Post by Roin on Apr 24, 2016 4:58:53 GMT -5
"As you say, sir! We're nearing Baterilla, sir!"
"Mmm? So our navigators figured that's the best spot?"
"They do... somewhat, sir. The navigators consulted the parolees for their opinions and were able to judge Baterilla as the most likely spot he'd go! Our information all points toward that as well!"
"Very well. See to it that the parolees involved in the accurate handout of information... receive two months off of their debt. That should keep most of them enthused."
A follow-up salute was given, the two figures sitting in the quarters of a traditional Marine transport vessel. The woman, standing at seven feet tall, was looking almost even with the large figure. The coat adorning her own shoulders marked her rank of Lieutenant, her neon-like green hair pulled back almost impossibly tight along her head into a ponytail that went back and up through the air in a well-defined "twister". Her standard Marine uniform under the coat left the woman's small assets almost invisible, the blazer of the traditional grunt buttoned tightly and tucked into blue slacks. And as she clicked her black dress shoes together and brought her stance upward in respect, her rather thick eyebrows turned almost taut, her pale grey eyes meeting the gaze of the giant Marine before her with a sobering frown.
"I'll make my leave, Commander Radix. I can safely say, sir... that Turp has already found you."
As the woman spoke, her facing keeping dead serious, a large ferret unlike most traditional ones crawled up the figure's back. Turp was old, despite her shine and youthful appearance, but the ferret seemed just as active as a young one as she began to paw and pat at the large figure's hair. It was a sign of affection between ferrets, but between the two it was also an effective tool for ensuring the wild-haired Commander looked somewhat presentable. And as squeaks sounded from the floor, a black ferret and another rather normal looking one had begun to climb the legs of the Commander. The black one tracked up the man and to his trademark position, Skirrit wiggling his hindquarters briefly when the satchel didn't let him in right away. Once secured, however, the critter turned to look up at the sight of Yammy snuggling into the man's chest-mounted satchel. Even with the harness over his attire, the man's sheer size demanded respect as he rose to nearly reach the ceiling of the quarters.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Storm. I was worried she'd stay inside all day... and I certainly can't catch another criminal without her at my side."
Squeaks came from behind his head, the man starting forward with a nod to dismiss the saluting woman. As fast as she turned, the man partially expected her hair to start twirling and carry her off the ground... but Herba had no time for games. Carefully reaching to a table positioned near the door as the Lieutenant made her way out, the man grabbed hold of the signature baton he wielded. And with a slight stoop of his head, the man walked out of the somewhat dark quarters.
On the deck, as the light shone over the nearly eighty year-old man, Herba rose to his astounding full height of nine feet and seven inches. With his own cape wrapped tightly at the waist, billowing gently with his stride, salutes came up from the men and women on the deck. Some wore the uniforms of young officers, most of which were the men and women that were tasked with commanding the convicts he'd brought along, but the rest were criminals that had been sworn to reform. Thugs of rough, sly, and just about every underhanded walk of life made up the group... but all of them were wearing armbands or bandanas with the crew's long standing "leech". At any point the criminals took it off and refused to put it back on, Herba's men and women were ordered to put them down for insubordination... and the man's sheer size went miles to keeping the small group of nearly fifty criminals under control. Most of the transport vessel's compliment was composed of PARASITE... and as the man moved to the prow of the vessel, the ship slowing as it neared the dock of Baterilla, the man sighed with a sense of familiarity. It wasn't the first time he'd been involved in a hunt... and he knew it would likely be a challenge bringing in their quarry, even with him personally sent with the attachment.
"Miss Texas, ensure your subordinates don't have too many convicts under their watch. I am issuing the order to capture the convict Ainsland alive. Anyone who spots him is to sound the ferret whistles I've distributed."
"Aye sir! Everyone, move out! We have a convict to find! If one of you conscripts finds him, you'll be given personal quarters rights and the potential signing of a proper contract!"
Laughs of greed, disbelief at such trust, and hopeful aspirants seeking retribution filled the air as the gangplank was tossed to the hard stone dock. The brick buildings were inviting, people near the dock all looking in disbelief as normal whistles were being blown by the wide-spread young officers of PARASITE as they began to organize their groups. Rather than take the gangplank, however, Herba stepped forward and onto the edge of the vessel. Turp clutched tightly onto the man's shoulders, shifting gently within her own carriage with a single squeak to confirm she was safe for travel. With baton in hand, the boat seemed to lurch forward slightly as the huge man pushed off from the ship in a powerful leap, flying into the air and sailing over the heads of many civilians. Putting on his shoes and taking plenty of time meant that his L-shaped replacement rod wasn't going to let it fly loose. And as the man momentarily hovered, angling his body as he began to descend to one of the buildings that marked the town-proper, the man only had a single thought.
That man was said to have come searching for a Marine... it's my duty to ensure he fails. I can't afford to be separated from this new family of mine. PARASITE... Storm... the others all deserve me to prove that being on that island so long and my age hasn't dimmed my abilities in the field!
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