11/24 A Meeting of Malignant Minds

Of course, the usual treatment one receives once they enter the Docro manor befalls Amelia and Maertock. Countless, expensive drinks; splendiferous snacks... boasting nobility.

The Don grasps an Izhuran glass, filled to the brim with his own brand of whiskey. Subsequently, he finds himself comfortable, adjusting to the rubicund chair.

A closed fist connects to the apex of his chin.

"So. I believe you should begin, Captain Reave." his imperious voice is directed to the pirate.
(Luca pyr Docro)
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As the tallest of the trio, the Captain was not afraid to take advantage of the view, oogling the countless vintages of inebriation and cuisine that was rather befitting of criminal masterminds such as themselves. Luxury was as much as show of power as anything at the end of the day.

The captain's apparel was not dissimilar in its presentation. Ashen arcanium plate and black silks adorned the shark's frame; the ever present trail of inky shadows that manifested his sifting cloak of darkness. Smaller than his brother by a foot and change, but something about him seemed...sturdier. More sinewed than bulky.

"Greetings and salutations Don Docro. A pleasure to at last formally make your acquaintance, I have heard of you naturally from my older brother's exploits."

The captain would nod fondly but sadly at that, placing a fresh cigar in his rows of serrated teeth as he snapped his finger, a black flame rising to ignite it as minty smoke began to trail from his dry, reddened gills.

"I suppose the best place to start is right in the middle of it, we are businessmen after all. What do you want out of Esshar, my well dressed acquaintance?"
(Maertock Reave)
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 Not one to be a stranger to the Docro manor herself, Amelia shifted and treaded the hallowed halls with much ease and comfort.

Her form finds ease in inching deeper into the chair. Though she herself does not partake in any physical vices, she does not seem bothered from the two's luxury of choice. She merely opts for being present.

She does not speak, yet a clipboard upon her fingers signify her somewhat secretariat position in the trio. Being the one to set this meeting up herself was likely a clear sign already.

There was much to discuss and much to obtain from this on both parties.
(Amelia Locke pyr Aertas)
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 A cold-hearted gangster boss, one perchance known for his unfathomable greed.

A seven foot tall pirate, bearing sturdy poses, remarkable for being the Captain of the Deep Company.

And... Amelia. She's no criminal, contrasting at the other side of the table.

Nevertheless, the Docro's voice reverberates through the ambit, suited men carefully watching.

"I want the complete destruction of the Moxtli tribes. I want Duniya Vartuul dead, the Garjling's Coat razed. Maertock, it would be easier to ask what I do not want." a grin completes the statement, halting his unemotional countenance.

"Anyway. I belive you were present when I made a deal with Murtock." exchanging subjects, he's direct to business.

"The Deep Company would stay away from a possible conflict of Osrona and Achyon versus the Moxtli and the Fireblooded, and they would join the winning side. You have witnessed the defeat of the fetid dragons and irrational tribesmen. Ipsis litteris, Murtock said the one with success would be the profitable side."

Another pause, as Luca ignites a cigarette with petite sparkles of explosion magic, subsequently exhaling smoke.

"So. Is this deal still in evidence, post mortem?"
(Luca pyr Docro)
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 Maertock would cross one of his long, muscular legs over the other as he continued to puff at his cigar. Icy blue shark's eyes scanning over the fellow predator across from him almost as if in survey. His nod of affirmation following appeared to be one of certainty.

It was important to understand one peers in a particular vein of business.

"Once upon a time, I might have told you the Moxtli and the Fireblooded were our firm allies, and that you'd be facing us as well if you desired a fight. But that was a twenty something fool who was still playing a child's game of this savage land. Being thirty has a way of putting things in perspective."

The captain would nod firmly.

"A Moxtli whore killed my brother. And not a day later they were marching on my beach asking for her body and stirring trouble. Reminded me friendship is what one calls...fluid in savage lands. I ain't much a fan of them now to be quite honest."

The captain would gesture with his hand.

"Besides, with my necromantic studies, breaking bonds with'm would'a been inevitable. Ripping the bandaid off sure as hell was made easier by their muddling business though."

Another puff from the cigar.

"And frankly I ain't give a damn and a half about Duniya Vartuul. Blood feuds ain't never been my business, messy sort that they oft is."

Maertock would flash a serrated smile at that.

"So yes, that deal is still on the table. The question is, should that be where the deal ends my acquaintance. Cause I got lotsa plans, and my boys might very well be the only killers on this continent who ain't interested in land. Makes us...convenient friends. Terrible enemies."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Though her silence was prevalent in the first half, her swift transcription and notetaking was something to be feared. Word-per-word, she would be keen on providing detailed accounts of whatever may occur in this dealmaking. Perhaps this skill was something the Don would remember from the Aertas' time in the council.

"Thus, comes the proposition," she blurts, providing a segway into the aforementioned deal. "They seek Achyonian aid in artificing and mechanics," she announces, mostly for Luca's own knowledge.

"I was approached about projects and I believe we hold similar... disdains. I have reason to believe that this project might be the opportune topic for this business of friendliness between our two factions." Of course, she was not one to explain it herself. After all, she was merely the bridge that can make it happen. The idea itself stemmed from the Captain's own mind space.
(Amelia Locke pyr Aertas)
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"Yes, and I believe it was the main subject of this meeting. To make it official. Under this bias, may you explain more, Maertock? I can write a document."

Digits grasp a feather, brandishing perfect handwriting whilst listening to the pirate.
(Luca pyr Docro)
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Maertock would take a long, considerate drag from his minty cigar as he mulled upon the matters at hand, the Captain of the Deep Company considering for a time how much had changed since his youth upon Siren Beach. Eighteen, foolish and fearless. Felt like another life ago in truth.

"Indeed, to a foremost conclusion, the Deep Company has stayed out of most folks business for a long time. Now, neutrality is a sin, so we've done our best to rob freely lest folk think we're too friendly. Problem is, make too many friends, ya run out of folk to rob. And if you don't make enough enemies, it's the same issue."

The Captain would nod firmly at that, humming to himself in contemplation.

"I'll put it plainly Don Docro. I've got plans. I wanna stir shit up, wake unthinkable horrors from the abyssal depths. Now, dear Amelia and I already reckoned a plan to turn one of the biggest, oldest krakens out there into a living fortress. One that can descend to the oceans depths and besiege a port alike with countless armaments. A living siege all by itself. Powered by a chiron gem I happened to get my hands on."

Maertock would flash a serrated smile.

"Your enemies can become my enemies in a more formal alliance in exchange for such technological aid as Amelia intends to provide. We are rich in all other resources in that regard. Means we can start robbin' folk we were otherwise not robbin' with more distinction."

The Captain would nod steadily once more.

"Fact of the matter is, business that we're both in, we've got more alike than the rest of the continent. Could be that could keep on keepin' on."
(Maertock Reave)
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 The countenance of the Aertas remains firm and indifferent. A professional aura always beaming outward from her juxtaposition as her hands continue to jot notes down.

"The details are still foggy as I have postponed any specific planning until this talk would be accomplished." Of course, her services remains with the Empire. Whatever the outcome of here will be the outcome the Aertas would so happily follow.

"But I have a general idea of the plans itself," she explains. At least on the logistical end of the spectrum, Amelia was the one who seemed to be the one potentially taking charge of it. "An aquatic warmachine is what it is. Something they deem my expertise can be of aid to."

What with her own grandfather being the author of plentiful of dangerous machinations of war, the Aertas seemed more than capable of creating such a thing.
(Amelia Locke pyr Aertas)
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Luca's usually not fond of technical details. A man behind orders, economy and diplomacy, but not one to understand machinations. The mere notion of 'benefit' is enough for the white-haired Docro.

His hands continue crafting the paper, periodically eyeing the present once their voices are heard.

"Achyon's interested in that project. Summarizing the terms; we'll work on that, cease aggressive intent between our groups and make official the Deep Company's campaign against the Fireblooded and the Moxtli."

Resting the feather for a brief moment, the jade hues scan Maertock, analyzing, as fume permeates the room. Sipping from the woodened drink, he waits for confirmation.
(Luca pyr Docro)
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 Maertock would hum steadily before nodding firmly, cracking his knuckles as his accursed, necromantic blade of the dull and outdated variety clanking ambiently by his side. A flash of his rows of serrated teeth made apparent with certainty that he did not appear displeased by the proposal in the slightest.

"It IS about time that we got back at them folk for taking Luna's corpse. Been a sore spot unreckoned for a soft minute I'd say. Under those terms with the assumption that project grows through, and ours as of a mutual aggression towards headaches, an alliance of criminal endeavors narcotic, martial, and otherwise suitable for the sake of progress."

The captain would dredge his clawed hands into the depths of the inky shadows that made up his being, nodding softly with a flash of serrated teeth as he tipped his black hat to Don Docro.

"That is, assumin' my crew is allowed to come here freely, and if those star suckin' moralizers in Osrona try to stir trouble with us while we're doing dirty business, you'd intercede. Unless, of course, that is a sore spot."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Of course, once the prospect of politics does rear its head back in, Amelia would recede. She was not one who bore significant opinions about alliances and faction management.

If anything, she merely continued transcribing. Doing her job in making sure that nothing goes undocumented.
(Amelia Locke pyr Aertas)
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 Luca pyr Docro says, "...it is a sore spot, yes. I'd prefer if we don't mention Osrona. You keep doing... your thing, and we keep doing ours, regarding them."
 Luca pyr Docro says, "Nevertheless, I'd also prefer if you focus your efforts on the Moxtli and the Fireblooded, at least for the next few years."
 Maertock Reave says, "Seems a reasonable enough understanding."
 Maertock Reave says, "A proof of our mutual efforts. More than enough for a good time in my book."
 Maertock Reave says, "I'll go look for some fights myself. I'm rather rusty, as is my blade. Cursed as it is, it's still rather unimpressive."
 Maertock Reave says, "One day, it will have teeth."
 Maertock Reave says, "I agree personally. The less we speak of them. the better."
 Maertock Reave says, "There are far shinier endeavors ahead. "
 Once the document is finished, the Godfather's hand slides it towards the siren.

"Let me know if you want anything changed. This is not official, since it will have to pass through our legislative system... but the council will accept it, do not worry."

https://pdfhost.io/v/OsjPFGVNX_Maertockpdf.pdf
(Luca pyr Docro)
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Maertock would click his rows of serrated teeth together with a hum as he rose from his seat, the towering sharkman a certain sight of sinew and flowing shadows. He would remove his clawed fingers from the depths of the ambient, black ink that made up his being, removing a bottle of brandy before popping the cork with a single jab and flick of his thumb before nodding.

"These terms are more than agreeable for an introductory set of relations both official and otherwise. Such is a steady process, and why I remain upon the sea in my sovereign territory in truth. Folks jus'....disappear out there. Foggy nights claim souls."

The captain would nod firmly at that, raising his bottle in cheer with a firm nod.

"To Fortuna. Mutual profit and gain in the coming, uncertain years of Essharan order. Oh no, here I go reavin' again."

A black hearted cackle would emanate from the form of the towering rogue in ambient cheer.
(Maertock Reave)
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 In unison to the man, his own cup ascends, directed towards Maertock. A toast, before the Don chuggs the entirety of his whiskey.

A proficient drinker, as always.

"Very well. I will work on passing that over the council as soon as possible."
(Luca pyr Docro)
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Maertock Reave says, "Good man. "
 Maertock Reave says, "Time is precious in our business, I will not take anymore of yours."
 Maertock Reave says, "Enjoy the rest of your evening, to good tidings my friend."
 Maertock would tip his hat to the councilman of well dressed and high standing, dissipating into shadows as he departed from the manor. It had been a very productive chat.
(Maertock Reave)