Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Feb 2, 2013 19:24:40 GMT -6
The room smelled strongly of smoke and cheap ale. Several shady figures lounged in corners, eyes glittering as they toyed with knives or talked quietly with equally shady companions. Arland had long ago learned that these figures were more often trying to hide behind a veneer of mystery than not and, on a related tangent; that these types were on frequent occasion nervous and easily conned. In short; they were exactly the kind of felines he wanted to hang around with.
Not at all like the "Crow's Nest", where he had been attacked on more than one occasion (he'd probably had it coming); and where every potentially shady figure was undoubtedly quite so. Especially now that they were to some degree aware of him; it would be foolish to try and commit a con of any kind in that place. Not that he wasn't capable of defending himself, provided that his weapons were close to hand. But a clean con always felt more satisfactory, somehow.
He licked rum from his whiskers and stood, adjusting his waistcoat as he made his way back towards the bar. Lounging against it, moving his head from side to side in a feigned drunken fashion, he was able to see all the comings and goings. Able to pick his next target.
Oh, this was going to be good.
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Post by Seaver Caln on Feb 2, 2013 19:41:06 GMT -6
Seaver watched the captain of the ship he was currently on, and currently leaving, counting out the coins into a small leather bag. The cat looked up at him then handed over the pouch. Seaver took it and felt its weight. With a satisfactory grunt he left the cabin, putting his unlit pipe in his mouth and the bag on his belt. Sauntering across the deck, he left the ship and decided to head to a pub to spend some of his well-earned pay.
The jagurundi pushed open the door and went to the bar ordering a drink, ignoring the apparently drunk cat leaning against it. The bartender handed him a full cup and Seaver retreated to a corner and lit his pipe without touching it. The glow it gave off briefly lit up the area around him. He pulled on pipe and let the sweet smelling smoke drift into the air where it combined with the scent of rum and other such drinks.
Sniffing in displeasure, Seaver brought the cup to his lips and drank it slowly; watching the other cats over the rim. No, this wasn’t a place where everyone had a knife in paw, but one still had to be careful for one never knew what might happen.
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Feb 2, 2013 19:58:19 GMT -6
Arland inhaled deeply. Could he smell...fruit? Was that kid smoking...fruit? Geez, the way things were going these days...soon they'd all be drinking cordial and eating pine needles.
But something caught his eye. This feline, whoever he was, had several golden hoops piercing his ears. Were they real gold, though? There was only one way to find out- in any case, they seemed a lot more interesting than some of the rubbish Arland managed to acquire. With slight lurching movements (he'd long ago ceased to be embarrassed by this particular pretense), the snow leopard made his way over to the small cat and fumbled with a chair.
"That an eenteresting pipe yeev got there, laddie," he said, indicating the object in question.
Only then did he realise that, contrary to his earlier belief, this was not a young animal- it was only the room's dim lighting that had made him think so. No, this feline was probably closer to his own age- he was just a really small cat. Arland silently cursed this initial oversight.
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Post by Seaver Caln on Feb 2, 2013 20:28:45 GMT -6
Seaver’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the snow leopard from the bar came tottering over and blundered with a chair beside him. He wasn’t a particularly trusting feline, especially when it came to being in pubs with other seafarers; as most were conmen and liars, doing whatever it took to gain a coin or two. As the larger cat talked about Seaver’s pipe, he inserted it back into his mouth then took it out, blowing the smoke into the other feline’s face.
“Ya talkin’ ‘bout the pipe isself ‘r what I’m smokin’?” He knew that most cats thought it strange when they smelled the burning fruit, but Seaver had long ago stopped caring about what they thought.
He puffed out another cloud, this time shaping the white haze into a perfect model of a ship and sent it sailing gently towards the snow leopard. Before it touched the cat though, the ship transformed into a flintlock pistol then dissipated a moment later, leaving only the smell behind.
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Feb 3, 2013 14:58:35 GMT -6
Arland resisted the urge to cough.. Apparently, smoke from fruit was still quite potent (even if it did smell a lot nicer than wood or tobacco smoke). As the image of the pistol dissipated before his eyes, he smiled across the table at the smaller feline. This fellow had some skill. Perhaps he could appeal to his pride?
"Both, methinks," he said. "Iss ben a while since ah sen a pipe all carved-like. An' the smoke; well, iss not e'vry day ye see a pipe full of fruit. That yeer own innovation?"
He'd always hated chairs. If he ended up in his thirties and with a bad back, he knew what he'd be blaming. The damn things seemed to have been invented by a creature which could function as a biped much better than he. A fox, maybe? He curled his tail about the leg and leaned forward, waiting for the small cat's response.
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Post by Seaver Caln on Feb 3, 2013 16:14:14 GMT -6
The snow leopard smiled at him, and then began to talk, but Seaver heard only one thing in his voice: flattery. Only two types of cats used it: those who really wanted to get on one’s good side as to not get hurt, and those who were going for a con. Seaver knew the tricks of the trade and decided that this cat was going for the latter, not the former. And if he was wrong, oh well.
He sat there, watching as the cat settle down in the chair (looking a bit uncomfortable as he did so) before he leaned in, waiting for Seaver to reply. In that moment the jagurundi decided to humor the cat. But first, he continued smoking the pipe, letting the silence between them deepen; making the situation even more awkward than it should have been.
At last Seaver removed the pipe from his mouth and reached for his cup with his other paw. After sipping from it and putting it back on the table, he said, “Why thankee, frien’, an’ no. Foun’ sum locals smokin’ it in sum far off lan’ awhile back. Ah thought it better than the foul smellin’ tobacco that most use.”
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Feb 5, 2013 18:45:56 GMT -6
"Issat right?"
Arland chuckled softly, deep in his throat. The awkward silence hadn't gone unnoticed, and he wondered if the pipsqueak was deliberately trying to make him uncomfortable. Well, two could play at that game!
He lurched forward suddenly, knocking the cup from the table. Pretending to be surprised, he then stood and extended a paw, palm up, towards the jaguarundi.
"Lemme get tha' for you, frien'. I mus' apologise fer such clumsiness."
Hardly able to keep himself from grinning, Arland went over to the fallen cup and made a show of trying to pick it up with one paw. There was no way he was going to be able to steal those rings now- he was more likely to get himself kicked out of the place. But, this was fun. And he was bored. There hadn't been much to do lately, with the Barracuda still being repaired and all. This game sure beat boredom.
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Post by Seaver Caln on Feb 7, 2013 16:30:17 GMT -6
The small cat was unprepared for the snow leopard’s sudden movement that knocked the cup over and onto the ground. Seaver leapt back and out of his chair, trying to avoid the drink as it splattered on the floor; the coins in the pouch at his side jingling in protest to his abrupt action. A flash of annoyance crossed his face but he quickly recomposed himself as he shook droplets from his hind paws. Why tha’ cheeky, blitherin’… Wha’cha tryin’ ta do, eh?
“Ach, ‘tis fine, ‘tis fine. Twasn’t a drink worth the pretty penny Ah’d paid fer it.”
He plastered a fake, unconcerned smile on his face as he scrutinized the cat through guarded eyes whilst it fiddled with the cup. He made no attempt to help the larger cat but instead pulled the chair back towards him and sat down once more. The tip of his tail flicked once as he settled into a more comfortable position. Pulling on his pipe, Seaver gave a curious glance before he took it from his lips.
“So, ya been anywhere interestin’… Oh! Ah don’t believe Ah ever caught yer name .”
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Feb 10, 2013 18:38:54 GMT -6
Arland replaced the cup at the edge of the table and flicked his ears. Making things up was always fun, but in this case the desire to do so was tempered by his pride. Perhaps this pipsqueak (a jagurundi, maybe?) would have heard of him? At the very least, he should have heard of the Barracuda. Or Ren. But it would be better to leave Ren out of this- no sense in distracting the possibly-a-jagarundi with talk of captains, after all!
"None o' the grog here is," he said, in response to the comment about the drink. "As fer me...well, Ah've seen mah fair share o' excitement. Ah'm from th' Barracuda. Maybe yeev heard o' it?"
Right, so- now that he'd gone and said that- there would obviously be no swindling here tonight. But perhaps thievery wasn't yet entirely out of the question- the cheetah by the door was looking remarkably unguarded, and it wouldn't be too hard for Arland to swipe his coin-purse as he passed him on his way out.
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Post by Seaver Caln on Feb 18, 2013 12:45:38 GMT -6
“The Barracuda, eh? Ah migh’ve heard o’ it. Interestin' ship ta be part of." Being on the seas as long as he had, one learned the names of vessels: the sturdiest, the fastest, the richest, and the rivals. Yes, Seaver had heard of the Barracuda, some things good, some things not so much. It was a smaller ship with a good captain who had worked his way to the top. Didn’t it have sharks or something, too?
What was the captain’s name again? Right, Ren, a puma. Seaver examined the snow leopard for a moment. So who is this cat?
His ears twitched, causing the rings on them to jingle.
“So, what’s yer name?”
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Feb 20, 2013 15:47:27 GMT -6
Arland cracked a smile. The jingling of the rings had momentarily caught his attention, but now he was back in the game. Which, in this case, was an accurate statement. It was a game they were playing, wasn't it? Pity there was no gold in it but, all the same, it was an enjoyable enough game.
"Mah name's Ivonne," he said, latching onto the first name that sprang into his head (and which didn't belong to Ren- that would be too obvious). "Ivonne Marie. Yes, ah know. Mah paren's evidently didn' love me enough. Wassabout you?"
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Post by Seaver Caln on Jul 21, 2013 13:38:14 GMT -6
Seaver pulled the pipe from his mouth, struggling to keep his face passive. He failed miserably after a moment. His free paw came down hard on the tabletop several times as he tried to control his bouts of laughter, creating a disturbance in the otherwise, rather quiet room. Several cats turned toward the duo, casting disapproving glances mainly at Seaver, a few though were pointed at Ivonne. The jaguarundi completely ignored the hard glares he was getting from the sundry cats scattered about and, after he had calmed, replied, “Apperenly they didn’. As fer me?”
Going with his gut Seaver was not about to give his real name, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to tell the snow leopard the truth. Not like the other cat would have known who he was anyways, for Seaver wasn’t a cat of fame or fortune, nor did he belong to a great ship of renown, not to mention any ship for that matter now. He was just a wandering, ship-less, and, if he wasn’t careful with his pay, a soon-to-be-poor pirate.
“Name’s Faris. Faris Rafe. A pleasure tah meet ya, Ivonne. So wha’ brin’s a crewmember o’ The Barracuda ‘ere, eh?”
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Jul 23, 2013 20:57:55 GMT -6
Arland ("Ivonne"? What was he thinking? He might as well have gone with "Marine"- at least she would have found some humour in the situation); shrugged and stretched out his paws.
Faris? I doubt it, mate. And you know I know: you could at least have chosen something amusing!
"Ah, y'know," he said, gesturing vaguely. "Take any 'pertunity t' stretch mah legs ashore. Not the best seafarer mahself. Lil' more than a deckhand."
Which was a lie, but what could he say? There was an art to playing to the idiot, and he liked to think he was pretty good at it. Although some would probably say that they didn't have to try very hard, but...well...those people were stupid.
(ooc: HOLY COW I CAN NOT GET A SCOTTISH ACCENT OUT OF MY HEAD sorry if he's sounding slightly Scottish. xD).
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Post by Seaver Caln on Jul 24, 2013 9:36:17 GMT -6
A mere deck’and my arse.
Any long-time seafarin’ cat with a pair of good eyes could see that the snow leopard was probably more than a deckhand. Besides, only a foolish cat in his position would believe the thinly strung together lie he was being told. Marie, as Seaver was going to start calling the much larger feline from now on, could be the master gunner, a mate, or maybe even the bosun. A quartermaster wasn’t out of the question either, but a common sailor? Not likely and Seaver was no fool. The pair was playing with each other and they both knew it.
“Oh, come now, yer not givin’ yerself any credit. Surely ye ent no landlubber. A cat like ye dun’t seem tah be the type.”
Seaver knew he was treading a thin line and he needed to pick his way carefully. He’d just insulted Marie and who knows how the cat was going to react. Get angry, or, more to Seaver’s thinking, keep the act up and admit that he was. Either way, this little game was going to continue.
(OoC: Well, as long he doesn’t say “wee” or anything with a glottal stop, I think it’ll be fine xD)
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Arland
Feline
First mate onboard the Barracuda.
Posts: 15
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Post by Arland on Aug 1, 2013 21:21:30 GMT -6
Arland cracked a smile.
"A deckhand is 'ardly a "landlubber", misser Rafe. But I suppose yer right. Ah mean, ahm a sailor and all; but..."
Here he shrugged; giving himself a moment to compose his thoughts. "Deckhand"- where had he even got that word? Nobody he knew used it, at least not very often. And what was he going to say now?
"Ah suppose not," he concluded, and shrugged again. "But I don't like tah ocean much. Not goin' to get far widdat kinda mindset. Howsabout yerself?"
His whiskers twitched as he caught a whiff of...something delicious, though he couldn't quite place the scent. Refusing to let curiosity get the better of him; he once more eyed the golden hoops in his companion's ears. Could he knock him out and steal them? Would it be worth it, to get thrown out of yet another establishment? Probably not. And it would be stupid, anyway. They were just playing games now. But what was the time? Hadn't Ren wanted him back for...something, near sunrise? Surely that was still a few hours away. And what had he wanted, anyway? Surely something dull, involving polishing cutlasses or some such nonsense. For the life of him; Arland could not fathom why the captain would hire a crew who couldn't even polish their own cutlasses.
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