The Blackriver Flag | Part 1: Fifty-Seven Degrees North

[Scootaloo]

Compass Gift and Caoimhe the griffon have only been flying together as co-captains - and partners - on the airship Andraste for a few months. So far, they've faced little more than cargo deliveries and the odd stowaway, and Compass's call to complete some mapping of the Northern Griffon Kingdom seems like a harmless request at first. However, an eerie coincidence leads the Andraste alongside a mysterious ship named the Leucetios. What the dark, weary captain of the Leucetios has in store for Caoimhe will leave her reeling - and will lead the Andraste and her crew into treacherous skies unknown.

Characters: Caoimhe (Eris), Compass_Gift (Vinyl), Cearnaigh (played by Compass_Gift)

"Brow's up!" "Anchor's aweigh, Cap'n!" "Gantry's clear!" "All stations report ready!" Cries sound out from all over the ship - a good crew is rarely silent. Caoimhe stands on the quarterdeck, with one forefoot on the ship's wheel as she looks out over her ship and the ponies hard at work. "Un'erstood! Sails one third ahead, twenty degrees up! Lets 'ead out, folks." The sails on the sides of the ship unfurl and turn upwards, Garnet works her magic belowdecks, and The Andraste starts to leave the beach behind them. Vacation had been fun, but they're headed for colder climes, now - Miss Compass has a job to do.

Compass_Gift- that'll be Captain Compass, thank you - stands next to Caoimhe with a determined expression, compass in her hoof. "Fifty-seven degrees north," she says to her fellow captain, tilting her hat down to shield her eyes from the sunlight.

Caoimhe has that determined-captain-look going, too. She's had plenty of practice. The griffon nods stoically and confirms, "Fifty-seven degrees north, aye!" The wheel spins, bringing them around hard to port - the deck lists under them, and the ship skims the tops of the trees around the resort, before it straightens back out. "Sails two-t'irds ahead, thirty degrees up! Lets git some sky, lasses!" she says with a grin, and the ship starts gaining a bit more speed and altitude. The griffon leans over towards Compass and whispers, "Oi, I love ye," with a wink and a grin.

Compass nearly loses her balance as the airship lifts - she is an earth pony, after all - but she manages to right herself and looks towards the horizon determinedly. When Caoimhe breaks her tough-gal captain exterior for a moment to whisper to her, Compass can’t help but smile. She similarly leans over, pressing a kiss to the griffon’s cheek. “Oi. I love you too.”

The ship moves upwards until it breaks through the cloud layer, at which point Caoimhe calls to level off the ship, bring it to full ahead, and hands the wheel over the Beryl. She sweeps a wing around Compass and returns that kiss, then heads to move off the quarterdeck. "Shouldn' be long t'get t'th' mountains - there's a nice wind at our backs. Prolly a lil' past th' afternoon we should be 'ere, methinks. A mail carrier shoul' meet us 'alfway, too."

Compass_Gift nodnods, and looks over at Caoimhe. "Um... what do you need me to do now, Captain?" she says politely, rubbing a forehoof over the other - the pony equivalent of twiddling thumbs.

Caoimhe shrugs. "I was 'bout t'ask ye th' same thing, Cap'n," the griffon says with a mirthful smile. She takes one of those rubbing forehooves and lifts it to her beak to kiss it - yes, in front of the crew. Go ahead, let one of them say something. She dares them to. "This is fer yer job, lil blade - mappin' them caves an' such. Ye tell me what ye need from me. If we need t' get t'gether supplies, need to git t'gether a team o' extra hooves t'come along an' 'elp... whate'er ye need, m'love."

Compass_Gift finds herself internally melting a little at Caoi's sweet little kiss. Keep it together, Compass. You're a strong Captain, not a drizzly fangirl... o//o "Um.. erm, yes, I'll erm... I probably need some quills and ink. I'll be over at the mapping desk, but I need plenty of ink as I'll run out. And paper. I'll make mistakes." Compass nods again. She's still blushing a little.

Caoimhe grins mischievously - she knows she can make Compass swoon, and enjoys doing it from time to time. The griffon nods at that list, and says, "Aye, we got plenty o' that." She fidgets a bit, and says, "I don' know much 'bout cart'graphy - will ye need us t' go take measurements 'r somethin' inside o' th' caves? Or will ye? Or...?" She looks a bit embarrassed, not knowing much about her lover's craft. Then again, Compass probably doesn't know much about spying, or assassination, either.

Compass_Gift hmmms. "Depends how detailed the maps need to be. I will check the letter, but if the RGS has asked for cave depth then I'll need someone to make a note, along with the altitude of the land. Though that might take us a long time..."

Caoimhe nods. "So, they jes wanted a map o' th' outside o' the caves?" The griffon asks, looking curious. "Kin't say I know much 'bout yer werk, lil blade, 'r what they wan' - I jes wanna 'elp as I kin." She gives Compass a nuzzle and a little smile.

Compass_Gift retrieves the letter and reads it. "Hmmm. Yep, they need cave depth and altitude. I thought so." She calls across to Beryl, "Did we get any sea level readings in the South we can use as a base for the altitude?" Compass would have taken some herself, were she not so distracted by the pretty little griffon beside her. The griffon who, by the way, is nuzzling her. Most distractingly. The adventurer tilts her head to kiss her for a few moments, stealing the time as she can.

Caoimhe mmms quietly and gives Compass a little kiss before she heads towards their cabin, and the charting table therein. "Sea level readin's? I di'n--" Caoimhe starts to say, but she's cut off from a voice on the quarterdeck. "I did, Cap'n," says Beryl, from the ship's wheel. "There's a folio of measurements - pressures, altitudes, co-ordinates, all that - in your Cabin, ma'am." The pegasus smiles proudly, but keeps her eyes on the sky ahead. Caoimhe grins, and says, "Thanks, Miz Beryl, well done." With that, the griffon opens the door to the cabin she shares with her beloved, and heads in.

Compass_Gift smiles brightly at Beryl and nodnods. "Oh, excellent. Thank you." She follows Caoi down, finding the documents in her desk and poring over them. "Goodness! How thorough. Perfect." She looks over at Caoi and smiles warmly. "I'm touched. They're such good lasses."

Caoimhe looks through the documents as Compass puts them down. "Aye, she's quite thorough, that one. There's a reason why she's me first mate, as it is." The figures and measurements don't really mean much to her, but she can see Beryl probably sunk a day's worth of effort into the work. "Well, we've got a bit o' time 'fore th' mail clipper'll catch us - we kin git stuff ready fer yer mappin', or mebbe eat some lunch... tis up t'ye, m'love."

Compass_Gift nodnods. "They're excellent," she says, looking over them. She smiles. "Well, whatever you like, I mean we could have lunch, or prepare some things, or..." a hoof slides around the griffon and pulls her in, with a nuzzle from her nose. "We could do something e--"
"Cap'n!" comes a voice from the deck, before Topaz rushes down with a peculiar expression. "Unknown airship approachin'!"

Caoimhe listens to Compass, and grins when she's pulled in. How do these two get any work done? She's about to nuzzle back when Topaz gets their attention. Caoimhe looks at Topaz, glances back at Compass, then heads for the door. "C'mon, lovely, let's see what it's about. What's got ye all riled up, 'paz?"

Compass_Gift looks a little worriedly at Caoimhe, but follows her out nonetheless. Outside, an unknown, battered airship approaches, a light grey hue - perfect for blending in with muggy Griffon Kingdom skies. Its captain - a cloaked, black griffon male - positively glares at the Andraste. The immediate appearance of the ship and the crew make something apparent - this is no Legion ship. But it is built for combat. "Halt!" cries a similarly cloaked crewmember. He then speaks in a foreign tongue. "Luafaidh do na críche! An bhfuil tú cara nó namhaid don Léigiún Griffon?" ["State your purpose! Are you friend or foe to the Griffon Legion?"] Compass blinks, and gently nudges Caoimhe forward to answer the question.

Caoimhe bristles. "Love," she whispers to Compass, "In our cabin, hidden up on top'f th' middle rafter is a locked box. Get it." She then ascends to the quarterdeck, giving a confident smile to Beryl, then turning towards the other ship. "Halt? Nay, we kin talk jes fine like this!" she shouts. Caoi looks over her shoulder at Beryl, and says, "Keep a lil distance tween us an' em."
"Nach bhfuil muid cara nó namhaid don Léigiún - is é seo an long Andraste agus clocha sneachta againn ó Equestria!" she shouts back. ["We are not friend or foe to the Legion - this is the ship Andraste and we hail from Equestria!"]

Compass_Gift nodnods, and hurries up to the cabin to find the box. In the meantime, there is hushed talking amongst the griffon crew, before there's a repetition of, "Luaigh do na críche sin!" ["State your purpose!"]

Caoimhe narrows her eyes, and shouts, "Táimid anseo chun a dhéanamh léarscáileanna agus suirbhé faoi chonradh leis an Ríocht!" ["We're here to perform map-making and survey under contract to the Kingdom!"] Her talons dig into the deck a bit and her feathers ruffle slightly.

Compass_Gift returns with the box, and gives it to Caoimhe wordlessly. She didn't look in it. More conversation bubbles up from the camouflaged ship, before the messenger shouts in the same language, "Send us your captain!"

Caoimhe takes the box - which was locked anyhow - and produces a key, apparently hidden in her feathers. From inside, she pulls out a bundle of velvet, which she opens. Revealed is an array of shining, sharp, throwing knives, all the same. Hey, didn't she throw them all away? Keeping them out of sight of the other ship, she quickly takes them and places them throughout her wings and other feathers, hidden out of sight. "Why?" she shouts, in Griffige, "We have no business with you!"

Compass_Gift holds the box open for Caoimhe, nodding in silent understanding, even helping to keep her shielded as she slides the knives amongst her plumage. "They're pirates, Caoi," Compass whispers. She's seen this kind of ship all too often on the sea. "Their business with you is to steal the Andraste and enslave the lasses. We are in great danger." The messenger pauses, conferring with his crewmates, before his voice drops low and threatening. "Send your captain," he tells Caoimhe in their native tongue, "Or we will send ours."

Caoimhe nods at Compass's words. "Aye," she says quietly, "An' I won' let that 'appen." She then shouts to the other ship, in Griffige again, "I said we 'ave no business wit' ye! Break off an' leave us be. If ye send anygriffon o'er, we will defend ourselves!" Then Caoi looks over her shoulder. "Beryl, break us away. Hard to starboard, lass."

A flurry of hooves is stirred into motion as the strong female crew of the Andraste works to pull the ship away - but they are stopped in their tracks by a thud on the deck, the sound of a landing comparable to a rumble of thunder. "Halt," says the captain of the enemy ship. He lifts a talon, to immediately block any attempts of defence. "Ye don't wanna go doin' that, lass." This he says in Equestrian, with the same thick accent as Caoimhe. Compass feels her stomach lurch. "Step away from her," she warns.

Caoimhe narrows her eyes, and a low rumble of a growl can be heard from her. "What in th' hells are ye doin' on my ship, gan onóir píosa cac," Caoimhe grumbles. She just called him an honourless piece of [BUY SOME APPLES], though. She's not always been the best at diplomacy. "Tell me why not t' cut ye down where ye stand."

Compass_Gift stands behind Caoimhe, ready to jump to her defence - but with the amount of knives she has on her Compass would say she's got all bases covered. The male griffon growls, and spits on the deck of the Andraste - an incredibly disrespectful action! - at Caoimhe's Griffige insult. "Ye won' cut me down," he says sharply. "Because ye know who I am. Don' ye?" The male griffon's gaze lands on his counterpart, and Compass almost jumps back. Their eyes are the same hue of red. "Don' ye, Caoimhe?"

When the other captain spits on the deck of her ship, her fur bristles, feathers ruffle, and in a flash she's up on her hindlegs, wings wrapped around her midsection. Hidden in that wing cocoon are forefeet full of knives, and a whole lot of angry. But suddently he turns his gaze to her and says that - and for a moment, she has no clue what's going on - but sudenly the realization hits her. "C- Cearnaigh?" she whispers. She stunned silent for a moment, but stays standing, ready to fight. "What... what th' hells is this?" she starts to say, her voice raising in volume, "Are ye some sort'f... 'f... pirate now? An' I /know/ ma and pa didn' raise ye t'be spittin' on th' deck o' yer kin's ship!"

Cearnaigh stands firm, his legs set squarely on the deck of his long-lost sister's ship. "An' I know ma and pa didn' raise ye to abandon ye kin," he says cuttingly. His gaze doesn't move. His wings shoot out either side of him - his left knocking Topaz over in the process. Compass rushes to help her up. "Not e'en a *letter*, fer years," Cearnaigh continues. "No word o'ye. An' here I find ye, with yer own ship, prosperin' outside o' our land without e'en a thought for ye family." Suddenly, a talon is extended, and takes hold of Caoimhe's neck. "What right have ye?! How dare ye? I should steal ye ship an' ye lasses right now."

Caoimhe lets him speak, growling when he knocks over Topaz. When Cearnaigh takes hold of her neck, she's quick to react, and has two knives pressing into his chest and neck - not hard enough to draw blood, but he knows they're there. "Abandon ye? I spent years, years in th' Legion, an' e'ery bit that I earned I sent t' th' family. An when I were done - not too long ago - I... I couldn't go back t' th' family. Not after what I saw and did in th' Legion. Same reason I didn't write, as it is." She growls again and snarls, "If ye wish t' begrudge me that an' try t' take me ship, yer welcome to try, but ye won' live t' see't 'appen. But if ye wanna at least pretend t' act like family, you let me go an' change yer tone. I ain't done a thin' wrong by th' family."

Cearnaigh takes in a sharp breath at the feel of knives at his neck and chest. "Ye left us with them," he snarls. "The Legion." His eyes move a little, he thinks carefully. Memories batter at his consciousness. "They came fer us. Whatever ye did, it cost us our home. It cost us our reputation." He pauses, and exhales a shuddering breath. "It cost us Sianna." Sianna. Their youngest sister. She'd be in the early years of adolescence now.

Caoimhe looks... confused. Still angry, but also confused. "Th' Legion? No. They wouldn've! There were no reason fer it! I served well, did me job, left un'er honour'ble conditions," she says - and then when He mentions Sianna, she shakes her head. "Nay... nay, there's... wh- what? How? What 'appened, Cearnaigh?!"

Cearnaigh looks around. He steps away from Caoimhe, a pace, and eyes the crew. "Can't say it all here," he says. "You got anywhere we can go?"
Compass overhears, and blinks. "Down those stairs. Pick a room and I'll follow you."
Cearnaigh's gaze shifts fiercely onto Compass. "An' why do ye have t'do that, as it is?"
Compass remains resilient. "Because I am also captain of this ship. And whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of me. Beryl, hold the ship. Cearnaigh, if your crew set a talon or paw on this ship while we're down there, I will not hold back any of the weapons we have." They don't actually HAVE much more than what's in Caoi's feathers... but who needs to know that? Cearnaigh nods. He signals something in Griffige to his crew, who relax slightly. And then he trots below deck.

Caoimhe looks very suspicious, but puts her knives away and follows Cearnaigh belowdecks. They end up in the galley, and Caoimhe shoos Corundum out before locking the door. She glares at her brother and nods at one of the tables. "Sit. An' tell me why yer spittin' on me deck, puttin' yer talons round my throat, an' threatenin' me crew. Far's I know, nothin' ye said were my fault, as it is, so if ye wanna make it off this boat in one piece, you'd better tell me what th' hells 's goin' on."

Cearnaigh sits down, his stoic impression intact. "When ye left," he says, "things changed. There was fightin', in the streets. An' suddenly the Legion started givin' us curfews. An' then the food started runnin' out, an' I had to go without meals to keep the others fed." He sighs, pressing his face into his talons. "None o'that were yer fault. But..." The talons drop back down, revealing the piercing red gaze once more. "One day we got officials turnin' up at our door, askin' for ye. We said aye, we were ye family, as it is, but... they told us ye were..." Cearnaigh stalls. Compass eyes him from the edge of the room, and when he fails to finish his sentence she mutters, "Spit it out." A short pause, and then, "They gave us a warrant. Fer yer arrest."

Caoimhe remains standing, staring at her brother and listening carefully. "What th' 'ells were th' warrant for? I ne'er broke a law!" she says angrily, starting to pace slowly back and forth. "What was happenin'? Why? Why curfews? Why fightin'? An' the food... why were't ye givin' up food? What were ma and pa doing?"

Cearnaigh attempts to gather himself through the barrage of questions. He narrows his eyes. "Never broke a law? Ye were down for treason 'gainst the Legion, Caoimhe. No bigger law n'that, I reckon." Compass lifts her ears. If Caoi was to look over at her she might notice that some of the colour has drained from her face. "They took us away," continues Cearnaigh. "Took us to a Legion camp. Told us we were traitors. Ma and pa had their land taken. Our whole kin is in prison, because of you." Cearnaigh seems determined not to break his steely gaze.

Caoimhe slams a forefoot on the table. "Ní raibh mé a dhéanamh ar aon cheann de na rudaí is labhraíonn tú de! Conas leomh leat cúisigh dom de na coireanna!" ["I did not do any of the things you speak of! How dare you accuse me of these crimes!"] she yells at him, "Tá mé mo páipéir le scaoileadh onórach i mo cábáin, leathcheann tú. Whoever dúirt tú go tiomanta mé go bhfuil tréas ag imirt agat as amadán!" [“I have my honorable discharge papers in my cabin, you idiot. Whoever told you that I committed treason is playing you for a fool!"] She's wided-eyed and looking furious at this point. "Cheapann tú ba mhaith liom a ligean seo tarlú leis an teaghlach dá mbeadh a fhios agam? Cheapann tú Ba mhaith liom teacht ar ais go dtí an Ríocht má bhí mé a bheidh ciontach i dtréas do? Cé chomh dúr bhfuil tú?" ["You think I would let this happen to the family if I knew? You think I would come back to the Kingdom if I was guilty of treason? How stupid are you?"] She's trembling at this point, and is in his face, her beak perhaps an inch away from his.

At this point, Compass has rushed around and pulled Caoimhe away, a firm grip on her shoulders to keep her from exploding in her brother's face. When the tirade is over, Compass calmly addresses Cearnaigh. "This must be some kind of mistake," she says. "Caoimhe has done nothing wrong. The Legion was good to her. Why should we believe what you're saying?"

Cearnaigh holds still, barely blinking despite his sister's rage. "Y're quick to blame this all on me," he replies gruffly. "I know only what I've been told. But the Legion as ye knew it is not the Legion I saw. Since ye went we had to be careful, all the time. Where we went was watched. What we said was watched. Who we knew, where we worked." He pauses, looking for the words. "Martial law. Though we couldn't say it was that, or..."

Caoimhe makes an unhappy growl when she's pulled away, but it's not directed at Compass. "I'm not blamin it on ye, Cearnaigh, that's th' point! I'm not t'be blamed either! We need t'find out who is, an' we need t'fix this." She's breathing heavily through her nares, her tail is dead-still, and she's very tense. A wrong move will mean violence, and it's obvious. "Where? Where's th' prison?"

Cearnaigh shakes his head. "Ye can't get to it," he says firmly. "They have enough patrols t'last a lifetime." He stands up, pulling his cloak further around his chest. "But I knew this. I got out of the camp - the bastards thought they could make me work for them. So I took what I could and I ran. ... Blood was shed." He pauses for a moment, his gaze falling to the floor. "An' ever since I've been on their hitlist, of course. But that's part of my plan. I got a ship, a crew. ... You'd be a very advantageous ally, Caoimhe."

"An ally?!" Caoimhe scoffs, "A minute ago ye were threatenin' me an blamin' all this on me, now yer wantin' t'be allies?!" Her talons dig into the wood of the table. "Blood was shed? Patrols?" She stares at him long and hard, silent for a few heavy moments. "Ye know what I did in th' Legion, brother? I were in REDS. Reconnaissance, Elimination, and Disruption Squadron. Gettin' past patrols an' sheddin' blood's what I do." She seems to forget that isn't her job any more. "I'll carve through e'ery Legionnaire there is, if I must, so tell me WHERE ME KIN ARE!" Caoimhe seems about ready to try and take on the Kingdom herself.

"Standin' in front of ye!" shouts Cearnaigh, standing up so he's taller than his sister once more. "The reason I blamed this on ye was because I thought ye WERE t'blame. I had no reason t'think ye weren't, with no word from ye." He shakes his head. "I know where they are. But ye cannot, cannot do this without me. Without my crew." His gaze locks to his sister's once more. "We're the Blackriver Flag. The rebellion."

Caoimhe stares long and hard at him, and is trying very very hard to not kill him. Why? Because right now, in her mind's eye, he's in between her and her goal. "What... is yer plan?" she asks tensely, beak clenched. "An' how th' hells am I s'posed t'elp ye if I don' know where th' damn prison is?" All her instincts (training?) are telling her to kill something right now. That's what you're supposed to do when you get this kind of adrenaline rush, right?

Cearnaigh takes in a deep breath. His sister always had a temper. But right now it's directed at him, plus about three years' worth of military training and experience sticking knives into griffons. "I'll take ye there," he says. "But ye'll need griffon power. I've been building Blackriver ever since I got out, an' we've been waitin' for the perfect time." Cearnaigh's voice drops, and he looks at his sister intensely. "They're all still there. And Sianna... she is out there. I know it." A pause of thick, heavy silence falls on the room like gathered snow off a rooftop, sliding to the floor with a thud. And then, once it melts away, Cearnaigh adds, "Forgive me, Caoimhe."

Caoimhe stares at him long and hard. "Go. Back to your ship, Caenaigh. I have t'talk t' Compass an' me crew. If I decide t'trust ye, I'll come wit' ye. An' if Compass an' the rest of th' crew are willin', th' Andraste will come along. If not, ye jes get me. E'er way, I need t'think on this. Git off me ship an' wait fer me word. Fergiveness'll come when ye earn it."