrag for Finn to get to work on. An unspoken assembly line. Esteban will wash; Finn will dry. "What was it like? Everyone I know has had a different experience. Did you encounter danger? Strife? Had you always been alone or was there a partner at some point? Details, dear warlock, I require details!"

There's a reason an unspoken rule around the ship is to never mention a past around Esteban. The gossipy cat will pry for any sort of information. It's not for any sort of malicious reason, no. It's always been based on his natural bound curiosity and blatant extrovertism. Back in his bard days, all those years ago, he had encountered dozens upon hundreds of travelers in the taverns he would fleet between. He would write ballads and tales and spread a fair share of rumors, but hey! It was all good fun.

The tabaxi continues to move plates and utensils from the suds and into the dishcloths. Cleaning had never exactly been an issue for him, but it was always nice to have a helping hand and somebody to talk to. It's nice to have somebody that isn't immediately exhausted of his blabbering.

Finn blinked at the sudden barrage of questions. They had seen that Esteban was friendly, but gods was he extroverted. Not that it was a bad thing, but it was so different from the more strictly polite or outright cold attitudes he was used to. The rest of the crew seemed to display those sort of attitudes, so it was in Finn's comfort zone, but this tabaxi was entirely more energetic than most of the people Finn interacted with on a daily basis. It wasn't unwelcome, but Finn also wasn't sure if they entirely liked it. Having to explain their past was not something they were looking forward to, but they supposed they could recount a fairly accurate description without having to include the more…unsavory details.

They took a moment to think while taking the place Esteban had left them in the little assembly line. They had hoped their last remark would cause Esteban to talk about their experience on the ship or possibly their past, but instead the exact opposite was happening. Ah well. It wasn't as if Finn had any control over what Esteban said.

"Well, I hardly think it's that exciting, but I've largely been finding work as a mercenary," Finn admitted as they dried some dishes. "Ever since my contract with my patron I've been finding money in mercenary work. The magic makes most of that work quite easy, so it's rare that I find work that really interests me. So I travel in search of a job that would pique my interest, or a tome of knowledge that would be particularly enlightening. I've been trying to get my hands on any book I can relating to the things I'm interested in to learn as much as I can. As for danger, sure I've encountered danger, I was a mercenary. And I think I would be pretty idiotic to want to be part of the crew of pirate ship without having some sort of experience with danger and strife. The closest thing that I really have to a partner is my patron, I suppose. I've worked together with others for a few jobs, but nothing really stuck."

There. Finn had answered all of Esteban's questions. They had been deliberately somewhat vague in their answers, but they hoped they had shared enough to satisfy Esteban's desire for knowledge of Finn's past. There was quite a bit more that Finn had left out–mostly family issues and the exact jobs they did as a mercenary. Almost any part of Finn's past that had to do with others was a bit rocky; Finn had never been great at holding friendships or relationships, and usually didn't care to try. They rarely spoke to their family either, so the only things that they could share if they wanted to were probably not the exciting adventures someone like Esteban would care to hear about. Finn didn't like to air out their dirty laundry to others. Perhaps now Esteban would talk more about himself so Finn could learn about the man next to him.

"Oh, all understandable and noble causes!" Esteban announces, dunking the last few dishes into the water before handing them off to Finn. "My wandering days on foot are over, but I suppose seafaring is just as good as any. It's like being on a wagon, but the wagon is your house and all of your friends live on the wagon with you." Esteban gestures wildly with his hands as he speaks, moving them from point A to point B to further illustrate his point.

It's clear that his questioning is… somewhat getting to the warlock. Esteban has to bite his tongue. The last thing he needs is to drive Finn away. His outgoing, talkative nature can clearly be a lot for most people, and while he loves to meet new people, he tries to know when to draw it back. Esteban supposes that's why he was drawn to Svierk when he was younger. She had nodded along, contributed to the conversation, laughed at his jokes, and listened to Esteban when most would turn the mewling tabaxi around. The new crew is better than the old. Esteban's thankful that Mazirax and Svierk had allowed him to stick around. The Iron Zeppelin is his home, after all.

After clearing his throat, Esteban speaks up. "Please, if my chatter becomes too much you could always tell me to be quiet, and I'll oblige." He wrings his paws together and snaps his fingers. The mage hand drops and Esteban reaches to begin putting all of the dried dishes away. "And if you need to know where anything is, you can just ask me." He offers another half-smile with a twitch of his whiskers. "Svierk may be intimidating and quick to kill, but she really is a kind woman. I'm sure if you show her something worthy within your soul, she'll have you stick around for a while."

Finn was a bit taken aback by Esteban's sudden reticence. They felt almost bad for making him feel as though he needed to shut up. While Finn didn't care to talk about their past or themself in general, vastly preferring to discuss things like magic or combat or random things that they had learned through their study, they didn't mind conversation. Besides, how was the tabaxi supposed to know that Finn's past was something they disliked discussing? And if Finn wanted any sort of information about the ship, they would have to befriend these people, and Esteban was probably the friendliest so far. Standing and doing the dishes in silence probably wouldn't get them to bond at all, so Finn supposed some talking was in order here. It wasn't as if it pained them; they could just change the subject. There could be no trust if they didn't talk; simply standing next to each other hardly bred camaraderie.

"Oh, no, I don't mind the conversation," Finn responded, glancing at the tabaxi. "I appreciate the kindness. I'm just not the best conversation partner, is all. I dislike talking about myself, to be honest. As someone who doesn't have a lot of friends, I usually just talk about work or combat or what have you. I'm sure I'm not the only one, so perhaps you understand the sentiment? And I appreciate your offer, since I am not the most familiar with this ship or ships in general, but I am more than willing to learn. I want to be an asset to this ship and learn as much as I can, after all."

Hopefully that seemed natural enough, since, like before, it was all true. Finn didn't have a lot of friends and they didn't really talk about themself much, mostly because they hated it. It felt awkward and forced, and many times they didn't want to admit to some of the things they had done as a mercenary. They were probably a decent person once, but that was before they met their patron. She had plans and Finn had a growing desire for knowledge and adventure, so it was a mutually beneficial relationship. However, some of her plans involved less than ideal jobs, which Finn mostly blocked out of their mind. They had gotten good at that, shutting off their emotions when necessary. They had read a little about the mind, seeing at that was another topic that quite interested them, and they could compartmentalize their emotions in order not to deal with them. Surviving was the most important thing, other people be damned. Finn knew they weren't a good person, but they were far from the worst to walk this plane. They would be doing everyone a favor by killing these pirates, and they had to remember that. The pirates could be nice at first glance, but surely the tales Finn had heard had a grain of truth to them. Besides, it was what his patron wanted, and she would protect Finn as long as they tried to carry it out.

Shoulders raising and a smirk returning to his face, Esteban levels Finn with a glance. Whatever the crew may say about the newcomer, they aren't nearly as bad as Billi or Svierk may make them out to be. Call it respect or common courtesy or just simply repaying the favor of listening, Esteban will defend this warlock. (Of course, to an extent. The crew and the ship must fall above all potential relations.) The tabaxi nods. "I appreciate you listening to me, my dear warlock. It's not too often I get an apt listener for a comrade."

Finn's past, of course, is entirely understandable. Hell, Esteban's been unable to wrangle even the smallest details of a past from some of his other shipmates. Ivanca is nothing but a silent specter of the ship; Billi clams up whenever the smallest question is aimed towards their history; Svierk and Mazirax, no matter how long Esteban has remained with them, have refused to even offer up the smallest bits of information. Gidror is no secret to most of the ship. They were all present when they had rescued the half-orc from a life steering towards nothing but barbaric, brutish vigilantism. Esteban could see it within Gidror's acid-green irises–the half-orc was overjoyed that he was no longer the newest member, but Gidror was also no fool to get his hope up. The last four potential residents of the Iron Zeppelin had all met a watery grave at the hands of Captain Svierk Greyy.

"I won't press if you don't want to speak of your past," Esteban continues as he puts away the last of the plates. "I understand plenty of topics can be difficult to talk about." He smiles with a short laugh. "We all have our secrets. What would a pirate be without a few skeletons in their closets, hm?" The joking twinkle in Esteban's eyes may be genuine, but he supposed one would have to be a fool to think that he were lying. The tabaxi is a showman, a bard, an alhoholic, a storyteller, a magician–but he is not a liar.

Finn smiled back at Esteban, relieved that their own prickliness hadn't deterred him, and also that Finn was no longer being asked a barrage of questions. They would match rather talk about something they were more comfortable with, or perhaps even listen to Esteban talk. His tact was refreshing; many of the souls Finn had the displeasure of meeting didn't have the charisma or friendliness of the tabaxi. Already they were warming to the man, which was good and bad. But Finn could deal with the semantics later. Right now, they needed to befriend Esteban and try to win his trust.

"I like to think that I'm a good listener," Finn responded with another smile. "I'm happy just to hear your tales or talk about most things. Thank you for the understanding. And I suppose you're right. I highly doubt any pirate has had a perfect life, and the same goes for most mercenaries. These aren't the sort of jobs that those people tend to want. Dangerous jobs are for people who feel like they have less to lose, in my experience." They shrugged.

Perhaps Finn could allude to their past without getting too uncomfortable, but keeping it vague was much more in the range of things Finn enjoyed. Anything too detailed was not only difficult to talk about, but may raise suspicion with their newfound comrades. The last thing they wanted was for their marks to be suspicious of them; it could derail the entire operation, and that would be bad. Not just bad, possibly the end of Finn's life bad. Svierk clearly would not hesitate to kill Finn if pressed, and while Finn's patron could protect them to an extent, there was only so much she could do. However, Finn had been in dangerous situations before, so they would just shut off their emotions like always and do the job. It wouldn't help to dwell on it, even if meeting the crew was beginning to make them realize just how difficult of a job this would be, and just how deep they were. No wonder the reward was so promising. Finn would do everything in their power to come out of this alive, and they would. They had never failed a mission, and this would not be their first.

Esteban laughs softly, wiping his paws on the sides of his pants, though there wasn't anything to clean to begin with. "Well, I thank you entirely for your listening ear. It's not often I come across one that hasn't heard all of my tales." He smiles thinking of the campfire nights the crew would spend together, the chorus of light-hearted groans whenever Esteban would begin a half-true retelling of some adventure he had in his youth. "I look forward to speaking to you more, Finn, but now we must make our way to the main deck. Captain might have some closing orders for the night, if not, we go to bed."

Hmm. Esteban wonders where they'll manage to put the newcomer. Mazirax and Gidror already take up two hammocks each, the rest of them taken by other crewmates. Svierk stays in the captain's quarters alone, but Esteban hardly thinks she would even consider allowing a stranger to share her space. Oh well! That's not Esteban's problem. If anything, it'll probably be Billi's.

The duo exit the kitchens, then through the mess hall and through the door to the main deck. Mazirax is sitting below the sterncastle, nursing what looks like a relatively decent slash through their armored bicep. However, he looks entirely unfazed by the injury and instead spends his energy talking calmly with Billi. Billi looks somewhat irritated, tapping a hoof on the ground and rolling their large, brown eyes. Above them, brawling on the raised deck of the sterncastle, is Svierk and Gidror. They're both smiling wide, the captain and the muscle locked in tight combat with a cutlass and pike.

"Ooh, looks like the Captain took Mazirax out early tonight," Esteban muses with a light chuckle before rubbing his paws together. A white glow emits from his hands as he approaches the coxswain. The dragonborn, still locked in conversation with the satyr, merely nods at Esteban and allows the tabaxi to lay his hands upon the laceration. Almost instantly, the wound knits back together as if it had never been there to begin with.

Ah, healing magic. Was that the sort of thing Esteban specialized in? It was always good to have a healer around in case one got into trouble. Of course, it was possible that was just another of Esteban's many talents, so Finn would have to make sure not to underestimate them. In fact, Finn had already underestimated the crew at first, before realizing that would be much more of a challenge than they had let themself imagine. Their last mission had been a piece of cake compared to this, and even that mission had required some effort. It was interesting to see the crew interact with each other though; it seemed most of them had known each other for some time. The thought might have been heartwarming had Finn cared, or not been actively working to switch off their emotions now. No more emotions, no more attachment. They could only afford to be observant, to be charismatic enough to get the others to befriend them, and then do what they had set out to do. Too much ruminating on it would be the opposite of helpful.

Finn didn't really have any comments to make to the trio they were standing with now, so instead they gazed upward to watch the fight. Both of them certainly had a lot of combat practice from what Finn could tell, moving about like practiced fighters, which Finn supposed they were. It was interesting to watch. They both had skill, as well as determination, though they were clearly enjoying themselves. People who loved to fight could be quite dangerous, since they were not hindered by the drudgery of doing a task when practicing. Finn themself enjoyed combat, though physical combat was hardly their strong suit. They preferred the elegance and fluidity of magical combat, making it almost like a dance with the special effects of spells whizzing through the air. Finn may not be especially gifted in physical combat, but they treated that like a dance as well. Once, Finn had been good at dancing, and quite enjoyed it, but they hadn't practiced in a while. Their time was better spent learning things or preparing for whatever job they were taking next.

After watching the fight play out for several seconds, Finn's eyes cut back to Esteban. "Do they do that every night?" Finn mused, curious. They glanced over Mazirax and Billi as well before looking back up at the two who were fighting once more. It was certainly a good way to train, and they didn't have to worry about minor wounds with a healer on board. Finn wondered how far Esteban's healing skills extended. Was he the type who could heal more extensive injuries as well, or was healing just a side hobby he could do in a pinch?

Esteban hums and raises an eyebrow. "Who? Svierk, Mazirax and Gidror?" Esteban points to the fight still occuring–wait no. Svierk drops to the ground, avoiding a swipe of Gidror's pike, using her cutlass to hook Gidror's ankle and knock him to the ground. "Yes, this is a nightly occurrence. Sometimes Ivanca joins them, but it seems she wasn't quite up to brawling tonight." Esteban sighs, almost wistfully, and studies the fallen half-orc to ensure that he won't need any sort of healing. The orc groans and rolls to his feet with a helping hand from the captain. He seems just fine, so Esteban saves his energy for when it might be better needed.

"That was a good time," Svierk says through a smile, hardly even winded. "Gid, you need to watch your weight. I'm not saying that you need to lose any, but you just need to be aware of how opponents can use your weight against you." Gidror nods, smacking a fist to his chest in some orcish sign of respect. "Maz–my wonderful coxswain–" She says the words with a grimace. "Why did you allow yourself to be taken out so easily?"

The dragonborn shrugs, looking from Billi and straight to Finn. "I'm afraid different matters were on my mind. I apologize, captain."

Svierk shrugs and steps up onto the railing of the sterncastle. "Iron Zeppelin!" She calls, gathering the attention that was already directly on her. Ivanca practically materializes from below-deck. "For tonight, Finn will be sleeping on the floor in your quarters. Don't kill them in their sleep unless it's really funny or there's an emergency." That gains a small chuckle from both Esteban and Gidror. "We'll find a hammock and place for them eventually, but it's late, and we have a destination to approach. Clear?"

"Aye-aye!" Comes the chorus.

Esteban turns to the warlock. "Come now, Finn. I'll show you to the sleeping quarters."

While sleeping on the floor didn't sound pleasant, Finn could handle that. It would hardly be the worst thing they experienced. They were curious about what matters exactly had been on Mazirax's mind during the fight, mostly because they clearly pertained to Finn themself. At any rate, Finn could think about it on the way there. They glanced at Esteban and nodded. "Alright."

It was interesting that some members of the crew brawled every night, and certainly not a bad idea. It would make them tougher opponents, especially if they ever faced Finn in such a brawl, leading them to anticipate Finn's fighting style. Considering Finn liked to fight with magic rather than weapons most of the time, they doubted that would happen, and if it were, they would likely practice their fighting with weapons. They suspected they would almost certainly lose in a no-magic fight, but that was alright. Better for their practice, anyhow. The crew really did seem close, which was almost sweet, if not for everything they had apparently done. Finn themself was no saint, but the stories they had heard of this crew were really something else. Though it was possible they were exaggerated…

At any rate, that didn't matter at this current moment. Finn could dwell on that until their head hurt later, but right now they needed rest. Being apart of the crew was certainly different, and fascinating. They could study the crew's habits for sleeping as well now. Every little detail might be of use, so they would do their best to pay attention while seeming like they weren't. That was a skill they had gotten quite good at, as was lying. Still, they didn't want to go too far in their observation, especially so soon after boarding when everyone was suspicious of them. It annoyed Finn a bit, but it wasn't as if they were wrong at all, so Finn could hardly fault them for it. They would be stupid not to have at least a little doubt about the newcomer.

Esteban speaks quietly with Mazirax as the group moves in a small huddle towards the stern and then below deck. The short staircase stops at one level before going down to the newly-organized storage room. In the narrow hallway–Mazirax and Gidror barely being able to slide through–there are three doors. One is the washroom, full-plumbing, hot water, and a box of holding for everyone included thanks to Esteban's sorcery, and the other two are bunks. Billi, Ivanca, and Esteban make for one, Gidror and Mazirax pausing in the door to the other.

"Where are we going to put them?" Gidror grumbles, jabbing a thumb in Finn's direction.

"Ugh," Billi grumbles, smacking their forehead against their doorframe. "Well. How about we give them a choice?" They enunciate their words painstakingly, the exhaustion of the day clearly seeping into their tone and expression. The satyr claps twice. "Listen, do you want to stay with Maz and Gidror? Or would you like to stay with us three?"

"Our room is bigger and doesn't smell like sweat!" Esteban adds, pointing a clawed finger to the ceiling.

"Yeah, but ours isn't plagued by your shitty singing," Gidror retaliates.

Esteban actually looks offended, but before anything can come of it, Mazirax slaps a massive hand against the wood and clears his throat. "I think we're all just a little tired and stressed at the moment. Calm down. Finn, where would you like to stay?"

Well, wasn't this a doozy. Finn was not entirely sold on either room, but they supposed they had to pick one.They stood there for a few moments, debating their options. If they went with Mazirax and Gidror, there would be less people, though both of them were much bigger in size than any of the other three. And Esteban's singing was not exactly something Finn wanted to hear as they tried to sleep, whether he was shitty or not. Finn disliked hearing other people sing unless it was at a tavern or something similar. But Finn was also somewhat fastidious about their hygiene, and hearing that the one side smelled like sweat was enough to turn them off of it completely. That combined with the fact that they did not like Gidror–the feeling was clearly mutual–sealed the deal. They would rather put up with Esteban being loud than have to smell sweat and be around someone they already quite disliked.

"I'd like to stay with the three of them, thanks," Finn replies to Mazirax, gesturing the side where Esteban and the others were standing. They didn't want to delay this too long, as everyone would likely get annoyed at Finn for getting them less sleep. At least Finn would be, if the roles were reserved, and as they had realized earlier, it would be best to avoid getting any more crew members to dislike them.

Hopefully, Esteban would be quiet enough that it would allow Finn to get some decent rest, but they supposed they wouldn't know until it was too late. Either way, they'd made their choice and they would stand by it. It wouldn't be the first time they had to share a room with people they weren't overly fond of, and they doubted it would be the last, but hopefully it would at least be bearable. That was all Finn could ask.

"Fine by me," Gidror grumbles, kicking the door to his cabin open before striding in. Mazirax offers what seems to be a semi-apologetic shrug and follows his half-orc companion into the room. The heavy oak door swings shut behind them, the latch locking with a loud click. When Esteban looks back over to Billi and Ivanca should be, only to find both of them already within their hammocks. Ivanca lays mere inches away from the ceiling, her hammock strung taught from two of the beams. Esteban has to wonder how she hasn't whacked her head on the ceiling yet. Billi's curled up in their own loose hammock, which looks more like a hanging chair than anything else.

"I have a blanket you can use," Esteban pats Finn's shoulder and leads them to where the final unoccupied hammock is laying. Unlike the other two, Esteban's is a florescent purple, embroidered with gold along the seams, and much larger than the other two. From the confines of the hammock, Esteban produces a thick quilt the same shade as the hammock. "I hope the floor doesn't smell like piss and shit, and I apologize if it does." The tabaxi climbs into his own hammock, swinging it slightly with every movement.

With a few swipes of his paws, Esteban produces a golden runic symbol above his head. A simple protection ward for the ship, a routine Esteban has gotten into every night aboard the Zeppelin. With his palm, he presses the rune up, watching it float to the ceiling with widened pupils. Once it hits the wood, the runes dissipate into the structure.

"Good night then, Finn," Esteban says quietly. "I hope you sleep well."

(sorry about the brief hiatus!)

A protection rune. That made a lot of sense, considering how much harder it would be to defend the ship when all of the crew were sleeping. Though from what Finn could tell, it wouldn't do much from anything inside the ship, which was good for Finn. They did appreciate the blanket from Esteban, giving a quiet nod of thanks as they took the quilt. They tried not to wince at the mention of the smell on the floor, but perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as Finn was fearing.

At Esteban's words, Finn started to settle down on the floor. They weren't right to Esteban, but closer to them than the others. "Night," they murmured, trying to be quiet for the sake of the others in the room. Weird that cared about common courtesy like that when they were going to end up ending the lives of these people in the future. Yet for some reason they didn't want to annoy the others. Eh, they did need the crew to like them for this mission to be carried out. They couldn't exactly complete it if they were killed by the pirates first.

As they lay on the floor, their eyes began to feel heavy. This day had been a tiring one, and sleep was calling their name. Perhaps their patron would visit them in their dreams tonight.

(no worries!)

The crew of the Iron Zeppelin falls into an easy slumber. Light doesn't dare to filter through the cracks of the wooden planks, not a sound brave enough to disrupt any of the pirates' sleep. Esteban hums in is sleep, rolling over in his hammock. Ivanca is corpse-still from her place near the ceiling. Billi snores softly, a few small bells clutched tightly to their chest.

In the room over, Mazirax and Gidror breathe deeply and in unison. It's exceptionally warm in there from Mazirax's volcanic breathing and Gidror's radiating body heat. Neither of them mind, too accustomed with each other to even notice.

Moments before the sun rises, when the sky is dyed a lovely shade of lavender from the civil twilight, Svierk emerges from the captain's quarters. Her eyes are heavy and her jaw is set. Leather boots make no sound as she ascends the staircase. It's deathly quiet. With a heavy sigh, the woman climbs the netting to the crow's nest, a map and compass tucked beneath her arm. She unfurls the map across the banister, using the compass as a weight to keep it from curling. With the tip of her taloned nail, she crosses an "x" over the place they had just came from. From where her nail touched, a bleeding mark appears to match the dozens of other marks that only signaled another dead end. She scratches her head and squints. The weathervane has to be somewhere.

Finn slept like a rock that night. They did not dream, and their patron did not visit. As soon as their lids closed, everything faded to black. It was restful, at least, which was good and definitely not unwelcome. That was a relief to the eladrin warlock, slumbering away.

They awoke groggily the next morning, blinking awake slowly. For a moment they had to adjust to the scenery of the ship, missing having an actual bed rather than sleeping on the floor. They had managed to kick the blanket off during the night, being the type to be a bit restless in their sleep, despite what sort of dreams they had, tossing and turning as they slumbered. A chill was beginning to creep in from the lack of any sort of covering, and Finn grabbed the blanket back from its position nearby. They rolled their head, neck feeling uncomfortable. Their back didn't feel amazing, either. Yep, they could definitely tell that they had been sleeping on the floor. It was not the most pleasant feeling, but at least they were on the ship, making headway with their mission. They could be comfortable later.

It didn't seem as if the others were awake yet, and Finn wasn't sure what to do once they woke up. Perhaps it was still the middle of the night. The room was dark enough that it easily could have been. They supposed that they would just go back to sleep until someone else woke them up or the others woke up. They didn't want to get up and explore yet, lest they be deemed even more suspicious. They could learn the ship as they continued to stay here. For now, they wanted as much sleep as they could get before starting the next day. Finn had always been the type to prioritize their beauty sleep.