[Maaike]

There was a naked woman in the middle of the town square.

Maaike was Therian. She'd been raised mostly feral, so it wasn't like she hadn't seen of naked women (and men) before, though most of the nakedness in her clan was reserved for the kids. She just wasn't used to seeing nakedness in the middle of town -- and neither, it seemed, were most of the residents, because along with a few cat-calls there were gasps of outrage, indignation, eye-covering of small children, and cheers.

“Well,” Maaike told a thoroughly unaffected Magda as the falcon preened atop Maaike's shoulder. “They wanted her for public indecency so there's really no surprise...” It was going to make catching the woman a bit awkward, though, and very, very public.

Nevertheless, Maaike's cluck sent Magda into the sky (with a startled look from a nearby Viridis who looked like he was soaking up way too much of the crowd's emotions) and she herself stepped forward to collar her collar. She was barely a foot away from the woman who was parading her nakedness around the square like a fire-dancer who wasn't even aware she'd burned off her clothes when a deep voice called out, “Oi!” and all Hel broke loose.

Caplan was off. She'd spotted the uniform and no way no how was she landing in front of the Magistrate. Gay, melodic laughter trailed after her as she swiped a by-stander's wallet and weaved her way through the crowd, using their awkwardness and don't-know-what-to-do-with-my-hands-or-eyes-ness to thoroughly trump the Guards after her. Maaike looked on with a widening grin: She was starting to like this woman.

But, rules were rules, and Nymph or no (had to be, with that figure) she was in a town full of them. And Maaike's job was to track down and catch those who didn't follow them.

This chase was going to be interesting, though, to say the least.

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Quest Info: Sera Caplan
WANTED for petty theft, wanton destruction of public property, and public indecency.

• Employer: Senior Guardsman Ranulph Arline
  
• Starting Location: Espur
  
• Objectives:
  
  • Track down Caplan.
    
  • Capture her.
    
  • Take her to the local Guard Tower.

[Zozeko]

Zozeko had never known the like.

While it was not unusual for them to visit Espur frequently on their travels, it was unusual for Zeko to be sent ashore twice in such a short span of time -- and he was most certain he would be hearing about it from the other crew members upon his return.

Nevertheless, Keegan had reported several necessary repairs, many of which required materials that had long since run out. They could finally afford to fill their own supply stores after their last trip across the channel, and thus here was Zeko with yet another shopping list in hand.

Unlike last time, he actually knew in which direction to travel (as he should, given the map Keegan had drawn for him). And, unlike last time, Malik was still aboard the Artega actually doing his job as a cabin boy. Having already agreed to meet Keegan and Deion, both of whom had headed in opposite directions for the rest of the maintenance supplies, back at the ship in an hour's time, Zozeko could not foresee any troubles.

How wrong he was.

There was a naked woman prancing toward him, tossing an emptied wallet over her shoulder with one hand while clutching several bills to her exposed bosom. Zozeko was dimly aware of the two guards chasing behind her, but that was really only because one was forced to regain his footing after tripping over the wallet the naked woman had discarded.

A string of Zanaryan words erupted from Zozeko's mouth, but he couldn't be sure they formed a coherent sentence. Outrage drew a sneer upon his face even as his disgust warred with natural male instincts - because she was running toward him.

In his vanity, that had been his assumption. His ego was sorely bruised, then, when the brunette sailed by him as if not even aware of his presence, only to wink with wicked glee at the man standing next to him.

Had she not been so dismissive of him, and had he not automatically assumed that dismissal was out of prejudice for his being Zanaryan, Zozeko might never have gotten involved. As it was, he decreed that a woman such as this should not be on the streets where children - or adults! - could be influenced, and with a sweep of his staff and a jangle of gold charms, he sent a wave of wind after her.

[Maaike]

Maaike smelled him before she saw him, easily recognising the Zanaryan's stink among the less offensive scents of the people in the crowd. She wouldn't have thought anything of it, except that as Sera Caplan made her escape he suddenly burst into motion and sent the runaway Nymph flying.

It was the arc of air that gave Maaike pause. For one, what under Hel was this guy doing stealing her bounty? And for two, the last time she ran into a Djinn, things hadn't gone exactly to plan.

Taking small comfort in the knowledge that Ben had been punished for his crimes despite his best efforts to escape, Maaike was cautious as she approached from the Zanaryan's four o'clock, careful not to sneak up on him. She didn't enjoy being air-thrown against a wall, thank you very much.

But it wasn't in her any more to back down, so her “Get your hands off my bounty, claws for brains!” probably wasn't the best idea. And then Caplan was back on her feet and --

No. Not on her feet. Not at ground level.

A chunk of cobblestone and the earth beneath them had broken away from the road and thrust the apparent Dryad up into the air about five feet so she towered over them, to a chorus of shrieks and gasps.

Maaike's shoulders slumped with sudden awareness. A second later, the crowd had thinned out (which, admittedly, made Maaike's job easier) and they were being pelted by tiny rocks. She had no choice but to dive to safety behind an abandoned cart while she thought up a strategy that didn't involve sacrificing Magda to the dirt-wielding mad woman.

“Damn that Zanaryan!”

[Zozeko]

Claws for brains? Claws... claws for brains?!

Zozeko was surrounded by females whose mere presence insulted him, and this one had the audacity to speak to him so? Thank his Lord and Air that Malik was not here to see him demeaned so! The rebellious pup would never let him live it down.

Sadly, Zozeko had little chance of teaching the chit a lesson in manners. No sooner had he whipped around to give her a piece of his mind did something small and hard petoom off the lamp post not two inches from his head, quickly followed by the rapid toom toom toom of more such pellets and pebbles raining down upon he and whatever remained of the crowd. Before he could blink, most everyone had taken shelter, and those who weren't ducking behind boxes and crates and carts and tarochs were either fleeing for their lives or, like him, standing dazed in the street. He may as well have a target painted on his forehead and wings.

A torrent of angry Zanaryan words tumbled buttocks over head from his mouth as he made up for slow reflexes to find himself behind the same cart as the shrew who had insulted him. Fortunately, he missed her curse, else the Dryad attacking them would be the least of her concerns.

“Well, this is damned undignified.” Honestly, such was an understatement, and he normally would rather have been skinned alive than admit to any embarrassment. However, he did not trust this wench not to speak the obvious, and he would be damned if he would allow her the pleasure of insulting him yet again. She, and a young couple cowering against the forward wheel, were already benefitting from the shield of air he had thrown up around the cart.

“You are a bounty hunter, no? Should you not be out there hunting, rather than in here cowering with the rest of us?”

[Maaike]

Maaike had expected to be hit by a few more of those pebbles than she actually had, and it took her a second to realise why she hadn't been. It was funny: Even knowing of all the things other Elysians could do, it was way too easy to forget. She really ought to break that habit, because this wasn't the first time — and probably wasn't going to be the last — that she'd been taken by surprise.

At least this time the Zanaryan's shield was on her side.

“Should you not be out there hunting, rather than in here cowering with the rest of us?”

Maaike took a second to double-take and arch her eyebrows at the white-haired demon. Was he for real? “I don't see you out there giving her what-for.” But he had a point (damn him), and Maaike didn't waste any more time. Since she was secure behind his shield, she had time to peer up over the cart and get a good look at the fiasco taking place on the city street. “I swear, the Guards do more harm than good,” because the two of them still hadn't had the sense to duck and were trying to confront Caplan head-on. “Lemmings.”

That made her think of Aiden Roy, for some reason. She'd enjoyed leaving him those presents, and calling him names, but somehow she didn't think he'd be doing too badly with Caplan right now if he were here instead of those two morons currently getting their butts pelted with dirt.

Hmm. They might be lemmings, but they were managing to keep most of Caplan's attention on them (besides a few wild shots that burst like confetti over the heads of various bystanders who hadn't yet made it to safety. “Fine. You stay here. Try to keep her attention off me, if that's not too hard for you,” just in case the two lemmings out there weren't enough.

Maaike didn't stick around to be insulted back, instead taking her chance to slip and hobble her way around behind Caplan using various stacks of crates, carts, animals and people as cover. When she thought she was hidden enough to be safe, she scrambled her way up onto a roof as close as she could get to the Dryad without being spotted, and then tried to snag the Zanaryan's attention. If he was smart enough, he could draw the Nymph's wrath and give Maaike a shot at knocking the woman out without too much collateral damage...

[Zozeko]

“I don't see you out there giving her what-for.”

It was Zozeko's turn to arch his eyebrows, as if they had entered into some contest of wills and the person who could arch their eyebrows the highest would be announced the winner.

Competitive and vain, Zozeko could not allow the wench to best him. “I hardly see how such is my responsibility.” He was hired to defend the Artega, not to capture criminals. This fact was made all the more significant since he himself would be considered a criminal should anyone ever track down his ship and its crew.

“Lemmings.”

Zozeko had no idea what a lemming was, but it was clear from the wench's tone that it was a derogatory name. (Then again, most of what the woman said had a similar tone, so for all he knew, "lemmings" was simply the local term for the Guards.) In any case, he had to agree with her derision. He was not particularly successful as a strategist, himself, but even he knew better than to take on an opponent head-on. If the Artega were to plough into her enemies in such a fashion, the damage would be immeasurable — and, while most of it would perhaps be on the other ship, the Artega's prow would only take so much.

Still, he did not appreciate being commanded as if he were some sort of servant. As a woman, she should be asking his advice at the very least, if not begging for his aid! Besides, the "lemmings" were doing a fine job of distracting that shameless Dryad for him, and so he rather preferred to watch.

But, hmm. He was forced to admit the Therian had some skill. Were she male, he might have appreciated those skills all the more, but that sharp tongue of hers killed the minute amount of respect he might have developed. As a result, Zozeko almost ignored her gesture. Her wishes were fairly clear, given the situation, but he would have quite happily remained behind his shield and let her and the two Guards take care of it. As it happened, however, one of the men had been knocked unconscious by a pebble to the forehead, and the other was shouting for the Dryad's surrender from behind a lamp post. At this rate, Zozeko would be late for his meeting with Keegan and Deion, and he would rather follow the Therian's orders — for his own benefit, of course — than face their teasing.

“Alas, it seems I must save the day, after all.” And so, keeping his shield around himself (and thoughtlessly abandoning the couple who had also been cowering behind the cart with him), Zozeko stepped out from his shelter and threw a blast of air at the Dryad.

[Maaike]

For a second there, Maaike thought the vlareon was going to ignore her and leave her to deal with Caplan alone. She'd get him back for it, of course, sooner or later, even if meant tracking his stinking arse all the way back to his home realm — but that didn't help matters right now. Fortunately for the Zan, he finally did make a move.

Caplan's shriek was one of outrage more than pain as she deflected the Djinn's air blast. Well, deflected wasn't the right word. It was more like the earth just swallowed it, rearing up like a wave that crashed down over the blast of air and stopped it dead in its tracks. Maaike couldn't afford to stop and be impressed, because while she'd almost pay to see the Zanaryan get his arse kicked, she took her job too seriously to stand by and let it happen.

This was one bounty she couldn't take down alone, and she damned the lack of information. Nobody said anything about this woman being so damned powerful.

But at least the Djinn's attack, lackadaisical as it seemed, was doing the job of keeping Caplan distracted. Maaike set off: leaping backwards off the rooftop and arching into a dive, she used her momentum to put herself in a spin as she landed, sweeping her leg out and up to kick at the back of Caplan's head. Completing the turn, she repeated the kick, this time keeping her foot level with her hips to wallop the Nymph in the gut as she turned to counter, and again with her foot low to the ground to sweep Caplan's legs out from under her.

That was as far as she got. Winded and huffing, the Dryad raised her hands from where she'd fallen flat on her back, and with a yell Maaike was sent flying as the earth buckled under her feet and thrust her away. If she hadn't been expecting some kind of counter-attack, Maaike would have smashed face-first into a taroch's rear end. As it was, she barely had time to grab hold of a lamp post and spin herself out of the line of fire to roll behind a barrel.

It wasn't the safest of covers, but damn, she needed a breather.

[Zozeko]

Zeko had to admit the Therian's little spinny whirlwind stunt was a tiny bit impressive. Not to anyone but himself, of course, but it gave him an idea.

Unlike probably most Elysians, Zozeko had no qualms about injuring a woman, especially if he felt she deserved it. He'd never been forced to use violence against his wife or his daughters because they were well-bred and raised to respect their men. In truth, he wasn't sure he even could discipline them if ever it were necessary, but this woman had nothing to do with him and had already proven that she herself was perfectly willing to injure others and damn the consequences, so that was his conscience salved.

Mimicking the Therian's spinning stunt, Zozeko moved his arms rapidly in a spiral, calling the wind to rotate between them. As the whirling dervish took on more and more power, he almost faltered — seeing the Therian almost introduce her face to a landstrider's rear end was nigh on more humour than he could bear to contain! — but nevertheless he maintained control. As an Azat, how could he not?

Not just his arms were spiralling now: his torso began to rotate too, injecting the mini tornado with ever more power. All other onlookers had scattered — and a good thing, too: the Dryad was back on her feet and turning to counter, pavement on both sides of the street tearing up into the air ready to smash into him. Zeko loosed his tornado and dropped to his knees, drawing in more air and solidifying it to erect his shield once more. He was only meant to be distracting her, after all.

[Maaike]

Maaike could only be glad she'd ducked behind the barrel when she had. From her tremulous cover, she could gape at the tornado as it zig-zagged loopily across the street, sucking up pretty much anything that wasn't nailed down or larger than a child. Fortunately, most of the onlookers had already scarpered, otherwise Maaike was pretty sure she'd have to arrest the Zanaryan, too, for causing more damage than the Dryad!

“Flaming Hel.” This was getting completely out of control. The guards were totally useless now, one draped unconscious over the side of a cart and the other, equally unconscious, covered in rubble. If they'd been more help in the first place, she might have been concerned about their welfare, but the great lummoxes had only made things worse so — as long as they weren't dead, because even her conscience couldn't deal with that — whatever injuries they'd sustained served them damn well right.

Taking a deep breath, Maaike darted out from the shaky cover of the barrel, following the tornado's path without getting too close. Leaping over debris and other obstacles, zig-zagging from cover to cover, sliding underneath a cart that had been splintered in half (either by the Zanaryan's tornado or the Dryad's attacks, she couldn't tell). From there, with the tornado halfway down the street, she jumped at another lamp post, using it to spin around and launch herself feet first at the Nymph's back.

The post's wobble, no doubt caused by the cracks in the pavement, almost threw her off her game. Correcting at the last second, she managed to kick the ferocious woman squarely between the shoulder blades, and landed over her slumped figure. Bending swiftly to check the woman really was unconscious (she'd never forget One-Winged Ben), and still alive, Maaike finally panted her hands on her thighs and tried to catch her breath.

From the glimpse she got of the view behind her, maybe the Nymph wasn't the biggest problem she'd face today.

“Oi, Horns. You wanna haul that thing back into thin air where it came from, or was it your plan to wreck half the city?” She refrained from tacking on the "moron" she really wanted to add.

[Zozeko]

...

Loosing a tornado in the middle of a city street probably hadn't been the best idea, but Zozeko ibn Nihim would never once admit he had made a mistake — especially to a woman. And so, when he was roused from his foetal position inside his shield to find the Dryad unconscious and the Therian harpy scowling at him, he was reminded of just how destructive a whirling dervish could be on land. Ah, he so longed for the open ocean, where he could spin the air all day long and the only damage caused would be to his crewmates' normally cast-iron stomachs.

“Shut up, woman. Your shrill voice is enough to curl the skin off a vlareon.” Zanaryans did not take lightly to being called derogatory names, and he was quite certain that, rather than stating the obvious or being affectionate, her use of the name "Horns" was intended to offend. Well, two could play at that game.

Stepping out of his shield as he allowed it to collapse, he brushed himself off casually, as if his efforts to distract the Dryad had not resulted in far more damage than she had ever caused. Already, the whirlwind was at the other end of the street, and the cobbles down the middle had been ripped up. No doubt the city would attempt to charge him for the damage, but that was assuming they could find him. The Artega, and he with it, would be gone soon. He would simply have to tell Sebastian that returning to Espur any time soon would be a bad, bad idea.

Unless he actually wanted to lose his gunner, which, though most of the crew would no doubt be onboard with, would be a terrible plan in the long-term.

Setting off after the tornado, as non-chalant as if he were merely taking a stroll along the shore-front, Zozeko spread his fingers and flicked his wrists, using the gestures to reCall his element. It was a simple matter of siphoning the air out of the dervish, slowing the whirl until it dissipated altogether with a muted whoosh.

Turning to the Therian, haughty as ever, he enquired, “I take it you can manage the woman by yourself now? I simply must be elsewhere.”

[Maaike]

It was rare for Maaike to lose her temper, even after Ashton's many betrayals. In fact, quite the opposite; she tried to reign it in as much as possible, terrified of what she'd do if she were to lose it ever again.

But that didn't stop her from slapping the Zanaryan good and hard in the face. Her voice was shrill enough to skin a vlareon, was it? Well, granted, she'd started the insults, but that didn't mean she had to sit back and take it. Especially since he'd just made things so much worse! Who did he think was going to clean up his mess?

[Zozeko]

Zozeko and apoplexy seemed to go hand in hand these days, but who could blame him when a woman dared to slap him?! This... this was... This was unheard of! And really the reason he had not wished to come to this wretched realm in the first place (even though he now didn't really want to leave).

His mouth opened and closed on a series of false starts, until he gave up all attempt to tell her just how despicable she was and exactly what his kind did to females like her when they acted out. Instead, his hands started to move, preparing to call the air to him again — only to stop when he realised that the stomping noise he could hear was not just one man but several.

Had he been in Zanarya, sight of the guards would not stop him from teaching this harpy a lesson. Here in Elysia, however, assaulting a woman, no matter the reason, was illegal, and to do so in plain sight of the squadron of guardsmen that had descended upon the area from neighbouring jurisdictions to investigate the small war zone was a really bad idea.

So, as he allowed the air to dissipate before it could really begin to gather around him, he turned to walk away haughtily, but nevertheless had one last thing to say. “I pity the man who marries you!”

((Zozeko has left the thread.))

[Maaike]

The Zanaryan's words were sharper, and stung more, than any sword or slap ever could. One of the ways Ashton had kept her under his thumb for so long was by making her think the beatings were her own fault, and that it was her, more than anything he did, that had ruined their marriage. That she was a failure as a wife, and as a mother, and as a woman.

For long seconds, she stood frozen by those words. I pity the man who marries you! I pity the man who marries you! I pity the man who marries you! And then one of the guards began to stir with a groan, wrenching her back to reality — and the harsh fact that, if she didn't get Caplan to the nearest watchtower soon, she likely never would.

Fortunately, Nymphs were smaller and lighter than the average Therian, and Maaike had been building up her muscles since Ashton's death. Having to pull herself up over various obstacles while she was free-running meant her upper body strength and her calf muscles were better than average, but that didn't stop her looking out for a better option than just slinging the unconscious woman over her shoulder. She really had learned her lesson with Ben.

Unfortunately, Baby Face wasn't here to take the burden, and she wouldn't trust any of the bystanders. The guards, ever more awake, still looked like a stiff breeze would knock them over, too, and she was halfway to the nearest Watchtower before she found a wheelbarrow that would do the trick.

“I didn't expect we'd ever catch this one,” Arline told her as he hefted the still-unconscious Caplan from her temporary carriage. Maaike followed him into the Watchtower and waited impatiently for him to return from the cells. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long for payment, and she was out of there before he could realise that she herself was wanted in Alexandria — and before Caplan woke up to give them living Hel.