Welcome to the Deep

1793, Gulf of Alaska - In a world not quite like our own, the Golden Age of Piracy lives on, and it has reached the shores of the North Pacific Ocean. The ordeals of the young American states on the other side of the continent are little more than a passing thought to the sailors of the northwestern seas, who must brave the challenges of the icy waters— and the dangers beneath. Some are explorers, eager to travel past the bounds of the map and discover the fabled Northwest Passage. Others are merchants, trading fur and lumber with local tribes and the inhabitants of the fledging hamlets of Anchorage, Victoria, Vancouver and Seattle. And others still are pirates, sailing proudly under the flag of the Siren's Fleet and using magic to win their treasure.

One of these pirate ships, the Evergreen, has just been given a new quest by the Commander of the Fleet. Their mission: steal the Kraken's Bane, a magical artifact rumored to control the mysterious and deadly Kraken, before it can be traded into the hands of the British Navy. What is expected to be a straightforward caper for a talented crew quickly becomes anything but, as the Evergreen finds itself the target of all imperialist powers seeking dominion over these waters. With enemies and danger on all sides, it is up to this brave crew to win their survival and complete their mission. But they must sail carefully— after all, there's a Kraken on the loose.

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In collaboration with: @SilverNight

Nikola stepped through the heavy wooden doors of the tavern, boots thudding against the worn floorboards as the scent of stale, sweat, and pipe smoke invaded his space. The place was dimly lit, the glow of lanterns flickering against rough-hewn walls. His grey eyes scanned each table-- some filled with traders, others occupied by sailors and the occasional cutthroat. It wasn't the worst place he'd been in-- hell, it was practically civilized compared to some--but that didn't mean it was safe.

A group of merchants played dice near the bar, their coats a little too fine for a place like this. A pair of hardened-looking men sat in the back corner, speaking low in a language he didn't recognize. French, maybe? The barkeep, a thick-set man with a scar down his chin, didn't flinch when a drunken sailor slammed a mug down too hard. It was clear he was also used to worse.

Nikola exhaled slowly, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. No immediate threats. Not yet.

He glanced at Kyro, who had walked in shortly after him, only to notice her rolling her shoulders back like she had already claimed the place as hers. She wasn't reckless-- Nikola would've had a problem with that-- but she carried herself like someone who thought she could handle whatever came her way. Her bandana kept her dark hair from falling into her eyes, but even in the lowlight, he caught the flash of ink on her forearms.

"Hе двигайся (don't move)," Nikola grumbled under his breath to Kyro, well aware that she was just itching to claim a table already.

Kyro let out a disappointed sigh, sticking out her lip in a faint pout. "Come on, we've got to find a spot before they all run out! Or else we're going to have to arm-wrestle for a table, and I just hit a bicep workout on the Evergreen."

Nikola rolled his eyes and led the way. He weaved in between tables, eyes picking up the smallest details-- who carried weapons, who was already deep in their drink, who was watching the door too closely. Всегда знайте свои выходы. Всегда знайте свои угрозы. Always know your exits. Always know your threats.

Kyro walked beside him, moving as if she belonged here just as much as the sailors. He didn't need to look at her to know that she was already studying the room in her own way-- not just mapping the people, but the layout, the placement of the windows, the way the lanterns burned against the wood. Astronomer's eyes worked differently, but they still worked just as good.

After finding a table placed directly in the corner of the room, Nikola sat down with a loud screeeeech of the chair's legs on the wooden floor, causing the whole tavern to go silent for a few seconds. Everyone who stared didn't hesitate to look away once he reached into his coat and pulled out a brown, sparkling flintlock pistol. He slammed it loudly on the table intentionally, grinning as Kyro huffed a laugh, pulling out a chair beside him.

Normally, Nikola would rather not draw attention to himself, but in this case, he needed to prove dominance. This was a new place, and he wanted everyone to know that their table was untouchable. Будьте большой рыбой, а не маленькой рыбкой. Be a big fish, not a little fish.

"Subtle," Kyro praised, casually leaning back in her chair and resting an elbow on the table with a grin. "It's like no one saw us enter."

Nikola smirked wider, tapping a finger against the barrel of his pistol. "If they didn't see us enter, they see us now," he murmured, voice low but with a slight edge of amusement. He leaned back in his chair, watching the tavern's patrons slowly return to their drinks and dice. The moment had passed, but the message was clear-- the newcomers weren't to be trifled with.

A serving girl hesitated near their table, clearly debating if approaching them was worth the trouble. Nikola gave her a small, impatient nod, and she stepped forward, wiping her hands on her apron, "Drinks?"

"I'll have two shots of Yukon Jack," Kyro said smoothly, "and this guy--" She looked over to Nikola, squinting. "See, I'm of the opinion that he should order a White Russian, because look at him, but he's a madman, so he'll probably want something crazy like four shots of vodka."

Nikola scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "A white Russian. Milk and vodka can be great, especially for dessert," he thought about it before looking at her, "You insult me, ptichka. Grown men don't drink milk and vodka in a bar."

He looked back to the server, "Four shots of vodka," he confirmed dryly, giving Kyro a pointed look, "No sugar, no nonsense."

Kyro shook her head disappointedly at the server. "You heard him. But one of these days, I'll make it happen," she promised.

"You think I look like a white russian," Nikola mused, drumming his fingers against the wood, as the server departed. "What does that make you, then? A black rum?" his lips quirked into an even wider smirk, "Sweet on the surface, burns like hell if you drink too much?"

"I'd say yes, but you're not fed up with me yet somehow, so maybe not," Kyro said innocently.

Nikola's smirk faded, but he sighed as if he'd lost, "Whatever you say, ошибка. (bug)."

Kyro chuckled, kicking her leg up on the next chair over-- but keeping the sole of her boot off it out of consideration for their crew, Nikola noted. "How much do you think they're going to get out of the loot? Dwyn's good at bartering, but the guy they were talking to at the docks when we went ahead looked pretty stiff."

Nikola shrugged, rolling one of his unlit cigarettes between his fingers, "Depends on how desperate the bastard is," he muttered, "If he needs what we have, Dwyn will bleed him dry. If not..." he exhaled, "We'll get enough, but not as much as we should. Either way, we'll have our share soon enough."

"Hopefully it's enough to cover the cost of your four drinks," Kyro teased, but he could hear that she was thinking about it. The crew needed a win ahead of the worst of winter.

Nikola waved his playfully, "Four shots, ошибка," he said, "Barely enough to keep me warm. We'll have about two more on the tab before we leave. Once I get my part, I plan to take a short trip to the strait of Juan de Fuca. Y'know, where all the русалки (mermaids) are. Find me a wife."

Kyro snorted. "And then what, she's going to swim around and follow you everywhere? That sounds tiring. Your poor wife."

"Oh, she'd have to keep up," Nikola shook his head, "If I find someone worthy of my... companionship, she'd better be able to handle a little adventure. Plus I hear the русалки are quite a catch. Rough around the edges, but loyal."

"Well, who's gonna man the guns while you're gone?" Kyro asked. "Not me, that's for sure." She pouted. "Since you won't allow me near the gunpowder."

Nikola eyed her, knowing exactly where this was going. "You and that damn gunpowder," he teased, "You'd be trying to make the explosions, not just fire them."

"Guilty." Kyro grinned, stretching her arms overhead-- an action that caused the last three variables of an equation tattooed on her forearm to peek out from under her sleeve. "But you can't blame a scientist for that."

The server arrived with Nikola's four drinks and Kyro's Yukon Jack. Nikola immediately tapped the side of his shot glass before downing one of them in one smooth motion, "One day," he began, "You're going to try one of your little experiments, and I'm going to wake up in the middle of the ocean because you accidentally sent half the ship sky-high."

"No, niaiseux, I'd make sure to wake you up first, because it'd be cool and I'd hate for you to miss it." Kyro laughed.

"You better. Someone has to stop you from sinking us into the Pacific," Nikola downed another shot, "What time is everyone getting here? Seems like it's taking longer than usual. I wonder if something went wrong."

"Hey, no," Kyro protested, knocking on the wood of the table. "You don't say things like that. It encourages bad luck."

Nikola raised an eyebrow, "You know I don't believe in luck. Things either happen or they don't. If they aren't here in the next thirty minutes, I say we go looking."

Kyro held up one of her shot glasses, peering at it for a moment before throwing the drink back. When she was done, she set it down slowly. Kyro normally wasn't one to actually set things down-- she preferred to just let go and let her gravity magic do the rest-- but Nikola knew she didn't do that in new and unfamiliar places. "If they got in a fight, who do you think started it?"

"I want to say Dwyn, since neither of us are there. If we were, you know the answer to that question." Nikola contemplated it, "definitely not Yong-Nam."

Kyro made a face. "Maybe we should've been the ones to cut the deals."

"Eh," he lifted his third shot, "Leave it to them. I'd rather be here, anyways. They're making deals while we're getting drunk. Sounds fine to me."

Kyro chuckled, raising her second glass with a grin. "Cheers to that."