[X] Find one of your fellow Warriors
-[X] Renee (Number 27) and Sophie (Number 30)
-[X] Ask if Louise wants to accompany us, emphasizing that having a cordial working relationship with warriors from her area is going to make future Awakened Beings hunts more successful.
There are certain activities that no self-respecting highborn lady of distinction and integrity would ever publicly partake in and, while you might no longer fulfill the criteria required to be counted among such an esteemed personage any longer, you would like to believe that associating with slavers and pirates is considered universally reprehensible behavior across all cultures and social classes, but, unfortunately, you know all too well that is not the case. It is already taking every bit of self-control you can muster at the moment to simply stop yourself from breaking the arms and legs of every single vile piece of filth on this disgusting heap of a ship and that is only after factoring in the practical consequences of such a course of action, since you doubt you can successfully maneuver this ship to your destination with only yourself and your fellow Warriors. Now that you are so close to your destination, however, you are already beginning to contemplate the feasibility of dispensing some long overdue and extremely well-deserved justice in the form of severely debilitating, painful and lasting, albeit non-lethal, injuries upon the crew of this ship, such that they will never plague these seas again, so, unless your plan is to get yourself branded a Renegade by the Organization before even reaching your assign Territory, much less receive your first assignment, it would probably be best if you avoid unnecessary interactions with the crew.
With all that aside, however, you cannot refute the simply fact that you have been hiding away in the dank bowels of this ship, sleeping in the same cells where, just weeks ago, Goddesses know many innocent young girl were kept in chains, awaiting either a slow, agonizing death as their bodies reject the implanted flesh of man-eating monsters or a likely short and violent existence as a half-breed abomination tasked with hunting down the very creatures whose flesh gave them their inhuman abilities. This matter is especially poignant for you, since your own current accursed existence began in much the same manner, so, if nothing else but for the sake of your pride and sanity , the least you deserve after all the pain and suffering you went through is demonstrate to yourself that you are no longer a weak, terrified little girl hiding in her cabin, reliant on the mercy of vile miscreants who possess none.
"We should be arriving at our destination shortly," you note casually as a you retrieve your armor from the deck and begin to equip it, if for no other reason than simply because you do not trust the scum on this ship to not attempt to abscond with your valuable plate armor, the contents of your traveling pouch or even your blade, especially since, while pirates are many things, most of which you cannot voice in polite company, being known for their wisdom and logic is not among them. For a brief moment, you were worried that Louise would ignore you and continue to remain below deck for the entirety of the voyage, but you quickly release the breath you had been holding when, to your delighted surprise, Louise begins to uncoil herself from her position and moves to follow you in equipping her armor, all without her expression shifting in the slightest.
Turning your attention back to your own equipment, you begin by sliding your feet through your plated chausses, forged from a type of steel far superior in quality to anything you have encountered before in your previous life, but still immeasurably inferior to the seemingly indestructible material that compose your blade, before slipping your feet into your sabatons, making share to test the articulation of the toe segment as well as the balance of the elevated riding heels to ensure a proper fit. Once you are comfortable with the arrangement and confident that you can maneuver properly without dislocating your ankles, you clip the two armor pieces together to form a perfectly fitted set of armored boots that practically feel like a extension of your body, even though you find the inclusion of the riding heels somewhat impractical, since the Organization never bothered to supply you or any other Warrior that you are aware of with a mount and the riding heels do not lend themselves particularly well to long marches or hiking in difficult terrain. You would like to inquire about purchasing a horse after you reach civilization, but while the Organization, in its infinite magnanimity, provided you with enough coin to pay for comfortable lodging and decent food in between assignments, it is hardly enough to purchase a decent palfrey, much less one comparable to your old destrier, and you see no reason to buy a lower-quality steed that would be slower and less comfortable than simply walking.
The next piece of your equipment are is the set of interlocking metal tassets suspend upon an armored belt that slides under and securely clips into your uniform shirt to form a sort of armored skirt to protect your hips and upper thigh, without restricting your movement or the articulation of your body like a full set of traditional faulds and cuisses would have. When you first received your armor after your final trials and ascension into a full-fledged Warrior of the Organization, you were surprised by how perfectly fitted the tassets had been, since they so perfectly align with the contour of your hips that it functions closer to a second layer of skin rather than a normal obtrusive set of plating.
The next portion you turn your attention toward is the upper armor assembly, a complicated and, in your opinion, rather overdesigned arrangement consisting of a pair of triple-layered, segmented pauldrons secured to the metal buckles woven into the shoulders of your uniform, which, in turn, clips into the protective plate on your back, upon which you attach your armored blade carrier, before, finally, completing the assembly by connecting the pieces together with a thin armored gorget that wraps around the neckline of your uniform. Your cape attaches to the two mostly decorative metal prongs extending outward from your blade carrier that are designed to catch on the hilt of your blade to ensure the handle is always locked in the same position for reliable drawing during combat. You had actually been somewhat confused as to the purpose of the cape, which is an obvious liability in combat, until you realized how easily it detaches from the carrier and that its true purpose is to serve as a blanket or rain hood, which the other Warriors appear bizarrely reluctant to use it as for some undiscernible reason. The cape also serves to conceal your traveling satchel, which securely clips onto the metal plate on your back, nestling in-between the small of your back and your blade quite nicely to dissuade any potential thieves and pickpockets.
The last part of your ensemble is your metal vambrace and your gloves, created from the same black fabric as your uniform, which you quickly slip over your wrists and clip into place, making sure to test the articulation of your wrists and fingers, before you perform one last check of your entire armor to ensure that none of the pieces are fitted improperly, since even a snagged buckling or momentary obscured field of view can be the difference between a dead Yoma and a dead Ariella. Once you are finally satisfied that the armor and clothing the Organization equipped you with is not going to short your already depressingly hastened journey into whatever afterlife may or may not exist, you turn to check on the progress of your dear traveling companion, only to note, with more than a little embarrassment, that not only is Louise already fully equipped, she has already returned to her favorite position posture with her knees hugged tightly to her chest and one hand lazily hanging on the hilt of her blade as it rests propped up against her pauldron with the edge dangerously close to her own neck.
Grabbing your own blade, you are about to slot it into your carrier when something makes you pause and inspect the bulky weapon that most trained knights would struggle to even lift due to the weight and density of the strange metal it is forged with, but, ever since the surgery, it feels as light as a feather in your hands. You cannot help but marvel at it for a moment as you gently trace a finger along the engraved blood-red rune that you have recently been assigned as a Numbered Warrior of the Organization, a meaningless thing thrust upon you to replace the identity you lost when you became a half-breed abomination against your will and, when you inevitably fall in battle, that symbol will be used to mark your grave, if you are fortunate enough to have a fellow Warrior lay you to rest. As far as personal heraldry is considered, you suppose you could have been assigned something far worse, but, compared to your family's ancient heraldry depicting a stylized flower petal that has been passed down since the the First Crusade as the personal coat of arms of Saint Fleur, created back when she was still a young maiden newly anointed as a Knight of the Church of the Twin Goddesses, the symbol the Organization assigned to you fails to inspire any emotional response from you at all, other than a vague sense of simmering resentment and emptiness.
With a melancholic sigh that you have grown far too fond of, ever since you became the half-breed abomination you are now, you unceremoniously slot your blade into your back carrier, while you ponder where and how you should spend the last few hours you need to suffer this disgusting ship and its even more disgusting crew.
You can sense the Yoki signature of five other Warriors besides yourself on the ship and you only recognize three of them belonging to Louise, Cerise and Solange from training, but the other two signatures belong to Warriors that you know preciously little about, especially since one of them, Sophie, the new Number Thirty Warrior of the Organization, will be serving alongside you in the Caleninian Empire. For that matter, truth be told, you actually know relatively little regarding either Cerise or Solange as well, but you can state quite emphatically that you simply have no desire to interact with the Number Twenty-Four Warrior in much the same way you have elected to avoid unnecessary interactions with the vile crew of this floating hulk, since they are essentially cut from the same cloth and, while you might be overattributing unwarranted malice to your fellow Warrior, a part of you remains convinced that she would have fit into this wretched life quite eagerly, if not for that little 'half-breed abomination' problem. While you acknowledge that it is morally abhorrent to wish ill and misfortune on a fellow Warrior, a part of you would like nothing more than to never suffer the grating company of the current Number Twenty-Four Warrior again, which, to be generous with your phrasing, does not necessarily mean you wish for her death, especially since you would be incredibly surprised if she does not desert the Organization at the first opportune moment.
On the other hand, you are unsure how exactly you should interpret the very high likelihood that a scoundrel as opportunistic as Cerise is more likely to desert the Organization before you do. Would you abandon the real real and essential duties of a Warrior for your own personal wellbeing or has the Organization broken you like an animal to the point that you refuse to even entertain the possibility of a life free from their cruelties?
As for the Number Thirteen Warrior of the Organization, while you certainly do not find the pious and demure girl to be a objectionable in the same manner as you find Cerise, Solange has made it quite clear that she would not appreciate the company of any Warrior and, considering her life before she became a half-breed abomination, you can certainly understand her behavior, even if you recognize the fact that she will have to venture outside of her emotional shell eventually. As the ranking Warrior of the Region she is nominally assigned to, however, you recognize quite clearly that you have a duty to assist her, but, to your immense shame, you cannot quite bring yourself to reach out to her at this time for fear of appearing to not respect her boundaries, especially since she has gone to get lengths to avoid you and your fellow Warriors. This manner of indecisiveness is rather foreign to you and you find it mildly frustrating with so many of your instincts pulling you in different directions, with your sense of duty pushing you to confront the girl, while your empathy directs you to give the girl time to come to terms for her reality on her own, but what you really find most grating of all, however, is that while you can acknowledge the safest course of action is to not intrude where you are obviously unwanted, you cannot help but feel as though you are slightly making cowardly attempt to avoid taking any responsibilities for a potentially wrong choice.
Forcing yourself to take a deep breath to control your mounting frustration and self-loathing, you glance over at Louise subtly, hoping the other girl does not sense your distress, only to note in relief that that the Number Five Warrior does not appear to even be paying you any attention at all, content as she always appears to be with simply starring off into the void.
"I do not believe I have ever met Sophie and Renee before," you note casually, in a pathetic attempt to further avoid your responsibilities as both a Single-Digit Warrior as well as a someone who who you would like to believe is of sound moral character, even if that belief is weakening by the day. "Have you had any interactions with them? Are they from your Class?"
"No," the other girl responds lazily, her voice slightly muffled with her mouth pressed up against her legs.
"You and Renee are assigned to the same Region, are you not?" You ask, only to receive an indifferent shrug in response.
You already knew the answer, of course, but while you might have convinced yourself that you are not familiar enough with Solange to intrude into her affairs, almost three years of daily interactions, even if they typically involved dulled blades and a lot of blood instead of words, have given you enough of an understanding of the Number Five Warrior to recognize how depressingly lonely she seems, even though she might not actively realize that herself. You never really considered yourself a particularly empathetic person, before you ceased being a person at all, but the fact that all the other Warriors on this lovely little voyage, save for Sophie and Renee, chose to secluded themselves in different cells, while Louise chose to share a cell with you came as a pleasant surprise and a pretty clear sign of her emotional state, even if the other girl never gave you a reason why or even appeared cognizant of how one could interpret her decision. In a bizarrely contradictory manner which you find at once both depressing and rather heartwarming, it would appear that you are the closest thing Louise has something approaching a friend, especially since you are almost certain that no other girl in your Generation has interacted with Louise as much as you have, but that would also mean that she is about to be separated from what is likely the one constant and, you would hope, stabilizing influence in her life, leaving her truly alone in a land that despises her for simply existing and with no one she can turn to for support.
The relationship between Sophie and Renee appears, on the surface at least, remarkably similar to your own relationship with Louise, and while you would have preferred if the much more emotionally welcoming Sophie had been assigned to the Kingdom of Lacrirori, you are beginning to suspect that the Organization is deliberately isolating Warriors from anything which can remind them that they are something more than a weapon. No one should suffer a cruel and hopeless existence, so while you might not be able to personally help her overcome her inner demons, the least you can do for a friend is to help her connect with the only other Warrior on this ship who is assigned to her Region and whose name is not Cerise.
"We should go and introduce ourselves," you declare with a confident smile, even though you are hardly confident that Louise will go along with your scheme, until, for a brief instant, so fast that, even with your inhuman perception, you are unsure whether or not it was merely a figment of your imagination, a look of surprised certainty flashes across her face, before she manages to regain her composure. For a moment, Louise simply stares at you intently to the point that you were beginning to worry you had overstepped your boundaries, but, to your relief, after what felt like hours, the Number Five Warrior gives you a stiff shrug of apparent indifference before uncoiling herself and hopping onto the deck in one smooth motion.
"Excellent, this should be a great opportunity to familiarize ourselves with our new sisters-in-arms," you note cheerfully and, for once, you are actually surprised that much of your high spirits feel genuine, instead of a false wall of confidence and optimism that you feel obligated to maintain for the sake of your sanity and pride. "We will be fighting side by side together, after all," you quickly add as Louise gives you a skeptical look, even as she begins to wordlessly follow you out of the cell.
The brig, or more accurately described as the slave-pens, is situated at the aft section of the bottom deck, where all the other cargo and provisions of the ship are stored. In total, you count six cells with three on either side of a narrow walkway, which separated from the rest of the ship by a metal barred gate that the pirates were at least smart enough left unlocked for this particular voyage. You can sense Solange in her own cell, the same place she has been all voyage, and, for a brief moment, you consider knocking on the door of her cell, but you quickly reconsider as you and Louise make your way out of the cells into a half-empty storeroom in the bottom holds of the ship. You have to actively resist the urge to retch as your enhanced senses are nearly overwhelmed by the nauseating stench of spoiled provisions and rotting fish as you step over massive rats that, ironically, unnerve you more than Yoma, and hurry toward the stairs to the lower of the ship, holding your breath and a hand over your nostrils the entire time, if only to avoid accidentally inhaling any of the fat, bloated flies filling the air.
Whispering a silent thanks to the Goddesses that the Organization had at least provided you with some salted meats and a small flask of water to spare you from the humiliation of being fed rotting food and spoiled water, you finally suck in a deep breath of still moldy and dank air that, mercifully, is still infinitely more tolerable than the hellish conditions in the bottom deck as you climb half-rotten steps and emerge into the crew living quarters, only for a new torment to reveal itself.
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us lowly peasants with her company!"
You have to bit down on your tongue to stop yourself from saying something unbecoming of a proper lady as you turn your attention toward the gritting voice of Cerise to see that the Number Twenty-Four Warrior lounging at a table with a handful of other miscreants, all of whom, judging by the number of empty bottles and their befuddled expressions, are in various stages of intoxication, which Cerise is, unsurprisingly, taking full advantage of by apparently swindling them out of their ill-begotten coin through some manner of card game that she is, no doubt, exploiting her inhuman abilities to cheat in. A casual examination of the crew quarters reveals dozens of disgusting bodies sleeping on hammocks and dozens more passed out on the deck or in the rower benches on either side of the hull, even though you can see sunlight through the various hatches opening onto the main deck, which betrays a truly mindboggling lack of discipline that you find surprising despite your already immeasurable contempt for the crew.
Cerise herself is a relatively petite girl, shorter than you, Louise and most of the other girls in your class, most likely owing to her impoverished upbringing, but she compensates for these deficiencies through a quick and venomous tongue that can browbeat most physically superior girls into submission, but when intimidation fails, she is quick to turn to more scandalous means of persuasion. In fact, judging by the vulgar looks the pair of men sitting to either side of her are directing her way and the position of their hands, it hardly takes a genius to recognize that she has already worked her charms on much of the crew, which, now that you think about it, likely explains why you sense her Yoki signature moving to a different cabin aboard the ship every night, including the 'great' cabin, such as it is, of the ship's captain herself. You do not really see the appeal yourself, since, while you can acknowledge that Cerise could be considered attractive in a roguish sense, but considering her scarred face, disastrous hair and, of course, the giant gapping wound running down her torso , you would hardly consider her conventionally attractive, even before you account for her vile personality, but, judging by the fact that you can count the number of teeth the crew of this ship collectively possess on one hand with fingers to spare, you suppose beggars can hardly be choosers.
"Cerise, keeping busy, I see," you respond coolly, not dignifying her with anything more than the scorn she rightfully deserves. "Did you at least manage to ascertain from your new companions how long it will be before we reach our destination?"
"Why? What's the hurry?" The other girl responds with a toothy grin as she takes a large swig of whatever vile intoxicant is contained within the dirty bottles sown around the table and deck, before she raises one eyebrow and gestures vaguely in your direction with the now empty bottle. "What's the matter, princess? The stench down there must getting real bad for you to be here," She scoffs idly as she tosses the empty bottle over her shoulder and pries another bottle of spirits from the hands of an unconsciousness pirate at the table, before unceremoniously shoving her off of the wooden barrel she had been using as a stool, leaving her sprawled out and mewling in pain on the deck. "Well, c'mon, make yourselves at home and get comfortable, we're still a few hours out," she informs you lazily before returning to her game, even though, or perhaps especially since, the few remaining semi-conscious members at the table are more interested in Cerise herself than they are in the game. "Sorry about the mess, maybe you can get your servants to clean it up for you?"
"Thank you, but I prefer more respectable company," you reply evenly, before turning to make your way up the stairs to the main deck, where you can sense the Yoki signature of Sophie and Renee on the upper stern observation deck. "Good day."
"Wow, someone's extra stuck-up today, weren't we?" Cerise hits back immediately, but you can feel an admittedly childish smile tugging at the corner of your lips, since you can tell that your comment aggravated her more than she would like to pretend it did. "You're just cranky because you can't get off without melting something off!" She calls up after you, but you do not dignify her vulgarity with a response and quickly banish all thoughts of her from your mind as you finally emerge from the disgusting interior of the ship with still trailing along behind you and take a deep, greedy lung-full of that almost-as-disgusting warm, briny ocean air.
One of the benefits of your mutilation is that your eyes instantly readjust properly to the light of the sun beginning to rise over the horizon, not that you required light to see the distant coastline off of the ship's starboard side, of course, but, while your enhanced eyesight would have allowed you to pick up every detail with perfect clarity, down to the individual leaves on the distant trees, what you were actually hoping, and failing, to spot is any sign of recognizable civilization, but, as far as you can see, this particular section of the coastline appears undeveloped with not even a single small fishing boat, which are so vital to the economy of any coastal settlement, in sight. Realizing that you lack the requisite information to make any meaningful extrapolation from the visuals of the coastline, you turn your attention toward the aft castle, where you can sense the presence of two Yoki signatures you have come to associate with Sophie and Renee.
As you slowly make your way aft and begin to climb the stairs, first to the quarter deck, you note, curiously, for the first time just how quiet and lightly manned the ship is, to the point that you can actually hear the clicking of your boots striking the deck, which is strange for a great war galley with over a hundred oars and three masts, a now obsolete ship design developed during the final years of the First Coviatean Empire that typically sets sail with a crew complement of over a thousand sailors and marines. Without a full complement of skilled oarsmen, it becomes essentially impossible for this ship to catch any merchant ship that is not becalmed or ran aground, which means that this ship is likely a coastal raider, with captured slaves manning the oars on the return voyage, who are then sold along with the other spoils to pay for a temporary crew hired on before a raid and released with a share of the spoils after returning to port. Most of the crew were likely paid and released in Polum, leaving only the captain and a skeletal crew to handle shortage voyage to the Organization's island stronghold as well as a larger share of the profit from condemning Goddesses know how many innocent girls to this cruel existence.
You feel your hands tighten into fists so hard that your nails are beginning to painfully bite into the palm of your hands, but, fortunately, none of the handful of pirates on the main deck had possessed the suicidal audacity to approach you and, in fact, most of them fearfully maneuvered out of your path as you advanced up the final steps onto the stern observation deck to be greeted by what is very likely the first actual openly welcoming face you have met since this otherwise miserable voyage began, two weeks ago.
"Ariella, Louise, good morning! C'mon, I was just telling Ren about the last time I was in Erorumia," Sophie greets you with a rather infectious excitement as she enthusiastically waves for you to join her at the observation gallery, while her dear friend Renee simply gives you a stiff nod of acknowledgment before returning her attention back toward the coastline.
"Good morning to you, too, Sophie, Renee," you respond with a polite smile as you idly move to join your fellow Warriors at the stern observation balcony that extends over and serves as a balcony for the great cabin quarter galleries. "I was not aware you were so well-traveled," you note curiously as you eye the half-rotten taffrail skeptically, which is all that is separating you from a very uncomfortable bath in the ocean, before thinking better of leaning your weight against it like the others. "By chance, are you familiar with these waters and lands?"
"Familiar with it? I was born right here, in the ocean!" Sophie declares proudly and manages to hold her composure for a single awkward second, before bursting in giggles, drawing a slightly embarrassed blushing chuckle from Renee. "Ah, my family ran a small trading company operating out of Rilanis, so I spent most of my life on ships," she finally manages to explain in between fits of laughter, not noticing the fact that you have gone very still at the mention of where her family hailed and conducted their business from. While it might not have the infamous history and well-deserved reputation of Polum, the city of Runium is, by far, the most powerful and prosperous settlement, not just in the Runiumian Republic, but the entire continent, owing to its ancient role as the gateway between the old Empire and the eastern Crusader Kingdoms, which it played a vital role in creating by serving as the starting point of the Blessed Crusade and, in return, its economy prospered as the spoils of war flowed back west through its markets, while armies and supplies flowed east to support the campaign.
Forcing yourself to take several deep breaths to calm yourself down, you have to remind yourself that, as far as Runiumian cities go, Rilanis is one of the few that, owing to its historical ties to the Church and the Crusader Kingdoms, places limits on the slave trade, even if they only do so to avoid damaging their lucrative trade with the east and because of the local cultural taboo against the practice, while still allowing that vile institution to operate in the shadows.
"What do your family traffic in, if I might ask?" You probe nonchalantly, feigning simple curiosity, which, thankfully, Sophie appears oblivious to.
"Hmm? Oh, we mostly dealt in silk and dyes," Sophie reveals cheerfully, failing to notice your shoulders relax and you finally releasing the breath you had been holding. "We used to sell our cargo in Rerutodurum, then fill our holds with Bortisian wine and sell that for a decent profit in Caleninia," she reveals nonchalantly, as though she did not just reveal that her trading company tried on making routine voyages halfway across the continent, a journey that typically makes a month and goes through some of the most pirate-infested waterways in the land. That mention of your ancestral home would have peaked your interest, but you had already noted the fact that Sophie referred to her family enterprise in the past tense and, now, you feel as though you might know why it apparently no longer exists, even if you certainly are not so heartless as to question Sophie regarding the destruction of what is obviously a very cherished part of her life, especially since you suspect it might be related to how she came to become a half-breed abomination like you.
"It sounds as though you are quite familiar with our route," you note with a friendly smile that fails to even approach the sincerity of Sophie's. "Would you happen to know how much longer this voyage will last?"
"Hmm, I think I overheard the crew talking about Castiale, a small harbor in Erorumia," Sophie responds thoughtfully with her fingers on her chin, before she leans in toward you with a slightly exaggerated conspiratorial expression. "I don't think this ship can legally make port in any major harbor without the crew getting thrown into the dungeons," she whispers after a quick glance around to ensure there are no potential eavesdroppers. "If they do plan to dock at Castiale, then it should only be an hour, maybe two at most."
"Excellent, the faster we part ways with this vessel, the better," you mutter gravely, before you freeze as you note, in the corner of your eye, Louise staring at the silent Renee with an intensity that you find rather concerning. "Excuse for me for a moment," you politely inform Sophie, feeling a ping a guilt when you see a flash of disappointed befuddlement cross her face before her smile returns, even though your heart breaks slightly as you note that it feels less sincere than before.
Moving over to stand beside Louise at the port-side taffrail, you idly pretend to toy with a rusty and badly maintain swivel gun mounted on the highest part of the ship besides the crow's nest to allow the crew to fire onto the deck of other galleys and perhaps even smaller cogs, but still too low in the water to properly employ against more modern designs, which likely explains why this particular piece appears to have not been fired in quite some time and probably never will again.
"Is something troubling you?" You ask in a soft whisper that can only be heard over the roar of the ocean and cacophony of the crew due to Louise's inhuman senses.
"It's nothing," the other girl responds after a moment before finally turning away the other girl, only to suddenly stiffen an instant before her attention snaps to the fore of the ship. "Yoma," she mutters with an almost eager excitement in her voice and a jittering in her hands that you have never seen from her before now.
You immediately turn your attention in the direction she is facing, but it takes your greatly inferior Yoki Perception few seconds before you detect the faint Yoki signatures at the very edge of her sensory range at around the same time you visually spot an three enormous crimson masts crest the horizon, the infamous black Dragon sigil of the Caleninian Empire proudly displayed for the entire world to see and fear, even though this particular ship is dangerous for an entirely different reason.
"Goddesses, the entire crew?" You mutter in astonishment as you focus your Yoki perception and begin to count how many shape-shifting, man-eating monsters are bearing down on your comparably defenseless transport ship. "There must be at least a hundred of them, maybe more..." You note absentmindedly before turning to seek confirmation from the much more perceptive Number Five Warrior, only to sigh in resignation when you notice the other girl has seemingly retreated into her own world as she stares ahead at the approaching ship with a mixture of anticipation and hatred that you can only distinguish from her usual stoic indifference due to years of close interactions.
"Cap'n, ship on the horizon bearing down on us!" The watcher up the crow's nest suddenly screams, the sheer panic in her voice bringing you a small bit of catharsis in an otherwise troublesome situation as she desperate rings the alarm bell to wake the crew to the impending confrontation.
"What's going on?" Sophie sudden asks from beside you, so focused on the rapidly approaching ship that you failed to even detect her and Renee joining you.
"A horde of Yoma posing as an Imperial naval patrol ship," you explain briskly as you hurry down the steps to the quarter deck, right as the captain of the ship makes her way out of the great cabin, her dirty greatcoat unbuttoned and her jet-black hair loosely stuffed into her sun-bleached tricorn hat. "Captain, that entire ship is infested with Yoma," you reveal to the pirate, while trying your hardest to remain as professional as you can reasonably expect to be when addressing a murderous slaver.
"Oh, that's just fucking great," the woman snares before shoving the young helmsman off the wheel to take control of the ship herself as she begins to desperate spin the wheel hard to port, until it locks into place. "Mister Felix, where the fuck are you, you lazy fuck?! Get your fat ass up here! Now!" She screams back toward the executive officer's cabin, even as crewmembers begin to scramble up onto the deck, many of them still not even dressed and some appearing extremely hungover. "What the fuck are you idiots doing up here?" She barks down at the undisciplined crew, who simply glance about in confusion before she clarifies her orders. "Get your asses down onto the oars and give me hard to port! Now!"
"Can this vessel outrun that ship?" You ask idly as you grab hold of the ship riggings for balance, while doing your best to avoid interfering with the crew as they begin to desperately hoist up the masts to avoid being blown further toward the approaching Yoma-controlled warship.
"That's an Imperial Great Carrack and she's got the wind behind her, what'd ya think?" the Captain growls angrily, before she turns around and screams for her incompetent executive officer again. "Felix, if you don't get your ass out here
now, you're going overboard, ya hear me?!"
"I'm here, I'm here," a voice responds in a gruff voice responds as a massive, mountain of a man lowers his head to emerge through the doorway to his private cabin.
"Bout damn time, you useless oaf," the Captain sneers as the cumbersome galley finally begins to slowly turn away from the approaching warship, but it hardly requires a veteran seaman to recognize the fact that the other ship will intercept your transport in mere minutes. "We got ourselves a bit of situation here, if you haven't noticed."
"We can't outrun her," the Executive Officer, Felix, apparently, notes calmly, in stark contrast to the madness around him. "We either gotta fight or beach ourselves and hide inland."
"What's the big deal? You got us here," a new voice points out as Cerise finally emerges from the crew quarters with her armor equipped and a confident smile plastered on her face as she saunters her way up to the quarter deck at a leisurely pace without a care in the world. "If anything, you should be happy you're about to claim a new flagship,
Commodore."
You are about to retort and give Cerise a piece of your mind, when, to your surprise, another voice interjects.
"That is not our assignment," Renee notes evenly, still clade in only her uniform with her blade nowhere to be seen.
"What the fuck are you on about?" Cerise retorts angrily. "I thought our job was to kill Yoma, not run away from them."
"That is not our assignment," Renee repeats, her eyes narrowing as she stares down the higher ranking Warrior and, in that moment, you can feel your eyes widen in surprise as your Yoki perception finally recognize the girl's strangely murky Yoki signature as a phenomena similar to your own Yoki signature when you intentionally suppress your Yoki Energy.
"Woah now, let's not get fight each other, not when there's Yoma right there," Sophie quickly interjects before the confrontation can escalate further, which Renee, after staring down Cerise for several more tense seconds, finally acquiesces to with a stiff nod. "Right, this might not be our official assignment, but we shouldn't just let these Yoma terrorize the waterways," Sophie points out before turning to you for support. "We should help whenever we can, right?"
Your first instinct is, of course, to agree wholeheartedly to that idea, but, to your eternal shame, you find yourself hesitating as you consider the practicable consequences of your actions. A quick glance over at Louise reveals nothing, as the girl remains in her bizarre fixation with the approaching ship, which you interpret to mean she would support the aggressive option, even though something tells you that her motivations are likely quite different from the chivalric and moral obligations you feel compiled to uphold.
After considering your options, none of them perfect, you grit your teeth and force yourself to:
[X] Side with Cerise and Sophie
No matter how much you might despise the scum on this ship and the undeniable fact that allowing a pirate crew to seize control over an entire Imperial Great Carrack would instantly make this pack of murderous thugs one of the most dangerous pirate crews to ever plague these oceans, you still cannot forsake your moral standards, especially since allowing the Yoma to live would be indirectly condemning Goddesses know how many other innocents to become their prey.
-[X] But Try to Scuttle the Ship
With that said, while you have less than no obligation to leave the ship intact. If anything, you would say you have an obligation to not allow that warship to fall into the hands of slavers. It might cause some problems with the pirates and Cerise, but you would proudly wear their scorn as a badge of honor, even if you have to swim the rest of the way to your assigned Region.
[ ] Side with Renee
Though it shames you greatly, you cannot bring yourself to actively assist a murderous band of slavers acquire one of the most advanced warships ever built. You should make it clear to the Captain that you do not condone any action which would intentionally place the crew into harm's way and, while you will defend them if they are attacked directly, you will do nothing if the Yoma simply decide to blow this ship to pieces from a distance with their guns. You can only pray to the Goddesses that the Organization has already assigned a Warrior to wipe out this particular nest before it can claim any more victims.
[ ] Propose a Compromise
You will defend this ship from any potential Yoma boarding action, but you will not pursue the enemy if they decide to flee. With any luck, you can thin out the Yoma herd to such a degree that they can no longer effectively crew the massive warship, without allowing these pirates to claim it as a prize.
[ ] (Write-In)
