Wicked Idea

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way to Shu-Fen [LOG]

Summary: Dinah, Cyrus, Molly and Gilgamesh sail out of Amber's waters, heading towards Shu-Fen. They run into a less than friendly inhabitant of the seas.


The Ten of Swords
    This is the deck of a two-masted caravel. She flies no flag and is emblazoned with no crest. Her lateen sails are a deep crimson. She is     built from dark brown wood which, upon close inspection is revealed to have subtle golden striations in it like a catseye gem.                  
    The wheelhouse is compact and offset to the starboard side. This ship is designed for speed and for operating in shallow waters.
               
                                                                             
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Classic

My Dearest Commodore

Written in a flowing feminine hand, on fine parchment in deep blue ink. The envelope is sealed by golden wax, and addressed to the Commodore of Cameron

My Dear Commodore,

I regret to inform you that things in Amber have not gone very smoothly. The Fleet has yet to see action, though I hope that will be corrected in short order.

I was requested by one Prince Random of Amber, speaking (likely) on the behalf of His Royal Bastardness Majesty King Corwin I of Amber, for an official document declaring me as the Ambassador selected by Minos to represent her interests within Amber. I would appreciate this letter as soon as you're able. It would not hurt if it looked impressive. Or if you got the others to sign it as well. I can handle the retrieval of Commodore Deadeye's seal, myself.

On a more personal note, your grandson, Peril, seems to be making good for himself within Amber. I'll keep an eye out, as requested.

I will be returning to Manzanil, briefly, for a family engagement. I hope to stop by your own port, along the way back.

May the winds and tides be to your liking.

--Captain Discordia
  • Current Mood
    contemplative contemplative
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Wicked Idea

A Random Conversation

There's a call from the pier that the Golden Apple is moored at. A short, scrawny figure yells up, "Captain on board?"

"Aye, Discordia on deck!", calls out one of the crewmen. Dinah, herself, is just emerging from her quarters.

Random calls, "I've got permission to come board, right?"

Dinah peers over the rail, and to Random. There's a pause for consideration, before, "Aye, Permission granted!," is called out. Her voice carries quite well, without being booming.

Random comes aboard, without fanfare. He looks casually at ease, as he heads Dinah's way. A nod of greeting. "Captain." His gaze goes over her, assessingly . Probably, from its sharp contemplativeness, considering the state of her health, rather than imagining what she looks like naked.

Dinah rests one hand on her hip, casually, her own gaze raking over Random slowly. More measuring than anything. She looks the picture of health, right down to the glow of her skin. "Highness," she greets with her own nod. "What do I owe the distinct pleasure to?"

Random leans against the railing, still casual. "Just coming by." A quick grin. He is otherwise poker-faced, offering little hint as to his real purpose, so far. "Nice day, huh?"

Dinah doesn't look like she's truly buying it, but seems willing to play along. Her expression is borderline professional, even. "Yes, the weather here has been nice, as of late."
 
Random nods. "Guess you're staying a while, huh?" He slouches further against the rail. "Been meaning to ask you about this ambassador thing," he says. "I hear it is an elected post."

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Wicked Idea

In Which A Warrant Is Served

Cyrus exits the Mead Hall on Dinah's arm. He is smiling and seems quite determined about reaching his destination.

Malachi has just come within sight of the mead hall, and raises a hand in greeting as he sees Cyrus and Dinah, his pace brisk.

Dinah laughs at something murmured by Cyrus, a smile on her own lips. She returns Malachi's greeting, fingers waggling towards the man.

Connor's bootsteps and the similar steps of the half dozen men flanking him precedes him, flat slaps on hard stone. They have truncheons in hand, and have the look of serious business about them. They're vectoring in on the mead hall, but as the couple departs, the commander makes a hand gesture and the men spread out, the wedge headed directly for Cyrus and Dinah. Sharp eyes may note a few more Gulls taking up positions off the street.

Cyrus's smile drops as he notices the movement around the street. His hand falls on his sword hilt but he does not draw.

Malachi notes the Gulls, and changes neither direction nor expression as he continues towards the pair.

To Cyrus, Dinah's laughter dies in her throat, and her expression falls. The hand that had been used to hail Malachi drops to the hilt of her scimitar, and her other arm untwines from Cyrus's. "I have a bad feeling about this, dear."

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