Cynthia nodded, listening to her tale. As she did she remembered her old days. At one point she was a stowaway who ended up on a smuggling ship to East India and at another she was picking locks for pirates and keeping some of their treasure for herself. She snapped out of her reverie at the word "Featherlight". "Featherlight? So you have a special sort of weapon you carry around?"

"Of course I do!" she replied, as she stood up a moment. Brushing aside her jacket, she revealed there was a rapier attached to her belt in its scabbard. "I'd show ya, but folks don't take too kindly to people waving around weapons in a bar," she explained. "Maybe if we can get drunk enough, I'll have an excuse though!" she joked, sitting back down.

"Featherlight and I have been togetehr since the very beginning, he was passed on down to me form my Father you see. Dad was a pirate too, so of course I wanted to follow behind him. Heh... proved to folks I could too!" she added. "How about you? Any special weapons? What do you specialize in?"

Cynthia's eyes lit up when she saw Pierce's rapier. It seemed to be taken care of very well. "Yeah, but I'd need some more shots before that happens." She thought about what was passed down from her family. Not really much I suppose. Only some weird mutation and a legacy of making knock-off stuff. She looked up to answer Pierce's question.

"I do. My family's had this trend where every other generation's first born gets eyes that can see in the dark and see in great detail. That's why I was nicknamed "Cat's Eye Cynthia" when I was on the boat. I fooled them into thinking that I was a psychic by predicting what they were going to do in battle. Really it was just picking up their habits and making guesses." She paused to take a sip of rum before continuing. "I think got crows feet from all that squinting though. It's not much, but I'm capable of using a blade like you, but maybe a bit thicker and in shooting."

"Shootin' eh? Yeah, I bet with an ability like that you would be!" Pierce replied with a chuckle. "Still, sounds like quite the useful ability to have." She grinned then.

"I noted ya like ol' Featherlight here. I stink at a broadsword but this rapier and I can slice through a monster quicker than a hurricane!" She blushed then. She paused a moment, as if pondering soemthing.

"My eye here," she commented, pointing up to the one covered by a blindfold, "Is cursed. It sees magical happenings, things I'd rather not know and the life," she replied with a shrug. "Tis what you get for swearing against Davy Jones though," she added. As a youth, she remembered quite clearly THAT folly!Needless to say the mistake was never repeated!

"Hmmm... you know I do hope that it is known how to make a Dutch 47 around here... that drink is still quite new..."

Cynthia gave a chuckle back and took another sip of her drink. It was already half empty. It was a shame since she'd have to buy another cup. She looked back at Pierce before answering. "Yeah, she's a beauty. I always wondered what it was like with a thinner sword." I also wondered what it was like to be good with a rapier too. She looked towards Pierce's blindfolded eye and chuckled at her remark. "I see what you mean. Davy Jones is sure one to hold grudges." She pondered again on what a Dutch 47 was. She had her guesses, but it seemed no one else would. "What's that anyway? I mean seeing as it's still new."

"Well, one merely has to be a LOT quicker with their attacks is all," Pierce replied. "With rapiers, you dart in and out quickly, it is made for agility and precision. When you strike, you strike at the place it will hurt the most," she added. "A rapier can get in about three to five hits to a broadsword's one... but they had best be accurate since they do not inflict nearly as much damage. It is a tricky weapon to sue I shall admit!" She added with a laugh.

"Oh yes, terribly so! I am lucky it is only my eye he cursed really!" she added, laughing herself. "I'd offer to show it to you, but it tends to freak most people out you see," she added. Which said a lot considering the girl had a feathery tail and feather tufted ears too. When asked what a Dutch 47 was she grinned.

"Basically you take whatever sort of wines you have and throw them all in together. It gets its name for this wine rack, which held 47 types of wine. It is sort of a mystery how it comes out, but always quite the interesting experience!"

"Yeah, I wasn't always so good with speed. I always tried to use my sword to only make a small amount of hits in vital areas. I personally believe that bigger swords get wider wounds." Cynthia chuckled. "Well that eye can't possibly freak me out anymore than those without even an eye. I've ran into people who have bled from their eye socket. It was not pretty lemme tell you." She downed the rest of her rum and got out the miniature wooden boat with her fingers. She was going to keep that as a souvenir. She raised an eyebrow when she heard what the Dutch 47 was. "Sounds pretty interesting, especially if it's going to be any sort of wine. I guess you can't say "tried one and you've tried them all" in this case"

"They certainly do that!" Pierce replied. "But then, every weapon can be effective if only wielded by an effective fighter," she added, giving a light wink of her good eye.

"Ick... never is," the retired captain replied. "I've had to inflict a wound or so like that myself to particularly aggressive combatants," she replied. "Never a pretty sight indeed." So messy... who knew such a small part of a person could create that sort of mess? She tried to avoid those sort of situations, but at times it could not be helped.

She laughed. "No, certainly not! Well, if it is not this than I usually just go for a very strong ale," she added. "Most alcohol doesn't have much of an effect on me though," she admitted with a light grin.

Cynthia nodded in agreement. She knew that the fighter had more to do than the weapon, but a good weapon never does anyone harm. She continued listening to Pierce talk about her exploits. "Yes, i agree. I've had some sticky situations myself. I mean who knew that sirens could be so stubborn. I mean the whole practically had clung to life."

She wondered if she could stop thinking of her old crew. Something always seemed to remind her of them. Especially her cutlass which had a square almost key-like hilt and everyone's initials carved into the blade. She snapped out of her thoughts after hearing Pierce's voice. "Haha, well being on a pirate ship does that to you. If it's not alcohol, it's something like alcohol."
((gtg now. bye))

Pierce laughed at this. "Oh yes, quite stubborn lot indeed..." she mused. "My mother lead a group of those crazies and I swear, they were a few bottles short of a good buzz!" Of course, this was a mild way of putting this. She glanced a moment to the tail swishing behind her, a remnant of that crazy mother. A mother who had been a pure siren.

"Quite true, quite true. My men and I would drink to celebrate, and there was always cause for celebration!" she joked. "Why I am fairly certain tehre was one time where we drank because of someone's fart..." She sighed softly.

"Interesting lot they were really..." she said, her mind drifting into thought as it tended to do.

((Take care! *Wavies*))

Cynthia grinned. "Good so I'm not the only one that thinks this." Their run it with those sirens had caused the ship to have a new set of scars and a new paint job as well. Ah, pirating stories nothing better. "Drinking because someone farted? Well that's not too bad. I think we drank because someone won a drinking contest, but we were too drunk to care apparently."

"From what you told me I guess they were." She stared into her empty glass and cupped the wooden boat in her pocket. So many things to remind her of her old crew. All she needed was for a boat to arrive with an X shaped slash mark and dripping. Then she'd be all set.

Pierce laughed at this, quite amused to say the least. "Wow, it is a miracle that bar did not run out of ale!" she commented. Indeed, she enjoyed good pirate stories best of all as well.

"So," she said, looking towards her drinking companion. "Did you have any feuds out on the seas that stood out? Any victories that would make the old shark himself proud?" she asked. She loved a good battle story most of all!

"Yeah, that's how we lost a bit of our treasure." Cynthia nodded and put her elbow to the table. "Feuds on the sea? Well we did have a run in with the Krakken one time. A mighty big beast that one. Not only did have a bunch of tentacles, but teeth sharper than most swords. I tell you we barely got out of the fight. It lasted what seemed like hours, with nothing, but hacking and slashing to try and kill this thing. It all started on a dreary morning....

"Man the sails boys, it's going to be a rough haul." The captain was directing the crew, as the swells of gray colored water only got angrier. The main navigator came up to him. "So, are we still going to head to India. It's rumored that this be a cursed sea." The captain took a glance at his compass. It was frozen up until now, where it was spinning like crazy. "Aye, we are going there no matter what." Cynthia had just come up on deck to report that the treasure room had been secured. Unfortunately, the ship tilted and almost capsized. A tentacle had shot out of the water.

"Oh snap, did that crawl out of Davy Jones's locker!" That was a question that went unanswered as some of the crew members grabbed their swords in an attempt to fight them off. This was in vain as every time a tentacle was cut off another would appear in it's place. Crew members were sweaty and bloody from the extensive fighting, Cynthia was no exception. She ran around making giant slash marks where ever she could.

She felt like collapsing in exhaustion, but the krakken had finally shown itself and slashed the ship, which seemed to mark it's victory. What it didn't count on was the captain who had been directing the crew members, but not fighting. He stood up from where he was sitting and took out a gun and several bombs. Cynthia and the crew nodded, know what to do. The crew had started to distract the krakken as Cynthia was inside the rest of the armory of the ship and opened the chest. It contained thousands of explosives and firecrackers and next to it was a barrel of gunpowder. One of the crew members, Gerald had come and rolled out the gun powder, onto the deck. Cynthia grabbed as many explosives as possible. It was time to end this.

The crew stopped and and grabbed explosives from Cynthia's arms and threw them at the krakken. Cynthia and the captain loaded their guns and shot most of them, lighting the sky with flames. The krakken seemed to still have a bit of fight in it, and scratched the boat before falling back into the ocean.

"After that we all fell down and slept on the deck that night. In the morning we had a breakfast of fish, alcohol, and "octopus". She sighed finally finishing her tale. "So Pierce, do you have any tales of excitement?"

Lo'qe, who had been slowly scanning the racks of beverages, for something that intoned it could be Dutch 47. She knew the drink well enough.
It had been the staple drink of Cpt Willow. But he had always eluded to how it was made, and so she was glad to hear the answer.

As she went about selecting the apropriate bottles, and adding some into the large casket infront of her, she listened to the chatter with intrest.

"Here you go." Lo'qe pushed the drink towards Pierce. This time a rather depressed octopus had been picked to float on top, with one of it's tentacles holding the rim.
"You must have drank many different varieties, but i hope this isn't to bad."

"Thanks," Pierce said to Lo'qe, then grinned a slight. "Hey, I'm just impressed you could make it," she replied with a light wink. She grinned with amusement at the octopus, before starting in on her drink.

"It's quite a fine drink indeed," she replied, before pausing to think. "Which story to tell... which story to tell. Ah, I think I know the perfect one."

"Our mission is simple boys," Captain Pierce told her crew, leaning against the mast. "We are going after the sirens to avenge our lost comrades!" The men cheered at this, although one or two of the newer recruits looked doubtful.

"But Captain! The sirens will-" Pierce smiled a slight, tossing out makeshift earplugs towards her crew.

"Not if you were these my boys, which is why we must make what we're doing known right off the bat!" It wasn't look before the crew was prepared, and the ship, known as Ellevan's Dirge, started off towards the Siren's island.A place where they had lost a good ten men. This time however, as the music played, the men were immune. She led the crew right onto the very island itself, instead of letting the sirens come to them. There was bloody conflict everyone! Weapon to claw, hand to hand, until finally the sirens withdrew with the remnants of their lot.

"And we were never bothered again by them after that," Pierce added, grinning a slight. "Bloody heathens knew their place with my crew from that day forward!"

Cynthia smirked at the tentacle in Pierce's drink, it was fitting for the story just told. She listened in on Pierce's story about her and the sirens. She nodded, it was a truly good story indeed. "Haha, what a great story. It's a shame that we can't go sailing around now." She sighed. It was coming apparent that she needed her crew, whether or not they needed her.

"Indeed..." Pierce replied, sighing a slight herself as she took another sip from her drink. "But to do as such one needs a crew and a ship," she added, shaking her head sadly.

"Myself, I thought one could retire and relax back with their wealth. But heh... the sea continues to call ya," she added. "The sad but hard truth. "I swear, these days if a ship came up I'd almost gladly jump aboard and offer my services. Ever get that feeling?" she asked, leaning against the counter.

"I know i do, that's for sure. Although i'm not sure what use i'd be in the way of services."
Said Lo'qe, pondering on this as she poured some more Kelp Wine into her casket.