[HS] High Seas I: Pirates and Profits [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

darkblade

2013-12-04, 08:57 AM

Davy Jones

Something is amiss for the King of the Deep. The Flying Dutchman sits off in the distance watching a motley crew of mixed water and fire benders from Republic City raid a East Indian Tea company vessel. It won't be long before the merchants and their crew belong to you but you cannot shake a sinking feeling in the back of your mind that something is about to go horribly wrong.

***

Captain Hook and Pipsqueak

Bounty has been good to you since you escaped Pan and Neverland. No armed bands of flying children, no horrific crocodiles stalking you. This was indeed the life. Those impossible challenges have done nothing but honed your mind, leaving you sharp and prepared for whatever the fates might throw your way.

Off in the distance Smee spots a small steamboat cruising towards the new world colonies. He calls down from the crow's nest to the little pony trying to swab the deck with a mop in his mouth. "Pip! Go tell the Captain we see small merchant vessel!"

***

Captain Haddock

The Karaboudjan had a simple job. Drop off some supplies from London to the Port Royale colony and get a hefty fee from the King. So along the sea you trudge when off in the distance you see a large galleon sailing towards you. Now while it could be perfectly harmless the odds of a major ship like that crossing paths with you without ill intent is quite unlikely.

***

Captain Avery

You stand in chains along-side your first mate as you are marched towards a courthouse by several large but seemingly unarmed men.

Of course you know better, having already lost once to them. These men will never be unarmed for as long as they shall live having tasted the forbidden devil's fruit they have been gifted with an assortment of inhuman abilities ranging from freezing anything that touches their skin to being in several places at once. Half a dozen of these invincible super marines took you and your crew down. While they slaughtered your crew like animals for some unknown reason they left you and your first mate, a Spaniard Inigo Montoya alive. As you stand in front of the sealed court doors he turns to you and says. "I told you Royal Vessels make for bad targets. It's always revenge with them. This here. It's your fault Benjamin."

***

Popeye the Sailor Man ~toot~ ~toot~

After a long and peirlous job, sailing halfway across the world and back all you want is to go home and spend some time with Olive, even if you have to give old Bluto a good beating to get him away first. Unfortunately you find your ship being boarded. A stern looking man crosses the plank and draws his sword. Strange wires connect the sword to unseen devices hidden within his long coat, it is unclear just what it is but it is quite obviously not a normal weapon.

Standing before you and your crew alone he smirks. "I represent the Pirate City Armada. This vessel has been chosen to join, may the Captain please step forward."

Every sailor has heard the legends of Armada. A mobile pirate city built on top of thousands of commandeered vessels, their command killed and the crew and passengers forcibly inducted to ply their trade for the pirate lords. Usually though the stories said the boarding parties composed of more than one man.

doliest

2013-12-04, 04:48 PM

Davy Jones
The sea stirs around him- no, with him. He is the sea, and the sea is him. With its' goddess bound, the waters sung through the next best thing- the Lord of The Deep, The Ferrywayman. Davy Jones. He didn't have feelings anymore- not the way men of mortal kin did. No, his feelings were those of the sea. The dread of a coming storm; the rage of a tsunami; the obsession of a whirlpool.

This, though? This was...different. Something harder to comprehend. Perhaps it was the presence of Benders- Moon Children and Dragonspawn singing their counter-point melody. It was unsettling. Yes, that was it, surely.

He'd come for the merchants- blood upon his waters, scared men for his crew. But...he hadn't claimed a Moon Child in quite some time. Perhaps that would end this discordant melody. Yes, he chuckles, that would calm the waters nicely.

His voice raises so that the whole crew might hear, Alright boys, time to show the Moonchildren how cruel the sea can be! Let the waves claim the Dragonspawn. Open fire, and move into range for boarding!

Not with ropes- unnecessary, given the...unique nature of the Dutchman's crew.

Cracklord

2013-12-04, 05:55 PM

Captain Ben Avery
"I'm shocked at you." The good captain said, and sounded it. Tall and well made, he seemed to bear his current imprisonment and circumstances with commendable fortitude, though something in the set of his jaw gave the impression that the thought of his men, and the fate of his ship, the Hotspur, wasn't far from his mind. "Are you suggesting that we should have sat on our hands and allowed Countess Maria Annette y Valdecia to be forced into marriage against her will to the nefarious Don Lardo? Poor form, I say."

Behind the two of them stood a woman dressed all in black; black breeches, black jacket, and a wide-brimmed black hat that shadowed her face but in no way in no way concealed a beauty that was startling, a wide mouth, dark eyes, long dark hair, skin like silk and a slender, but undeniably feminine figure.

Innigo didn't answer, although he sighed, a weary sort of fatalism in his eyes. After twenty years, he had learned all that could be taught, to the point where he was simply too good to fence anymore, there was no challenge, no competition, and no sign of his enemy, the six-fingered man. The vengeance that had once sustained him had begun to give way to despair, and increasingly he looked to wine for company.

"I followed you to avenge my father, to slay Comte de Rochefort so that at last Dominyo Montaya could be at peace. Instead, I shall die, and my fathers spirit will never be appeased." Inigo seemed diminished, without his fathers masterpiece, the six-finger sword. Like his heart had been torn from him along with the sword.

"Cheer up, sport, we're not beaten yet." Avery replied, running his hands over the bonds that held his hands behind his back. Getting them free would be a start, although without swords he and Inigo would be at a disadvantage. What they needed was Fezzik, although he was currently visiting family off the coast of Greenland and wouldn't be appearing in this story. Stil, failure was not a word in his vocabulary, and giving up wasn't even worth considering. Then he grinned. They'd tied his hands in the classiv double-overhead devil-tongue, quite effective, but easy enough to slip, if you had the knowledge. Which he had.

Of course, he still didn't have a sword (nor did Inigo) but it was certainly a start. Twisting his wrists just so, the knot came loose, and the ropes fell away, leaving him rubbing his wrists to get circulation back into his hands. Sidling over to Inigo while the guards attention was diverted, he freed his hands with two sharp tugs, then checked on the countess, blithely oblivious to the look of adoration she gave him as he did.

Now it was two unarmed swordmasters in the middle of a hostile town, against a dozen of the most terrible, black-hearted cads empowered far beyond the human norm in ways it was better not to think about. Things were looking up already. Now all he needed was a ship and a crew, and perhaps he could make his triumphant escape, and resume his part in the war against Napoleon, and the more personal vendetta against the head of Cardinal Richelieu's guards.

All in a days work for Captain Ben Avery.

Draxx

2013-12-04, 08:12 PM

It's an hour from sunset when a sailed vessel pulls ahead of the steamship. But such a dark and sinister craft it was! A brigantine, fully rigged and outfitted, cannons bristling from its gun ports, its hull rakish and gleaming in the light. A skeleton with an upraised sword formed the spine of its prow, its death's-head grinning with the anticipation of its next victim's fate. A huge cannon, four times the size of any other, sat alone atop the aft deck behind the wheel, its massive barrel swung about fixed on the sky, as though at any moment something could descend from the heavens and attack the ship, its cradle mounted on a revolving base. Below, the captain's quarters were framed by a stern crafted like a huge skull with windows forming luminous eyes and gilt the outline of its jaw, nose, and brows. The railing above was shaped like a captain's hat with serpents hissing at the corners. The hull was painted red and black with gold trim, and brass fittings gleamed in the sunlight. The pirate ship looked fast and wicked, like a cat prepared to pounce. To make matters worse, over the ship's intercom came the muzak consisting entirely of dirty drinking songs illegally taped from Radio Tortuga.

Smee made his ungainly way down the rigging, moving without grace or skill or any concern for basic safety, yet always preserved, seemingly, by sheer dumb luck. At last he landed upon the deck, and knocked twice on the double doors that led to the Captain's Quaters. From behind Smee, the doors to the captain's cabin burst wide and out strode the infamous Captain James Hook.

From port to starboard and bowsprit to mainmast the pirates stopped what they were doing as their master stepped upon the deck, the sleaziest sleaze of the seven seas, a man so deep he's nearly unfathomable and so quick he's even fast asleep! Of the coast of Hispanola, The Jolly Rodger had been enjoying some time in the waking world, plundering and spending their stolen gold, before returning to the land from which they berthed, and the immortality and youth it offered.

At first glance, Hook looked very like his ship - or perhaps it was the other way around. He was sleek and narrow and wicked looking from his sharp-nosed face to his pointed toes. His captain's coat was cut from red and black cloth and trimmed in gold filigree. He wore a gold-fringed sash across one shoulder with a cutlass sheathed at its loop. Ruffled white lace hung at his neck, and the angular face above it was reminiscent of a ship's prow cutting through a sea's white froth. in short, he was dressed to kill, loot and plunder, everything a pirate should be.

His black hair hung down about his shoulders in ringlets like the rigging from a mast. His captain's tricorne was broad-brimmed and tailored and looked exactly like the aft railing of his vessel, and the Black Flag had found a twin in Hook's face. Cruel, hard, sneering, utterly remorseless and without pity it was, with mustaches that coiled like vipers and eyes that could freeze a bird in flight, he was a dread figure standing there at the helm of the most feared Pirate Ship of an age. At the end of his left hand he had affixed the dreaded hook for which he was so well known, its newly sharpened hook point gleaming in the sunlight, and a cutlass was held in his other.

His sneer firmly in place he turned and faced the crew, and lifted his lace-sleeved right hand condescendingly. Two hundred strong, and not a man among them could read past the second grade, only one or two could distinguish a spoon from a fork, and less than a handful could count to ten. Their idea of living was to hit people with anything handy, grab any valuables in sight, and blue the lot on wenches and rum, all the time bellowing those hearty songs which John Masefield would write in course of time.

"Avast, me hearties!" cried the Bosun, twice for emphasis. "Blow me down if it isn't easy pickings ahoy! Look lively and shipshape, run out the guns, and hoist the mainsail! Put your backs into it, you swab-headed deck-knaves!" This was his normal habit of speech, since anything else would have been incomprehensible to his crew, but Hook preferred the airs of a gentleman. "Hoist the colors and alter course! No prisoners!"

The pirates cheered, and raised their arms, some brandishing weapons, some bare fists. The ship rocked with their cries, then with the ease of long practice fell into position, bringing the ship about with uncanny grace and skimming it over the waves, the craft moving so easily it was seemingly on the cusp of taking flight.

ThePhantom

2013-12-04, 09:02 PM

Popeye the Sailor Man

Popeye steps forward, corn pipe in hand. Who does this fella thinks he is, trying to take his ship with only one man? It would take fair more than that to take a ship from Popeye, especially if they plans on doing him in.

"I yam captain, and ye aren't taking me ship. Better fer ye to leave."

He points back at the stern's ship with his pipe.

Grif

2013-12-05, 02:17 AM

Captain Haddock

The good captain was not having a good day. First he found out to his dismay that the deck boy had somehow managed to misplace his personal brandy store during their stopover in Seville. Then his first mate, the treacherous Allan Thomson tried to lead a mutiny, apparently in league with a Moroccan businessman to smuggle opium. No honest captain would allow that! He took personal satisfaction in throwing that landlubber off shore.

That left him with a problem though. He now only has half the crew a ship this size this size would normally have. That meant pirates were a Bad Thing (tm). "Mutinous deckrats. Confound these blood-sucking parasites." He put his telescope down and sounded the horn. "Cutler! Full steam ahead. No pirate is boarding the Karaboudjan on my watch. Tell the men to ready their weapons." Of weapons, they have only a few: revolvers and pistols at the most, along with the customary swords. But he knew the men now would put up a stout fight against any privateers. They done it once with Allan, and they'd do it again if they have to.

Draxx

2013-12-05, 04:43 AM

Hook
In contrast, the captain of the Jolly Roger had seldom been in finer spirits, feet tapping up an impromptu hornpipe as he beheld the vessel in his sights. The main topsail suddenly flapped like thunder, and the Ship of the line turned to it's prey, the Trade winds blowing eternally across the Atlantic, at his back and all he needed. With a flourish, he drew out his telescope, training it at his victim, a crocodilian smile alight on his features as he watched his prey.

It was one of those newfangled sorts of ships, iron within and without, running on engines instead of the wind. "Lay her on port tack. Full and bye."

"Aye aye, cap'n!" Came the response, and the order was carried out with efficiency unrivaled in the navies of any kings. His crew had served him since time out of mind, their port the undiscovered country where the turning of the years touched them not, and they knew their business better then anyone, having had eternity to learn it.

She crested a wave, seeming to hang suspended a moment, weightless, then thrust back to the ocean in a burst of spray. The tautened weather rigging began to sing a more cheerful note, blending with the music of her passage through the water. The roaring wind pressed her over, and she went surging along, rising and swooping as if with pleasure, leaving a creamy wake behind her on the blue water while the sea roared under her bows.
"Run out the guns." Hook said, as he closed inexorably with his prey. "Give them a taste of the buckshot."

PurityIcekiller

2013-12-05, 04:47 PM

[The Jolly Roger]

"Aye-aye, captain!"

Pipsqueak ran to a nearby cannon and struggled to load it. Despite what some might think, picking up shot with hooves was not exactly an easy thing. After finally getting the shot inside, he lit the fuse...

The cannon didn't fire. It seems the careless colt had neglected to put in powder or wad. After staring for a moment in disappointment, he re-emptied the cannon and tried again.

Draxx

2013-12-05, 06:14 PM

Hook
The lower deck guns had been secured (bar a few exceptions), and the sweating crew worked at them, rolling the forty guns out of their ports. The enormous gun on the decks, Long Tom, began to swivel, the enormous gun revolving on it's base with a slow, tortured grinding noise, until it faced the merchant ship.

Smee walked down to the lower gundeck, inspecting the action stations, where ten twenty-four pounders of the starboard battery had rolled out. Most of the lower deck was in twilight, for the stout shafts of twilight did little to illuminate the farther parts of the ship with it's sombre red paint. Half a dozen men came by with buckets of sand which they scattered about, Smee kept an eye on them because the guns crews depended on sand for a firm foothold. The water buckets beside each gun were filled, serving to dampen the swabs that cleaned out the guns, and for instant use against fire. "Clear for action, Cap'n!" Smee called out, failing to notice Pipsqueaks attempts to get ready.

"Not yet." Hook said, his eyes, blue as forget-me-nots, flashing with vindictive pleasure as he watched the merchantship. "Pull alongside them first. Then fire."

darkblade

2013-12-05, 09:34 PM

Popeye

The swordsman lets the corners of his lips flare slightly upwards into the world's slightest smirk. "Well Captain, you can surrender or you can fight. Regardless this boat belongs to the Lovers now."

***

Avery

As you break free the bulbous Don Lardo makes off, Innigo's prized weapon (and Avery's useful but not nearly as sentimental sword too).

One of the magical fruit abusing soldiers lunges for you as his fist closes you can feel the warmth being drained out of the air.

***

Davy Jones

The shells (literally your cannon balls appear to be large shellfish) rip through the Bender's boat. Several Dragonspawn fall into the depths where their talents are useless. The Moonchildren though mostly manage to call upon streams of water to slow their descent and keep them afloat. Still they are sitting ducks for your crew.

***

Luffy

You and the Strawhats are visiting the infamous port of Tourtoga. Never have you seen such a wretched hive of scum and villainy. The rest of your crew have all gone off to see to their own needs in town leaving you to wander the town on your own. Suddenly you hear the terrified screams of a woman in danger, no one else seems even remotely concerned.

***

S'reee

You swim a clear stretch of water untainted by human hands. For generations they had used your oceans without issue but now they abuse magic and science alike for the sake of comfort and efficiency.

As you swim you hear a desperate cry from the depth, a powerful beast, ancient and scared is trapped on the bottom of the sea, trying to escape it's confines.

***

Barbosa

Port Royale, a tiny little colony but you can sense the last piece of your cursed gold is holed up in the Governor's mansion. It's meagre garrison shouldn't pose much of a threat.

((Yes you're just starting with the plot of the first movie, don't worry things will pick up soon.))

***

Kidd

While visiting a minor English noble you hear a rucus downstairs. Out in the hallway you can hear the noble, Don Lardo order more soldiers rush to the courtyard as he sprints by (much faster than you have ever seen him run) carrying two swords, one of which you recognize. The six fingered sword, the famous blade of the pirate and legendary swordsman Innigo Montoya.

***

Blackbeard

The problem with tongueless zombies for a crew is that they don't make much noise when they are killed. When you step out of your cabin you find several of your crew men lying dead on the poopdeck. The remaining zombies go about their tasks barely aware of the world around them, much less their dead companions. Closer inspection reveals whoever did this knew what they were fighting, a single slash to the back of the brain stem, reducing the rest of the greymatter to useless meat. Also the blood is still wet and no other ships are in sight. Whoever did this is still on board (or a very good swimmer).

***

Hornblower and Sharpe

You stand before Sir Albemarle Bertie, Admiral of the Royal Navy. He looks you over disapprovingly. "I asked for the best and this is what Lord Fury sends my way. Pathetic really, unfortunately I don't have time to send for another crew."

He pulls out a map and a compass that does not point north. "One of Lord Fury's spies on the mainland was returning to London with some key intelligence when the ship carrying him was hijacked by pirates. It was a mixed blessing that the pirates happened to be from Armada."

You've heard rumours of Armada, the floating pirate city, that captures civilians to ply their trades of pirate lords. The fact that such a thing could avoid detection for the centuries that the rumours have been floating about made you pay them little mind though. "He managed to send us a message confirming he is alive and this compass which we believe will lead you to Armada. Any questions?"

***

Nemo

Republic City welcomes you. A joint effort by the four nations that through ingenuity and their mystical mastery of chakra have managed to fend off European imperialists. They idolize you and what you stood for. Of course just last year they idolized a man who wanted to strip every citizien of the very same chakra powers that have kept their nations free so it is faint praise. None the less it is one of the few places that you won't be shot on sight and has shipwrights capable of doing repairs on the Nautilus.

A young woman approaches you as you wander the docks. A member of the Water Tribe by the look of her, she does not seem pleased to see you. "You're the mad bomber everyone loves so much lately, right?"

Aric Kale

2013-12-05, 10:00 PM

Barbossa

The pirate captain chuckles grimly, the clouds seem endless and the night would be long. All in all, a good night for a raid. He gives a command for the lights to be dimmed, and the scorched ship glides towards the coastal town with black sails–invisible to the naked eye. Hahaharr! Alright now, ye cack-handed deck apes! I want ye to cause as much a ruckus as can be while Pintel and Regetti recover our gold from the mansion. I have only one rule tonight lads...no prisoners! The crew lets out a short cheer before Barbossa silences them with a glare and a quick word.

Soon, the cannons are in range and Captain Hector Barbossa orders a full, continuous broadside on the tower and barracks, while half the crew would ravage the city.

doliest

2013-12-05, 10:28 PM

Davy Jones
A grim smirk plays across the tentacles that partially comprise his mouth as he watches the Dragonspawn fall. Their song of fire had no place on the sea; now, their duet partner on the other hand...

He calls out to his men again, pointing to the targets,Bring the Moonchildren aboard men, but remember- knock the fight out of them first. Only the dead and the dying have a place on this ship!

A cruel glimmer dances in the eyes of most of the crew- how could it not? Those who lived on the Dutchman were a superstitious and cowardly lot, either murderers hoping to forstall judgement indefinitely, or weak men petrified by the fear of what awaited them. Regardless, both could only alleviate the boredom that now defined their lives with gambling and cruelty. The first was to be put away, as the captain had called for the second.

Some will 'board' the other ship, moving from one to the other in an instant to deal with those not thrown aside.

Others? Take to the sea that commands them, straight for the Moonchildren, ready to rip and tear until they were suitable for...recruitment.

Cracklord

2013-12-05, 10:37 PM

Blackbeard
The Captain roamed the deck, a bottle of Rum in one hand, his other on the pommel of his ancient, broken sword, the legendary Blade of Triton. His visage was dark and cold, ravaged by passions too strong for any individual brain, by cruelty, sorrow, age, pride, selfishness and loneliness, a cold and murderous glint in hooded eyes the only hint of the dark and brooding mind at work within him. He was tall and broad, his chest and arms in particular strong after a lifetime at sea, however his true strength was something more primal, more primitive, and animalistic, savage even.

"I find I be placed in something of a bewilderment." He said, seemingly to himself as he kicked one of the corpses over the side, with no more ceremony or regard then he would his fingernail clippings. He took a swig of rum as he spoke, then turned slowly, the turn of his lips thoughtful. Normally, the mere rumor of the Queen Anne's Revenge was enough to clear the Trade Routes and put men to ground. And yet, men had looked to make their fame by coming after him before.

"It's third watch, yet I hear no bell, and upon deck I find me crew put t' t' sword." His tone is slow and at ease as he continued, a show of confidence as much as anything, although solitude had given him the habit of speaking to himself on occasion. He stepped over the corpses without a backward glance, as though the deaths of his crew were of no consideration whatsoever.

"I find meself intrigued by these circumstances. A stowaway, aboard this ship. Such a thing is unheard, normally getting men to come aboard be something of a difficulty." He waved over the First Mate. "But I have a way to get to the bottom of this. Take brimstone, and set it to light below decks until the hold is full of smoke. That will force our interloper out of hiding."

Grif

2013-12-05, 10:43 PM

Captain Haddock

"Cutler, you three-eyed parrot, where's that speed?!" Haddock shouted, watching the wooden vessel slowly, but impossibly catching up.

"The lads are coaling as we speak, capt'n!" came the hassled reply.

"Well hurry it up!" Haddock replied into the brass speaking tube, before turning to his helmsman: a scrawny lad of twenty.
"Simmons, keep 'er steady."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"I need a drink." he grumbled. Haddock rummaged around in his personal drawer, and came out with a flask of brandy. He promptly gulped down half the contents.

A fresh billow of smoke erupted from the funnel, and the Karaboudjan, where she was sailing steadily at a sedate pace, finally began to lumber forward, cutting through the seas with all the efficiency of modern technology. A merchant ship she may be, but speed is something she had in abundance, at least compared to sail-powered ships. It was, after all, the reason she had been chosen to deliver these supplies.

darkblade

2013-12-05, 10:57 PM

Blackbeard

Your zombies comply with their orders bringing torches down onto the lower decks. Soon smoke billows up through grates and formerly invisible cracks in the decks. No intruder is revealed.

Another zombie falls from the crow's nest right down in front of you. Quickly glancing up you can see a man in a white cloak, a thin dagger extending from his wrist reflecting the torchlight below.

***

Davy Jones

The remaining benders put up little fight but there is little they can do to creatures capable of breathing their weapons. Within minutes you have a small selection of Water Benders, many missing limbs (only the most blessed of the Moonchildren can bend without hands as your crew soon learned.

One of them a young boy, smart enough to compliment his natural abilities with a now waterlogged pistol looked up at you in awe. "Great spirit of the sea..."

***

Barbossa

Your crew storms out into the city smashing and burning everything in sight. Generally causing as much mayhem as possible so that you can slip to the mansion relatively undisturbed.

As you make your way up to the mansion you notice something amiss. The front gate is unlocked, surely the governor would have someone put some effort into protecting himself and his family?

Cracklord

2013-12-05, 11:14 PM

Blackbeard
Standing on the deck, his eyes trace the fall to it's point of origin, where a man in a white stands crouched, blade extended, silhouetted for a moment in the cold moon light. For a moment, some long-buried superstitious part of him feels mortal as he stares up, and urges him caution. Seventy years, man and boy, he's walked upon decks and commanded vessels, and some part of him recognizes this, understands what it represents, perhaps even welcomes it.

But he has never backed down from a challenge, and no intention to start. He smiles, the expression somehow endeavoring to make him seem even crueler, and turns his hand on the pommel of his blade. The entire ship creaks in protest, but obeys it's master, and the interloper finds his footing gone as the entire sail collapses, leaving the mast bare and nothing to hold him up, ropes snapping away then snaking around the figures legs as Blackbeard watches with every impression of enjoyment, lifting his rum bottle to his lips and draining the last of it.

Draxx

2013-12-05, 11:28 PM

Hook
"Fire Long Tom. Beneath the Water-line." he says as the ship begins to draw away again, hand and hook holding the telescope in place as he watches the ship ahead. Long Tom was the monstrous cannon mounted on the aft deck. It was Hook's favorite weapon. The entire ship shook as it boomed, it's deadly payload sending up a plume of water forty feet high, barely a dozen meters sternward of the Karaboudjan. Hook shook his head, then gestured meaningfully with his hook."Well, now that you've taken the time to find your range, hole them beneath the engines. I want that ship dead in the water."

It really was an ugly vessel, he thought as they closed, held together with rust, spit and hope, it's engines stinking up the clean sea air. Some part of him is glad those designs never took on. He's a romantic at heart - why be a sailor otherwise? - and had no desire to pilot command such a vessel. "Fire again. I want them scuppered."

ThePhantom

2013-12-05, 11:54 PM

Popeye

Hm, arrogant git. Well, its not like Popeye was one to back down from a fight.

"Then lets go."

Popeye swings his fists, aiming for battering this swordman's head as the crew steps away, not wanting to get caught by their captain's fists. Thoses hurt like getting smacked by a hammer.

doliest

2013-12-06, 12:01 AM

Davy Jones
Davy Jones steps down, looking at the assorted Moonchildren, his pipe taking a place in-between his tentacles. I am the sea.

He looks over to his men as they take their places at the ready- to give live, or take it, all on his order. Aboard the Dutchman, such was the captains' power. Moonchildren. Do you fear death? Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds lay bare...all your sins punished?

On that statement he gestures, almost lazily, to the ship they had been raiding. It had been but moments, but already to them it may no doubt seem a lifetime ago.

I can forstall that judgement- one hundred years before the mast. Or... Another lazy gesture over the side, this time to drowned/drowning Dragonspawn. Ye' can join the Dragonspawn in the Deep...in the Dark. Its' yer' choice.

Corvond

2013-12-06, 12:26 AM

Sharpe + Hornblower

Sharpe was silent as the Admiral spoke. He was 6'1" with tousled blond hair, and a scar that gave his lips a sardonic look. His eyes were at once thoughtful and grim, and he looked tough and lean, hard and incalculably dangerous. Worth a battalion of Gurkhas all on his own. Since his battlefield promotion he was used to this sort of treatment, from officers who had bought their commissions, and it just washed over him like so much hot air. These sort of men needed him, and they knew it. Let them complain.

"Doctor Manturin sir?" He said, when the Admiral stopped speaking, accepting the compass and letter, glancing at them briefly then turning to stare at the admiral once more, handing them to Hornblower as he did so. "A good man. I've met him a few times." The his lower class origins were plain in his speech, the Sheffield accent unmistakable.

This was hardly the first time he'd been asked to escort a ship on an important run, he'd even wound up serving at Trafalgar due to such circumstances, and had only one question. "How many men should I bring then? The entire regiment?"

Hornblower, for himself, was a rather tall and rather gangling individual, with hollow cheeks and a melancholy cast of countenance. He was a little nonplussed at the treatment, but didn't show it. He was sometimes dismissed or patronized a little because of his youth, but normally his successes earned him, at the very least, a measure of respect from the Admirality. Nonetheless, he rose above it, inclining his head. "Very well sir. And if I may ask, what exactly should we do when we find the Armada?" He asked.

He didn't like the sound of these orders. The source was suspect, the mission seemed too open-ended, and the information too lacking.

Aric Kale

2013-12-06, 12:30 AM

Barbossa

Barbossa was not often seen doing his own dirty work, but this had do be done right the first time.
In the dark of night, with Jack on his shoulder, playing with the ridiculous feather in his wide-brimmed hat, Barbossa strides up the steps to the Governor's mansion and shoves the hapless Pintel forward. You'll be goin' through first, Master Pintel, with yer matey Ragetti soon to follow. Keep a sharp eye fer traps! His hand played with the pistol at his side, ready to fire at a moments notice as the one-eyed crewman opens the door cautiously.

AnimeKid

2013-12-06, 08:45 AM

Luffy

With a massive grin on his face Monkey D. Luffy wandered aimlessly around Tortuga. He hardly ever got to walk around on his own anymore. Not since that incident with him almost getting executed by Buggy and Alvida back in Loguetown and Smoker showing up. That was a couple years ago though. Now it finally seemed like he could go do what he wanted. So what first? Oh, duh! He needed to find some place to eat! As he comes to that train of thought he hears the screams of a woman. His grins widens as a person in danger means a reward to whoever helps them! And if that person was a woman chances were she either had her own tavern or worked at one! That's how it always worked out for the Strawhats. With that in mind Luffy took off like a shot to where the woman was screaming from. 'Free food here I come!'

Grif

2013-12-06, 11:05 AM

Captain Haddock

"Billions of billious blue blistering barnacles!" the captain thundered, as the ship shook from the near-miss, waving his now-empty flask of brandy about. "The bloodsucking brigand wants to sink us! Well, I'll show him what's what!" Haddock took a speculative gulp of his flask again, and blinked as he found it empty. Shaking his head, he grabbed the pistol that lay on the desk, and stormed out.

"But Captain--" Simmons began, to no avail. Rolling his eyes, he quickly darted out of the bridge and hollered for help from below-decks.

Hook himself might soon spy a man waving angrily at that at the aft of the Karaboudjan, holding what appears to be a pistol at one hand and a metallic flask on the other. Then the figure abruptly disappeared as two more came and tackled him from behind, presumably to save the good captain from further foolishness.

And all this while, the ship continued to pull away from the pirate ship.

darkblade

2013-12-06, 11:41 AM

Luffy

Tracing the screaming you find a woman pinned to a wall by another woman. The attacker has one very notable feature, for a head she has a horrifically large scarab beetle.

***

Barbosa

As you and your men enter the mansion you hear the sounds of feet shifting upstairs someone is there.

***

Sharpe and Hornblower

"One ship, last time something like this happened we tried a direct assault. It ended badly for everyone." The Admiral explained.

"Find a way on board without raising suspicion and retrieve Manturin's intelligence. Preferably with Manturin alive but if it proves impossible we can't risk his knowledge of the crown falling into the hands of the pirate lords."

***

Davy Jones

Another bender this one a little older, given the scars along his face this wasn't his first battle. "You killed my brother down there, just because he wasn't a Waterbender. I'll spend a thousand years in Hell before I serve you."

There is a murmur of approval through the prisoners except the one that called you 'spirit'. "Fools! Don't you see? He is the sea, true vengeance upon the Fire Nation for the war to refuse his offer is to deny your ancestors."

The others seem less than impressed with this speech and don't say anything.

***

Popeye

The swordsman goes to duck under your blow but fails and takes it to the chest. He is sent flying and losses grip on his sword. As they blade falls something strange happens, for a split second it seems as though there are hundreds of versions of the sword spinning as they fall into an intricately bladed snowflake. The fact that your deck takes a good fifty slashes right through the thick wood before the sword clangs flat on the ground supports this.

***

Blackbeard

The hooded man tries to outrun the collapsing sail. He manages to swan dive off, more to avoid falling than to really try escaping, that would be impossible now. The ropes catch him though and leave him dangling before you.

doliest

2013-12-06, 12:20 PM

Davy Jones
He tilts his head looking at the scarred Moonchild, To The Depths, then. That is all the word the shark-man behind the Moonchild needs to slit his throat, letting him bleed for a moment before throwing him overboard.

He turns to the younger Moonchild, Welcome to the crew, laddie. The Spindlefish man behind the young Moonchild pushes him to his feet and over to the crew.

He overlooks the remaining Moonchildren,one last offer to them conveyed in his eyes- and in the fact that they hadn't joined the scarred man yet.

Aric Kale

2013-12-06, 12:28 PM

Barbossa

The pirate and his two cronies make their way inside the mansion. Regetti is shoved forward by Barbossa, as opposed to Pintel, and the three men make their way upstairs.

AnimeKid

2013-12-06, 02:26 PM

Luffy came around the corner with a smile on his face at the thought of all the meat he was going to get to eat. A nonstop all you can eat buffet. Then he saw the woman that was holding up the defenseless one. I think you know how it goes after that. "BUUUUGGGGG! GUM GUM PISTOL!" the womans' bug head might turn just in time to catch a glimpse of the fist coming towards it.

Cracklord

2013-12-06, 04:29 PM

Blackbeard
The rope tightens, until it's so taut it's cutting out circulation, and more snake their way down, wrapping around his legs and shoulders, holding him quite motionless, like a fly in a spiders web. After a moment, Blackbeard tosses away the empty rum bottle, where it shatters, then without ceremony steps over and pulls away the hood, getting a good look at the interlopers face. "Now, we can either talk this out, or I can send you bellow-decks, as fuel for the fire." He paused, then shrugged. "Your choice."

Ben Avery
When the escape came, it was sudden and entirely unprompted, more a desperate reaction to Lardo then anything else. Avery ducked under the swipe of the pirate, turning his momentum into a dive, and seized the legs of the corpulent spanish Nobleman in a tackle that knocked him off his feet and against the ground hard. Lardo was well-enough padded that no fall like that would harm him, but nonetheless he lost his grip on the blade. In the split second he had before the guards stabbed him, prone and helpless, Avery seized the sword, scabbard and all, then threw it to Inigo.

Inigo caught the sword, brought it to his lips in the fencer's salute, and suddenly was a shadow of his old self once more. He drew it as he stepped forward, and the blade flashed and sang around him like a living thing. His first blow deftly redirected a hand full of fire the guard to his right had summoned from somewhere, sending him staggering back clutching his hand that was missing fingers, his second sunk clean into the guards chest, and the sixth guard was dead before the first had had sufficient time to hit the ground. Their powers were no match for the uncanny mastery Inigo had with the sword.

"Hello. I am Inigo Montaya, come on if you dare!" He shouted as a challenge, then before they had the chance he was upon them, fighting brilliantly, holding off the remainder of the guards while Avery led the Countess slowly back down the road towards the docks, and Lardo slipped free, getting to his feet. Inigo's sword leaped and slashed, whirled, stabbed, cut. Blood flew from it. A trail of blood ran down the road, and a dozen men lay dead or sorely wounded around him, but it was all he could do. More troopers crowded in, prepared and knowing what to expect, and Inigo was tiring. Even as Avery watched, Inigo twisted a split second too slow, and a bone spur that had errupted from ones knuckles grazed his neck, drawing blood even as Inigo's counter-thrust took the mans heart. Another came in low, and inigo's parry was a second slow, leaving him open to the thrust of another. Then the sword was knocked aside, and Avery was with his friend, the two of them back to back against a veritable horde of the soldiers.

It was powerful stuff, a last stand, two against many in the defense of a lady, yet it seemed a futile defiance. The two of them could each block a hundred slashes, yet the one hundred and first would slip through their defenses, and fatigue, and numbers, and the unnatural abilities of their opponents were beginning to tell. Then, for a split second, Avery saw it. An opening, no more then a split second, but enough. He darted through it, flipping over two of the surprised guards with incredible agility, and a moment later Inigo followed, darting down an alleyway, The countess in tow, hoping against hope that fate would be so kind as to offer them some hope of escape, or lying low.

The Tygre

2013-12-06, 06:07 PM

Nemo

Captain Nemo stares out at the docks, watching the lights from the Nautilus and the repair crews dancing on the water. The Benders and their cities have always reminded him of home, or at least certain parts. He can't help but muse on how they should be ingratiated to his home nation for showing them the way to connections between the spiritual and physical in a practical fashion, but he keeps such thoughts to himself.

As the girl asks Nemo her question, he cautiously grips the squid-emblazoned hilt on his scimitar, carefully. An assassin? "I hold no claims on being a sane man if being a sane man means submission, girl. As for being a bomber? No. I am merely a deliverer."

Hattish Thing

2013-12-06, 06:19 PM

Kidd

While visiting a minor English noble you hear a rucus downstairs. Out in the hallway you can hear the noble, Don Lardo order more soldiers rush to the courtyard as he sprints by (much faster than you have ever seen him run) carrying two swords, one of which you recognize. The six fingered sword, the famous blade of the pirate and legendary swordsman Innigo Montoya.

The Captain sits upon his wooden desk inside a small windowless room. This place was to be his living area for the small amount of time he was at port. There wasn't much stored within. Several books, an inkwell, his rifle, some spare clothing... Just his regular things. He's sitting upon his desk overlooking the account of a sea monster some surviving sailor had written of an encounter with a fearsome tentacle behemoth... Twas a frightening yet riveting read. He is distracted from his reading at the sound of yelling. He didn't like that much.

He rarely got free time, and now this was bothering him.

Captain Kidd rushes downstairs, wondering what the hell was going on. This was supposed to be some time off before his next voyage. Kidd had in his room reading over some documents telling of a mysterious creature destroying English Vessels every few months... No idea what that could be. He was to have lunch with the noble in but half an hour. Kidd did enjoy a cup of coffee and a biscuit or two. Or possibly some fresh toffee. Kidd always had a fondness for sweets.

Anyway, he grabs his two large pistols from his pocket and sheathes his rapier, running down as fast as he can to see what the problem is. He has his pistols pointed forward and shouts out to Don Lardo. Don, what the hell is going on?!

ThePhantom

2013-12-06, 06:20 PM

Popeye

Well, that's going to mean more work for me, Popeye thinks as his deck is cut up by the sword. Popeye steps on the hilt of the sword to keep it from picked back up.

"Ye had enough?"

He asks the swordman, likely he picks himself back up.

darkblade

2013-12-07, 08:51 AM

Popeye

The swordsman's shame shows on his face even as he doesn't say anything. Instead focusing his energy into sweeping his legs under Popeye's own.

***

Kidd

"Pirates! Ben Avery! Innigo Montoya! Downstairs! Quickly!" Don warns without slowing down.

***

Nemo

"We're still recovering from that last violent idealist here." She gestures towards the remains of the pro-bending arena.

"So don't get any ideas of dragging us into your war with Britain. Republic City is neutral and it's staying that way."

***

Blackbeard

With a swift gesture he pulls his body up and uses that wrist blade to slice the ropes and casually back flips to the deck. "Edward Kenway at your service. I represent some parties interested in the unique properties of your ship. I hopped to get my information and leave without issue but your crew is quiet non-responsive to interrogation."

***

Luffy

Your elongated fist connects, a cracking sound not unlike stepping on a bug is heard. The beetle headed woman run off her hands wrapped around the scarab now leaking grew fluid through a crack in it's exoskeleton.

***

Barbosa

As you climb the stairs the sounds become more clear. A window is being forced open and someone is trying to climb through it.

***

Davy Jones

The remaining benders enlist without a second thought, submitting to your rule. Still you feel as though something was wrong.

***

Avery

Even armed the forces persuing you were numerous. Still the countess lead you towards a secret passage. "It'll take us to the docks, but we must hurry. Lardo can flood the tunnel at a moment's notice."

ThePhantom

2013-12-07, 12:11 PM

Popeye

And the attempt works, Popeye's legs are swept out from him, sending the sword once again into the air. Well, this could be problemic.

"Aaarh!"

Popeye falls to the deck of his ship, momently winded.

Aric Kale

2013-12-07, 02:09 PM

Barbossa

The three men reach the top of the staircase, where Barbossa has Pintel turn left, the other right and he heads for the source of the noise. He draws his pistol and opens the door, expecting to see a figure framed by a window.

Hattish Thing

2013-12-07, 02:35 PM

Captain Kidd:

The Pirate Hunter grins a tad before licking his lips in anticipation. He always loved the chance to rip a pirate to pieces. Nasty, filthy, slimy little creatures. He'd prefer to keep a few alive for interrogation and torture. He sometimes took a sick pleasure from the site of making evil-doers scream... He was relentless, cruel, and completely justified in his mind, no matter how much needless blood and violence he caused. For the greater good, of course. After all, he'd lost his father John Kyd to pirates at sea long ago. He paid the filthy creatures back with bullet, sword, and blood.

He doesn't ever stop, but he doesnt run either. He's walking forward slowly but determined, shooting at absolutely anything that looks threatening. He'll go for two spots on a pirate, first a leg, then the forehead. If the head shot missed, at least his enemy would be crippled. COME THEN, YOU MISERABLE URCHINS!

Cracklord

2013-12-07, 06:50 PM

Blackbeard
Dark eyes narrowed beneath his brows, and they flashed with comprehension, and something else, something more difficult to identify. He recognized the feeling he'd had before as familiarity now, it was unmistakable. That name. That face, or what he could make of it beneath the hood, the jawline and blond hair flecked with grey. Those eyes. They had sailed together, on another ship, in another time. A suspicion woke in him then, and he bared his teeth.

Stepping forward and moving with a speed that bellied his bulk, he caught Kenway's left wrist in a hand like a vise, then forcefully dragged it up to his face, eyes running across the back of the assassins hand. A moment later, he let out a breath, either relief or disappointment, as whatever he was looking for wasn't to be found, whatever he suspected to find was not there. Rough skin, darkened by the tropics sun, knuckles scarred, hands calloused from both swordsmanship and the life of a sailor. Abruptly he loosened his grip and let him go, returning his hand to the pommel of his sword.

"Well then, you have my curiosity, if nothing else, for what master be there to tempt Edward from his dreams of freedom? You had best be welcome, assuming I like what you have to say."

His cabin was an unexpectedly large room, grandly furnished but unlit, and for all the opulence he had no care for it, leaving it scattered about like so much clutter interspaced with broken glass and empty rum bottles. The scope of his success interested him, but not the wealth, not the trappings. He sat on a chair behind a desk, and lifted a fresh bottle of rum, pulling out the cork with his teeth, and offering it to Edward.

Avery
"Ha! We'll be long gone before he has the chance!" Avery replied with an encouraging smile, his boundless optimism as restoring as a full nights sleep. Again failing to notice the hopelessly enamored looks the countess was giving him beneath her long eyelashes, he led the way, running as quickly as he could risk in the dark, Inigo bringing up the rear, sword still drawn, face alight with concentration, expecting any moment to be fighting a delaying action against more of the guards. And so it was Inigo who was shot.

A musket pistol is not an accurate weapon at a great range. Even at a distance of sixty meters it is unreliable. And Inigo had pushed himself to such a point of perfection he seemed able to react without consciously being aware of the dangers. But Even Inigo was not faster then a bullet. The second creased his skull, cutting a flap of skin loose and making him stagger, then the other took him in the upper thigh, punching a hole to the bone. He swayed, remaining upright for a moment, and would have collapsed if Avery hadn't turned and steadied him, having to catch him and hold his weight as Inigo slipped into unconsciousness.

"Shooting a man in the back." He said, eyes flashing dangerously. There was barely room in the cramped confines of the tunnel to draw his sword, so he took Inigo's and held it steady, the point leveled squarely at chest of the advancing Pirate-Hunter. "You are the worst sort of cad, bounder and poltroon."

"Get out of the tunnel. I'll meet you soon." He told the countess out of the corner of his mouth, his attention perfectly fixed by the advancing figure. The tunnel made things serious. There was no room for flourishes, fancy footwork or strategy, just the parry-thrust-lunge of rapiers. He'd have to make a clean kill, or his opponent would very probably take him with him.

He could do that. He lay Inigo down gently, then stepped over him. If he won, he'd carry him out. If not, well perhaps the Spaniard would survive anyway. Removing his rings, he threw them up in the air, spinning, then impaled the three of them on his flourished blade, like the Duke of Monmouth. Not easy. "Get over here so I can kill you. Unless you prefer to cower."

PurityIcekiller

2013-12-07, 11:27 PM

[Hooks And Crooks]

Pipsqueak stopped to wave back at the strange waving figure before turning his attention back to the chase.

"Hey, cap'n! Are they supposed to be doing that?"

darkblade

2013-12-08, 12:56 PM

Blackbeard

Kenway sighs with relief as you recognize him. His face twists from anger to concern. "What happened to you? You were dead. I watched them kill you. At first I thought it was voodoo like those things you call your crew but they're mindless brutes."

***

Barbosa

Indeed their is a young woman, trying to force her way through the window. Her dress has caught in several places along the panes trapping her. Unable to turn around she still hears you coming. "Who's there?"

Hanging from a chain around her neck is the last piece of cursed gold.

***

Popeye

The swordsman catches the sword mid-air. "You're strong. I'm impressed."

He flips a switch on the bottom of the sword and tries to bring it down on you, fortunately the phantom swords following seem to have disappeared and you are only facing down one blade.

AnimeKid

2013-12-08, 01:20 PM

As the bug woman runs off Luffy turns to the now rescued woman with a manic grin on his face. Pumping his fist and placing a hand on one of his biceps he says, "Don't worry! She's gone now. Now then, you wouldn't anything to eat would you? Perferably Meat!"

Aric Kale

2013-12-08, 01:57 PM

Barbossa

The pirate points his pistol at the back of her head. Captain Barbossa, of the Black Pearl, missy. And who are you? He eyes the medallion greedily, it should be obvious to see what he wants. He could shoot her now, but if she was the spawn of Bootstrap Bill...

ThePhantom

2013-12-08, 03:52 PM

Popeye

Popeye rolls to the left, swordplay is not his finest skill and blocking a blade with his hands isn't a good idea usually.

"Weppon please!"

He requests of his crew, and one of them slides a sword to their troubled captain. He grabs it and prepares to defend himself.

Cracklord

2013-12-08, 04:27 PM

Blackbeard
"Most of 'em. Still a few men about, Larsen and suchlike." Blackbeard said carelessly, removing his swordbelt and coat, and tossing them aside carelessly, then doing the same with his gunbelt. He was as tall and broad as you remember, yet he seemed smaller without his accruements, reduced in some indefinable way, though the sinister quality remained. One hand stroked his beard, an old habit when he was thinking, his sea-weathered face above it contemplative and hard.

"Aye. Ten years past they trapped me and 'The adventure' at a little cove named Ocracoke, and set upon us from all sides. Killed me crew, shot me five times and stabbed me again and again, then cut off my head and threw me body over the side, all I'd learned of magic nothing like enough to keep me animated. I was dead, Edward. As sure as any I killed, I was dead. But that's not the end of things, not always." His voice was low, and rough, he sounded a little more like his old self. There was something unstable about him, since he came back, or so Edward had noticed, something that had rejected reason for madness, and seemed to delight in death and murder of all stripes.

"As for coming back, I won't speak of that. Not here. Not now. But it wasn't my doing, that much I'll say." He took a long gulp of the Rum, seeming to use it to regain fortitude, then handed it to Edward. "Yourself? You never joined the Bretheren, exchanging one king for another as you called it, what of your plans to build a new kingdom at Nassau? From your speech and dress, you found a master afterall."

The Tygre

2013-12-08, 06:27 PM

Nemo

Nemo raises his eyebrow, "You say that now. But I imagine that is not for one such as you to decide. Perhaps it is that your city will stay neutral. But for how long will Britain? Or do you believe that yours would be the first empire they conquered and called 'savage'? When that day comes, when their bloody cross rises over the horizon, I wonder how your 'neutrality' will protect you? Or perhaps it is that you do not see any harm under their flag, and will submit to the Empire. I suppose that would be the natural course of events; the first wave comes, and the tide shows whose house was built from solid rock and whose was built from sinking sand."

Hattish Thing

2013-12-09, 02:05 AM

Avery[/b]
"Ha! We'll be long gone before he has the chance!" Avery replied with an encouraging smile, his boundless optimism as restoring as a full nights sleep. Again failing to notice the hopelessly enamored looks the countess was giving him beneath her long eyelashes, he led the way, running as quickly as he could risk in the dark, Inigo bringing up the rear, sword still drawn, face alight with concentration, expecting any moment to be fighting a delaying action against more of the guards. And so it was Inigo who was shot.

A musket pistol is not an accurate weapon at a great range. Even at a distance of sixty meters it is unreliable. And Inigo had pushed himself to such a point of perfection he seemed able to react without consciously being aware of the dangers. But Even Inigo was not faster then a bullet. The second creased his skull, cutting a flap of skin loose and making him stagger, then the other took him in the upper thigh, punching a hole to the bone. He swayed, remaining upright for a moment, and would have collapsed if Avery hadn't turned and steadied him, having to catch him and hold his weight as Inigo slipped into unconsciousness.

"Shooting a man in the back." He said, eyes flashing dangerously. There was barely room in the cramped confines of the tunnel to draw his sword, so he took Inigo's and held it steady, the point leveled squarely at chest of the advancing Pirate-Hunter. "You are the worst sort of cad, bounder and poltroon."

"Get out of the tunnel. I'll meet you soon." He told the countess out of the corner of his mouth, his attention perfectly fixed by the advancing figure. The tunnel made things serious. There was no room for flourishes, fancy footwork or strategy, just the parry-thrust-lunge of rapiers. He'd have to make a clean kill, or his opponent would very probably take him with him.

He could do that. He lay Inigo down gently, then stepped over him. If he won, he'd carry him out. If not, well perhaps the Spaniard would survive anyway. Removing his rings, he threw them up in the air, spinning, then impaled the three of them on his flourished blade, like the Duke of Monmouth. Not easy. "Get over here so I can kill you. Unless you prefer to cower."

Kidd simply rolls his eyes at the clearly idiotic pirate. No pirate was bound under any sort of moral code, no matter what they said. Pirates were criminals, and evil at that. All of them. And he was willing to go to any measure possible to destroy such filth from her Majesties waters. It was all how it should be, and should always be. Scum gets cleaned.

As soon as the man laid Inigo down, Kidd fires at him again and again after reloading with his usual practiced speed. Obviously he cares nothing for any sort of silly honors code. If it got the job done, than it got the job done. That's all that mattered. He'll get about four well placed bullets out before he throws his pistols to the floor and takes out his shining rapier.... He aims it forward and speaks now. My preferences are irrelevant, scum. I work with efficiency. I will shoot or stab or beat you down, then I will shoot your Spaniard in the head. We don't take kindly to common thieves. Even thieves with such extravagant motions.

doliest

2013-12-09, 05:45 AM

Davy Jones
That discordant melody...it continued. The counterpoint song of Dragonspawn and Moonchild had been broken, returned to their rightful tunes...and yet....

He whirls around, marching back to his cabin to sort out this...stirring. He spares a glance to his new 'moonchildren' crew-members. His irritation with this stirring is quieted for a moment by the thought of how long it will take them to realize that none of his crew had started out like they were. The cruel smirk returns as he imagines their worries and wails. Always a comforting notion, that others could know his misery.

Misery. His...he turns rapidly, or at least as rapidly as his form allows. Gesturing for the moonchild who had been most willing to join his crew, Boy! What was aboard those ships- yours, and the one ye' wer' so eager to raid!? A bad feeling...feelings at all...no. No, couldn't be. He turns his eyes to view them, readying to move himself immediately aboard the damaged trading vessel.

Cracklord

2013-12-09, 07:01 AM

Avery
"That's going to be a problem. I only know how to win." A wiser part of Avery was aware there was something amiss here. He was an officer in the Royal Navy, and furthermore had a privateer license, so there had to have been some manner of mix-up. A reasonable part of him, that had gotten him into trouble innumerable times, urged him to offer parley, and reason it out, however, for once, it did not win over. The man had shot his close friend in the back, and was currently staying with a Spanish Nobleman of the basest sort. Doubtless the man was a traitor, perhaps even in the pocket of the French. And even if it was a misunderstanding, he doubted Kidd was the reasoning sort. All this flashed through his mind as he sees Kidd lowering the gun and, guessing his opponent's intentions, he charged.

Kidd managed to get off his first shot, but there wasn't time to reload again as Avery had thrown caution to the winds and charged, and time was against him. The shot hit Avery in the right shoulder as he charges, making the Captain grimace and switch hands. He's not ambidextrous, with his left hand he'll be at a considerable disadvantage, but he won't be able to fight with his right after receiving a bullet wound.

He took the time to salute the Pirate hunter with his thin Damascene steel epee, the finger rings rattling on the blade as he did so, then caught the opening thrust and skillfully turned it aside. Avery, despite his handicap, moved with sublime grace and accuracy, the two blades wheeling and glittering in the low murk, too fast for the eye to follow, dancing with a life of their own in an aerial pas de deux and seeking holes in the others defenses. Avery smiled as he noted a hole in his opponents defense, feinting then sending the tip of his sword towards his opponents upper arm. He drew it back, then counter-stroked, swinging his blade at the older mans forehead. There was no room to maneuver or for footwork, such were the confines of the tunnel. But for the sway of their torsos, they might as well have been immobilized as they jabbed and slashed. But Avery was younger, a shade quicker and bolder, and his sword was a fraction longer, which made all the difference. Avery fought dynamically, concentrating on the offensive. He was bleeding heavily from the wound in his shoulder, and the superficial cuts he'd taken in the earlier fight, and fatigue would set in soon. He had to win before he lost too much, and his powers ebbed sufficiently to weaken him.

"My niece could best you. Don't let that undermine your confidence, she is skilled for a five year old." He taunted, the genuine laughter in his voice making his mockery all the more cutting. Because despite everything, Avery is having a great time.

darkblade

2013-12-09, 12:45 PM

Davy Jones

"They were opium peddlers, exploiting our Indian kin. We just sought justice." The Moonchild explained. No the disturbance wasn't from the Benders nor from the Tea barons.

Now that you think of it the feeling isn't one of the sea. It's a sensation you haven't felt in centuries, something is happening to your heart.

***

Nemo

"My predecessor held them off before." She gestures to the large statue of the old Air Nomad, revealing herself to be the current Avatar, master of all four elements. "I'll do it again if they try."

You hear Ishmael calling to you from a lower dock closer to the ship. The girl wanders off on her own, leaving you.

***

Blackbeard

"Armada didn't take well to the competition. The whole town was burnt to the ground while I was out at sea." Kenway explained.

"The brotherhood offered me something I couldn't refuse. A chance at revenge on the Empire and Pirate Lords."

***

Popeye

The swordsman scoffs and draws a pistol from within his coat and shoots it at your sword arm. Evidently he has no interest in fighting fairly.

((Eat some damn spinach already!))

***

Luffy

"No, I'm sorry." She confesses but she does pull out a small bag of coins.

"Take these, it should buy you a nice meal." She then wanders off leaving you with the coin purse. Inside the coins are weirdly stamped, emblazoned with a skull and littered in strange words you can't read. Still they are solid gold, that'll buy you some food."

Cracklord

2013-12-09, 05:43 PM

Blackbeard
He finished the bottle, then opened another. Even by his standards, that's three in the hour you've been watching him, and probably more before that. He's drinking like a man with a lot to forget, or just one thing he needs to keep from his mind, to drown in drink and forgetting.

"I said once we could have been heroes. But heroes are more then the likes of you or me. We'll both have to settle for becoming Legends." He said, his voice heavy with something like regret. He was drunk enough not to watch his words, to speak as carelessly and honestly as he once had. "But that's for later. For now, what is this offer you be so keen to make?"

ThePhantom

2013-12-09, 07:28 PM

Popeye

Don't you know that Popeye never opens a fight with spinach? It wouldn't be sporting.

Anyways, the bullet hits his arm and bounces off. Bullets aren't doing to do much to Popeye. Now, he stands back up, and swings his sword at the swordman.

Draxx

2013-12-09, 10:05 PM

Hook
Hook smiled like a wolf, eyes dancing with pleasure, and nodded encouragingly to his newest pirate. Hook was a corrupting influence, he could work almost anybody if given sufficient motivation, and for all that he treated his actual crew as disposable and murdered them at little if any provocation, he was still very able to all but seduce people into following him into a life of Piracy. And truly, it did him good to see a lad so young so taken with it. Besides, he'd never sailed the waters of Equestria before, and the little pony here might just be the key he needed to unlock that door and lead him onto those waters. "Fear does strange things to a mans mind, matey." He said conspiratorially, winking as he did. "And there isn't a sight so fearsome as The Jolly Roger, you can count on that."

Then he returned to the chase, his hands strong on the wheels spokes, so that he came into direct contact with the living essence of the Jolly Roger, the vibration beneath his palm, something between a sound and a flow coming straight up her rudder, and joining with the innumerable rhythms, the creak and humming of the hull and the rigging. The keen wind and spray swept on his left cheek, and as he bore on the helm so the ship answered, closer and closer to the wind.

"Fire again." he commanded, when he judged the moment right, and the Bosun Starkey moved to do so, 'Long Tom' making the entire ship rock with recoil as the huge shot flew out, straight and true, aimed to hole the hull beneath the engines.

Hattish Thing

2013-12-09, 10:35 PM

Cracklord

2013-12-10, 12:31 AM

Hattish Thing

2013-12-10, 02:05 AM

Avery
"At least in a dark cell I wouldn't be able to see your face." He replied, warming to his subject, then winces as the rapier is driven into his foot, going clean through his boot, through his flesh and out the other side. He sways, barely keeping his balance, but he's alert enough to notice Kidd's fist, and being unable to avoid it given the narrow confines of the tunnel and the face his left foot might as well be nailed to the slick stone floor of the tunnel, he goes against every lesson his instructors drilled into his head, and clumsily turns his sword, catching the fist with the blade of his rapier. He then strikes at Kidd's sword hand, hoping to disarm him, and thereby leave him largely defenseless and at his mercy. Of course, he'll be badly injured and in no shape to help Inigo, in a tunnel pursued by guards that could be flooded at any moment, but perhaps he could take the Traitor hostage. Perhaps even use his ship to escape. It was just a matter of turning a situation to your advantage.

Avery is riding an andrenaline high. His senses are sharp, his reflexes never better, and his pain nothing but a dull fog that he's aware of in the same manner that he was aware of the moon, it was big, it was there, you couldn't miss it, but it didn't effect him very much. But the blood-loss is beginning to tell.

Kidd had never heard of this man. Usually the kind of pain that Kidd just caused Avery had other pirates on the ground, mewling, to reach their end with a bang, a jolt, and a dull lead ball. This man was pinned though, which meant he was nearly defenseless. Oooh. That punch. Bad decision, yup. Very bad. Kidd's fist slices down to his palm, completely in two. Kidd looks down in shock and falls down to the ground, his hand bleeding out.

Seeing as Kidd has fallen to the floor, he let go of the sword impaling Avery. It seems that Kidd is at Avery's mercy. However, in one last move, he reaches for the pistol that was dropped before and quickly fires, aiming to kill Avery before the pirate surely killed him. He utters no words, for he's too busy clenching his teeth in burning pain.

Cracklord

2013-12-10, 02:56 AM

Hattish Thing

2013-12-10, 03:06 AM

Avery
Avery stood over the pirate, bleeding from a score of wounds. Mostly scratches sustained in the duel, but two of the injuries were serious enough to be crippling. Nonetheless, he had won, for what it was worth, and the man was at his mercy. Which settled it, as far as the Captain was concerned. He couldn't kill a helpless man, even if the man had been doing his very best to kill him a moment ago. It would be dishonorable to the extreme, hardly befitting a gentleman. He lowered his sword, then used his good arm to take his weight against the wall of the tunnel, utterly spent. He lacked even the energy to complete his collapse, slumped and exhausted beyond reason, but with a Herculian exertion he managed, by degrees, to turn his head slowly, glancing back to see whether the Countess had gotten Inigo clear yet. Which is why he was facing away from Kidd when he heard the sound of a hammer ****, as a pistol was primed and made ready to fire.

A feeling of helplessness welled in him then. There was nothing left, no final way to continue the fight. He couldn't even stand, which seemed disappointing, but he resolved to at least make a good show of it. "Tell your Spanish masters they won't profit from your treachery." He said, the defiance in his voice at odds with his earlier humor, then closed his eyes and waited to feel the bullet.

The bullet was aimed expertly to clip the man's temple. Not killing him, no. That was for common bilge rats and scum. However, the bullet would dig deep into the man's scalp, most likely instantly knocking Avery out. The only lasting damage to Avery would be that terrible leg injury, and the most likely loss of his right ear and hearing in said ear. The bullet flies towards him, hopefully hitting exactly where it's wounded owner had aimed.

Regardless of the outcome, Kidd finally looks down to his hand. Oh dear god. His hand was in two. Two pieces... just hanging there... Bone broken, sinew hanging limply, blood dripping out. There was no real way to recover from this injury with the technology presented in this time. An injury like this almost always required the wounded appendage to be severed and to simply apply a prosthetic to the missing limb. He didn't know what would happen, only that he needed a doctor very quickly. He struggles to get up, and quickly moves to take the Spaniard's and Ben Avery's weapons.

He'll rush upstairs to his room (Not far away at all) and place the weapons in his trunk, pulling out some rope, and wrapping his hand in a blanket. He rushes back down and moves to tie the fallen pirates hands together. However, obviously he's now not seeing straight. Tis difficult to tie.

Luckily, several soldiers come bustling in, finally having arrived at the scene. Kidd instructs them. Pirates... Sound the alarm. Tie the pirates away, and into a cell. Doctor. Please.... He'll lie on the ground now, slumped against the wall.

Cracklord

2013-12-10, 03:12 AM

Hattish Thing

2013-12-10, 03:19 AM

Avery
The bullet knocks Avery from his precarious position slumped against the wall, and he collapses face down in the tunnel, completely insensate. It's impossible to tell if he's alive or dead without getting closer and checking, but your shot seemed good.

The soldiers move out, leaving only two guards left behind. One guard moves to check for pulses on the fallen pirates, and if the pulses are positive, he'll tie the figures up and slump them against the wall. He'll wait there, sword drawn.

The other moves to help Kidd up, and to help the gravely wounded Pirate Hunter move away from the tunnel, to go find a doctor.

(I think Darkblade is to post now.)

darkblade

2013-12-10, 11:44 AM

Barbosa

The girl turns around to face you. "I'm Elizabeth Swan, the governor's daughter."

Apparently not Bootstrap's kid. In her hands she is holding a crumpled letter.

***

Avery and Kidd

Without even bothering to check Avery's vitals (men who voluntary eat something called 'Devil's Fruit' for their country tend not to be smart men) the guards pick up the three of you and drop you in the yard.

Once dropped, a doctor examines Kidd's hand. "We can put it back together but it'll never be the same. Of course their are alternatives..."

He is of course referring to bio-thaumaturgery. An arcane science generally frowned upon due to it's unnatural nature. Through it's use they can build you a new hand or steal one from some poor unsuspecting creature. You'll be a freak of nature but your capacity to battle pirates will not suffer, if anything it will be enhanced.

Meanwhile a less qualified medic checks Avery and Innigo's vitals, trying to asses the extent of their injuries.

***

Popeye

Blade and bullet deflected the swordsman backs off a little to better asses you. He evidently did not expect you to be such a worthy opponent. "Who are you?"

***

Blackbeard

"I can't tell you anything about the Order." Kenway says, his own glass untouched. For all his comradely he seems content to let you drink yourself into a stupor while he keeps his wits about himself.

"The Empire is under the control of the Templars. I've seen things that would make even you sick these last few years. Marines cursed to never die, ancient sea beasts bound to ships, and don't even get me started on what they are doing in Australia. I need to know that it wasn't them that brought you back."

***

Hook and Haddock

If the two of you continue to sail on the same course you'll be coming into large formation of jagged rocks. Haddock's small vessel could with some effort make it through but there is no way that the Jolly Roger could even dream of keeping chase on sea.

Aric Kale

2013-12-10, 12:50 PM

Barbossa

What a pity. Tell me Miss Swan, do ye know any man or woman by the name've Turner? He takes a slow step forward, his pistol still trained to the maiden's head.

ThePhantom

2013-12-10, 03:42 PM

Popeye

"I yam what I yam, I'm Popeye the sailor man"

Popeye adjusts his pipe in his mouth, and puts his sword in a defensive position. After all, he's not a good swordman, but he does know enough to protect himself.

Draxx

2013-12-10, 05:09 PM

Rocheforte
An enormous vessel berthed in the skies above Cittigaze, the colors of France and the Cross of Rome proudly snapping in the wind from it's mast. It was an enormous sleek thing, like an enormous shark that hung in the air unsupported, bobbing up and down in the shifting air. On the deck stood a tall man from Meung, lean and rangy, supple as a leopard and carved of ice and steel. He looked to be around forty, dark of hair and beard, with a scar across his cheek. His right eye had been lost in some long past fight, and his hand rested lightly on the hilt of his long, slim rapier.

His face was lean, cruel and predatory, and his remaining eye danced and glittered darkly with a kind of reckless mockery. He carried himself with the utter assurance of command and his own capability. He was dressed with a wide-brimmed leather slouch-hat set with plumes, and a long cloak thrown carelessly over one shoulder. At his belt were two exquisite flintlocks. He wore a finely-tailored jacket and hardwearing boots. It was all plain, understated and utilitarian, without decoration save for the cross of Malta that all the Guards of the Cardinal wore, but any man of the world could see at a glance how expensive it was. It's cut was comfortable, formidable, but above all thinks, practical. It did not impede his movements in the slightest, and beside him, even the most formidable warriors among the guard such as Febre looked as callow as milkmaids.

He nodded to Jussac, his aide who rolled down the ladder as the ship lowered, until it hovered barely a few feet above the roofs of the city below, and with easy agility Rocheforte climbed down, alighting on the cobblestones and straightening his heavy cape as he did so. at his back, three score of his men followed, an inspiring sight in their ornamental breastplates and with long halberds.

"I am expected" He said curtly, his voice deep and powerful, that curdled the blood of the men listening. "If you could direct me to the Don?"

Hattish Thing

2013-12-10, 05:17 PM

Avery and Kidd

Without even bothering to check Avery's vitals (men who voluntary eat something called 'Devil's Fruit' for their country tend not to be smart men) the guards pick up the three of you and drop you in the yard.

Once dropped, a doctor examines Kidd's hand. "We can put it back together but it'll never be the same. Of course their are alternatives..."

He is of course referring to bio-thaumaturgery. An arcane science generally frowned upon due to it's unnatural nature. Through it's use they can build you a new hand or steal one from some poor unsuspecting creature. You'll be a freak of nature but your capacity to battle pirates will not suffer, if anything it will be enhanced.

Meanwhile a less qualified medic checks Avery and Innigo's vitals, trying to asses the extent of their injuries.

Captain Kidd lies there and nods a bit at the doctor. I... yes. Of course. Sure... It... Gah, it hurts. ****. Is there any way to just get it done and over with? A prosthetic seems to be the only way to go. Is it possible to have it over with today? I'll.. ugh... need to get used to the thing... Please. First just stop the bleeding, I'm seeing funny...

Grif

2013-12-11, 05:41 AM

Hook and Haddock

If the two of you continue to sail on the same course you'll be coming into large formation of jagged rocks. Haddock's small vessel could with some effort make it through but there is no way that the Jolly Roger could even dream of keeping chase on sea.

"Barbarians! Bashi-bazaouks! Boorless whales! Brutes!" Haddock continued to shout at the wooden vessel as his newly promoted first mate, Cutler, and a fellow sailor tried to drag the captain back to the bridge.

"Captain, they're firing again!" Cutler warned, just as they reached the bridge.

"Well, don't just—" The trio stumbled as the ship shook from the impact. With creeping horror, Captain Haddock quickly scrambled to his feet, as the Karaboudjan began to list ever so slightly to the left. He pounded the speaking tube. "Report!"

The sound of shouting, omnious creaking and the dreaded sound of water rushing in filled the tube. "Captain! The port boiler room been hit! We're sealing the room!"

"Lily-livered landlubbers!" He turned towards Simmons. The lad seemed white with fear, his pale blue eyes straying towards the flag of the Jolly Roger. "Simmons! Straight ahead, into those rocks."

"B-B-But Captain!"

"Do it Simmons! We're not done yet!"

The injured merchant ship began to slow, yawing slightly to the left as it pressed forward, towards the jagged rocks ahead, heedless of the danger.

Cracklord

2013-12-11, 06:36 AM

Avery
The cell was small, built to accommodate one man, and not comfortably at that. It felt cramped and tight between the two of them. For all that, Avery might have been the Lord of the Castle from his manner, instead of a condemned man tossed here by the winds of adversity and misfortune to await his death. Tilted back, he stared up at the ceiling as best he could make out.

His vision was blurry and indistinct, his thoughts were slow to arrive and slower still to reach connections that had once seemed obvious, and he worried the bullet to the head hadn't rattled his brains. With luck, it would pass, although luck was something he had been without these last days. The ache in his foot and shoulder had dulled somewhat, but flared with fresh agony at every thoughtless twitch. The damage was not permanent in either case, at least should a good physician see to them. Unfortunately, while they had been bound to keep him from bleeding to death, little further treatment had been taken. No reason to waste effort on condemned men, afterall.

In a perfect world, they would wait and recover, give their bodies the time they needed to replenish themselves and heal. But that wasn't possible here, The Don would force The Countess to marry him soon, perhaps even tonight, and on the morrow, at Dawn, he and Inigo would be hung as pirates. Neither of them was in any shape worth mentioning, for a good hour or so Avery had feared Inigo could not be roused at all. A fine pair they made, perhaps one complete swordsman between them. But they were all they had.

Their weapons had been taken, as had their rings, Avery's purse, and the bulk of their clothes, leaving them nothing with which to take about their escape. If they even had a wheelbarrow it would be something.

Fatalism did not come easy to Avery. He was by nature given to action, no matter how hopeless, but even his tireless optimism found itself trapped. Feeling suddenly very alone, Avery did the thing that felt natural. He sang. Avery had a fine, clear voice, and could hold a tune tolerably well, though it was never a talent he had fostered with any particular care or effort, and the only song that came to mind was a sea shanty the enlisted men had sung.

"Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;
For we've received orders for to sail for old England
And we may never see you fair ladies again"

"We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll range and we'll roam all on the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues"

"Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor
And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!"

He trailed off there, thoughtfully, then glanced at Inigo again. The Spaniard, being in better shape, in comparison at least, had gotten unsteadily to his feet, and was gazing out the barred window, and had been gazing up at the sky. For a moment, he had registered shock and disbelief, then a terrible change came over him, his eyes bulging in their sockets, the muscles at his jaw bunching painfully and his limbs shaking like a prize horse straining at the tether. Then, without ceremony or explanation, he turned and charged the door, getting what run-up the tiny cell allowed. He slammed and slammed his shoulder, but Inigo was thin, and the door was not. It didn't budge.

AnimeKid

2013-12-11, 05:51 PM

Luffy

Luffy looked at the gold coins after thanking the woman. Unfortunately he couldn't really use these to buy him some food. Nami really didn't like him spending or having money on him. Something about him wiping out their budget on food. Shoving the gold coins into his pocket he rubbed his head before deciding that spending one of the gold coins wouldn't hurt. After all as long as he brought some back Nami would be perfectly happy. Heading to the tavern Luffy pulled out one of the gold coins and asked for however much it was worth in meat. It was chow time!

The Tygre

2013-12-12, 10:03 PM

Nemo

"Hrmph. So that was the Avatar... I suppose even the gods can make mistakes." Nemo walks off himself, following the sound of his first-mate's voice. He keeps an eye open for the hunch-backed old salt and his familiar pipe as he scans the lower decks.

Corvond

2013-12-12, 11:53 PM

Hornblower
"Ah." Hornblower said, inclining his head. He seems as clumsy and dim on land as he is adroit and notable at sea. "The British cannot afford a war with the Orient in addition to all the fronts our efforts are already directed upon."

He paused, thinking about the problem, then got thoughtfully to his feet. "In that case, I may have to requisition another Ship. The Indefatigable is a fine and worthy vessel, and I would match her against any dozen of the French or the Spanish, but on a run like this she would be something of a liability. May I requisition a Frigate?"

Sharpe
"I'll inform the men." Sharpe said shortly, drawing himself to attention and saluting, then held position, waiting to be dismissed. He felt foolish. He was glad that none of his men could see him now. It was all nonsense, of course, ridiculous nonsense, but he couldn't help but feel nervous. He had spent the entire time wishing he was not here, wishing he was anywhere but this stinking, overheated room.

He had dressed up for the occasion, taking the wreath badge from his old jacket, and insisted that the tailor sew it onto his new uniform. It felt odd to be dressed so finely, his waist circled by a tasseled red sash and his shoulder-wings bright with the stars of his rank. This meeting had cost him fifty guineas already. His uniform was mostly new, though he retained his Baker Rifle, his cheap heavy cavalry sword in its battered scabbard, and the boots he'd taken from a Colonel in Napoleon's Imperial Guard, which were comfortable and well broken in. He was a soldier, and even if over here the army were part bankers, past post office and part moneylenders he would conduct himself in the appropriate manner. By god, he wished he was back at Spain. He wished he was facing a crack battalion of French Veterans then enduring this bureaucratic ordeal.

Sharpe was beginning to feel sullen and rebellious, angry at this charade, wondering what would happen if he simply turned and walked away from this place. But he was here for a purpose, and he couldn't afford any more enemies, so he endured it, as out of place as he felt, like a bedraggled fighting **** that had somehow found it's way into a Peacock's den.

Draxx

2013-12-13, 01:01 AM

Captain Hook
The wind had freshened, and the ship lurched. She was riding under bare poles but for tops'ls. The cut of the wind stopped his mind from wandering and focused it upon his prey, and the Captain tasted the wind and looked at the spires of the reef on the starboard quarter, and the splash of color that gave hint to his experienced eyes of a standing shelf. Threatening outcrops, and his ship was far too low in the water and wide to make his way though them. They could loose him in the shoals, and his ship was still too distant to cut them off.

"Ready all hands to board." He said, adjusting his hook so that it gleamed with a wicked light, then loosening his Spanish Blade within it's scabbard. It was a slender ribbon of watered steel curved in a thirty-degree arc, with straight quillons and a wire-wrapped pommel. It was still in its enamelled silver scabbard, and had never let him down, not when he was cast from Eton for killing a boy in a duel over a lady, nor in the King's Navy, when he had stood upon countless burning decks before he'd taken a ship for himself and hoisted the Black Flag, many years ago now. "It seems they prefer discretion to valor, so as I see it we had best disavow them of the notion."

Rocheforte
Jussac took command, readying the ship for takeoff even though his master would doubtless be hours, if he didn't stay the night. Jussac was unnecessarily handsome and miraculously unscarred, his complexion fair and his hair finely spun gold, as if to counter his dark eyes. His long, fine straight hair fell like a veil down the sides of his cheeks, and the cross of Malta, the symbol of Cardinal Richleu was proudly displayed on his tabard.

The company was already gathering around the airship, running repairs or loading victuals under the direction of Junio, the quartermaster. Four men had stripped off their shirts, given the heat, and were parbuckling kegs of water, oil and beer up the side of the ship, using a rope over a bitt. Up on one of the yards, the sailmaker was hard at work with his needle, fid and seam rubber. Jussac’s eye drifted along to the head of the Rumour and the figure there, painted gold, a skeleton in a kingly crown, with a scythe clutched in one hand, and a cross in the other. The symbolism was not lost on him, the workers and the church united by the death of the Monarchists.

Jussac had always been a supporter of the nobility, though he could in no way count himself among their number. He had served on the guard of Queen Jessamine Kaldwin before the cardinal, and as always felt sad when he thought of her, and the tragic waste her death had been. She could have saved France, he truly believed in. Now, in place of a Queen they had an emperor, but the only true ruler they could claim was the guillotine, that ruled through both the Jacobians and the Royalists.

It seemed it let slip only those who could bring it more victims, like the vessels captain, his erstwhile master.

Long ago, Cardinal Richleu had been so impressed by the unorthodox ways in which he (Rocheforte) had escaped a predicament, by his ability to adapt and survive in any situation, and by his utter disregard for what respectable men might call right and wrong, that he had decided to make him his agent, whether he wished it or not. Rocheforte was an exceptional swordsman, better then him, a claim only five men that he knew of could hope to make, but the man had no honor. He'd cut down a callow youth from horseback or shoot an unarmed man without a thought, suitable for dog-soldiers with no honor to lose perhaps, but officers should conduct themselves better. And he was offended that his master seemed to delight in doing the opposite.

Rocheforte, for his part, was untroubled by such musings. His inner-workings were a mystery to him, his way was to act, singly and decisively, not to dwell or consider. He regarded the city with the same steady gaze as the raptors which circled overhead.

The sun had been up for three hours, and a breathless heat lay upon the harbour side. Beyond the immense stone quay, an ancient structure built many years ago when they had ships enough to fill it, the tiled
roofs of Cittigaze rose in banks and clusters up the hillside. Stucco plaster gleamed white in the sunlight, alongside mouldering grey stonework and antique timber frames. The port was a patchwork city, sewn together by many different cultures at many different times. It was as if the buildings had been looted from all over the world, and piled here together to fade and rot. A plundered city. It seemed appropriate.

Such a soft country, trapped by faded glories now long gone, and they thought to challenge the might of France. And France would do as it did. How could it do otherwise, when France had designs upon the same thing; to command the sea, to control all trade routes, to dominate the colonies and to strangle England, and so to rule the world unchallenged. Though Spain was hardly of consideration.

Febre walked behind him in a lazy stroll, heavy dark cloak thrown over his broad shoulders despite the heat, and his slouch hat brought low. He was enormous, with a forked black goatee and a thick mane of curly, greying hair tied back in a pigtail. When he and Rocheforte had fought together long ago in the King's Wars, back when France had a King, he had been fleshy, with an increasing thickness and a distinct paunch brought on by the good living his wealth afforded. There was not an ounce of fat on him now. He looked lean, pinched, hungry, and somehow that emphasised the scale and breadth of his naturally big frame. His eyes, however, had never changed, and were just as they had always been, cannonball grey.

Febre was not reliable and made a poor second, he was a rabid dog in need of the firm hand of a master. He wasn't even loyal, not truly, though he respected and feared Rocheforte, and that if nothing else kept him in line. Left to himself he would kill and pillage at will, like the atavist barbarian he resembled, until someone stronger killed him. Rocheforte supposed he should have killed him long ago when he first began to become a liability, but he hadn't, out of what passed for sentimentality. The man was his brother, afterall.

His contempt for the city was difficult to place. It had something to do with the smell, he thought: the first faint stirrings of the ocean breeze had started to stir through the miasma of sewage and mouldering plaster. It was the smell of a city in decay, it's pride a thing of the past, like an old courtesan who applied paint to her face to cover her pockmarks. "Nevermind, I'll find my own way." He told the watchman in French uncaring if he understood or not, brushing past him and heading towards the castle, where Don Lardo lived at present. Richleu had signaled the man out as sufficiently corruptible for their purposes, and Rocheforte would deal with him.

darkblade

2013-12-14, 04:38 PM

Rocheforte

You are lead through Lardo's estate up to his private quarters on the uppermost floor over looking the ruins that up until an hour or so ago had been his courtyard. As you enter you see him sitting at a desk going over some documents. The moment he sees you he shoves them into a drawer and swallows slightly. "Rocheforte. What a surprise."

***

Horneblower

"Of course. You can have your pick of ship, just as long as you set sail by dawn tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me I have other business to attend to." He gestures towards the doors, evidently telling you to be on your way.

***

Sharpe

The crew had taken the chance away from their officers to head into a run down dockside gambling den. The air was thick with the scent of opium and more exotic narcotics.

As you walk in a pair of your shipmates makes themselves known by drawing a saber over a card table. "You cheating snake. Five hands in a row!"

This can't possibly go well for anyone.

***

Nemo

Ishmael stood overseeing several craftsmen tinkering with the inner workings of your great vessel. When he notices your presence he turns away from the workers. "That Kraken crushed the main boiler and cracked several key pipes. Sato's men say she can be seaworthy by tomorrow if we let them work overnight but it'll mean finding lodgings in town for the crew."

***

Avery

As you sing the Countess makes her way down the dungeon, to much slanderous cat calling from the other prisoners. She stops at your cell and waves the keys. "We must hurry, Lardo is busy with Rocheforte but they'll be done soon."

***

Luffy

The barkeep takes the coin and looks it over before tossing it back and laughing. "I'd put that coin back where you found it and hope your soul is still your own kid."

***

Kidd

The doctor wraps your injured hand in bandages so tight you can feel your pulse through them. The guards escort you to an infirmary and allow the doctor to get a look at the limb in better conditions.

He removed the bandage and dragged a piece of white hot steel across the wound. The bleeding has stopped but the pain has increased ten fold. This does not seem to have occurred to him though as he leads into a series of questions to best find your replacement hand. "Was that your dominant hand, sir?"

***

Popeye

The swordsman flips the switch again and swings the blade. An impossible flurry of phantom blades, impossibly all real sail through the air some will be stopped by your block but no sword can cover that many angles all at once.

***

Barbossa

"Will Turner..." She says pulling the letter closer. "They took him months ago though. He's long gone."

ThePhantom

2013-12-14, 06:23 PM

Popeye

Ouch, Popeye starts bleeding from all those cuts that result from the phantom blades. He retreats from the swordman, moving behind the mast of the ship in order to get more protection from that sword. Then he tries throwing a bollin pin at the swordman.

Cracklord

2013-12-14, 06:55 PM

Avery
"Handsomely done." He exclaimed, a little louder then was perhaps wise, and got to his feet, only to sway and need the wall for support. The bleeding may have stopped, but he was a long way from recovered. His mind was willing, but his body was having a little trouble responding.

Inigo stared at her a moment, his eyes flashing as the glimpse he had caught was confirmed. The Six-fingered man was here. "Rocheforte." He breathed. Then without a glance at either of the two, he turned and run. He'd been injured as well, but flesh wounds, and at this revelation he felt himself restored, filled with power and vitality. A chase that had lasted twenty years was about to end.

Avery limped forward trying to stop him, to get him to explain, but Inigo was long gone. He sighed. "We'll need some way to get out of Spain quickly." He said. "A ship would be best…"

He saw the Airship the Frenchmen had arrived in, and he slowly smiled.

Blackbeard
"Nay." He said. "The Templars aren't fond of the old magic." He sat in shadow, which seemed to darken even more as he spoke, leaving nothing but the suggestions of a figure and the glitter of eyes, like windows to some forgotten temple, behind which passed ghosts of forgotten, terrible thoughts. He had always been superstitious, aping rituals and tricks, humble conjuring and prestidigitation. But something had changed, and he had delved too deep in secrets better lost to remain altogether human. He had passed through doors that cut him off from the dreams, desires and emotions of ordinary folk, that had closed and left him trapped.

He got to his feet, and walked over to his discarded clothes, fishing around, and at last found his sword-belt, then drew out his sword. The great blade simmered bluely, like a thing alive in the candle-light, and he placed it on the table before sitting back down. "It's a terrible thing, to find charms and rituals you perform more for comfort then belief suddenly work. To hear voices where there should be silence. So it has been that the witch-woman restored life to me."

"A dark lady she was. Tia Dalma." He took the glass he had given Kenaway and drank that as well, then began groping around for a fresh bottle. "She brought me back, why I do not know. But I was dead long enough. We were fools, you and I. Perhaps Charles Vane saw further then any of us." In the acquisition of gold, Vane had said, no action was too low, too dirty, too despicable; murder, deception, fraud, betrayal. Above all else, a pirate was an amoral creature, liberated from civilized codes of conduct. No shame or crime could sully his soul more than it was already. Blackbeard had laughed to hear it. He had thought himself noble for his codes and standards, a poor sailor trying to earn a life that could only be his by such means.

But he was wiser now.

Aric Kale

2013-12-14, 08:54 PM

Barbossa

The pirate sighs, quickly losing interest in the conversation. And where might he've been taking Miss Swann? He inquires, drawing out the a in swann. Barbossa maintains a casual air, as if he were asking for directions. In a way, he is.

Draxx

2013-12-14, 09:44 PM

Rocheforte
The Cardinal's man swept off his hat in an elaborate bow, holding his scabbard away from his body so that it did not become entangled around his legs. Then he nodded to Febre, who stepped away and circled around the fat man, moving in a manner in no way unlike a predator, then stepping over to his desk. With every sign of boredom, he plucked the letters from the desk and made a cursory show of examining them, before tossing them over his shoulder. He wasn't really reading them as such, like Rocheforte, he didn't speak enough Spanish to recognize more then a few words, not that the Don knew that. Rocheforte glared, irritated by his behavior, but the bigger man didn't pay any attention.

"The Cardinal sent me. It is unfortunate, but so it is." Rocheforte said, his deep, rolling voice not sounding the least bit sincere. He didn't speak a word of spanish, so he spoke French, which he knew the Don spoke from their prior dealings. It was a simple enough exchange. Napoleon wanted Spain. He wanted it's ships, it's harbors, it's colonies in the New World. Cittigaze was a harbor, and using it Napoleon's invasion would be simple indeed. So, to spare conflict, he simply offered Don Lardo an obscene amount of money to give them use of his city, and relocate to the Carribean.

"The intention was to give you more time to get your affairs in order, before you begin your new life in the colonies. But the war in Austria is over, and the army is coming." Rocheforte said. "You have a few weeks. My men and I are to remain with you for that time." Having said his piece, he takes no further interest in the man.

"Congratulations on your betrothal." Febre said, his smile savage as he fished around the nobleman's desk. "Perhaps a toast in celebration. This looks to be an excellent '24 Cabernet. Good year, as I recall."

Grif

2013-12-15, 12:36 PM

Draxx

2013-12-15, 05:02 PM

In under two minutes, the crew of the Jolly Roger had armored both flanks with targette boards, rattled off a salvo with caliver and swivels and added a flurry of musket fire for good measure, and made the ship bristle like a porcupine with long-hafted pikes, billhooks, fauchards and tridents. Taking into account the individual weapons the men carried: hangers, sabres, sashes and baldrics laden with wheel and match-lock pistols, muskets, axes, rapiers and poniards, dirks and daggers, kidney knives and short, fat, single-edged swords they called cutlasses it was an impressive feat.

On the mainmast was hoisted a ragged black flag on which was a hand-stitched white skull that seemed to grin unnervingly and a pair of crossed bones beneath it. A pirate mark. The flag that, under the code of the brethren set down by Morgan and Bartholomew, warned a victim ship to give over without a fight, or informed another pirate of a fellow. If a pirate hoisted his black flag before an attack and you surrendered without a fight, he was obliged to show mercy.

But you had run, and beneath it they had run up a single plain red flag. The bloody flag. The sign of death without quarter.

The Jolly Roger had powered across the bow of the Karaboudjan and was coming in from the starboard side. Outflung grapnels closed the distance, dragging Jolly Roger and her prey side by side, and boarding planks and ladders slammed out through the targette wall, as the two ships continued by momentum to drive towards the reef.

The red-painted projection raised from the Jolly Roger's bowcastle that was quite literally a raised, crenellated fighting castle began to lower, and for the first time your crew realize what it was. A hinged boarding ramp, known as a corvus, large enough for two men to cross it abreast, and armoured along the sides with wooden targettes painted with the same violent heraldry and motifs as the Black Flag. The corvus had a huge spike extended from the lip of its front end.

The Jolly Roger slammed in towards the Karaboudjan's waist as if to ram her, then the cables securing the corvus were let out, and the wooden bridge came smashing down, disintegrating the toprail and slamming against the
deck, the spike biting deep into the decking.

Hook led the attack, looking both terrible and somehow heroic, in a gothic/romantic way. His skin was paler then paper, his blue eyes both dark and light (like sapphires in the darkness), his lips so red they looked as though they had been rouged. His coat flapped in the brisk wind, and the blade in his hands shone, while around him his men charged. The first one lept onto the deck, and as he landed he fired his ducks-foot, and the five splayed barrels of the grotesque pistol roared simultaneously. Another leapt up beside him, adding to the fusilade with a blast from his blunderbuss. The heavy weapon had a spring-blade under the trumpet, and rather then take the time to reload he snapped it out and charged, holding the weapon over his head and yelling black oaths.

Many of the pirates had multiple pistols strung around them on lanyards or ribbon sashes, so they could be fired and then dropped without being lost. There was no time to reload. Surging across the gap, the men fired each weapon in turn until they were spent, and then resorted to cutlass, boarding axe and sabre. Corsairs, swinging on lines, were now swarming over the poop rail, lost in a haze of smoke from their discharged weapons.

Smee staggered around, looking at the coming rocks. If they didn't break away quickly, or worse if the Karaboudjan turned while they were bound alongside, The Jolly Roger would be run aground. But the Captain's blood was up. There would be no telling him that. He just had to hope that none of the Karaboudjan's crew realized how vulnerable the pirates really were…

The Tygre

2013-12-15, 08:09 PM

Nemo

The men need a proper rest. But if what this Avatar said is true, and the city is truly neutral, then our enemies could just as easily move through it as well.

Nemo finally comes out of his reflection and states, "Mr. Ishmael; I think it would do the crew well to go on land and get a night without interruption. I leave lodgings in your hands. However, I do not fully trust my ship to be unguarded. If you and Mr. Jack would be so kind as to ask for a regiment of volunteers to stay the night aboard with me, it would ease my mind. There will be extra rations for any man who stays aboard, as incentive."

Shnyder

2013-12-15, 10:53 PM

Corvo Attano
Some of this tale is legend and hearsay, and much of it has been lost to time. This much, at least, is likely fact: Corvo Attano had been captured and tried some six years past, by the same committee that sent so many to the guillotine, and those who thought of him at all, had thought him either rotting dead in a gibbet cage on the headland, or rotting alive in the dreaded Château d'If, the most notorious and feared prison in Europe. The former, most likely, given the magnitude of the crime the Lord Protector had committed. But the world had moved on, and the victors had rewritten history to suit them, the circumstances of the Revolution reinvented for the same reason, and by degrees he was forgotten, as fresh atrocities came to light. After all, the difference between treason and patriotism is only a matter of dates. Beyond that, there can be no certainty.

But it seems the latter was the case. And though the years had not been kind, and the toll on his mind had been crueler still, for six years he remained in the cell in the depths of a prison too terrible for mortal conception, which had slowly shrunk to become his entire world. He was not a man intended to be caged, and he hovered on the brink of madness in the dark. But while a wolf will gnaw of it's own leg to escape a trap, some men will endure the trap, in the hope of luring the hunter to them. And so, Corvo resolved to live, to survive, and in time, to strike back. And while that resolution faltered before the realities of his predicament, it never broke entirely.

There are many ways men attempt to look for relief in that terrible place. Many initially turn to God, immersing themselves in prayer and holiness and the like with all the piety and conviction of a truly desperate convert. Others turn to wrath, looking for an agency to take revenge upon, until hopelessness steals the fire and they waste away with nothing to sustain them. Not that anyone saw this, for the guards were kept to their cells, their only human contact being every anniversary of their incarceration, when they would be whipped by the guards until they were unconscious. The prison defeated both approaches with the same tactic: the growing revelation of their own insignificance. It was not the abuse or the deprivation that broke men, it was the solitude, and the absence of all hope.

It was thoughts of Emily that kept Corvo focused, gave him the will to keep on breathing. And that was the unkindest cut of all, for a man who held his duty paramount, beyond any considerations of body or soul, his very dedication was slowly stealing his mind, and leaving him so sick with grief and hopelessness that after four years of growing steadily madder, he attempted by degrees to kill himself by means of starvation, and would doubtless have succeeded if a twist of fate hadn't intervened, and he hadn't heard a scratching sound coming from beneath the floor of his cell.

That was the first time he met Prisoner 64389000, The Man in the Iron Mask. Corvo’s neighbor never told him his name, if he even remembered it, only that he had been imprisoned by the Knight Templar for his political beliefs, as he is an agitator for a unified Italy. Corvo was overjoyed to have a companion, starved for human contact as he was, although the man in the mask was less so. He had mistakenly believed he had been digging a tunnel to freedom.

Corvo had always been a man of few words, saying little and preferring to keep his judgements to himself, but his story spilled out of him, and the man was a fine listener.

darkblade

2013-12-16, 07:12 PM

Corvo

((I like you, you let me tie in a plot point I haven't got a chance to establish yet and use one of my favourite historical fiction characters to do so.))

Your cell block happens to be under the jurisdiction of a young guard named Javert. His steel toed boots echo across the stone floor as he approaches your cell. The hard echo followed closely by a sinister melody he hums to him self. Ba-dum, ba-dum, badadadada-dum

"Prisoner 36903, you are to be transferred to a higher security facility. Place your hands on your head and face the wall."

***

Nemo

"Of course Captain." Ishmael complies as he goes to rally the crew. A few hours later the bulk of the men were lodged a few blocks away at an expansive hotel while half a dozen crew men remain on board the Nautilis along with yourself and Ishmael.

The mid-level mess was relatively free of damage and repairmen allowing you and your crew some privacy as they enjoy their extra rations. With Ishmael taking the first shift of watch.

Even through the steel hull you can hear the echos of their chi and steam driven tools as the workers go about fixing your vessel. A few minutes into your meal your first mate rings you on the intercom. "Captain get to the engine room quickly!"

***

Innigo

As you make your way towards the exit of the dungeon you draw the attention of the guards, these ones are simple men with swords, no real threat to a man of your skills but with your injuries they may slow you down a little bit.

***

Avery

Lucky for you Innigo has drawn the attention of most of the guards, letting you slip into the castle largely unnoticed. A few guards patrol the deck of the airship but the majority of Rocheforte's men are with him inside.

***

Barbossa

"Imperial soldiers. I don't know where they took him. I'm sorry." She is terrified she would tell you anything to get you to leave but there is nothing she could say.

***

Blackbeard

"Then we have no further business." For all your talk of dark magic he seems quite unimpressed as if to say that whatever darkness the ancient secrets hold the future is twice as frightening.

He pushes himself from the table. "I'll replace your crew and be on my way then. What state do they need to be in for the magic?"

***

Popeye

The pin clobbers the swordsman in the head knocking him back. Stunned for a moment he gives you a perfect moment to take him down.

***

ThePhantom

2013-12-16, 08:11 PM

Popeye

Popeye peeks from behind the mast, looks like this might be his chance. Pity that his crew isn't willing to do much to step in. He steps out from the mast and swings his fist at the swordman's head. Better to have him alive to be taught a lesson.

AnimeKid

2013-12-16, 08:55 PM

Luffy

Luffy pouted to himself as he said, "Aww! But I'm starving! I need meat! What's wrong with the gold anyway? I though everyone loved gold?"

Cracklord

2013-12-16, 09:27 PM

Blackbeard
He puts the bottle down, and his eyes settle upon you, hard as chips of flint, though not hostile. "I don't think so." He said. "I've spoke me piece, and I be thinkin' that now I'll be listening to yours."

He picked up his sword. The gesture was not threatening, exactly, but the earlier, comradely atmosphere was gone, and the room felt charged, as though a single word one way or the other might set him off. "I don't care about yer order, or what ye be trying to cover for 'em. But I do care to know what it is you expect from this. What is it ye want, Kenaway? Something be whispering in me ear it's not gold and glory."

Inigo
Without breaking his stride, he pushed his sprint harder, then a moment before colliding with one of the guards he jumped, bringing both knees to his chest before extending both legs ahead of him as hard as he could, driving them into the chest of the first guard, and sending them both crashing to the floor, the guard unconscious as his head collided with the stone wall. As another thought to take advantage of Inigo while he was prone, the Spaniard scissored his legs around him, then flexed them, knocking him down and locking him helplessly. In the same instant, he swept up the first guards rapier to kill the third before he could fire his pistol, then threw it overhead with precision even his injuries could not remove, catching the forth before he could so much as blink. Getting to his feet, he headed for the stairs, the entire fight having taken maybe a handful of seconds.

Inigo was beyond reasoning, beyond the demands of his body, having passed through any sort of consideration whatsoever except the demands of revenge. He had seen the Six-fingured man. He had a name now. Rocheforte. He did not have his sword, and hadn't even paused, or thought, to pick up another weapon. In that moment, so powerful was his drive that even the removal of his cerebral cortex likely wouldn't have stopped it's relentless push to reach his enemy. He had to find the Six-fingered man.

Avery
Having slipped out of the castle, he joined the crowd staring up in amazement at the vessel overhead. On some of the crowd's faces were written wonder, on many were written fear. In a way, Avery thought, whether they knew it or not, these men were staring up at the passing of their way of life.

For hundreds of years, even before Spain was a nation rather then a series of squabbling kingdoms of christians and moors, their city had rested secure and impregnable in the natural harbor, protected by their surrounding terrain. The only approach was through the harbor, sailing beneath the forts that guarded it, or along the spiraling pathway that led through the hills. In their entire existence, no invader had ever reached the city or conquer this place. It was a location where ten men could hold back one hundred. But the airship changed everything. It could carry an entire company of soldiers in its hold. A fleet of such ships could deliver an army, bypassing the cities defenses easily. The odd-looking cannons could bombard these cobbled streets from afar in a way no besieger had ever managed before. In an odd way, today was indicative of a new era, and he doubted anyone realized it yet.

But that was a consideration for later. For now, he had to follow his friend. Taking advantage of the distraction afforded by the visitors and their means of arrival, Avery followed Inigo's path, pausing at the guards to take up a rapier. It wasn't much of a blade, the tang was askew and the balance was six inches too far, but it would suffice.

Shnyder

2013-12-16, 10:28 PM

Corvo Attano
The former Lord protector was eating his meal, stale crusts of bread, and orange juice to wash it down. In those first days in the lightless cell, fruit juice had seemed an extravagance, but trapped in this dungeon, where the air is still and stale, and there's only artificial light and close confines, it kept them, if not healthy, at least disease free. The memory of the plague was not so far forgotten, and that's too much of a risk to take when you only need to give a man half a pint of juice a day to stave off the worst, and there is orchard's aplenty on the mainland. Many died of despair, but few died of neglect.

He left his meal half eaten, then did as he was asked, stepping away from the bench that was his seat and his bed, and his few, meagre possessions, and walking over to the wall, placing his hands behind his head with slow, reassuring movements. He voiced no protest, and made no resistance, the very image of a co-operative prisoner. Corvo was not the man he had been six years ago. He was not even the man he had been two years ago, his neighbor had seen to that. His wits, mind and reflexes were sharper, broadened and opened to new possibilities. And he had direction now, a purpose.

This wasn't the anniversary of his imprisonment, that much he was sure about, although the only means of tracking time he had was the tins pushed under his door, and the taking of his chamber-pot. Something else had intervened, and had broken the monotony, though what exactly he didn't know. The guard would search him. They always did, it was expected, although what they hoped to find he did not know, since he had no possessions but those he was given. Perhaps, if the guard was possessed of political sensibilities or a surfeit of resentment and bile, he would be beaten. Nobody cared if the prisoner was marked, so those who knew his identity often took what chances they got. At first, Corvo had made an effort to memorize their faces. Now, he was past that as well, he no longer cared in the slightest. The only thing in his life that still mattered to him was Emily.

So he didn't speak, he just did as instructed. His body was still lean with corded power, he put it through its paces as best he could despite starvation and malnutrition, but he was barely recognizable. His hair was shaggy, lank and greasy, his cheeks and chin unshaven, and his eyes deepset with shadows like bruises beneath them. A few of his teeth were loose in his mouth, and he was filthy, matted with crusts of dirt and sweat under his clothes. It was difficult to imagine what he had once been.

Perhaps they finally intended to execute him, he had always imagined that the day would come, when whatever value he retained would be no more, and he would be put to death. If so, he would have to escape, although that was easier said then done. The island was surrounded by cliffs, and by ocean, the nearest shore was miles away, and their were no boats on the island. But he could no more do otherwise then he could will his heart to stop beating. He would be free. Emily needed him.

Aric Kale

2013-12-17, 12:04 AM

Barbossa

In that case, Ms. Swann, I'm afraid I have no further use for ye. A single, resounding boom is heard from the mansion, where Barbossa has just fired a round at the young woman's head. Regardless of whether he killed her or not, the pirate captain swaggers out of the room with the rolling gait of one accustomed to life on board a ship. Pintel! Regetti! Round up the crew and hunt Mr. Turner down. If he's still in Port Royal tonight, and not on my ship by tomorrow noon, there'll be hell to pay. The two ruffians hurry out of the well-furnished house, swiftly gathering twenty mates with a few more rallying as they went, hunting for the pirate spawn. As for Barbossa, he makes his way to the dimly lit kitchen, locates a nice, juicy apple and polishes off on his jacket. He takes a bite out of the apple, chews it and spits it out with a grimace. Ash...always ash. Damn ye, Cortez. Rot in hell with me and my crew!

Draxx

2013-12-17, 01:21 AM

Rocheforte
The Don was quiet, doubtless overwhelmed by the magnitude of both the ultimatum he had received, and threat that had come with it, so Febre shrugged and uncorked it with a deft twist of his fingers, brought the neck up to his lips and drank the priceless liquid like cheap rotgut. His blue eyes twinkled with good-humoured intelligence in the weathered crumple of his face, and the tips of his mustache twitched like the whiskers of a terrier who can smell a rat. Wiping his lips with the back of a calfskin glove, he loomed over the Don, his entire body a prelude to violence. If Rocheforte hadn't been standing there, most likely he wold have killed the fat man by now. But supervised as he was, instead he tried to provoke him with his behavior, trying to force a confrontation.

Rocheforte, for his part, was staring out the window, his one remaining eye staring out at the horizon, where the sky met the sea somewhere through the harbor.

The Tygre

2013-12-19, 06:51 PM

Nemo

The Captain quickly springs to his feet. He draws his scimitar and rushes out the door, shouting as he runs, "Men, quickly! To me! Be ready to attack! Two of you search the ship and be on your guard!" Without waiting to see if his crew follows, Nemo rushes to the engine room.

Cracklord

2013-12-21, 05:36 AM

Blackbeard
A dangerous passion has awoken in the captain of the Revenge, and he got to his feet, naked steel still in his hand as he began to pace. His hair and beard fluttered, as though a stiff breeze had sprung up at his back, though the rest of the cabin was still and the light seemed to drain from the room, until the only glitter of his dark eyes offered illumination in the cabin. This wasn't the man you knew afterall, despite some passing points of commonality. Not anymore. Whatever his antecedents, he had changed in some fundamental way, become something wholly other than their sum. He had no commencing, no history or origins that could be traced or reckoned in a meaningful manner. He simply was, eternal as the sea, and the night that set upon it.

"So wrapped in secrets and terrors." He mused, more to himself then to Edward. "You know how this ends. The rain will erode the deeds of your life. Your enemies will rise again, and yet again, until they are victorious, there can be no other end to this hopeless war. Your hands are red with blood and you follow a red sea-path, tell me, when will the reign of blood cease? Leave others to fight this lost cause. Live deep while you live; forget your timid morality and let go of your fear." His voice was curiously without passion or inflection, seeming more a resigned statement of fact then an honestly given entreaty.

Your gaze falls upon his desk, covered in clutter taken from every source imaginable. Scattered amongst the sea charts and pages ripped from a rutter, detailed observations of a pilot who had recorded magnetic compass courses between ports and capes, headlands and channels in these waters. You'd expect that. But it was his own touches that stood out, ancient scrolls of a more esoteric bent, and fist-sized hieroglyph-carven gold, collected by Blackbeard over his long life.

A book bound in meteoric iron, incantations written by Skelos in a time long forgotten, sat at the corder, seeming to carry the weight of ages upon it like a physical thing. On what looked like human skin was a few short lines of poetry written in Blackbeard's own hand.

'Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Nightmare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.'

darkblade

2013-12-27, 04:52 PM

Blackbeard

"You're not the only one who died Ketch. The moment I took this hood I died but I'll be damned if I let Templars or the Pirate Kings kill me without a fight." Kenaway said backing away. He flicked his wrist, extending the hidden blade between his missing fingers.

"Now for old time's sake I'd like to leave on peaceful terms."

***

Nemo

The engine, a sprawling network of furnaces and turbines that power the impossible submersible spanned much of the aft sections. Pipes and wires sending substances and arcane signals across the ship.

As you and your guards arrive you see the scene Ishmael must have summoned you for. One of the workers laid dead under a burst pipe, his tools strewed about through a puddle of blood. "This deck was undamaged before, someone doesn't want the Nautilis sea worthy, Captain."

***

Rocheforte, Inigo and Avery

As Rocheforte stares out the window you can hear the sounds of guards falling in the hall accompanied by angry rushed stomping. Someone who shouldn't be here is coming.

***

Barbossa

Your crew all but burns the colony to the ground but there is no sign of William Turner. Pintell and Regeti do manage to bring a pair of garrison soldiers before you. "Tell the Captain what you said."

The soldier looks up at you, terror in his eyes. "The Turner boy. They took him to Australia. Said he was accessory to treason against the crown."

***

Corvo

Javert searches you but takes no actions beyond his authority. In his own ruthless manner he is an honourable man. He leads you past the other prisoners all roaring like a horde of beasts at the sight of fresh meat until they see you. As you cross their lines of sight each man falls as silent as the grave.

You are brought up several layers until you can see windows again, windows filtering in the blinding light of the sun. "You are being transferred to Australia to receive treatment at a Punishment Factory. Do you know what that means?"

Truthfully last time you saw anyone who spoke of the world outside of this prison Australia was a British colony, not something for a French man to fear and you don't have the slightest clue what a punishment factory is.

***

Luffy

"Haven't you heard of Cortez's curse? Anyone who touches that gold is damned." The Barkeep shakes his head.

Zorro walks into the bar behind you and sighs. "A curse? What did you do now Luffy?"

***

Popeye

The swordsman takes the blow to the face and falls flat on his back unconscious. His crew takes off fleeing back to their own boat.

ThePhantom

2013-12-27, 05:12 PM

Popeye

"Alright men. Take his weapens and tied him up. We'll let the police deal with him when we get home."

The crew goes and takes the man's sword and using a spare rope, tie him up. Then he's placed in the hold of the ship, while the ship continues on, heading back to port and those who wait for the men aboard her return.

Aric Kale

2013-12-27, 05:16 PM

Barbossa

Barbossa glares at the hapless soldier before giving orders to his crew. Gents! We travel to Australia! Now throw this landlubbers overboard... The two garrison reserves are unceremoniously tossed into the harbor, where the ship is quickly departing. With the aid of a favorable wind, and an experienced crew, the Black Pearl practically flies across the ocean, heading towards her newest destination.

Cracklord

2013-12-29, 06:59 AM

Blackbeard
"It's not death that frightens me, Edward." He replied, the sinister aspect his face took on in the murk reaching a new order of magnitude. "Everyone manages that. But there are worse fates." he replied, then sat back down, the passion having left him.

He snorted at your ultimatum, though he didn't look up, his eyes having fixed on yet another bottle of rum. "Good to know you're as mad as ever." He replied, all but snorting and without the fondness that he had been exhibiting moments earlier. "We're well out to sea, the trade winds at our backs and set to course, there be no turning back now. Not for you or anyone. I have a course to set." With some regret, he looked past the rum, and groped around the desk until he found the chart, then placed a thoughtful hand on the Iron-bound book.

"I won't hold you against your will, but as long as you're aboard my ship, you earn your keep." He added, then made a dismissive gesture with his head, ending the interview.

darkblade

2013-12-29, 03:51 PM

Blackbeard

"Where are you going then?" Kenaway asks retracting his blade. You are correct there is nowhere else for him to go but where you take him.

***

Barbossa

A few miles off the coast of the penal colony the sea starts to stir. Several crewmen spot shifting shapes in the water than vanish before anyone can look twice. It seems something is hiding down there.

***

Popeye

Your efforts to remove the sword are fruitless. Those strange wires run right through his body and despite their rough and rusted appearance they are too strong to be cut. This man must be truly desperate to never be unarmed to do something like this to himself. Still tied up be shouldn't be very dangerous.

After half an hour he starts to come to. "What happened?"

ThePhantom

2013-12-29, 04:17 PM

Popeye

"I dealt with ye, and ye crew left ye."

Popeye happened to be in the hold when the swordman woke up. He was seeing if the blade had managed to do damage deep enough to show up on the other side of the boards.

"Once we get to port, the coppers will deal with ye."

Aric Kale

2013-12-29, 04:38 PM

Barbossa

The Black Pearl has been run by an undead crew for ten years now, so they've seen some odd things in their days. However, they are--by nature--a superstitious lot, and shift about their chores uneasily. Barbossa paces the deck frantically, berating the pirate crew for having "Lilly-livers" and being a "spineless lot of crabs."

Cracklord

2013-12-30, 08:27 AM

Blackbeard
With the wind running and all standing, the Queen Anne's Revenge made spectacular speed. The shore had fallen away behind; a ribbon of headland dead astern, fading to a smoky line, and then nothing, not so much as a blur on the horizon. There was nothing in sight but open sea, a lively westerly at their backs.

"West." Blackbeard replied simply without looking up from the charts, one finger idly tracing square, blocky patterns on the iron-bound book. The clutter around looks to be illuminating, if nothing else. You see letters sealed with a red wax 'R', old scrolls gone to parchment, annotated maps, even a writ of excommunication. There are pictures of men and women you don't recognize (nobles going by their clothes and clear skin), woodcuts and portraits alike, even a locket of gold. All fragments, hints that tantalize, that taken together may add up to a picture of significance, regarding the man before you.

"I sought and took the last of the iron-bound books of Skelos, and talked with unseen creatures in deep wells, and faceless shapes in black reeking jungles." He tapped the iron-bound book meaningfully, then stared up at you once more. He misses companionship, someone to confide in and talk to. Perhaps you can use that. "The routes long forgotten I will open again, and follow them to the lost city itself."

He smiled, in contrast to the black, moody depression in his eyes. Reaching into his coat he removed a long-stemmed pipe carved of whalebone, vague impressions of carvings around the bowl suggesting something polypous and sinister. He filled it with tobacco from his pouch, rolled with something else, and lit it with a tapering fuse. "I care not for the compiled knowledge of the first kingdom, though it's libraries were said to be the envy of even Alexandria. Nor have I a need for the treasures taken from the first lands and hoarded, wealth beyond dreams though it is said. If I wanted more gold, I would simply sink more ships and drown more sailors. But amongst such trifles, there is a secret, passed by word of mouth only by the priest-kings of Atlantis. And that shall be mine."

"Into the west, unknown of man,
Ships have sailed since the world began.
Read, if you dare, what Skelos wrote,
With dead hands fumbling his silken coat;
And follow the ships through the wind-blown wrack ?
Follow the ships that come not back."

Outside the cabin, a fair number of the crew not counted amongst the dead stood at the rail and cast offerings into the rolling green water. A coin for good luck, a stone for safe return, a button for rich pickings, a lock of hair for the faith and well-being of a sweet-heart. Some men, wrung chicken’s necks and threw the dead bird in, a sacrifice they'd suffer for towards the end of the journey, if the captain kept to his mad course.

The cruel water-gods, like the sea daemon, these otherwise godless men were attempting to appease mad no sign, but the wind remained steady and true, and the Queen Anne' kept it's pace. The Bosun, Death Larsen's fists were clamped to the king-spoke of the gold-painted wheel with a thick-necked lee helmsman at his side.

He was a giant, with an enormous sweep of breast and the shoulders of a bull, and his huge breast arched with an impressive sweep to a hard waist that lacked any thickness or paunch whatsoever. Unlike the rest of the crew, he was clean-shaven, and was handsome, a perfect specimen of stark masculinity, and the short sleeves of his shirt revealed forearms massive with corded muscles. The Bosun presented a formidable picture of primitive power, but there was something repellent about the Dane, something abysmal and monstrous that contrasted unfavorably with the clean-cut, compact hardness that his form suggested. Far from an Adonis, he more closely resembled a shambling, somber shape from the darkness of Time's pre-dawn.

He seemed as animated as his craft, as if the wind was filling his sails too. But this good mood did not reach his eyes, that looked upon the crew with a savage viciousness that mirrored his masters. The madness of Edward Teach, his hysterical contempt for all life and his tyranny of sadism had found a perfect expression in this man.

Draxx

2013-12-30, 11:54 PM

Rocheforte
Hearing the sounds outside, he turned to the Don, a jape on his lips, but it never passed through them. Something in the corner of his eye had stolen his attention, and as he stared he glimpsed the blade in the place of honor on the shelf behind the desk. As his eye fell upon it, it gleamed. Don Lardo, for all his faults, had an appreciative eye for beauty, as his unwilling betrothed demonstrated, and had recognized the sword for what it was, and given it a place of honor. Rochefort stared at it thoughtfully, feeling some vague glimmer recognition but unable to entirely place it. He was sure it was significant, but he couldn't have said how or why. "Where did get that?" He said, his voice soft, his six-fingered right hand unconsciously stroking the long dueling scar across his cheek.

Captain Hook
In under two minutes, the crew of the Jolly Roger had armored both flanks with targette boards, rattled off a salvo with caliver and swivels and added a flurry of musket fire for good measure, and made the ship bristle like a porcupine with long-hafted pikes, billhooks, fauchards and tridents. Taking into account the individual weapons the men carried: hangers, sabres, sashes and baldrics laden with wheel and match-lock pistols, muskets, axes, rapiers and poniards, dirks and daggers, kidney knives and short, fat, single-edged swords they called cutlasses it was an impressive feat.

On the mainmast was hoisted a ragged black flag on which was a hand-stitched white skull that seemed to grin unnervingly and a pair of crossed bones beneath it. A pirate mark. The flag that, under the code of the brethren set down by Morgan and Bartholomew, warned a victim ship to give over without a fight, or informed another pirate of a fellow. If a pirate hoisted his black flag before an attack and you surrendered without a fight, he was obliged to show mercy.

But you had run, and beneath it they had run up a single plain red flag. The bloody flag. The sign of death without quarter.

The Jolly Roger had powered across the bow of the Karaboudjan and was coming in from the starboard side. Outflung grapnels closed the distance, dragging Jolly Roger and her prey side by side, and boarding planks and ladders slammed out through the targette wall, as the two ships continued by momentum to drive towards the reef.

The red-painted projection raised from the Jolly Roger's bowcastle that was quite literally a raised, crenellated fighting castle began to lower, and for the first time your crew realize what it was. A hinged boarding ramp, known as a corvus, large enough for two men to cross it abreast, and armoured along the sides with wooden targettes painted with the same violent heraldry and motifs as the Black Flag. The corvus had a huge spike extended from the lip of its front end.

The Jolly Roger slammed in towards the Karaboudjan's waist as if to ram her, then the cables securing the corvus were let out, and the wooden bridge came smashing down, disintegrating the toprail and slamming against the
deck, the spike biting deep into the decking. And over the bridge poured the pirates.

A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a row on Execution dock. Here is the handsome Italian Cecco, his great arms bare, pieces of eight in his ears as ornaments, who cut his name in letters of blood on the back of the governor of the prison at Gao. There is the gigantic black man, who has gone through many names since he dropped the one with which dusky mothers still terrify their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo. Bill Jukes, every inch of him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes who got six dozen on the WALRUS from Flint before he would drop the bag of moidores; and Cookson, said to be Black Murphy's brother (but this was never proved), and Gentleman Starkey, once an usher in a public school and still dainty in his ways of killing; and Skylights; and the Irish bo'sun Smee, an oddly genial man who stabbed, so to speak, without offence, and was the only Non-conformist in Hook's crew; and Noodler, whose hands were fixed on backwards; and Robt. Mullins and Alf Mason and many another ruffian long known and feared from the Spanish Main to the Ivory Coast.

Hook led the attack, looking both terrible and somehow heroic, in a gothic/romantic way. His skin was paler then paper, his blue eyes both dark and light (like sapphires in the darkness), his lips so red they looked as though they had been rouged, cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls. His coat flapped in the brisk wind, and the blade in his hands shone, while around him his men charged. The first one lept onto the deck, and as he landed he fired his ducks-foot, and the five splayed barrels of the grotesque pistol roared simultaneously. Another leapt up beside him, adding to the fusilade with a blast from his blunderbuss. The heavy weapon had a spring-blade under the trumpet, and rather then take the time to reload he snapped it out and charged, holding the weapon over his head and yelling black oaths.

Many of the pirates had multiple pistols strung around them on lanyards or ribbon sashes, so they could be fired and then dropped without being lost. There was no time to reload. Surging across the gap, the men fired each weapon in turn until they were spent, and then resorted to cutlass, boarding axe and sabre. Corsairs, swinging on lines, were now swarming over the poop rail, lost in a haze of smoke from their discharged weapons.

Smee staggered around, looking at the coming rocks. If they didn't break away quickly, or worse if the Karaboudjan turned while they were bound alongside, The Jolly Roger would be run aground. But the Captain's blood was up. There would be no telling him that. He just had to hope that none of the Karaboudjan's crew realized how vulnerable the pirates really were…

The Tygre

2013-12-31, 06:30 PM

Nemo

"Devilry." The Captain hisses. Nemo turns to the men who followed, ordering, "Men! Somewhere there is a saboteur on board this ship. One of you find Mr. Jack and inform him of what has happened. It is vital that he knows this, but tell no one else. The rest of you go in pairs and cover every exit of the ship. Be on the lookout for anything suspicious, and if you find any more damage to the Nautilus, inform me and Mr. Ishmael immediately. Let no one in or out of this ship. Go now, quickly!" Nemo turns back to Ishmael and solemnly says, "As for us, old friend, let us attend to the task at hand. How long will this set the Nautilus back?" Nemo carefully inspects the crime scene as his first mate begins to speak.

Shnyder

2013-12-31, 10:43 PM

Corvo
The former Lord Protector was not, as a rule, a good judge of character, tending to take a lot at face value and follow his first impressions. Still, he found Javert admirable, a man of iron principles, even idealism of a grey and well-used sort. Conviction like that was rare, but it gave him a devotion to the objective law untempered by compromise or mercy.

Inspector Chauvelin had been like that as well, when he dragged him here. Corvo doesn't move or make any signs during the search, he simply endures it. Javert didn't beat him, the first man in authority not to do so since he arrived, and Corvo remembered that. There was nothing on him to find, he had no weapons and had not attempted to improvise any. When Javert was done, he turned and followed him, even allowing the man to chain his wrists together without any resistance at all.

He followed Javert through the prison, docile and obedient, his feet making no sound against the ground. Looking at him, a man could be forgiven for thinking he was entirely broken, at least until they met his eyes. His face was cadaverous with the grim scars of starvation and deprivation, and his clothes hung off his body loosely, enough that he was almost a walking skeleton. He moved with the echo of grace, but much of his strength was gone.

He follows up the stairs, still every inch the model prisoner, but when he comes to the room he stops at the door, and doesn't move. He is staring at the windows,looking out them, a small smile on his lips. There is nothing to see, they are too high up to do anything besides let the light in, and his eyes water painfully, he's been so long in the dark that the light is agonizing, but he doesn't turn away. A small smile creases his lips as he stares. The sun. He'd missed that more then anything.

He listens to Javert, but he doesn't take his eyes from the windows, and he doesn't speak himself, even when asked to. There was nothing to say, and so Corvo said nothing. He did not entirely comprehend his circumstances, but he didn't need to. The important thing was Emily.

AnimeKid

2014-01-01, 06:10 AM

Luffy

Looking back with a wide grin on his face Luffy says excitedly to his First Mate, "Take a look Zoro! This guy says this is cursed gold from some guy name Contex! I got it from punching a bug woman to save a nice lady. But I can't use it to buy meat though.:smallfrown: Oh well Nami will sure be happy about it though. Hey you think we can get any more if we go find this Contex guy?"

darkblade

2014-01-02, 01:39 PM

Luffy

Zoro rolls his eyes. "Crotez, is dead Luffy."

The bug-woman from before walks up to you. Her head legs frantically waving in every direction and quick bursts of strong smelling pheromones extruding from under her head wings. Evidently she is trying to say something but you don't speak bug-person.

***

Corvo

"Your body and mind shall be reshaped to properly serve the Empire. You are being given a second chance." Javert explains as he leads you all the way to surface. Several armed guards stand waiting in front of a huge airship.

"By the time the Bio-Thurmatists are done with you there will be nothing left but a perfect cog in the Empire's great machine."

***

Nemo

Your men comply splitting off into the depths of your ship, searching for the saboteur. Ishmael sighs as he looks over the pipe. "It's a minor exhaustive line. I could fix this myself in an hour. What worries me is how it happened."

He runs his hands over the crack to show small chunks of metal that were melted. "It looks like the work of a firebender."

***

Rochefort

"Some pirates that made off with my fiance. I intended to make an example of them shortly but that's not going to happen now..." Don complains.

"If it's time to go then it's time. Let us be on our way."

Now of course would be a perfectly dramatic time for said pirates to burst in.

***

Hook

Haddock's men are outnumbered and outgunned but still they put up their fight. Swords and pistols attempt to match your men one for every three.

Oddly amongst the violence the Captain is not seen on deck. He seems to have barricaded himself in a helms cabin and is manning the wheel.

***

Blackbeard

Kenaway is unimpressed. "You won't like what you'll find there."

Still he makes no effort to change your mind and helps your crew where he can, he doesn't have the unnatural strength or stamina of the undead, but he holds his own well enough.

The winds are favourable but uneventful leading you right on to your destination.

***

Barbossa

Your curse is a strange one. While you cannot die or eat even at the sun's highest to all observations you are alive. For example when Ragetti's false eye rolls away from him again and he pricks his hand on a splintering deck board he bleeds.

No sooner than the blood rises to his hand does a large inky black spot form across his palm and the wind dies down to nothing. Even with inertia you're a long ways to shore and whatever is shifting beneath the waves is stirring more fiercely now.

***

Popeye

"You should have left me to die. I know too much to be allowed to rot in prison." The swordsman says with a smirk.

A crewman knocks on the door to inform you that you're almost to shore and it's time to prepare to dock.

Aric Kale

2014-01-02, 02:35 PM

Barbossa

Barbossa follows the movement of the hapless crewman's wooden eyeball as it rolls around the deck. I should've given my piece of eight to Jack, that monkey would have been more competent. Then, an oddity occurs...
Master Ragetti, he begins, would ye mind sharing what is on your hand, and what might've brought it about? By now, the rest of the crew have noticed the eery stillness, and those below deck have made their way up top.
Phrases such as "cursed again" and "fanned captain" are being whispered nervously. Barbossa continues to stare down Ragetti, waiting for a response. Without it, he may lose control of the crew.

ThePhantom

2014-01-02, 03:07 PM

Popeye

"You should have left me to die. I know too much to be allowed to rot in prison." The swordsman says with a smirk.

A crewman knocks on the door to inform you that you're almost to shore and it's time to prepare to dock.

"I prefer not killing."

Popeye nods his head at the crewman, takes a puff on his pipe, and heads up the steps back to the deck. All he has to do is get the cargo unloaded and sold, then its off to see Olive.

Shnyder

2014-01-03, 01:13 PM

Corvo
He allowed himself to be led to the airship, blinking a few times in wonder at the contraption, but not voicing any words on the subject of France's conquest of the skies. He listened to the explanation of his fate, and his eyes twitched a little in response, but for all that his outward self-control made him resemble the very thing they were threatening to turn him into, inside he felt nothing but contempt for this new development, whatever it's endorsement.

To him, six years was not such a long time. He remembered, when, in a bold stroke, Field Marshal Tamas decapitated the monarchy when the royalist army was broken, and this whole sorry situation began. King Lois XIV (for whatever else he was, the man had been a king) may have been spectacularly corrupt, incompetent, philandering and venal, but for all his failures that had left the aristocracy tottering and eventually provoked the man who held the nation together to leave him for the alternative, he had never been this bad.

He stares at the guards as he thinks, a bit more closely then is comfortable, but not in a way that tips his intentions. They would see defiance in his gaze, not a cold, analytical mind gauging a hundred tiny details, everything from which foot they favored to how often they blinked. He needed to know these things, if he was going to rescue Emily. To that aim, all was secondary. It had to be.

Only two generations before, that same dynasty had made France the Envy of the world. They had replaced that proud legacy with a squabbling collection of barely educated bourgeoisie headed by Cardinal Richelieu, who was far too intelligent to rule directly.

They'd been a collection of intellectuals in committees, too busy allocating blame for everything wrong and making scapegoats to ever have a hope of the serious reformation they all agreed was necessary (about the only thing they could agree on). Now, in the name of freedom, republic and equality they had apparently set up tyrannies that the most despotic of dictators could only dream of.

It couldn't be allowed to go on like this.

darkblade

2014-01-04, 11:24 AM

Corvo

The guards, aside from Javert move with mechanical precision, in fact if you listen carefully you think you can hear a rapid ticking of intricate clockwork inside their bodies. These men aren't human, at least not anymore.

With rifles drawn they lead you onto the airship.

***

Barbossa

He holds up his hand. A large black dot, perfectly circular sits in his palm. It's not unlike the black spot, the sign of mutiny. Of course that is done on paper to be easily hidden or disposed of until the time is right, no man, not even one as dim as Ragetti would put it on his own flesh for all to see. "I...I don't know sir."

The shifting water grows still and a figure rises from the deep. A ghostly image of a woman stands on the water and sings to you. The lyrics an alien tongue, not spoken in any port you've ever been to. Ragetti stands staring blankly at the spectral woman his gaze unblinking, though no one else seems particularly effected beyond surprise.

***

Popeye

Bluto stands at the port ready to great you. "You're late Popeye. You were due three days ago."

A wicked smile crosses his bearded face and you just know he is up to something.

ThePhantom

2014-01-04, 11:34 AM

Popeye

Popeye scowl deepens. Bluto, that cur, what is he up to.

"Sailing an't always smooth Bluto. Now out me way, there's cargo to unload and presioner to hand over."

Popeye walks down the gangpank, he's not going to take Bluto too seriously at first. After all, somedays they do manage to get along. Today might be one of those days.

Aric Kale

2014-01-04, 11:55 AM

Barbossa - Strange Encounters of the Oceanic Kind

The captain steps forward with false confidence, having never heard of this kind of creature before. He calls out with an over dramatic voice, asking What is your business with my ship and crew? Slowly, a hand reaches towards his pistol...just in case.

Draxx

2014-01-05, 06:43 AM

Rocheforte
Rocheforte ignored the Don, still looking at the sword thoughtfully. He picked it up. It fitted perfectly in his right hand, as though made for his grip, smooth and comfortable - despite his extra finger - in a way no sword ever had before. He stared around the room thoughtfully, drawing the sword and swinging it lazily through the air a few times as he did. On the walls, gilt-edged mirrors of stupendous quality and size alternated with portraits of Spanish nobles. Goateed men in ruffs, bosomy ladies with skins like chalk, children in silk pantaloons. His lips parted a fraction as he enjoyed the feeling of the sword, feeling a closer connection to it then any he had possessed, then he turned to Lardo.

"You have outdone yourself." He said without deigning to look at the Don, raising a hand, as his gaze fell to the harbor. There were no ships in the harbor. Beyond, if he squinted, he could see over a dozen brigs and barques careened up on the bone-white foreshore, hull-bellies tipped towards the stars like basking sea lions, masts pushed over on the lea. It was hard to imagine any man could want more then this corpulent Spaniard already possessed, and yet he did. Despite himself, Rocheforte was impressed. "The defenses are stripped, canon powder and shot far from the walls. The harbor is empty. The only men fit to be called soldiers that remain are loyal to you. You have made an opening, and we could not ask for a better route to the heart of Spain. And it is all thanks to you. His excellency the Cardinal thanks you on behalf of L'Empereur Napoleon Bonaparte, for your service to France and the cause. You will spend the rest of your remaining days in comfort and security, unencumbered by concerns of war or loyalty to any but yourself" Febre lets out a short, harsh bark of laughter, that trails off into a cough at Rocheforte''s glare.

Rocheforte stepped over to the larger man, and took the mostly empty bottle of wine from Febre, then walked back over to the desk and poured a small portion into two delicate crystal glasses, then handed one to the Don. "To opportunity." He said as a toast, lowering the blade and holding the glass high. "And to those with the wit to prosper." Without another word, he ran the fat man through. The Don was dead before he even felt the blade, much less realized what happened. "Vive le roi."

He turned on his heel, and gestured to Febre. "Set charges in the fort's magazine. I want a smouldering ruin, and nothing else. I shall be on the roof, signalling the airship. The Spaniards have admired our new weapon long enough. It is time they learned to fear it's wrath."

Captain James Hook
They were at close quarters now, both ships slowed but still limping towards the reefs ahead, and shrouded by a gagging envelope of gunsmoke. Grapples flew out from the Jolly Roger, and poles reached to their extremities as the vessels, great and small, wrapped one another in a tight embrace of battle.

Screaming and bellowing deafening war-cries, the pirates continued to mob and charge across onto the merchant steam ship. They scrambled across
boarding planks, clambered over nets, or swung out on yard ends. Ferocious hand-to-hand fighting had broken out along the deck, two hundred blood-thirsty pirates each willing and eager to butcher them all.

Hook had drawn his sword, but didn't bother to use it, instead removing a silver case engraved with a name that he didn't answer to or introduce himself by, and a long double pronged cigar holder, which he used to light up and smoke two at once, being a man who had no truck with half measures. "Mister Mason? Attend if you will." He said, gesturing at the cabin with his hook. It gleamed wickedly as he did, and Alf Mason, in the midst of grappling a sailor still, so that he could bludgeon the man to death with his forehead, audibly gulped. "Take three strong men and batter the door down, then drag the captain out. I think I will accept his surrender now."

"And have someone do something about this infernal engine. Destroy it if you must, but this ship has run far enough now."

The Tygre

2014-01-05, 06:26 PM

Nemo

"A firebender," Nemo repeats, "Or an Avatar." The captain can't help but feel a minor twinge of worry for his crew; a vandal is one thing, but his sailors aren't equipped for a firebender. Nemo says, "We shall concern ourselves with the pipe later. Right now, we must find the rogue responsible for this. I will search the ship. Mr. Ishmael, I need you to get a tranquilizer and await my signal." With that order, Nemo starts searching the ship.

Cracklord

2014-01-05, 06:34 PM

Blackbeard
The sea air was cool, and they had made fair going but, in the lea of the land, the islands were heady and humid: jungle-draped cones that trilled with birdcalls and the ratchet of insects. It seemed as if they might run out of sea. The islands, cased with fuming green foliage, were more densely packed here than ever before. The Queen Anne's Revenge edged its way down channel throats and narrow runs, luxuriant green jungle spilling down like emerald cliffs to either side. Bright macaws and parrots darted from island to island overhead, and the ship was wont to glide through passages fraught with mist. The water was bright turquoise, speaking of a bottom perilously close to the ship’s keel. In bays swathed by rainforest, they anchored and rested.

Around nameless rainforest atolls they meandered a snaking course. Edward Teach knew every tideway and channel by heart, with no need of a chart or map. This had been his particular hunting ground of old, when he had still been counted a living man, at least. At some damnable hour of the pre-dawn — so late and yet so early that gods of the sky and sprites of the pit alike had taken to their beds — the captain emerged from his cabin for the first time in days, wandering the decks drunkenly, one hand still on his sword, the other clutching an empty rum bottle, staring down at the sea, watching roll of the ocean made glassy by the moonlight.

"Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony."

He said to himself as he watched, swaying with drink and something else, some feverish madness that took hold of him from time to time. The night was as dark and hot now as if a damp cloak had been drawn over the sky with the sun still in it. There was no relief from the humid warmth.

Larsen remained awake, tucked away against the foremast with a book of histories. The mortal crew were bellow decks, taking what respite they could in sleep and perchance in dream. The zombies worked still, large manlike figures wizened and hunched by age, weather and profession, and since the long, hideous thing that the Captain had done to them they had been pale and withdrawn, still marked by the course death had taken upon them. But the Captain saw none of them, still staring at the tiny islands on the coast of South America, looking for some sign.

Avery
His first consideration had to be the Countess. He had to get her to safety before he went back for Inigo, not that he imagined he would be in much shape to help the Spaniard, or that he could make him listen to reason. Inigo wouldn't see sense, not when his blood was up like this.

Which was why he had headed towards the kitchen, looking for a servant's entrance, or a side-door for deliveries, or some other manner of getting out of this place before the guards got organized and cornered him.

Inigo Montoya
Before Rocheforte's man could carry out his orders, the door opened, and the Spaniard was there, blade thin, six feet in height, straight as a sapling, bright-eyed and taut. Even motionless he seemed whippet quick. He was bleeding at the scalp and shoulder, he had no sword and the six-fingered man had his father's masterpiece, but these were trifles. Because the six-fingered man, at last, after twenty years, was within reach, and he desired revenge with all the fervor of his great Spanish heart.

Inigo stood still a moment, panting. Then he made a half-turn in the direction of Rochforte, and executed a quick and well-formed bow, not even seeming to see Febre. "Hello," He said, relishing the words. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

He had a plan, one that had succored him for twenty years. He would find the six-fingered man. He would go up to him. And he would say simply those words of introduction, and then the duel. It was a lovely plan, really. Simple. Direct. Easy to remember. No frills, or flourishes, or embellishments necessary, nothing to detract from the significance of what was occurring. In the beginning, he had all sorts of wild vengeance notions, but simplicity was the better way, he had decided, and now, looking at the man, he knew he was right.

Twenty years had changed him, he could see it. He'd grown a beard, lost an eye, and his dress had changed, but he recognized the man, how could he do otherwise? That eye was the same.

Draxx

2014-01-05, 06:53 PM

Rocheforte
Febre reached for his knife, with all the vicious pragmatism that defined him, but Rochforte slowly shook his head, not taking his attention off . His one eye narrowed as he examined the parallel scars, one down each of the man's cheeks. Slowly, comprehension dawned. He remembered where he had seen the sword before, he had commissioned the finest blade since Excalibur from some peasant outside Toledo, and the man had made this weapon. He remembered the mans brat had tried to kill him, and he'd put the boy in his place. He'd thought to kill him, but recognizing the latent talent he'd spared him out of sentiment, though not before humiliating the man.

"Aren't you that Spanish brat I taught a lesson to all those years ago? You have an over-developed sense of vengeance, it's going to get you into trouble some day." Rochforte shook his head slowly. “Joking aside, I bested you on that fair afternoon and I’ll do it again today.” He raised the sword, and pointed it at Inigo's breast. "En garde."

darkblade

2014-01-06, 11:46 PM

Blackbeard

"You expect to find signs of a sunken city on the surface?" Kenaway asks as he rises from the lower decks. He's been quiet and non-objectionable for most of the journey but occasionally dropping hints that what lay in Atlantis was not worth the trip.

The formation of islands you now sail through seem odd. You've been here before but never noticed how every palm seems to point due South even bending at unnatural angles to do so. The sign Kenaway was mocking you for looking for perhaps?

***

Avery

As you run you spot a coal shoot. Being the heart of summer it stands largely abandoned for the season, no one is watching it on either side. Or at least they shouldn't be, things have been rather crazy today.

***

Nemo

Your ship takes on a darker, more sinister atmosphere than usual as you search through it. Perhaps the knowledge that someone armed with mystical techniques and a rudimentary knowledge of how your ship works is lurking somewhere.

As you search you hear a familiar voice down the hall. "Put the swords down. We can work this out peacefully and I won't have to do anything reckless."

It's the Avatar she is on board after all and she was threatening your crew.

***

Hook

"The only way below deck is through doors sir." One of your men says before preparing to ram the door. The door starts to give but holds mostly strong.

Haddock grins as he turns the wheel. It doesn't matter if you stop him now the rocks are all but inevitable.

***

Barbossa

The woman sings and steps onto the Pearl. She walks past you and the other pirates until she comes to Ragetti who she touches gently. Ragetti mutters something about how she has come for him before they both fade into the aether.

The wind is still, whatever that woman was you are stuck on her patch of sea and she has one of your men.

***

Popeye

Dragging the goods to the store you find it empty. No people, no goods, nothing. Your men come back and tell you that the whole town in empty. Everyone is gone.

Aric Kale

2014-01-06, 11:57 PM

Barbossa

The pirate lord stares with an open mouth as this siren steals one of his crew. He and his men pause for a moment before Barbossa shouts out orders. At first, Hector was going to try and recover his piece of eight, but that being was too powerful, he could tell just by looking. Instead, he has the men break out the oars and start paddling away from this godforsaken patch of ocean.

ThePhantom

2014-01-07, 12:07 AM

Popeye

Dragging the goods to the store you find it empty. No people, no goods, nothing. Your men come back and tell you that the whole town in empty. Everyone is gone.

"BLUTO!"

He was here, and there's no way he would just stand by and let Olive Oyl get kidnapped, that's what he usually does. That means he has to know where she is.

Also, with no goods, that's a bit of a problem. The ship does needs to refresh its supplies and with the town empty, about the only thing possible to restock is the water.

"Spread out and find him!"

Cracklord

2014-01-09, 03:32 AM

Blackbeard
He did not reply to Kenway, his eyes still fixed on the jungle as the ship drifted past. At last, the ship came to rest at the mouth of a river, and he snapped out of his reverie, command making it's way across him once more. "Take not a drop." He warned the quartermaster. Supplies had been stretched to near breaking, the men on a cup a day, and fresh water was a serious consideration, but Edward didn't care. As long as there was enough rum to drown him, the rest of the crew could die and he'd barely notice. "The river is poison. If it passes your lips, even the very thing you fear shall seem a mercy."

"Prepare a boat, Larsen. We're going ashore. Just myself, and master Kenway here. His talents may be of use." He turned to the living men, and his hand stroked his sword. The entire ship seemed to vibrate as it did. "Sesto, you have the ship." He said, turning to his master gunner. "My eyes are upon you." He said, the world seeming to grow colder as he spoke, the shadows becoming more pronounced, so that the contrast was all the more chilling. As his face receded, becoming a indistinct shape in the dark, his eyes glittered. "My hand is clutched around your heart, and your soul I carry in my pocket. Remember that."

"To shore."

AnimeKid

2014-01-09, 12:40 PM

Luffy

Luffy looks over at the woman with the bug for a head and then points at her. "Zoro look! It's the bug lady I punched! What do you think she want? She didn't come to take the gold did she! I can't let her do that, Nami would get made if she found out I lost gold."

Draxx

2014-01-10, 04:34 AM

Captain Hook
The fight was out of the merchants. Hook left a few of his men to finish the task of massacring them, without much concern. There would always be a few prisoners, and it made his crew happy. Their blood was up, and the men had asked for it, running like that.

He snarled then, as much in surprised admiration as anger at the sheer gall of the captain. You didn't meet a lot of merchantmen so willing to do what it takes. Of course, this was a profoundly bad time for the man to find his courage. "Cut the Jolly Roger loose." He growled, putting out his two cigars on the neck of Alf Mason. The Neck muscles went taut with agony, and Mason's mouth opened in a silent scream at the terrible burning sensation, but he didn't voice a complaint, and the rest of the crew carefully avoided their captain's glare. Being the bearer of bad news was not a healthy role to play among his crew, one that they were all keen to avoid.

Hook drew his pistol, priming it with his hook in an expert movement that was marvelous to see, then pointed it at the mass of men. He did not brandish it, or flourish it, or any of the other little indications that let them know he was less then serious. "What are you waiting for? Cut the Jolly Roger loose, and bring her about! Weigh anchor and slacken sails! See if you can't loose this infernal momentum!" He turned to his crew. "As for the rest of us, unless you wish to be intimately reacquainted with your mortality, then it it's not too much trouble get that blasted door open!" Perhaps his ship could be saved, but he was aboard this one, heading full bore into the abyss. His only chance was to take control, and do it fast.

"Not with your hands and fists, you buffoons! You'd have better luck using those thick skulls of yours! Powder! Pistol shot, anything you have! That door is solid steel, if any of you have the sense God gave maggots I suggest you blow the damn door off it's hinges!" For emphasis he shot a pirate at random, then threw the pistol aside and drew a fresh one from within his voluminous coat. "Those of you who aren't useful, cut the grapples and remove the bridge! Quickly now, your lives depend on me being convinced you are working to a standard!"

Rochforte
Waving Febre over, Rochforte stripped off his ornamental breastplate, hat and cloak, handing them to his second, then waved him away and smiled like a wolf. Keeping a skip in his step, like a dancer, he advanced forward with all the confidence of a man who has a sword and knows his enemy doesn't. Even covered in blood, the weapon in his hands gleamed. It was undoubtedly a masterwork, in the twenty years he had possessed it not once had Inigo needed to take a whetstone to it's edge or worry about rust. It was as close to a perfect weapon s had likely ever existed, but to Rocheforte it was just a sharp edge to poke holes in people with, albeit one that fit his hand better then most.

"The weapon is suitable to butcher pigs, though what more would one expect from a peasant?" He said, indicating Lardo with a contemptuous flick of his head. "Let's see if it's up to the task of cutting down a callow boy." He sneered, though Inigo was one and thirty, then lunged as he finished his sentence, looking to skewer the Spaniard's heart in a single, swift movement. He had little reason for concern, he was an acknowledged master, one of the best in Europe. What was there to fear from this man?

The Tygre

2014-01-10, 05:56 PM

Nemo

Nemo was hoping to sneak up on the intruder so he could signal Mr. Ishmael. And what's worse, the Avatar. A firebender he might have been able to stand up against, but this reckless girl... to engage her directly might destroy the whole Nautilus. Damn for wont of a harpoon gun! His crew was still searching the ship, and soon Ishmael would come looking for him with the tranquilizer. If he could stall her until then, than he might at least have a chance to get the upper hand. Nemo lowers his sword as he says, "I did not take the Avatar to resort to such dishonorable tactics; skulking about like a thief in the night. Sabotage. Murder. Am I really such a threat to your 'neutrality' that one of my men had to die? Or perhaps it is that you owe fealty to the Empire already?"

Cracklord

2014-01-11, 09:19 PM

Inigo Montoya
As Rochforte advanced, Inigo circled to his left, keeping his eye on the point of his father's sword, his hands open and twitching, ready for action. He watched Rocheforte's advance, the way he moved, keeping an eye on his footwork and the way he held his weapon extended, and referencing it against his spatial awareness. Rochforte had not exaggerated his skill, the man was a true master, but Inigo had expected nothing less. He would prefer a flashy, dynamic style, bold cuts and lunges, favoring the offense, instinctive rather then technical. That too was a strength. This room favored such a tactic, with little room to maneuver. The inverse bonetti then, to start, but after that, who knew?

At the last moment, he sprang into action, grabbing Lardo's chair and throwing it at the advancing swordsman. In the moment that bought him, he used the heavy desk as a springboard to jump into the air and grab hold of the chandelier. Not having been designed with such derring-do in mind, crystals came loose and plaster fell from the ceiling, but Inigo was able to swing over Rochefort's head and let go, landing next to the fireplace. He grabbed one of the ornamental swords behind the shield, then turned once more to face the six-fingered man.

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montaya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." He repeated, making a few minute adjustments to his grip on the blade as he factored in the weight and balance. It was not a weapon he favored or specialized with, and the edge was dull, and too heavy for fancy bladework. A pity, but that was nothing. First, he would take his sword back from his enemy he thought with a smile, and lunged.

Blackbeard
It had been a long time since Blackbeard's pet viking Larsen had done anything as menial as rowing, but he put his back into it, easing the oar against its thole pins. Chopping the calm water with the wake of their passage, the longboat cleared the Queen Anne and turned into the cove. The rocky promontories quickly hid the anchored ship from them. The last sight Edward had of the ship was its figurehead, then even that was gone.

They rowed into the cove of the Island. It was a wide, shallow basin, so lousy with coral the bellies of the longboats scraped and dragged. Larsen smoothly changed direction, and headed to the mouth of the river, a vague trace between walls of ebony. The oars that propelled the long boat creeping along in the dense shadow of the eastern bank dipped softly into the water, making no more noise than the beak of a heron. Everything seemed blue in the dense gloom. Even the keen eyes of the man who knelt in the prow would discern anything more than a few feet ahead of them. They were feeling their way forward by instinct.

The silence of the jungle was unnatural. No insects sang in the lofty boughs, nor did any rustling in the bushes indicate the presence of small animals. The stillness of the jungle was so primeval that the sound of a voice was almost alarming. "These islands are of dark renown." Blackbeard said, slowly unrolling the scroll he'd brought with him, revealing it to be an old map, the ink long having faded to a few indistinct lines that could have represented anything, and a single, vivid 'X' in bright red, like a splotch of blood. "Time has forgotten them, and they hearken back to a bygone time the world is well rid of."

Larsen laughed without humor, lights like the gleam of the sun on blue water dancing in his reckless eyes. "Barbarism is the natural state of mankind," he replied, his finely chiseled countenance give life by that which he spoke of. "Civilization is unnatural. It is a whim of circumstance, which will endure only as long as we are fat and in plenty. And so barbarism must always ultimately triumph."

"Maybe so, but these lands are all that remains of the time before men. The first worlds. Their mark is all but gone, but in a few places, the temples that first race built can still be found. But they guarded their secrets well, and primeval monsters still wander these lands. Nevertheless, the answers that we seek reside in a ruined Temple, somewhere in Skull island."

Corvond

2014-01-11, 10:24 PM

Sharpe
The room went quiet as the patrons saw a tall man, blond haired, with a face darkened by a foreign sun and scarred by a foreign blade, a strong face that was given a mocking look by the scarred left cheek. That mocking expression vanished when Sharpe smiled, but he was not smiling as he stalked into building. He might have worn no badges of rank, but there was something about his face, about the sword at his side and about the battered hilt of the rifle slung on his shoulder that spoke of something far beyond their understanding.

Hagman was the oldest man in the Battalion; perhaps he was over fifty, no one really knew. Rifleman and ex-poacher, he was steady as a rock during battle, but less so times like these. Sharpe shook his head. This was no time for half measures. He was a colonel, godsdammit. An officer. Things like this didn't present a problem for an officer. Officers had a tried and tested way of solving problems like this. It was called a sergeant.

Regimental Sergeant Major Harper was even taller then Sharpe, an enormous, fierce seeming Irish man, who perhaps alone in the Battalion had no fear of Richard Sharpe's anger, for Harper had fought beside Sharpe in every battle of this long war with France. The Irish man loomed above the two men, and the room went very quiet.

"In Dublin, a man's caught cheating we nail his hand to the table." He mused philosophically, as though he couldn't imagine it had any relevance to the occasion.

Hornblower
In the hushed ceremonial procession that followed Captain Hornblower saw exactly what he had expected to see - a naval vessel ready for inspection, holding it's collective breath. The ship bore as much resemblance to its ordinary self as the rigid bosun, sweating in a uniform coat that must have been shaped with an adze, did to the same man in his shirt-sleeves, puddening the topsail yard in a heavy swell; yet there was an essential relationship, and the snowy sweep of the deck, the painful brilliance of the two brass quarter-deck four-pounders, the precision of the cylinders in the cable-tier and the parade-ground neatness of the galley's pots and tubs all had a meaning, and, he thought, an important one.

Like all good captains, he saw and appreciated all he was meant to see. He was blind to the things he was not meant to see - there hadn't been time to fix everything, after all, and made his inspection of both the crew and the ship without any great hiccups.

darkblade

2014-01-11, 11:47 PM

Sharpe

"Well I'm sure your carpenters want for no nails then since you're so blind." The man continues, a little less sure of himself though. He waves his blade around without aim. "Now give me my money!"

***

Hornblower

Indeed the boats are all sound. You'll be set to sail at first light, assuming Sharpe and your men don't find themselves any trouble tonight.

***

Blackbeard

Kenaway scoffs. "You're idolizing beasts. Large chickens and seagulls condemned to the land trapped by destiny from joining their kin in the skies."

A tiny beast peaked out at you from within the tree line. The size of a small dog it's elongated and tooth filled skull draped in matted feathers. You get a sense that it is sizing you up, measuring you as a threat.

***

Nemo

"Sabotage! Do I look like I'd need to sabotage your ship?" The Avatar asked seemingly unconcerned by your threats.

"If I wanted to destroy the Nautilis I'd have made the sea eat it the moment it surfaced in the harbour."

***

Hook

The steam engine sputters and slows. With no one down below to feed it coal it only could do so much, now it has started to stall. It'll only bought you time though, no more than fifteen minutes. Enough time to loot the hold though.

The door to the cabin falls off it's hinges with one more ram leaving it's Captain open to you. He draws a revolver and points it at you. "Come any closer and I'll blow your brains out you protoplasmic embryo!"

***

Popeye

"Bluto? He's not here either sir." Your men say.

Bluto smiles wickedly to your side. "Oh, they can't see me. I've been hanging on by a thread just to pass on a message to you. Check the back room, go on it's unlocked."

***

Barbossa

The Black Pearl is a big ship. The oars propel it but very slowly. Drifting in the tides would almost be faster. The strain of rowing blisters a few men's hands and they find themselves marked just as Ragetti was before the siren took him.

"Captain what do we do?"

You can hear her gentle melody start again and the marked men's eye grow wide with fear.

ThePhantom

2014-01-11, 11:52 PM

Popeye

Well, that can't be good.

"Bluto, if ye be a ghost, it won't stop me from giving ye a licking."

Popeye slowly goes to the back room, dreading what might be there.

Cracklord

2014-01-12, 12:13 AM

Edward Teach
He bared his teeth at it in a silent grimace, and reached for a pistol, then thought better of it, and satisfied himself with a glare. In the deep jungle where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. He had no wish to rouse their attention, not yet. Not like this. Better to watch, and to wait. "And why not?" Blackbeard replied to Kenway, but it was Larsen who answered.

"Are the works of man such that he may attain precedence over the beasts of the earth and the birds of the air? Though he may walk across the skin of the ocean, do those that swim within pay him homage? Though he has spread to the four corners of the earth, does it serve him beyond making war upon himself? Though he may take to the air, rare though the privilege is, he has no mastery over the heavens/" He gestured at the jungle with a hand, then picked up his oar and resumed rowing without missing a stroke.

"Mock these creatures, but do so knowing they were old when mankind was young, and shall remain long after he is gone. It makes no difference to them what men think of them. They endure. As well ask men what they think of war, or of stone. They were always here. For all mans artifice and hoarded knowledge it avails him not, for we are powerless to bring civilization here. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.”

Blackbeard smiles at the words, but doesn't add to them. Larsen was warming to his subject heartily. "I have always been a sailor, what I know I taught myself. The seas are deep, mark thee, and many a scaly monster lurks down in the court of King Death. The bull-whale, the krakoon, the serpent, the sea-lizard. And, when they wake and rise and make their ravage upon the waters of the surface, tell me then of the greatness of human endeavor and the triumph of man over nature. Some are so great, men mistake them for islands, and land there upon them, and kindle fires. Some are mighty swallowers of vessels. All are adapted to perfection, gods by any definition that matters.”

“In my time, I have twice seen them. At a great distance. The horned back of a serpent, breaking the waves. And also, a thing of many, oozing arms, each one longer than a tall ship’s mast. No closer I’d care to get. Yourself?” It's almost a challenge, daring you to disagree with his nihilistic assessment of humanity.

Draxx

2014-01-12, 01:31 AM

Rochforte
Rochforte lunged forward and the blades struck against each other three times, fast as a snake strikes. Then he broke and circled, and they came together again, their swords lashing and parrying so rapidly it was difficult to follow. The chime of metal upon metal rang like a furiously-shaken hand-bell. Such was the speed and expertise displayed by the two men sufficient that Febre almost broke into applause.

"I gave you an order, Febre." Rochforte said, not taking his eyes off the spaniard. "Fire the magazine. Now." Then he pressed the attack once more, sweeping in at Inigo's right quarter guard, and the drive led to the longest rally exchange of the duel so far. Seventeen blows traded in four seconds, blade slithering against blade. Rocheforte turned his last half-parry into a low lunge that grazed his sabre down the length of Inigo’s blade and in through his half-guard. But at the last second, Inigo brilliantly twitched his wrist out and over and hooked Silvaro’s swordpoint away. Rocheforte had to skip backwards to avoid being run through by the riposte.

“My compliments, boy.” The Cardinal's man said. “Your hand is good and your eye better. You’ve read your Rocco Bonetti.”

Hook
"Take him alive." he demanded. The dozen men around him, caught between fear of the Captain, and fear of Hook, chose the latter, and swarmed Haddock. Hook could hardly believe his eyes. "Sir Francis? Alive? How?" he asked himself, as the prisoners were forced onboard the Jolly Roger and the hold broken open by looters, looking to carry everything they could.

Cracklord

2014-01-12, 02:47 AM

Inigo
From cover to cover, not that Inigo mentioned it, allowing the moment's respite as he plotted reprisal. His assessment for his enemy had grown, the two of them were well-matched indeed. Inigo's blood was pumping, and his eyes were bright, but the six-fingered man was as cold as ice.

His reach was long, Inigo thought, and older though he was, the six-fingered man was perhaps the stronger. What was worse, his blade was clumsy, ill-suited to this sort of swordplay, but he could take advantage of that as well. His blade flashed, as he changed styles, using the whirling heavier blade to force Rocheforte back. Glittering blades rasped, feet slithered minutely, altering balance and the duel with most miniscule changes in footwork, and Inigo breathed brilliantly through his nostrils, wild and furious. "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

Then an opening. Faster then sight, his blade lashed forward, and left a cut down Rocheforte's right cheek, mirroring the one he had been given twenty years ago. It served no purpose, it was a mark of dishonor, nothing more, nothing less.

Avery
The very image of a gentleman, he made his way down, his feet making no sound at all on the stone steps. He stopped at the doorway and wished he had a sword, then opened the door and glanced about, to see if he had been observed, before beckoning the countess down. "You'll be safe. I have a friend in port." He admitted, in the manner of a man with a single guilty secret that keeps on coming to light no matter what he tries to do to keep it suppressed. Given the sort of man he was, it was difficult to imagine him hiding anything, or even having anything to hide, but there were some associations that were difficult to shake.

* * * * *

Colonel Tom Blood, cashiered, bought out, and all to obviously our Anti-Hero, was residing in his logdings, a seedy attic with a leaky ceiling and the paper peeling off the walls in damp strips and clutter everywhere. If a man owned both this and the Black Hole of Calcutta, he'd rent this place out and live in the hole. King Louis the Thirteenth, to pick a name entirely at random, would have detested the place, finding insufficiently full of mirrors, and demanded that the dirty plates were removed, that a carpet was put on the floorboards to cover the dirt, or better yet just have the place burned down. Rousseau, to continue this trend, would have found this place unconductive to advancing thought, and thus would not have cared to stay in it. Hercules would have taken one look, then left and returned with a man-portable river soon after. It was, in short, a dump, and almost completely incapable of supporting life. Even the fleas avoided it.

It's owner isn't in much better shape. He has five pence in his pocket, his linen is foul, his boots are cracked, he hasn't shaved, there's nothing for breakfast but the stale heel of a loaf and pump water, and his railing harridan of a landlady has just shrieked abusively up the stairs to remind him that he is six weeks behind with the rent in broken english, punctuated by Spanish profanities and threats of retaliation. To most anyone, this would look like rock-bottom.

But Colonel Blood is Irish and an optimist, and lies on his unmade bed with his hands behind his head, whistling and planning how to fix the mess he's in. Oh, there were slight concerns - like poverty, hunger and a shocking reputation - but he felt that these were trifles to a resourceful lad who had once come within an ace of stealing the Crown Jewels.

He was a dashing rascal who, if not classically handsome, gifted with a roguish distinction given his sleepy dark eyes, ready smile, and easy Irish charm. Tall, well-made, perhaps not as slim as he would have liked, but trim and fast on his feet for all that; an affable, deceptively easy-going gentleman and quite a favorite with the less discriminating ladies. A tricky, dangerous villain, though, when he had to be, which was deplorably often, for of all the Colonel's many and curious talents, finding trouble was always the first.

Shnyder

2014-01-13, 05:57 AM

Corvo Attano
The cold wisp of a man drifts forward, his movements fluid and unhurried, but eerie. He seemed to have no weight, no substance, as though he had been composed entirely out of shadow, and may drift away at any moment as though he had never been. He is still curiously soundless, he doesn't seem to breathe, his feet make no sound upon the floor, and watching him it is easy to imagine he does not even posses a pulse.

He allowed himself a momentary lapse in his careful observing of his surroundings as he closes his eyes, and begins to concentrate. First he moved his fingers one at a time, to keep the blood flowing and double check that his fine motor skills were up to the task. He was already at a disadvantage, and he had no desire to see the handicap grow when some simple preparation would offset it. Satisfied, Corvo cracked his neck slowly, noting the slight limp that the guard had for the hundredth time and ever so slowly allowing himself the luxury of a predatory smile.

He could not afford to leave France. It would be too difficult to return. And so it was time to act.

Corvo suddenly exploded into action so surprisingly brutal it was almost hypnotic. Pulling upon the chains with a sharp tug, he ripped them out of his captor's hands, then swung them around the legs of a second, knocking him off his feet to sprawl on the ground. A single brutal stomp put him out of commission, though not fatally. The second took an elbow to his midsection, then two clenched fists to the jaw, and the third had his legs kicked from under him before he even noticed what was happening.

For a moment, Corvo and Javert lock eyes, two men dedicated beyond all reason to their task. Their was kinship there, but not one that would ever come to life.

Corvo turned and ran, holding his arms above his head to protect his face as he launched himself through the window, and down the side. The fall would kill him, but he cracked the chains like a whip, catching the side of the ship and arresting his fall, letting him swing back to the top of the prison. Then he ran along the wall, closed his eyes, and leapt into the ocean, hoping the sea would take him far from here.

Draxx

2014-01-13, 07:48 AM

Rochforte
If he felt the wound, he didn't show it in the slightest, giving ground steadily, the Stwo swords ringing out eight, hard chings from high, sweeping cuts. Their swords rattled against each other, fifteen passes, twenty, Rocheforte short-parrying each deadly thrust and lunge. By luck, more than skill, The Cardinal's man kept the Spaniard’s blade at bay and his skin intact, before Rochforte stepped into his guard and slid his blade against Inigo's vis-a-vis until the guards locked and the two of them were pushing and shoving against each other like wrestlers. “And you’ve studied your Thibault.” He added, his wolfish grin unsettling in the greatest regard.

Inigo’s expertise favoured blade-play, but in more physical competition, Rochforte’s size and strength had the advantage. Inigo was shouldered backwards, and found himself forced to break in a clumsy, frantic fashion, almost maneuvered against the wall his haste. Rocheforte followed him with a savage slice that forced him further back still.

To Inigo, it looked like Rochforte was slowing down. The Spaniard was still tight and quick, energised, but the Frenchman was beginning to tire. He’d clearly been relying on the fact that if he closed with his adversary and brought it down to brute strength, he would win. Inigo would not be fooled into a wrestling match again.

Rochforte lunged and forced Inigo into a double parry that kicked sparks from the blade edges. Taking advantage of the opening it offered, he feinted, thrust in at the lower right quarter with a dazzling down-point cut, pivoted forward, bested Inigo’s guard with a half-lunge and fast riposte, and pinked the Spaniard's leg.

"But I studied under Thibault." He continued. “Perhaps in time you could have avenged your father, but you came in too broad, too early. You were ambitious, reckless. I like that in a man. It was bravura, that you can almost back up. Only the very best could have out-guessed you, and only the very best of them could out-fight you either.” He lifted up his guard. "And that is I."

Corvond

2014-01-13, 10:02 AM

Sharpe figured that as long as this was being resolved, he might as well head over and enjoy himself a drink or two. Paying the whole melodrama no more heed whatsoever, he headed over to the bar and dropped a few oddly demonitioned coins on the surface, then indicated the whiskey. He preferred small beers, but in a place like this they put salt in the drinks to keep men thirsty, and he had a turn-out to arrange tomorrow, if they were to catch the tide.

The Regimental sergeant major rolled his eyes at the outburst and cuffed the man gently with a hand like earth moving equipment, knocking him back into his seat before he can do something really stupid that provokes the men further then they already are. Chances are this was all a misunderstanding, but not a week ago these men had stood in ranks facing crack regiments down, death a hairsbreadth away. They were understandably twitchy, and it was his job to smooth things over

For a moment, the man feels an outburst coming, but before he can speak he feels eyes on him, and realizes that fifty or so hard-cases sitting around the common room have their eye him. Each of them is grizzled, tough, scarred and dangerous, a veteran of the fields of europe.

"The least of me is still out of your reach, friend." Harper said, stressing the last word, his formerly conversational burr now laced with rough threat. "Now, why don't you tell me what happened, and we can decide if you keep your winnings or not."

darkblade

2014-01-13, 06:23 PM

Popeye

"I know Popeye. I know." Bluto sighed as you head back to find a skeleton with the once muscular frame picked away by rodents and rot there is nothing left to identify the body but a familiar black and yellow uniform.

In his hands he held a note.

"We have the woman known as Olive. Return Uther Doul to Armada if you want to see her alive.
-- The Lovers

***

Blackbeard

The feathered beast snarls at you briefly before disappearing into the bush. It's obvious you haven't seen the last of it.

Kenaway dismisses the Viking's arguments. "When the Lovers brought Armada to Nassu they didn't do it by steam or sail. They were pulled by an Avnac. A beast to huge and powerful that it's mere presence brought tidal waves of displaced water to flood the city. Every ship in port took a shot at it but we couldn't even bruise it's flesh. Forgive me for not being so in awe about large iguanas."

Up ahead a short ways you see the remnants of an ancient dock, right on path to your destination.

***

Hook

Haddock manages to wound one of your men with his pistol before he is subdued. Dragged before you he spits. "Scurvy ridden parrie dog."

((Sir Francis? What?))

***

Avery

Thomas meets you with a gleeful smile. "Avery! It's been a long time."

He then scans your companion. "And Lord Lardo's fiance..."

The door to the slum house slams right in your face. Thomas Blood was optimistic and fool hardy but he was laying low, kidnapping the governor's wife to be would not help him in that endeavour one little bit.

***

Corvo

Javert shouts profanities at you from afar. He doesn't have the means to give chase to you now but you know from that one glance that he will move heaven and earth to find a prisoner that escapes his charge.

As you swim through the polluted water (the run off from a prison is quite unpleasant) you notice the vague form of a woman swimming far up ahead. What would a woman be doing in a place like this?

***

Sharpe and Hornblower

The man lowered his weapon, quickly becoming aware of just how foolish he was being. "I didn't mean nothing by it I swear."

Before anything else can be said he makes for the door, not even bothering to take the slim remains of his money. Now would be as good a time as any to inform your men about their mission.

Aric Kale

2014-01-13, 07:44 PM

Barbossa

The irate Captain is slowly quickly losing his patience, calling out to the ocean. Sea-Devil! Come out and explain yourself! He takes his pistol in his left hand, holding his cutlass in his right. Should the siren appear, he'll fire first and attempt to slash it with his blade next.
Unfortunately, during the hubbub, he ends up scratching his left thumb on his flintlock. Damn thing.

ThePhantom

2014-01-13, 08:31 PM

Popeye

Popeye reads the note and then stares at the remains. Bluto wouldn't have gone down easily, and something is off. Its too soon. That's it, too soon for this to happen for that reason. But that doesn't change the fact that these people have Olive.

"They'll be pa'ing for this. Ye desired better, and I'll be given it. Men! Get in here and bury him right."

Popeye steps out from the back room, muttering to himself. He has a voyage to plan, and a floating city to locate.

"f anyone dares to risk my Fisk,
It's Boff and it's Wham, understan'?
So keep good behavior
That's your one lifesaver
With Popeye the Sailor Man."

(The too soon part is from the fact that from what you said, its only been a few hours at most since Popeye captured the swordman, and people don't go to that state in only a few hours.)

Cracklord

2014-01-13, 08:31 PM

Ben Avery
He slumps a little against the doorframe, closing his eyes a moment to gather his powers, and takes a deep breath. His foot is barely responsive through the wall of pain, his shoulder is worse, and his skull still aches from the bullet. Even plucky determination has it's limits, and Avery had surpassed them quite some time ago.

At first glance, Avery and Blood couldn't be more different. Avery was absolutely steadfast, decent, honorable, gallant and infallibly chivalrous and gentlemanly (as noted, much to the disappointment of almost every woman who has glanced upon him), and more importantly, his moral fiber has a higher tensile strength than spider silk. In contrast, Thomas Blood was, to be somewhat generously accurate, a cad, a bounder and yes, even a poltroon.

But there was nothing priggish about Avery, he would give anyone a chance, and he had a manner of bringing the best out of people, whether is was convincing a spanish drunk who had taken to wine because life was empty that he could still achieve great things, or make the romantic core of Colonel Blood, deeply insulated by cynicism, healthy self-interest as it was. Over their friendship, Blood had tried to kill him twice, and betray him three times at least, but for all that, there was a kind of horrifies mutual like. Just the same, Blood could only be counted upon if the friendship didn't cost him too much.

Which was why Avery did something very close to telling a lie. Well, let's be honest, it was, to an impartial observer, certainly a lie, but in Avery's mind it was only a matter of time until it came true, and so it could, at most, be called an exaggeration as far as he was concerned. He knocked on the door again, swaying each time he did given he could barely hold himself upright. "I have a ship, colonel." Avery said, emphasizing the last word.

Inigo
The spaniard was steel and knotted oak, the words didn't touch him. He had pushed himself to the very finest peak of perfection, and his confidence was absolute. Power flowed up from Inigo's heart to his right shoulder, and down from his shoulder to his fingers, and from his fingers into the broadsword, clumsy though it was, and they crossed swords once more. Inigo allowed him to be pushed back, then disengaged smoothly, stepping to the left, and cutting down one of the heavy velvet curtains above the window and throwing it over the Frenchman, entangling him in it's heavy folds. As Rochforte struggled to free himself, Inigo stepped around him, returning to the center of the room, then turned, and altered his stance once more. Inigo Montaya was a swordsman gifted beyond almost any other, the dance and feint of swordplay came as naturally to him as breathing. He knew moves and parries that sword masters the length of Europe would have gladly sold up their schools to learn.

But there came a time when skill itself was no longer enough. There came a time when a man had to learn from others about sheer courage and win out that way. What mattered most was not a man’s talent, or his handiness with the steel. What mattered most was his heart, and the fibre of his soul. Only that measure could truly win the day.

Except here.

He'd under-estimated his enemy, after all that time spent in preparation, but that was a mistake he wouldn't make again. The second Rocheforte was free, Inigo was on him again. There was a flash, and another cut, parallel, bleeding, across his other cheek. Another flash, and he'd pinked Rochforte's leg parallel to his own. "Hello, my name is Inigo Montaya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

Draxx

2014-01-14, 03:15 AM

Hook
Hook reclined at his ease on a convenient capstan he'd placed on the Jolly Roger for just such an eventuality, and threw up a hand to silence the motley mob swarming beneath - bearded white faces, coal-black Nubians, slant-eyed Chinese devils, swarty asiatics, squat and evil Malays - the usual lot on pirate ships in those days. "It does not behoove ye to insult a gentleman, sir." he replied, with a mocking smile. The anger that had seized him aboard the merchant ship had disolved like an election pledge, and now he was at his most sinister, polite and charming with the airs of a gentleman, which is probably the truest test of breeding. "But I will forgive you. And aye, your men as well, in exchange for an apology." The crew of the Karaboudjan, those few who had survived, were gathered among the pirates, prodded with cutlasses and muskets.

He indicated his Spanish leather shoes, with their gold buckles, and smiled. "Clean my boots. If you lick 'em clean, so I can see my face in them, you, and your crew besides can go free." This might seem gratuitously cruel, but it was the nature of the man. The pirates of his day, back when the fashion was such, were nothing if not spectacular in fatal invention. While a man of pragmatism if he wished to dispose of an enemy would simply shoot the devil, the Coast Brethren got up to dodges a civilized man would hardly believe.

Hook was reckoned a master of it in his day, using such diverse means of leaving tarantula eggs to hatch out of a tea cosy, or suspending men face down over the dreaded maguay plant, which has a nasty sharp point and grows two feet overnight(!), or once even chaining a man in an underground cellar with the tide coming in, which slowly lifted a burning candle inch by inch until it smouldered through a rope, from which dangled a glittering guillotine blade, which fell to break a phial containing acid, which ate it's way through the lock of a boxful black mambas. (Unfortunately, the incoming tide drowned them before they could get up to any mischief, but he got credit for trying.)

"Well, captain, what do you say?" He asked, with a sneer, and his crew got a little more enthusiastic with the points of their blades.

Rochforte
The Frenchman sallied forward after freeing himself from the curtain, riding a low parry into a half-thrust, and almost speared Inigo through the throat. He was bleeding now, and heavily, his breath was shortening and his brow heavy with sweat, but if he felt the ebb of his powers he made no outward sign. "Stop saying that!" He growled, perhaps beginning to experience something like a decline of nerve. He had to keep this going, keep it going long enough for Febre to fire the magazine, and the explosions to start. It was his only chance, because he certainly couldn't best this man who had come from nowhere to drive Rochforte closer to death then he'd ever been.

Their weapons flashed, from prime to octave, high lines and low, with imbroccata, stoccata, alongez, then back again the two lithe figures shuffling, gliding and lunging with what looked like a bright buzz-saw flickering and clashing between them, too fast for the eye to follow, their shadows fighting along the wall beside them like huge grotesque seconds.

Cracklord

2014-01-14, 04:15 AM

Blackbeard
Larsen concedes the point, and continues his rowing, falling silent once more. A bend in the river was coming up, and then, if the ancient map could be trusted, they would be in sight of the temple the serpent people had erected, in a time before even legend remembered.

Blackbeard was a not a simple man, whatever one might think. There was always more to him. He was more. Like the elephant described by blind men. He had many aspects. But all were monstrous, in different ways. He didn't belong to the darkness. He was the darkness. But he was other things as well.

And here, far from his ship and the reminders of the turn his existence had taken, far from his crew and his sorceries and his skulls and his obsessions, perhaps something could be recognized of the man he had been. Something of the man who had stood by Edward Kenaway come hell or high water ever since he had placed his bloody thumb-print confidently beside Edward's on the New Providence Manifesto, telling Woodes Rogers exactly what he could do with his Royal Pardon.

Blackbeard stared a long time at the map, then shook his head and he spoke again, changing the subject. And there is sentiment in his voice, as there was that first time he saw you. Somewhere, in whatever was left of his tattered soul, he still found it in him to care. "I remember when I killed Edward Newgate. You were my King, whatever the Brethren Court decided in favor of, so I did it, because nobody else could, because you asked me to do so, and because I wanted to. He was a mighty man, as I recall, but the sea was mightier then he in the end." He said, with a harsh bark of cruel laughter. That had been a battle, and then some. The Brethren Court had been in terror of him ever since.

"But then, I have done many things in my life, things I would never expect you to do. I am capricious and ill-humored, and I ply one course on one day, and on the next, another. But you, Edward, you were a single-minded pirate-prince, free, impetuous and phlegmatic, and owned by no man or master. I always admired that, and I cannot think how you have allowed your will to be bent by the hopeless cause of the Old Man in the Mountain." He sighed. "I haven't the gift of foresight, but I can see that this is not a blessing, it is an albatross around your neck. All that you seek to build will be stolen from you by this poison. You would do better to cast it off, while you are free to do so, and think instead of yourself. What profit a man to gain the world if he lose himself?"

Larsen shook his head. "Men seek immortality, and don't know what to do with it once they have it. The world is a greater enemy then time, because it sees no distinction between the multitude of elements that comprise it. None are favored, or given prominence. The universe simply creates, it cannot control that which it creates, and whatever men may delude themselves to believe, it can neither be controlled by it's creations. Those who curse it curse that which is deaf. Those who shake their fists do so against blind stars, forever out of reach. It is insouciant, and inviolate, and efforts are better striven towards seeking pleasure and happiness, hollow though both of these are."

The boat beached itself against the edge of the river, and he smoothly retracted the oars, and lay them in place. "We're here." he announced, stepping out of the long-boat, and easily beaching it completely with a heave of his powerful shoulders, then taking the smooth-bore musket from the bottom and loading it, standing vigil over their way back to the ship.

Shnyder

2014-01-14, 09:15 PM

Corvo
The fall didn't kill Corvo, though it knocked the air from his lungs in the sudden shock, and for a moment he spun, unable to remember which way led to the surface. The water was colder then he had expected, and he almost lost himself. He flailed ineffectually, unable to gain propulsion with his arms, then he kicked, finally breaching the surface and taking a welcome breath, his matted hair now thickly coated in salt and grime. He went under again shortly after, swimming was difficult with his hands bound with the long length of chain, which continually pulled him towards the bottom like an anchor. When he surfaced his eyes fluttered, opening and closing at an alarming rate as he tried to stay afloat and more importantly conscious.

His efforts were focused on keeping himself afloat, trusting the current to carry him from the prison and back to the mainland. In truth, it would leave him trapped out at sea, but it was the only alternative. And the flying ship would never be able to find him, not one lone man in miles of trackless ocean. He simply had to live, live no matter what, and he would find some way to get to shore.

As he struggled to keep his head above water, he caught a movement in the corner of his eyes, and blinked. A woman moving gracefully beneath the water, seeming to float through it, perfectly at home. There was something familiar about her, the way she moved, the way she almost looked like... No impossible.

Wasted as he was, he had little more to give, and the sea was too strong for him. At last he closed his eyes, and slowly felt the world slip away and go dark. His body, without his frantic efforts to keep it up, began to slowly submerge as the sea pulled him down, until at last, he fell completely unconscious.

darkblade

2014-01-15, 06:15 PM

Corvo

The woman glides through the water with her unnatural grace until she seems to disappear into a stone wall up ahead. There is a faint shadow of where she once was lingering on the stone but you are running out of air. With the shifting water it'll be impossible to find her once more should you stop for a breath.

***

Blackbeard

"The Temple?" Kenway asks pointing off in the distance towards the large skull shaped structure carved out of a mountain.

Based on the map it's half a day's hike from here but the sun is already bleeding across the horizon. It'll be dark soon and that jungle is no place for a man after dark, not even a dead one.

***

Hook

Haddock smirks. "Then slit my throat and be done with it coward! I'll rot in Tarturus rather than beg sea scum like you."

Smee approaches from the hold. "Um, sir I was going over the loot. Marking it for keeping or sale and well I figured you'd want to see this."

He passes you a piece of parchment, a receipt for the purchase of several bars of silver addressed to Wendy Darling, that girl that Pan once fancied.

***

Avery

The countess eyes you skeptically but says nothing. Blood opens the door a crack. "Then pray tell why you are bothering me instead of kidnap- ahem rescuing this fair maiden?"

***

Popeye

((You are completely correct it is too soon for that to happen naturally...))

The swordsman, Uther Doul you're guessing smiles as you return to the ship. "I assume the Lovers were here?"

***

Barbossa

The black spot appears on your own hand, the singing swells and the world goes black before you can use either weapon on the demoness.

You find yourself strapped to a steel bed under a blinding unnatural light. Much like the moon it shows what you are, a corpse trying to cling to life in the most unnatural manner. Your sword and pistol are gone but you can still feel a knife in your boot.

ThePhantom

2014-01-15, 06:39 PM

Popeye

Popeye walks up to Uther and glares. The folks who think taking Olive to get Popeye to do their bidding are going to in for hurting later, but now he needs information, and this smug swordman be the one who has that information.

"Ye be tellin me where the floating city be, or else ye be short of teeth."

Can't do the opinion of letting him go or teaching them a lesson if don't know where to do it at.

Cracklord

2014-01-15, 08:09 PM

Blackbeard
"Men after my own heart." He said as he sees the temple, with a harsh bark of laughter, then adjusted his brace of pistols and sword, and eased himself out of the boat and onto the ruins of a dock, now naught but a faded shell the jungle was reclaiming. It had not been built by the same hands that built the temple all those countless years ago, that much was certain, it was a primitive affair, built by some tribe who must have come here once. The jungle defeated them.

Blackbeard nodded meaningfully to Larsen. "Guard the boat. Death is no excuse." He growled meaningfully, then rolled is shoulders and arms to ease the stiffness out of them. "We had best find shelter and high ground while it is light." He sighed, grinding his teeth a little at this fresh delay. He would trade his entire fortune, plus every drop of blood in his crew, to get to the temple, but it is apparent that is not reasonably practical.

Long Ben Avery
"Right…" He said slowly as Blood opened the door again against his better judgement, and he sighed. "Look, I doubt it's escaped your notice, but I'm not actually in the best of sorts right now, and it looks like the French are here in force, and… well, I need a good man…" He started to say, then stopped, backtracked, and began again. "That is, I can't do this alone, you understand?"

He hobbled down the street a little, leaning against the walls for support, and indicated the harbor, which had been emptied long since by base treachery and now had only one ship. "There she is, the Santa Umbriago right enough! Don Lardo's great treasure ship - with every coin and scrap he could loot from this city in her hold. Fame, fortune, riches, dollars, all the grub you can eat, and a safe passage home." There she was, sure enough, and what a ship - a magnificent Spanish galleon, the sun gleaming on the gold paint of her beak and sterncastle, and on the brazen muzzles of the tiers of cannon thrusting from her ports, towering sails in white pyramids of canvas, and the red and gold flag of Spain fluttering from her staff. Colonel Blood has no issue whatsoever spotting that this ship is, in no way, shape or form, in the possession of Captain Ben Avery. At least, yet.

"As you can see, she's one of theirs! A proud and vaunting dago, so there is nothing unethical about giving her the business, as one would any symbol o' King Philip's tyranny!" He said, with so much confidence one really could believe he'd simply set foot onboard the ship and sweep all opposition aside with nothing but the force of his personality. "I warrant there's not a man aboard her who is C of E, or drinks honest ale, or can speak English, even! Furthermore, they're insufferably conceited and have far more money than is good for them, so it's good and patriotic, and therefore not really stealing."

A few months ago, before he first met Colonel Blood, Avery would have left it at that, and trusted the mans good nature to shine through. Now, however, he's learned to be a bit more manipulative. "Long odds, I agree. But if you look up, you'll see that alternative. The frogs are here, ready to take this city with cannonade and sword and shot and remorseless pieces of metal. Do you want to stay in Spain at ground zero of a French Invasion? Become a Jacobian, wear a stupid hat and call people 'citizen'? To hell with that, God save the Queen, lets both go home very, very wealthy men?"

As he's talking, Blood gets another good look at the Countess. How to describe those magical dark eyes, the glossy black tresses, the crimson parted lips, creamy skin, sweeping lashes, and girlish perfection of figure encased but in no way diminished by the plain cut of her black clothes, all blending into a mixture of virginal sweetness and gypsy wildcat. And what's worse, she'd met Avery, so she wouldn't even notice the likes of him.

The Tygre

2014-01-16, 12:21 AM

Nemo

Nemo finally snaps. The captain bellows out, a wild expression coming over him, "LIAR! Do you expect me to believe that you did not kill that man?! He is lying in a pool of his own blood, underneath a burst pipe! Decimated! And not by any tools of man; my crew and I know enough to recognize the work of a firebender when we see it; the pipe was melted! And here you stand. Do you expect me to believe that you are not the culprit?!"

Draxx

2014-01-16, 02:06 AM

Captain Hook
In the appalled silence that followed, the sharp retort of a gunshot could be heard clearly, the sharp noise unmistakable. Hook blew away the smoke of the discarge, and tossed the spent pistol aside as one of the crewman fell over, clutching his chest where the bullet had hit him cleanly, right in the heart. Hook hadn't even looked. He hadn't even needed to.

Stretching out a hand, he gestured imperiously, and a trembling buccaneer placed another pistol primed and ready to fire, which he took with a flourish and sighted along the barrel directly at Haddock, making a small sound of satisfaction. "Give me a reason, Sir Francis." He hissed, tiny pinpoints of red visible in his blue eyes. "And I'll send you to see Jack Rackham with regards." A moment ago, he'd been enjoying himself quite a bit, but suddenly the moment was gone, now that this fresh news had reached him.

It isn't like he'd imagined it. Whatever happened to Sir Francis, it left only a poor imitation, one scarcely worth the effort of killing. He snarled in irritation, and indicated his boots with the barrel of the gun, suddenly sick of the game, sick of it all. He'd shoot the man then and there, aye, and god rot him, but his men had fought and sweated for the ship, and he owed them a show in reward for their efforts. "One man down, seventeen to go. Such a simple thing, and you're free. Or I can kill your crew one by one." As he spoke, a pair of grinning men hauled up the corpse and threw it over the side.

The first of the sharks appeared, summoned by the smell of blood in the water. In increasing numbers, dark shapes converged on the slick, sliding beneath the water, some the size of longboats. Occasionally, there would be a splash or a flurry of water as some of the great fish disputed a chunk of meat. Once in while, a great fin, grey like a blade, broke the watertop.
As more arrived to dispute the place the feeding began to turn to a frenzy. The water, stained red, boiled and frothed. Tails and fins appeared more frequently, writhing and thrashing.

Cracklord

2014-01-16, 04:50 AM

Inigo
In the end, every fight is won or lost in the mind. Skill mattered, but craft mattered more.

Inigo took advantage of Rochforte's failing confidence to go back onto the offensive once more. The dance of swords quickened even further, if such a thing was possible, circling in lethal minuet amidst the glittering passage of blows. "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." He said again for the fourth time, the words biting like a lash as he beat his opponent back until his back was to Lardo's desk and there was no room for him to maneuver.

And then the Spaniard saw it. An opening in the web of steel that served Rocheforte as a defense. He hadn't time to consider it, to strategize and offensive or do more then lunge forward, and as expected the parry was a second too slow, and he pierced Rocheforte's breast.

Draxx

2014-01-16, 08:36 AM

Rochforte
Anyone else would have died when the parry was slow, but Rochforte was a master worthy of the word, and in the last second turned, so that instead os skewering his heart, the dull edge of the blade cut a gash through his clothes, opening him up from collar-bone to nipple. For a moment, his expression is almost amusing, as though he is incapable of comprehending the magnitude of his loss, then a fierce cry of pain and outrage escaped his lips. It wasn't the wound, not really. It was the insult, the sheer disrespect of losing such a meaningless battle that really hurt him.

A lesser man would have dropped then and there, but Rochforte's sheer overwhelming anger held trauma at bay, his face twisted in hatred he struck Inigo across the face with his right hand, still clasped around the hilt of the sword. The blow actually lifted him off his feet, and sent him reeling to the ground, and Rochforte loomed over him, sword still raised in his hand, intending to kill him then and there.

But he had asked too much of himself. His legs folded beneath him. Weakly, he tried to push himself back to his feet, but his body simply had no more to give, his legs and fingers numb and barely responding, his head woozy with blood-loss. "Damnit, where are you?" He muttered, weakly turning his head about. Why was there nobody there? Where were his men? Where was his brother? Why?

darkblade

2014-01-16, 06:43 PM

Rochefort and Inigo

The foundation of the mannor shakes as cannon bombardment begins from the airship. Stone crumbles and wood splinters as the steel balls fly. Taking this duel outside would be advisable.

***

Hook

Haddock's eyes fill with fear as he watches you slaughter his men in cold blood. "Stop! I'll do it! I'll submit you rat bastard! Just stop! Please!"

***

Nemo

"Because I am the only fire bender in Republic City! I don't have time for this!" Korra yells right back stepping forward into your face.

"Every second you waste yelling at me the real killer is getting further into your ship!"

***

Blackbeard

Not far from you there is a cave. It'll make suitable lodgings for the night.

Perfectly defensible with a visible end and narrow entrance. All you need is some wood for a fire and you'll be set.

***

Avery

Blood rolls his eyes and mutters about how if he knew you were bluffing he'd have stayed inside. "...Snails probably aren't even that bad..."

Thunder roars in the distance despite the sky being clear, cannon fire. "Alright I'll do it. Hopefully you have a better plan than just smiling at them and hoping they make you Captain."

***

Popeye

"My compass, it always points to Armada. They shouldn't be too far from here though it takes a long time to move a city." Doul explains.

Aric Kale

2014-01-16, 07:44 PM

Barbossa

Barbossa struggles against the shackles for a bit before deciding that he couldn't not force himself out. Unfortunately, his knife is just out of reach, considering his inability to move his legs. I might mention that the fact that he is in skeletal form makes him incredibly irritable.
The captain eventually resigns himself to whatever may befall him. He waits until his captor makes herself known again. In the meantime, he looks from side to side, taking note of everything.

ThePhantom

2014-01-16, 08:54 PM

Popeye

"Then I be takn the compasse."

Popeye has his crew search Usher, while he heads back up to the deck. There's some cans of spinach to put where he can have them on hand, and a plan to try to put togther.

"When we have the heding, set sail to it."

Cracklord

2014-01-17, 01:54 AM

Long Ben Avery
Of course Avery has a plan. What sort of question is that? He smiles and pats Blood on the shoulder, then sways, and his hand winds up staying exactly where it is to steady him, in order to support himself and stay upright. His left foot is just about ready to give out on him, remember. "Yes, well, the opening stages are more or less down to you, I'm afraid. I'm going to go see if I can do something about all these injuries I seem to have picked up. Anyway, you'd better head up to the keep and rescue Inigo." He paused. "By the way, I warn you, the Don is likely to be extra protective. I imagine whatever soldiers are left are regrouping at the fort, and expecting funny business, so there will be even more guards then usual just itching at the finger to strike. So it will be a little more trouble then usual" He began.

"Anyway, when you're done with that, we'll have to head down to one of those watering holes you always frequent, and round up the meanest, toughest bunch you can get to listen to you. After that, it's plain sailing." His eyes narrowed, and suddenly Blood was reminded just how intelligent Avery was when he wasn't busy being so infuriatingly naive. "You see, we have Don Lardo's fiance to assist us in our cunning escape. That'll get us aboard the ship, with the men we gather posing as wedding guests. Remember, the men we trust will need to be really savage, untrustworthy sorts, or else it won't be convincing enough to fool the dago's that they really are Don Lardo's guests, so make sure you select men who'd stab you in the back as soon as look at you. Anyway, we'll say that he wants to have his wedding onboard, and so they'll let us aboard none the wiser. At which point we surprise them, commandeer the ship, and sail home to England with more money then we can spend. Nothing could be simpler." And he really means it.

Inigo
Pain burst in the Spaniard's head. Dimly, he saw the sword he'd used fall beside him, red with blood. For a moment, he thought he was going to lose consciousness, and that would mean his death, but he was barely aware. He was, in fact, elated. He'd won! At long last, he had avenged his father. Death was a trifle compared to vindication. He had mortally wounded the six-fingered man (or so he thought), and that was enough.

And so he paid no mind to the shaking walls or the screams from the lower floors, instead groping for his father's masterpiece. He intended to cut out the Six-fingered man's heart, the way the man had taken his when he had killed Dominyo Montoya, back when Inigo was eleven. He was a lover of justice, and what could be more just then that? It would be glorious, if you liked that sort of thing.

Inigo loved it.

Blackbeard
The wood is wet and green. Blackbeard cut the palms of his hands carefully, then clenched fists so a few drops of blood dripped over the small pile of wood. He made a few passes and muttered a few words, and a spectral blue fire sprung to life from nowhere, and begun to burn the wood, without consuming it. It gave off no heat and a cold, pale light, but it was better then darkness, and Blackbeard sat with his back too it, eyes on the mouth of the cave.

"Sleep." he told Edward Kenaway. "Save your strength, for come morn you shall need it. I need little, myself, and find no rest besides."

Draxx

2014-01-17, 04:30 AM

Rochforte
He's in no shape to hold onto the sword, and Inigo has no trouble recovering it. Slowly, inch by inch, Rochforte forced his body upright, using his legs just for pushing, letting the desk he was slumped against to do what supporting was necessary. A hand sticky with blood fumbles for the knife he keeps in his sleeve. He doesn't have the strength to end it with his sword, or even lift it, but perhaps he can still manage to swing a knife, if he can find the strength to make his fingers close around it. His other hand clutched at the gaping mess that was his chest, and he didn't want to think about what he was touching and holding in place, but the endless flow of blood slowed to a tricke, so he did it, and tried to focus on the spanish brat.

There was nothing else then that. There was neither yesterday, nor anything like tomorrow. There was only now, and now was until the Spaniard killed him, or until he killed the Spaniard, that was his life and everything else was in proportion, a dark passage which led to nowhere but blood, and whose it didn't matter.

Forty years of battle and death, of skill and luck and murder, of service to kings and holy men, and all he was left with was the wind and the sun and an empty belly. He had a knife in his sleeve, but his fingers were clumsy and sluggish with pain, and slick with blood. He had a pistol, but it was on the desk, he'd never reach it now, and couldn't lift it if he did, and wouldn't trust his aim even if he did. And he had taken a sword, but he couldn't lift it, he couldn't even reach it. Wasn't it fine?

He bared his teeth in what might have been a smile as he saw the spaniard reach for the sword, and resolved to kill him quickly, the way he should have from the beginning, as his hand finally closed around the knife, and then the walls shook, the windows exploded in shards of spinning glass, the roof rained plaster and links of crystal as the chandelier shook crazily then gave in and fell, smashing the desk beneath it to pieces and sending them both sprawling, and then the world was lost in a confusion as the walls were pummeled and gave way before the fury of the canon. He closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. He lost his feet again. This time, he wouldn't find them.

It should end in fire. He thought, lips moving soundlessly. The magazine should be afire long since. Blood and Damnation Febre, what are you good for? He should have killed the man years ago.

Captain Hook
"The man sees sense at last!" He sneered loudly, f\getting to his feet spreading his arms wide at the rest of the crew, who chuckled and guffawed right on schedule. Having displayed the mood of the mob, he turned back to Haddock, and made a 'get-on-with-it' gesture. "Well, it would be poor form indeed not to give you the chance. After-all, who says James Hook cannot be merciful? But I warn you, if you miss so much as a single spot, it will go badly for you, and all those with you."

Over the side, the great, sleek sharks, half-seen and menacing, continued to thrash and churn the surface. As Hook spoke, a great maw rose for a moment through the bloody foam, huge teeth ranged around a vast pink cavity. Then it was gone again. Three or four fins circled below the plank like the sails of toy dinghies, and Captain Hook smiled in a manner unsettlingly like the sharks circling in the water.

Shnyder

2014-01-18, 12:04 AM

Corvo had lost much of his weight and muscle in his long imprisonment, and had by no means recovered his original strength. It was not long before he could no longer fight against the ocean current, and the cramps began to settle in his limbs.

He began to drown.

Water filled his mouth, and he fought to keep it from entering his lungs as he twisted and thrashed to keep his head above the surface. His movements were clumsy and helpless, the chain that bound his hands pulled at him like an anchor, and what little strength he had left was fading.

Destiny seemed intent on keeping him from Emily's side. Destiny was betting against the house.

Corvo could no more stop trying and give up then he could eat a stone or forget Emily's face. But the sea was mightier then he, and he could only hold it at bay for so long. And so he swam after the woman as best he could, simply because the alternative was to drown, and that was no alternative at all.

darkblade

2014-01-18, 01:46 PM

Corvo

As you close in to the wall a pair of overgrown eels swim up beside you. They direct you to a small discoloured part of the wall and push you through.

You find yourself in a dark under water cave but for some reason you can breathe here as though the water was air itself. A large bulbous woman with the lower body of a octopus swims around the room. "It's so rare to get company around here, especially a human. Tell me what brings you to the home of Ursula the sea witch?"

***

Hook

Haddock scowls but complies. He kisses the pirate's boot and licks the sea salt with until his tongue dries out. Despite this there is not submission behind his eyes, instead there is a slow burning rage, waiting and biding it's time until it has a chance.

***

Blackbeard

Kenway nods throwing his hood over his face and curling his knees up into a ball. Off in the distance you can hear the calls of those small feathered beasts, a good dozen of them and they were getting closer.

***

Popeye

The compass is easy to find, sitting in his outer pocket. It gives you a heading of NorthNorthWest. Your crew reluctantly prepares the ship. Their heart isn't in it though, they aren't soldiers and you are sailing them straight into an unimaginably large den of pirates.

***

Barbossa

Your other marked crew members are present strapped to similar tables. Strangely enough some of them seem to have regrown some flesh. Ragetti in particular has his whole body back, even his missing eye.

***

Luffy

Annoyed that you seem incapable of understanding her the bug headed woman wanders off throwing her head legs around wildly. You have a distinct impression that the final gesture she gives you, both middle legs standing straight up in the air while her front and pack pairs remain flaccid, is particularly rude.

"Darn Kepherki. Think they can just go around expecting people to understand their sign language. The barkeep mutters. Anyways look kid. There is an Inn on the other side of town. Spyglass Inn, go there and ask for Long John Silver, if he doesn't kill you on the spot then he's the best source of pirate lore short of Davy Jones himself. He'll know how to deal with that gold."

ThePhantom

2014-01-18, 02:15 PM

Popeye

Popeye sees the state of his crew and sighs.

"Lads, I won't ask ye to stick round when we get there. Ye can sail off, I'll find me onl way off."

It is a city that has a lot of boats, and Popeye won't need a large one when his business is finished. That and he's likely to be a big enough distraction to let his crew sail away safely.
Popeye stands on the deck of the ship, watching the sea go by, thinking how he's going to do this.

"I yam what I yam. I'm Popeye the sailorman."

Cracklord

2014-01-18, 10:07 PM

Avery
Colonel Blood reluctantly conceded that the plan was as likely to work as any, and having no particular desire to become a citizen of France (he might be a magnificent scoundrel, but by god he was an Englishman) he belted on his main gauche and sabre, threw a longcoat over the affair, and headed towards the fort, trying his best to look confident and in control, but not doing a particularly passable job.

Then he makes a sharp turn, and heads over to the Lighthouse that is next to the fort. Given it's not guarded at all, he figures he can climb that instead, get a good look, and if Inigo doesn't seem to be in too much trouble, perhaps there's a thing or two he can do. And if not, well, he'll pass on the attempt, and speak well of the man, and reassure Avery that he did his best but there was nothing he could do.

Avery slowly makes his painful way up the stairs. The Countess takes one look at the accommodations Blood has been slumming in, and states that she'd prefer to remain outside on the street, even if it is in the middle of an invasion and the spanish guards are looking to drag her back to the fort (at last, as far as she knows). So Avery remains on the bed alone, taking off his boots and shirt, and sewing himself up with a needle and catgut. It stings atrociously, but using Blood's liquor cabinet is able to sterilize himself, and clean the wounds. Then he rebinds them, wrapping and tying off the bandages tight and firm, and stretches. His body protests quite a bit, but the pain is bearable. So he steps back down to the street to look after the countess.

Blackbeard
He listens to the noises of the jungle, the chirp of the insects, and the cries and rumbles of it's denizens, waiting until he feels the deep rhythm of Kenaway's Breathing. When he was confident the assassin was asleep he closed his eyes and the fire dimmed, then got to his feet, and padded over to his companion. Blackbeard had an unsettlingly light tread and quiet steps for such a large man, and he made no sound, barely seeming to disturb the air as he moved. Taking a knife from his belt, he gently wove a lock of Edward's blond hair with his thick, blunt fingers, then carefully cut it free, weaving it around his fingers. He stepped away, and sniffed it, then smiled, and crossed back over the cave, sitting back in his previous position.

Taking the hairs, he deftly threaded them to a bone needle, and, using them as thread, took a scrap of white linen cloth, and stitched it until he had an effigy that could generously be said to resemble the assassin. Tracing it with his rough fingers once more, he tucked it into his coat, and allowed himself a smile. Edward had been his friend once, but they were both changed men, and he wasn't blind to the fact that he was doing most of the speaking, or how Edward avoided getting drawn into a conversation about their past. He didn't trust him, at least, without some added insurance. But now…

Now he held the man in the palm of his hand.

Corvond

2014-01-19, 12:10 AM

Sharpe
One by one, the soldiers looked at him. When all of them were paying attention, he cleared his throat and put down his drink. "You're probably wondering why the army is paying for your lodgings here in London, instead of keeping you with the rest of the battalion at the barracks at South Essex. Well, command has finally got around to explaining to me about why such crack fighting men are going to seed here while everyone's heard how difficult it is to keep recruiting, and over at Spain every mile is bought in blood."

He gave everyone a moment to speak, but when nobody did he tapped his nose and winked. There wasn't another colonel in the British army who confided in his troops like this, most of them leaving espirit de corps to the noncommisioned officers, and that was a large part in Sharpe's success. "Fact of the matter is, we're shipping out tomorrow, around dawn." He said simply. "Seems the empire is falling apart and into lawlessness with the strain of fighting a war, and we're to be the men who hold it together. Those of you with wives or sweethearts have leave tonight, make use of the time. Rest of you, drinks are on me. However, you all better to be able to pass muster come morning, or else I'll take exception and you can take it up personally with me."

He bows out to the cheers of the free drinks he offered, then walks over to Harper. "You had best go to Isabella." He said, referring to his wife. He'd brought her over to England with him, but she was still very much unused to the country, a stranger in a strange land, and Harper didn't really understand that about her. To him, being happy was having anything to eat. "And can you make sure this gets to…"

Harper took the letter without a word, and nodded. They briefly clasped hands, one lifelong friend to another, then Harper left, to deliver a letter that would hopefully, by incraments, arrive in the hands of Lucille Castineau in Normandy, and to comfort his wife. Sharpe took one more look around the tavern, then sighed and went to bed. He had a big day, come morrow.

Hornblower
There had been precious little to celebrate since the beginning of the war, when the great powers of Europe had achieved a rare unity in a bid to crush the forces unleashed by the French Revolution. But Paris had stood, the revolution had endured. And as the years ground on, the tide of war was swinging against the monarchists. New French Armies - raised by Levée en masse - had stormed across Germany and Northern Italy. The pope had been forced to give them legitimacy (and had apparently suffered the indignity of arrest and imprisonment) to keep them out of Rome. The ancient republic of Venice, mistress of the seas, had been torn apart, the British fleet scattered and driven from the Mediterranean. Holland and Portugal had even gone so far as to change sides, if only for the hope of claiming a share of the spoils, and even the Hapsburg Emperor in Vienna, brother of the murdered Marie Antionette, was now thought to be seeking a humiliating compromise with the regicides in Paris.

Britain was alone in this fight, Spain was a reluctant ally at best, and it was whispered that Philip had either lost heart or lost his people's support, and was considering capitulation. However, the war was not his concern, for the moment at least. The admiralty's concerns were in holding the Empire together, a difficult prospect. As long as all the main powers all focused on each other, the real victors were the enemies of humanity. Pirates, robber barons and the like who could act with impunity while the nations tore at each other.

And so Hornblower understood the value in what he did as he stepped up onto the quater-deck, the men all gathered up to look at him. He was wearing the uniform of a post-captain. It was an ill-fitting uniform, for it had been borrowed for this occasion from one of heavier build., and this, along with certain other of his features, gave him an air of slightly awkward individuality. He was a month shy of his twenty-ninth birthday - younger then a few of his lieutenants, his hair was dark and his features seemed particularly pale amongst those honest, red, perspiring English faces. "I am impressed by the dedication you have shown on the vessels maintenance." He said shortly. "However, it needs to be readied. I intend to leave with the tide." He opened his mouth as though about to say something else, thought better of it, and waved a hand to tell them to get on with it.

Shnyder

2014-01-19, 07:35 AM

Corvo
When he had been Lord Protector, he had counted upon the services of some of the most gifted politicians, spymasters and knowledge-brokers to keep order in France. And while ultimately they weren't to be counted on, he had been well appraised and acquainted with almost everything that went on in Paris, and indeed all of France.

Standing here, on the threshold of a world in which he was as lost and helpless as a newborn, he blinked, in surprise and confusion, then inclined his head in a courtly bow, folding at the waist, his eyes never leaving hers. He was honestly grateful for the rescue, strange though the circumstances were. After all, a dead man was no use to anybody.

The situation was unfamiliar, but the players were not so much, perhaps. This Sea Witch reminded him of something from long ago. A story he had heard many times when he still held office, he had always regarded with skepticism but, perhaps, a little concern. The stories of the mad woman 'Granny Rags', who wandered the streets, feeding plague rats and speaking to herself. While she appeared to be just another madwoman wandering the streets, vulnerable, destitute, and senile, there were darker rumors that surrounded her, rumors that, while outwardly ridiculous, could never be comfortably dismissed, at least entirely. Corvo was a man of the world. He knew that for all the effort to bring enlightenment and civilization to every corner of the world, there were still many remnant powers that had hidden deep, where they could outlast their enemies.

Once he would have killed her on principle. But Corvo was not the man he had once been, and the reasons that had once mattered no longer held weight. The face was framed by the same ink black hair, but it was no longer youthful. Fear and agony had left their marks, and the face was lined and hard and the set of the mouth grim. There was a small scar on his left cheek, and another on his neck. Characteristically it was the same, everything was in the right place, but even those who had known him well would find the task of recognizing his features difficult.

Ursula was not so different to people he had known all his life. She wanted something, and had decided he was valuable in pursuing it. Which was fine, as long as she did not impede him there was no price he would not pay, for Emily's sake. Whatever she asked of him, she would receive, if it led to Emily. And so he stepped forward, and removed the one thing he had kept in his long imprisonment. He had no chain for it, and the pin had been taken out of the hinge that held the cap in place, but it was unmistakably a locket. And inside it was a picture of a young girl, no older then six. Lady Emily would be beautiful one day, but she was six when the picture was made, and as of yet would be better referred to as adorable.

Corvo did not expand on how much she meant to him, because there wee no words he had learned that did it justice. He made no solemn offers or promises, because there were no limits to what he would do, he would move heaven and earth itself if that was what it took. No, Corvo possessed a knack for saying nothing when there was nothing to be said, so much so that many who had known him for years mistook him for a mute. "Lady Emily." He said, indicating the picture, his voice hoarse and rough with disuse. "Please." He added, then said not another word.

Draxx

2014-01-19, 07:55 AM

Captain Hook
He sat back as his crew mockingly jeered and laughed at Haddock's abject humiliation, Hook's eyes flashing with a vicious pleasure of the sort found in a schoolyard bully. After he felt it had gone on long enough, he turned one boot, then suddenly lashed out with his other foot, catching captain Haddock in the ear and sending him sprawling. His sneer widened, then he got to his feet, spread his arms in a gesture at once inviting and strangely repellent, and cleared his throat. "Well then, that's enough of that. I gave my word, and I'll keep it too, you're free to go. But first, I'll put an offer to you all." He said, with a nasty grin, his eyes straying to the plank as he said the word 'free'.

"Your ship is afoul of the reef, all the King's navy couldn't save it. I'll put you ashore, because James Hook is a man of his word, never let it be said otherwise." He said he possessed mercy as well, but contradicting him on either point would be very unwise. Hie voice lowered, to something akin to a conspiratorial whisper, and he leaned forwards. "But what's to become of you? I say, join my crew. Riches beyond counting, a good ship and a life to be envied, without restrictions or kings or even growing old, a life that has a morrow, a life that doesn't have to come to an end, no full stop, only at the very most a comma here and there, a little breathing space, and for the rest naught but action and excitement beyond your wildest dreams!" He turned, seeming to look each of them in the eye, one at a time. "What better life then the life of a pirate, I ask you all? Why settle for anything less? Sign on with me. I'll give each of you that does a free tattoo, and the first pick of the plunder from the last vessel we plundered." Hook was never shy of bribing men with their own coin.

darkblade

2014-01-20, 06:30 PM

Hook

A few men move to join you but most remain steadfast in their loyalty. Haddock prized loyalty among his crew ever since an old first mate betrayed him. Those that serve him nowadays would do so to their dying breathes.

***

Corvo

The sea witch floats around the cave eyeing you up. "Ah yes. The little Princess. Fret not little man for she yet lives."

She curls a tentacle up into a ball and knocks on a giant clam, shattering the shell to reveal a large pearl held within. "Take a look for yourself."

Looking into the pearl you can see her alive, dirty and scared but alive. She appears to be in an old rotten wooden room surrounded by heavily armed foreigners. "Of course, how long she remains that way is largely up to you."

***

Hornblower and Sharpe

Aside from the usual mess sailors on leave tend to make it was a relatively uneventful night. The boat was loaded and you were free to set sail upon the crack of dawn.

The strange compass gave you a bearing, North West, towards the New World.

***

Avery

Aside from the Countess the streets are bare. Everyone else has the good sense to either take to their boats and see how far the sea will take them or took to fortifying their shambled houses and businesses.

At least it means no one will be able to get in your way.

***

Blackbeard

Kenway shifts as you reach for his hair. His arm extending along with the blade hidden in his wrist. He sits there eyes unopened for a good ten seconds before going back down to sleep, a useful reflex against the foolish and scared. Not so useful against undead pirate kings.

One of those feathered beasts braves it's way to the cave mouth. Up close you can see it barely stands at shin height but it has a pair of razor sharp curved claws growing on it's toes. One of those could slice through a man's throat at least as good as a knife if it got the chance. It just stands there growling at you not yet making a move.

***

Popeye

You men accept your reassurances and grimly focus on their tasks. The irony that a captainless crew like this would probably turn to piracy themselves before too long is impossible to miss. You'll just have to come 'round to show them what is what sooner than later when you're done with the Lovers.

As you sail the sky grows dark and the sea savage. You're sailing straight into a storm.

AnimeKid

2014-01-20, 06:44 PM

Luffy

Zoro shrugs not really caring about how Luffy decides to proceed from here. After all, Zoro's luck was stronger than any curse. Something that he had proven when he got one of his new swords. Then again Nami was always talking about it running out one day....Nah. Luffy, ignorant of his First Mate's thoughts bounced excitedly as he said, "Oh man really?! This is going to be awesome. Maybe he knows about One Piece as well! Come on Zoro we gotta go find him."

Zoro sighed as Luffy's usual exuberance racheted up a notch. "Yeah, yeah keep your vest on. He said if he doesn't try to kill us first. We need to at least pick up Nami, Chopper, and Robin before we go there. Luckily the smart guys all hang out together. You go on ahead and I'll catch up with them in tow. After all I won't get lost since Robin will be leading the way." With that Luffy headed off to the Spyglass Inn while Zoro went to find the 'smart guys' of the crew. Considering Luffy likely didn't know where he was going, having not asked for directions, Zoro knew they would get there at about the same time.

Draxx

2014-01-20, 07:29 PM

Captain Hook
"Welcome to the crew, me hearties!" He called out, to the two men who trusted his word, and the man heartily slapped them on the back, cheered, and otherwise treated them like long lost brothers. The Hook turned his attention back to the remaining honest sailors, and shook his head sadly. "Well, a deal is a deal." He sad sadly, shaking his head, then made a gesture to the seas. Amongst the shoals of the reef it could be seen, an extremely small island, little more than a sandbank in the limpid tropic ocean, the sand broken only by crooked, weather-beaten crosses with which the long sandspit was sprinkled, each marking the grave of some unfortunate who had perished there. All was peaceful save for the lapping of the creamy surf, the cry of the seabirds overhead, and the creak of the timbers in the wind.

While the Jolly Roger rode the gentle swell offshore, the longboat was lowered into the swell, and the merchantmen were forced into it, one by one. Finally, a barrel was dropped in with them. "A pistol is traditional, but I think the drink suits rum-soaked sorts like you better." Hook sneered. "So drink well, that was King Charlie's best brandy. There's nothing to eat save each other, and water, water everywhere but nary a drop to drink. Or save it, and pray the sea sends you a captain kindly disposed to risk his ship on the reef for marooned gentlemen the likes of yourself." With that he cut the ropes with a single, smooth strike of his sword and the longboat fell into the sea, splashing and rocking, and the sharks moved towards it.

"And be warned!" He added, "There are worse things then sharks, aye, and them winsome angels will strip a man's flesh. To the bone." He with a cruel laugh he turned to his crew. "Well lads, we have a heading. We're going home to England, for a while at least. Port to Starboard, brace the foreyard and full speed ahead! We have an appointment to keep."

Of all those who sailed the seas, Hook alone had sailed all across the Grand Line, for he alone knew the oceans secrets, and needed no charts or compasses to steer.

He knew the sea to be an everlasting terra incognita, that men sail across numberless unknown worlds to discover superficial ones; that the sea led anywhere if one would allow it to. But men feared what they couldn't understand, and so bound and constrained it in charts and bars of latitude and longitude that fell across it's surface like the bars of a cage. But the sea was not tame, and would rise up to swallow all those who failed to grasp that at the edge of every map, here be dragons.

"England or Hell, whichever we find first."

Long John Silver
The sign of the Spy-glass was at the end of the docks, a little tavern with a large brass telescope for sign. It was an oddity in Tortuga, among the cracked and rotting planks and despite the filth and miasma of sin, it was a pleasant building. The sign was newly painted; the windows had neat red curtains; the floor was cleanly sanded. There was a street on each side and an open door on both, which made the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in spite of clouds of tobacco smoke.

Within, it was high revelry indeed. Here all Silver's old cronies and comrades taken from the toughest and wildest crews of the most feared pirates, gathered to riot nightly in the traditional fashion which you've seen scores of times: raffish ruffians staggering about with pint-pots, their hairy arms round bedizened women in big earrings and ragged off-the-shoulder finery; a wild gypsy with a tambourine dancing a fiery fandango on the table, while roaring bullies pound brawny fists in applause and discriminating diners hurriedly withdraw their plates from beneath her stamping heels; drink and doubloons are scattered broadcast, drunks litter the floor, bursts of song echo 'gainst blackened rafters, and men from every place imaginable bedecked like barbarian chiefs lean against one another and speak quietly of things they have seen, and treasures they have uncovered.

As you step in a man came out of a side room, and at a glance you are sure it must be Long John, for surely it could be nobody else. His left leg was cut off close by the hip, and under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird. He was very tall and strong, with a face as big as a ham, intelligent and smiling. Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits, whistling as he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or a slap on the shoulder for the more favored of his guests.

He glances over at you once, then takes a second look, and a slow smile splits his face. Hopping over, he towers above you, then claps a big hand on your shoulder. "Don't believe we've had the pleasure. Silver is my name."

ThePhantom

2014-01-20, 11:32 PM

Popeye

If they chose to go pirate, they'll be giving up the payment for this last voyage. That and most of their houses are back on the island they just left from, so its likely they go to get their things before going out as pirates.

"Aright men, will be in storm. Yet we can't back down, we mush sail on!"

Popeye goes to help his crew, they will need it with this storm.

Draxx

2014-01-20, 11:49 PM

Cardinal's Guards
Only the central fort, which the late Don Lardo had appropriated as his residence (more for it's extensive torture chambers then comfort, I'm sorry to say), was a modern, stone-walled fort. The other five that lined the harbor, where the swells shattered white on dark rocks, were little more then glorified gun emplacements protected by ditches and timber walls, yet their cannon made the harbor into a killing ground with overlapping gunnery zones.

The fort was nothing unusual, with low walls over which muzzles of the defenders guns showed grimly, and a wide, dry moat designed to be a killing ground and prevent attackers using the city as cover. The only incongruity to it's formidable defenses was an ancient looking tower that stood like a medieval castle turret in the very center of the fortifications.

France's new secret weapon was more then a match for the forts. Le Cheval Pâle, as Cardinal Richleau had christened it, had devastated the five that overlooked the harbor, first with Greek Fire and barrels of gunpowder, then with cannonade which combined to pond the defenses into rubble, while the much reduced Spanish soldiers, those Don Lardo had left as the very token of guards, desperately tried to elevate their cannons sufficiently to return fire.

They did not, however, target the main fort, beyond a few cannon shots that shattered windows and knocked down walls, trusting Rochforte to fire the magazine and save them the time and effort.

Rochforte
Febre had lit a long fuse in the magazine, giving them perhaps five minutes to get out of the fort before the explosion. There wasn't enough gunpowder stored to crumble the entire building, but it would most likely trigger the building's collapse anyway. However, he had been kept from returning by a spare bunch of guards - the ones who are forever emerging at the double from archways and passages when you least expect them, and with thrust and parry and flying furniture, Febre dealt with them one at a time, his sword swift and accurate.

By the time he made it back to the top of the staircase, the airship was firing on the building, and the duel had come to it's partial conclusion, although clearly it would be continued at a later date. For a moment, Febre considered leaving his brother to die. It was a reflexive thought to him, in that it didn't really benefit him, and yet he gave it far more weight then any rational man would. He was in many ways a throwback, in him the urge to assert himself was matched only by the urge to cringe and grovel when the real alpha male makes an appearance, however he was without loyalty or serious understanding of the consequences of his actions. He'd have been right at home dragging his woman around by the hair, living in a cave and throwing stones at his enemies.

However, he was still afraid of his brother, even wounded as he was, and so he stepped over, and picked him up easily, then dragged him out of the room.

Cracklord

2014-01-21, 12:08 AM

Blood and Inigo
Inigo had picked up his sword, and would have used it too, but unfortunately coincidence saved the six-fingered man. The enormous window that overlooked the harbor shattered under a stray cannon shot, which smashed into the chandelier, sending shards of broken crystal whizzing lethally around the room. Inigo covered his face with his forearms, and darted back as the heavy piece crashed atop Lardo's desk, seemingly make the entire building rock, though actually the effect was largely limited to the room.

As he found his feet, he noted the dark man with the forked beard helping the six-fingered man to his feet and out of the room. Suddenly heedless of anything at all, Inigo went berserk at the thought Rochforte might escape him, and charged forward mindlessly, sword in his hand.

For his part, Colonel Blood, having noted that despite the cannon fire, there wasn't all that much danger actually, picked this dramatically appropriate moment to swing through the (already broken) window, and landed perfectly in the room, calmly lighting a cigaretto before drawing and flourishing his two blades with marvelous competence, and sporting a grin like he knows something naughty about Rochefort's mother. Unfortunately, this entrance was entirely wasted, because everyone had left the room. Scowling, he strode off after Inigo, but not too quickly. He was not, afterall, particularly keen to catch up and become involved in all this. It was hardly his fight.

Ben Avery
His injuries were both far better, and far worse then he had feared. He probed his blood-soaked hair to find that the damage was slight, the bullet had seared across his scalp, breaking the skin, but not doing any other damage. It was a graze, his skull was fine. His shoulder, however, was in bad shape, and he was forced to dig the bullet out of the gory hole. It had fractured his collarbone, and damaged his shoulder, and by the time he was done, he found he could barely lift his left arm. He hoped it would heal clean, but he suspected he would have a stiffness in it for the rest of his life. And his foot…

Patched up, he made his way back to the street, walking with a limp, but still looking far better then he had not ten minutes ago. He was pale, but a stiff drink had improved his color immensely, and despite his shoulder his posture was once more noble and erect.

"Now, we'll need a crew if we're to have a hope of taking that vessal." He declared as he stepped back onto the street. While dressing his wounds, he changed into a fresh suit, fixed his hair, apparently cleaned his teeth, and otherwise somehow gained the benefit of a full night's sleep. "Fortunately, that will present no great obstacle. You see, Don Lardo intended to hang us as pirates to serve as an example, however across town there is a prison, full of infamous sorts he intended to hang." That seemed a leap of reasoning.

"With an invasion in progress, I doubt much effort is being spared to guard the prisoners. It should present no difficulty at all to convince them to join our cause." Avery did not work with pirates, or any other dishonest types if he could at all avoid it, however, with all the gold in the ship, getting whoever signed on cleared of all charges, or even a royal pardon, would present no great difficulty, and so working with them was really just giving them the opportunity to serve England, which he could accept.

Blackbeard
Blackbeard's eyes flashed as it passed through the mouth of the cave, and his lips drew back to bare his teeth. His fingers were still at work, and so he made no effort to dissuade it as it moved closer, and Blackbeard puts the final touches in place. Then he got to his feet, reached a hand around the stock of one of his brace of pistols, took aim and pulled the trigger. The noise and the belch of smoke is shockingly loud in the tiny space.

"There will be more." Blackbeard says, to Kenaway, showing no outward sign to what ends he had been working towards while the assassin slept. "They sense the warmth of our blood, and it drives them to frenzy. We had best move now, before more came." As he spoke, he reloaded his pistol with his pouch of gunpowder, then lit his pipe.

Draxx

2014-01-21, 02:35 AM

Rochefort
Febre was aware he was being followed, and seeing the shape his brother was in had no intention of using his sword. So instead, he took Rochefort's dagger. Pointed at one end, it grew into a triangular shape by the hilt, for quicker bleeding it was said. Febre was a master swordsman, and liked using his sword to kill, but he could see the shape the Spaniard had left his brother, and had no wish to end up like him. But he has a knife as well as a sword, and he was an expert with the thing.

He turned smoothly, then threw the blade at Inigo as he rounded the corner.

The Tygre

2014-01-22, 04:48 PM

Nemo

The captain doesn't flinch as he counters, "And how am I to trust you? How do I know that you are not lying? You have nothing to prove that this murderer is real! And even if he is, he will not escape my ship; worse creatures have tried and failed..."

AnimeKid

2014-01-24, 09:53 PM

darkblade

2014-01-25, 01:36 PM

Blackbeard

From the shadows countless more of those little beasts roar. Kenway gets up and stand ready. "If we move we'll be in their jungles, instead of a defensible cave."

Another one approaches the mouth of the cave and he slits it's throat with his blade before it can make much of a move. "We should stay here."

***

Nemo

"I don't have time for this!" Korra declares as she envokes her qi and whips the air towards Nemo and his men, attempting to knock them into the walls and allow her a path to escape.

***

Avery

When you arrive at the prison you find it empty of guards and already half empty of prisoners. A prisoner sees you, reconizes that you obviously don't work for Lardo. "Get us out of here! They are rounding us up and sending us to Australia!"

You've heard rumours about the punishment factories in Australia and it is indeed heinous but why would a Spaniard be sending his criminals to a British penal colony?

***

Rochefort, Inigo and Blood

As Inigo chases after the man who killed his father the foundation of the hallway starts to give leaving an obscenely large gap between the two men. Even at the height of his athleticism Inigo couldn't cross that gap, perhaps now would be a good time to put the revenge on hold to make sure he lives long enough to obtain it.

Down below Blood can see the two men in vain trying to kill one another before the cannon fire does it for them.

***

Popeye

The waves grow fierce and violent and start to splash up on your deck. Off in the distance you can hear the thunder of the storm.

The men hesitate but keep at their jobs to keep the ship on course.

***

Hook

As you make your way towards London Smee approaches you. "Wendy is a very common name and it's been years here it might not be her."

Shnyder

2014-01-25, 06:30 PM

Corvo
He cupped the pearl in his hands, holding it with careful delicacy, and stared into it's depths, eyes widening as he saw her face. She had changed in six years, as undoubtably had he, but he recognized her. She was taller, a trifle paler, and her mouth, which had once always smiled, was now turned down at the edges, and her eyes were haunted and deepset. She was skinnier then she should be, and her fine dark hair was lank and limp.

He was stoic, but he was not made of stone. There were tears. Whether of relief or of sadness, well, none but him could say. He turned his attention to the soldiers, and focussed first on their uniforms, then their weapons and faces, trying to put together a complete picture of what he was looking at. Then he dropped the pearl, eyes narrowing deep in thought.

This was too much for one man. There was much he could do alone, but in this, he would need support. He would need loyalists, the best, those with influence that he could use. There was a war, even he knew that much, and France had enemies. No doubt they would far prefer the restoration of the monarchy to these battles, perhaps he could use them to his advantage. They had been betrayed, that he knew, he would need to learn the identity of his enemies. That too would be difficult, and even if he learned who they were, he would need to remove them from power, or else Emily would never be safe. He would need patriots and military men, men of faith and men of science, he would need schemers and those who were beneath suspicion. He would have to find them, and weave them together. Slowly, he rolled his shoulders, that of a man stretching out the kinks of his body as he prepares to undertake a great work.

Then he thought of something else. The man in the red coat. Corvo struck from the shadows, but that man? He was the shadows. He had wielded powers Corvo could only say were unnatural. Men he could deal with. He considered himself to be a match for any ten. But against something like that man, he would not be enough. Then he looked up at the Sea Witch. She had power, of a sort. He stood here, breathing water as easily as air, refreshed and reinvigorated as though he had not just been plucked moments from drowning, and stared at Emily from thousands of miles away. He would need to learn magic like hers, if he was to save Emily.

"What can you offer?" He asked, laconic as always, his eyes gleaming. He had been restored to purpose, his active mind was already steps ahead, dozens of them, on his quest to rescue Emily.

Cracklord

2014-01-25, 07:27 PM

Blackbeard
"Aye! And do ye think, mayhaps, that they'll slink away with the sun? That their howling won't bring bigger predators upon us?" He asked rhetorically, firing another shot. This time he did not bother with the hassle of reloading, simply exchanging it for another. "This be no refuge, it's a trap, and though it is easy enough to defend, if we remain within it there shall be no escape at all!" That said, he charged, firing another shot and hacking with his broken sword as he forced his way back into the jungle, doing his very best to kill everything in his path. It was madness more then boldness, an anger at the delay in his search for the ruined temple, one that could not bare to be kept from his prize, perhaps self-destructive, perhaps something far worse. He could not have told you himself.

Blood
Inigo would have jumped it anyway if Blood hadn't restrained him. For a moment, Inigo almost attacked the Irishman, so caught up in his vengeful obsession that he couldn't recognize friend from foe, then it got through to him and he lowered his recovered sword. "He's getting away from me!" He yelled impotently at Rochforte and Febre's retreating back, betting aside the thrown dagger with a thoughtless twitch of his hand. "He's escaping!"

"He has escaped." Blood said, the words brutal in their assessment of the situation. "Too late to do anything about it now." If he were talking to anyone other then the Spaniard, he'd make some further advice, about how this was one colossal waste of effort, and he should just let it go, but Blood knew a lost cause when he saw one, although he did have a blind-spot where Avery was concerned. Instead, he tried to offer some hollow comfort as consolation. "Cheer up." He said, with the brightness of one who found he didn't have to fight for his life afterall. "Looks like you gave him a thing or two to remember you by, and next time…"

And then the nervous energy and adrenaline that had been keeping Inigo upright receded, and the Spaniard all but collapsed. "I'm not carrying you!" Blood said, helping him to his feet. "Come on. We'd better get out of here before the airship opens fire."

Avery
"No more then some of you doubtless deserve." He replies, shaking his head. As has been mentioned before, for all his many fine, even admirable qualities, Avery had a few serious blind-spots. "Now, I need volunteers for a dangerous mission on behalf of the King of England. I want only volunteers, though naturally I reserve the right to refuse if you strike me as a particularly despicable sort of person, and furthermore need experienced sailors for preference, although of course carpenters, cooks and the like are more then welcome, skilled help is always in short supply, you realize. Now, I have to warn you all that while I will endeavor to get you all Royal Pardons, I cannot promise when, or even if you will receive them. However, Spain is in the process of betraying it's allies, both the English, and the French, and it's our duty, by way of basic human decency, to attempt to bring it to an end. In the wake of that, how does what is happening to us matter in the slightest?"

Blood would have had them all signing on in a heartbeat, with a few mentions of treasure, and the fact that England itself was not under any threat of invasion, even if it was at war. Avery's speech was a bit cerebral for that crowd, talks of patriotism and national interests probably went right over their collective heads, and he was not doing a very good job of presenting the issues regardless. Still, the poor men's only real alternative was Australia…

Corvond

2014-01-25, 11:58 PM

Sharpe and Hornblower
Albatrosses ghosted alongside the ship's rigging. The ship was making good time, sailing before a friendly wind on a swirling current of icy water, under a watery sun. Dolphins followed the frigate, while whales surfaced and rolled on ether flank.

It was supposed to be summer in these southern latitudes, but everybody on board was used to hardship. Only a few of the Chosen men got seasick, the bulk of them having quickly come to the conclusion that having something to do prevented you from feeling seasick, and that even a job like scrubbing a deck could be satisfying, if it was done in a seamanlike way.

And if the cabins were scarcely big enough for a dog, well, things could be worse. They were all used enough to soldier's rations not to complain about the food, which was mostly without offense anyway. Sharpe drilled his men hard, getting them used to firing live rounds on deck, and practicing close-quarters as well. Hornblower, for his part, remained in his cabin, attempting to triangulate the position of their heading using his charts.

ThePhantom

2014-01-26, 12:58 AM

Popeye

And so with the storm's effects starting to reach his ship, Popeye goes into action with his crew. After all, for nearly all of his voyages, Popeye was only a member of the crew. A sailor for hire, that was the role that Popeye has played for a good portion of his life.

"A sailor man I be, and that I be to me dyng day. So trim the sails and let the ship sail well.'

Therefore, Popeye climbs the rigging to help with the sails. Better to stay in practice. After all, it won't be long before he might need to sail a ship with little help.

Draxx

2014-01-26, 06:15 AM

Hook
Captain Hook was seated in his cabin at the dinner table. All about him lay the ill-gotten gains of his many conquests-gold, silver, and jewels in all shapes and sizes; furniture stolen from kings and queens of first-rate nations; tapestries and paintings from the private collections of greedy men from seven (or was it eight?) continents; hand-crafted weapons used by gentlemen to murder one another; bolts of silks and English wool from garment districts and boutiques; brass instruments of navigation, some of them rumored to have belonged to Columbus; and leather-bound books by the world's foremost authors.

He stared in the general direction of Smee, bespectacled and stripe-shirted, but he didn't seem to see him. The Captain was somewhere else, somewhere far away, in the dream portion of his brain that he reserved entirely on the subject of revenge. His eyes were glazed, his breathing quick and excited, and occasionally he would make tiny movements with his Hook. Then he snapped out of it, and indicated the table with his good hand.

He paid little attention to the lavish, steaming dinner Smee had prepared carefully and just set before him. It was all his favorites, given he usually liked to celebrate after taking a ship. Roast warthog, Indian-skin corn, tender new potatoes with sour cream, and a sprinkle of sage and chives, and a glass of that Russian laughing water that makes you gasp. Subconsciously, he had heard Smee, and had found his good mood soured with the beginnings of melancholy which, if not nipped in the bud quickly, would go all the way to depression until he killed somebody.

Finally Hook bent to sniff at the food, took fork in hand, cut the slightest sliver of meat, prepared to take a bite, and then stopped. He placed the fork back on the plate, and looked up at the ceiling. "Wendy Darling. Not such an uncommon name." Hook said, as though it had only just occurred to him. Hook was still staring at the table, food quite forgotten.

"Yesterday I was in paradise. I had no cares. No concerns, nothing but the empty ocean, the promise of plunder! I couldn't sleep, so great was my anticipation. I wished to sleep, of course-that would have made the next day come quicker. But I couldn't! The screams kept me awake, screams I hadn't even heard yet! I could hardly contain myself, the prospects I felt! I could taste it, Smee!"

A smile crossed his features and his brown eyes lit up with delight, at the thought of a few days honest piracy, unencumbered by any complications. Then the brightness departed, and the frown returned. Gloom built upon his brow until it was a thunder-head. "Now all I can think about is revenge. And I shall have it Smee. Oh yes. I will settle for nothing less. Maybe she is the one on these papers, and maybe she is not, but it matters not to me. I have her scent now, Smee. I will find her no matter which hole she tries to hide in, or my name isn't Captain James Hook!" Getting to his feet with single-minded, impulsive determination, he strode out of his cabin, forgetting all about his dinner, and headed over to the wheel. Taking it in bold, confident hands, he adjusted the heading minutely, adjusted his magnificent hat, his scarlet-and-gold captain's coat billowing out behind him like a sail. "To starboard stations! All hands to stations! Brace the foreyard and trim that wayward line! Strike up the colors! Let's see if we can't squeeze more speed from this wind!"

The crew would not be sleeping tonight. The Captain was in a mood.

Rochforte
Febre hauled the commander of the Cardinal's guard up the stairs, taking most of the weight, while Rochforte gritted his teeth, and by a supreme effort of will kept himself from lashing out at Febre in anger about his current relative impotence. He'd been injured before, several times, but he'd always saved himself, never been so utterly helpless, dependent on another for his life. It was a sensation he found he loathed. He also remembered the man who'd done this to him, and that gave him the strength to keep moving.

At last, they came to the top of the tower, and Febre waved at the airship, which took note of his signaling and drifted over until it hung above them. Jussac tumbled a long rope ladder over the side, which Febre caught, and grabbed hold of the rungs, Rochforte hooking his elbows around the rungs, since he didn't trust his hands grip. Rochforte was in no shape to climb the thing, if he lost much more blood he'd never wake up, so with a few shouted instructions Febre explained the matter. A moment later the airship lifted, leaving the two of them suspended, dangling at the end and turning slowly in the air, the tower just a few feet beneath them. "Now heave!" Came several voices shouting in usion. "Heave! Heave! Heave!" Each shout signaled them hauled several more feet in the air, until they were level with the railing and hauled onto the deck.

Rochforte was taken to his cabin, and Febre went with him, leaving Jussac still in charge. Jussac was not a man cut of the same mould as The Commander, or his vicious second. He considered himself an honorable man, and while he understood that civilians sometimes suffered in strategic targets, he was the sort to minimize casualties when possible. Rochforte would have kept up the bombardment until the port city was rubble, or they ran out of shot and nothing moved. But Jussac had seen enough death, and was convinced that the ability of the city to resist the coming French Armada that signaled the invasion of Spain was entirely gone, with no ships in the harbor and the destruction of it's forts. There was no reason to stay any longer. They could return for home.

And so the ship turned, and sailed for France, to report the unequivocal success of their new weapon.

Luffy
"I know a thing or two." He said slowly, giving you another long, calculating look, measured and thoughtful, then takes the coins out of your hands. He hefts them in a closed fist, gauging their weight, then holds them up to his ear and rattles them thoughtfully, listening to the clink as they jangle together, finally taking one and holding it to his eye, squinting at the motif carved upon it with sharpened obsidian, the wergeld of an entire nation. Seemingly satisfied, he hands them back to you.

"Come round the back." he said, making a gesture to the kitchen, then hobbled over to a table and rapped his crutch against it hard."Clear out for an hour or so, lads!" He said. "Got pressing matters to attend to in the meantime."

The Kitchen is a pleasant, high ceilinged room, with a large stove and bench along one wall, and neat shelves containing ingredients and implements. It was cramped and untidy, piled high with curios and relics of his travels: books, pieces of bone, artefacts, weapons, tribal masks and shields, stuffed animals, mounted heads, musical instruments and an endless list of wonders. You imagine that the inside of mister Silver's head will look something like this.

"I'll make you somethin' t' chew on while I talk. Prefer t' work with me hands while I'm flappin' me gums. You're a lad, you are, but you're as smart as paint. I see that when you first come in. Remind me 'o me, or so I was leastways." Heading over to the stove, he lights it with a taper, and then begins talking.

"Eight years past, a mist rolled in from t' ocean, and a ship with black sails emerged, firin' as it came. Nay terms, offers of parley or the like." He began. "A strange omen be t' Black Pearl, times it's anchorage means merry-makin', and other times only fear. This time, it came with a reek o' ozone and decay, and t' men who manned it were rotted through, witchlights burnin' where eyes should be." He shuddered. "I be not by nature a superstitious man, but I've seen enough t' know not t' doubt me eyes. Barbossa and his crew be not among t' livin', but they aten't dead neither, and desire them coins more then anythin'. Ye're holding nothin' but a target, meant t' call t' wrath o' a Pirate Lord upon you. If someone gave you them, then someone be wantin' you in Davy Jones' locker. My advice? Throw 'em to the sea."

A delicious smell came from the stove. Silver was no gourmet like Sanji, his meals were simple, wholesome fare, but all the better for that. He pauses, adds a sprinkle of sage, then lowers the heat and turns back to you. "As for t' One Piece, thar isn't a mothers son t' be found on any o' t' seas who isn't after that. Captain Flint put his own crew t' the sword on t' word o' an old book, and Killian Jones took t' Golden Hinde and vanished off t' face o' t' world in search, and many more never came so close."

He paused in his work, then turned with a tray, and placed a meal of wild pork and hen, roasted with spices and smothered in sauces, and something to drink, a flask wrapped in bamboo that smelled strongly of alcohol. "T' only clue thar ever was, was Gold Roger's logbook, so it be said, and if that ever existed, it went t' t' bottom o' t' ocean when Edward Newgate went down with his ship." He stepped back, and placed a plate of savory food on your plate. "Tell me, what by all th' powers, do you want t' One Piece for?"

The Tygre

2014-01-27, 11:56 PM

Nemo

Nemo has no defense against the whips, and is slammed into a wall. As Korra runs past him, he slowly picks himself up and recovers his sword. Maybe it's young woman's earnestness, or maybe it's the intense dull pain running through his torso, but Nemo can't help but wonder if the Avatar is telling the truth. He had assumed that she did not destroy his ship because her powers were exaggerations. Now the captain sees that every legend starts from a kernel of truth. Painful, hard truth. Nemo runs after Korra. Either she is guilty and will try to flee, or she is not and she will find the true culprit.

AnimeKid

2014-01-30, 02:08 AM

Draxx

2014-01-30, 06:46 AM

Long John Silver
Silver gives you another long, penetrating look, his shrewd eyes giving nothing away, as he thoughtfully goes over your exclamation. Silver was a romantic - why be a sailor otherwise - but he was not a fool. And yet…

The moment he had realized who you were, something had told him that Opportunity was not merely knocking, it was battering the door down. For here, in the shape of this unexpected specimen, was a Winner if ever Silver had seen one. The Brethren leadership wouldn't know what hit them, they'd been safe and secure and husbanding power for so long, they didn't even think it could happen anymore. Now true, it was long odds, given that there were plenty of others gunning for the same prize - but where would they be when this elastic human dynamo had finished with them? Up the creek, down the stank, that was where. And Luffy - he'd be on top of the heap. All he needed - and this is more or less when Silver grinned to himself - was some guidance.

The Important thing, Silver decided, was work up to it. "Shanks? Aye, I know him well. One o' Robert's Crowd, unless I miss me guess. Aye, Shanks, him Cap'n o' t' Red Force. Good man, as Gentlemen o' Fortune go. Well, me lad, it be a powerful path ye be set on. And why not?" He said, and laughed heartily, a booming, infectious laugh. "Why not ye? Might be we need a Kin', a real Kin' again. What passes for it in t' now thinks power and wealth make a man, which isn't so. And if it don't be straightened out, then by t' powers rend, blast an' shiver ' me away."

He shook his head, then walked over to his cabinet, and poured himself a glass of the laughing water, which he then raised in a toast. "Now this isn't me place, but I think I've earned a few more questions, say you aye? Findin' t' One Piece isn't no simple matter, nor easy task neither. Piratin' isn't what it was, men seek fortune and power 'stead o' dreams, love, adventure, fortune. Ask me, world should be big enough for everyone, but it seems t' grow smaller every year. Does me heart good t' hear a lad remember what's really important."

"But you're putting your sail before your ship, by thunder!" The exclamation was so loud, and so sudden, that it nearly knocks you over. "You got big dreams, but you still need a ship and a headin'! The One Piece be at t' end o' a long road, and you've got a lot o' steps t' go in t' meantime. For starters, a bstarboard lad like you has t' realize that findin' T' One Piece only matters if everythin' else be in place beforehand! So I ask, how be it you're lookin', and where be it you're searchin'? And even if you find it, it's but a step on your path t' t' Crown. And not even t' next step."

"Now, I'm not one t' tell another how his life ought t' be led, but seems t' me what you be needin' be a good agent, a man who can take care o' these issues that arise, help you realize your dreams and takin' care o' this sort o' thin', so as t' let you concentrate on t' essentials." He said, taking a generous gulp of his drink, then handing Luffy the bottle.

"Yer know, like a manager - someone ter take care o' t' office work an' busines details, fer a modest commision. For starters, you need t' expand your reputation, maybe buy a lordship. And that, I can help you with." His eyes brightened. "What do ye know about Cap'n Flint?"

darkblade

2014-02-01, 01:42 PM

Blackbeard

Following close behind Kenway replies. "Actually I do, if they are hunting at night they are probably nocturnal."

Brandishing his cutlass and hidden blade he takes a few of the little beasts. "As for larger predators..."

The ground begins to shake as something large but still concealed by the larger trees takes some thunderous steps in your direction.

"...they couldn't reach us in the cave."

***

Corvo

I believe there are two things you desire. Ursula explains as she floats over to a cupboard and retrieves a roll of golden cloth.

"You want that little princess to return home safely and the power to keep her that way. Correct?" She asks but does not even pretend to wait for an answer.

"I can give you both of these things."

***

Hook

As you watch the seas you get a bad feeling in your stomach. As if something below was watching you, waiting. Aside from the wind, waves and occasional grunt from an overworked pirate it's as quiet as the grave. Neither a tick, nor a tock to be heard.

From the crow's nest a man calls down to you. "Sir, two ironclads flying the Union Jack are approaching starboard...They look more like a set of guns strapped to a sail than a normal coastal guard ship."

***

Rochforte

Your flight back to Paris is quite uneventful. There are few threats in the sky afterall.

You make land a small distance away from Notre Dame, Richelieu is already waiting for you. "I take it things went well with Lardo?"

***

Nemo

By the time you get to your feet she is long gone into the ship. The biggest curse of your vessel is it's size. Easy to get lost in, even easier to hide.

Ishmael returns to your side. "Sir, I rounded up all the fire benders among the workers. I've consigned them to the brig until we can get to the bottom of this. How should we proceed?"

***

Popeye

Your efforts are valiant, but there is only so much you can do. The ship is taking on water and even with three dedicated bailers it can't hold much more.

Off in the distance you can see a formation of ships floating calmly trough the troubled water. Either a pile of wrecks on hidden rock or Armada. The compass seems to confirm it is the right direction but if you're wrong you'll probably lose the ship.

***

Sharpe and Hornblower

It is difficult to chart a course based on a compass that points to a location besides due North. It'll always point to the shortest physical path regardless of what obstacles might be in the way. Such as the razor reef it points to now.

A formation of boat splintering coral the size of a small island. While the boat could probably take the strain it would be quite disadvantageous to arrive at Armada at anything but your best.

There is a safe path carved through the reef by smugglers but it's a tricky proposition. Of course the only other way would be go around the reef adding at least half a day to your journey.

***

Blood and Inigo

You are in luck the airship seems to have lost interest and is flying off back towards France.

***

Avery

Several prisoners accept your offer, if nothing else it meant at least a couple of months before they get shipped off to Australia for remaking while the British government attempted to sort out their crimes.

One man scoffs at you though. "Britain? Never cared for them very much for those wouldbe Romans. Tell you the truth, I rather miss the Druids. I'll take my chances with the guards thanks."

Despite his words and Spanish noble dress his words slurred out of his mouth with a rough highland accent.

Draxx

2014-02-02, 03:44 AM

Hook
Captain James Hook is not unlike a force of nature. He recognized no authority or directive but his own, and once set to a course was almost impossible to divert, restrain or otherwise control. The day before, he would have happily turned broadside's and opened fire, then boarded and sunk them both before sailing on his merry way, perhaps keel-hauling the survivors, or just making the walk the plank if there wasn't time for that sort of indulgence. But now he was once again a man on a mission, once more he had a target in his sight, and the gleam of obsession in his cloudy blue eyes.

Right now, he'd be quite happy to sail past, maybe waving or even offering a salute as he passed them by. But they had marked him, either recognizing the ship, or recognizing the red flag that promised death before the mast, and had redirected for an intercept course. And while Hook might have bigger concerns, he was not one to back down for a fight. "All hands to Battle Stations, and stand ready to repel boarders! Run out the guns and look lively, and hold the course steady." He yelled, voice carrying effortlessly over the ship, and the men hastened to obey.

Aboard the iron-clads, the British sailors could only watch in surprise as the Jolly Roger, sails fat as King George's gut (god rest him, and keep him dead), cut through the water like an arrow aimed directly at them, Captain Hook at the helm keeping the ship arrowing towards the leading Ironclad as straight as a battering-ram. Here the Jolly Roger came into it's own, it was a sleek, fast vessel—a 'slighter hunting ship', Hook called it with affection. While it lacked the weight and armor of battle-ships, but it could dance around them with ease, and it blocked every effort to bring it to broadside and in line with it's guns. When the ship turned to circle around them, the Jolly Roger turned too, the ship remaining aimed at the enemy with suicidal, lethal precision. Again the Ironclad turned, and again the wooden ship turned with her. It was suicide, the Jolly Roger would be splintered to matchwood, and the impact would drag them both down, but Hook didn't seem deterred in the least, keeping the course in spite of it all, and none of his men dared voice so much as a whisper of doubt. Neither ship had bow guns, so there was no ready way to open fire for either ship, nothing to do but ready for impact.

And, when right up until the point when the ships were barely a length apart, it seemed they would do just that, it was only when the collision was inevitable that the pirates made their move.

It was the most incredible display of seamanship recorded in song and story. The way the brigantine's three sail's shortened, then swung around like three perfect mirror images. The way every man aboard the ship leapt over the gunwales to hang from her side like so much movable ballast. The way in which the weight of her anchor was harnessed to pull her tiller with a superhuman speed - these and a hundred other perfectly synchronized and choreographed maneuvers sent the fifty tons of Pirate-ship past the Ironclad with barely a foot to spare.

Amidst the desperate ballet of his men, only Captain Hook remained still, the swirl of his crimson coat marking him out amongst his sweating crew. He didn't move until he was parallel with the deck of the Iron-clad, and even then it was only to lean over and wave a clenched fist at the sailor's faces. Before the Iron-clad had a chance to recover, much less turn and attempt to begin pursuit, Hook pulled level with the straggler. Like it's twin, it was a heavy, ponderous ship, but it had them clean on, beam to beam. It was here that Hook's intentions became clear. He meant to out-race the enemy, passing it's angle of fire before much damage could be done and continue on while both ships tried to turn for pursuit, then come around across its bows.

Hook waved his hand, and a whistle shrilled, then the master gunner commenced fire, and Hook felt the the boom-shake of guns firing below him, as a full side of twenty guns let out at the enemy in broadside at point-blank range. Hook couldn’t hear the impacts, but he saw splashes in the sea beside the Ironclad, and puffs of splinters and pieces of rail fly off from its bows. Then the gun teams fired again, loosing chain shot this time. They had the range now, despite the rapid, cross-passing movement of the ships. One more volley, and they'd sail on past, leaving the two ships stumbling over each other and unable to follow.

Rocheforte
Glinting golden in the sunlight was a ship, it’s gasbags billowing as it drifted across the sky, settling over Paris an hour after dawn. The ship travelled fast, in one night they had made a trip that would normally take weeks of determined effort, and as it lowered itself to alight on the courtyard before Notre-Dame Cathedral (near the statue of Charlemagne), ropes were taken and fastened, to keep it from drifting away. When it was firmly in place, Rochforte, walking slowly and unsteadily but under his own power, made his way down to the steps to stand before his master, four men walking with him, Jussac among them.

Armand Jean Duplessis, Cardinal de Richelieu was a man of middle height, of ahaughty, proud mien; with piercing eyes, a large brow, and a thin face, with carefully oiled mustaches and a beard. Although he was scarcely thirty-six or thirty-seven years of age, he had already began to grey. And though he lacked a sword or rifle, had one seen him out of his robes of state they would be forgiven for mistaking him for a soldier. He was dressed as befitted his station, however, in crimson robes and cap, with an ornamental breastplate, and some hundred of his personal guard at his back.

His eyes were a faded grey, showing a depth of emotion wide and unsettling, an active and gallant cavalier, the suffering of a martyr, but sustained by that moral power which made of him one of the most extraordinary men that ever lived, holding France together as much by the stregnth of his genius as anything else.

Rochforte sank to his knees, lowered his eyes in deference, then kissed his master's ring (marked with the red cross of Malta, which the cardinal had appropriated as his symbol). He gritted his teeth at the effort, then forced himself, by sheer force of defiance as much as anything, to stand up. Jussac considered helping him get to his feet, but decided against it, Rochforte would not thank him for the thought.

"Your new weapon performed admirably, your eminence. So much so, it made Lardo and his preparations redundant. Deciding the cause was served best without loose ends, I rewarded him as a traitor deserves." Rochforte told him with all due deference and respect, though he could not suppress a wry, wolffish, that masked the pain that physical action was costing him. He needed to recover, to rest and to heal. "We passed the Armada on the way. By tonight, the city will be occupied, and Napoleon can begin his march on Madrid. We left no organised resistance in Cittigaze, and saw little evidence of it elsewhere. Spain would seem a resigned conclusion." He pointedly made no mention of his injury. It was his mark of shame, for him to resolve. He did not want his master's attention.

"A year ago, none dared to challenge the vast empire of His Catholic Majesty, with its great garrisons and galleons, its fortresses and harbours, its far-flung cities and mines and provinces and plantations with their armies of slaves and priests and settlers and soldiers, its unlimited wealth and power and glory." He said, then inclined his head again. "Vive la France!"

Long John Silver
"That's settled then." He told Luffy, clapping him on the shoulder and not giving him a chance to disagree or rethink the situation. Now it was a matter of sweetening the deal, and making himself useful. "For starter's let me tell you about about five million pounds o' gold, enough wealth t' alter t' very destiny o' t' world. It's not t' One Piece, but still more then a man can imagine easily. You could make yourself a kin' with that much, which be just what Flint intended. But t' do so… By thunder, I'm gettin' ahead o' meself. Think about what so much treasure means."

His parrot squawked 'Pieces o' Eight', and Silver nodded. "Aye. It's an excitin' prospect, t' be aye, but such a large amount o' wealth be almost too much. How would one spend it? Men have murdered for t' merest fraction o' that much, such a sum be enough t' upset t' balance in any way a man can imagine. And so Flint decided t' bury it in a safe place, which only he could find, and keepin' only t' knowledge o' it's existence with him. T' crew had somethin' o' disagreement, that led t' somethin' o' a fallin'-out." His face tightens a little at the memory. "A crew o' more-n a hundred, and close t' half that number were put overboard in Long-boats, and in t' middle o' t' Grand-Line too, watchin' t' Walrus sail on t' a chain o' islands long lost to time. One o' which was Skeleton Island."

He drank the rest of his drink, the hard liquor disappearing in a single, long swallow. "We had a chart, but no compass, and they said t' place was called t' Cerenerian Sea, though where that be I couldn't say, not where it be in relation t' t' rest o' t' world I still don't rightly know. I never found it again, though it's said Ben Gunn did, and even that he went t' t' Armada once Flint's black heart beat it's last in Georgia, and that he led Captain Brucolac of the 'Nocturne' that way, though I can't say. For certain, the vampirate never found Flint's treasure."

For a moment, you thought he'd changed the subject, but then he once more spoke of the seas around Skeleton Island. "But we got t' know t' sea, and it's moods. We called it t' All-blue, after t' legends, and t' suspicions I had, that might yet be true, and might not. I'll never forget that place." The old seadogs voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Nine days on t' water, fog so thick it suffocated, like smoke in your lungs, no rain, just a humid heat and growin' madness. We ate fish, and t' net we had was filled every time we put it in t' water. We were as dry as a dessert, and rowing in any direction on a cup of water a day. Then Pew, who'd been master-gunner." Here he paused. He was fundamentally incapable of telling a story without the occasional embellishment.

"Pew insisted that merchants cut the powder, lowering the quality, so used to load the cannons with pistol shot. The brightness drove him blind, but his hearing and sense of smell were both so good, he could track a person without needing to see their spoor. He used to scare men something fierce, not needing eye's t' see. He went mad with thirst and drank from t' ocean, we thought that was t' end o' it, we'd die spewin' our guts out and seein' thin's that weren't. But t' sea was sweet like wine, and clearer then glass, clearer then air! When t' day was calm, and t' ocean flat, we could see t' bottom, a thousand fathoms bellow or more."

"But it were a dangerous place. I'm not a lyin' man, but it strains credulity, t' thin's I saw. A ship could be sailin' happily along one minute - and t' next, it's twenty feet beneath t' ocean, t' surface far above and gettin' further, lavin' you t' claw at t' water as t' air slipped from your lungs and you fell further and further away. I've heard tales o' craft that have crested a wave only for t' sea's surface t' plummet a hundred foot or more in an instant. I saw t' beasts o' t' great depths, horned serpents and kraken and dragon turtles, and one night I swear by saints and devils I caught a glimpse o' t' scarred humped aft o' t' great Leviathan hisself, t' white whale Moby ****." he shuddered, and thumped the table to ward off bad luck at the mentioning of that name. If the ocean had a wrath, it was that whale, he'd dragged more ships to the bottom then counting. He was, in one terrible form, inevitability itself. There was no reasoning with it, save by the axe, and no fighting against it. Even Whitebeard had been unable to triumph against that Whale, and named his flagship in it's honor.

"At last we made landfall at Pitcairn Island, where an ancient ship called 'T' Bounty' was moored over a reef. We commandeered it, and found our way t' Nassau, or what was left o' it. From thar, not much t' say. I finally made Max an honest woman, and invested what little I had port, in places like this here. But most o' t' gold, me share included, be still buried somewhere called Skeleton Island. And only one set o' charts will lead thar."

ThePhantom

2014-02-02, 11:31 AM

Popeye

Well, if the rate of water coming in is that high, it doesn't seem likely that the ship could survive the trip out of the storm. Therefore, it appears that their only hope for the ship is continue on and hope that is the Armada.

"Ye lads, kep on going. We got one chamce, and that's th'se ships ahed. Keep the coarse."

As for Popeye, he goes down to help the bailers. He needs to keep this ship afloat.

Cracklord

2014-02-02, 09:44 PM

Avery
Avery takes the key from the rusted iron ring, where a guard had conveniently abandoned it, and begins opening the cell doors of those who volunteered themselves as possessing both the courage and fortitude to stand firm come hell or high water to return to the shores of England. He lines them all up, getting a good look at them, and nods his head respectfully. However, he does not open their shackles as of yet, no reason to encourage them to try to make a break for it. He's naive, not damaged.

Finally, he comes to the Scotsman's cell, and shakes his head in disappointment. "Now that sort of talk is downright un-english!" Avery exclaims, shaking his head. "This is no time for ease and comfort. Certainly not for meek surrender! It is time to dare and endure. We (The British) have not journeyed across the centuries, across the oceans, across the mountains, across the prairies, because we are made of sugar candy!” It was clear he took personal offense at this unwarranted attack on his country. Indeed, he's on the very cusp, injured though he was, of challenging the man to a duel.

Blood and Inigo
Blood, noticing the immediate threat has become rather less immediate, decides he can afford to leave Avery on his own for a bit, and stops at watering-house that has foolishly allowed him to run up credit, and arranging a stiff drink for the both of them. It wasn't that he doubted Avery's plan (quite the opposite, if truth be told) exactly, it was more that he didn't trust anybody else to keep with it.

After he'd had his drink, he goes looking for the countess. Perhaps she can point him in Avery's direction, and from there the two of them can give this plan a go.

Blackbeard
Edward Teach turns sharply on the spot, his broken sword's ragged edge splitting the skull of another of the primordial scavengers, then kicks it out of pure brutality, nearly wrenching the creature's head clean off. "Am I too understand you repent the earlier confidence you expressed? As I recall, we have nothing to fear." He asked, firing another pistol, then swinging his jagged sword once more, shattering the head of a third before stepping away in the lull. He didn't wipe his sword clean.

"We never let things like this bother us when we were young men. I do not intend to start now." Shaking his head, he begins to advance through the murky gloom of that terrible place, sword dripping blood and eyes afire, with all the confidence that even this land of primeval terror held nothing worse then him. His blood was up, a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time, and there was no reasoning with him now. Ask the wind or fire to stop, but don't try and restrain Blackbeard. "The corpses of their Kin don't disused them, why should the sun?"

Shnyder

2014-02-04, 01:35 AM

Corvo
Corvo nodded. He wasn't agreeing exactly, he was urging her to stop wasting time, and get to the point. For him, the Château d'If had been a crucible, and had boiled him down for his most valuable ingredient. He had no hopes or dreams for himself left, they were extraneous things, easily dismissed and soon forgotten. Corvo Attano was dead, unmourned, and he cared not a little. But Emily mattered. More then anything else ever had. And if he could spend whatever was left of him as tribute to that, if he could make her smile so much as one more time, and let her heart beat one more time, then it was all he could desire.

And if this witch could be the facilitator, she could take anything she wanted. So he listened, and waited to hear her promises.

darkblade

2014-02-04, 11:29 AM

Corvo

"I will give you all the power you need to rescue Emily and restore the French monarchy." She unrolls the cloth to reveal an elaborate contract written in embroidered silver thread.

"Provided of course you can do so within a month. If Emily is not on the throne of France by the next full moon then your gifts, along with your soul shall be forfeit." She holds out the cloth contract and a sharpened fish skeleton. "Just sign on the dotted line."

***

Avery

"Well then it'll please you to know that I am in fact not English. I'm Egyptian if you must know." The very much not Egyptian looking man says.

"But you amuse me lad, I suppose I'll go with you then."

***

Blood and Inigo

The Dutchess herself is waiting at the bar. She is drinking (based sheer volume of the puddle on the ground) far more than a lady of her stature should. Of course she is having a very strange and overall not that great of a day.

"There you are." She mutters barely comprehensively. "Come on, he'll be done at the prison soon."

***

Blackbeard

"There is a difference between reverence as your savage showed and respect for danger." Kenway explains annoyed as he severs the head of one of the little monsters.

The stomping continues and between that and the fact that they can't seem to get a cut in on the two pirates they decide to flee, each running off in their own direction into the jungle.

"I suggest we follow their example. I make it a point to avoid fighting anything that large without a cannon."

***

Popeye

Your gamble pays off as you sail towards the formation the sea calms as rapidly as it had taken to storm. Beneath the lingering ripples of the waves you can see a shifting mass, some sort of monstrosity bound to the boats by great steel chains. This must be the infamous Armada.

***

Hook

A clever gambit to be certain, one of the ironclads takes the brunt of the cannon fire and starts to go down. Through a telescope you can see the hapless sailors on both vessels struggling to rescue as many men from the downed vessel as possible. They won't be bothering you for a while.

"Captain, if they are sending men out after us they will be ready in port. We'll never dock."

***

Rochefort

"Good, I have another task for you." He pulls out a letter and hands it to you. It's a ransom letter issued by oriental pirates claiming to have the crown Princess Emily Kaldwin hostage.

"We found this while dealing with some loyalists turned petty criminals in San Michele." He explains. "The loyalists were not convinced of it's authenticity and dismissed it but if a member of the Royal family is alive anywhere in the world she is a potential threat. Deal with this quickly and as quietly as possible."

Draxx

2014-02-04, 11:28 PM

Hook
Seamen come of age comprehending their dependence upon wind, tide and weather, and so develop a patience for such natural forces that if not saintly was at least philosophical. Being kept from port by human agency, however, provoked quite a different response. If not for the soothing effect the engagement had provided on the Captain, he would doubtless fly into one of his rages and need to be restrained before he decimated his crew needlessly. But the smell of powder discharge and the screams that came with it soothed him, and he simply shook his head at the problem.

Of course, there were other harbours along England's coast, even a few natural coves and inlets which weren't widely known about. But abandoning his ship sit ill upon him, even if only for a few days, and time was of the essence. "I shall be in my quarters." He announced grandly, deciding he'd quite like dinner after all while his fiendish mind worried the problem. However, the enthusiastic manoeuvres had disturbed the clutter and upset the meal. Hissing in displeasure, he ordered it set right, then returned to deck.

"Nothing for it." He announced. "We shall have to take another ship, and disguise ourselves."

The Tygre

2014-02-06, 10:07 PM

Nemo

Nemo looks down the corridor the Avatar ran into, as if he were hoping to detect some invisible trail. Solemnly, the captain decides, "Now, Mr. Ishmael, we follow our Avatar. If she is guilty, then she will flee. And if she is not, then we have already done half her work for her, no? I will go to the brig and talk to our crew; they are owed an explanation for their confinement."

Nemo departs from Ishmael and makes his way to where the subdued crewman are being held. Now he only waits for word; the girl will either try to run, or she will come find his crew. She could have killed me, yet I live. A riddle, this Avatar. She is dangerous; but rather is in inconsistency, treachery, or naivete, I cannot say.

When the captain opens the brig, he confidently opens the door. Sternly, he addresses the firebenders, "Gentlemen; I apologize for this discrimination. However, there is a saboteur on board, and signs point towards a firebender. I trust you understand why precautions must be taken."

ThePhantom

2014-02-06, 10:11 PM

Popeye

It looks like things are going to be well, with the Armada right there. And a weakness that Popeye might use for his get away later.

"Aright, bring Usher up. I be needing him soon."

Popeye address his crew, time to get the person who knows the city up to the deck. There's an exchange to try, and then a lesson to be taught.

Shnyder

2014-02-06, 11:11 PM

Corvo
He can't help it. He throws back his head and laughs, loud and long, until his eyes run with tears, and his limbs tremble with mirth. A day past, he had expected more long years in darkness, going mad not knowing. An hour ago, he had expected to drown, payment for his last act of defiance to the regicides. And now, he had news of Emily, a chance to achieve something for her, and the payment was so small. He'd have given her that and more, and counted himself the most fortunate of men, for a single day. A single hour.

When he has his breath back, he nods, urging her to continue. She had promised her assistance. He wished to know what she would offer. Reaching over he took the contract and carefully read it through, taking careful note of just which powers she was facilitating, and where exactly the power came from.

Cracklord

2014-02-08, 01:44 AM

Avery
Ah. That explained everything, he supposed, though he found the man's attitude downright unmanly. Foreigners. "Excellent." He said with a smile as warm as he could make it, either ignoring or forgiving the patronizing tone of the man. Avery was good at not noticing things when he didn't want to.

"See if you can't get the rest of these gentlemen into some sort of order, then head down to the docks." Avery said, projecting friendliness for all that in truth he was still a little miffed at the man's earlier comments. Still, he rose above it. "Get them into a row, and try to get them a little neat."

Formal was out of the question, Avery could see that. Even presentable was long odds, come to think of it. They'd been in prison for quite a time, they were unshaven, scruffy, wasted and pale, and, not to put too fine a point on it, they stank. They didn't resemble wedding guests, with the exception of the sort who turn up unannounced, get drunk and cause general distress. Making an effort would be difficult.

"Anyway, the next step in our plan is to acquire boats." Avery continued, trying to keep everything together defiantly despite this problem. "The soldiers didn't return to defend the city during the bombardment, you'll notice. No, they're waiting for the Don, and they won't leave without him. This gives us a small window to act in, before either he arrives, or their nerve fails. We'll be going undercover, impersonating his close friends who have been invited to his reception in the colonies, and his fiancé's escort. As long as they don't scrutinize us too closely, should get us aboard the ship. From there, we take control of the armory, put the spaniards ashore in longboats, and sail home to England, rich as kings."

He paused. "Any questions?"

Blackbeard
Death Larsen was probably more intelligent then both of them put together, particularly for a man who was entirely self-educated to the point of teaching himself to read a dozen languages, but Blackbeard didn't say a word on that subject. His attention was focused elsewhere, on the enormous presence crushing and driving it's way through the jungle. For a long moment, he wavered, caught between common sense and violent impulse. He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill. He wanted to reaffirm what he knew, what he had proven time and time again. And perhaps, just perhaps, a part of him hoped the opposite. His conscience still had some power to compel him, for all he fought against it's hold, and that part of him was tired, and just wanted to lay down.

If not for what he could feel, if not for what he felt himself reaching, perhaps he would have done so. But the temple called him, and the promise of a path to the first kingdom retained it's hold on his soul. So he turned to Kenaway and nodded once, shortly. "Rightly so." He growled, as though the admission diminished him. "We divide, and remain in what cover these trees afford. Keep moving. I'll see you come the dawn, at the gates of the Temple, or the gates of hell." With that he turned and, cutting down one of the stragglers of the retreating beasts as though it were made of wet sawdust, then strode off, his movements seemingly unhurried as he listened for the roars of the monster, heading downwind.

Blood
The colonel was hardly one to hold a little harmless drinking against a girl, even if she was only sixteen. Indeed, his only reaction was to put his and Inigo's drinks on her tab before leading her out and two the docks. She's a bit unsteady, so the two of them walk with her, one at each shoulder to keep her upright as they head towards the docks, to meet Avery and attempt a daring action.

Inigo was somber and morose. Deep in his vengeful soul, a part of him thought he had ben intervened against. That he deserved to fail, that even so close his vengeance was snapped out of reach, and that the rest of his life loomed ahead, one failure after another. He couldn't expect the Six-fingered man to come so close again. His best chance, perhaps his only chance. It should have been enough. And it wasn't.

Blood, for his part, was in fine temper. He was always a man who planned big things, because if he were doomed to failure, then better to fail hugely, and Avery… Avery was all such a man could desire. He didn't want boring. He didn't want numbers and lawyers and language, he didn't want a life that had that which gave it value stolen away, and while he didn't much want to die either, he'd never be content in a life without adventure. Succeed or fail, this was to be another exceptional chapter in the exciting book of his life.

darkblade

2014-02-09, 04:39 PM

Avery

"Aye, lad. Let's get on with it then." The so called Egyptian says as he steps out of an the guard's armoury with a distinctively oriental blade, Sozin era Fire Nation if you had to guess. Over a hundred years old and still deadly, they don't make weapons like that anymore.

You and your group of prisoners make your way to the docks where they meet up with Blood and Inigo.

***

Blackbeard

Kenway nods and dashes off into the trees. If nothing else the Assassins did a good job at teaching him to disappear.

Making your own way you continue to hear the large footsteps coming your way. Pressing on forward you come to an empty clearing. Looks like you aren't going to shake this beast so easily.

***

Corvo

According to the contract Ursula will infuse some of her own magical essence into your soul. Doing so will grant you powers unconsciously shaped by your own will for one month. If the terms of the agreement are not met by that time the essence, along with the soul now bound to it will return to Ursula.

It is a rather risky proposition, after all you have no idea what you're going to end up with and even with magic, one month is a very short amount of time to overthrow a government. It took Bonaparte several to stage his coup in the first place. On the other hand, what else can you do?

"Time's a wasting, deary. You wouldn't want those pirates to hurt her before you even get there now would you?"

***

Popeye

Uther is silent as he dragged onto the deck and sees his city. He looks it over with his arrogant calmness. "Hang your colours upside down or they'll start shooting. There is a dock right on this barring."

***

Nemo

The men stand rather unimpressed. While the logic of your actions is clear, it is obstructed by the fact that they as innocent as they are sit behind bars.

One of them, a young woman, speaks up. "Why would a Firebender want to damage your ship? The Fire Nation has no quarrel with you."

That is a good question. Be the saboteur bender or Avatar why would they want you stuck in Republic City? Korra made it clear on the docks she wanted you gone and you have never made enemies with the Fire Nation.

***

Rocheforte

"Good, I have another task for you." He pulls out a letter and hands it to you. It's a ransom letter issued by oriental pirates claiming to have the crown Princess Emily Kaldwin hostage.

"We found this while dealing with some loyalists turned petty criminals in San Michele." He explains. "The loyalists were not convinced of it's authenticity and dismissed it but if a member of the Royal family is alive anywhere in the world she is a potential threat. Deal with this quickly and as quietly as possible."

***

Hook

Smee nods and gathers a small bunch of men and prepares a row boat to go ashore.

A few hours later you make land fall one of your secret harbours. The air is thick with sot and smoke, London is an industrial wasteland these days. Street urchins fight with over sized rats for scraps left behind by those more fortunate than themselves.

One of your men, a young dark skinned lad by the name of Jake, grabs one of the urchins and demands directions. "That's Darling territory. You'd do well to stay away from there, she doesn't like competition."

AnimeKid

2014-02-09, 07:08 PM

Long John Silver
"That's settled then." He told Luffy, clapping him on the shoulder and not giving him a chance to disagree or rethink the situation. Now it was a matter of sweetening the deal, and making himself useful. "For starter's let me tell you about about five million pounds o' gold, enough wealth t' alter t' very destiny o' t' world. It's not t' One Piece, but still more then a man can imagine easily. You could make yourself a kin' with that much, which be just what Flint intended. But t' do so… By thunder, I'm gettin' ahead o' meself. Think about what so much treasure means."

His parrot squawked 'Pieces o' Eight', and Silver nodded. "Aye. It's an excitin' prospect, t' be aye, but such a large amount o' wealth be almost too much. How would one spend it? Men have murdered for t' merest fraction o' that much, such a sum be enough t' upset t' balance in any way a man can imagine. And so Flint decided t' bury it in a safe place, which only he could find, and keepin' only t' knowledge o' it's existence with him. T' crew had somethin' o' disagreement, that led t' somethin' o' a fallin'-out." His face tightens a little at the memory. "A crew o' more-n a hundred, and close t' half that number were put overboard in Long-boats, and in t' middle o' t' Grand-Line too, watchin' t' Walrus sail on t' a chain o' islands long lost to time. One o' which was Skeleton Island."

He drank the rest of his drink, the hard liquor disappearing in a single, long swallow. "We had a chart, but no compass, and they said t' place was called t' Cerenerian Sea, though where that be I couldn't say, not where it be in relation t' t' rest o' t' world I still don't rightly know. I never found it again, though it's said Ben Gunn did, and even that he went t' t' Armada once Flint's black heart beat it's last in Georgia, and that he led Captain Brucolac of the 'Nocturne' that way, though I can't say. For certain, the vampirate never found Flint's treasure."

For a moment, you thought he'd changed the subject, but then he once more spoke of the seas around Skeleton Island. "But we got t' know t' sea, and it's moods. We called it t' All-blue, after t' legends, and t' suspicions I had, that might yet be true, and might not. I'll never forget that place." The old seadogs voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Nine days on t' water, fog so thick it suffocated, like smoke in your lungs, no rain, just a humid heat and growin' madness. We ate fish, and t' net we had was filled every time we put it in t' water. We were as dry as a dessert, and rowing in any direction on a cup of water a day. Then Pew, who'd been master-gunner." Here he paused. He was fundamentally incapable of telling a story without the occasional embellishment.

"Pew insisted that merchants cut the powder, lowering the quality, so used to load the cannons with pistol shot. The brightness drove him blind, but his hearing and sense of smell were both so good, he could track a person without needing to see their spoor. He used to scare men something fierce, not needing eye's t' see. He went mad with thirst and drank from t' ocean, we thought that was t' end o' it, we'd die spewin' our guts out and seein' thin's that weren't. But t' sea was sweet like wine, and clearer then glass, clearer then air! When t' day was calm, and t' ocean flat, we could see t' bottom, a thousand fathoms bellow or more."

"But it were a dangerous place. I'm not a lyin' man, but it strains credulity, t' thin's I saw. A ship could be sailin' happily along one minute - and t' next, it's twenty feet beneath t' ocean, t' surface far above and gettin' further, lavin' you t' claw at t' water as t' air slipped from your lungs and you fell further and further away. I've heard tales o' craft that have crested a wave only for t' sea's surface t' plummet a hundred foot or more in an instant. I saw t' beasts o' t' great depths, horned serpents and kraken and dragon turtles, and one night I swear by saints and devils I caught a glimpse o' t' scarred humped aft o' t' great Leviathan hisself, t' white whale Moby ****." he shuddered, and thumped the table to ward off bad luck at the mentioning of that name. If the ocean had a wrath, it was that whale, he'd dragged more ships to the bottom then counting. He was, in one terrible form, inevitability itself. There was no reasoning with it, save by the axe, and no fighting against it. Even Whitebeard had been unable to triumph against that Whale, and named his flagship in it's honor.

"At last we made landfall at Pitcairn Island, where an ancient ship called 'T' Bounty' was moored over a reef. We commandeered it, and found our way t' Nassau, or what was left o' it. From thar, not much t' say. I finally made Max an honest woman, and invested what little I had port, in places like this here. But most o' t' gold, me share included, be still buried somewhere called Skeleton Island. And only one set o' charts will lead thar."

Luffy was absolutely hooked by Silver's tales. It was just like when Shanks came down to his little town and told of his exploits. The ones that kindled his love of adventure. He had even forgotten the bottle that Silver had handed him. Hearing the end of his little tale Luffy was grinning from ear to ear in excitement. "Wow, that's incredible. And you want to become the crew's manager? Cool! I didn't think of something like that. Alrighty then Silver consider yourself a part of the Straw Hat pirates! So since you know what your doing how do we increase our reputation and get a lordship?"

Draxx

2014-02-09, 09:06 PM

Long John Silver
Hook, line and sinker. Flint leaned forward, his face seeming to shine as he spoke. "Aye, I do." he said, tapping his nose with one long, blunt finger, and smiling conspiratorially. "Listen to me lad, you got the makings of greatness in you, but you got to take the helm and chart your own course. Stick to it no matter the squalls. Well, I hope I'm there catching some of the light coming off you that day, but until then, you need to plan, not just sail about waiting for something to come your way. And that I can help with."

He leaned back, and scratched his chin with a faint rasping noise. "Now, I've told you how we got here, right enough, but not where we are. We had some gold, more'n most see in their lives even, or so abouts I reckon. I lost most o' it, a few bad investments in the colonies as it happens, but most weren't so careful. Most o' be met a bad end, one way or another, but thar's a few left, and aye as aye they talk t' each other some, and they talks t' old Silver."

"Now, Flint be dead and buried down Georgia, he took the pardon, and may he rot as a traitor deserves." In a strange, but definite way, he seemed madder about this symbolic treachery then Flint's actual treachery Flint had inflicted upon him and his crew. "But of those that supported him and turned us to the mercy of the ocean, only one be left. Now, as it happens, Billy Bones be living like a king in Chile. Ever been to Chile? I haven't since ten years past, when Flint was still sailing under Whitebeard and I was ship's Cook under Edward England hisself. I was a merchant sailor afore that, for a time at least, but it never fit me so well. Cap'n England, now there was a trig cove. But Whitebeard died by the by, and Flint took his title and those of his crew that were left. But Chile, ah, a land o' desserts and glaciers and tribes o' cannibals who live in the mountains, and lure you into their pots with…" he shook his head, snapping out of his reminiscences of the golden age of piracy.

"Anyway, Billy and me saw a lot of each other, you might say. He was a bad 'un. He was First Mate under Flint, and a right devil in his youth. But Flint left him a few things when he went inland. The bar silver, aye, and the ship. More'n that, he has the logbook. Flint's logbook, the legacy of a Pirate Lord. And written in that is a path into the Grand Line, that leads to Skeleton Island, and Flint's buried treasure. Enough gold to make you richer then words. Enough gold to impress even the Lover's Scar, and impress on them that the true successor be you, matey. Even to make you a Pirate Lord. And from there, King's only one step away."

"Now, I don't be needing much. A cabin to meself, a look over your ledgers, accounts and logbooks to see sure that everything be proper and shipshape, and an equal share and stake in the claim." he said, with a generous, fatherly air. "What's say we meet back at you're ship now then? I'll just close up shop, and you can introduce me to your crew and show me around." he'd talked enough, now it was time to let Luffy show off a bit. For his part, he was in fine spirits. He'd found a niche, one that he felt he could get to fit.

Rocheforte
Now that was unexpected. The King had got the chop, hundreds of thousands had been there to watch, and dipped handkerchiefs in his blood. And the queen, there was no question of that either. He remembered that day, d'Artagnan, the Captain of the Musketeers had been cut down by a shadow men in a red coat, who moved faster then thought. The act that had prompted the uprising, as he remembered. But the little girl, the heir…

He had always just assumed she had been silently taken care of. It would seem this was erroneous. The cardinal had supported the revolution, as he remembered. Overturned the divine right, and acquired dispensation from the Pope allowing them to cut off the King's head. Even lent his guards to keep peace in Paris in the days following the coup. But it hadn't been a simple or easy matter. He'd worked harder to preserve the monarchy then anyone early on. He'd arranged the King's marriage to Lady Kaldwin, he'd done his best to preserve what he could, even attempted to strengthen the power and influence of the crown, and he'd given the king wise and astute advice. It was only when King Louis went to far, signing a loan agreement that would make them vassals of Spain in all but name for the wealth to build yet another despicably ostentatious palace, and leave them with a debt they would never be able to repay that he had finally done what needed doing.

But the Cardinal was a careful man. An heir to the throne, when so much care had been taken to make sure the monarchy was completely overturned. An actual heir, trueborn, not one of the King's innumerable illegitimate children he imagined were still floating around. How… inconvenient.

He lifted his eye to look at his master. For France, he always said, but had he instigated this? Was this princess his master's backup plan if the revolution had fallen through? It was the sort of thing the Cardinal would do. He wouldn't buckle his shoes without a backup plan.

More importantly, where did this leave him? "It is done, your grace." He said, kissing the Cardinal's ring again, then getting to his feet and taking the letter. With that he turned and strode off towards the Tuileries Palace, the residence of the little Emperor, and the greatest general in the world. He had two meetings. The first with the conqueror, the second with the other chief agent of the the Cardinal, whose aid he would need in uncovering the whereabouts of the princess. Milady de Winter.

Hook
The pirate looked around the city with a bemused air, getting looks of the same given that his style of dress was two entire dynasties out of date (not that it bothered him, he happened to think they all looked rather drab and unexciting, and awed as they were by his magnificence, most of them privately agreed). London had changed a lot since he last set sail, not entirely for the better to his mind. Though the fact that urchins were still scrambling around desperate for crusts of bred and little better then animals warmed the cockles of his heart. That much reminded him of home, although all the industrial buildings and cold, unembellished stone and brick terraces rather irritated him.

He walked over to the youngest pirate in his crew, a towering crimson figure who would make even the boldest heart quail, and shook his head, his curls bouncing as he did. "Jake, laddie, we've talked about this." He said, taking on a fatherly air as he placed a benevolent hand on the shoulder of the younger pirate, the gesture speaking of an almost paternal affection. Hook was a terrible influence on anyone. "When you grab someone, you don't let them give you lip. That way leads to disrespect. No, you have to show him you mean business. Show them why they can't cross you. You need to" he made an elaborating guesture with his hook "establish your credentials."

Moving past the chastised cabin boy, he hefted the urchin in his good hand, holding him but the ankle so that he dangled upside down, and knick-knacks and shaved coins fell out of his pockets to rattle on the cobbles bellow, then lifted him with easy strength until the two of them were face to face, their noses almost touching. He raised his hook, until it was an eyelash away from the urchin's eye, and held it there, just as he held the urchin dangling above him. "Now, whatever you were going to say to him, say to me first. I find myself curious about this Darling, and what it is that has you all scared. Why don't you tell me everything?"

The Tygre

2014-02-11, 07:23 PM

Nemo

Nemo explains, "A logical query. But there is no reason to assume that this firebender owes any allegiance to the Fire Nation. You are all members of my crew, and our nation is none but the sea. All else is sentiment. Loyalty can be bought, and Republic City is infamous for its triads and criminals. A mercenary would not be difficult to procure."

"This leaves the obvious question; could it not be the Avatar? And I confess, I have not discounted that theory. Her arrival here may be as affirming as her departure. But, I do not believe that it is the Avatar for two simple reasons; one of my crew is dead, and I am alive. A crewman was found next to the broken pipe, apparently dead as he attempted to repair it. While I do not claim to be an expert on the Avatar, this much I know; they do not kill lightly. Furthermore, if the Avatar wanted to halt the Nautilus, she would have been more thorough. She could have frozen us in an iceberg, or bent the propeller out of shape, or even destroyed the engine; she would not have melted a pipe that can be replaced in an hour's time. This is the work of a novice."

"I encountered the Avatar in the halls of the ship, and when I confronted her with her crime, she denied guilt and claimed that she was pursuing a stowaway firebender. When I refused to let her move past me, she forced me out of the way. But I am alive. If the Avatar is a killer, then she could have easily ended me. Indeed, that would have been the most logical course of action from the beginning. It would be illogical to kill one man and then leave another to live. And if she could have bested me without severe harm, why not the dead crew-man? It is possible that this is all part of an exceptionally clever ruse, but I do not believe so. I have heard little of this Avatar, but what I have heard does not paint an image of a tactical genius, so to speak."

"This does not rule out a third, far more grim possibility; that the Avatar is the saboteur, and that there is also a murderer on board this ship."

ThePhantom

2014-02-11, 11:50 PM

Popeye

Well, its not like he would lie about something that would cost him his own life.

"Flip the colors and move to starboard!"

He instructs the crew, keeping a eye on Usher. Don't want him to try to get away, not yet.

Shnyder

2014-02-13, 12:09 AM

Corvo
He read the contract carefully, mulling over every word, ignoring her insistence he hurry up. Occasionally he'd pause thoughtfully, then shake his head and go on reading, much of it went over his head, for he was not a warlock, but he was mostly satisfied by what he read. It was not particularly favorable to him, effecting a counter-revolution against the regicides in France was probably impossible, and the act of doing so would most likely ruin the nation. But in a month, he could change a lot. Put a lot into motion. A month was not such a long time in the scheme of things. But to a dead man, it was a long time, longer then he could ask.

When he was satisfied that it was only his own life that the Sea Witch would have a hold over in the deal, he put it down, and nodded to her once, his expression somewhere between eagerness and bleak acceptance. Taking the sharp nib of bone, he opened his wrist, and signed the contract in beautiful copperplate handwriting, in triplicate, first in French, his adopted language, then in Spanish, his native tongue, then finally in English, the language the Sea Witch was speaking for some reason.

He wasn't sure even that putting Emily back in the throne was in her best interest. Perhaps a settlement was possible, for whatever happened he believed Richelieu wanted what was best for France, even if the Little General was mostly concerned about glory. Glancing about, he nodded in silent resolve. First he had to find Emily. He could do that. He might not know the identity of the red coated assassin that had spirited her away, but he knew a man who could help him find the man, even after all this time. Lord Percy.

Then he gasped, as he felt something so cold it burned carve into the flesh on the back of his hand. Holding it up to his eyes, they widened in surprise and a little superstitious dread as a mark was etched on his hand, the same one that decorated the carved whalebone around her sanctum. he felt different, as though he was removed from the world, a step out of sync, an outsider watching the world through a clear window, or something similar. His body felt cold, cold as ice, and as hard. His aches and pains no longer existed. He was stronger. Surer. More then he'd ever been, even six years ago, when he had loved a queen from afar, and held a girl in his hands and known she was more precious then anything else could ever be.

He took a step, and realized he had crossed a hundred feet, the entire length of the cavern in a single step. He could feel the eyes of the sea witch, know what she was looking at, what she saw, he could see the fish in the ocean beyond, through thirty feet of solid rock, he was aware of everything.

Part of him wanted to take time to acclimatize, but he ignored it. He had to get to England, and find the trail that led to Emily. He stepped over to the stone wall he had been drawn through, and with a step walked through it, as though it wasn't there. Then he began swimming. It was a long way up the coast and across the channel.

Corvond

2014-02-13, 12:45 AM

Hornblower
"The reefs. Hold the course steady, trim the sail and slacken the pace." He said, making a few minute adjustments to the wheel like a surgeon prepping for an operation. Something had changed, before, he'd been standoffish and a little neurotic. Now, stern command was written on every line and crease of his face.

"We're going directly through."

Cracklord

2014-02-13, 01:51 AM

Operation: Cobra
By the time that Avery got there, Blood has managed to barter two long boats, which are at the jetty waiting for them. The wizened fisherman was a tough negotiator, but since the check Blood had payed him with was only going to bounce anyway, Blood called it a draw. He had then done his best to make the boats seem a little festive, with some crepe paper and a pot of glue, and had changed his clothes into his good set, which he only wore on special occasions. It wasn't really very effective as camouflage, but he figured it wouldn't much matter, with the confusion after the bombardment the Spanish would see what they expected to see.

For his part, Avery was in a fairly good mood. His outlook was commendably bright, his disposition cheery and confident, and his manner bright. Indeed, he was so optimistic of the resigned conclusion of their success, that he was already making a mental check-list of what to take care of when he returned to England, and in what order to do it. Naturally he would have to arrange which pardons could be arranged for the faithful sorts who'd made his escape possible (he charitably included the prisoners in this assessment), then he'd make his report to the admiralty and Queen Victoria herself, and explain to them that the Don had indeed been in cahoots with the pirate lords (which of course was his mission, you'll remember), although he wasn't entirely satisfied it was a matter of national policy. With that out of the way, he could continue his war against the pirates, although not right away. First he'd go home, do some light reading (he was quite taken with Marcus Aurelius at the moment, but thought he'd prefer to finish the notes of Mister Charles Darwin, whose ideas he found positively enlightening), and get a good night sleep before he set sail again (which reminded him, he'd need to dispense of the treasure). The crew were good enough sorts, but they wouldn't do for the next part, when he recruited a new crew at the casting agency, he'd be sure to bring his butler, and maybe a rude mechanical or two for comic relief. He was having to supply the majority of the jokes personally, and while he was hardly opposed, he felt that it was at his own expense, and the expense of the mission.

Inigo and the countess sat at the head of one of the long boats, trying to look natural, and Ramirez sat at the head of the other, and the former prisoners rowed towards the ship. Inigo was still sour and moody about the unsatisfactory resolution of the duel he had spent his entire life obsessing over. He'd had the one drink, unwisely prompted by Blood, and it had been both far too much and not nearly enough at once. Inigo was falling back into bad habits, and needed to be steered clear of them or else it would go a familiar way, and he'd wind up in manic depression and drink.

Colonel Blood was at the back, delegating all the work and not liking a bit the vicious looks many of the prisoners had about them, that his companions seemed to be either consciously ignoring or entirely unaware of. Avery had talked them out of the prison, yes, but he was fairly sure none of them would object to throwing the good captain over the side and making good their escape on their own terms, and it wouldn't take much to organize them into doing it. The minute they got a whiff of the treasure the Don had collected they would mutiny and turn pirate before Avery could so much as run up the colors, Blood thought bleakly. And who would it fall to, to try and save the situation? Colonel Blood, as usual. And who'd get all the credit? That would be Avery. He sighed and shook his head. He gave the shore a slightly longing look. Too far now, even to swim. He sighed, and adjusted his armaments, trying to look deliberate and not like the straps were a little too tight (Blood was a superb swordsmen, almost olympic gold medal level actually, but bouncing about with cits' plump wives and drinking mulled canary at 4 a.m. had sapped his vigor and stole away his speed and his edge just that little bit).

Ramirez, for his part, was enjoying the experience quite a bit, and smiling a wide and satisfied smile. It was certainly unique, even novel, and when you live as long as he had, you no longer expect to find yourself in situations so completely unfamiliar. He'd known the man four minutes, and already Avery was the most entertainment he'd had since he left Japan.

The countess was just happy to be well out of Don Lardo's flabby reach. She was a slight thing, a little bit delicate, and had indulged a few too many daiquiri's earlier, on an empty stomach and with very little tolerance for the stuff had left her pleasantly buoyant on fumes of alcohol.

When they were within hailing distance, Avery raised his hand, and spoke fluent, unaccented Spanish. "The Don should be here shortly, we're to escort his fiance. May we come aboard?" Now for the moment of truth. They could see the Countess, so even if they were suspicious, they wouldn't have any grounds for refusal.

As the Spaniards discussed this, a few of the more intelligent of their number noting it was very odd, the longboats crept forward, until they were only one or two lengths away. And this? This is where Avery earns his money, as with a yell of: "Follow me, men, and remember it's a foreign ship, so behave as you would at home!" he launches himself rapier-first into the mob of moustachioed grandees on the quarter-deck, trumpets sounding as Erich Wolfgang Korngold (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-RPzAbW7No)'s music thundering to a crescendo in the background, before engaging them a dozen at a time. He disarmed one marine, pinked a second, kicked a third carefully above the belt, kayoed a fourth with a perfectly straight left, before whirling on, knocking aside their flailing blades with contemptuous ease. The prisoners watched confusedly for a moment, then realized, more or less in the same instant, that he had meant them, and that they were expected to follow. Quite a few of them, I'm sorry to say, thought 'good riddance' and were content to abandon him then and there, but behind them was nothing but the city they'd escaped, to either side was nothing but open ocean, and the only way forward was behind Avery, and so with no other options really suggesting themselves they pile in behind him.

Well, that's it. Never in any romantic fiction has a horde of desperate criminals, roaring phrases like "Avast!" and "Aaarrgh!" and "Where's the purser's office?" stormed the decks of a galleon with any result but the resigned conclusion, and the Dons, having figured out that they'd fallen for the wooden horse gambit (oldest trick in the book, that one), knew perfectly well just where this left them.

The officers thrust and parried haughtily for a minute or two, crying "Caramba!" and subsiding with blood on their ruffles, but their hearts weren't in it (the stains never come out, you know?) while their inferiors did a bit of pushing and shoving on the main deck before scuttling away in search of safety, life-jackets, and white flags. Blood headed for the armory, to supplement the arms the pirates had managed to acquire, and Avery, seeing the battle seemed to be turning in his favor swung a convenient line which are always hanging about on all decent ships for just such an eventuality, over to the for'c'sle, where he pointed his rapier at the Captain and demanded his surrender.

And perhaps in some more sober moment we might spare a grateful thought for the nameless scoundrels who, for the basest of motives no doubt, broke the power of Spain in the western oceans in just such actions, and all unwittingly made the world a better place to live in, before they went to their unhonoured account, leaving behind as their own memorial only the doughnut (which they invented) and a pantomime figure with a patch over its eye, a scarf round its beetling brows, and a parrot on its shoulder.

Blackbeard
He'd been cornered, there was no way but through the clearing, where he would be hopelessly exposed. Turning back would lead him straight to the jaws of the monster, and there was no way around. So he went forward with a will, his steps bold and unhurried as he made his easy way into the clearing and turned towards the noises, calmly reloading his spent pistols as he did, teeth bared in a silent snarl. The thing was a hunter, looking for an easy victim.

It would find nothing of the sort in Edward Teach.

darkblade

2014-02-15, 12:04 PM

Avery

Your aggressive actions take the guards by surprise and within minutes most of them are either wounded, unconscious or tossed overboard. Now you're left with a boat full of scared but helpless minor Spanish nobles. To take off with them would be an act of war against a nominal ally. Also one of them, a bald man with a crooked nose is eyeing you up quiet suspiciously.

***

Blackbeard

The beast catches up to you at long last. Surprisingly it is not a reptile like most of the monsters that call Skull island home but an oversized primate. Bigger than any ship you've ever seen, if it were to travel to civilized lands there would be no tower beyond it's reach, no walls it couldn't breach. All that is irrelevant right now because it is coming for you and you don't have anything on hand that could stand in it's way.

***

Hornblower and Sharpe

You slow your pace and glide into the path through the reef. It takes most of the day but you finally approach the other side when you see a recent derelict ship and a stray lifeboat. It would reflect poorly upon your men to ignore someone in risk but it could potentially compromise the mission.

***

Corvo

You make your way to the surface and find that by the same magic that allowed your starving body to swim as far as it did has made you rise halfway across the world. You find yourself among several fishing boats, one of which approaches and a the oriental fisherman offers to pull you on board. His skin tone identical to the men you saw in the pearl. Emily is here, somewhere.

***

Popeye

You approach a dock, or rather an old Ironborn longship that has been stripped down and bolted to the haphazard remains of countless other vessels. It's like walking over top of a naval museum, some of these ships are hundreds of years old. Several armed men stand ready as you board. "The Lovers are waiting for you."

***

Nemo

The woman who questioned you scowls and slams her hand into the ground. Lightning courses through her body and into the metal plating towards you.

If you had to guess she'd be the saboteur.

***

Rocheforte

((I can't really think of any airborne obstacles for you so I'm going to have to delay you a few posts until Corvo catches up with you.))

***

Hook

"I'm sorry I don't want any trouble uh Captain." The child says backing away slightly. "Wendy Darling, she's the one in charge of every two-bit hood this side of Uxbridge. She's got goons everywhere on the ground, in the sky. If you cross her she'll feed you to her gator."

Draxx

2014-02-15, 06:48 PM

Rochforte
(I kinda figured I'd hang around Paris for a while. Meet Napoleon, Milady, and Javert, and find out a bit more on what is going on, and what went on ten years ago, maybe add one of those lot to my retinue, that sort of thing).

Hook
For the first part of the speech, he was smiling self-indulgently. So even if she didn't join his crew, she turned pirate on her own afterall. That was gratifying, it was good to be reminded what a bad influence he could be. And then the boy said crocodile. Hook flinched and dropped him head-first onto the pavement, his smug self-composure suddenly giving way to a kind of wild-eyed twitching, as though his body was receiving a whole load of self-contradictory signals and didn't know where to go with them.

Suddenly, he stiffened, feeling as though he could hear ticking (although he couldn't), and his eyes rolled in his head. He looked an inch from foaming at the mouth or gnashing his teeth to breaking. Then he took a deep breath, and with visible effort bought himself back into some semblance of control. "Take me to her. This instant. Or I'll break your legs." He said, the affectations gone from his voice, leaving it low and dangerous, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity.

ThePhantom

2014-02-16, 12:43 AM

Popeye

Popeye takes a hold of the ropes holding Usher, and steps forward. Okay, number of people here, that's not so good. Likely will need that plan for the other way off this place. Popeye gives the armed men a brief nod, pipe firmly in his mouth.

"Led the way them."

Shnyder

2014-02-16, 06:53 PM

Corvo
As the two fisherman stared at their catch, the dark figure lay gasping on the bottom of their little fishing boat among fish guts and old nets, gasping and heaving as he sought to fill his lungs with every stale breath he could. He thrashed and struggled like a man on fire, arms and legs beating at the bottom of the boat as he did. The former Lord Protector was a pitiful sight, yet there was something altogether other about him, something sinister. Around the boat the water moaned frothing around the boat, begging him to return, groping at the sides of the fishing ship and shuddering and trembling and bubbling unnaturally, before finally settling to something like stillness.

And as it did, so did he. A hand with fingers of frigid mist snaked through his body, expelling the seawater. His heart went hard, then stopped beating. The fear that such a reaction should cause was gone the need for air less desperate. The pain in his limbs was gone as the numbness spread to his entire body, a coldness that quieted the demands of his flesh. He could not feel his arms moving, but he saw his fingers guided by something that was not himself. He watched as they wrapped the chains of his manacles around his hands and ripped the iron links to pieces. He turned to stare at the two fishermen, his eyes deep pools the color of agate that drowned unearthly things.

And then he removed a heart from his rags, a black, throbbing organ that still seemed to beat, as though a spirit lived on within it. Holding it to his ear, he listens to the secrets and painful truths it whispers. He did not know where he was, or, to be real, what to do. He had hoped to go to England, to try and see how many of his old comrades and friends he could enlist. But the Sea Witch, it seemed, had other ideas. He didn't trust that, any more then he trusted her. She wanted him to fail, afterall.

Cracklord

2014-02-16, 11:03 PM

Blackbeard
The very ground trembled beneath the tread of the enormous ape, and it seemed the world shook with it. Such a creature seemed too large, to mighty for the earth to bear, as Abaia and Erebus had told him long ago in the tomb of Triton. It was the size of a small hill, an enormous mass of sinew and muscle and brutality, and yet the land did hold it, and it moved swiftly under it's own power, at once unreal and impossible, as though a building had sprouted arms and legs and started walking around, yet at the same time undeniable. It was powerful, dangerous, a force without equal in this tiny world, which had never learned to fear mankind, and never had any reason to. It was unnervingly close, and utterly magnificent.

Blackbeard should have been eclipsed by it's enormity, the tremendous gravity and weight it seemed to carry, yet he was not. His breathing steady and even, Blackbeard locked eyes with the looming monster, motionless now, his gaze steady and unwavering. There was no give in his eyes. The great beast was motionless now, only the flare of it's nostrils moving as it snuffled more of the man-scent. The sounds of the jungle faded, sealing them in a curious, timeless moment, as if their tableau had been captured in a woodcut.

Blackbeard narrowed his eyes, and his hand tightened on the grip of his blade. Then he let go, and let his hand fall to his side, his eyes still steady upon the monsters. A few more seconds passed, but Blackbeard made no move, betrayed no fear or terror or any surrender. He simply held it's gaze.

Avery
It takes a bit of explaining, the crew seem barely able to believe they won, but it gets through to them eventually. Avery takes the former captains sword and surrender with perfect grace and civility, demonstrating chivalry and propriety to the utmost. None of the miscellaneous peers are robbed, assaulted or otherwise interfered with in the slightest, they are gently herded and then put on the longboats they had arrived in, to make their way back to shore. He even allows them to bring a few of their choice possessions aboard, although he does not let them get anywhere near the hold where the treasure is kept. He then promptly installs the countess in Lardo's quarters, takes the captain's cabin for himself, and flies up the Union Jack.

Colonel Blood, aware that the ship is secured, now works quickly to secure the crew. First, he places Inigo on guard outside the armory, believing him to be the only man safe to trust, and furthermore not trusting him around alcohol (an irony that was not lost on the colonel) given his current disposition. Once that is taken care of, he then has the rum rations brought onto deck, along with the contents of the Captain's liquor cabinet, and allows the men to indulge themselves as much as they want in celebration. That should buy them time to tighten their control on the ship, and keep the former prisoners in good spirits as well. That taken care of, he goes to secure the hold himself, rubbing his hands. He does not, however, miss the eyes the prisoner is making his way, nor does he miss the significance.

And with that, they set sail as best they can, heading for the english channel, and the White Cliffs of Dover.

The Tygre

2014-02-17, 05:29 PM

Nemo

The captain gives a firm stare of disapproval as he walks forward to the impending wave of electricity. He clicks his tongue as he says, "As I said before, the work of a mere novice. How quickly were you bought? Did you not even inspect your own uniform? Did you think that on a ship whose primary defense is an electrical field that I would not equip myself and my crew with rubber boots? Gentlemen," Nemo says to the other two firebenders as he continues his march, "I ask as your crew-mate for your forgiveness, and as your captain for your assistance in apprehending this rogue."

AnimeKid

2014-02-21, 11:42 AM

Draxx

2014-02-21, 06:04 PM

Silver
Tortuga owes it's prosperity and life to the trade brought by the sea, and the Thousand Sunny is not alone, but one of the great multitude of ships of all sizes and rigs and nations. Silver listened to you as he walked, with his swaggering, clumsy sea-walk, hopping along on his leg and crutch, dressed in stout blue cloth. They say pirates are the merest scum of the earth, and there is truth in that, but you should see Silver's eyes light up at the ship. A man of stone couldn't help but be moved. He'd been away from the sea to long, and it lifted his heart something fierce to see it opened to him again.

It is hard for a landlubber to understand, but afterall, this is the South Seas, and paradise is a gale that rocks the planks and tears the timbers and blows rime in your eyes. Paradise is a ruthless place. The rain hammers you into bits, and casts you for your life. The lanyard runs through your hands and cleaves them. You laveer through the wind and gybe the sails until your arms cramp. And you hang onto the gunwale so as not to end in the soundings. In the soundings there ain't paradise, just ol' Nick and his whips and his brands and the fire. Tell him of a life better then climbing the cordage or riding the forefoot, and he'd have laughed in your face.

"Aye, she's a good ship, sure and true." Silver said, his voice as bluff and hearty as ever as he clapped a big hand to Luffy's shoulder. "She seems a clever craft; more I can't say."

Then he steps onto deck, looking about at the crew. He was surprised, but not particularly disappointed. They were a motley crew, sure as sure, but find him a pirate ship that wasn't. Again, he leaves Luffy in charge of the situation. Best to get a feel for them all before he goes sweeping around, so it is.

Cracklord

2014-04-05, 02:20 AM

Note: I don't want to tread on Darkblade's toes or anything, but if anyone wants to keep this game going and Darkblade cannot return, I'd be happy to take over.

darkblade

2014-04-10, 10:06 AM

Luffy and Silver

A quick once over the ship reveals that someone has been here while you were absent. Nothing is missing but you can't help but notice that things are slightly out of place.

***

Nemo

The other benders grab the saboteur and subdue her before she can even muster another fireball. "The brig with her, sir?"

"You'd do well to stay in port a few more days." She warns not seeming to care that she is subdued. "Armada moves on Malaysia as we speak you avoided the last war quiet nicely, why break that streak?"

***

Blackbeard

Kong may be a great but he was still just a beast. In the face of Blackbeard's unnatural gaze he slows and eventually halts mere feet away. His own gaze towers over Tech but not with malevolence, instead the king of the apes stares at the pirate with intense curiosity.

***

Avery

Sailing for England is a long journey, even with the wind at your back. Starring out at the sea Ramirez approaches Avery. "How old are you lad?"

***

Popeye

The pirate goons lead you to the remnants of a prototype airship, inside a pair of people covered from head to two in intricate patterns of scar tissue sit on either side of Olive. One of them, a woman, although you'd never know if not for her voice, holds and knife perilously close to her neck. "Spinach on the ground please. We'd like to make this exchange as peacefully as possible."

***

Corvo

"...Hantu Air..." One of the fishermen stammers before they both scream in terror and flee the boat, diving away and swimming to shore.

Even with Ursula playing the odds in her favour you're in a good place. Whoever has Emily won't be expecting you, since you should be imprisoned or possibly even dead. This shouldn't be too hard.

***

Rocheforte

As you prepare your ship for another voyage a young constable approaches you. "Sir, I have heard of your mission and I have reason to believe it coincides with my own."

Despite the impeccable condition of his uniform you can see an unrelenting fire in his eyes. To this man his mission is not just a job or duty but a holy calling from Heaven itself. He would die before he would seem himself fail. "The former Lord Protector Corvo, recently escaped my custody. I suspect he may be on the trail of the Princess."

***

Hook

"She don't take well to pirates on her turf." The boy says. "But it's your funeral."

He leads you to a medium sized factory. A business venture that just couldn't keep up with it's competitors, or it's creditors. Now it's machines lie in haunted silence. "She'll be upstairs."

ThePhantom

2014-04-10, 09:33 PM

Popeye

Popeye with one hand slowly puts his cans of spinach on the ground at his feet, the other hand holding onto Usher. Okay, Olive's okay for now, but better make sure of this.

"I've don' what ye asked, now ye let Olive go first, then I give ye him. That way we have no accidints."

Cracklord

2014-04-10, 11:59 PM

Blackbeard
Edward Teach's burning gaze continues to hold the giant apes as he stares it down, his body inanimate as stone, his breathing misting in the air, though it wasn't cold. He wasn't threatening or aggressive, nor disposed to display dominance, if anything he feels a strange kinship with this beast, trapped by it's own perfection, a prisoner of it's own power and the fear it caused. The moment seems to stretch an eternity, then at last Blackbeard takes a single step back, not lowering his eyes or breaking contact for a moment.

Avery
Captain Avery, once more with a ship (albeit a stolen one) and a crew (albeit one composed of cutthroats, murderers, bounty hunters, fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, thieves, drunkards, revilers, swindlers, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, muggers, buggerers and politicians, rather then the more suitable honest British sea-men impressed into service and shanghaied into the navy) had returned to his cabin and commenced his first wardrobe change. It was somewhat belated, given that there wasn't a decent chance to earlier, what with prison, and the desperate escape, and suchlike. In a few moments cleaning up, his teeth are once more blinding, not a hair is out of place, he's freshly scrubbed and even his boots are polished. He's wearing a loose shirt of good linen with some embroidery around the cuffs, a pair of dark pants and a long dark blue coat that whips in the sea-breeze. The completed ensemble comes off as roguishly disheveled, rather then military officer, but that is often the case with romantic fiction protagonists.

"I'm twenty six." He replies, not looking at the old swordsman, but watching the sun sparkle on the waves as they leave the coast of Spain behind, and breathing in the clean sea breeze. Twenty six is very young to hold a captain's commission, he must have done something truly exceptional to distinguish himself, even a fortune and a relative on the admiralty board wouldn't be enough to buy a promotion at this age. But then, Avery was certainly the type.

darkblade

2014-04-11, 10:59 AM

Avery

"...That's not normal right? I know I spent a good decade in that cell but twenty-six? You're practically an infant." Ramirez replies quite surprised.

***

Blackbeard

Kong doesn't move, he remains entranced. Getting a good look at him it's clear he is not what one would call natural. His body is just too tall to support itself, and his fur uncannily pristine for a wild beast. He doesn't belong to this world anymore than you do.

***

Popeye

The female lover removes her knife and pushes Olive towards you. Her companion keeps his eyes on you his hand hanging suspiciously at his waist, prepared to draw a weapon.

Cracklord

2014-04-11, 05:20 PM

Avery
Avery sighs. Suddenly the sparkle on the water was less bright, the sea air less clear. Avery has an inexhaustible supply of self-confidence, but he's also something of a realist. "We're at war." He replied, simply. "And despite our best efforts, Napoleon has the same momentum today as he did when this began. For every setback we manage to cause him, he is always able to devise some fiendish counter. Experience is getting harder to come by, and so any talent that can be found is put to use." He shrugged, a little modestly. "They hadn't any reason to hold me back, and so I earned my commission a year ago."

Then he turned and stared directly at Ramirez. "Though I resent the implication that my relative youth makes me anything like less than capable." He adds.

Blackbeard
He was close. The beast all but confirmed it, though whether it was a guardian brought from deeper in the Grand Line, or it's origins were unrelated and mere (or perhaps mighty) chance had brought it into play was a deeper mystery still that he had no interest in pursuing. Slowly, he inclined his head to the great beast, a movement of respect as much as anything. There was no pity left in the necromancer, no shame, much less empathy, and yet it's situation too closely mirrored his own. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Then he turned, and continued towards the temple.

ThePhantom

2014-04-11, 07:18 PM

Popeye

And with that, Popeye gives Usher a shove of his own towards the Lovers. Then he turns his gaze to Oliver, a smile hinting itself on his face.

Draxx

2014-04-12, 03:23 AM

Rochforte
The Captain of the Cardinal's guard turned to stare at Javert, his one eye shrewd and measuring. "You let Corvo get away." He said slowly, and almost without inflection, though in a manner that very nearly begged to be contradicted. Before Javert could offer explanation or justification, Rochforte took a step forward and brought his fist directly onto the inspector's chin, sending him staggering. The captain gritted his teeth, as his side gave a warning stab of pain, then glared. "Imbecile!" He growled, his hand going convulsively for his sword, then at the last moment brought himself a little restraint, though whether it was brought upon by the calm acceptance in the eyes of the inspector, or something else is impossible to speculate.

"Very well. You shall have your chance. No more mistakes." He growls.

Silver
Silver has been up and down ships all his life, since he stowed away on a merchant vessel and worked his way up to cabin boy before he was twelve. He'd served under Admiral Hawke after being impressed into the fleet, then found himself a pirate under Captain England hisself, then managed to find worse company still as quartermaster to Captain Flint. Silver had never been a fighter, but he was big, and strong, and his height, reach and strength were enough to see him through most of the time. He'd always preferred thinking his way around problems, or better still, talking his way out.

He could see what was out of place, he may never have clapped eyes on this little vessel before, but Silver knew ships, and he had a second sense for trouble and intrigue. For a moment, he thought about the boy who had brought him here, his chance to take back what was owed and perhaps some more besides, and his bluff, hearty and open features set a little. And then he spoke, and his voice was so genial, relaxed and calm one couldn't help but be reassured of fine seas and clear skies, plain sailing all ahead.

"Still got that cursed gold then, cap'n? Good, good. Keep a close hold, that's surest so it is, but don' be shownin' it off no more. No need to call that evil 'pon us." He said, then clapped Luffy on the shoulder lightly, the gesture so natural and familiar even the finest actor couldn't have imitated it, then ambled up to Nico, Zoro and Nami. In a hand the size of a shovel, he swept off his tricome and inclined his head, a wide, infectious smile of his features. "Ahoy there lads, Silver be my name, and it's a rare privilege to meet the likes of you." He says, complementing them outrageously while he sizes them up. Zoro is a swordsman, any blind man could spot that, and the hunger in his eyes is reassuring. Silver has been a pirate for a long time, had heard all the legends, and knew how to get a hold on him the way he got a hold on Luffy. The two women are a bit harder to get the measure of, though a part of him is a little regretful he's not ten years younger, given how the two of them look. Although he can't escape the feeling he's seen the older, dark haired woman before, although where he couldn't say. Positioning his crutch, he hobbles a little closer still. "Your captain's taken me in, ship's manager I'm to be, so if any of ye need advice or direction, come to me, and perhaps we can work something out." His eyes fix on Zoro in particular as he said that, seeming to spark and gleam with promise. "I know it be forward to ask such a thing, but that's a fine sword you have there. Learned your trade in the orient, the lands of Nippon unless I miss my guess." He says, then leans in.

Hook
"And I want my hand. But there are some things in this world we absolutely can't have back." Hook replies when the boy tries to warn him off, his voice sharp and cold and perhaps the slightest bit petulant. The mention of the crocodile has entirely spoiled his mood, the way the discovery of Wendy ruined his pirating. Coming up to the dilapidated warehouse that has fallen by the wayside he shakes his head, looking almost sad. Was this really how the criminals of this age conducted themselves? Such a travesty, what poor form. Not an inkling of presentation or drama, no style. To think they were a few minutes walk from the Thames, from which it was really no distance at all to the sea. And here these grubby little urchins were grubbing around in the gutters when they could sneak away on a ship and become the princes of the New World with just a little imagination. Hook's mood was almost completely ruined now, and he decided to take it out on the unfortunate who escorted them to this place.

"Jake, m'boy, I have an idea." He said, sounding a little closer to his more jovial self. That was a warning sign. With his remaining hand, he extravagantly twirled his moustache, then rested the hand on the shoulder of the urchin. "Get some glue, some nails, and a hammer, and keep an eye on this rascal here. I should only be a few minutes." Patting Jake affectionately on the shoulder once again, he walked up to the door and knocked three times, sharp raps that were unmistakable. Then, without further ceremony, he kicked the door down and strode inside, eyes flashing like the points of daggers.

"I'd know that sound anywhere. Distinctive, it is." He said, his shockingly white teeth flashing as he spoke. "That's the sound of the wendy bird. Come out and play, little girl."

Cracklord

2014-04-23, 05:52 PM

Rocheforte
He rolled with the punch, staggering back but not losing his feet, and nodded when you stated your conditions. "Certainly. He may think himself safe, but no one escapes Javert." He promised, then fell into line behind you as you head towards Napoleon's palace.

The Imperial Guard stop you at the gates. Since their formation, their has been a fierce competition between your two regiments, just as their has been fierce competition between the two most powerful men in France, and possibly the world.
There is a roar in the background, as the Imperial Dragon makes it's displeasure with it's captors known.

Silver
(never read ONE PIECE. Watched a few episodes on Youtube, tell me how I'm doing)
Sanji is quiet. He's heard of the one-legged sea-cook, how could he not have done so? Hearing that Silver means to be manager (whatever that is) and has no intention whatsoever of taking Sanji's job, he allows himself to relax a little, although he's not entirely. Silver was not altogether good news, and while he didn't want to say anything, he resolved to keep a close eye on the old one-legged pirate.

Robin and Nami walk over to Luffy. Nami glares at him, then leans close and asks "What are you doing?" while Robin simply stands there in solidarity. And Zoro, proud at being singled-out by Silver first, puffs out his chest and puts on his best confident smile.

Popeye
The male half stands. He is dressed in dark finery, offset by red silk from the far east, upon which golden dragons and vermillion phoenixes have can be seen. His ravaged face seemed to glow with a pale light, and with each of his steps wisps of ghostly smoke smouldered where he walked, each twisting up like a tormented soul before fading into nothing. The boards and timbers of the derelict ships that make up the city creaks and warps with every footfall.

He brushes a hand on you shoulder. His flesh is feverishly hot, and you feel red hot clamps of nausea at his touch. "You would do anything for her." He says, and it is not a question. He had been silent so far, letting her do the talking, but now he allows himself to be involved. His voice so sophisticated, so refined, that it almost cannot have come from this macabre monstrosity, this testament to self mutilation. His accent is difficult to place, but you would wager English is not his first language.

"It's all a game, you know." He said, as though confiding something in a trusted associate. "She arranges his release, gives that little rebel another chance, and then I drag him back, and she scars him again for failing. There's almost nothing left of him now, you notice." He shook his head, dark curls swishing as he did, then looked over at Uther. "Such a shame, he once had such potential. He could fight, he could think, he could learn. A rare combination, I assure you. I would have made him a general. But now…"

He turns, and looks at you again. "Think on Europe. Old powers, expanding effort in destroying one another while the new worlds watch, not realizing that they are squandering the future. We gather ships, and men, and power, while they waste their own. How would you like to be a king?"