Flight of Fancy: IC (Mature) {Currently Closed}

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

A bare holding pen (Slave characters start here)
It had been a near eternity of collars and shackles, barked orders punctuated by blows to the back, and dizzying, nauseating spells blasted through the restraints to keep the captives pliant. Food and water were distributed at irregular intervals, mostly hardtack with a bit of grease to let it down. The nausea spells ensured that little of it stayed down, but it seemed to satisfy the captors' sense of hospitality.

The final leg of the journey was done hooded, bound in a sack, and placed in some kind of wooden confine. At least the prisoners weight bad been carried, although for what purpose that had served was unclear.

Eventually, the crates were cracked open, the hoods removed, the sacks unbound. There was a little light from electric lamps spaced around the walls of the  otherwise bare, wide-open vaulted room, meager for most circumstances but blinding after the recent trip in the dark. Blinking away the multicolored motes reveals about twenty five other shackled, bruised forms, and a small group of biped wolves, clad in dark blue uniforms and snarling.

One of them, a bit shorter than the average, and missing half of his left ear with a twist in his neck, snarls in the general direction of the mob of prisoners.

"Welcome aboard my craft, maggots. You're being given a rare opportunity, a chance to strike a most mortal blow to the enemies of His Excellency. I doubt too many of you understand or care for the honor, so I'll give you some news that you can grasp. You're in a secure environment here. See the crease in the floor? We can open it at any time and drop you hundreds of feet where you'll splatter into bloody chunks in the ground, if you guys so much as think of causing trouble. Which means we don't need to keep you so dizzy you don't know where you are. Some food will be coming around in an hour or so, when you'll be able to keep it down. And who knows, in a year or two I might even salute some of you scum"

He strides out, along with the rest of his entourage, and as he leaves, he makes a little arcane gesture, the chains binding the prisoners dissolving into so much mist.


The Takeoff. (Passenger characters start here)
Boarding the dirigible is all the organized chaos of a harvest festival, although the rough and tumble shoving for a place near the parades is replaced by polite sniffs, flashing of coats of arms, and perhaps a last minute dweamor in a  rush to be first in a zone where most magic failed to work.

Surrounding it all are dark liveried staff, helping the process along in a manner that is a shade less than obsequious but still cloying. As the idle rich (and I suppose you guys) are herded to the lounge, light music, the sort that was in its highest vogue fifteen years ago, plays throughout the cabin, although what is projecting it is unclear.

Circular tables are scattered about, with crisp white linen tablecloths that drape down low enough to get caught on the knees of the people sitting around them. Scented candles burn at the center of each one, although sufficient incandescent orbs are latched on high on the walls to make their purpose primarily one of clearing the atmosphere.

A small wooden stage dominates the back of the room, and in front of a saffron curtain stands a middling height wolf Demon, casually stretching his leathery wings. A dark naval uniform lends an air of gravity to his scarred visage and half-amputated ear. A twist in his neck means that though he tries to address the center of the room, he winds up speaking to the the tables slightly to the left, although his voice is easily loud enough to be understood, throughout the room.


"Welcome aboard the Flame of Freedom, the only way to travel through the skies of Furrae and look down upon...... Well, I'm sure you've all read the travel adverts, so you don't need me repeating them. I am captain Uidnetan, and although I yearn for your company, I won't be seeing too much of you if the flight goes well, spending most of my time in the command deck. But I do want you all to know that as soon as the engines come on, the magic damper will be in effect. Most of our clientele are older creatures, and if this is your first time aboard, I should warn you, many of you rely far more on magic than you even realize at first. It will take some getting used to, but our staff is always ready and able to help you through the worst of it, and most of our passengers find the experience a fun, educational adventure after the initial discomfort wears off. Thank you all for riding, and I do believe we are ascending........ now."

The pumping of boilers is audible even in the confines of the lounge, and as the captain gently shoulders the curtain aside and disappears backstage, a slow, steady ascent is palpable as the dirigible begins to rise.

[justacritic]

     Hobbies set down his suitcase and looked around at his quarters, for someone who was hired to provide some entertainment it wasn't too bad a suite. It was more space than he had expected for a windowless room. He opened his suitcase and made some signs with his hands. Out flowed his performance collection and the little extra "security" he always carried with him. While there were guards and all on the ship, Hobbies knew that they were there for the company first, passengers second, crew third and anyone else dead last. It paid to be careful.

   The twelve puppets that could be altered to become a cast of thousands stood at attention, suspended by the special strings developed over the years. He was quite proud of that! Thick cords ruined the suspension of disbelief, so Hobbies kept innovating and innovating. Now there were physical strings so fine they were like spider silk with the physical properties and none of the fragility. Strings composed of magic were too erratic to be of any help but in time Hobbies was able to emit material of what could be called pure intention to manipulate his puppets. He couldn't really explain it himself but it was a handy trick that brought him great pride. The incubus was careful never to overuse it though. Besides it was only useful for that particular purpose, trying to expand the material to any thing larger than string caused some "unpleasant" things to happen. But he needn't remember that incident again.

   Hobbies wondered what he should do now. He was mostly the extremely late night entertainment. It was still early in the day and he wasn't due on the stage until much later. The fennec had an idea though; he would listen and perhaps find out what sort of plays the audience wanted. With the magic dampener on board, some of his repertoire was unavailable at the moment. However there were literally untold hundred thousands of pieces in the history of the puppet arts.  

   The Incubus was careful, even while these were more "enlightened" times. There was still unrest about creatures. He turned to his "security", "The Dancing Weaver", "The Dusk Twins", "Mr. Mud", "The Eyeless Man", and with great reluctance "...The Bloody Smiler". "The Dusk Twins" were bundled away and Hobbies stepped out the door of his room. After locking the door securely with the key, he started to walk to the cabin but stopped for an instant.

   The Incubus placed a hand into his clothes and made sure that his gift was still there. It was irreplaceable, a piece of history in the palm of his hand. When it was he was assured that the set was still there, he continued to walk uncertain what his future held.

[Aisha deCabre]

...So THIS is the Flame of Freedom.  Gotta say "wow", I think.

The docking station for the airship was a veritable sea of flamboyant colors and vibrant, elegant costumes...it was a crowd of the noble and the privileged blood, those with the money to truly pay for a luxury cruise on what was perhaps the biggest dirigible that any of them had ever seen.  Metallic edges sparkling in the sun, letters of its name embossed with flaming reds and oranges in the paint of the hull, with a the head of a legendary Phoenix to top the elaborate decorations, it was surely a sight to behold...and one adventurer was in the midst of those who had legitimately paid for their trip, though in her adventuring clothes she felt somewhat more out-of-place.  At least her cloak bore the white-and-sky-blue colors and ensign of the Shadowed Depths Monastery of Healing...a disciple of Mistress Rynkura more than likely would be overlooked on a prestigious ship, whether she looks like a rogue or not.

Flicking her hood back so that she could properly take in the mammoth size of the ship before her, ascending behind a line of several others, Creatures and Beings alike, onto the ramp with her pack in tow and weapons sheathed in their proper places, The Risen's deep crimson gaze flecked forth and back as far as she could see...rather impressed by the atmosphere of it all.

Just as long as I can find Jake, she sighed to herself, her eyes setting resolutely on the entrance in front of her as she strolled along.  I wonder how he could have gotten himself into this fancy place after news of his coming into trouble.

"Ticket, Ma'am?" the tall and stately gazelle at the door asked with a bit of a sneer in his visage, making her quirk an eyebrow in reply before she flashed the ticket.  Her name was added to the roster, and she entered.

The lounge that everyone was ushered into after a while was certainly like a world all its own, to the panthress.  Rarely on a long adventuring trip could she look forward to luxury accommodations such as these...real food not to hunt for, a real bed not to make out of a tree...Heh, like the rabbit hole, eh chica?.

Aisha chose a table near the front and relaxed in the plush cushion, her eyes on the stage where surely their captain would be there to greet them.

Her eyes narrowed when she saw the wolf upon the stage, stately and proper, his leathery wings fully displayed.  Demon?  Or 'Cubi, perhaps.  Bah, but if it is a demon, there's little wonder that perhaps it WAS trouble that Jake got into, I just bet.

She sat through his speech, eager soon enough to get out of there and to her room on the inn level where she could settle fully.  She indeed felt the ship rising, the pulsating hum of the engines somewhere far away...and also she could feel a sort of lightness all about her person.  She wasn't magic...but her weapons were, and even the enchantment of the boomerang on her hip felt a little further away to her senses now.  All part of the deal, as it was assured to her when she had read the brochure.  At least if there are any undesirable Creatures coming along, the playing field was leveled some with that dampener.

Her eyes wandered all about the milling crowd, some of them sitting still and conversing, others getting up to make their walk in grand crowds about the ship...toward the games, perhaps, or like her, the inn rooms and bars.

As she stood and straightened up, planning her route for the days ahead and her course of action for asking about her lost friend, her head hung slightly.  Wherever you are, amigo, don't get into WORSE trouble.

*     *     *

Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of the ship, there was a completely different set of passengers who could only wish for the same fate as those others...people who had no idea what existed behind the curtain of luxury.

A tall, black gryphon had stood quietly with the others, his eyes trying hard to focus in the sudden light even moments after the blinder on his head was ripped away.  He fidgeted against the chains and manacles, barely hearing the words that the wolf with the ripped ear had spoken to them.  He only found comfort once their oppressors were finally out of sight, and then the uncomfortable silence fell like a shroud over the dire and somber faces of the slaves all around him.

Once the chains dissolved (but not the manacles, which he assumed blocked his magic, for he couldn't even find the will to spark a small fire), Jake paced around and moved his arms in circular motions to test his muscles.  Nothing broken, after the rough treatment that he'd been subjected to after his defeat and capture...he would have laughed at the notion that the open bay doors would kill an avian, except that he had heavily-weighted tags on his ruffled black wings at the first joint.  Flying was impossible, as it was certain for any other avians abound...he would plummet to the ground as surely as the Beings.

Another fine mess, Jake...another fine mess.  Captured by slavers, lost your weapon.  What now?

After stretching a little more and smoothing the bluish-white feathers of his chest, the gryphon Knight looked around, his heart falling when he looked at the many blank, hopeless faces around him...weak, beaten, starved, devoid of spirit.  He saw defiance in more than a few, certainly, but most of those were on the edge of their breaking points as well.  A small fire boiled in his blood, and he resisted the urge to growl.  Slavers.  Even the threat of hanging or beheading for these crimes in these provinces won't stop them.  Why do this?

He took a deep breath and wandered to the wall to lean on it, looking around again before speaking up.  "So...anyone play cards?  Or twenty questions, maybe?  Don't know about all of you, but I'm bored already."

His words echoed eerily along the chamber, and he got a few incredulous looks...but nobody else replied right away.

"Wow.  Tough crowd," he joked.  "Gotta lighten up at least a little bit."

"Yer new, aren'cha?"

The new voice, quiet but rough and hard, spoke to Jake from the side.  He turned to see another avian, though he lacked wings, but the sight of his leonine limbs and forepaws told him "gryphon", as well.  He was somewhat taller than Jake, perhaps about as young, and very much in shape for a slave.  His colorings were mostly white, save for a few brown flecks about his neck ruff and black streaks around his eyes that likened him to a very fierce-looking falcon.  In his eyes, the Knight could see an unending defiance and perhaps a spirit that hadn't been all that broken yet.

"Kinsman," Jake smiled, addressing the other gryphon as he was taught to address them.  "Yeah, you could say that.  But I'm not supposed to be here anyway."

The other didn't smile.  "None a' us are supposed ta be here.  But we are.  Funny, ain't it?"  His eyes narrowed.  "How'd you get here?"

"Captured," the lankier gryphon sighed.  "While fighting."

"Ah," The slave nodded understandably.  "Ya look like a fighter-type; stronger than most 'round here.  Ya might eventually be put t' them gladiator rings, or put to stronger work.  Or the breedin' stocks," he snorted.  "But don'cha bet on it.  By the way," he extended his paw out, "Name's Willard."

He smiled back and shook it.  "Jakoba Talothir.  But, I prefer to just be called Jake."

"Hm," the muscular avian nodded.  "Keep rememberin' that name.  S' the only thing you'll be able to call yer own.  Anyway, I'm here to give some advice.  Keep yer head down, mind yer manners, either say 'yes and no sir' to th' guards or nothin' at all, and you'll do fine...kinsman."

With that, Willard turned away with a flick of his tail to check upon the weaker members of their motley group.  Jake immediately took him for the type who looked out for the people around him as best as he could, though the one thing he gave up on was the thought of freedom.  More than likely, now, Willard was giving that same advice to everyone who came on as a new slave.

Jake just sighed again.  Well, this'll be a long trip.

[Tipod]

"My name is not 'Garçon,' madame." On board for ten minutes and already confused for the hired help. Things were off to a glorious start.

The Flame of Freedom, luxury liner and marvel of modern engineering. Just thinking about all the work that went into its design, from the bolts and screws in the plating to the stitches in every balloon sent excited chills down Terry's spine. An educational experience and a vacation all in one? This was a dream-come-true, exactly the sort of thing he'd promised himself after all these years of civil service.

And then he realized, oh right, this is also a ship frequented by many other wealthy individuals of the Creature persuasion. Marvelous.

The peculiar Undead took his seat at an empty table towards the back of the lounge, boots shuffling quietly against the floor as he settled down. As far as golems went, his body was designed to be as little of an eyesore as possible: wooden limbs coated with dark rubber, bits of lighter sheet metal and plating covering his chest and extremities, and a light Sallet helmet with a widened visor. Behind it, a pair of blue lights glowed softly. They occasionally slanted and shifted; his only method of facial expression.

Terry leaned back as he listened to the introduction. Standard captain spiel, hope you enjoy your flight, don't do what I wouldn't do, blah blah blah--

Wait, what was that about a magic damping?

Soon enough, he could feel his body grow heavier, movement as stiff as the timber his arms were carved from. Oh. Oh dear. This was discomforting indeed. Hopefully, his frame would adjust soon enough to the change. Spending his entire flight feeling like a senior citizen was not part of the plan.

[Paladin Sheppard]

A large cloaked and hooded form weaved its way through the crowds to the boarding area, handing its ticket over at the foot of the airship's ramp, an armored gauntlet used to give, and receive the (now) punched ticket back.

Paladin looked up as he boarded, smirking under his well used traveling cloak at the stares he was receiving for his size and rather worn, but well looked after travel gear as he headed towards the lounge. He wondered how many more stares would come his way if he showed off his armor and arms as well.

After the Captain's speech, the Hooded Wolf headed off towards his cabin in the first class section, and once inside shedding the cloak and travel pack in the corner. With the captain's warning that magic was suppressed when the Airship was under way, Pal quickly removed several sets of clothing from his pack's pockets of holding and placed them in the cabin's wardrobe.

Making sure the Door was locked the Wolf unarmored and dressed into clothes more appropriate for relaxing, namely a pair of slacks spit-shined black shoes and a collared t-shit.

Now prepared to rest and recover Paladin left the cabin, locking it behind him and proceeded to the deck so he could watch the rest of the loading possess and the airship cast off, looking around for a bar.



*************************************


Arriving late to the boarding ramp a diminutive, black furred (with a white patch over her right eye), red headed Tasmanian Devil girl, stopped running and panted as she handed over the ticket she had fall into her hands.  "Sorry I'm late" Ephrael said as she was handed the ticket back and scooted up the ramp to catch the tail end of the captain's speech.

Recovered somewhat while listening to the Captain after her exertion to get to the airship on time, Ephrael moved in what could only really called bouncing over to one of the ushers to ask where her cabin was. As the usher directed her to the right deck (The economy single bed cabins, where she lucked out and managed to get one with a porthole) the Red headed girl had to reign in her larcenous instincts, reminding herself she was off on an adventure and that it would be a poor start to be thrown off the the airship for theft.

Unpacking her meager belongings, Ephrael changed into a simple orange dress (with a rather dangerously short skirt line), and set about exploring the economy deck, after securing her cabin.

[Kafzeil]

Side by side, Kafzeil and Eden made their way aboard the ship.  Eden couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was, to be blunt, a marvel. The blimp was huge, majestic,  a wonder of engineering and a symbol of luxury.

The ferret merely saw a deathtrap with a casino and a bar. He reached into his pocket, yanking out a flask. He popped the cork before downing the whole potion in a single gulp, wincing and shivering. It tasted foul, but he'd rather not lose his breakfast on the Captain's shoes.

"Come on, Kaf, lighten up!" Eden smirked as toothy smirk, patting her friend on the back. The Angel chuckled humorlessly at her.

"Yeah...locked up on glorified boat with a balloon filled with explosive gas strapped to it, and exposed to an allergen. This gonna be a blast..."He grumbled, crossing his arms.

Once inside the lounge, Eden darted off for the nearest window, Smiling as she placed her hand son the glass. She was certain she'd watch this thing take off, as Terra firma slowly vanished below them.

The ferret took a seat, watching the stage as the Captain came out to deliver his pre-voyage speech.  He chortled to himself, a grin creeping across his face.

"Man, I'd hate to see the other guy." He mused to himself, aloud but just under his breath, other patrons passing likely hearing him. Not that he cared.

As he felt the dampener, however, his grin vanished, wings twitching as the boilers fired on. It took a monumental effort for Kafzeil to avoid throwing himself up out of his chair and yelling "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" at the top of his lungs.He took a deep breath, lowered his wings, and stood up, attempting to calm himself, scanning the room for Eden.

She was still by the window, an immovable object for the time being.

He moved for the exit. He had to at least make sure the crew didn't screw up and lose his baggage.

[Tapewolf]

Lord Pettersohn boarded the airship with all the grace and dignity that a Clan emissary would show during negotiations.  Partly this was a front, but at the end of the day he had just secured a treaty for his Lord and master, so there was every reason to enjoy the perks and privileges of his rank.
It was still less than a year since he had been granted the title for his part in helping Daryil to ascend, and seeing people fawn was a novelty that had not quite worn off.  Nobility or not, things were not always safe for 'Cubi, so he kept his head-wings hidden for now, giving him the appearance of an Angel.

Ticket punched and captain's speech over, Jakob winced as the magic dampers came online.  It was annoying to have his powers interfered with like that, but most 'Cubi with any sense would usually put a lot of effort into functioning like Beings anyway, using their powers as a bonus rather than something they depended on absolutely.

He made his way to the cabin and looking in the mirror, decided to tone things down a little, not much.  He retained the expensive knee length boots and the tan leather trousers, but for his top he left only the shirt, discarding his cloak and other paraphernalia.  Then again... after a moment's thought he took the shirt off too, selecting a suitable top - one that covered only his front and left the wings unencumbered, while still retaining an aura of wealth.  If something did happen to the ship, the ability to glide would come in very handy.

Satisfied, he made his way down to the common room to see who else was on the flight.

[Angel]

A scrapper, they'd called him. A feisty one. The men had said it with such relish, like he was a horse that needed to be broken. The extra chains around his ankles and throat had come about when he decided that his usual peaceful ways weren't going to work and tried to bite them. They had enjoyed abusing him more than the others he had been trapped with, crammed into a tiny, dark room and fed meals that were a far cry from even his normal fare of carrion and dropped fruit. They had beaten him more often and bet on how long the scrawny lion could survive on the most meager rations they had. He had come out of his bag and crate with a snarl he could barely muster. His fiery plume of a mane was dingy and scruffier than usual, and under his dark fur, you could not only see his ribs, but count them. Kenyan knew nothing of what his captors were talking about, but at least when they left, the chains about his wrists, ankles and neck were removed. He purred with relief at that, though his orange eyes still burned.

And now, Kenyan noted, he could clearly look at the other victims for the first time. The light had bothered him for a moment, but he'd always adjusted quickly to new environments. The two gryphons who had spoken were the first to catch his eye. Good, he thought. Though he had never fully accepted his own heritage, he decided he'd have a better time with other leonine beings for now. That is, until he could find out whether this 'ship' had pests aboard.

Kenyan spoke up from his corner. "Why bother unchaining us?" he asked the room at large, his voice weak and thickly accented.  

(A/N: I have no idea how to spell Kenyan's accent phonetically. He should sound vaguely Hispanic or Eastern European by our standards.)

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Melodie managed to miss the Captain's speech by the expedient of already being in her room washing up. It was a working vacation for her and she'd already spent the hours before launch crawling around the casino areas checking equipment for tampering to the anti-cheating enchantments. When the magic damper came on she gave a shudder. This was why she avoided the gambling cruises; she hated the loss of half her magical strength, she needed her magic. While she was a dragon, with all the benefits that came with it, she was not the sort of dragon who carried around a bunch of weapons to deal with idiot adventurers who thought taking on a dragon made them badass. Or in this case what might be a group of irate crew members if she did indeed find out they were cheating the house by rigging the gambling equipment. Her second cousin's sister-in-law's fiance owned the air fleet and a bunch of family favors had been called to get someone to check why this ship's casinos weren't making the profit they were supposed to. Since the last two investigators had gone missing they wanted someone with the scary Icewing reputation to look into it. Mel felt that her grandparents were relying a little too much on family reputation to keep her safe. Large, overprotective brothers were much more efficient at safety and Barron would have enjoyed the trip.

Not that she could show that anyone was tampering with the casinos. The equipment all appeared to be fine. Now all she could do was stand around watching the games and hope she was in the right place to spot any abnormalities in the spellwork, if there were any to spot. Which left her in the unenviable position of spending twelve days standing around the casino watching other people gamble in the hopes that IF anyone was cheating they would be stupid enough to do it in front of the "enchantment specialist" the captain had oh-so-helpfully introduced to the crew.

Checking in the mirror one last time to make sure her blue silk afternoon dress was unwrinkled, her wings were shiny, and her fur wasn't standing up in funny directions Mel grabbed her purse and headed out to the main lounge.

[Lisky]

The large demon rather casually boarded the airship.  There was no fanfare, no entourage, no body-guards.  He didn't really need them now.  He stoop half a head taller than over half the guests without his impressive horns. He wore a bright green sleeveless and backless tunic. It was cuffed at the shoulder, and silver chord as accents.  His pants were simple, and of a color similar to his tunic.  His bright red wings were folded behind his back, and spoke volumes of his creature heritage, while the soft jingle of hair rings told of his movements.  His stride was confident, and filled with a predatory grace. 

Hours earlier his room had been loaded by a small cadre of servants who'd long since made their way back to Wolksheem Castle.  Leaving the young heir alone for his trip, with no way for his parents to keep an eye on him, nor interfere with whatever happened beyond his arrival to the airship.

He got perhaps halfway across the ballroom when he first caught sight of his fiery companion.  She was clad in a simple, elegant black dress. A slit down one side to show off her long, powerful legs, while the dress itself traveled down to her ankles.  The vixen grinned in a toothy smirk as Baseel approached.  He smiled politely in reply, took an over exaggerated bow, and took the seat next to her, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek he sat down to listen to the captain's speech. 

***************************************************************

Having arrived earlier than expected wasn't too much of a problem for Aleyna.  Her entourage quickly shuffled her belongings into their position to be loaded aboard the sky-ship. She was excited, an all expenses paid trip on one of the most exclusive means of luxury travel in furrae.  She'd be spending it with a former classmate, and long time friend.  A long time friend with benefits when the mood was there.

It wasn't exactly a secret that her and his parents had set this up to try and spark something.  They were certainly fond of each other, but it was more about the impulsiveness, the fight for power.  He was fun, something that most of the attempted suitors could never be.  They were too formal, too needy, or had expectations of holding a seat of power.  Being on top was a position that has to be earned, she mused.  Thoughts traveling to unfulfilled fantasies spawned during her time with him at the arcane academy.

She waited for a break in the chain of servants, and slipped aboard.  Finding a comfortable seat that put her back against a wall, and gave her a view of the deck, she sat slightly forwards and on the far side of the room.  She carefully crossed her legs, rested her elbows oh so daintily on the table, and did everything in her power to give off an uninterested, albeit haughty air, all the while still maintaining the sex appeal she'd always managed to maintain.

Her tail flickered eagerly as the ballroom started filling, and her ears twitched in excitement as she saw the wingtips and horns above several faces she couldn't care less about.  She had a hard time surpressing a snicker as he instinctively ducked slightly under the doorway, despite having a great deal of clearance for someone of his height.  The smirk on her face was obvious as she saw his dress outfit, he certainly had a slightly exotic allure to him, especially with that hair.  Her grin grew as drew closer. The gentle kiss was certainly a cute display of affection.

After tensing slightly, her ears flicked back and spread wide.  Her eyes bright as her smirk grew, and her voice tingled with bemusement "Hey hun.  It has been quite a long time since i've seen you dressing up to your social class.  Trying to impress all the girls, or did you get all handsome and classy just for me."

He grinned ear to ear, tail swishing, and wings twitching slightly while leaning in gently to reply, "And I don't think I've seen you dress this provocatively since one of those formal dances at the academy. I'm having an internal debate on whether you're trying to seduce me, or just get my guard down long enough to take the initiative."

She kissed him on the tip of the nose then purred, "Who's to say it's not a little of both."

************************************************


The captain appeared, gave his speech, then left the guests to do as they pleased.  The demon couple got up, and and seemed to rather comfortably latch together as they headed for the game-room.  Her arm wrapped around his lower back, hand resting on his hip, while his arm crossed atop her wings just behind her neck.  His hand softly squeezed then rubbed her far shoulder.

[Tezkat]

Freed of the terrible hood, Mateo blinked bloodshot blue eyes as he adjusted to the glare of the dim electric lamps. The dishevelled ocelot shivered slightly as he took in his surroundings, managing to look more like a frightened child then the independent young man he was supposed to be. Below the cruel iron collar, the neck of his black t-shirt was so badly torn that it hung off his right shoulder. Lines of dried vomit streaked down the cat-eared smiley face on its front. The whole room stank of sweat, puke, and hopelessness.

How long had it been since he was taken? Days? Weeks? He'd lost all track of time. It wasn't supposed to be like this! He was supposed to be settling down at his new school, starting classes, and... His parents! Oh gods... they must be worried sick by now. He'd promised to orb them the moment he arrived at the college.

The young feline glanced around at his fellow captives. Besides their chains and predicaments, they didn't seem to have much in common. Males. Females. All sorts of races and species. Some looked about his age. Some a lot older.

One of the Gryphons tried to crack a joke. And failed miserably. How could he joke at a time like this? The man at least looked like he was handling the situation better than most. He had the look of a warrior--big and strong. Probably not bad at magic, either, like most of his kind. But if their captors had defeated someone like that, what hope did someone like Mateo have? He was just a poor apprentice mage... No, not even that anymore. He rubbed his raw, blistered wrists and the cold metal that had locked them together.

If only he still had his magic! That might give him a chance. Or at least a glimmer of hope. But these horrible, horrible manacles had somehow stolen the magic from him. It wasn't quite like when he was Human, when his own flesh walled him off from the magic of the world. No, these bonds just made him feel empty inside, like the fire burning inside him since he was a cub had gone cold and dark. He couldn't even change form.

Mateo slumped to the floor with his back against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Who... who were those people? What do they want with us? We didn't do anything to them!"

[Aisha deCabre]

Jake figured at first that he would grow bored quite quickly, looking around the chamber.  It was still eerily quiet, save for the constant faraway thrumming of the ship's engines and murmuring amidst some of the slaves to others.  He quirked his ear around when he heard someone speak...the rather scruffy lion in the nearest corner.  Interesting accent, he mused.  Similar to Aisha's, but quite a bit deeper.  Wonder where he's from.

"A bit of mercy on their part, maybe?" he shrugged.  "It doesn't do anybody any good chained up."

As he passed by and heard the exchange, Willard spoke up; his voice was neutral in tone, and very matter-of-fact, showing that he indeed knew what he was talking about when it came to living in such conditions.  "S'less humane than ya think.  They just don't want any a' us ta break before we're of use.  For a long voyage, it's easy fer limbs to fall asleep or the weakest one's muscles to stop workin' entirely.  And the closer together we're all packed, the more likely we'll spread diseases 'round, accordin' to them.  Besides," he said while rapping his knuckles on the metallic wall, "Y'heard our good host.  There's no way out anyway, 'cept for if they decide to open that crack on the floor.  Better not to give 'em a good reason to."  As he said that, Willard narrowed his eyes toward the lion.  The gryphon knew most of the people here that traveled with him on the slave route...so he had seen this one, the way he put up a spirited but futile fight as they brought him here.  He wanted it to be clear right now...trouble would probably mean that everyone suffered the consequences.

Then, his head swiveled to another sound.  A young ocelot had slumped to the floor, scared and wide-eyed as he belted his question out.

"Don't matter what y' did to 'em, kid," he grumbled.  "If they got ya, yer here.  Maybe someone had it in for ya, tipped 'em off and sold ya out to th' slavers.  Whatever the reason, ain't nothin' to do but ride it out."

"Hey, do you have to scare him?" Jake objected.

Willard scowled.  "Sometimes it's th' only way to put sense into 'em," he muttered before continuing a small patrol along the chamber.

Jake shook his head at the rather blunt nature of the de-facto slave leader, and slumped to the floor himself; he was eager to rest his wings where the weights were putting strain on them.  Well, at least there was talking.

"So...might as well tell stories if we're stuck here," he said, nodding to the other two.  "How'd you get caught?"

*     *     *

Once she found her room, Aisha wasted little time in finding places to store her things.  She knew that it would be discouraged to carry her weaponry in the public areas...but she did keep the hidden sheath on her leg with the dagger on, just in case, as well as her hand wraps (even if the enchantments on them would be significantly weakened; a little fire is better than none in a pinch).  Her cloak was stored in the closet, and her sword and boomerang were set upon the bed.  Her cuffs too were weapons, but could pass as fancy jewelry.  She never did like dressing fancy, but with a golden choker necklace on and her hair let down and put up into a loose ponytail, the adventurer found herself at least a little presentable when looking in the mirror.  Like something short of a modest adventurer gypsy.

Besides, doesn't matter to me what a bunch of snobs think, she smirked.

Taking a small amount of coins from her pouch as she left the room, the panther pondered where she would go first.  Games?  She wasn't a gambler, and didn't wish to blow all of her money so soon...but a little fun never hurt.  Then there was the bar.  Could use a drink.  And maybe I can ask around to see if someone has seen a lost gryphon.

Satisfied with her decision, Aisha made her way down through the levels and the milling passengers to the refreshments.

[Boog]

The Flame of Freedom, Jeremiah thought, was a fine airship indeed, so long as he never looked out of any windows ever.
The frog adjusted the collar of his livery; he'd worn many uniforms in his time, most of which badly. He'd been told once, briefly, by someone silly enough to employ him as a security guard of all things, that he had a general demeanor and posture that could make a breastplate look like it needed a good ironing. Jeremiah had a grin that would make you assume there was dirt beneath his fingernails, and eyes that made one certain he needed a shave.
Heh, see the noblewoman over there? Half a treasury on the hem of her dress, nose in the air, never saw something so fine...
Remember your act, it is of vital importance. Pitch, candor, spacing of steps, everything precise and as planned.
Smellsnoisegirlpassingbyangeralchoholshineyslooklooklook-
Admittedly he COULD probably pay more attention to his appearance. There was a small sketchbook sticking out of the inner pocket of his jacket, one could have see the coiled wire holding it together sticking out near the line of buttons down his shirt.
Heheh, heehoo, hehAHAHAheek!
Focus. Remember, at all times, purpose. Remember the noblewoman's face, who the undead in the back speaks to, who the pretty young thing in the red dress dances with and who takes offense she doesn't. Everything is relevant, no information is useless.
Isn't it all so fine?
Fortunately, this all rather worked for his primary role on the Flame of Freedom. The serving staff was essentially all one and the same, yes, but in their department everyone had their place and specialty. He finally managed to get the collar of his livery just so, the perfect variant of half-buttoned carelessness. He stepped out from the corridor into the casino proper, whisked a deck out of his sleeve and began shuffling, taking his place behind a table where three cats, an undead and a dragon who looked like he could crowd the table all by himself had been waiting quasi-patiently.
All of you, hush. I'm working.
"Alright ladies and gentlemen." Jeremiah grinned at the assembled players, flipping cards from hand to hand as he shuffled. "Place your bets."

[Angel]

The ocelot boy in the corner earned a sympathetic look from Kenyan. As much as the lion resented his own treatment, this child was just barely beginning manhood. To be forced into such an awful fate at such a young age ... He had survived his own horrible childhood, but this boy had obviously never faced hardship until now. Kenyan could practically smell his fright and confusion.

He tilted his large, tufted ears up and then back when the first gryphon, Jake, answered his earlier question about the chains. He seriously doubted that being freed from their chains was an act of mercy. The response of the second gryphon, Willard, made much more sense. He had experience over the rest of them in this situation. He was acting as the group's alpha for now, and as such, had to be given respect. Kenyan looked down at the crack in the floor when it was pointed out. He didn't know much about the nuances used in Beings' language, but this was a clear warning. A brief pang of shame went through him at his earlier uncharacteristic behavior. He pulled his shirt closed and considered the warning in his own language. <They need to understand that I'm not a danger to them, otherwise they won't help me and I may never be able to escape.>

"I will not make trouble if they leave me alone," he answered Willard. "I fight when I have to. Only then." He absently licked a bit of dried blood out of his fur. It would attract flies if he left it.

Jake's question got his attention back. Kenyan glanced around and, finding few of the slaves willing to answer, decided to go first. He sighed, crouching and propping his elbows on his knees.

"There is not much to tell," he said sadly. "My name is Kenyan. I lived in the woods for ... a long time. Far longer than with my pride. I almost forgot them once. I thought my family had always been the pack. I did not even know what I was. I finally remembered my pride as a boy, but I know not if they remember me. I would have forgotten more, but..."

His face darkened. "There is danger in the woods. The people around them think that danger is me. I stay there to keep them safe, never to hurt them. When the men came, I told them in the animals' tongues to leave. I did not want them to die. But they had not come for sport. They had come for me. ... They chased after me, tied my neck and hands, and beat me to stop my noise. They told me that nobody outside the woods knew me. They wanted me because there was no danger in taking me. Not to them. I tried to fight my way out, but I have always fought to escape. Never to kill. Now my pack is alone, and the forest will never be safe. ...It might have been better to let the other dangers get them first." Kenyan paused, then shook his head and clenched his fists, as if trying to crush the violent thought in his grip.

[VAE]

So, let's see how the dumb and rich travel...

Habitually glancing around for signs of trouble,  and occasionally checking his belongings with the paw that wasn't carrying a suitcase, Vladim made his way through the crowds that surrounded the boarding terminal. Although he probably wouldn't admit it to anyone, the airship, terminal, and everything he has seen so far were impressive in both technology and fine craftsmanship - something that he wouldn't have ever dreamed of even during his short reign as the Generalissimus Eisenberg, Enlightened Autocrator of Serebryansk.
Pretty much every inside surface of the hall was plated with expensive wood, polished stone, or metal, the floor covered in carpeting, and even the ticket itself had writing composed of thin-drawn threads of solid gold, embedded into the silk paper, with a bunch of enchantments to prevent wear, element damage, or unauthorised tampering.
Most other passengers, the majority of them creatures, weren't lacking far behind in decoration - brimming with ornate weaponry, expensive clothing, and more often than not, servants carrying an obscene amount of luggage. As such, despite picking his newest robe, best cape, and obsessively removing every fleck of rust from his shoulderpads, Vladim's appearance still earned quite a number of sneers.
One particularly uninsightful demon even mistook him for a priest of some war deity, and offered to pay him for prayers requesting success of his family's most recent war effort.

Finally, the cue had reached him - having handed his ticket to a particularly bored-looking gazelle, Vladim boarded the mammoth ship. After a bit of a look-out, he managed to find to his cabin, deposited his trunk, and sat on the bed, shuffling for a bit just to check it out.
Bloody hell.. with every room like this, the fluff this ship has must have cost more than that subterranean  bunker complex... but, you know,  I could get used to this.
He made his way to the common room, and took a comfortable, safe place near a wall from where he could easily see most of the room.- important contracts already being born as businessmen and politicos talked incessantly and threw wide gestures, a few older creatures looking solemn sitting at their tables, a bored-looking adventurer, a demon with massive horns and his grinning mate, servants and personnel...
Soon enough after his arrival, he heard the voice of the captain - a scarred lupine demon in a naval uniform - deliver a surprisingly laconic  introductory speech.

". . . now"
The boilers and engines came on, surprisingly quietly for their size, and along with the d'Alembert force pushing him gently into the seat, the lynx felt a wave nausea combined with an odd feeling of lack or numbness - similar to the way his feet felt in the first months after the implant, except this time it wasn't a specific, identifiable body part.  He already had some encounters with magic dampers, but this one was made worse by floating up in the air - as a more-less dedicated earth mage, Vladim felt best with feet firmly on solid ground.
Bletch... almost forgot how bad this is. On the other paw, at least one thing that messes those pompous buggers more...with so much innate magic they must feel like amputees...
He slumped in the chair, waiting for the worst period to pass, and wondering about his chances if anything came up. Although his tentacles were quite a reliable weapon, especially against those unsuspecting , without magic it'd be trivial for one of the muscular brutes to chop him up like the meat for a pilaf.

Either way... anyone to stir up shit here would have to be suicidal...  and think of the bright side. With what you cashed now, even after paying for this trip... five-six more jobs like that and you can put the lot back together... And in the meantime, this place is pretty sweet too...  Time to rest, look at that thing with the spell ... and maybe find a new associate or two ...  Either way, something tells me this'll be a great holiday.

OOC: Edit - added two escapee words. Edit2 - polished the thought pattern down to make a little more sense. Had nothing to do for a few minutes, and it is the last post in the thread anyways.

[Tipod]

Thankfully, the shambling walk to his cabin was a short one. Blasted magic dampening nonsense. I built this body to avoid feeling like a cripple. Off went his pack as he pulled up a chair. Thinking time was now.

Perhaps he was getting upset over nothing. Surely there were all kinds of wholesome activities available for the old and enfeebled. Like, like...

Gambling.

That was it! Excitement, risk, arbitrated by honest dealers and all while you sat down like a vegetable, drinking fine spirits and eating hor d'oeuvres off the plates of passing showgirls. Granted those last two weren't things Terry could do anymore, but holding a martini glass in one hand while betting the house at five card stud sounded like far too much fun. Maybe he could even hob-knob with some of the rich and famous, get himself some business contacts--

He was already out the door, and it wasn't long until he arrived on the floor, a rack of chips in one hand and a considerably lighter wallet affixed to his belt. Now came reality.

...I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.

Okay, no big deal. Just learn by observation. His eyes wandered slowly, settling on a nearby blackjack table. Perfect. He approached carefully, though actually sitting down with the other players was a bit daunting. Was there enough room, especially with a dragon sitting down? Do you just sit anywhere? Did you have to wait a few turns? Do you tip the dealer 10% if you win?

All the while, he stood, waffling like some kind of child as he glanced between the amphibious dealer and his players.

[Tezkat]

"Slavers? That can't be right, can it? Slavery's been banned for years. It's a hanging offence. If we just let someone know we're here, they'll come for us. They'll rescue us. Right? Right?"

Mateo looked around for confirmation, but even as he said the words, he knew deep down that it was false hope. They had to be on one of those big, expensive sky ships he'd read about, literally out of reach of any provincial guards or courts. Nobody was coming for them. There would be no rescue.

"Who would have it in for me? I don't have any enemies. I'm just a..."

Were? Mateo's heart sank. Both Beings and Creatures distrusted, feared, even hated his kind. He'd been raised to be careful, to keep his true nature hidden from outsiders. If someone had uncovered his secret... One of the mages he beat out for the scholarship, perhaps? If he never showed up to claim it, it might go to another finalist. Would anyone sell him into slavery... for that? His parents had warned him that the outside world could be cruel and unfriendly. "Cuthroat" was the word Dad had used. He should've just stayed back in the village...

The village... his parents! Anyone who could find out about him would know about his parents, too. What if these slavers had come for them as well? Would anyone in the village still stand up for them after learning what they really were? Would they have been able to fight? Mom and Dad could be chained up in some stinking cargo hold like this one. Or already dead.

Visions of the worst case scenarios came crashing down on him. He almost wished for the disorientation of the nausea spells. At least those kept his mind off his predicament. Kept him from having to face reality. Being able to think about it was so much worse.

Mateo buried his head in his knees. No tears came, however. He'd already spent so much time collared and chained that those had dried up long ago.

[justacritic]

Hobbies had made a decision. The majority of the rich were scary. During the entire walk up to the common room he'd been sneered at, looked down upon, and given dirty looks. It was a rather unsettling experience either due to the snobbery over wealth or species. Still Hobbies listened to the general chatter and tried to decide what would be the most popular piece to perform. Fanning himself with his headwings he watched the people go by, studying the way they moved. It wasn't easy to move puppets in a realistic way, knowledge of a body's anatomy was essential towards success. Constant observation was done daily just to make sure placement of limbs matched what living breathing beings and creatures did everyday. Still the incubus wasn't stupid; he had his hands in his sleeves, ready to pull out the twins at the first hint of trouble.
   Watching the people pass by, demon couple holding hands, being fox still wearing a hat indoors, some of the staff serving the passengers, an expensively dressed wolf angel walking into the room, one of the better looking undead, gryphons bipedal and quadruped wandering around still Hobbies sat there trying to figure out tonight's performance.

[Lisky]

Aleyna was busy taking in everything.  Memorizing faces, watching outfits, and getting a general stance on where her and Baseel weighed in on the social ladder.  They certainly seemed to be less flaunting of their wealth and influence, especially when compared to the gaudy displays of jewelry and precious metals that adorn so many of the uniforms, gowns and formal attire that clad the colorful masses.  She wasn't really in the mood to gamble, and made her opinion obvious with a gentle tug on Baseel's arm.  Her move was simple, guide the pair towards the bar instead.  Get a few drinks, and perhaps meet someone of interest.

* * * * * *

The large canine demon was more wandering aimlessly with the lovely demoness.  He was just as curious as she seemed to be check out the space.  When she'd shown her choice of avoiding the games room, he was all to happy to oblige her. Pulling her chair out, and seating her before seating himself, Baseel waved to the bartender.

"Vodka martini for the lady" 

* * * *
"And he'll have a pint of mead with a triple sec bomb." 
She chimed in, "Though, i think we'll be getting a bit more adventurous with the drinks as the day progresses."

[Inumo]

The wood beneath Xyrtia's feet was some small comfort as the nausea spell wore off, at least until memories of home set in. She remembered the joy of flying over the treetops, the chill wind and thin air of altitude blowing through the blue and white feathers on her arms. Spotting an overgrown insect in the forest, swinging her rope dart and letting it loose into the carapace of the bug. Reeling herself in. Drawing her machete. Decapitating her tribe's next meal, and claiming a compound eye as her prize. All gone, her pinion feathers trimmed, her rope dart and machete taken long ago. Visions of her fiancee danced through her head: his ruby feathers, the way the black around his eyes always seemed to give him an air of charming mystery. Holding back tears, she leaned against the wall and felt at her breast for his courtship gift, a feather from his crest. It was still there. It was too much. She sat down and cried, clutching it tightly as her tears made clean streaks through the dirt on her face and fell into the rough sackcloth rags the slavers had given her for clothing, mixing with the dirt and dried vomit from the trip onto the ship.

After a long while, she stopped. Not for lack of sorrow, not for some shred of hope; she just couldn't cry any more. Tucking the sole heirloom of her past back beneath her breast feathers, she spotted the edge of some kind of tag, like one would put on a pet. Feeling at it, she discovered that someone had put a collar around her throat when she was unaware. The indignity of it all made no mark, though, not with all that had already happened. She did, however, want to know just what people had put on such a collar. Looking around, she spotted an ocelot further down the wall. Standing up, she started to walk over, then hesitated. Looking down at herself, she knew that she must look a sorry sight with her dirty feathers, emaciated body and filthy rags, but there was nothing to be done about it. Sighing, she walked over and poked the huddled figure with a clawed foot, realizing with a mild, detached shock that he was probably only barely of hunting age. "Hey, kid," she said in the language that she'd heard passing traders use as she sat down next to him. She hadn't learned much, and her tongue was clumsy around all those soft sounds, but she knew enough to get by. Gesturing at the collar, she finished, "Read this."

[Tapewolf]

Jakob noticed the fennec incubus, made plainly obvious by his headwings.  Interesting.  He decided it was worth talking to them.  Things might get a little frosty if there was a problem between their clans, but violence seemed unlikely.

"You don't look like the usual type to take a luxury liner," he began.  "No offence intended.  And, do those cause you much trouble?" he asked, flicking his eyes to the headwings and back.

[justacritic]

Hobbies looked up at the wolf angel that had just spoken to him. "Well I am one of the special entertainments for this flight, so I am granted some perks." Now that the incubus looked more closely at the angel, the face became more familiar. "As for these?" Hobbies touched his headwings. "They are more useful then most people expect." The fennec was sure that he had seen this person before, maybe somewhere in the news? "I'll be performing late in the night, so if you are not the type to sleep, the Flame of Freedom would welcome you to enjoy the show in the ship's theater. Though right now I'm not sure what would people of this class would really enjoy watching. You wouldn't have any idea, my good sir? Oh but I'm lacking in manners, my name is Hobbies Sven. May you have the pleasure of informing me to whom I am speaking to?"

[Tapewolf]

"Oh, I see!" Jakob said.  "This is not my usual crowd either, I'm afraid, so I don't have any suggestions.  However, I don't have any plans for tonight either, so I will certainly try to watch your performance if I can."  He shook the hands of the fennec.
"I am Lord Pettersohn, envoy to my Lord Daryil, though you may call me Jakob if you wish.  This vessel is perhaps a little ostentatious for my taste, but the return journey was booked for me by my Lord, who sometimes moves in very mysterious ways indeed.
"With the headwings... well, there are places still where the locals would take your head off, wings and all, before you could even ask the name of the village - and call it a job well done.  That's not likely to happen on the airship, but all the same, it strikes me as a little risky."

[Aisha deCabre]

Aisha idly flicked a few coins in the air as she took her time walking down to the lounge and bar.  As she entered, her eyes widened at the extravagance that even this place sported.  The bar itself was quite large, enough to hold two bartenders, and she was relieved to see some space between patrons at the seats there too.  The black jaguar was used to being crowded...didn't mean she had to like it.

She did pause however at the sight of the rather noticeable demons.  The adventurer bit back a sneer and went for a seat as far away from them as possible, feeling quite glad that she had brought her hidden weapons in case of trouble.  Although a part of her knew that it was more than enough misery to try causing trouble even for the strongest of Creatures on this ship, it was hard to suppress the surge of fiery adrenaline that stiffened her muscles out of rage at the sight of demons.  The possibility that the ship was perhaps captained by one didn't help her thought process.  But she had to be clear and level, for now.

"What may I get you, Miss?" the bartender on that end, a stately-looking white ferret, inquired as soon as the panthress was noticed and had finished making drinks for the ones before her.

"Ale, if you please, señor," she answered in her light accent, reminiscent of the south-western provinces.  "And if you can, add a little strawberry flavoring," she added, remembering the specialty of the inn nearest her home.

"Coming up," the ferret said in a rather perky tone.

As he filled a tall glass and passed it on to her with a stylish flourish, she nodded her thanks.  "By the way, you haven't perhaps seen a friend of mine around?  Tall gryphon, black feathers, goes by the name Jake."

The ferret thought a moment, then shook his head.  "I haven't seen a gryphon like that here yet, Madam, but I shall keep an eye out."

"My thanks." Figured, she sighed into her drink and tossed a few coins his way.  Well, my best bet I suppose is to keep questioning the ship's employees.  Bound to be someone who's seen him.

*     *     *

Back down in the furthest bowels, Jake had listened to Kenyan's story with honest fascination.  At least it had been a fair distraction from the other voices, the crying and despair wrought from the ocelot boy (whom the gryphon had figured was too in shock to speak about his own capture, if much anymore).  He decided to leave him alone; a kindly-looking young cardinal woman had come up to his side anyway.

"You probably couldn't have known what would happen," Jake offered the young lynx-lion.  "It's a saddening situation though; I'm sorry to hear it.  Me, I caused them some trouble while they were trying to buy slaves at a village."  He flexed his talon-hand and peered at the manacle on his wrist.  "It was probably more trouble than I could handle.  I feel too vulnerable without my halberd.  Honestly..." he looked around and settled his eyes back upon the ocelot, "Why would they do this?  Ruin innocent lives?"

"Fer the good people on this here airship?  Yer all probably gonna be trained to be their fightin' force, like I was, against terrorists.  Suicide fighters.  Another sort o' profit for 'em, basically meat shields," Willard answered from nearby.  "Doesn't matter if they could be hanged for it here.  If a slaver can live high, there'll be ways t'do it."  He sighed, eyes moving back toward the youngest of the group...far too many of them here.  "I hate it too, but, s'all pointless.  There's nothin' to do about it now.  Everybody here is more n' likely drafted."

"...Oh, we'll see about that," the Knight-Captain muttered.

Willard narrowed his eyes at the other gryphon.  Another spirited one.

Maybe that's what they need, if an escape attempt is possible.

[SquirrelWizard]

The trip boarding the ship was relatively uneventful for Evan. Having only paused briefly to listen to the Captain's speech, he had continued on to find his room. Tossing his bag onto the bed, and changing into a nicer set of clothing, he paused to check himself in the mirror, preening his tail. Satisfied, he strapped Razor back onto his hip, the short little blade had become an extension of him, and he felt naked without it. He had caught a glimpse of some other weaponry on board, their sizes had ranged from small, to functional, to "this better be a cultural thing, or else compensation jokes will be made." Evan felt that he and the blade mirrored each other. Razor, like he, didn't look like much; no curves, no jagged edges, no runic scrawl etched into the blade. This unassuming facade hid a blade with a wicked bite. Between the blade and his magic, he felt like he could take on the world.

He had entered the casino of the ship, and found himself surrounded by a sea of dubious characters. Not sure where the person who was to meet him was in this mess, Evan found a table off to the side by himself and sat down, relaxed, and waited.

[justacritic]

The Fennec's ears perked up when Jakob mentioned Daryil's name. "Ah, so you work for the Lord Daryil then! We of Clan G'ian owe so much to the Daryil clan leader." especially our clan leader... literally The incubus thought to himself. "We're expected to be as helpful as possible to any of Daryil clan members or allies. So if there is any particular theater piece you desire to see or any other way I am able to make this trip more pleasant for you, please let me know." Hobbies began to scratch at his hair. "Also we're a more urban clan, we rarely have anything to do with those more intolerant villages. Even then some of my uncles and aunts are called in to provide some diplomatic negotiation if there is trouble." Hobbies then looked up "I think that they stopped filling that fishing village's houses with muffins by now..."

[VAE]

After a while, the airship entered a period of steady motion.
Vladim felt a wave of relief as his nervous system finally got the idea that neither the magic dampers, nor the gentle movements of the airship are going to disappear any time soon.
He slowly rose from the chair, straightened up the robe, and set off towards the bar with the intent of aiding the recovery process.
Now, how did Dad say it? 'In small amounts a cure, in large volume a medicine'. I guess that made our house a pharmacy.

The service was almost uncannily fast, and if the magic suppressors weren't in place, he'd have bet the barman to use prestidigitation spells, mixing the cocktails for what looked like an angel and his concubine, both dressed in colourful traditional dresses of the north-east. He watched the colourful liquids flow, his precise paw motions, the shaker barely held by a single digit at times...
"What's your order?"
"Oh. Give me some plum brandy - gotta burn out the worm."
He passed a few coins across,  and emptied the shot glass almost as soon as the barman handed it to him. The brandy was strong enough, yet surprisingly smooth, with a strong flavour of plum kernels, and left a pleasant warmness in his cramped stomach.
"And one into the other leg..."
Vladim repeated the process ,this time taking care to smell the drink before gulping it down, and moved out of the line, propping himself up on the bar with one paw, and glancing around.
That helped.... Now, let's look at how to kill an afternoon like this.

[Kafzeil]

His baggage checked, and not a single thing missing, Kafzeil scanned over his room. First Class, Roomy, well furnished with velvet curtains, a massive, soft bed, private bathroom...

...and huge windows overlooking the vast country side.

The angel closed the curtains, sighing, trying to settle his nerves.

A Pint. That usually did the trick. Usually.

Exiting the room, Kafeil made his way down to the bar, looking over some of the patrons.

Demon couple, could be fun to watch...that lynx looks like he just walked out of a damn pulp magazine. I mean, gods, the spikes are such a cliche.

Not that I fit in much better. Some asshole asked if I was attending a funeral. Though I really don't see the appeal of jewelry, unless it's enchanted. Might as well scream "ROB ME".

Kafzeil took a seat next to a blue-clad panther, briefly looking over her. Someone else stuck out on this ship. He reached into his pocket and  slammed a bill on the counter.

"Pint of Imperial Stout, please." Kafzeil grumbled.
*****
Eden pulled herself away from the window, fully satisfied.

Holy shit on a stick, this thing is AWESOME She thought, grinning to herself. She hadn't really noticed the magic dampening that much.

Eden decided she'd explore the ship for a bit. Maybe meet some new people, see what this awesome, awesome ship had to offer for fun,  go to her room. So much to do, so little time!

Maybe she could even badger one of the employees to let her see the command deck or even the engines. She'd love to see how this thing worked.

[Tapewolf]

"Very gracious of you," Jakob said to Hobbies, with a smile.  "And yes, perhaps I am being a little over-cautious myself, but life is long and it would be a crying waste to have it shortened.  In any case, once your wings are out you can't make everyone forget they were there.  Not without damaging them, anyway.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm not sure you mentioned what branch of theatre you actually perform.  If it is just you, I would say a stand-up routine, perhaps a musician."

[justacritic]

"No, nothing like that" Hobbies smiled. He let two bundles fall from his sleeves and with clinking of joints, the twins "Sunset" and "Moonrise" stood at attention. "I'm a puppeteer, good enough to not have to perform with a troupe. I wonder sir if you are interested in mechanics." Hobbies shifted some of his fingers and "Sunset" bowed while "Moonrise" curtseyed. "If so I believe you might find my performances to be an enjoyable experience."
   "You'll also be surprised, people stop twice before attacking us with all our wings fully out. At the very least they ask us to leave, because they respect a little someone who's that brave or stupid." He looked to the side. "Granted it doesn't really work with adventurers, hesitating is rather a lethal trait to have in their profession."