Adventuring through twisted time.
He did so enjoy when the turning of the seasons began which brought the ships into the port of London. Not only did it bring more people into the city, it brought more people into the city he could rob. Devon sat on one of the many barrels towards the end of the dock of a large cargo that was currently being moved off of one of the many vessels waiting to unload. The knife he always kept on him cleanly cut over the apple he held, putting a piece of the fruit in his mouth. Nonchalantly, his eyes scanned the bustling scene. Hundreds of people were moving back and forth and it was easy to just become another one of those lost in the crowd of the market. He was good at that.
However, this wasn't just a normal visit to the sea on a sunny day. His bright blue hues landed on each of the Rogues that were strategically placed around the docks, all acting as lookouts for the scheme they were about to pull. They each gave him a nod to indicate everything was well on their end. Taking the last bite of the apple, he tossed the core into the water as he felt two figures move behind him "Looks good. Saw the crew leave the ship and Emerald's got the attention of the one that was left behind."
Devon smirked coyly as he wiped the blade across his shirt and put it back in its sheath. "We don't pay that girl enough." Standing, the Rogue took the lead as he headed towards the ship they had targeted. It was on the farthest part of the docks where less people were mingling about making it much easier to take the time to fully see what might be inside worth taking before being noticed. His gaze locked with Emerald for only a moment as she kept the sailor's back turned to them, making it easy to slip aboard without being noticed by the crewman who was failing in his duties. Not that he could blame the man. He had undoubtedly been on sea for who knows how long and the company of one of the girls at the Dragon Lady was probably the best thing he'd seen in a days.
They hurried up along the plank and onto the deck of the ship where nothing stirred but the birds above that soared in circles to land on the mast. After a quick search of the area, they lowered themselves into the dark hold where several crates were stored. Milo whistled at the take and spoke up. "James said they are a small fishing crew, but word has it they've been stealing from the people in Winchester."
"Is that so..." Devon muttered, pulling the lid from the wood and peering below. Inside held many leather goods which was a big deal for the people of Winchester. This was something highly sought after and the price that was paid for them helped the families there enormously. He should know having grown up there. "Seems the rumors are correct." He stood and eyed the amount of crates. It would take a while to go through and they didn't have the time to waste.
They pulled themselves back out of the hold and into the brightened sun once more where he glanced at Emerald who had the sailor completely enraptured by now. The three men stayed low as she was finally able to take him down the dark alley of one of the buildings giving them a bit of freedom. "You two head back up to grab a couple of the others along with the cart. I'll start checking the crates." The pair of Rogues headed off in a hurry and he went back to the cargo below.
It would be a grueling task, but one that would be worth it in the end. He'd be sure to see about having some words with the ship's Captain as well. Just as Devon had pulled another of the lids off, a sound came above that gave him pause. Surely Emerald wasn't finished yet with the sailor and the others couldn't have been back already. Was someone else on the ship? "Shit..." he cursed lowly, stepping back into the darkness and away from where the sun shone through the hole from above. Why couldn't things just go to plan?
The dock bell rang and the smells from the town rushed into the crew quarters which sent them running to the deck. They cheered and sang their sea shanties at the site of the shore knowing they'd be ship free for the next few days. Hawk stood among the men he'd been sailing with the last few months feeling rather outcast by them; this wasn't the crew he started with and he would forever resent that. A cool breeze brushed past Hawk and jolted the thought that the last time he was here he was cursed. It was an out of body experience being back here and he wondered if those he knew before remained in town or had moved on with the time. He was anxious and relieved he'd be free of this boat and this crew because though they saved his life from the sirens that threatened him, he hated how they governed and performed. They were sloppy and nearsighted on a goal to goal basis.
"Hawk!" The Captain's rough voice rang out and warranted a heavy huff from Hawk. He dropped his head and mumbled under his breath as his eyes rose to the captain. "Stay on the ship and do inventory you can leave once we're back." The Captain laughed out with his men as they all unloaded from the ship all while Hawk's anger slowly rose. "That-" he held his tongue just then feeling his eyes turn from the vibrant blue to deep amber. Instead, he lent the captain a curt nod and watched the crew as they left, leaving him with just a straggle few dimwits.
Hawk rolled his eyes as he stormed off to his quarters first to cool off and get the inventory log. "This wasn't what we agreed to!" Hawk hollered as he entered the storeroom. "You should have left me to drown with those Sirens! I was better with them..." He shouted again this time looking up towards where he entered but it was clear he wasn't speaking to anyone just complaining to himself. "...No... No I wasn't that be a lie." He huffed out as his eyes, at last, skimmed over the inventory list as he began to check the crates. He froze to the sound of what he thought was movement but began moving again determining it was just the usual cricks of this old ship.
The next time he froze was for a different reason as his eyes settled on the leather which caused him to clear his throat as a nervous tick. He looked back down at the list and then scoured the crates in confusion and frustration "None of these are sugar, tea or rum. Fuck!" He silently snarled to himself no longer able to keep his eyes from burning orange in his anger. He hissed and flicked his wrist hurling the dagger on his waist towards Devon but twitching his fingers ever so slightly to the left to guide it to just miss him without touching it. The dagger buried itself in the wood beside Devon. "Touch that dagger and your hand will be burning for the rest of your life, mate." He growled out towards the man hidden behind a wooden post and dusted with shadows. "You belong here just as much as these bloody damn crates do which is not at all! So if you step out now... I probably won't show you any mercy but it'd just be better for both of us." His words at a bit lower but very doused in scepticism and seriousness.
Devon remained still behind the post as the man he hadn't accounted for strode into the hold. He silently cursed himself for not checking again to make sure the ship had been cleared before coming aboard, but time wasn't on their side. The sound of his boots echoed in the space until finally stopping at the cargo and noting the leather that Devon would very much like to take with him. The Rogue couldn't help but note that it seemed the crewman was unaware of what his captain was really doing while sailing under him. Regardless, Devon wasn't about to make himself known or bargain his way out of the situation yet. With any luck he'd just continue counting the inventory and be on his merry before...
Thunk. A knife sailed through the air and broke through the wood of the pillar next to him which brought him back from this thoughts. "Shit," he muttered, stepping out and seeing the man for the first time. Devon wasn't sure whether or not he planned on making good with his threat, but he wasn't about to tempt his luck either. Instinctively, he felt the weight of Excalibur on his hip, but this wasn't exactly the easiest place to pull it from its home. They were in tight quarters. Trying to pull the weapon in here would only slow him down. Seems this would have to possibly be done in another way which was fine by him if necessary. He was brawling in the streets since he was a lad.
Devon walked slowly forward towards the man while putting his hands in his pockets to prove as nonchalant as he could be. "Looks like I chose the wrong ship today." He tried to listen for the sounds of the Rogues possibly returning soon. "Or maybe the right one. You said there's supposed to be rum here, ey?" Maybe he could buy some time. If anything, he needed to keep the crewman busy long enough for them to get back so he wouldn't be able to warn the rest of the crew in town. Not to mention it would be nice to have some backup should this man prove that he wasn't going to take kind to Devon having a go at their cargo.
He was a good reader of people. It wasn't hard to see this man had been through some shit in his life and suddenly Devon was thinking the only way out of this would be through. Violently. His gift of talk was probably not going to sway the sailor and he wasn't carrying much coin on him for his silence on the matter as they happily took the crates with them. Wishful thinking. "As for the mercy, I never see much of that in my life anyway." He quickly grabbed the lid off one of the barrels and hurled it across the space. It splintered against the man while Devon charged ahead as the distraction was long enough for him to wrap his arms around his opponent and go falling into crates and other cargo that lay about.
He was stalling, and Hawk knew he was stalling and he still let him. He watched him carefully and examined everything he could about the man before him in the dim lantern light. In the past, you could say Hawk was socially inept and wouldn't have caught on to the scene unfolding before him but now as a seasoned scallywag, he caught it the moment Devon shoved his hands in his pockets. That sword. It piques his interest immediately because he recognises it and that brings his eyes back up to Devons. He entertains his words and Hawk wasn't opposed to the proposal laid before him as he had no loyalty to the crew of this ship aside from being grateful they saved him from that deserted island.
His hand gently touches the shell bracelet upon the opposite wrist at his thoughts. His eyes scanned back down to the sword, he knew it was too tight to draw it which is why he himself hadn't drawn his own. It made him wonder how Hathor's Sword of Ptah would stand up against The Lady of the Lake's Caladfwlch. He smirked and hummed to himself amused at the thought of a friendly spar between him and this man brandishing their rare mythical weapons. His smirk melting away as he discovers the knife about his belt. Now that, he could draw and Hawk's was nicely lodged into the wood behind the man before him and though he could simply just flick his wrist, or whistle, or even think the knife back towards him he still became uneasy at how close Devon continued to become.
His body language became defensive and his words become none existent as he now prepared for what he saw coming. Now as a pirate Hawk was never unprepared for the dirty fight bracing as the lid shatters across his chest and remaining so because he knew Devon would collide with him next. He rolled around the floor with him, tussling but not trying to hurt him, just trying to detain him and defend himself. Who knows maybe they would both just grow tired after a while and take a moment to catch their breath while sharing a drink and a laugh. Seeing as this wrestling match had just begun however they were far from that moment.
Again, Hawk didn't wish to hurt this man, mainly because Devon had the opportunity to draw his knife and didn't. So Hawk respected that and fought like a man and not the mystic he was, using none of his magic and they rolled about this rocking ship's storage. Devin had started the fight dirty though so he would be met with the same tactics. Hawk's back was on the ground with Devon above him making it seem like Devon had the upper hand. Removing one hand from his attacker he reached down to the ground and scratched up the sand which was probably mixed with sugar and dirt at this point into his fist. He took a breath and took aim before hurling this makeshift pocket sand into Devon's eyes. Giving him just enough of an advantage to use Devon as a shield knowing he likely wasn't alone but not enough of an advantage to get out of his grip and off of the floor.
As the two went falling to the floor, more of the ship's cargo went spilling about them. Bottles and sugar spilled around which made for an uncomfortable landing. Not that that was the biggest problem before him. Devon planted one booted foot on the ground as he knelt over the man and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. With his free hand, he reached back to land a punch just as his opponent tossed the spilled sugar into his face. He immediately let go of the man and fell, rubbing his face in an attempt to clear his vision. Not being able to see the man you were fighting was not the best position to be in. Devon sat up and scrambled backwards until hitting one of the ship's wooden posts hard. The sharp pain ran up his back, but it was nothing compared to the burning in his eyes. "You little shite," he muttered, wishing there was something else besides the rum that could wash the sugar from his face.
Despite the blurred shapes that were all he could make out now, Devon reached for one of the bottles and tossed it at the man in some attempts to buy some time. The Rogue blinked furiously and caught sight just above him of a cargo net from the sunlight streaming in from the hold's hole above. He scrambled for the rope and unlatched it from the wooden peg, watching as the boxes tumbled from their home. They were of course right above the sailor and Devon found great delight at watching them fall on top of him, splintering on the floor.
In all of the tussling, he realized he was now on the side of an escape. He hurriedly got to his feet, but not before grabbing another bottle of rum for all this trouble. Devon ran for the stairs. His vision was still rather clouded and when he reached the first step, he stumbled forward, crashing into the rest hard. The bottle of rum was still unharmed. Small victory. Half crawling, Devon clambered up the steps in an attempt to get to the top of the deck. If the Rogues weren't here by now, he had to assume this plan was going to be a bust and one he would happily like to be rid of as fighting a man without the use of his eyes was not exactly his idea of a good time.
Why was he defending this ship so? He cared not for the men, nor the cargo and it was likely this Rogue had much better plans for the smuggled goods than the rats to whom they currently belonged. If anything could be said of Hawk it was that he was loyal even against his own greater good. If he gave his word he meant it and if he owed a debt he paid in full however that meant. These men saved Hawk from an island lost at sea surrounded by sirens and they weren't the typical lot to do such a thing. Hawk still needed to decide however if he were grateful or bitter, for you see he believed he'd one day have a watery death. A death he'd already accepted many moons ago. He still owed them his life in the interim of him deciding if he was happy to live or if he still wished he were d e a d.
Now while Hawk had threatened the man first Devon was the first to attack. So one might say that at this moment Hawk was just retaliating. Or maybe he was truly defending the stolen goods? Who knows what's true of a pirate's intent these days? A dry chuckle slipped out of him hearing the rogue complain about the sugar in his eyes. Trying to scurry to be the first to his feet and get his legs beneath him. Hawk huffed trying to catch his breath once upright; groaning out a string of curses as Devon didn't seem to relent. He caught the bottle that flew towards him so distracted by the validity he had, in fact, caught it he didn't notice the crates falling until they crashed down on him.
He grumbled beneath the crates with a wince or a few deciding this was a bigger ordeal than it needed to be and quite frankly he was losing his patience. He took a simple breath, let his eyes glow and floated upwards allowing him to pass right through the crates, right through the roof above. Emerging from the floor like the crypt keeper rising out to collect a wayward soul. Sprouting up right in front of Devon, no longer caring about the appearance of passing for human. He let out a short frustrated huff as if to say look at what you made me do while his vibrant eyes returned to their normal shade and vibrancy. "I'm impressed, but if I let you take that rum, it'll be my head." He gave a faint shrug as he spoke and still a man of some sort of honour he put up his fists to fight the man fairly. "No magic. No tricks. No men."
Stumbling up the stairs, he was glad to feel the sun on his back, knowing he'd finally reached the deck. He took a moment to bring the bottom of his shirt up and wipe at his eyes again which only pained him more as the grains scratched in all the wrong places. "Little prick," he grumbled and opened his eyes where it was still somewhat blurry. He yanked at the cork in the bottle and took a large swig of the dark rum inside, pleasantly surprised that it was actually pretty good. Devon felt he rather deserved it too after this shit show and looked out over into the streets where only a straggler merchant or two was passing by and would give no second thought to him being there. However, this also meant the boys were not here yet which made him curse.
With another swig of the drink, the Rogue headed to the other side of the ship and his way off. That was until the man he'd just been tussling with some moments ago was rising through the deck as if a ghost directly in front of him. Nearly choking on the rum which dribbled slightly from his mouth, he stumbled backwards and stared at the man that somehow became a solid form again and stood directly in his path. "What. The. Fuck." They were the only words that came to mind then as he tried to figure out just what in the hell he'd witnessed. "This is either some really good rum or I've not taken you as seriously as I should've." Devon tried to guess as to what he actually was cause human wasn't it. Nothing he'd ever heard of necessarily fit that whole 'passing through walls' checklist except for those that could use magic. Great. He would target a ship that had a fucking mystic on board.
Devon kept the slight distance between himself and his opponent. He could easily pull Excalibur now that they were here in the open and though he wasn't exactly a master of his weapon, he would at least feel a bit more on the same playing field since the blade had its own magical properties. It was certainly a bitch to wield. However, his eyebrows raised when he heard the man wanted to have a fair fight. Now it was he who was underestimating Devon. A smirk came to his lips then as he looked to the pirate. "I think you better stick with your tricks." The man didn't waver. The Rogue shrugged then and tipped back the bottle to gulp down more of its contents. "You should know I've already finished about half of this, so your Captain is going to take the piss out of you either way. Unless you've got some magic that can get this liquid gold back out of me. Or maybe make some more." He cocked his head at the idea of this. "And if you can make some more by waving around your hands, I'd really like to be your friend."
He placed the bottle down on a nearby barrel and raised his fists. "Let's see what you got then." The fact that despite clearly having an advantage over him, the man didn't choose to use it. There was honor there. Devon couldn't help but wonder what he was doing on a ship like this in the first place. "Name's Devon. What do I have the pleasure of calling you, mate? Protector of rum? Savior of sugar? Ah! Counter of goods?"