Captain Aniruddha Tok stood on the Quarter deck, leaning on the rail with his legs crossed and one of his tanned hands rubbing his upper lip as he thought- and think he did. The Ratgrins were in some serious trouble, all of it undeniably his doing. The events of the day before was alarming to say the least. First, he had lead his crew on a bat-shit crazy mission to kidnap a highly secured young princess, resulting in the death of more than a couple members. They'd managed to make a quick escape, and were luckily enough that the Princess had stupidly wandered off, but now was the time to anxiously await attack. Surely there'd be people pursuing them. While Princess Hermione wasn't all that iconic, she was still a princess so stealing her was asking to be hung in the gallows. Tok knew it didn't matter though. If they made it to the final destination, the Lost City of Gold, nothing could stand in their way. He felt slightly guilty (but not nearly guilty enough to change the situation as of yet) that the rest of the crew had no idea of his crazy scheme. They probably assumed he'd gone off his tracks, finally losing his marbles. You see, the only people who knew about the true motives for kidnapping the young maiden was he, Tommy the scholar he'd been researching with for the past recent years, and Derek "Atlas" James, the sociable first mate that had slowly won Ruddha's respect and trust during his time aboard.

A deep, guttural hum left his closed mouth as he closed his eyes and noted that the sun was just rising. "Well, I do suppose it's time to wake the princess from her slumber." he said aloud, his lips pressed into a tight line as he descended some stairs at a brisk pace. Hi feet darted up and down each step like a needle to cloth. His movement very much resembled that of an graceful feline, fluid-like and smooth despite the fact that his posture was straight and his head proudly raised. You might wonder how he managed to keep his poise even after having a sleepless night. Ruddha had so graciously boarded the young girl in his own personal chambers, not trusting the brutish men on board not to poke at her should she have been left in the regular sleeping quarters... whatever that meant. However, it seemed that the girl hadn't thought him nearly so giving, as she'd been making a huge fuss. He honestly couldn't even imagine why... other than the whole being abducted deal. He shook off the thought passively. The gal would learn to love being on a ship after time- every one did. He'd never met a single person who hadn't fallen deeply in love with the sea after a long enough time to get to know it personally.

He rapped on his door a couple times to note her that he was entering, then promptly slipped the silver keys out of his pocket and into the lock, entering his chambers with ease. "Good morning, my lady. I do hope you've slept well. I've come to introduce you to my faithful pirate crew- they are really so eager to meet you. After your entrance, it seemed they were disappointed that you hadn't wanted to become acqainted with them after all they'd done to greet you. But, I digress. Come along." he rambled whimsically at the girl who'd fallen asleep in his large chair. He spoke evenly, his deep voice vibrating against the walls. "Oh, how very rude of me. I am Captain Aniruddha Tok, the great, the clever, the handsome. You can either call me Captain, Ruddha, or Your Grandest Majesty." He took a deep bow and offered the groggy girl a hand. He chose to be as civil as possible, treating their new guest with the same chivalry he'd done with any newcomer. The young princess was in no way getting special treatment, aside from being able to sleep in his favorite chair.

This was simply how Tok worked, a sly gentlemen through and through.

This can't be happening. It's really not happening. There's no way this is happening! Those were Hermione's thoughts all through the night. As she drifted into sleep, in the large, incredibly comfortable chair, her dreams consisted of exotic places where buildings floated upside down, the princess walked on clouds and ate bits of sunshine. There was no possible way this was at all happening to her, even her dreams agreed. She'd read about kidnappings and imagined them magnificent and romantic. No. Had she been so horribly wrong. Hermione was stuck on this stinking ship, with stinking men (and even some women!) for no reason she could really deduce. Who would steal her away from her home? Who in their right minds would want her of all people? A duke would have been better, yes? Not the ugly, much hated, and scorned young princess. It was almost stupid! Yes! These men and women were unfathomably doltish!

A knock on the door and a deep voice, one she would never forget, sounded in her ears and she stirred awake slowly. Hermione always had a problem with waking. Sleep was a fine retreat for her restless, sometimes dreamy, head. When she saw him, she recognized him as the abhorrent Captain who'd led the massive kidnapping. Her pale green eyes widened and she pulled her knees up to her chest, all the crinoline and linens making it difficult for her rather long, thin arms to reach around. Still yet, the skirts covered her slippered feet, enough so, that he wouldn't have noticed she'd removed them and now had them hidden. As he continued talking, she slowly gripped one, thinking long and hard about her actions. It was something, anything! Hermione did not want to be stuck on this God forsaken ship with all its God forsaken pirates. Blasphemous beings that they were!

With no sense of aim, nor a lick of common sense in her mind, Hermione threw the slipper as hard as she could in the Captain's direction. With another quick inhale, she pushed out of the chair and tried to run past him. Unfortunately, her bare feet got caught up in the mass of petticoats and she tripped, falling harshly on her face. Her nose, placed rather symmetrically between her large, round eyes, made a hateful crack. Hermione hadn't thought of throwing her arms out to catch her fall, for she wasn't used to falling while conscious. The sound had been awful, but the sudden pain and the instant taste of blood in the back of her throat sent her senses unbridled. She wailed out and pushed herself up, her hair falling out of its plait even more than it had from her fights the night before. The Princess wasn't one to be taken so easily, but this pain was nothing she'd ever felt and so she was thrown into a sudden turmoil.

"Don't hurt me!" She cried, her nose a little crooked, bloody, and beginning to swell. All her fear and survival instincts kicked in and she sat helpless on the wooden floor. "Please! I'll do whatever you want!" It wasn't even a begging cry. No, Hermione had a little more pride than to beseech for her life. It was more of a final realization of failure in her voice. It was hopelessness. Hermione was giving up because the pain in her nose was very much. Her hands moved up to touch the fiery facial feature, only to moan loudly in pain again.

"Look at what you've done now, Hermione!" She cursed herself and flopped her hands into her lap. "You're hopeless!" At this point, Captain Tok wasn't even a member of her reality. He was just another bystander; a spectator of the infamous failure that was Her Highness, Princess Hermione.

Merryweather Rawlins did not like being left out of the loop. Especially not when things got to the point of people kidnapping royalty. No, she had been so far out of the loop that she had not even been brought in on the kidnapping mission itself. This, she took to be for two reasons. One, and she had to admit this to herself: she was horrible at fighting up-close, and from the number of people who hadn't come back, she judged that there had been quite a lot of that. Two: she probably would have spent the entire time trying to explain the twenty best reasons why what they were attempting to do was infernally, irredeemably, unfathomably (and doubtless several other un-words she couldn't summon to mind right now) stupid.

But of course nobody ever wanted to listen to the navigator. Except when they needed something, like say, directions, or logic maybe. But no, what the Captain had wanted was apparently a princess. Why, the boyishly-dressed female could not possibly comprehend. Tok wasn't the sort to dally excessively with wenches, at least not that she knew of, and so unless he had incredibly discerning taste in that regard, it meant there was something else behind it.

Hazel eyes narrowed slightly, and the young woman huffed inaudibly before swinging onto some rigging. She needed to plan escape routes. Several. Because logically, the entire British navy was going to be all over them before you could finish a bottle of rum. Probably the French, too, if only for the sake of having a member of rival royalty to ransom. And they weren't even the real problem, once the mercs got into it. In her experience, navies were powerful, but too caught up in the niceties of procedure to beat you if you could plan things right. But mercs... mercs were canny.

"I swear... this better be for something good, or I'm going to..." her grumbled sentence trailed off into a sharp shake of the head, and Merryweather unhooked a device from her belt. A protractor, not that anyone around here would recognize it as such. She needed to get the angle of the sun... Leaning back against the rigging (at least Kate had the sense to do her job right, after all), she hooked her feet in it so as to steady herself, then unrolled the small map currently in her left hand. Sharp eyes scrutinized the lines carefully, and she removed a piece of charcoal from her pocket, scratching something on it, a notation in neat, minuscule handwriting, an esoteric shorthand that only she would be able to read.

High up in the eaves of the ship, the girl called Kain remained unaware of the commotion in the Captain's cabin. Out of the loop as ever.

Momo woke up before anyone else in the crew, that she knew of, and slowly crawled her way up the stairs from the lower crew quarters. She hadn't quite gotten her sea legs back yet and she wasn't very graceful while half asleep either. As she was walking to the cooking quarters to start making what would be the crews breakfast she saw the captain out of the corner of her eye. "Cap....tain," she started to call but he hadn't heard her.

She watched him walk down the hall a moment, "Did he even go to sleep?" she thought and then walked into the kitchen. She tied her hair back in a bandanna and put on an apron she had brought with her when she joined the crew and started to look in the food storage. "Son of a.... Why can't the leave the food alone?" she mumbled as she looked to see somethings out of place and some food missing from what she guessed was a midnight ransacking of the food stores. She reorganized the stores then got out ingredients to make a basic hot oatmeal, it was simple, easy and as far as she knew the only breakfast no one would gripe about because they could add their own flavorings to it.

"Someone will complain," she mumbled as she cooked. She finished it in no time and got out fruits and other types of seasonings that could add flavor to an individual's bowl. The crew had already complained about her making traditional breakfasts instead of hardy meals, apparently the last cook didn't care much for the crew's health. Of course she just ignored them knowing that most of them were complaining just to complain.

It would still be a short while before the crew woke up so Momo kept the large pot over a small fire in the kitchen space to keep it hot. She decided that since he was up she may as well ask if the captain wanted anything specific. She walked down the hall and up to the captain's room, she had thought she heard a cry of pain but just shrugged it off as someone falling out of bed downstairs and the walls of the ship reverbing the sound. She knocked on the captain's door.

"Captain?" she called through the door. "As they say the early bird gets the worm." she started to say cheerfully, "Is there anything special you wanted for breakfast?" she added and waited for his reply, she was certain he was in there.

"Kain!" shouted Tommy. "Kain!" Confound that kid, Tommy thought as he anxiously searched the ship's forecastle for the ship's navigator. There were times Tommy felt degraded the only reason he was on Captain Tok's was because of his unique skills of literacy, logic, and versatility in languages. He wasn't an Oxford or a Cambridge graduate: he was a pirate, for God's sake! If his uncle hadn't gotten pummeled by that Spaniard, he could be a captain by now. He was only in this for the money. They had the princess now - minus several good men - and they had to make good thier escape. Tommy already had a route planned in his head: sailing along the East Coast, around the Scottish Isles, into the North Atlantic, and then south to the Caribbean. He'd even checked it against some charts, just to see if the currents in the North Sea could carry the ship fast enough and sling them around the tip of Scotland into the Atlantic. But that wasn't his call to make. Tok already had a navigator, a child 9 years Tommy's junior. At 16, Tommy had been only an assistant navigator, valued only for his brains and the fact he was the captain's nephew.
Tommy was more irritable than normal. He'd been on the mission to nab the princess, and knew the fury of the king. For now, they were safe, hidden among the other ships of the Thames Estuary. While Tommy wished he could have had more time to explore his father's home country, he knew timing was of the essence. They had to get out of here fast. That was another reason why he wanted to find Merryweather now. Not only was she the official navigator, the sooner she had an escape route, the sooner she could notify Tok or Atlas. Tommy's time as a first officer meant nothing on this ship. Atlas was first officer. Tommy was little more than a passenger, paying his way with knowledge and a hand that could grip a sword and fire a gun.
"Kain, where the hell are you? You'd better answer me, or I'll call you by your first name!"

Willow grumbled as she was(rather forcibly) kicked out of a seaside tavern in the docking district of the city of London, Great Britain. She grumbled a bit louder when her bag and effects hit her in the back of her head. She wasn't overtly drunk, and she had only injured 2...maybe 3 other customers, but that wasn't the reason she was grumbling.

"The king..." she said under her mouth. "The god damned King of this great country!" She shouted. The king wasted no time in finding her and telling her about how his precious little girl was stolen by a band of pirates, and how he wanted the best mercenaries and bounty hunters to hunt them down.
"Well..." she chuckled, "I am the best."

He offered her a full pardon of all her crimes against the crown, a very hefty sum of money, and a position of nobility in Great Britain, if only she'd be the one to bring his little girl back to him. This was...rather appealing, considering her crimes in England dictate the punishment of being hanged, drawn and quartered, and thats a charge they only give to men... Plus she didn't exactly fancy her chopped up beheaded body hanging from the London bridge. Nobility, on the other hand, sounded nice and comfy.

She slowly pulled herself up, and dusted herself off. Packing her things into their proper positions, she walked casually out to the dock, and looked out onto the sea as the sun began to rise.
"This task is ridiculous. It'd be easier to just kill the girl when I find her, maybe pick up a bounty from the French..."
"I won't have you talking about our princess like that, Miss Witmoore." a voice rose from behind her. She turned to face him, a British soldier, either a private or a corporal. He had a letter in his hand.
"What is it now?" She asked, angrily taking the letter and tearing it open. It read:
Dear Willow Witmoore,
As you and I both know, the king's daughter has been kidnapped, by what appear to be a crew of pirates. While their intentions remain unknown, we do know that they do have a ship, and we do expect them to use it. I understand that, as a private contractor, your means are your own, and that you most likely have no interest in working with the royal navy on this assignment, but, as we both also know, you are not currently in possession of neither ship nor crew, and I don't see you swimming after the pirates. That said, it is my duty to the crown to find the princess, and right now, that means assisting you in any way I can. In that respect, I am offering you a ship and crew to take passage with if you deem it necessary, captained by a one William Henry Hamilton. The ship's christened as the HMS Spiteful, and she's currently been set to chase after the pirates. I needn't remind you, however, that ship is Hamilton's so you are to obey his orders while on his ship. That said, take this letter with my seal to dock 17 and present it to the good captain if you are interested.

Great thanks,

Admiral John Henry Thompson.

"Blast, another navy bastard I have to listen to" she muttered under her breath. "But he's right, I need a ship." as she spoke the last part, she began to trek the half mile to dock 17, hoping the good captain and his ship hadn't set sail, and clutching the letter in her hand.

The sound of her (preferred) name reached her ears, and Merryweather paused, considering whether or not to answer. It was Tommy. She wasn't a hundred percent sure what she thought of him, all told; sometimes she was certain his was bitter towards her or the captain or something. But she had not nearly the people skills requisite to know for sure, and so she didn't bother to dwell on it much.

Idly, she wondered what was for breakfast this morning; she hardly cared, really, being of the sort to eat pretty much anything Momo made, but it was pleasantly drowning out Tommy. But of course, one thing that never failed to reach her ears was the rather unsubtle threat to utilize the only known method of provoking the slim girl, and she sighed, descending from the rigging with not-quite-undignified (for she was rarely undignified) speed and dropping almost soundlessly to the deck just behind where Tommy was standing, which would probably surprise and/or annoy him, either of which she was content to do.

"Yes?" she prompted. "Is there something you need so urgently that you could not wait until I had my measurements taken?" She knew, of course, that he was after an escape route, and she had a few in mind. Why he needed to know, however, she was interested to hear him justify. It wasn't as though the man was stupid; he likely already knew what their best shot was, minus a few minutiae that it was her job to catch.

Atlas rested lying across the nest, comfortably, in the heights of the ship. He wasn’t wearing anything except his baggy cloth shorts, and while he appeared to be asleep he hadn’t gotten a wink that night. It always hit him whenever they lost men, especially over something like this. It was quite possible that they were chasing a myth. No one had ever been to El Dorado, for all they knew it was a legend. If it turned out so things could still work in their favor by selling the wench, but for now they had to sail on. For all the crew knew, she was for ransom. That wouldn’t last long though. The crew would wizen up eventually. Why, if it was just a ransom, did they need to sail all the way to the Americas?

Still, should they reach the gates of El Dorado this would all be worth it, even the death of his men. Taking a quick swig of his personal flask of whiskey he had up in the nest with him, Atlas got to his feet and peered out. They needed to get as far away from here as they could, as quickly as they could. By now word would have gotten to just about every Englishman with a boat about the kidnapping of the princess, and the gold would be far too much for a poor working man to resist. While Atlas was confident in the crew’s ability, ten dogs could take down a lion. They would be overwhelmed with numbers.

Of course, the crew knew this. Where was that damn navigator? Had she no sense of urgency? Stupid kid. This ship wasn’t your regular old pirate ship. For one, there was an odd abundance of women on the crew. Not that Atlas minded. Long nights out at sea had a way of making you miss women, and their presence on board was somewhat delightful. The presence of females meant little though. They were crew, so it wasn’t like he ever attempted anything with them. It would be, in a way, inappropriate, even for pirates. He had to work with these people, and would continue to have to work with them whether or not they possessed breasts, or as beautiful as they began to look after months at sea. The women had nothing to worry about from the crew by now. Like him, the crew simply enjoyed looking at them, being reminded that women still existed. Besides, it wasn’t like Atlas ever failed to enjoy the company of a woman or two, or three, whenever they landed at a port. He could easily disguise himself as a trader and had the charm to woo just about any locked away rich man’s daughter, his favorite taste. Talk about the freedom of the sea for a few minutes and they were eating out of your hand. The unfortunate thing, though, was that he had never really enjoyed the company of a woman, save for sex. No woman had yet to steal his own heart in the ways he had seen or read about in books, and in a way he was disappointed. He wanted to fall in love one day. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to forever keep the freedom that the sea provided. If only, he thought, he could have both.

Regardless of such foolishness, they had to leave this place. So, in a quick motion, Atlas launched himself over and down. It was a simple bit of acrobatics that got him to the deck far quick than climbing would have. At this point, as much time as he’d spent on and with ships, such movements were second nature, yet he still felt the rush as he cheated death multiple times on his way down. Landing on the deck with a thud, Atlas called out, “Ms. Kain, why, by chance, are we still in British waters? The entire navy is searching for us and we’ve yet to make it out of the Thames.”

Atlas didn’t wait to be answered, not wanting to hear any reasons, just wanting the results. Instead he briskly walked into the ship and towards the Captain’s cabin, where he figured the captain the princess would be. He reached the door just in time to catch the girl talking to herself, and the moment stood a bit awkward as the first mate glanced at the captain. “Sure clocked her good, eh cap’n?” Atlas laughed, knowing the captain would never have hit her. He walked up to the princess and looked at her nose, oblivious to any understanding of personal space. “Wouldn’t want your king thinking we’ve mistreated you, highness,” with a quick motion Atlas’s thumbs were on the princess’s nose, and a moment later they had snapped the nose back into place. Atlas ignored her squeals and turned around to face the captain. “If you get a chance, Ruddha, we’ve got the important ‘we’re still in England’ matter to discuss. Anytime you’re free though. I’m easy.” The bitterness could be heard in his voice, as it usually could whenever they lost men. The captain understood that was one of the things that really set Atlas off. “I’ll be on deck when you need me. And, be gentle, she’s just a youngin, probably even her first time,” he laughed as he walked off just as casually as he came in.

Siegfried was presently belowdecks with the stores and his ubiquitous list. Not that he actually needed the thing, of course, but then occasionally something was worth having on prop value alone. He knew exactly how much of everything they had, including how much had been stolen (and likely by whom, though he'd never say) last night. At some point, the cook, Momo, popped in to check on some things as well.

"Mornin' Miss Momo," he uttered, putting a bit of effort into giving the words a singsong cadence that most of the crew members were used to by now. She seemed a bit preoccupied, though, and had disappeared with a swish of oddly-orange hair before he said anything else. Shrugging to himself, Siegfried settled himself cross-legged on one of the barrels, somehow managing to fit his rather lengthy limbs all underneath him a twisting fashion. The lotus position, his teacher had called it. Since he didn't actually need any of the time he was allotted to carry out his inventory, he was in the habit of using it to meditate instead.

So, amidst the barrels and crates of hardtack and salted meat, the rather unusual fellow closed his eyes, sharpening his hearing so that he would know if someone saw him coming. Kain had caught him at it, once, but he'd passed it off as napping on the job. He wasn't sure if she'd believed him or not; the cold little girl was a bit hard to read sometimes, even for him, but even if she didn't, he doubted she was the sort to go telling anyone.

His thoughts he allowed to drift back to the raid on the princess' home. It had been odd, visiting that place as an invader, rather than an honored guest. Still, last time he'd been there, he'd been about twelve, which was just as well. He'd managed to go unrecognized as the son of a Duke. The last thing he needed was anyone asking about that; even the captain hadn't been told anything beyond the simple fact that he was running from an old life and adopting a persona to do it. He doubted anyone around here would care- pirates were good like that. Still, it was a part of his life that he'd rather leave behind.

Strange, still, to be a raider. He'd killed those who stood in his way, men he might be fighting alongside, had his life turned out a little differently. But it had not, would not, and it was useless to dwell upon such things as far as he could tell. So gradually, he let the thoughts fade, until the only sensations he knew were the muffled ones coming through the walls from something happening near the captain's quarters. He hoped the Princess wasn't trying to escape or some such nonsense. It would be rather unfortunate to have to run her down again. She was a surprisingly quick runner, though the edge in fitness had most assuredly been his. He wondered if that was something she practiced. Who knew? Running may well have become fashionable in court since he left it.

Aside from whatever was going on there, Siegfried felt only the rocking of the boat in the harbor and the distinct awareness of his own limbs and the smell of the supplies. He'd have to watch that cheese... it might go off soon, and he didn't want someone to steal it by mistake.

Kei was quietly reclined in the abundant riggings of the ship, high up near the rafters. This was her favorite place, it was peaceful, quiet, and she could properly meditate with the feel of wind running over her face. And that cook never thought to look up here...

Kei was completely relaxed, her muscles like water, and her eyes closed in daily meditation, before the sound of a faint thumping and a startled and pain-filled cry pierced her concentration. Her eyes opened suddenly and a golden eyes were once more revealed to the world. Though uncommon in most places it had been normal in her homeland, however anywhere else she went she was treated like some exotic species. Ah well, it seem people are awake, though we still aren't out of British waters. nothing for me to do yet, then. She thought to herself as she expertly scaled the mast, occasionally jumping and free-falling for relatively short distances only to grasp another rope to halt herself before she fell too far, making her look like a large, dark-red cat. The adrenaline rush was like nothing other, though she kept her usual mask of sternness and cold indifference firmly in place.

She never let this facade crack or diminish in the slighted, for she had vowed that it might only come off or be relaxed in the presence of her trusted captain alone or when she once more stepped onto the soil of her longed-for Nohin, her beloved homeland. Kei Yukimura was from a far-off and completely isolated island-country, and so had unusual customs and traditions. Such as bowing every time she met a person, her hands palm to palm as if in prayer, and always wearing odd robe-like garb (she called it a yukata). She was also well-versed in the art of sword-play with her long and oddly curved long, sword-like blade, the 'katana;' straight-edged and medium-length blade, the 'wakizashi;' and the shortest 'long dagger'-like blade, the 'tanto.'

She, as a person, was quite odd to many of her crew-mates and others she met. Her obvious foreignness being one factor, though her cold and strict (with herself especially) demeanor very unlike most people found elsewhere. However, she was a talented Bosun, though she was harsh she kept the rest in line and doing their jobs; she helped out with whichever was the hardest, so none could rightly accuse her of slacking off (though she did so whenever she could find appropriate reason to).

Once she hit the deck in a perfectly feline crouch she decided to make her way to the 'mess hall' to break her nightly fast, though it was really more of an open kitchen-like room than a hall, and prayed to her patron god that she would not meet that fanatical cook...

"There you are, Kain," Tommy said, turning around. He was used to Kain's stealth-like movements. Although he tried not to show his jealousy, he was sure Merryweather was picking it up. She was probably also competing with him, trying to show her mathematics and navigational skills were a thousand times his. She was, after all, a 16 year old girl. "I was wondering if you had any escape routes planned out. I was looking over the charts, and I was considering taking the least likely way out, around Scotland or the Orkneys..." Tommy escorted Kain back towards the cabins. "The Navy's presence in the Channel is too heavy to pass safety. Besides, they'll probably expect us to go that way as well. The North Sea is more open, and less direct. Perhaps we might run into a gale that could give us some extra time. You have any ideas?"

Momo had frowned when the captain didn't respond and left back to the kitchen just as Atlas turned into the hallways to the captain's quarters. It was a short quiet walk back to the kitchen, as she walked back in she sighed and took her hair out of the bandanna letting it fall back in its usual fashion and rest on her back a couple inches passed her shoulders. She looked up to see Kei in the kitchen, she wasn't surprised that she was one of the first people to see today, Kei was really strict in her ways and seemed to always be up by a certain time.

Momo admired her for that, among other reasons. She smiled at Kei, "Good morning Miss Kei," she greeted her cheerfully as she walked over to a small rack, with a single hook, and placed her apron on the rack and her bandanna on top of the apron. She went back to looking in the food stores and figuring out what she was going to make for lunch in a couple hours, not having any idea that a royal palate was on board. She knew Kei wouldn't take anything that she was supposed to so she didn't mind having her back to her. She looked at the vegetables, grains, and other foods and the fresh meats they had just bought when they made port. Long times out at sea meant a lot of dried preserved meats that were hard to work with and make taste particularly good so she was happy to have a chance to make something extra tasteful for the crew.

She walked out of the storage and looked at Kei again, "Miss Kei what was the food like in your home country?" she asked in a cheerful tone. She hadn't gotten a chance to talk to much of the crew yet, so she didn't know a lot about them, what they liked and disliked, so she wanted to use this chance to find out more about at least one person.

"Mmm..." Merryweather muttered unhelpfully. Realizing this was not a sound that would be at all decipherable to anyone, she elaborated. "That depends on whether the navy forces in the channel would know what we have aboard before we pass them," she explained. "I've been keeping an eye on the weather, and the wind will be in a favorable direction for us if we want to try and shoot out the channel before they realize we're gone. They're probably only just putting together their pursuit teams now, and the bureaucracy is remarkably inefficient."

She paused thoughtfully, trailing after Tommy in what was doubtless the Captain's direction. "Of course, it's a risk, and if they actually manage to do something besides sitting on their hands for once, we'd be dead meat." That was an analogy she'd picked up in a tavern once. Sometimes, idioms could say things really well. Other times, they were just plain stupid.

"Otherwise, your idea makes sense, but the wind would likely be at an angle to us most of the way, so still not ideal. It's up to the Captain, I guess." Merryweather shrugged. She only ever thought of it as her job to point out the possibilities, discount those that were patently stupid, and let other people take it from there. In this case, it would be Tok, probably with input from Tommy and Atlas. In truth, that was the only reason she tended to behave a bit more frostily than usual towards the scholar; he was in the know, the trusted circle of those who had proven themselves most valuable, and she was not. Merryweather had something of a complex about things like that. One might go so far as to call them abandonment issues, but she hid them well, even from herself.

Business was business, though, and she was never one to let that sort of thing get in the way of doing her job, hence her relative level of civility at present.

Affable hands laid one on top of the other, placed just on the navel of her stomach, letting them rise and then slowly lower analogously with each breath that she took. Her emerald green eyes set there gaze just above her, soggy and damp wooden surroundings. She had a long night, truth was, she didn't sleep at all. It was too laborious to get a wink of sleep after all the commotion. Her eyes closed as she let out a soft grunt, rolling over to her side and then pulling her weight up, letting her bare feet swing from the cot and land on the bare wooden floor. Her head slowly detruded, long locks of red hair falling to shelter her face from view. She was beyond tired but that was something she refused to show. She had expected for Momo to be coming to her cabin room soon with the every morning of question of, "What'll it be today?". She loved the girl to pieces, as she did everyone else. The innocent thought of her long felt compassion for her mates brought a curve to her lips, a flawless smile.

Standing to her feet, her lower body felt bare as the cotton sheet fell from her frame, being exposed in a torn shirt which ended at her navel and a pair of long faded blue bloomers. Her arms reached upward as she pushed against the air, beginning to stretch her aching limbs. With a silent yawn leaving her mouth, she hurried to her wooden desk, starting to clear a few bandages and utensils which she used when patching up a few injuries. After her area of work was cleared, she lowered her face over a large bowl filled with water and began to splash it on her face. Reaching for her hand towel, she pat her face dry and stood there for a moment with a curious expression. She could hear the commotion in the Captains' cabin, followed by a scream from a young girl. The Princess. One thing she was certain of, was that Ruddah wouldn't do a thing to hurt the girl. She was sure, she was only screaming from fright; something she was going to have to get used to hearing through the nights.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she set away the cloth she dried her face with, and began to dress herself in a black dress, the corset tightly fitting around her waist. Her feet were eventually covered in tattered black boots, her dress falling just above the top of them, making them visible. Though she was always seen in rags, most would have to admit she was a rather rare sight to see. She ran a bristled brush through her full locks of hair, setting it in place till is fell gracefully down her back. She left her cabin room, closing her door tightly shut behind her, her eyes then falling on to Atlas, watching as he began to walk off from the Captains' cabin. She remained quiet, slowly letting her feet pace closer to the Captains' cabin and then eventually past it, making her way towards the top deck..

Ruddha's deep bow had been interrupted by a slipper to the face, causing his cap to fall onto the floor and his dreads to spill from atop his head. He didn't even move as the princess attempted to run out the room, knowing very well that his crew (probably Siegfreid) would catch her before she could do anything as dramatic as she'd more than likely do. He could picture the childish princess leaping off the edge of the massive ship and into the icy waters below in some sort of declaration of her freedom. What did make him move, however, was the unsettling crack of a broken nose. Naturally, she started wailing. Tok didn't doubt that this would be the first major injury she'd ever sustained, being dotted her entire life. She moaned in pain and cried out odd pleas, as if he'd been the one to throw her across the room and break her nose, which was bleeding steadily down her face. This was the first time he'd seen a tantrum thrown in years, back from when he was a kid himself, he reckoned.

Tok was annoyed. His handsome entrance and rehearsed introduction hadn't been appreciated, the same way his personal sleeping chamber hadn't been appreciated, and the same way the grand adventure he was handing to her on a silver platter wasn't being appreciated. She was a brat, basically. Tok had to throw his life away and fight desperately to get aboard this ship and sleep in that chair, anything to quench his need for thrilling, fantastical lifestyle. Here, this little girl was given the perfect opportunity to go crazy like most kids would like to, and she was sobbing like a baby. These were not traits Tok was particularly fond of, and felt his cat-like eyes glaze over with his frustration. Still, though, he kept his composure. "Princess, please calm down." he said, not wasting words on a person who wouldn't listen to them anyway.

He was vaguely aware of their new cook singing out pleasant questions from behind the door, but he couldn't quite make out the words, so he merely mumbled out incomprehensible nonsense back and continued to approach the fragile dame that was bundled in a heap on the floor. Just as he'd tentively made his way close enough to her to do something, creeping slowly so as not to frighten her, Atlas barged in, cracked a joke as he usually might do, and quickly snapped her nose back in place as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Tok made a note to block out the squealing that came after. “If you get a chance, Ruddha, we’ve got the important ‘we’re still in England’ matter to discuss. Anytime you’re free though. I’m easy.“I’ll be on deck when you need me. And, be gentle, she’s just a youngin, probably even her first time,” Atlas had said, speaking to Ruddha with strong hints of bitterness and resentment traced within in words. Atlas always got this way after a nonperfect battle, when crew members lost their lives. The kid stalked off without a reply, leaving Ruddha alone with the wailing girl once more.

He felt himself deflate on his desk with a long, tired sigh and a mighty eye rub. This was too much. Even for the infamous Aniruddha Tok, this was way too much. This had no doubtably been his biggest charade, the riskiest feat he'd ever attempted. The youngling's crying rammed into his brain like a bull to a matador, over and over again. He felt his stress take over and he turned to her with a fierceness he usually reserved for only an enemy. "Miss Hermione! Stop." he snapped, the dialect he'd picked up living in England as potent as it had ever been. What he said hadn't been a polite request or subtle hint like it normally would have been, it was an order, a command. His stomach dropped as he realized what he'd done- who he'd become for that split second. It killed him to think he'd lost his cool, but he didn't give sign in his faltering, instead just gazing at the wall with hard eyes, not apologetic in the least. Still, though, he explained.

"Miss Hermione, you will soon learn that there is more important things to concern yourself with than a broken nose or a case of homesickness. There is even more important things than love or death. I don't want you to mistake my kindness for weakness or tolerance, Princess." He said cooly, not as harsh as before but not as pleasant as his introduction. He gave her an earnest look in the eye, and left, leaving the door open. She'd leave when she was comfortable enough to venture out, but Tok couldn't waste any more time chit chatting. He went searching for his navigator and scholar.

Allyson stood up and stretched as the captain came out of his room, she had simply been lazing about before but that was rather unwise if there was anything to do.
While most of the older people on the crew had been participating in the kidnapping, she had been left behind, not particularly happy about that. She was still decent in a fight despite her age, still. Being left behind did have its benefits, not dieing for one.

So she walked over to Ruddha and spoke quietly and respectfully. "Is there anything for me to do sir?" Admittedly she was still quite new to this pirate thing, having just joined the ship a few months before this mad scheme started. Still, she would watch and attempt to find out more. From what she had seen, the captain was not a fool, and from all appearance's this kidnapping was a madman's scheme. *there must be something more* She thought, her head down as she awaited the captains reply.

Captain William Henry Hamilton sat at the desk in his cabin, his navigator sitting opposite of him, both intently studying charts of the seas surrounding Great Britain. He had just finished his first voyage aboard the Spiteful, a month long patrol of the North Sea, and would be finished taking on provisions for the ships first circumnavigation, Admiral Wilmington-Smythes favorite method of getting rid of William for prolonged periods of time. The good captain had been eager to start what would be his 5th trip around the world, but those plans had been drastically changed. Like a wild fire, new of the kidnapping of one of the king's daughters last night had spread through the country. And then this morning a letter had arrived from Admiral Thompson, informing him that he was to forgo his previous orders, telling him to set sail in pursuit of Her Highness' kidnappers, but that he was to make sure to wait for an individual only identified as Miss Witmoore to arrive. Normally William would be out on deck supervising his crew, especially one as green as this one, but now he had to left it to the other officers, all of whom he had served with before and trusted, and trusting the more experienced crew members he had been able to bring from his previous ship to show the new men the ropes.

"They're undoubtedly somewhere near the Thames if they were able to kidnap the princess. That means their fastest route of escape would be through the Channel, but also the most dangerous. Heading through the North Sea would be slower, but also safer." Williams navigator stated, breaking the silence and saying the exact things Captain Hamilton had been thinking.

"The kidnappers have shown them to be either incredibly brave, or stupid, by they're actions, so they would probably consider the Channel a viable option. Heading up the channel would be pointless for us. We'd be going against the wind and the rest of the fleet is sure to be stopping every ship that tries to go through." The navigator nodded is head in agreement. "The real question is who they're working for, where they intend to go."

William's initial thought had been it had been that it had been the actions of another nation, but that was seeming to be less likely at this point. The Spaniards seemed to be the most likely to try something like this at that time, but he just didn't feel they had the resources and ability to do so with King Philip V's focus being on the continent. The French would have been a suspect as well if it wasn't for the fact that it would ruin relations with their current allies of the Crown, possibly going so far as to push the king to leave the Triple Alliance. From the reports of the ragged and colorful group that had apparently committed the crime, it was seeming that the criminal was a very daring group of pirates. "Whoever they are, they're going to need a safe place to make port before asking for ransom. I doubt that they're going to Scandinavia or the Baltic. Africa also doesn't seem to likely. They're probably heading to the America's, I'd say the Caribbean. I doubt they'll try for the strait of Denmark, it would be to far and give us time to deploy. We'll try to intercept them north of the Isles as they make they're run for the Atlantic. That will be our plan. If you would plot us a course Mr. Jones. Also include a few stops in Ireland to see if we can get some more information. I'll leave it to your discretion as to where, just make sure they're not to many, we don't want to slow our progress." With that William stood, putting on his cap and coat, returning the navigator's salute, and stepped out of his cabin and onto the bustling deck. The crew seemed to have mostly finished loading the ship. Now all there was to do was wait for Miss Witmoore.

"So that is the situation, Sir." Elric Rolance looked up at the messenger, tapping his finger on the notice from the King. The messenger began to feel nervous, Elric's blood red eyes glaring at him in annoyance. "You can leave now." The messenger turned and walked away slowly, surprised at how calm Elric was handling the whole situation. When the messenger left, Elric stood up and walked over to the fireplace, throwing the letter in it. "So, she has gotten herself kidnapped by pirates. I swear, the stupidity of that girl." Elric smiled and let out a small chuckle before walking back over to his desk and grabbing his white, swallowtail coat by the collar and throwing it over his shoulder. "The King has decided to send this Hamilton after her." Walking over to his office door and opening it, he looked back at his office, knowing he wouldn't see it for a while. "No reason the Fiance to said kidnapped girl is not allowed to tag along." He closed the door behind him, putting on his coat as he walked at the door to his father's warehouse.

Elric arrived at the harbor within fifteen minutes. He had debated informing his father that he planned to go look for the Princess. If he had his father would have lent him one of the company ships. However, if he had done that then his father might not let him go. Earl Rolance valued his sons life more than his own, if only for the reason that he knew the company would thrive under Elric's leadership. If Elric ascended the throne, the company would have to go to another, far less capable heir. To the Earl, either option was beneficial; Have a son on the throne or his company's continued success. "The name of the ship was HMS Spiteful. Not exactly the most attractive name for a ship. It should make it easy to find though." Elric began walking down the harbor, passing the docks in numerical order starting from dock 1. As he walked he began thinking about the pirates motive for stealing the Princess. The notice from the King didn't mention a ransom, nor did it say anything about who the actual culprits were. Not a lot of evidence to go on. Time to back track. While the Princess is known for her clumsiness, taking her would have been no easy feat. So, the pirates are good, obviously. They did not leave any type of ransom or assurance of the Princess' safety. They wouldn't go through all this trouble just to simply kill her, but they didn't seem to want even an offer of gold for her. Based on that their motives are not something the King can give them. Elric looked up, only to realize that he was standing right in front of the ship. "Hopefully it will get more interesting."

Elric walked up the docking board, ignoring anyone trying to stop him. He reached the deck, looking around to see if there was anyone who might look like a Captain. There was a man near the cabin, wearing attire that stood him apart from the rest of the crew. Several crewman walked up to Elric and began ordering him off the ship. One glare from him made the crewman take several steps back, those frightening eyes of his even effecting men who have seen much in their lives. He looked over to the man, speaking in a direct, arrogant manner. "I assume you are Captain Hamilton. My name is Elric Rolance, I need to have a word with you."

Tinker lay sprawled across his bunk, with scratchy sheets tangled in heaps around his legs, murmuring non-intelligible words. To anyone listening in the swaying crew quarters, they might have heard him whimpering, or thrown articles of clothes at him to shut him up. The Carpenter slept as if he’d been hit with a ton of bricks and the notion wasn’t entirely untrue, either. The other night, the Captain had picked a select few of the crew members and dragged them on a wild goose chase—without telling them the entire story, which he didn’t particularly mind. They’d plucked a rather renowned, savvy young lass from the bosom of some royal family; a Princess, petticoat, coupled with armfuls of lace and all. Some of the crew members had been left behind, namely the youngsters, and since Tinker’s morals were always been questioned and he hadn’t been very curious as to what Tok’s plans were, he’d been one of the men brought along on the “adventure.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious; it was that he trusted the Captain enough not to question his intentions. Tok always had his crew members in mind. Not that his trust hadn’t been completely misplaced, the night that the Princess was swept away; he’d seen good men, good friends, die in front of him and nearly lost his own life if it hadn’t been for Derek, the ships trusty First Mate. Dragging him clear of danger while he was disoriented only made him like the jovial man more. Displaying a smarting, colorful black eye and bruised ribs was the only thing he had from the ordeal.

Groaning inwardly, Tinker’s mind jolted awake and he found himself sitting up in his bunk, clutching his head. Whoever managed to land a blow on his head must’ve been holding a plank of wood from the way his head steadily thumped like his beating heart. It didn’t help that he’d been having a nightmare; he groggily looked around the quarters to make sure no one had heard his mutterings. More than once, someone had approached him about his cries and panicked whispers at night—his only response was to sleep elsewhere, usually on the deck, unless the crisp winds were too chilly. Thankfully, most of his crew mates had already busied themselves in the mess, so he thought, and he could rest easy that no one would bother asking him. He’d blame it on the blow to the head. Gingerly feeling the back of his head, he ran his fingers over newly stitched stitches, before heaving a sigh. Mentally, he made a note to thank Tiesa for her fine work (and notably, for not cutting more of his hair). Dressing as quickly as he’d woken up; he donned a white workman’s shirt and a pair of fitted jerkins, pulling up his boots and rolling up his sleeves before looking into a small mirror he’d managed to snatch from their escapade. Tinker turned his head this way and that before grumbling that there was nothing to be done, the shiner he’d acquired looked like shallow purple paint, and his lip was split.

Wiping the sweat from the back of his neck with his colorful bandanna, Tinker stretched his arms behind his head with a tearful yawn before stepping out of the quarters. Like he’d expected, most of the crew mates were stomping around, deep in thought. This was when a loud, agonized cry infiltrated his already hammering head and he winced against it, striding up the stairs with as much poise as a beaten man could muster. As soon as he steadied himself on the wooden railing (affectionately so, as he’d re-built most of the ship), he turned to see the Captain walking away from his own quarters, where the Princess was most likely holed up, and forced a pained smile. “I see our grateful guest is growing accustomed to her quarters,” he noted, before he fished inside his pocket for an intricately designed pipe. He wagged it in the air as an invitation, resuming to packing it with fragrant, but strong tobacco. As he stepped up onto the higher deck, he arched an eyebrow.
“You know I’m not one to question your plans, Captain,” Tinker began, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, “And I’m not going to start now. But…” He paused, licking his lips. Something glimmered in his eyes and he chuckled absently, shrugging his shoulders and offering the pipe once more. It wasn’t his place to question anyone on the ship, let alone the Captain. He was only the Carpenter.

Shaggy hair covered the closed eyes of a young boy, Jack Blate, as he rested behind a few barrels of grog. The previous night had definitely been an interesting one, although he hadn’t been permitted off of the ship to fight; just to scavenge for any lose change or for loaves of bread and small foods to steal from shops. It was the boy’s hobby, and the only way that he had made a living for many months before joining the pirate crew, so he was a pro at it. Not being allowed to participate in the battle was definitely a disappointment to the cabin boy, though. His dream was to become a true pirate- to yield a sword so sharp that no one would dare to challenge him, to be able to fire away when a rival ship neared, and most of all, to be able to be included in the adventure. As a mere cabin boy, he was just an onlooker.

The voices of people slowly shook Jack out of his sleep, and he pulled his eyelids apart to reveal a busy deck. It was clearly morning and soon there would be tables to clear in the mess hall and cabins to clean, plus any other random tasks that the higher members of the ship needed the boy to do.

He pulled himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and shaking his brown locks out of his face before removing himself from behind the barrels and appearing on deck, just remembering what had occurred in the early hours of the morning when the crew, or at least the ones that hadn’t been killed, returned to the ship with a fighting female girl. She possessed elegance, even in a state of chaos, and Jack knew it was the princess. He hadn’t had much time to get a good glimpse of her before being shoved out of the way by the crew, but what princess wasn’t beautiful and wealthy? Jack found an instant interest with the girl and he was going to do everything in his small power to flirt with the older girl. He had many months of experience from doing it to the older females on the ship, so he figured that a princess couldn’t be too far out of reach.

Half a loaf of stale bread was pulled from his pocket, and on the way to the kitchen he eagerly shoved the food down his throat, knowing that the little portion of food that he would receive from Momo wouldn’t keep him completely full. He slipped through the door, the smell of hot food instantly setting his stomach to grumble and he grabbed a small portion before taking a seat at a deserted table and quickly throwing it into his mouth, knowing that he would soon need to begin chores.

Willow kept a decent pace, despite being a little groggy, but she was intent on keeping the captain waiting, out of spite. When she finally arrived at dock 17, she laid her eyes on the ship. "Well it certainly looks better than it's name." She muttered. She saw someone walk aboard the ship, he was dressed nicely, like a minor noble or lord, she quickly followed him on board the ship, and looked around at the crew, finishing up the loading and rigging.

It was a nice ship, compared to what it obviously once was. The captain is clearly a strict man, but the crew didn't seem to hate him, so he was probably fair minded as well. Some of the crew members were backing off from the man who had just shown up, and she assumed that they thought she was with him, because no one tried to stop her. She'd been thinking about the princess on her walk over, about the motives of the criminals.
What could they have to gain? If they set up a ransom, the king would just pay it, and then spring a trap on them and kill them all. If I was their captain though, I'd be auctioning her off to all of Britain's rivals, and give her to the highest bidder...

Willow followed the man up to the cabin, keeping a decent distance, when she heard him say,
"I assume you are Captain Hamilton. My name is Elric Rolance, I need to have a word with you."

She snapped from her thoughts and looked to who he was speaking to. A short man dressed in officer attire, the years and travels have weathered his face. Though stern, he looked a reasonable man who could show compassion. Typical captain.

"Not so fast, pretty boy!" She shouted from behind, jogging to close the distance between the three. "I'll be speaking with the captain too!"
She reached the two men, and, after exchanging a threatening glance to the first man, she extended her hand in greeting to the captain. "Witmoore," She said, introducing herself in a rather rude fashion, "When are we leaving?"

William watched curiously as two individuals came aboard his ship. The first was a man, obviously of noble blood by his bearing and dress who stared down to of his crewmen. The second was a woman dressed in men's clothes who looked somewhat rumpled. As he watched them his approach his first officer came up to him. "We're all set Captain. Ready to sail when you give the order."

"Very good Mr. Thomas." The captain replied, keeping his attention on the new arrivals. The first to reach him was the noble man, the woman stopping at a recent distant behind him.

"I assume you are Captain Hamilton. My name is Elric Rolance, I need to have a word with you." William started to speak when the women barged forward.

"Not so fast, pretty boy!" She yelled as she closed the distance. "When are we leaving?"

"I'm assuming you are Miss Witmoore," The Captain said, turning his attention to her and giving her a warm, welcoming smile. "Welcome aboard His Majesty's Ship Spiteful. I'm Captain William Hamilton. We'll be leaving as soon as you are ready. Do you have any provisions or personal affects that need to be brought aboard? I could send some men to go get them. And we can discuss the nature of your assignment here aboard the ship as well as your quarters once we've set sail." He then turned his attention to the young noble. "Well here is as good of a place as any to talk good sir, though I'll have to ask you to be quick. What exactly is it that you need of me?" Behind them the crew started to mill about, their duties done, now just waiting to be under way. The contingent of marines came up on deck after now that all their gear and equipment had been properly stowed.

"If the wind is against us, all the better," Tommy said. "It will be against our enemies too. But I think you're right, we should let the captain decide. You're the navigator, you inform him we have a course." At least when he was first officer on his uncle's ship, Tommy could plot a course, notify the captain, and give the order to sail. If his uncle tried this, they could be well out to sea by now, on thier way, about halfway to Yorkshire, if not the Scottish border. "Now, where is the captain?" Tommy started looking around to try and find the captain. He hoped he could find him, or at least Atlas, fast, before the British forces started searching the ships leaving the Estuary. The next tide was in an hour, and by that time, the Navy would be ready, assuming the pirates would try and escape with the rest of the merchantmen and the fishermen.

"Not so fast, pretty boy!" A women about his age barged past him, catching Elric by surprise. Pretty boy? He patiently waited as the women and the Captain exchanged words, a little annoyed at her need to draw everyone's attention. The Captain approached Elric, speaking in a friendly manner. "Captain Hamilton, as I stated before my name is Elric Rolance. My father is Earl Rolance and I am betrothed to the Princess. There is obviously an age gap between us of ten years, so as you can assume it is an arranged marriage." One of Elric's biggest problems is that he was brutally honest when he chose to be. He didn't hide his views on anything besides what he wanted to hide.

"I can already tell you are wondering why I bothered telling you any of this. I am going with you. I have to help her, or else I feel will completely useless. It's not a feeling I'm accustomed to and do not wish to experience. Now you maybe wondering why I told you who my father is. It wasn't to boast, as much as it was to coerce. I will join this voyage, one way or another. Now, we can stand here and argue, thus delaying your inevitable glory as being the one to save the Heir to the Throne. Or, we can be underway and you can tell me everything you know about the pirates we are pursuing." Elric wore a constant smile during his little monologue. Many would relate it to a mischievous fox.