For the Horderacht has started at Outside Arx - Mourning Isles near Redreef Shores - Amberjil Island.

Maya checks intellect and investigation at normal. Maya is marginally successful.

Norah checks intellect and investigation at normal. Norah is successful.

Helewise checks intellect at normal. Helewise is marginally successful.


Arriving at Amberjil Island isn't the problem. Presumably, the two ships that arrive -- the Redreef one and the Eswynd one -- don't go for the ad hoc beachside docks that have been assembled, and which are guarded by mercenary soldiers. Spied from afar -- or maybe up close, if people want to get in up close -- these soldiers don't seem like much. They have swords and pikes of regular and unassuming steel, and their armor is equally unassuming leather. Their tactical advantage really seems to be that they have working vision, and (one imagines) the ability to call for help if something unexpected turns up.

Amberjil is ringed almost entirely by beach, and those beaches give way to dense forest that makes up the rest of the island. The journey from any given point of landing to the center of the forest is a short one, owing to the small size of the island. Aside from the soldiers at the docks on the island's southern end, the beaches are empty but for a few dead Horderachts left to rot on the island's eastern edge, stripped of their gear unless they died unarmed and butt naked.

Azova tends to stand out like a sore thumb no matter what time of day it is, given the mostly stark white of her armor. But it doesn't stop her first from pausing as soon as her feet hit the beach, head tilted just slightly to the side like she's listening for something, before her gaze turns first towards the forested area of the Island with a sharp gaze. And then, to the stripped bodies of the dead Horderacht. "I think..." she says slowly, but quietly, making a show of looking over those dead bodies at the injuries that were inflicted. "... that this was probably a difficult fight. I have no doubt there are several injured among the mercenaries. You might consider bartering my skill as a healer as leverage. But you may have to make a show of 'not allowing me' to see to any injuries. They will know I'm a Mercy."

The whole of the journey has seen Lady Maya turning parchment into boats. She's not a seasoned sailor (and they have people for that beside) nor is she a soldier. She's here with books and notes and an open mind. A backpack -full- of such things, in fact. Plus, maybe, well, a couple super basic tools of the medicinal trade. She is learning to do that, after all.

But the plethora of writing supplies meant folding paper into boats to set adrift in the wake of their own ship. And providing paper to others who wish to do the same! Maya knows that sharing is caring.

When it comes to 'how to proceed:' well, she's there to (hopefully, presumably, doubtfully) pull out the right book at the right time with the answer they need. Not punch things.

Haakon had guided the Eswynd ship near enough to the Redreef to converse before landing: "You lot want to give the fuckers a chance to piss off with their skins intact, or we breaking their spines as a fare-thee-well?"


There are three dead Horderacht that Azova inspects. One of them has numerous slash wounds but died from one of them being to the side of his neck. One of them was felled by an arrow between the eyes -- the arrow itself, since retrieved. One of them was simply torn nearly in half by what one imagines was some manner of axe.

The good lady Helewise did not do a lot of moving around. She sat for most of the journey. During a particularly heavy swell she stood in a centerline of the boat and did what appears to be squats or perhaps some sort of balance exercise, but this may have just been to avoid the humors clotting in her legs. And then of course she pulled up the mail as they drew near to shore, having not wanted the weight in case they founder. As she swings up her stout warhammer over one shoulder, she says to Maya, not unkindly, "You may wish to carry a shield, my good lady."

"I would say it is always wise to present the chance for surrender, my lord," Helewise tells Haakon, since he asked. "If you would prefer not, twould be better to leave no one to say that we did not."

Haakon eyes Helewise with a dry sniff. "Have found folk tend to surrender more readily once they've had a good boot to the balls, but so be it, we can start civilized."

Norah turns to Haakon. "I say we give them a chance to 'piss off' on their own terms, unless you think they're unlikely to do so," she opines, gingerly stepping from the boat and trying (and failing) not to get her shoes wet. She averts her gaze politely from the bodies -- not to preserve her sensibilities, but rather to try and preserve the dignity of the dead.

Azova checks perception at normal. Azova is successful.

Maya checks perception at normal. Botch! Maya is simply outclassed. This is monumentally beyond them and the result is ruinous.

Haakon checks perception and survival at normal. Haakon is successful.

Norah checks perception at normal. Norah is successful.

Helewise checks perception and survival at normal. Helewise is marginally successful.


As the group disembarks and gets their bearings, the sounds of the mercenary camp become a bit obvious -- if one isn't distracted by something else, of course. There's chatter and laughter loud enough to carry, coming from about a half-mile into the woods, near the island's center. The path in through the trees -- which isn't really a 'path' so much as just 'walking into the forest' -- doesn't appear to be booby-trapped.

Haakon leaves the crew at the longship, bringing only a quartet of Eswynd warriors with them when they go ashore: two shield bearers with Norah, and two reavers with himself. The remainder stay at the landing point, with orders to sound a horn if they're approached. And they're NOT to steal the ships at the mercenary docks until he gets back! Shield in his right hand, harpoon in his left, Haakon opines to Norah, "I don't think they'll listen, but I've been wrong before. Can at least find out what they want here, by talking. That's not nothing." A deeply drawn breath. "Approach the camp, hail the guard and call for an officer, then?"

"If we're lucky, we'll find someone on patrol," Helewise opines, moving along with the others. "That always helps the conversation when you have a hostage, really."

"I do not think I could carry a shield," Maya tells her cousin simply. Instead, she points to those that do have armor, shields, and pointy things. "I will let you go first." ANd so she does, settling behind the meatsh- er, people properly able to handle any blows aimed their way.

Norah nods to Haakon. "I can approach. I am distinctly nonthreatening to the uninitiated," she says dryly. Helewise gets a glance. "If you can find one, it would make compelling collateral," she says, calculated and thoughtful.

Having spoken her piece, Azova is content to follow behind the others. Occasionally, her gaze will sweep across the landscape just to make sure she hasn't missed anything important. Otherwise, she'll let the martial minded do their thing. Local flora is also acutely paid attention to. Just in case anything useful is there to be found.

Azova checks perception at hard. Azova marginally fails.

Maya checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Maya marginally fails.


The local flora isn't very interesting to someone already familiar with the flora surrounding Darkwater Isle -- there doesn't seem to be anything here that isn't commonplace elsewhere in the region as well. Azova might hear the rustle of a branch up and to the left, but sees nothing -- and some birds squawking nearby really seems to solve that mystery.

Except a few seconds later, Maya's position as last in line works against her, when someone drops out of a tree. A dark-skinned woman with long black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, the woman is wearing high quality leather armor and carrying a sword made of gleaming, well-forged steel. When the woman reaches out for Maya, the Redreef Lady might have had a better chance of getting away if not for the sheer fact that this strange woman dropped down and came forward from Maya's blind side. In a moment, Maya is pulled in with a strong grip around her waist, and the blade is held to the platinum-haired Redreef's throat.

"I quite agree," the swordswoman says, "having a hostage /does/ help quite a bit."

At the sound of that voice, Norah turns sharply. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she says in steady, crisp tones. "If you ever wish to find work in the Isles again. And I do expect you wish to find work in the Isles again, yes?"


Helewise turns her head sharply and her expression darkens rapidly, probably planning a strongly worded letter and/or skull destruction. However, she does not respond to the blonde's jibe, not just yet. Her eyes cut towards Haakon briefly.


Haakon turns a look back alongside Norah. He sniffs sharply. "Fuck finding work. If you want to *live*," he adds to the Marquessa's appeal. His head tilts to a curious angle as he hefts his harpoon at the balance point, and visibly gauging whether he could hit the mercenary without going *through* poor Maya.

Azova turns sharply at the sound, first studying Maya to be sure she remains relatively unharmed; the quick visual inspection soon turning to her captor. This time her gaze lingers, waiting to see if there's any sign of old injury that can possibly be exploited.


Helewise also does not respond to the dark woman's jibes. Not responding to Maya's jibes is easy. "Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding," she offers with a tone sort of like a blacksmith's file. "Loose our dear Maya and speak your peace, perhaps?"


Maya checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Maya fails.

Can screams cause damage because Maya -shrieks- right in her captor's ear. It's like a little snap back in the primative part of the brain and the woman (who is, actually, usually quite composed if a little anxious and nervous in general) goes into a full-on -panic- at the woman who has captured her. "LETMEGO LETMEGO" and simply flails both in an attempt to break free and to claw at Pacifica.

Maybe she'll be lucky and be deemed 'more trouble than she's worth.'

Haakon checks perception and war at normal. Haakon marginally fails.

Norah checks perception at normal. Norah is successful.

Azova checks perception at normal. Azova is successful.

Helewise checks perception at normal. Helewise is successful.


Pacifica's nose wrinkles -- not at the threats, but at Maya screeching so loudly. It's hard to look tough and cool when your captive has just shaved off a small range of the frequencies your ears can detect. "...there's war coming in the Isles," the woman says, reaffirming her grip on the captured Redreef. "Where there's war, there's work~."

What some of the group will notice in this tense standoff is that the sounds of the chatter and laughter from the camp are no longer audible -- as in, they've stopped. Admittedly, it might be hard to hear over Maya's screaming.

"But speaking like you can blacklist us? That sounds like silk talk to me," the swordswoman says, keeping her sword held close to Maya's throat. She doesn't even poke her face out from behind Maya, so committed is she to using the noblewoman as a human shield. "Now, I ask... what are a bunch of silks doing /here/?"

"Work there may be, but not here. Not for you. Not if you don't let her go." Norah clasps her hands in front of her serenely. "Silks we are. I certainly never pretended to be anything but. An Isles girl, I take it? Where are you from?"


Helewise shifts herself - not towards Maya, who is at significant risk of a permanent silencing and bloodletting - but as if she is making her armor sit better. Which also turns her body a few degrees, to let her glance 'more towards the camp'. Otherwise she remains silent for now.


"Lady Maya." I mean, now that they've been outed as silks, there's little point in leaving off the titles. Or perhaps a bit of normalcy in these rather abnormal circumstances is what Azova's aiming for. "You're going to be alright. She's too smart not to realize she'll be cut down if any harm comes to you. And I doubt she wants that. Even mercenaries can be reasonable and rational." she says calmly, reaching for the pendant around her neck. "Lagoma's love surrounds you; and with that, you can be calm through anything." Really, it's the tone of her voice and not her words she's hoping gets through.

Haakon mutters on the heels of Norah's appeal to the mercenary, "Could take her arm, if you need me to." He doesn't whisper the words, nor does he make any effort for them to be heard. If the tree dropping sword bearing mercenary has hearing left, she might pick the words out.

Maya checks composure at normal. Maya is marginally successful.

The initial wave of panic ebbs off and though Maya is still very much on the verge of hyperventilating, good eye wide (the other, blind one partially visible; the cloth kept over it pulled awry in the fracas). She still squirms, but she can't help that- really, she can't. Sure, the panic didn't -help- but at least it's a step above just swooning in fright.

Then again, maybe being a dead weight in her captor's arms would help. She winks (super awkwardly because she has only the one good eye; it could easily be misinterpreted as a blink) and feigns fainting.


"And then Safir would take you, my friend, and you would never see him coming." It's a Lycene voice, coming up from behind the group. Feirefiz, a mustachioed man who's still strong as he enters middle age, with much more stylish leathers than Pacifica, has a great axe slung on his shoulders. He's addressing Haakon directly, and winks to the Eswynd Lord. Then Feirefiz looks to Maya in Pacifica's arms: "...what is she doing?"

Pacifica frowns, keeping Maya held up despite her going limp. "I don't know," she says. "But I should thank her for summoning you." Pacifica then answers Norah's question: "An Isles girl, indeed. Except thralldom didn't suit me much. The upside is that after that, there's little that scares me. Feirefiz. Is Martinique coming?"

"Marti's on her way, Pacifica," Feirefiz says, not yet readying his axe, still keeping it almost lazily draped on his shoulder. He looks Helewise up and down and blows her a kiss.

Azova is definitely relieved that Maya has calmed a little, since at least the lack of squirming will help with no accidental injuries. But even she looks puzzled at the blink.. or wink? or whatever that was that the other woman just did. And from there, she will just look over the newcomer with the same assessing gaze she gave Pacifica, hands clasped in front of herself calmly. She /has/ a weapon sheathed in her belt. But also appears to have no intention of arming herself with it just yet.


"Fresh," Helewise answers Feirefiz a second after the blown kiss. After all, it would have had to impact. Her left eyebrow has arched sharply in reply. Her attention turns forwards, and she states: "Very little. You may have pressed the humors, or terrified her, perhaps."

Maya is totally, absolutely unconscious. She fainted afterall. Don't mind the little *poof* of breath to get an itchy strand of hair out of her face.

Haakon snorts once at the axeman. "Safir would join a long line of dead men in thinking so." Marti is coming? "Good, wasted too much time here, already."

"Well, you have one last chance to reconsider. My threats don't seem to impress you, but I hope this crazy motherfucker does," Norah says, gesturing to Haakon with one steady hand, the rare profanity absolutely at odds with her crisp, genteel affect. "Believe me, I know my share of crazy motherfuckers, and this motherfucker is the craziest."


Feirefiz actually snorts at some private joke when Norah speaks of 'crazy motherfuckers.'

"Let me make something clear," comes another voice -- a woman's voice, with an accent that could very accurately be pegged as 'deep Oathlands.' Blonde and severe-looking, she approaches from behind Feirefiz. On her head is a wreath made of what appear to be finger-bones -- they're not fresh, but they're grimy-looking enough that the blood was probably not washed off of them when this crown was assembled. Beyond that, she wears high-end leathers, including a long duster, and a few garlands of shark teeth. In one of her hands is a dagger, which she spins and twirls deftly.

"/This/," the woman who must be Mad Martinique Barlinnie says, holding up the dagger as she continues to twirl it, "is the greatest weapon ever made. The Blancbier misericorde. One point, two edges... more than enough to kill anything that moves." Martinique seems to almost be compulsively doing knife tricks, keeping the blade whirling around in her hand, switching it from one hand to the other -- though this may well be to keep people guessing as to when she might strike.

"I am General Martinique Barlinnie. You've met Feirefiz Wolfmann, and Pacifica Harlingen. Safir Charlock has met you, though you don't know it yet. What brings you to my island?"

Haakon groans aloud, "Fucking prattling Mainlanders," he snorts as Mad Martinique brags of her perfect weapon. "Aye, it's a fine looking knife. I'll know who to call if I need carve a block of cheese. As for 'your island' you may want pick another isle to rule. This one's small, shit, and for some cause the Redreef wants it."

"I'd just like to note that I'm aware of at least one mainlander who doesn't prattle." Azova murmurs. You know, as an aside. To Haakon.

Haakon glances back at Azova, muttering, "For true? Which one?"

Maya has a crick in her neck. She's still playing her part. Isn't she grand? Someone should cast her in a play. But she breaks part briefly (maybe no one is looking!) to tilt her head left and right just a weeee bit.

"Truly. Lord Reve Halfshav. I swear, he doesn't prattle at all." Azova pauses, just for a moment. "Nope, can't think of a time." As if this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having.


"I would appreciate it greatly if you would grant me custody of her," says Helewise to Pacifica, quietly. "This will render both of us harmless, and thus to your advantage, and I fear she will perish in these contortions."

She gives Feirefiz another long disapproving glance. Is that a meaningful disapproving glance? Who can say.



When Maya tilts her head, Pacifica brings up the sword to touch the flat of it to the Redreef woman's chin. "Easy, now," Pacifica says softly toward Maya: "We don't want your nice clothes getting wet." Pacifica's eyes then turn toward Helewise. "Sure. It seems like a fair fight now... though..." And then Pacifica leans in and whispers something into Maya's ear, inaudible to the others, before releasing her grip and booting her in the butt toward Helewise.

Mad Martinique lifts her chin as she regards Haakon and listens to the man's words, looking down her nose at him despite his size advantage. "/Redreef/ wants it?" she asks, squinting. "Is that who sent you here? Because you certainly didn't come from Horderacht. So you're here on behalf of House Redreef to do... what? Take back the island? Well, you could make a go of it, my Lord. Certainly. Or you could do the smart thing, and negotiate. We're reasonable people, are we not, Messere Wolfmann?"

"We're humble businesspeople," Feirefiz says, smirking at Helewise as he says it.

Azova makes a point of looking Maya over to be sure she's unharmed, even if it's from arm's length so she doesn't cause any jumpiness should she move from the spot she already occupies. There's a definite squint given at the word 'reasonable' while her gaze lingers on the fingerbone crown that Martinique wears, and it's followed by two raised eyebrows. But, not a peep. Maybe a snort, but definitely not a peep.

"What if we hired you?" Norah asks, tilting her chin up slightly. "If you leave this island and never return, we will hire you to fight with our forces in the upcoming war, then you can take over some other island. I don't care, it won't be my problem anymore as long as it's not within my borders."

It's actually -before- the boot that Maya squeaks in surprise and with it, she goes stumbling into the dirt. The blonde doesn't rush to her feet and instead spends a moment righting the cloth over her bad eye. She looks back toward Pacifica with a look that shows more actual fear than anything else yet. When the young woman does get to her feet, she scurries over towards Helewise to stand riiiiight behind her cousin's shoulder. Realizing Azova is lookingg her over, she gives the Darkwater a little bobbing nod that says 'I'm fine! ...probably.'


Helewise embraces Maya, murmurs to her, "good work," and then says - while her arms are clearly occupied, and indirectly she is shielded by Maya's body - "If I may ask a question in naievete: Why do you seek this island? Residence alone? A bastion? An interest, perhaps, in gathering eels and cockles?"


Haakon rolls one shoulder in a slow shrug when the Oathlander asks what Redreef wants with the isle. "I don't give a bucket of another man's shit why. How many bodies you command? A hundred? However many it's not enough." Then Norah makes a much more valid appeal, and the reaver goes quiet, but his eyes keep moving.


Martinique continues staring down Haakon, and continues playing with her knife. She spins it so quickly that it almost makes little wh-wh-wh noises.

Meanwhile, Pacifica watches Maya for a long moment with some sort of malevolent gleam in her eyes.

Helewise's question is answered by Feirefiz: "Location, location, location, my good Lady~."

"In so many words," Martinique adds, looking from Haakon to Helewise. "This isle is positioned near several major routes of traffic through the southern Isles. When war breaks out -- and war /will/ break out, and soon, my Lady -- this isle will situate my company nicely to deploy to any number of skirmishes around the southern Isles... for whichever side wishes to pay."

It's payment, though, that has Martinique eyeing Norah next. "If you're with Redreef, that means you're against Sungreet, yes? Pacifica will be pleased to hear that, I'm sure. She wasn't relishing the possibility of working for their side. What would be more valuable to us than silver, though, is a base camp. I would be inclined to sell our services at quite a discount, if we are able to receive a charter to set up shop somewhere."

Azova steps right in between Pacifica and Maya (unless someone stops her) and stares back at the mercenary as if daring her to threaten the way she obviously did to the Lady Redreef. Attempting to obscure the line of sight between the two. "Really?" she murmurs, clucking her tongue in disappointment.

Haakon states in a flat voice, "You've two ships at anchor. One is shit, most like you took it from the Shavs. Which means you and yours all arrived here in the other. Which would mean fifty bodies, a good number of which are filled out by the empty helms you've got holding spears. You think that commands a charter." Aside to Norah, he mutters more.

"Do not forget their injured." Azova pipes up, in a confident tone. "They most definitely have wounded. Some of which will not survive without treatment." she adds, in a solemn tone befitting a Mercy. "And the rest of them - well, who knows how well they can battle depending on the severity of their injuries."


Pacifica goes from looking at Maya to looking at Azova -- more like studying her for a long moment, as though trying to read words written on the inside of Azova's skin.

Azova checks composure at normal. Azova marginally fails.

It was good work, wasn't it! "Thank you," Maya says to Helewise in a thin sort of voice. Thin because she realizes Pacifica is staring at her and she's trying to inch a bit further behind her cousin. When Azova steps in the way, she sags with relief and breaths out a lengthy sigh. Only then she looks out toward the other mercenaries around them.


"I see," Helewise answers. She shifts Maya to stand upright if she wishes. "Then you seek a charter. And you are willing to provide services at a reduced from the usual rate, for such a show of generosity? I wish only to understand in full, for misunderstandings are the cause of so much unnecessary bloodshed..."

Her tongue runs over her lower lip for a moment, probably due to the salt air.


Surely those words say 'I am a Mercy, so I know every pain point of the human body'. Or not, as she visibly recoils. Disgust? Fear? That is hard to tell at least. But, Azova doesn't move from her spot between the two. "My fear does not rule me, mercenary. If I've served in battle against the gyre, I can certainly stand between you and Lady Maya." she murmurs, unable to hide fear perhaps. But also not giving in to it. Yet.


"So much capital gets tied up in having to set up shop, move, set up shop again, move..." Martinique stops twirling her knife long enough to balance its tip on one of her fingers, and then flip it so its handle lands in her grip. "If things truly get ugly here in the Isles -- and it really seems like they will -- having a home base will save us quite a lot of hassle. Case in point, the shav barbarians who can't stand us existing so close by."

Martinique looks from Helewise, to Haakon, to Azova, to Maya, to Norah, taking in all five of the visitors. "Pacifica. Stop that," she says. "I'm trying to do business here."

Pacifica stares at Azova for just a moment more, and then relents. Her eyes hood slightly, and her gaze moves away.

"Anyway. It's a fair offer. A place to put my soldiers, a place to put my boats, and we're yours for a song." Mad Martinique stops whirling her dagger and sticks it into a sword-belt at her hip. Or a dagger-belt, in this case. "This place, any place, some place. You'll know where to find us when you have an answer."

"If we were to let you live on a small, uninhabited island in Eswynd territory, would this suffice? This agreement would come with an understanding that this is entirely contingent upon getting along with your Prodigal neighbors on nearby islands and honorable professional behavior," Norah says, hands coming to rest on her hips. "Ivan Helianthus must be destroyed, as I am sure your Pacifica agrees."


"Your Pacifica agrees," Pacifica says, casting her eyes toward Martinique.

You'll know where to find us. "Aye, so we do," Haakon rumbles in agreement. His eye goes from mercenary to Marquessa, a few more words muttered.

Norah turns to the Redreef ladies. "Unless you have an island for them, then by all means, have them."


Feirefiz shifts the axe on his shoulder, and flashes a broad, canny grin at Norah. "We always honor our contracts," he says. Martinique appears to be thinking this over, but her eyes flick toward Maya and Helewise when Norah speaks to them.


"It is not for me to make a determination on this matter for now," Helewise says. "I shall take your case - and if you wish to write a letter, that too - to the baroness; and I would ask you to act peacably for a period, as an earnest of good faith."

She still isn't smiling. "I would be aided in making this case if you can provide me with an estimate of your fighting strength. But I understand that you may wish to keep such matters close, as well."


"As a gesture of good faith, I am willing to see to their wounded before we leave." Azova makes this offer towards those she's with, and are negotiating.

When Martinique looks her way, Maya goes still. She looks to the others and then draws in a slow breath. "I am the Minister of Infrastructure. I may be able to find a place- but I would need time." She looks furtively towards Pacifica and points. "But she needs to stay away from us." 'From me.'


Martinique remains in silent thought for a moment. Finally, it's Azova that she addresses. "I accept. Safir. Come down and show her the way."

There's a rustle from the trees, not far from where Azova might have thought she noticed some birds earlier, and with a grunt, an archer drops down. From his position, he could have had the drop on... well, anyone in the group. "This way," the older archer says, looking like his knees are a bit creaky after that hop down -- he's got to be at least sixty, what's he doing climbing trees?

Martinique keeps her eyes on the nobles. "I will be as peaceable as the Horderachts allow," she says, not ruling out self-defense. "My Lord here had our numbers more or less correct. Around a hundred." She keeps it vague. "While we await word from Redreef Shores... Pacifica."

Martinique's eyes are on Norah, now. "If you will have her, Pacifica will travel with you to Eswynd's waters, and see what you might offer in the way of a small, uninhabited island. When she reports back... negotiations will continue."

Martinique rests her hands on her hips. "And if you see any Horderacht ships on the water when you're headed home, do the world a favor and sink them. They would not be missed."