The chase

|:| O O C |:|

Since this is last winter, Ronnica would be sixteen. Anyhow, I hope it was all right posting ;)

|:| I C |:|

Thick clouds rolled overhead, blotting out even the slightest hint of sunlight and coloring the skies a powdery gray. Gulls flew around in the air, screeching, their wings restless as they let the air currents carry them. Below, a middle-sized ship sped through the sea, leaving behind a trail of smoke. It was sparkling and shiny, all clean. Either it was new, or someone took very good care of it. All in all, one could say the ship was beautiful, and even the strongest-minded critiques wouldn't be able to disagree. The passengers, however, were a different story.

Quite a lot of pendragons were onboard, and they were of the higher social class. Ladies floated around the deck, smiling coquetishly, some hiding their faces behind fans. Their partners stomped majestically around, an air of dignity around them. Slipping and making their way through this crowd was a number of ladies in waiting, manservants and stewards. It was enough to make one's stomach turn, especially if they weren't used to parties of this sort.

Ronnica wasn't. The pale sixteen-year old female was leaning against the railings of one of The Mariquine's numerous decks. Her back was to the water, and she was propped up on her elbows, her fingers toying absent-mindedly with about five small pouches that hung on a string around her neck. She wasn't wearing any clothes apart from a blue bandana that held her black hair in place. It was of course admissible, as many pendragons disliked this extra burden, but still some of the passing dames gave Ronnica an odd look here and there. The girl just smiled at them, pretending not to notice. But to be honest, she was getting rather bored of this whole trip. She wouldnt've come anyway, but her mother had insisted.

A brown pendragoness, a light beige gown draped across her body, padded towards Ronnica. She was nearing forty, and though she had evidently tried to hide the lines that came with this age, they still showed under a film of make-up. She was holding a glass of a clear liquid in her right paw, but somehow Ronnica doubted that it was pure water. The youngling sized the chocolate female up and gave a feeble smile.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mother?" Ronnica asked, trying to keep the irony out of her voice.

"Of course I am, Ronnica Vox!" her mother replied, agitated. She frowned at her daughter, "But I can tell that you're not. You should move around a little, make friends with other young girls of your age. You've been standing here for an hour or so already."

"I've tried," sighed the pale pendragon exasperadly, "But I can't find anyone I could talk to. The pendragons here are not interested in Biology or nature ot healing or anything. I've been talking with someone when we suddenly saw dolphins accompanying our ship. Would you believe what that pendragon said? 'Dolphin meat is very tasty and goes well with dame-liquer.' Would you believe it? I just can't make ackuaintance with people like that."

"You shouldn't be so demanding," said her mother, tight-lipped. She sipped the liquid from her glass, "And you should pick your friends more carefully. They aren't the sort that an adolescent girl should hand out with."

"Excuse me," growled Ronnica, surprised at her sudden temper. But the old grudge that she had held against her parents ever since they sent her off, unprepared, to the Janardan Academy hadn't dissapeared. It probably never will, even though her mother had tried hard to make up. But interfering in Ronnica's business and attempting to guide her choices wasn't the best way to start and it was no wonder that Ronnica felt a little mad.

"I'm sorry Mother, but I think I can make my own choices. Personally, I find this excursion boring, and I'm surprised you invited me along. It's not as if we've been in contact for more than two months, you know. And old hatred is hard to get rid off. As for my friends, I usually look inside and search for the spirit. All of the pendragons who like me and whom I like are unique in their own way, even if it is just an original hobby or their passion for something I like as well. I'm not satisfied with the superficial characters milling around me here, on this boat, and there's no way that you are making me like them."

The brown female look shocked at hearing her daughter's angry tone. She swayed in surprise, steadying herself at the last moment. She considered telling Ronnica off, after all children shouldn't talk to their parents in this way. But she decided against it and walked off with one last wide-eyed stare.

Ronnie watched her join a group of pendragons and move inside the boat with them, laughing and talking as if nothing had happened. A cold gust of wind whipped over the deck, drowning out the gulls' shrieks. Ronnica squinted upwards to see the birds more clearly. They are nice, she thought to herself and smiled, shielding her eyes. Especially that large dark blue one. I didn't know gulls could be navy blue...

The blue creature that caught her attention suddenly folded its wings and plumetted downwards. It grew bigger and bigger as it neared the boat and suddenly took on a more specific shape. Ronnica gasped - it was a winged pendragon, its leathery wings wrapped around his body. She couldn't move, hypnotised by it's fall. As the distance between the pendragon and the deck narrowed, she heard a sharp intake of breath from the others. Then, in the last second, the pendragon unfurled its wings and landed smoothly on the deck, looking around.

"Oh..." whispered Ronnica, standing up, "Now this is bound to be interesting."

 

|:| O O C |:|

.:screech:. Wait for me! I can't fly/swim that fast! :)

|:| I C |:|

"A craken! A devil!"

The scream broke the tension that had spread upon the passengers. A split-second later, the woman who had yelled this ridiculous accusation tumbled to the ground, her face pale. Two stewards rushed to help her to her feet, while the rest of the crowd broke into an uproar. Everyone was screaming, yelling or ordering everyone else about, but one couldn't distinguish separate sentences from the jumbled mass of words and screams. Meanwhile, the winged pendragon arose again, flapping away and nearing another boat that had sped out of the harbour. Ronnica watched him swim away, fast, and climb onto the other boat, dissapering from her sight behind the railing.

She cast a disgusted look at the milling and panicking crowd, but then an idea forced itself into her mind. She glanced down at the side of the boat to see if it held some lifeboats. What she saw delighted her - apart from numerous lifeboats there were also two water scooters. The pale pendragon looked back once more, but decided that they probably won't miss her. Not anytime soon, that is. Then, with casual elegancy, she climbed over the rails and jumped down to the scooter. She landed on its seat and swayed slightly, trying to regain her balance. Having accomplished this, Ronnica sat astride the scooter and tugged at the starter, the engine roaring to life.

It sped out into the water, leaving a white line of foam behind. Ronnica let out a small cheer; she felt the wind in her hair and the magnificent salty scent of the sea in her nostrils. She had never ridden a water scooter before and she was surprised at the easiness of it. She turned the handlebars towards the second ship and the machine lurched towards it, spraying its rider with drops of water.

Ronnica slowed down as she neared her "finish line". As soon as she could touch the boat's side, she turned the engine off and looked around for some rope to tie the scooter to. Finding none, she jerked off her bandana and knotted the handles to a bar that ran down the boat's side. Then the girl slowly rose, careful not to upset the "vehicle" beneath her. She grasped the railing with her fingers and swung one leg over it, pulling herself up. Jumping down on the deck, she quickly scanned the situation. Four burly pendragons were facing the stranger that had landed on The Mariquine, and they didn't look exactly friendly. Ronnica shrugged and moved her foot, immediately kicking into something. She stared at the floor in surprise, realising for the first time that she was walking on gems, jewels and gold coins - a pirates' loot!

"Rubbish," she muttered beneath her breath and skipped over to a heavy wooden bucket that sat against the door. She picked up the rope it was tied to and started twirling the bucket above her head. She wasn't intending to take any chances if those pirates decided she was an unwanted witness. Or maybe if that bizarre leather-winged pendragon decided the same thing. As it has, Ronnica stood at the spot, not moving, the bucket flying in circles like a lasso above her head. It was getting faster - and more dangerous - by the second.

 

|:| O O C |:|

Oooh, thanks! .:blush:. I wouldn't like to be in these pirates' skins :) And I apologise if I sound too gory in this post. It's just that I like to roleplay everything out, not just say "she killed him with a sword". You imagine stuff better and anyway, that's what RPing is about anyway.

|:| I C |:|

Ronnica stood still, only her hand moving rhythmically as she swirled her weapon. The pirates noticed her at last and one of them started laughing. The female's pale cheeks turned red in anger. If she wasn't sure until then whose side she was on, now it was clear - she hated when someone laughed at her. Taking a step forward, Ronnica uttered a small growl and narrowed her eyes into brown slits the color of mud. She took careful aim, swirled the bucket once more and then sent it flying into the four bulky bodies. No, wait, three. One pirate was lying on the ground, clutching his stomach and obviously knocked out. Anyway, there was a nasty sound as wood clashed against flesh and metal and then a howl of pain and a soft thud. Ronnica peered through the mess to see what exactly had happened.

She could've congratulated herself. The bucket was heavy and bound to injure severely anyone who might get in its way. It looked like it had landed on one of the pirates' head and knocked him down... Luckily he didn't look dead. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, but his eyes were rolled back, showing their whites and there was something eerie about his stillness. Ronnica fingered the pouches around her neck, almost rushing over to her victim's side and helping him. But one look at the battle scene changed her mind, and she waved her paw over the matter, promising herself to get back to the knocked out pendragons as soon as she could.

That was two down and two to go. Ronnica searched around frantically for a weapon of some kind, but in her hour of need she couldn't find anything. She bent down over a chest and rummaged through the things inside, looking for a sword or a knife or something. A big mistake. No true warrior would ever leave their back unshielded, let alone stick their head into a big box when there are two assasins three feet away from them, trying desperately to cut their throat. But Ronnie was no warrior. She had never battled except for the occasional fist-fight at the inn, so it was no wonder that she was now leaving her back exposed.

Her long and narrow digits finally found something. It felt like a broken spear - but what would a spear do on a pirate ship? Ronnica pulled it out of the chest, intent on looking at it in the light. To her immense surprise, a shadow fell over her as soon as she straightened and one of the two last pirates charged at her, sword raised high. Ronnica ducked, swinging her new weapon. The dull gray sky reflected on the metal blade and she saw that it was in fact an axe, not a spear.

"Oh great!" she muttered and swung the axe again, the clumsiness of her movements surprising her. The girl was used to small axes for chopping up wood - an essential tool when out ranging - but what she was holding now was a full-sized battle axe, with a long handle and a sharp, short and wide blade. The pirate was upon her again, grinning, exposing gums ridden with maggots and bare save for an occasional black tooth. He swung his sword at her again, and this time Ronnica wasn't quick enough to stop him completely.

The sharp end of the axe was too far away to be of immediate use, so, probably guided by instinct, Ronnica thrusted the long handle against the blade of the pirate's sword. She braced herself for the impact, but nothing could've prepared her for its force. The pirate had evidently put all his strength into his blow, but he had not counted on the wooden handle. It was quite thick and hard, made from strengthened Kjatt wood, but still it couldn't withstand the sharp, thin steel. It cracked in half, slipping out of Ronnica's hands, the lower end tumbling to the ground whilst the blade cut through the air in some sort of gravitational orbit, embedding itself with a sickening sloshing noise in the pirate's back. He fell forwards, falling onto his sword and pushing its blade below. Ronnica felt a twinge of pain in her right shoulder. Turning her head, she realised that the sword had met her skin and penetrated it, causing a small stream of blood trickle onto her scales, dying them red.

Ronnica crawled from under the broken axe and gave the pirate a look of deep disgust. Then her expression slowly changed into horror as she realised that he was dead, the axe's blade cutting through his backbone and into the heart. Ronnica forgot about her own injury for a moment, and she leaned against a nearby pole to keep her knees from shaking. She had never intended to kill, only to wound and give them a lesson for laughing at her like... like she was something funny.

"But a life... it's just a high price to pay for the satisfaction of someone's ego," whispered Ronnica, sinking to her knees, "But it's too late for that now. Oh man, I'm sorry... But it was either me or him."

In her mind, she said a small prayer to Fiddekh, the god of war and fighting. Then she stood up and looked away, remembering there was still one "enemy" left.

 

|:| O O C |:|

Ronnica did not say that. I'll play along this time, but from now on please keep in mind that Ronnie's mine and that it's me who writes about her. I also don't interfere with Subaria's actions ^__^

|:| I C |:|

Ronnica blinked and looked around in amazement, for the deck was deserted save for three motionless bodies. Now where did they go? she thought to herself, pulling the pirate's sword out of his grasp. She wiped its blade clean on a spare sail lying tangled in one corner, then looked around once more. She noticed the door of the hull thrown open, a few steps leading somewhere into the bowels of the ship.

"So that's where you've ended, ya' scurryin' rats!" she drawled, mocking the infamous pirate accent. A few light step took her to the dark opening and she descended the stairs, coming up behind the leather-winged pendragon. She was about to tap his shoulder and inquire about the situation, when he suddenly spun around and attacked her.

"Are you ravin' crazy?" she yelled, shielding herself with her sword. The barricade worked and she was able to jump out of reach, glaring at the other. A realising look spread across his face and it didn't take much wit to figure out he'd mistaken her for an enemy. She felt his look slide from her face, downwards. Immediately an angry scowl messed up her features, but then she realised he had been drawn to her shoulder, where her battle wound was slowly but surely closing, even though blood was still dripping from its center like mad.

"It's all right, don't worry about it," she sifted through gritted teeth. The gilled pendragon nodded and moved forwards, evidently searching. Ronnica took of in the opposite direction, moving as slowly and quietly as she could, though the creaking floorboards gave off her position frequently. She pressed against the wall, blundering into a small notch. The far wall of it was strangely soft and... it moved! Ronnica let out a shriek of surprise, the sword tumbling from her clutch as the fourth pirate raced out of the notch, appearing suddenly in the small hull. The gilled male had spread his wings, and, maybe unwillingly, blocked the exit. The pirate brought out his knife and leaped forward...

Ronnica jerked her eyes away. She didn't trust herself enough to watch the frightful procedure of metal sinking into someone's body. After a split second she looked back and saw the stabbed pendragon lying on the ground, unconscious. The pirate was not in the hull. The pale femme raced up the stairs and looked around the deck, but the only thing that had changed was the treasure scattered across the floor. The majority of it had dissapeared, and Ronnica could only guess how.

The situation cleared itself in the next moment as the loud roar of the water scooter pierced the air. Ronnica rushed to the railings and looked out to the water. The pirate had stuffed his loot into a sack and jumped down onto the scooter, prodding it into life and racing away, aiming for the land. He was getting further by each second, and Ronnica waved cheerfully at him, a silent goodbye. Then she turned back to the deck, untying the pouches around her neck. Time for work...

The young Healer Apprentice attended each of the wounded, starting with the two unconscious pirates. They looked all right, so she just pulled them into a lying position and tied their hands together behind their back. No immediate danger here. Upon descending down into the hull, she bent over the leather-winger pendragon and surveyed the wound. It looked ugly, but on closer inspection Ronnica could say it had not affected the bone, only muscle. She pulled a few dried leaves out of one of the pouches and pressed them onto the wound, putting force into her paw. The leaves trembled and then began to smoke. As soft blue steam escaped from under her hand, the leaves shrivelled down, reduced to brown skeletons. Ronnica removed her hand and blew the ashes away. Underneath was a pale spot of new skin. Apart from its color it was undistinguishable from the rest of the pendragon's back, and the Healer smiled. She moved the limp body into the recovery position and sat beside it head, waiting for the pendragon to regain consciousness.

 

<font color=navy>
|:| O O C |:|

OK ;)

|:| I C |:|

"Strange noises?" repeated Ronnica, perplexed. She had been looking at the sword she had jerked from the pirate's hand, and positively falling in love with it. It had a mid-long curved blade, sharpened into two points on the end and made from some kind of metal. Ronnica couldn't tell which, but she didn't have to know. It was enough for her that the blade was sharp and shining, and that it didn't look like it liked to bend. The handle was made from metal leafed with ivory and etched with numerous designs, mostly decorative symbols. It fit into her paw snugly and Ronnie decided, then and there, to keep it.

"Strange noises?" she asked again and cocked her head to one side, listening. All she could hear was the shrieks of the gulls and the slapping of seawater against the stern. A dull roar reached her ears and then faded away.

"Oh, you mean that," said the pale female reproachefully and waved her paw in an uniterested manner, "That's the fourth pirate, carrying half of his treasure away on the water scooter. Nothing to worry about."

She peeked out of the hull door just to make sure, but there wasn't a living soul around. The Mariquine was still calming after its moment of panic, but it seemed stable from here. Ronnica sat back down and raised one eyebrow, balancing the sword on the belly of her index finger. Crimson spots crept into her cheeks and she turned towards the gilled pendragon, determination turning her large brown orbs into a narrowed demon's lights.

"Now, first of all, you can't blame me for wanting an explanation," she told him, "I've been standing around on The Mariquine when suddenly there comes a winged pendragon, drops into the middle of the deck and looks at me. The next moment, he's off swimming to another boat and I decide to follow him. Upon climbing over the deck, I find the winged one facing four pirates, so I stand on his side and kill or injure the 'enemies'.
"It was rash, I shouldn't have butted into the fight when I didn't have any details. What if you are a crook attacking innocent wildies or play-pirates? If you don't mind, I would like to know, Mr ...?"

Her voice rose at the end of the sentence, underlining the casual request for his name. Ronnica started to inspect her shoulder wound, and classified it as a "scratch", not even worth of healing treatment. She looked lovingly at her new weapon and stroked its blade carefuly, not wanting to cut her digits. It was a masterpiece, and it was her's.
</font>

 

<font color=navy>
|:| O O C |:|

Can't see why not .:nod nod:.
Argh! .:twinges:.

Not again, Ronnie didn't come out of the hull. Don't change it, but please, please remember it!

|:| I C |:|

"I'm Ronnica Vox, but..."

However complete a story, it still did not satisfy Ronnica. She jumped to her feet, holding the sword in one hand and strode onboard, a whining expression on her face. She did note that Subaria sounded quite unconcerned about being stabbed in the back, and she pursed her lips, deciding to let him know that she was unconcerned as well. She stood next to him and crossed her arms over her chest, resuming her interrogation.

"But why were you following the pirates?" she asked, pulling at one of her black locks. Then she noticed the pulsing items that had suddenly appeared on the male's wrists. Ronnica took a small step back, just in case, and watched disbelievingly as the two throbbing daggers dissapeared and appeared with the movements of Subaria's hands.

"That's... nice," she offered her opinion. She wasn't lying, the two knives had a glint to them, but Ronnica distrusted anything that she didn't know exactly how it worked. It complicated her life a lot, since half of Ramath-lehi's machina and weaponry uses magicka and Fronima. No one knows how the Fronima works, so Ronnie naturally reached a blind end in that direction.

"It'll come in handy, I guess. Do they appear and reappear at your will or at their own will?" she asked, her gaze glued to the daggers.

 

<font color=navy>
"But I'm not..." started the pale femme, stopping in mid-sentence. She was about to decline any bonds between her and this situation, but realised that it was, infact, impossible. She had been here, been the witness, been the killer. There was no way she could back out now. An innocent game was suddenly stained red. Ronnica sighed in frustration and let go of the sword, dropping it with a clang onto the treasure pile.

"All right," she nodded, "We're on one boat, even though I'm not very happy about it. After all, you and your headquarters sound exactly like the pirates. Only the pirates steal the stuff from innocent people and you steal it from then. Unless, of course, you plan on returning it."

Her voice had a nasty edge to it, hinting that she somehow doubted her last statement. Yet then again, the sentence had been left opened, providing space for potential disagreement. Ronnica narrowed one eye and then thrust her hand into a pile of boots, sails, leather and clothes that lay against one corner. Her eagle eyes had spotted a next-to-new sword sheath jumbled near the bottom, and she pulled it out, smiling victoriously. Bending down to pick up her discarded sword, she slid it inside the sheath and buckled the whole thing around her waist.

"Mysterious dissapearing won't be necessary," she said coldly, but then melted a little and smiled at Subaria, "I'll keep the sword until we find the fourth pirate, and then I'll give it back. Anyway, what's the course of action for now? Do we follow the ring-leader? Or do we first pack this up and deliver it to... to your bosses?"

Her gaze wandered out towards the boat she had set out from. It appeared to have regained its dignity and was slowly but surely puffing away. Ronnica smiled and almost waved, but stopped herself short of it. It was not necessary. She was evidently not missed, which suited her just fine. Hepta Vox had evidently not counted on her daughter's dissapearance, but she knew better than to look for her. If Ronnie decided to avoid her, she would never manage to even catch a glimpse of her, so any home returns or making up was best left to the pale pendragon.
</font>

 

<font color=navy>
"Yeah, right," Ronnica snorted. Somehow I doubt that, she continued in her mind but didn't let the words slip out. She had already stated her opinion, Subaria had opposed, so the matter was closed. To her at least. But she really didn't think it probable that the Graders would need any backstage help. What did she know of politics, though? Not much, the pale femme reminded herself with slight regret. Anyway, she concluded that it wouldn't make any difference whether this leather-winged pendragon was really in such syndicate or not. So her mouth rested shut for once, which was Ronnica's only luck. She didn't realise it yet, but the recent situation had given her self-confidance a boost. The old and stupid pride she fought so hard to keep at bay was creeping back into her sub-conscious mind every second. It was just a matter of time before Ronnica checked it and gave herself a good talking, but meanwhile it was better not to speak.

The girl was careful not to tread over the law, even though she sometimes violated this promise. Like this death, for example. But the man killed was a pirate, which meant he was on the official outlaw list and desired "dead or alive". Subaria was right at this point - she was not indeed in trouble with any authorities. But staying on the good side also meant turning down offers. What's enough is enough though, and the weapon that hung around her belt had been offered to her twice. Ronnica smiled maliciously, white teeth flashing from the cavern of her mouth. She patted the sword and nodded with acknowledgment.

"All right, I'll keep it," she said without bothering to feign indifference. Her companion had noticed her enthusiasm right away, so there was no point in pretending. Instead, she imitated his search, turning over piles of rubble and loot alike, her head thrust forward like that of a hunting hound. Above her head, the afternoon's ivory clouds had been torn apart by the wind, leaving full view of the western horizon. The sun was sinking into the dark waves, almost like a bathing nymph sinks with delight into the coolness of a mountain stream.

Ronnie straightened as an idea came into her mind.

"Why don't you telepath them?" she asked, her hand deep in a pile of necklaces, "I would, but my telepathy isn't that strong. Not yet anyway. The furthest I can manage is about two hundred metres, but I think that you're probably more powerful."

She wasn't paying compliments, nor was she kissing up to him. It was only experience that formed her words, for she had always been hopeless when it came to telepathy. It was, after all, a form of magic...

 

<font color=navy>
"Swim? Didn't you say someone has to stay on the boat?" Ronnica interrupted his thoughts, pulling her hand out of the jewel pile. No radio had been hidden inside of course, but she had given it a try. The searching paw was pulled back, muscles flexing - barely noticable - under their smooth white coat. Ronnica sat down in a relaxed position, leaning against the side of a cabin, her hand bent at the elbow. She toyed with a pile of gems in front of her, more out of boredom than from anything else. Her digits moved around like crawling insects, rearranging the shiny beads in patterns and pictures.

Quite soon her small private game lost its sparkle. Ronnica pulled her knees towards her and hugged them, her whole body a tight and inpenetrable ball. She laid her head on the platform of her knees and stared forwards.

"Then again, you could go and swim along, since you are so eager to jump into that friggin' cold water," she said, her voice hiding smugness under all of its pretended indifference, "I'll stay here. Though how you're getting back is your problem. And anyway, finding the boat would be hard as well, since I have no idea how to steer it."

Ronnica's lids drooped, and a hazy mist settled down on her mind. Absent-mindedly, she brought her hand to her lips, her index and middle finger pressed together as if they were holding something. The female's white face-scales came into contact with her claws and she jerked out of her dreamy state with a look of surprise on her face. She regarded her clenched fingers with a stern look, then waved her hand and got up from her sitting position, groaning as she pulled herself up.

"Never thought I'd be so used to cigarettes my arm would move subconsciously," she said cheerfully as she passed Subaria. It was rather strange, to admit to herself that her guide in boredom was a cigarette. Ronnica was, after all, a Healer and a Biologist. But like so many teenagers, and pendragons in general, she didn't mind smoke and didn't heed warnings. She smoked time to time, even though it was almost nothing compared to some of her peers. The pale femme was never the type to do with two packets a day, she only enjoyed a rolled up tabacco cylinder on rare occasions. All in all, Ronnie would best be decribed as "the one who smokes one cigarette per year and is happy about it". It wasn't good for her, it made her cough sometimes, but it also made her feel relaxed, be it only for one moment. Sometimes she thought she would burst with pent-up stress, but usually she could feel it ebbing away after some time. Her once-a-year vice was for the rare stress bombs that wouldn't go away.

She stopped in front of the cabin door, its hinges jutting majestically out of the wood like two dark knives.

"Have you looked in here?" she asked and pointed to the door.
</font>

 

<font color=navy>
The wristblades' blue light sprawled around the small room. Navigation instruments were strewn all around, drooping down from the table, jumbled up on the floorboards. A few maps were pinned to the wall, their yellowy corners turning inwards, giving off a hint of old age. Ronnica prowled around the room like a nervous cat as Subaria switched on the radio, contacting a coast guard. Their few minutes of coversation passed and suddenly Ronnie found herself staring at a map that Subaria had thrust into her hands. She wiped her hand along the smooth surface of the table, papers and objects cluttering to the floor. On the space thus created, the female spread the map, holding it so it wouldn't draw back into a cylinder.

"It must be enchanted," she remarked, blinking in a vain attempt to make the black cross resembling the ship more visible. It moved a milimetre each second as the boat swayed and danced on the blue waves, "Otherwise they wouldn't be able to chart a boat. A ship doesn't stay in one place, so it's impossible to plot down. Oh my, all this stuff is useful, even if even the silliest things are magicked. Honestly, who needs to know where exactly their mother boat was?"

Ronnica snickered softly and raised one hand to scratch her chin. The map crumpled up immediately and pushed against her fingers, an almost complete roll of paper. Ronnica let it finish rolling up and handed the created cylinder back to Subaria.

"I don't like the look of those crosses," she remarked dryly, "It's just too obvious. I can't believe the pirates would be so stupid as to plot down carefully four hiding places. One would be believable. But four? Anyway, one should expect today's pirates to learn from the mistakes of their ancestors. Why lugg a map with treasure hints around when you've got a boat full of other loot? And why not code it in some way? A riddle, perhaps, or secret ink, or maybe a ciphre of some sort. This is just too obvious!"

She gesticulated ferociously, though her movements were just barely visible in the dull light. Even though the ice blades had served their purpose, dusk had arrived now and cast a blanket of darkness over the pirates' boat.
</font>