Tressa didn't voice an opinion, but quietly sliced up the rosemary loaves she'd brought, setting them near the drake meat. She didn't like the idea of more fighting, but how was she ever going to overcome her fears and inabilities if she always just avoided the problem?

She kept a wary eye on Feathers at the mention of trees, looking even more nervous as Matthew suggested Feathers wouldn't mind. She'd mentioned confusion at his clothing, nothing more, and he'd lost it, so in her view, he was a hair trigger problem. Maybe he'd get used to them, but all the same she found herself scooching towards Fer.

Feathers, having listened to the scary man's spiel, found himself thinking if all time he'd spent in the forest. "I don't understand." He said, " the last one? No, my family is every where, and the Oak Tree watches over us all." He continued munching on the fruit he had brought with him, grimacing at the strange meat as he curled up against Nikki.

His body went rigid upon the scary one's touch. Moss began to collect in the corners of the room, but after a moment, he remembered he was with Nikki, and she wouldn't let the scary one do anything to harm him. He decided to try and be the man's friend, so he cautiously held up a piece of melon.

((omg that's adorable XD))

[._. Thankyou]

Rous reached across the table, taking the melon chunk from Feathers. [I]"Sugar melon. You have to tell me where Tressa is hiding this, it's my favorite!"[/i] He grabbed a spoon and scooped the meat of the fruit from the rind, tossing the rind out the window before popping the piece in his mouth. He began his story.

[I]"Now, it isn't unheard of to be as old as Wyrn and I. I don't tell people this, so you guys are special. (He wiped his hands on a napkin before continuing.) I'm 427 years old. Wyrn here is 438. There's a handful of folks like us running around out there somewhere just as old. The reason why we're so old is special. We aren't folks of a slow aging race, but something else."[/i]

He got up, popping his fingers and pacig around the room again, hands behind his back. He walked over to a bowl looking piece of metal. It was wide, but too shallow to hold food. He picked it up, spinning it in his hands as he walked to the table. He put some of the plates and candles aside, setting the bowl in the middle. He cast Wyrn a sidelong glance, before holding his hands over the bowl.

Over the bowl appeared what looked to be a few embers of maroon flame, they floated about lazily for a second, before swirling around. There was a small WOOSH![/I] as a Maroon flame sprung to life. The fire in the fireplace and on the candles suddenly seemed to freeze in place, Rous backed away and resumed pacing.

[I]"You all know what the Father Flame is, correct? The source of pyromancy? Created the world by burning it, and life sprung from the ashes? Well..." He gestured to the flame with an open hand. [I]"You're looking at it. Centuries ago, there was a king. A king of the only nation of pyromancers. This King wanted to dominate the world using the Father Flame. When he tried to pull the flame in it's entirety into him, it consumed his mind, and he, effectively, destroyed it. He blew up his kingdom and all in it, and the flame broke into pieces, the pieces binding to the souls of people who witnessed the destruction of the kingdom, but they never knew. Unknowingly, they passed the flame down to their descendants as time passed on."[/i]

He reached into a cabinet, pulling bottles of wine out and inspecting them, before settling on one. He pulled thebcork with his teeth, and poured him a glass, setting the bottle down. The Father Flame danced lazily, casting shadows on the table.

[I]"I was about 23 or 24 when I heard this tale, and, convinced that we were to find it, set out on a quest. What I didn't know was that each person I was told to slay was a descendant of the original few. And, with each of their deaths, a little bit of the Father Flame recollected back in it's original place. The place I went to the past few days, that castle up on the mountain. When we got there, we were betrayed by the mad King himself, Wyrn and I and the others. After his death, the Father Flame once again needed to bind to someone, as vessels, as ever burning torches. As long as we are all alive, the Father Flame burns. But, if we all die at the same time, the flame will burn out. 'But wait!' You say, 'You're over 400 years old! You can still die?' The answer is yes, but not permanently. If the others are still alive when we pass on, depending on the severity of the wounds when we die, we come back some days, months, years later."[/i] He gulped the wine down.

[B]"You have died, comrade?"[/b] Wyrn chimed in, and Rous nodded, holding up his hand, all fingers outstretched.

[I]"Five times. And every time we die, we age a bit. That's why I don't look as young as when you last saw me." The Father Flame is a wondrous thing. It isn't sentient, but it is knowledge. It isn't good, but evil shrinks away from it. It isn't evil, but evil men have down terrible things with it. It is a tool, and it doesn't care what you do with it. That's it. Only you, sitting in this room, know this. The last person I told was executed, for being a 'witch' in a magically oppressed kingdom. The same folks who put that wrap on the young tree singer's face. She was my wife. So I burnt that kingdom to the ground, and all in it. One example of the Flame being a tool. There it is. Our story. Any questions?" [/i]

Avery's lips twitched into a small smile as Feathers offered up a piece of fruit to the captain. Glad the boy wasn't upset about the tree comment. As the captain began talking she relaxed against the cabin's wall, raising her eyebrows in surprise as he shared how old he was. The fire trick made her nervous however, she didn't like regular flames in the room to behave abnormally. The doctor nodded her head in confirmation she knew about the Father Flame, at least in a vague way. As his story was given she wondered about if her gift had any type of history to go with it. She had never heard of a powerful water mage, but that didn't mean much.

The method of obtaining the power Rous spoke of made Avery uncomfortable, killing was not her thing. Her visibly tensed as he mentioned how he'd destroyed a kingdom because they had killed his wife. Part of her understood the power of grief but the other part of her wanted to shout at him for murdering so many people, they had had families and lives as well. Wrapping Feathers' face wasn't a kind thing to do either, but killing people was hardly ever the best decision. Forcing herself to relax slightly Avery leaned her head against the wall, "No questions yet, Captain." she said, her voice slightly clipped. Trying to keep herself from getting in trouble was sometimes difficult.

Both Jack and Fer sat back a bit relaxed where they sat once all were assembled and the Captain started into his story. Jacks eyes glimmered with a bit of curiosity and fascination listening to speak. Fer smirked a bit outstretching his arm to get more "comfortable" and rested it on the chair back of the seat Tressa was in.

Things were no longer really coming as a surprise, just made Jack's curiosity grow, it showed in her eyes as she stared intently at the glowing maroon flame. Though it was all starting to make sense. Some reason the draw of his age seemed to go well with his fearlessness. He's probably seen almost all of it, she liked that.

Very familiar with the tail of the Father Flame, Fer nodded. It was one of those things he scoffed that it wasn't true, but just held his knowledge close to him. Though this much was new to him that Rous and Wyrn were that closely tied to it. His eyes continued to follow the pacing Captian.

Hearing the loss of his wife made Jack also sort of understand where his passion came from, was it all for her? "So then are you the only two of the handful who's on this ship?" Fer asked. "And why choose now to tell us?" Jack found herself asking.

Their captain was immortal. Okay, sure, why not. There was a tree kid here, and Tressa had actually managed to leave her little tavern and go on an adventure, even if it was still sort of just beginning, and while she had heard a lot of stories from her tavern, she'd always assumed a lot were total bunk. Clearly she didn't know how to tell a yarn from two immortals in the same room with her.

She didn't mind Fer's arm - she almost (almost) hadn't noticed it. She had leaned forward slightly with the story's drawing her in, but straightened as Jack and Fer spoke. Questions. Did she have any herself? No, she'd need time to process the information.

Wait, she did have a question. "Does this mean you have long-term enemies that could be a threat now?" she said.

[I]"Enemies? Yes. About as many as a famous privateer could amass over 10 years of being a captain. They all die sooner or later, usually trying to kill me, but nothing too long-term. At least, that I remember anymore."[/i]

He said to Tressa, turning his gaze to Fer. [I]"Yes, we are the only two on the ship. I haven't seen the others for quite some time, maybe once or twice over the past few centuries. As to why I'm telling you..."[/i]

He poured some more wine into his glass, and downed it. He looked to the ceiling, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

[I]"You are brighter than the sailors on my ship, they will all tell you that, no shame. And you won't go run your mouth about what we are to every other sailor in a pub. What's on your mind there, Avery?"[/i] He asked her, his gaze turning to her inquisitively.

Avery blinked up at the captain, "Just not a fan of killing, sir." she replied, her voice still clipped. "I would rather not say more." she added, she didn't feel like it was right to speak to her captain rudely or to judge a decision that had been made many years before. It would be pointless. Everybody had their own way of grieving, some choices were just healthier than others. Killing somebody out of blind rage is what had killed her father. She didn't wish that pain on anybody else.

'At least nobody like him is out to kill him.' She thought, she didn't think it would end well for anybody in the area.

Death was not something the doctor took lightly. It was a part of her job but one she fought hard to prevent. Only in self defense would she willingly take another's life.

[Oh gosh, I hope everyone isn't waiting on me .-. Feel free to skip me, I promise I'll jump in when feathers is ready to react to something. I'll put a little something soon I swear!]

Nikki listened to the story with interest. "Waaaait...how long ago was it you married your wife? 'Cuz I'd think whoever sealed Feathers' face didn't do it all /that/ long ago. I mean...he would have starved, right?" She tilted her head, then shrugged. "It's an interesting story, though." She wouldn't think about the tale much longer, though. Her focus was already shifting to the thought of possibly encountering unfriendly ships. That might be fun. And maybe she'd get to see the new cannon Matthew had acquired in action -- definitely a plus.

[I]"Two hundred, Seventy-four years, Five months and three days it has been since she died. Two hundred, Seventy-four years and one day since I burnt down that kingdom. It just means that their descendants did it, however many there might be. Feathers, if you could tell me where they are, I will make sure they never hurt anyone again."[/i] He said, taking another mouthful of the meat.

Tressa blinked at that. "I mean, clearly they did wrong, but...is it really a good idea to just slaughter anyone who harms another person?" she said, wringing her hands uncomfortably in her skirts. She glanced at either crewmember sitting next to her to gauge whether or not she was totally wrong in her thinking, eyes lingering a moment on Fer.

As much as he wanted to pacify the sages, the mere thought of going back to that awful place froze the boy. He began to tremble with worry and fear, but he looked up to Nikki, and suddenly felt at ease. He was surrounded by strong-looking people, and the captain was now his friend. "I can't speak it, but I could see it to you." He said hesitantly, unable to find the correct words to describe it. "Just like how the Oak Tree does.." He said.

Part of him hoped the captain would refuse. He was scary and big and Feathers' fear of him was not gone. He wiped his hands, setting his empty plate down as he wrapped his arms in an embrace of Nikki's own arm. "Just please don't put me back there." He pleaded.

Avery's face hardened, it was cruel for others to have treated Feathers the way they had, but it was no excuse for genocide. If that was what the captain was really saying. The restraint that she'd been using to keep her opinion and mouth under control broke. "Captain. If you truly wish to murder everybody that could possibly be linked to the person or people who did this to Feathers I am leaving this crew to fend for themselves next time we run into trouble. No healing, nothing. Whoever did this will pay, but killing them with magic will only encourage their fear and hatred of magic." Her tone was as cold as the deep waters of the ocean.

The doctor stood up as she said it, her anger at the suggested killings causing her hold on her magic to slip slightly. Her hands began to glow in swirls of neon yellow and white. Water twirled around her arms in violent swirls, unnoticed by her. "You may be captain, with all of this immense power, but that gives you no right over the lives of a civilization that doesn't know any better than to fear what they don't know. Did you or anybody else give them a chance to learn that it wasn't something to fear? That it wouldn't cause them harm?" She practically hissed at him, her eyes cold and accusing.

Avery didn't care what the Captain did to her at the moment, or if she had the whole story. Death would always be the last option to her. Her body was almost vibrating from her anger that she had trying to contain. It was one thing to talk about killing somebody two hundred years ago, but the future was something that could be changed.

Tressa trembled but also rose. "I agree with Avery. I'm not about to let anyone go hungry under my watch if I can help it but if this is what we stand for, the depression that follows is going to show in the taste of my food no matter how good the ingredients." She glanced at Feathers. "If he's in our protection, he doesn't need them dead to be safe...and as for others that could be harmed, Avery is exactly right."

He laughed. Hard.

[I]"Fear? They didn't /fear/ anything. They thought every other magic besides their own was inferior. They detested it, no, ABHORRED IT. Let me give you a little history lesson. [U]SIT DOWN.[/u]"[/i]

He moved his plate and cup to his desk, then threw the tablecloth back a bit. His finger began to glow, and he started to draw on the wood with it, burn-carving images into the surface.

[I]"There are many different types of magic, but they all fall under broad blanket terms, and those who practice are called different things." [/i]

He drew what looked to be a nature scene, with a cruedly drawn tree, river, rocks and wind. [I]"There's magic that deals with the forces of nature. Plants, (he motioned to Feathers) Water, (Motioned to Avery) Earth, and wind. Those who practice such magic are called Wizards and Witches. So technically, you two are those. My wife was a witch, she could control water, just like you, Avery. You and your practices are very, very rare for a reason."[/i] He reached over, grabbing his glass and sipping from it. He returned to his spot, and began drawing some more.

[I]"Then, there is pure magic."[/I] He drew a wand, a staff, and what looked like a man in a robe, casting a 'glittering ball.

[I]"This is a more common practice, for reasons that I tried to prevent. Destructive or helpful, those are called Mages."[/i] He wrote 'Mage' over the little drawing.

[I]"Then, there is pyromancy. Fire is on it's own in magic. I can stoke an iron forge, warm a cold body, heal broken bodies, harden my own, glass a kingdom, consume another's mind. Pyromancers are what we are called. Once extinct, now we flourish, like Mages. We flourish for one reason."[/i] He wrote 'Pyromancer' over the flame he drew. He looked up at everyone, before starting the last thing.

He drew the outline of a person, with lines coming put from the center.

[I]"Then there are sages. Sages deal with life itself. They can heal, prolong life, even bring some back from the dead. Then there is the other side of it. Tell me, you ever heard of Hexes? Most likely not. While a sage deals with healing, the Sha'tar dealt with hexxing. Hexxing attacks the soul of a being. Destroying it. It is more painful than anything you could ever imagine. I only lived through it because the Father Flame took the brunt of it. It is evil,and the practice of it is a sin against all things living."[/i] He took a bite of his roast, before continuing.

[I]"I learned from an old Sage, far older than all of us combined, and still living, that over 2000 years ago, a council met. A council of the most powerful Magi gathered, and set rules, laws and consequences against Hexes. Anyone caught practicing the dark art would be severely punished. The punishment of attacking the souls of the living was death. And everyone in the world agreed. That is, until the council was forgotten, and the Sha'tar kingdom came to fruition."[/i] He angrily burnt a word in an almost dead language, looked like the writing on Feather's face. Sha'tar is what it said.

[I]"The Sha'tari kingdom was lead by 7 sages, dark sages. They ruled with Hexes, taught Hexes to every man, woman and child within their walls. Taught them that anything that wasn't destructive was weak. Below them. Slave worthy, less than the shite on their boots. They enslaved all who didn't practice the foul magic, killed almost all of them. The Witches, Wizards, and light sages. That's why you two are so rare. Him especially. My wife and I were just passing through, when we were arrested at their gate. I tried talking them out of taking us, I did. I tried to get us out of their prison, I did. But I changed my mind when they burnt her soul in front of my eyes, and tried to burn mine. They were poised to take over the world, kill all who they deemed inferior, until I turned that kingdom into glass. They killed more people than I did. You think I'm an evil being? You want out? There's lifeboats."[/i] He scratched the name of the lost kingdom off the table.

[I]"I'm going to finish what those Magi started. Me. None of you are going to help anyways."[/i] He stood at his window, pulling a pipe from a drawer, he stuffed the bowl angrily, and it lit on it's own.

[I]"Anyone else wanting to question my incentives?"[/i]

Nikki ruffled Feathers' hair when he clung to her. "Nobody's gonna leave you there if you don't wanna be left," she told him. She watched the exchange between Avery, Tessa, and Rous with interest. Wiping out a whole culture did seem pretty extreme, but Rous wasn't a bad person, so he must have had a reason -- or just been really angry about his wife's death. And it seemed the truth fell somewhere in the middle, based on what the Captain said. Maybe he'd gone a bit overboard, but really, who was she to judge?

((Out of curiosity, I take it there's no such thing as a fire wizard?))

The captain's roar made her flinch, but her own temper kept her standing. She didn't like his tone. She remained standing through his lecture, her anger towards him lessening but still there. Despite being the instigator of threats she didn't appreciate his towards her. "You said magically oppressed. I assumed that it was made illegal and shunned. That is my mistake, Captain." Avery responded tightly. Her tongue still unrestrained she continued, "Their behavior is unforgivable, magic does not make one superior to another, but hatred is learned. I don't know the circumstances of a 200 year old story, but how many of them would have left if they were given the chance?"

The woman took a breath, forcing calm through her body, her rant over. Her temper was gone like a thunderstorm. The water splashed to the floor, causing her to jump, she had yet to realize it had been swirling around her arms. The light vanished as if it wasn't there. "Do what you want with me, but the next time you explain mass killings give a better history lesson first. I don't tolerate killing well." she added as she sagged against the cabin's wall. Like any extended use of her magic her tantrum had drained her, similar to canal locks being released downstream to adjust the height of the canal. The other lock would remain shut, dropping the levels quickly but restoring soon after when the other one was opened. It always left her pale and slightly weakened.

The captain's declaration of not wanting/needing any help on his mission didn't sit well with her. It was true he'd bested these people before but that didn't mean he could do it again. There was no telling what these cruel people had learned over the centuries. The rest of the history lesson was something to talk about at a later time, she wondered why pyromancy wasn't grouped with the other nature magics, surely the Father Flame wasn't the only element with a deity. It was nice to finally know at least a small bit of history about her own powers though. Nobody had ever told her anything about them. It was a constant frustration.