The Red Silks

[Philomel]

Closed to Leoric. Warning: has mature content.

Afternoon. The Harbour. Radasanth.

Like a bright candle lighting a catacomb, the sun perched in a cloudless sky and warmed the world of the city below it. The cobbled streets with their slate-roof buildings served as a thriving hub for the thousands of dwellers within the walls, and they went about their business quite ignoring the sun but subconciously grateful for it. Near the harbour strong smells of fish and salt could be scented, coupled with the sound of gulls. Sailors dressed in oilskins and tunics laughed at one another and heaved on knotted ropes to bring their boats to port, and one small artist sat on the end of the stone harbour wall and painted the sea.

He loved the way the sunlight bounced off the gently lapping waves, he found it enchanting the way fins of great fish could be seen on the horizon. He loved the way that peace seemed to be a thing taken for granted in this bustling place, and also he loved the way people all seemed to have a smile on their face. Especially those coming from a certain ship, tied off on the end of a might pier. Its sails were down and it was firmly docked, with a thick iron anchor chain disappearing into the ocean depths, yet it was still alive with movement.

Every so often the artist's eyes looked over at this ship, of which he had a perfect view from his vantage point. Its gangplank was more ornate than the other frigates around, as it was freshly polished and even had crimson ropes on either side for a barrier. On the wooden pier, where the gangplank joined the harbour and thus the rest of Radasanth, two tall and proud women could be seen, both heavily armoured and armed. One even had a helmet with dragon-imitating features on the crown, so much so that from this distance she looked like she had donkey ears.

The artist's attention switched to watching the latest man to walk away from the ship. He had a look of satisfaction on his face, and he passed another man going the opposite way. The two of them swapped a look of knowing, then continued on their way right by one another, one with a lighter purse than the other. Their point of intersection was at the bow, near the ships figurehead, which was obviously very new compared to the rest of the boat. Carved and then inserted in shining oak was the figure of a fox, with its noise the point of the forecastle and its tail draping down towards the hull. Both men, however, seemed oblivious to this piece of expert carpentry. They were only concerned with their own personal welfare.

Upon the ship itself, called The Fiesty Fox, hence the decorative figurehead, a faun and an elf stood and welcomed those whom the guards had let on board. The faun, who was obviously in charge by her stern brow and her arrogant nature spoke to the men and women who came onto the upper deck, then pointed them towards the lower deck. Down an elegant set of stairs the clients would find themselves in an open bar, with tables enough for thirty people and a couple of hired musicians playing the fiddle and tabor. All of the crew of the ship were women, and all were scantily clad. They served drinks, flirted and laughed at awful jokes, and then took the customers down stairs if they wished. Overall the place was made to separate man from coin, and to give good service in return, though who really talked about the true service no one was sure. As men and women came and went from The Fiesty Fox there seemed to be no shame. All they did was thank the grumpy faun at the front of house, leave by the gangplank and barely look back at the ship where they had spent a pleasant afternoon.

All in all, this being the opening night for the floating brothel, it was going well. As the sun dipped and the artist went home the ship invited the highest class of clients and bright crimson silks were draped over the side. More whores came onto the deck, those from other brothels wanting to take part in this new escapade, and most of them wanting to meet the one who came up with the idea.

At the striking of sunset she came, striding up the pier. Her violet hair was pinned back, elegant and neat. Two horns curved from her temples, ones like a ram and on her lower half were the legs of a goat. A trail of material, cut so high to the waist it could hardly be called a skirt, swam out behind her, and only her breasts were covered by the small bustier that held them close. At her side trotted a small russet fox, the exact look-a-like of the figurehead, and together they came to officially open the brothel for its debut night. As she got to the guards the Matriarch of the Gilded Lily smiled, and was bowed to. When she got to the top of the gangplank her mother shrugged, and nodded. When she entered onto the main floor all eyes turned and stared, and very pleased Philomel waved a hand, and cheering arose.

For The Fiesty Fox was officially open. It was officially alive. And Philomel, the faun-whore, the Nightingale of Radasanth was proud to call herself the captain and final owner of such a place. She felt that this was it, that she had done it.

Finally, finally, she had power.

[Leoric]

Leoric had been spending most of his day training, His recent brawl with Zack Blaze and Lye Ulroke burning bright in his mind. The Brawler may have had strength and his Quaking Palm on his side but it was not enough, He wasn't fast, or agile, enough to keep up. He had left the at closing time and immediately wandered off to train. It wasn't exactly an easy training session, he was punishing himself, but it needed to be done.

“ A li'l 'ard at werk aren't we?” a Familiar voice said.

“Sometimes a man needs to push his limits to see where his limits are” Leoric replied as he let loose three rapid succession Quaking Palm strikes and quickly shoulder rolled to the right before standing back up and looking at his new comer.

“Bu' a sore and 'ired man can not train at his prime” The man continued as he put down a bucket of water and a cloth.

“What's this for then?” Leoric pointed at the bucket as he walked over panting heavily.

“Ye 'ave been our 'ere all day, in the blistering sun, you probably smell worse then Amjheed after he cleans up after the horses.” The man said as he took a few steps back from Leoric. Leoric lifted his arm and took a whiff. The smell drained the color from his face and almost made him spew what ever was still left in his stomach. “Get yourself cleaned up, me and a few of the men are going to visit that fancy ship at the dock tonight, We wanted to extend you an invitation. But you cant be smelling like you are now.”

Leoric now was mildly intrigued, he had heard about a grand opening of the trade ship, he had no idea what 'Goods' was on that ship. Everyone who left it seemed to be rather satisfied and there coin purse was relatively drained. So much so that they could hardly afford an ale when they reached the tavern he was normally sitting in.

“Count me in then, I will wash up and meet you outside Demon-spit for sundown.”

Radasanth Harbor, Sundown.

Leoric has been waiting for roughly twenty minutes when his companions walked outside the Tavern, Clearly had been pre-drinking, When they looked up they save Leoric and were shocked to find him looking rather nice for once. He had 'procured' a stetson hat followed by a full length leather cloak. Those two additions to his regular ensemble of his Leather Chest piece, black trousers, combat boots, leather gloves, and his sword made him look a lot more intimidating then he normally did. Not to mention more charismatic.

“Leoric, where did you get this getup?” One of them asked.

“I may have burrowed it from someone on my way here” He smirked as he tipped his hat at the party “Shall we get going?”

The night was a rather unusual one. It was colder then normal for this time of year, not too cold, the wind had a chill to it. That wasn't the only unusual thing, there was a lot of commotion going on around town. Domestic disputes about some partners cheating on them, men digging into their coin purses to find it empty, and several rowdy groups of men comparing Whores that they had slept with. The later was definitely unique to this evening, most men didn't go into so much detail when explaining their wild nights with some Whore. Leoric wasn't one for paying for sex, he much rather just secure it with his charm and charismatic flair.

As they got near the 'Trade-ship' there was a commotion coming from the gangplank as a burly lad came bursting towards him, holding onto a rather large coin purse, Guards in hot pursuit. Leoric looked down and lowered the brim of his hat. He took a quick sidestep to his left and quickly executed a back quick. He had lowered his body and launched his right foot back, up, and around firmly planting it between the lad's eyes.

Leoric grabbed the coin purse in one hand and the scruff of the thief's shirt with the other. He dragged both of them back to the Guards. The Guards quickly took the man into custody and brought him back onto the ship. Leoric and his companions were escorted up aboard the ship and before a Scantily clad goat lady. He bowed before her and tipped his hat, looking at her with one eye from under the hat.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Leoric commented as he straightened himself out and tossed the pouch of stolen gold forward. “Name's Leoric, My companions and I were interested in some of your 'Goods'. “

[Philomel]

The piercing grey eyes fell straight down in their gaze to the crumpled mongrel on the ground. An eyebrow twitched, lips drew into a thin unamused line. Her hand caught the purse of coins without looking at it, expertly snatching it from the air with the agility of a well-bred assassin. Running her thumb over the bumps of the material, she tilted her head to snap eye contact with one of the guards - the large elf with the dragon-like helmet on her brow - and barked a firm fast order.

"Take him to the hold, Maverik," she said, with little love in her voice, "We will deal with him later."

Maverik grunted a single affirmation and leaned down to practically sweep the man off his feet. The other guard, a human with less muscle and a large javelin for her weapon, took a step back, inclined her head to the Matriarch captain faun, and then twisted around to return down the gangplank.

Less than a second later, as Philomel finally turned around to look at Leoric Bagua, another faun came to join the company, this one looking more grumpy and drunk than the lady herself. On her face was a sour old look, with eyes screwed in the corners with frown lines. She stepped around the men who were 'interested in the goods,' grabbed Philomel's arm and hissed in an upset manner.

"What is going on here?"

Philomel straightened, in order to partly seem taller, and portray the absolute power of the captain of this vessel. She entirely ignored the pinching grasp on her arm, and just pushed the elderly faun away. Lacey, her mother, let out a startled garble of annoyance, but let go all the same. She would receive her answer in due course.

"Thank you, good sir," the Nightingale Matriarch said to the man who had saved her a worthwhile handful of coin, "I am Philomel van der Aart, captain of this ship and Matriarch here." Her lips flicked up in a hint of a smile. "In gratitude I would be pleased for you men to join us for this evening." Her eyes washed over the small company, all males with a great hunger in their groins. Obviously, by the way their eyes devoured her bare stomach and her barer legs it was clear that they had the desire to pay lots for a night of good service. "Please," she spun lightly on her hoof, stretching out an arm as she did so, and thus showing the clients the wide deck of excellent produce, "Come and join us. Your first pleasure will be on the house."