Galleon of the Black Mast [COMPLETED RP]

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Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Tabby had found her way onto the shore by following the others to the tavern. Luckily she had been able disguise herself before finding Kaija and joining her at a table, though she did not partake in any drinking of any kind. She only glanced at the others that had taken up drinking as she sat quietly with her long time friend. She did not have much to say though, she was tired from all the working on the ship she had taken on. She wasn't much of a worker in the first place and for her to take on nearly half the roles of the passed on crew did not help her all that much. She did not get much time to relax though for 9live summoned her over with Kaija as well.

As she sat in front of the captain she was majorly quiet, letting him a Kaija talk about the plan for new crew mates. She wasn't sure how she would be much help but she would do what she could. Even if she was a princess that didn't mean jack if she wasn't supporting her old crown and in a foreign country. She'd figure out something though, she had been able to escape her father's clutches twice so finding some willing men to join the crew should be even easier.

"I'll go but I'm not sure that I'm be much help other than proof. I'll do what I can though." She said with a smile as she tugged upon the hat that was hiding her long curly hair.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Silently, Scar's eyes scanned over the map while her mind followed what it was Links was suggesting they do. Pictures were easy for her to follow, which was why she very much liked maps and other visuals that represented things. She didn't know how to read, so when it came to naming continents, for example, she relied on the shapes of them to know what to call them when navigating. This would be agreeably simple for them. Climb through a pipe, enter, do what they need to do and then get the hell out.

She wasn't too thrilled with the idea of crawling through that pipe, though. That would indeed be a tight fit. Scarlet was skinny, yes, but her shoulders were broad and she was taller than the average female. Fitting herself through there would be uncomfortable, but not impossible. She smirked while thinking to herself: "This lad owes me one." Not only did she bust him out of the brig from the kindness of her heart! Here she was, following him to places unknown that could possibly doom her.

"I'll have yer back, Mista Links," she promised him, one of her hands patting at her hip where her cutlass hung. The thought of getting swamped by guardsmen excited her. Any idea of a fight got her blood pumping, actually. Part of her hoped that they would attract some sort of attention so that she could get her hands dirty.

"Me only suggestion is we get goin' while we've got time! An' stick ta th'plan, aye? Can't tell ye how many times past crew mates d'cide at th'last moment they wanna go in a different direction, or change their minds at th'last moment. 'Tis why I'm usually th'one doin' the plannin', but I trust ye. Yer not goin' ta chicken out or do somethin' beyond stupid, I'm sure."

With a smug smile, she turned her back to the table and waited for the moment they'd put their plot into action.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Links nodded. "Indeed I'm glad to 'ave ya aboard!" Links looked out the window, he would spend the next hours in the bar, waiting until 3am before telling Scarlet that it was time.

During the hours, Links didn't drink, he didn't smoke, he didn't do a whole lot more than talk with Scarlet and just ponder, he even nodded off once or twice, but this was good since the attack would be at such a late hour. To the bar patrons, Links probably just looked like some washed up drunk passed out from drinking too much. After passing the time, 3am chimed on the clock.

The bar was virtually empty, though it never closed since it was part of an inn. Links rubbed his neck and put his arm around Scarlet. "Ya ready, lass?" He asked with a smirk. Links would begin the walk to the beach where they would enter the old exhaust pipe.

The sky was lit up with twinkling stars, and the moon was a deep orange, full and huge. It was a beautiful night. A few torches lit up the town, but for the most part, it was dark all around. Links walked with his arm around Scarlet, so long as she allowed it, being friendly and chatting about childhood.

"Heh, an when I was just a wee lad, my father put me to th' forge. I 'ad both eyes back then, haha!" Links said in jest. "I learned how to 'ammer...boy did I learn...My arms got so tired tha' I couldn move them at all th' next day!" Links was pretty lighthearted given the situation

"Wot about you? Where'd you grow up?" It would probably be another ten minutes before they reached the exhaust pipe.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

It was great talking with his father again! He told him about all the things he'd seen while on the ship and how fulfilling it felt. But his mind once again turned toward the deal he'd made with that statue. "Father, I am a useless man now. Now that I have traded my skill and blades I cannot fight. I am useless." His head made a light 'thunk' noise as he let it hit the table. Augusto's eyes watched his son and he reached over and patted him on the head."You are not useless. You are smart, and you play an instrument which is very important on a ship. And you are still fast no doubt!" Amilio rested his chin on the table and looked up at his father, doubtful. Augusto did not give up "That girl over there, the small one." Amilio didn't have to look to know who he was talking about. "I think she likes you." Sitting up Amilio gave his father a look. "Yeah?" Augusto nodded his head. "Go with her and show her that you are still useful, I will be return to the ship and wait for you to come back and tell me what happened, eh?" He laughed heartily and lifted his son up out of the chair, giving him a little push toward Tradewind.

Amilio almost stumbled into the Princess but saved himself at the last second by spinning around her and standing up straight. He smiled apologetically before clearing his throat and addressing Tradewind. "Pardon, Princess. Tradewind, I heard you are getting a crew. Could I maybe join you?"
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

The pub was empty, save for a few hopeless drunks, as Tradewind led Tabby, 9Lives, Amilio and his father outside. The air had changed since they had last been outside as a cold wind blew in from the north. The icy mountains located around Helsink were so dominating, that the chill could be felt throughout the world on a windy enough night.

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9Lived tightened his coat around his neck and made sure to take caution against the wind. His left leg, the one that was wooden from the knee down, clunked against the cobble stone streets. On nights like this, he felt his age. He could feel the joints in his body painfully protesting against his every move. He cringed, wishing he had brought along some of the Rum they hijacked from the merchant ship. At least then the cold would have been bearable. Under a blanket of rum, many things were more bearable. He though about the men that had died for his fools errand, his greed had overtaken him. Eden the carpenter was now permanently disfigured and their ship was cursed, not to mention the scores of dead men that would never sail again. He only prayed that they would be able to find a way to break the curse before it was too late.



The dock that lined the shores of West Hambrook was peppered with rogue ships. Some of them were residents of the western sea town while others, like the crew of the Cutlass, were just stopping for a brief visit. It was a popular spot, and pretty much the only thing in between the southern islands and the True western continent. Although no one in this world could relate, it was much like a truck stop on a highway in the middle of no where. Just up ahead was a ship that 9Lives recognized immediately as Tradwind's. This was it. Would they willingly rejoin their old Captain? Or would they reject the offer? 9Lives hoped that Tradewind would spare them the details of the Hourglass, but he held his tongue. After all, he knew that she knew her crew better than he.
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Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Time passed quicker than Links realized. Before long, they were at their destination, the exhaust pipe. "I'll go first." Links said before kneeling down to pick the rusty, neglected lock keeping the pipe closed. The lock was nothing to this master locksmith, he quickly set the pins and gave the plug a quick twist. "Ha! Still got it!" Links said as he tossed the lock over hos shoulder.

He made his way inside the pipe, crouching as he moved towards the other end. It was dirty in this pipe. It was obvious that it hadn't been cleaned in ages. Links didn't have much light to work with, and lighting a match could prove fatal, so he used his cutlass to guide him. Lightly tapping the walls, as to not cause much commotion, as he crawled through the narrow passage. He wouldn't be doing much talking from here on out, and he hoped that Scar would understand.

After making their way through the mostly straight-shot pipe, and after making a small climb, the comrades were looking through iron bars above a long dead forge.

"Heh, not th' first time I've been behind bars," Links whispered. He slowly opened the grate and the hinges creaked quietly with the slow, gentile motion. Making too much noise could get these two killed, or worse, the crew.Links realized the danger in this quest, and despite his attitude, he wouldn't be careless.

"Ok, it's a straight shot ta th' dinin' room window from 'ere. There should be one guard by th' front door, an' two more on patrol so we 'ave ta move quickly. The schematic showed no locks on th' far window of th' dining room, east side o' th' 'ouse. Prolly jus' forgot ta install'em. We'll enter there, then we split up. I'll head upstairs and you keep an eye out for me. The signal 'll be th' Admiral's body falling onto th' floor. At which point any guards wifin earshot should make their way upstairs, givin' us a great opportunity ta 'scape. We'll not be able to leave together, and chances are we won't be going back through this exhaust vent, so we need ta meet back on board the cutlass." Links whispered the directions quickly and clearly before leading the way to the lockless window.

Peeking around the corner, there didn't seem to be any guards in sight. The guard by the front door was trying his best not to nod off, and the two guards on patrol were nowhere to be found. This could prove to be a sticky situation, Links didn't like not knowing where the other guards were, but they had to move now. In a crouching stance, Links moved quickly towards the east wall of he house, right to the last window of the dining room. These windows weren't high, luckily, and allowed for an easy entrance.

Links slowly raised the window, trying not to make any noise, then crawled inside. Links offered his hand to Scar, to help her inside.

"Ok Scarlet. One last thing before we go." Links, still holding her hand, pulled her close with a quick, smooth motion and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. While still holding her, unless she resisted, he'd whisper, "If worse comes ta worse, I'd 'ate ta die wif any regrets. Good luck." He let go of her hand and smiled before parting ways.

Links spotted one of the guards through the window, he was making his way from the south side of the house towards the east side of the house. He hoped that Scar would be all right, then it hit him...he forgot to close the window...If the guard noticed, it would be cause for alarm...Ugh...carelessness, you've finally found me, in th' form of a woman nonetheless...Good thing tha' lass can handle herself! Links though to himself as he crept up the stairs.

Soon, Links was at the Admiral's room. The door was unlocked, fool for thinking that he was tha' safe, surrounded by his walls and his guards. Links opened the door slowly, unsheathing a special hidden dagger from his coat sleeve. Upon entering the moonlit room, he noted the Admiral's jewelry laying on his night stand. In the dim blue light, he crept up to the Admiral and slammed his hand over the Admiral's mouth, making sure to wake him and keep his mouth shut at the same time.

With a dagger to his throat, the Admiral's eyes opened slowly, just waking from a deep slumber. Links grinned menacingly as the Admiral soon realized the situation. "'ello mate. I never thought this day'd come. This blade 'ere, my father made it, strongest and sharpest steel around, ya know? He used to sell these to anyone that'd 'appen by his shop, even ta us pirates..." The Admiral still looked confused. It was apparent that he didn't remember the situation, and this just made Links more angry.

"You don't remember...no...you were way too busy to remember killing my father, the best blacksmith in all of Dimshire...Ya bloody deserve this death." Links whispered in a cool, smooth tone. He couldn't scream, there was no time, Links' blade had made it's move and it was swift. Links wiped the blood off on the Admiral's sheets and picked up a necklace and a ring from the night stand. He pushed the Admiral's body off of the bed, making quite a bit of noise in the process before jumping out the window.

Links jumped toward the red oak tree not too far from the Admiral's window. Links barely made it, as he clenched onto a sturdy branch. He shimmied along the branch until he was close enough to jump onto the wall of the compound and make his escape. Once outside of the eight foot wall, Links walked away, like nothing had just happened. He walked, undisturbed through the sleeping city, back towards the docks. Any guards that might have seen him wouldn't take him as anything but a homeless slumdog, judging by his now extremely dirty outfit.

Links would wash up as he awaited Scarlet's return. He hated that he couldn't see her out, but it would be impossible to get back down the stairs if the guards were coming up.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast



With a larger team than she had expected to flank her, Tradewind wove around people on the street, intent of making her way to the dock as fast as possible. Her small stature and lithe movements made this an easy task but she kept an eye on the others as they followed her to the dock. Tabby was unused to the bustle and the push of the crowd so Tradewind was constantly fighting the urge to rush to her aid and instead turned her gaze to 9Lives who wasn't having so much of a problem since he was one of the people pushing others out of his way. His movement was only impeded by his rusty mobility. Amilio seemed to be faring just as well as Tradewind herself, though he was keeping an eye on Tradewind. She smiled at him and led everyone to the dock.

Returning to where she had encountered the sight of her old first mate, Kaija glanced around to the nearby ships. At first, she despaired as she did not see the Swansong amongst the throng of the ships. Stepping closer to the water, however, she was relieved. The Swansong was there, looking stately as ever and just happened to be a bit smaller than the vessel next to it that had concealed it from view. She motioned for the others to make their way to her, but her eyes were tracing the ship with the warm rush of nostalgia. This ship had been her first, paid for by selling her father's vessel and using a considerable amount of ill-gotten money. The wood of the ship had taken its hits and weathered them well, still beautiful as it had always been. Its sails, pure white at the moment, caught the wind at the edges and rustled in the breeze. At the helm, the figurehead of a beautiful half swan and half human maiden carved lovingly by a German craftsman with astonishing skill. There was no mistaking her beloved ship. When the others had caught up, Tradewind only gestured them to follow her anew.

Sitting on a barrel near the ship was the boatswain of the Swansong, good old Sede whom the others affectionately called Bowsy by the other members of the ship, though for reasons relating to irony. Sede took his job seriously and as he had to inspect the ship every morning, he was rarely willing to drink so much as a mouthful. At Tradewind's approach, Bowsy hopped from the barrel, his face a picture of awed disbelief. More prone to strategy than fighting, Bowsy was still in tact head to toe with a beanpole frame and sandy blond hair, looking to be in his twenties.

"Captain, I thoh' ye'd left us?" he exclaimed, but his expression was bright. It was just like old times, Tradewind thought pleasantly to herself, eyeing the ship. She'd missed her old crew something fierce and to be reunited with them was a gift in and of itself. Before she could get a word in edgewise, Bowsy was hollering up onto the ship for the others not in town to come gather. Before a minute has passed, Peery and Hackum were in clambering down, watched by a curious throng of sailors and riggers who changed now and then when the boat came to port. Tradewind was glad to see them all but it was imperative that she speak to her first mate, who would have taken over as captain in her absence, known the the crew as Threpps Tayle or just Tayle for short.

"Bowsy, where's Tayle off to now?" she asked, her expression slightly worried. She hadn't reason to fear, though, as a figure in a black jacket jumped from somewhere near the bow and landed in front of her. Scarred with an eyepatch over his left eye, Tayle stood much taller than Tradewind and struck an imposing figure. From his crouched position, he took Tradewind's hand and kissed it before straightening to his full height.

"The man here" Tradewind indicated 9Lives "and I have a request for you, Tayle."
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Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Just as 9Lives was shaking hands with the First mate of the Swansong, Tayle, a sharp cry erupted from just over the walls of the inner city. The place where, 9Lives knew, Links, Scar and Kael were reaping vengeance. As all heads jerked in that direction, bodies were hurled over the wall, nooses attached to their necks. Hanged men, dead from the twelve knot before their bodies recoiled back to slam against the wall with bone shattering force. Although no one outside the walls knew this, these bodies belonged to the guards who had let the intruders in.

This set the scene for what happened next.

View attachment 6978With the TPPF (Tactical pirate prevention fleet) in a state of anarchy, their walls breached and their commander dead, all hell broke loose in West Hambrook. Fights and rioting, crys of hate against the Prevention fleet. Since many of those docked here were less than desirable, not quite pirates, but more pirate than civilian, they took to arms at the announcement that the ranking navel officer had been killed and guards, navel or not, being hung without a trial.

It was a long over due uprising. This worked in favor of the Cutlass' crew.



From the top of the castle came the echoing voice of another navel officer. In his right hand was a crooked dagger. It's steel blade casting shimmering light in the distance. His left arm was wrapped around the limp body of a badly beaten woman. Her red hair blowing aimlessly in the light breeze. Against the flickering light of torches that lined the walls, her face was pale, all too visible. 9lives clenched his jaw and took in a sharp, whistling inhalation of breath through his teeth as the realization hit him.


It was Scar.
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No sooner had he realized this when the man who held her around the waist began to scream into the chaos below.

"Let this be a message of our dedication. This criminal had a hand in the death of our commander."


He forced Scar to her knees, now holding her by the hair, the dagger pushed tightly against the soft skin just under her throat. With one, fluid movement the knife was pulled across her neck. Even from the ground a person could see a light spray of pink mist as blood erupted from her freshly opened arteries.
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Her limp body slumped to the ground and was kicked aside.

Here passes Lydia Phillips, better known as Scar. First mate, and dear friend, to the crew of The Nautica's Cutlass.
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This seemed to ignite the already furious rioters, sending them into an uncontrollable rage. They took to arms, and even though a large presents of military was now outside the walls, they opened fire.


"To the Cutlass, with as many as you can spare! This is not the time to fight, we must make it back to sea with our lives!" 9Lives bellowed over the gunfire and screams.

9Lives, unable to fully grip the reality of loosing his first mate, had enough sense left to know when to run and when to fight. He would drink to Scar tonight, but for now he must survive. For the sake of his crew, he must.

The crew of the Nautica's Cutlass, and the newly adopted members from the Tradwind, made their way through the chaos in the streets. Men died all around, some with bullet holes from powder muskets and flint locks, others with belly wounds pouring thick, dark blood onto the streets.

View attachment 6979It was early, early morning. And as luck, or fate, would have it the crew made it to the Cutlass safely. For whatever reason, the navel fleet was too preoccupied to stop them from leaving, along with a dozen other ships of various sizes that followed behind the cutlass, like a beggar on the coattails of the rich.


Back at sea.
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The cloud was getting darker. Eben began talking in tongues in his sleep, asking for 9Lives repeatedly. The Doc gave him various drugs to help him focus, but Eben seemed like he was on his last legs.





With the chaos of West Hambrook fading into the distance, the crew tried to settle back into normalcy. Their first mate was dead and another would have to be appointed. 9lives was in his chambers, trying to reflect on the situation the best he could, all the while the dark cloud, the curse, hung like a death sentence above their heads.
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Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

In the heat of all that was going wrong, Armand was panicing comedically in the rowboat with a large wooden chest in the highjacked longboat. The castle-like structures of the island behind them began crumbling as the darknes holding it together was dying away. He and anabel escaped byt he nape of their necks from their adventure on teh off-shore island hell.

Armand turned to Anabel and smiled. " good thing we made it out.. just in time eh?"' he chuckled, throwing a rope up to a Deckhand, the ship was already a good ten rowboats length from the dock.


"lets go1" he yelled back at her, climbing up the side of the ship on a rope, holding the large chest in one hand, he lugged up the heavy chest and threw it onto the deck of the cutlass, right in everyones view. '"loot for the koffers1" he yelled, standing up tall.

His demonic right arm.. was gone. all that was left was smoothe, normal flesh again. and his presence seemed a little less somber and a bit more... dare it be said. sane.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

This pain, it was familiar. It felt similar to when he saw his father die and also when he had to leave his family. A pain, some fury, and a longing. Amilio realized that this crew had been like another family to him, which made him miss his family back home.

The ship was well out at sea now, safe to mourn. Despite the chest Armand dropped loudly onto the deck, all Amilio did was rest his forehead against a wall. His father stood close by, a silent comfort.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

"So amigos.. what did i miss?" armand asked, sitting on the chest and lookign around. there was a busy, somber air tot he place.. one he did not appreciate. something was wrong and he knew it.


'I... I think I will report to capitan..." He said more to himself than anyone. He stood up and glanced back at anabel. the sea smelled funny to him today. somethgin was off. he sighed when he remembered how screwed everyone was if they didn't get rid of the hourglass... his steps toward Claudius ninelives were heavy and burdened.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Blue hues shined with a new light but she could feel something was amidst. Glancing up to the sky she noticed a black raven flying high above Anabel and Armand, sweeping in and out of view before flying towards West Hambrook. Focusing on the city, she could see and hear the chaos erupting throughout the city. Blonde locks whipped around her face as the wind began to pick up again; pink lips parted in a silent gasp as she stared at the city in horror. Someone on the crew had died. Glancing back up at Armand as he rowed the boat towards the Cutlass she could see the dark clouds still forming around the ship. "Aye! We did!" She called back to him as he mentioned them making it back just in time; she was glad they hadn't been left behind. Nimble legs and arms carried her up the side of the ship as she climbed aboard, she noticed Armand drop the chest on the deck and a few others looking somber and sad. Remembering the vile she had left with a guard of 9Lives quarters Anabel began to look around frantically for the man. Spotting him not too far away from her long legs carried her over to him as she held out her hand and began speaking quickly. "Did ya give the vile to the cap'n?" The man shook his head and pulled it out of a pocking in his shirt. Blue hues narrowed in annoyance for a moment before she snatched it from his hand and glanced around again. "Don't tell anyone what I gave ya." Turning on her heel, blonde locks flying out behind her like small whips Anabel began walking below deck, the sight of Armand heading in the same direction not too far ahead of her.

Swallowing Anabel built up as much courage as possible. She had never really spoken with the captain about anything important before and it made her nervous to do so now. Catching up with Armand her eyes lingered on his now healed arm, she had done that. She had helped him with his arm and made him better. She was still shocked at her own abilities and they scared her a little. Shaking her head slightly Anabel chewed on her bottom lip in thought of how she would approach the captain but she figured to be brutally honest would be best. No one had informed her of the hourglass nor had anyone mentioned the danger of the artifact to her. She had expected them to though; she was just a simple crewmate with not much importance on the ship. Striding along she slipped past Armand and walked ahead of him now beating him to 9Lives door. Oddly pale fingers curled into a fist around the vile as her other hand raised up and knocked on the door roughly. She didn't know the proper protocol to speak with the captain and Anabel didn't want to offend or anger him.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

In that moment, the moment of Scar's death, Links was oblivious to everything. Everything going on, the chaos, the turmoil...it was all...nothing. Links focused in on the murderer's smug look as the last of Scar's precious crimson stopped flowing. Links' heart seemed to stop, gripped by pain, the pain of losing, yet again, someone he was growing close to. The pain of losing someone he...loved? The pain was unbearable. Scarlet...the one person on the ship that trusted him, and that he could trust, was now gone...gone forever...and it was all Links' fault...

Links fell to his knees in the city streets, tears flowing like ravines down his cheeks. He clenched his teeth in anger, a passionate anger fueled by the immense amount of emotion flowing through Links at this moment.

"RRRAAAAHHHGGGHHHHHH!!!!!" Links roared over the chaos before he fell down on his forearms, weeping, mourning. Links was numb in this moment. Nothing anyone could do would phase him. Luckily he was picked up and dragged back to the ship safely, else he would have died with that city.

Once he was on the ship, he found a barrel to sit on, and sat...nothing more. His eyes peered at the shrinking city as the ship sailed off...his eyes were somber...empty...this man had just lost someone very dear to him...the first person to ever really pull on Links' heat strings...the first person to ever really trust Links after his father's death...

As time went by, Links would help out around the ship and perform his duties as a crew member, but he didn't speak to anyone lest spoken to. He wasn't happy or playful as he normally would be...he was very different now. Occasionally, a tear would fall off of his cheek as he thought about the events in West Hambrook. As soon as he had fallen for this woman, she was ripped away from him...like it was nothing...and Links couldn't help but think that it was all his fault...If he hadn't asked for her help, she would still be alive...It was a lot to cope with, this overbearing guilt.

Links would not seek anyone out. He didn't care about the hour glass, the curse, or anything right now. He did what was asked of him then he sat on that barrel, looking out at the ocean...he didn't even notice that Armand's demon arm was gone or that they had picked up new crew members...his mind was preoccupied.
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain, Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before - Edgar Allen Poe
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View attachment 69959Lives avoided everyone upon entering his quarters. The two burly men, Brutus and Lutz, who stood constant watch at his door, stood, as he entered the corridor leading into his cabin, but were met with eyes that gave no recognition. The captain was spent, shattered, hurt. He felt that even half a bottle of rum would not heal his soul tonight, or maybe ever.

It had been a loss, a defeat, for not only himself, but also his men. He hold no man responsible for this. After all, a pirates life was plagued with death. It was a nasty life to live, one that had many unforeseeable consequence. The death of his first mate was one of those. He sank into his chair, barley able to stand when a knock sounded at his door. He said nothing. The deep voice of Brutus sounded on the other side.

"Er, Captain? The Carpenter, Eben has been asking' ta see ya." There was a pause. "Also, Anabel and Armand are here, they want a word I recon."

9Lives closed his eyes, not even a moment's peace, not a sliver of time to mourn. He accepted it. As the Captain he owed his crew servitude, much in the way that they owed it to him.

"I'll see them now, and I'll check on Eben later. Send in a damn bottle while your at it, be useful now, boy!"

He realized he was yelling at Brutus, the nearly 40 year old man who had pledged his life to the ship.

"And get one for you and Lutz, we could all use a drink tonight"
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Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

Armand entered after anable, but spoke first. " Capitan... i.. i think We missed somethgin important." Armand said, looking around. when he met eyes with His captain, he paused, feelign numb.

" sancta maria... Captain, CLaudius, What what happened!" eh said in a shocked whisper. He was oblivious to what had happened at teh port.. toehr than a fight. that much was clear, but even weakened, The Cutlass crew was very capable... right? lose was impossibel for them. they had been throguh hell and back!... they were invincile...right?
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast


Though she had not known her well and truth be told, there'd been a sort of tension between the two of them, Tradewind was still considerably shaken about Scar's death. It went deeper than that though, that she was conflicted and couldn't express happiness about things that she had been happy about. The retention of most of her crew and bringing them aboard this ship had been something that she was elated about, her heart filled with joy at seeing the people that she'd hand-picked to sail with her and whom she had known for many years. With Scar's death, though, not only was she deeply upset by her loss and the brutal nature of her passing but everyone else was also so scarred by it that to have appeared even the tiniest bit happy about this little thing and being reunited with her old companions seemed grotesquely wrong.

For this reason, Tradewind tried to stay away from most of the crew and it wasn't as though they made any attempt to seek her out. She was a little guilty over hiding away but it gave her a chance to talk with her old crew, speak to those whom she'd missed. They were a little tickled to be basically the same rank as their former captain but the old notes of respect still remained. Most of the crew from the Swansong had willingly followed their leaders, captains old and new. Only a few of the sailors had chosen to chance their luck in the town... They were fools, but she hoped the best for them.

It was foggy out this morning as she made her way back to Sawbones. Eben had been recovering well enough as far as she knew, but the pain had still been intolerable for him. While hesitant to keep him on so much opium, there was little else they could do for him and so he was given more of the drug whenever he asked. It was time to change his bandages again and perhaps tell him a little of what had passed if he was still awake. Links was sitting on a barrel near the entrance to the the makeshift infirmary, looking morose. She had few words to say to him, all of them seemed hollow. Instead, she just passed by him and gathered the materials to change the bandages.

"Are ye awake, Eben?" She had little fear of waking him if he weren't awake, since an opium-induced sleep was too heavy to be broken by just a lone question called to him from the crate of supplies that she was gathering bandages from. She had decided to talk to him whether asleep or awake and wasn't sure whether she was hoping for a sleeping man to tell her thoughts to or a waking one. It was easier to be open when the man was sleeping, but from the small rustles she had heard, she would bet that he was awake.
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Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

The sound of 9Lives practically yelling at his guards reached Anabels sensitive ears, she tilted her head slightly as she heard him demand they send him a bottle of Rum. She already knew of Scar's death, she had felt the way the woman's soul had parted from in body in defiance and rage that she had died by the likes of having her throat slit. She could still remember the way it had felt, the emotion from the woman washing over Anabel as she sat, huddled inside the small rowboat on its small journey back to the Cutlass. Anabel thanked the guard softly as he told them to go inside, entering the room blue hues glanced around at it since it was her first time ever entering the captains private room. She still clenched the vile within her hand. Glancing around again she heard Armand whisper in astonishment and question what had happened. How could he not know what had happened? It was obvious that the crew were upset by the death of their first mate; a wonderful first mate at that. Taking a deep breath she allowed Claudius time to answer Armand's question before she would step forward from within the shadows of the wall to speak. Pushing a few stray strands of blonde locks behind her shoulder Anabel straightened her back and forced her voice to not shake as she spoke and held the vile out for the captain to see.

"I've been havin' these dreams about some hourglass covered in blood and a creepy demonic voice tellin' me that we're all damned until you destroy the damned thing." Still holding the vile in the palm of her hand Anabel reached out and touched it gently focusing on the liquid within long enough to let it glow an eerie red color for a few moments. "Aye, tis still fresh enough to work. It should help destroy it along with a prayer from a true princess." With that said Anabel reached out to hand the vile to the captain, her job in the entire situation done. All she needed to do was report the message and protect the ship. Anabel felt like she had already called too much attention to herself over the past few weeks, she did not enjoy being in the spot light and would frankly enjoy it if she was a wallflower. Glancing over at Armand though she felt a small bit of pride well up inside of her that he had noticed her beauty despite the ugly scars lining her back and sides; he had made her feel like a girl but she knew deep down inside that he probably had no feelings for her. Any man that had been stuck on a ship without the companionship of a woman in quite some time would find a dog beautiful. Swallowing she glanced at the captain one last time, suddenly clamming up and become quiet her mood quickly changed from prideful to sullen. "That's all captain. I'll be leaving ya be now." Turning on her heel Anabel simply walked out of the room quickly, almost running to above deck to try to get some air. She felt like she would suffocate if she didn't get away from the men quick enough. What in the bloody hell is wrong with me? She thought as she finally got above deck and practically ran to the railing. Grabbing ahold of it she gasped for air, fighting back tears as she stared out at the sea. Why was she suddenly so emotional and feeling like a child looking for approval from her parents?
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

After a few moments of brooding, Amilio pulled himself together and pushed away from the wall. "Father, I'm going to go visit a friend of mine." His father nodded to him and Amilio made his way across the deck, heading to go down below to the infirmary. On his way he saw Anabel by the railing, looking upset. He assumed she was upset over Scarlette. Passing by, he laid a hand briefly on her shoulder to show he noticed her distress. But he had to check on Eben.

Quietly he entered the infirmary in case Eben was still asleep. He did seem to be sleeping, and Amilio wasn't the only visitor. "Hola Tradewind. How is he doing?" It occurred to Amilio that it may be inconsiderate to not inquire as to how she herself was doing. "How are you doing?"
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

View attachment 7048Captain Claudius 9lives stood with his back to Annabel and Armand, arms crossed over his chest, heavy lines creased across his forehead. His eyes searched, looking with bleak wonder out the window of the cabin. It was dark outside, dead of night, but still he stared into to the darkness.

The old seafaring captain was withdrawn, tired and used. Question flooded his mind. Was Scar's death just a side effect of the Hourglass? Would it pick off his crew one by one until he was alone on the cutlass, surrounded by the dead? Already one had died and Eben lay mortally wounded. Was the Hourglass symbolic of 'The Rhyme of the ancient mariner', a curse that would indeed follow them all until their dying days? Was he the one who must bare the albatross around his own neck as a sign of his greed that doomed them all?

He listened to the words spoken by Annabel and Armand, A premonition. He expected this, didn't he? He knew it would begin like this, and end only when it was destroyed. The hourglass, his personal greed, Their collective demise. He shuttered inwardly at what lay ahead of them.

The captain nodded at Annabel, for the first time seeing her relation to Armand. Both had a certain darkness surrounding them, not evil, at least not in the way that the Hourglass was evil, but darkness nonetheless. It didn't surprise him that they be the ones to come with him with this news.

All at once, 9Lives needed to get out of his cabin. Just on the other side of his desk, he could feel the hour glass. It was evil, pure, unadulterated evil. Not made by man, that much he was sure of.

9Lives stayed silent, watching, seeming almost indifferent until they had both left the room.

"Captain?" Came the voice of Brutus, cautiously from the outer hall of his cabin. "The carpenter, Eben, wants a word. He's the one laid up in the medical wing." Brutus paused "Sawbones says he's on his last legs, an' all." Captain Claudius 9Lives turned at once. This was his excuse to get the hell out of this room. In the back of his mind, he prayed that it would be the last time he had to be alone with the Hour Glass.
​

In the medical wing
​

Eben had spent most of his time, since the majority of the crew had been on west Hambrook, in a dream like state. He was taking opium every few hours, and on the fast track to becoming a full blown addict. On the occasion that he was awake enough to stop himself from drooling, he would touch his face, lightly over the Burnt scar tissue, in an effort to 'feel' what he now looked like. And from what he could feel, it was awful. He would no doubt live the rest of his days as a monster.

He stirred in his bed, the white cotton cloth clung uncomfortably to his side. He was sweating again, profusely, one of the signs he had ingested to much opium.

He heard a voice, it was one that had been there when he was at his worst. Tradewind, he shifted his face, the burnt half, away from her. He didn't want anyone to see.

"Aye, I am." He responded "I thank you for checking on me, but I am ashamed of my injuries."

Eben had never been a saint, god knows he had done his share of bad things, but at that moment, tears of pleading happiness rolled down his face.

He had been touched by a daemon, yet good shines within.

There was a noticeable change in Eben at that moment. His body jerked, and his eyes looked like two onyx marbles jammed into his sockets. His body went ridged, and he arched his back as words, not of this world, poured from his mouth in rapid succession, a prolific string of carefully crafted words that were…demonic in nature.

Over the cutlass, where 9Lives now walked towards the medical bay, black clouds filled every visible inch of the sky. In his cabin the hour glass glowed, like one of those tropical fish from the south seas. It began to levitate and lifted from its place behind the captains desk, where it had sat untouched since the say they left the Kaymein islands.
9Lives burst in through the door to meet a wide eyed Tradewind and Eben. The captain stopped dead in his tracks. In all his years at sea, he had never seen a man in such a state as was his loyal carpenter.
​

Eben continued to speak in this harsh, foreign tongue as his body began to shake. 9Lives rushed to him, pinning his slender shoulders between one massive hand and his wooded arm. He shook him violently, and for a second, Eben's eyes returned to their normal appearance.
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"The Virgins prayer. It's all that can save us now…"
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Eben's body went limp as a thunderous crack was heard overhead followed by blood red lightening.

View attachment 7047


9lives blinked, his mind making the connections. The hourglass was void of good, inhuman, only to be broke by something as pure as a virgins prayer. He almost laughed at the thought, a virgin aboard a pirate ship? Not in this life.

Then he realized, not a believer in fate, but this was too much.

He only prayed that She was awake. The princess of Helsink would be their only hope.
​
 
Re: Galleon of the Black Mast

It was dark...So very dark. If it were not for the candle light next to her bed, Tabitha was certain that she would be consumed by the night. She knew that something was amiss in the air, she could feel it in her body. Then again, she was feeling a lot of things at the moment. With the death of Scar, who had given her a precious dagger and partially trained her, and a majority of the grew at the island she felt broken. It also did not help that the man that she would have turned to for comfort had slipped away into the night, somewhere in the bad side of town. She just hoped that Deadeye did not get looped into the massacre that followed after Scar's death and forced them to leave.

Now she was sitting on her bed, dressed in a simple night gown with her hair for one pulled down from it's high bun. There had been so much death that she could not help but mourn, even if she did not know any of them personally she felt that if she did not then she would lose what little humanity she was allowed as a pirate. It was at times like this that she wished her mother was still living. Maybe if she had not died when she was young her father would have never become a power hungry killer and she would not be suffering such sadness upon this ship. Then again, she would probably never had seen Kaija again or had the privilege to work with such strong individuals.

She looked out of the port hole in her cabin and up into the sky, frowning slightly at the dark grey clouds that consumed everything. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back to her youth when she was younger. At the time her mother was still alive and had taken her into the library to learn a pray. They said it at every funeral to grant the soul of the departed access into the next life. At the time an important guard had passed away and they were having a funeral in his honor. She opened her eyes again and looked out into the sky once more. She could think of now better prayer to say to send off the souls of the departed so that they may find the rest that they need.

She lowered her head and knelled upon her bed as she was taught, folding her hands together as she started to pray in the think and heavy language of her home country of Helsink.

Oh Gods of the golden gates, of the heaves and the hells.
Bless us who mourn in these dark time and bless those who have passed.
Bless the good so that they may rest in the heavens,
Bless the bad so that they may find the light.
Bring forth your winged messengers and let them rest there hands upon us.
Let them bless us and protect us from the darkest of demons, who seek to consume our souls
Open our eyes and let us see the truth, so that we may fight it and become stronger.
Help us banish that darkness and bring into us the light of peace,
so that when we come to you we can be spared and join our brothers at last.
​

Tabitha opened her eyes slowly, now with the prayer done. She felt a small be of peace in her now that the prayer had left her lips. Even so, something was not right...
 
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