Year 765 Manuk Soulstone
Rhea waits until Ruffin was fast asleep in his bunk to leave the room, only bringing so much as her dagger strapped to her leg out of their shared room. That hour of the night, the only real sounds she can hear are the soft laps of the ocean and the creaking of the Nightmare Maiden. It is a shock that she can’t even hear the mass of people further down the ship. Earlier, she heard them move about with excited chatter.
It's normal for the crew to get together and have a party. The captain isn’t opposed to the activity if people still show up to work, keep the ship clean, and no one gets hurt. Those are his three main concerns; he confidently stated to her just in case she was ever interested in partaking in such activities. Rhea never attended a party or even drank alcohol. Her life is on the constant run, meant exactly that. She had no time to enjoy anything without persecution.
Here, she could finally test out the craziness of the festivities. The woman giddily bounds towards the stairs, following them down to reach the very bottom. By then, she could hear the festive laughter and the strong smell of alcohol drift up to her nostrils.
So strong. Her eyes tear up, not sure if she likes the smell or not. Nothing could compare with the stench that collects so heavily in the belly of the ship. It is a shock that the ship wasn’t drunk from it. Rhea takes a step, and whoever saw her hollered at her existence like it was easy to miss, bringing a wave of complete silence amongst the crowd.
“AHOY! IT’S THE CAPT’S NEW PET!”
All able eyes land on her; she glares right back, hating the attention at once. She is not meek to let such a comment slide, finding the culprit in the mass of heads. A man she recognizes as the one that scrubs the deck. Found you…
“SHUD UP!” Another voice chirps up, pushing through the crowd. It belongs to one man she is happy to see: Jerold. “Dun’t mind ‘em boneheads. Here.”
Rhea shook off her original annoyance, only replaced by confusion when Jerold shoved a large wooden cup of dark orange foaming fluid into her grasp. No water in her life ever looked like this.“What is this?”
“Sum mead, best to take it if ya plan to spar. Gets the blood pumpin’” Jerold grins, he ropes an arm around her arm in the friendliest approach, guiding her to where he must have been sitting. There are others circling around a makeshift table and chairs: Cid, Trevor, and a foggy-goggled Iggy.
She tenses up from his guidance, and even more when she saw Iggy. “You too?”
“Heh, they are takin’ up me workspace so ya bet I was gonna be a part of it. Shock to see ya tho-“ Iggy fixes his foggy goggles; with those over his eyes, it is hard to tell what color they are.
“Why? This one’s a warrior!” Cid exclaims, smacking Iggy’s back hard enough to have the poor lad’s brown cap tilt.
Trevor remains completely silent, drinking his mead without even acknowledging Rhea.
Hello to you to….pr-
“Rhea! Sit down! We been goin’ over the rules and people fightin’. Last time, the big guy won, so now he’s gonna be the last to fight.”
Jerold tries to explain the situation. She sips the mead and blinks at the odd sweetness in it.
“A shame… me muscles are gettin’ smaller, waitin’.” Cid whined, chugging his second cup of mead. Iggy shook his head at the half-giant next to him.
“Yas get a chance. Tis mean’s if ya join this spar ya will be the first to go.” Jerold finishes his explanation, looking expectantly at Rhea, who is still struggling to get the next sip in.
Is alcohol supposed to be sweet?
“Yes. What should I expect?” Rhea takes a few more sips, hating the sweetness, but since she didn’t want to be rude, she kept drinking. The effects of sneaking alcohol haven’t dawned on her.
“Gud. Ya be facing off Golius one of the hands.” Jerold clarifies, pointing to a few crowds behind them.
“Who?” Rhea inquires, squinting at some people but having no luck placing a name to the face that owns it.
“Pfft. That’s just cruel.” Iggy chokes from a laugh.
Jerold shares Iggy’s smile, “Honestly, dun’t blame the lass. The idiot called her a capt’s pet.”
I was not trying to be hum- Rhea finds out who they are referring to. The same man who hollered earlier to insult her in front of everyone. He’s going to taste her revenge. “Oh…THAT, Golius.”
“Remember, lass. No weapons, just yar fists and wits…no killin’ either.” Jerold insists, waving at her face to break her glare.
“Yep…no killing.” Breaking bones maybe?
“Oh hoh! Them eyes are a warrior’s! DIG THE MAN A GRAVE!” Guffaws, Cid, he smacks Iggy on the center of his back, causing him to spill his mead.
“Damn it Cid!? Calm yaself”
Trevor said nothing throughout the whole interaction, only acknowledging the instant Cid’s laughter by quirking his brow. With the way things are between Rhea and him, it is best this way.
“Lass just r’member to have fun.” Jerold beams at them all, including Trevor. Then he left his drink on the table, walking to what is likely the center of this madness. She notices the center had carpets lining the floor and a barrier of barrels making a huge circle for the arena. “Get roarin’ folks. And ‘member this is for fun. No weapons. No deaths or capt will have our stinkin’ heads. Set ya bets now cuz up next is our newest crewmember versin’ our seasoned hands. Rhea and Golius.”
The masses roar in glee, pounding their many booted heels to the wooden ground. This could be heard for miles. Rhea shifts her gaze at the stairway, expecting the captain to just burst down there.
“We have permission to have a party tonight.” Trevor mutters out of nowhere and probably to himself.
It helps her be at ease. She took another swig of this disgusting drink and moved towards the arena. She saw the man named Golius already at the center of the arena, stretching out his biceps.
Shirtless was the first thing she noticed. The next were the intricate black tattoos that decorated his pectoral muscles. He is in shape like a lot of people on this ship, just not as toned as Cid or even the captain of what she could note earlier. The male is around seventy inches in height, taller than her but shorter than the captain. Long brown hair tied low in a ponytail; his face is gruff from the sun and an unkempt beard.
“Be this even fair for the capt’s pet?” The sneer from this man rubs her the wrong way. And something very evil tore down her inhibitions, making her next words extremely insulting. “What is not fair is having to see you shirtless.”
“Blimey! The lass can bite!” Jerold chuckles while this Golius character fumes.
Rhea shakes her head, confused by her symptoms. It is making her hostile, which isn’t like her.
Not while there is a need to get to know the crew and better their perspective on her. Rhea leaps over the barrel barrier, facing Golius, who is now cracking his knuckles.
That is an unforgiving look on his face. Great.
“Let the match begin!”
After that, Golius swings a fist towards her face. Her reaction is sluggish at best, leaning to the side to dodge it. His reaction isn’t much faster. Her hands reach for his forearm and reel it in with her as she slides right behind him. Twisting his arm behind him, then sweeping his weak foot underneath him, making him fall. Rhea releases his arm, flexing her fingers. Her bones feel like they are vibrating, and her eyesight blurs around the edges. What is going on?
The man fell face first onto the carpet that still had some sandy dust on it. The draft of the sand in her nose made her stick her tongue out in disgust. “Gross.”
The crowd ‘ooh’ed at the action.
Golius rolls himself back on his feet, face dirtier by the dusty rug, spitting at the carpeted floor, giving her more reason not to touch it. “Ye'll regret that there, lass.”
“The only fear I have is for you. You should wash your face now.” Rhea motions her hand over her own face to show the discrepancies to the drunken pirate. He didn’t take her suggestion at all, getting on his boots and chancing a few more swings. She ducks and weaves around him, stepping to his right every time since he favored the opposite side. He catches on, lunging to grapple her. She hops over his head and uses him to propel off. His balance is thrown off, but this time he rights himself. She lands on her heeled foot, slightly losing balance with that additional half-inch heel.
Damn these shoes!
Golius isn’t done with her. As soon as he recovers, he tries to punch her again, even after so many failed attempts. Even the audience was losing interest in this match.
What do they expect? Her speed is unmatched even with these strange symptoms clouding her mind.
Rhea had to end it, letting him lunge at her again, and she can see the clear pathway for her heeled foot. Instantly, she kicks upward, her heeled foot crashing into the ‘v’ of his chin. Rhea didn’t need all the strength to cause a lot of pain; his landing of his lunging did all the work for her. The impact had him biting his tongue, and the blood spurted between his gritted teeth. Blood stirred the crowd to cheer instead of the opposite effect. Rhea tries not to overthink it, seeing him hobbling over on the ground to cradle his aching face. Besides, he deserves it for calling her the captain’s pet. The reckless smile spread on her face, kneeling next to the hobbled man and prodding him on his shaking shoulder.
“Do you forfeit, mister?”
Golius mumbles, nodding his head. Rhea peers at Jerold, noticing the shock in his face.
“Well, that there does it. The lass wins without a scratch on ‘er.” Jerold waves her to get out, turning towards the crowd. “NEXT UP-”
Rhea didn’t listen in, crawling out of the arena and ignoring the side glances of Golius’s friends when they helped him out of there. He isn’t in terrible condition; he just needs minor medical attention for his bitten tongue. At least, he only bit into it. He could have bit it clean off, and they would have had to produce a crazy explanation to the captain. That man doesn’t look like he fooled easily. When she got back to the barrel-made table, she saw Trevor get up to walk towards the arena. Rhea blinks at the apathetic male as he passes her. He didn’t acknowledge her, more focused on the arena ahead. Anyways, she didn’t have much time to investigate since Cid forced another full cup of mead into her hands. M-more?!
“Harrharr, a true warrior, drinks to full! An’ye must to face me, Rhea!” Cid sounds so confident that he will win, it stirs the competitiveness in her. Even though he triples her by size alone.
“I accept your challenge.” Rhea chugs more of this disgusting mead, feeling another symptom. The dull warmth all over her body, a pleasurable buzz rode through her till she was pink in her face. What is this!?
“Ya both daft.” Iggy sat by his lonesome, counting the metal dollops in a full bag.
“What- hick -is that?” Rhea fights down the influx of hiccups, sitting right across from the workaholic and pointing to the bag. Everything moves so slowly and blurry around her; her inhibitions are out the window as well. As if anything she says or does now will not be filtered through correctly.
“Me bettin’ winnings, lass. I’ll get ya somethin’ in the next town. Ya know, fer yar lovely contribution.” Iggy is genuine with his words to someone that should be a bona fide pirate.
“Ye should give ‘er more than cheap trinkets” Cid looms over Iggy like a giant, friendly shadow, his smile not insinuating anything.
“R-right! Help me think of sumthing later, lass” Iggy blushes, as if the request is asking too much and he is embarrassed by it.
“You are the- hick -nicest pira- hick -I have ever met! Why did you join the crew?” The whining voice of her inhibition never rose above the ocean thick of her brashness. She saw nothing wrong with the question yet.
“Well…” Iggy shifts in his seat; it is obvious he isn’t looking to answer that at all.
“Capt’ an’ meself go aft since we was children on this here ship. ‘e still acts the same but taller.” Cid answers instead, not as shy about it.
Rhea is too drunken to question Iggy’s sudden silence, her attention on the big bloke. The fighting commences and it is starting to get too hard to watch any of it with all the screaming bets.
Trevor won this time and without any takers to face off against Cid, it is now Rhea’s turn against the big half-giant. But after the third forceful helpings of the sugary mead stuff, Rhea no longer had any questions or care about anything. The thrill of the battle is all she had and maybe this strange buzzing going through her body. This drink even numbs her mana. Not once had she felt the urge to burn anything. Doused by the euphoric side effects. She had no control of herself, leaping onto the carpeted arena completely drunk with power. Her mouth set into a broad smile, pacing to goad her opponent—Cid—to fight.
“You- hick -might be too big for some- hick -doors but you will- hick- lose to me today!” Rhea sways a little where she stands, not at all there to fight.
“Ya might 'ave drank too much, lass.” Jerold points out, not calling the competition to action.
“I am FINE!” Rhea bounces to shake off the blurring around her eyesight.
She sticks her tongue out at the laughing Cid. “Shut- hick -it. I can still win!”
“So be it. Begin!” Jerold calls the match.
