Piratetalia, my contribution to pirate month!

Discussion in 'SHOWCASING' started by EquinoxSol, Aug 12, 2012.

  1. Piratetalia--Chapter 1 England

    The crisp air of the sea and its salt stung against Captain Kirkland’s skin, but he didn’t mind. Indeed, long before the waters of the world broke the banks and flooded most of the world, Arthur had been a pirate. And now he had the chance to be one again.

    Grinning, he stood at the quarterdeck in the back, watching as his helmsman commanded The Dancer like one would a lover, gentle movements, soft so as not to jerk or hurt her, yet slightly firm. As the sun set over the western waters, casting orange and red reflections across them, the captain yawned, heading down the stairs to he main deck of his large first rate ship.

    Three decks she had, one hundred and twenty guns. Large white sails billowed in the wind, creating a soft background soundtrack to their work. As the moon rose behind them, Arthur just barely caught sight of his quarry, a smaller mercantile fluyt raising a pure white flag, all except the bright red circle in its center.

    “Heave to, helmsman,” was all Arthur said as they grew closer to it. They quickly pulled alongside the unknowing ship, aiming at capturing Japan for the Allies, now reorganized due to the circumstances of the world now. Everyone needed their friends, without them, you ended up like Australia. At the bottom of the sea. Without much of a warning, the grappling hooks were thrown across, cannons were fired, and the four parallel planks that allowed travel between the ships were sent across.

    Arthur was the first one across, his red captain’s greatcoat billowing behind him as he drew his long sword. It was then that they realized in the dying light that these men weren’t Japanese. They were Germans.

    Too late to make a quick retreat, Arthur ignored the calls of his crew, instead shouting over to one of them, “Get word to…” he paused trying to think of someone who was strong enough yet wouldn’t laugh at him. Certainly not Alfred.

    “Get Ivan. If he won’t come, try again, then get Alfred,” he added a slightly depressed sigh at the end, but knew that at least Alfred wouldn’t ignore him.
    The crew member, he thought he was maybe a rigger, nodded once before going back to The Dancer, disappearing below the quarterdeck.

    Out of his peripheral vision, Arthur saw the flash of metal and spun around, barely deflecting a killing blow. It was the enemy captain.

    “Hey, Ludwig,” Arthur said, the familiar rise in his voice from his use of condescension heard around him, “why are you running a Japanese flag? Are you letting him tell you what to do now?” He was too caught up in his smile to notice a swipe at his feet until it was almost too late, upon which he jumped up, landing on the flat side of it.

    Ludwig responded by quickly pulling a pistol from the back of his pants, not wasting any time in firing it. He wasn’t playing around, Arthur quickly realized as the bullet graze his shoulder, not only tearing his coat, but the skin of his shoulder.

    Still, he shouted, “You bloody git, this is my favorite jacket!” He would have taken his own gun out, but had lost it two days ago, something he wouldn’t ever tell Francis even if his life depended on it. The taunting would be endless. “Arthur lost something again, he’s the king of losing things!”

    Determined not to get caught by Ludwig again, Arthur turned on his heel, taking hold of one of his crew’s elbows and pushing him at the German while he made his way back to the ship, to see if he couldn’t convince Ivan to come.

    Once in the meeting hall below deck, he took the offered phone from his rigger, and shouted to whoever was on the other end, “I don’t care how you do it, I just want you over here, now! If you’re truly an ally, then you will!”

    “DUDE!” was all he was able to hear for a second. “Arthur totally needs help He’s so weak!”

    “Oi! I’m not weak!” he replied, but Alfred had already hung up on him. Hopefully, he was coming.

    The English and the Germans fought for easily half an hour before they could see a ship on the horizon, to which they respectively rejoiced and cursed the arrival of. Arthur did not have to fight Ludwig the whole time, for that he was thankful of, but as soon as he saw that ship of the line with a raised red, white, and blue, he could already hear the annoying laughter and the shout of “I’m the hero!”

    He wasn’t imagining it either. With a laugh and a shout, Alfred leapt off his ship, landing on the Germans’ deck without so much as a grunt. With nary a break in his charge, he cut down three of the enemy, and still had enough energy to rush to Arthur’s side and pull him back to his feet.

    “Dude,” he said, noting the wound on his shoulder, staining his jacket a deeper shade of red, “you better get that checked out, after I’m done making fun of you, of course.” Despite Alfred’s jab at his pride, the two brothers fought their way back to The Dancer. After making sure everyone alive was on Arthur’s ship, Alfred said, “I’ll totally fight them off, you get your guys safe.”

    And it was in this moment that Arthur realized that Alfred didn’t entirely hate him.

    Piratetalia--Part 2 Spain

    It was several days after Arthur’s failed attack of Ludwig, and word had gotten around (Thanks, Alfred.). Indeed, it was the talk of The Damned Spyder, one of the only pirate-friendly taverns in the world. It was small and decrepit, but that didn’t matter to anyone. They were pirates, after all. It sat right at the dock, on a port on an island just off the coast of Australia, almost always threatening to fall into the sea water at the slightest breeze. Those walking in would be able to feel the wood beneath their feet creak and sway, the support beams barely keeping it up bow and groan with the added wait. Most felt their heart skip, certain that they would be the cause of death for everyone in the tavern. But it never fell, amazingly.

    Walking in, Antonio looked around, seeing the familiar faces of the captains present. The Damned Spyder was strictly captain’s only, to keep everyone knowing everyone, in case some bad stuff went down. Like what was about to happen now.

    Gazing around, he watched the usual insanity of the tavern, everyone already seated with their allies and groupings: The Nordics, Vash and his sister, the Axis powers, Russia and his subordinates, the ancients Rome, Germania and Egypt, along with their group, and the Allies. It was in a sort of controlled chaos, everyone’s strong personalities clashing with others. However, the Damned Spyder was the only place on the oceans that every pirate of every allegiance could go without fear of death, and for that it was quite popular.

    Sitting down at his favorite table, in the middle of the dining hall, he was quickly joined by the only people that would openly call him, ‘friend’: Bella and Lovino. While Lovino wasn’t as awkward around her as much anymore, at least, not like he had been as a child, they seemed to have made up and spend time together.

    A barmaid approached the three friends, taking their orders and running off to fill them. It was then that Spain spoke, “So, Lovino, how’s the Viola Rosa? She still sailing fine? Because if not I can help…”

    The Italian replied with, “Of course it is! But not for long if my brother keeps listening to macho potato. I let him choose the name, but still he goes and does this to me!”

    Bella, who was silent until now, spoke up, “I think you simply have to humor him for now. Eventually, he’ll grow up if you show him by example.”

    “That’s exactly what I was about to say,” Antonio announced, though it was an obvious lie. He simply didn’t want to be useless.

    The three drank for a while, chatting about their various endeavors, Bella ranting about her elder brother, Lovino ranting about his twin, and Spain consoling them as best he could: with promises to help and churros.

    It soon grew rather late, Spain growing more sentimental as he drank more. “And that was when Roderich conquered me and I was living with him. We were good amigos until the War of Austrian Succession, when Francis and Gil and I were amigos.” At this point, Bella and Lovino were both silent, just letting him talk.

    Eventually, he got so bad that Lovino and Bella left him with Arthur, who was on a six day drinking marathon, to wash away the memories of his running away. Antonio began talking to him, with Arthur butting in occasionally, before taking over the conversation.
    They were like old friends, forgetting all of their history. “And so there I was, and this bloody git was thinking that he wasn’t the only one who was getting terrorized by pirates, but every time he brought it up to me, I’d say, ‘Oh, I’m getting buggered by them, too, old chap!’ and he believed me!”

    “That was me, hombre! Why’d ya do it?”

    “Oh, because I was jealous! You used to be so cool!”

    “Used to be? Hombre, what’s that supposed to mean?” Spain asked, his eyebrows coming together as he watched Arthur down another glass.

    “You’re just…not anymore. You’re like Rome, almost. He was big and strong and cool, but not anymore.”

    “You…you…I don’t have a word for what you are, but I’m gonna hit you, hombre!” Antonio said, right before he punched Arthur below his left eye.

    The two began hitting on each other, the other patrons of the tavern shouting. However, one of Antonio’s blows went wide of its mark, and his momentum was too great to stop him from landing one on Berwald. The entire dining hall went silent. As soon as his mind cleared, realization of who he just hit sinking into his mind, his face went from one of anger to one of fear.

    He just hit Berwald. The former Supreme Ruler of Scandinavia, scariest guy in the world, except maybe Ivan. Backing up slowly, he raised his hands to say that he was sorry. “Amigo, I…” he trailed off, watching as Berwald stood up.

    Terrifyingly, the tall man’s lips turned down slightly, showing everyone that his face wasn’t paralyzed. However, that did nothing to reassure Antonio. As Berwald tensed up, presumably to return the gift the Spaniard had given him, his presumed wife Tino stood up, grabbing him by the elbow.

    “Berwald, don’t do it! He’s just Antonio. He didn’t mean it.” Somehow, Tino’s words or actions or both seemed to calm Berwald down, and after a few seconds he sat back down.

    The mood for fighting gone now, Arthur and Antonio left, bidding each other farwell and hoping that this wouldn’t come back to haunt the two of them sometime later.

    Piratetalia--Part 3 Switzerland

    “Captain…it’s Feliciano and Lovino again…” was what took Basch out of his reverie. He had been caught in another memory of the time before he had met Lili, with Roderich. Ridding his head of the memories, he stood up from his desk in his quarters, picking up his gun as he did so. This time they’d done it, he decided.

    Once he was above decks, he again marveled at the wonderment inspired by his ship. It was enormous to say the least: five masts, full rigged, steel plating. It was one of the largest of ships for having gotten it for so cheap. It was aptly named The Tank, and could withstand anyone who decided to pick a fight with him.

    Hoisting his gun and looking through the scope, he could make out a ship on the horizon, and billowing in the wind atop the main mast was a red, white, and green flag. “I swear, if Feliciano is streaking again…” he muttered, but didn’t finish the threat. His crew members knew what he meant.

    Moving his gaze to the deck, he indeed could see Feliciano without clothes again. “Move closer to them,” Basch said with a sigh. “And make sure my sister stays in her cabin until I take care of this.”

    Glancing up at the quarterdeck, he saw his helmsman turning the wheel in the appropriate direction, and soon they were nearing the Italy brothers’ ship, nearly within shooting range. Readying his weapon, he aimed right where he knew it would count. Neither Lovino or Ludwig would like him after Basch was finished.

    One shot was all he’d need.

    As they pulled alongside the smaller ship, Feliciano saw him, and, unable to read the situation, began striking up a conversation.

    “Oh, hello, Basch. How you been? Good? Si, and what about your sister?” He continued speaking, hardly watching Basch’s actions.

    Slowly, Basch raised his weapon, keeping his gaze on Feliciano’s face and not below his waist. Or above the knees. He was going to do it. He really was going to shoot Feliciano this time. Enough was enough, he tried to tell himself. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he flashed back to that day he had decided he’d had enough of Roderich.

    It was the same, and then he hadn’t had the guts to kill him, just like now. Sighing, he let his hand fall, saying, “Feliciano, put on some clothes. Nobody but Francis wants to see you like that.” Sighing, he turned around, making the signal to his crew to turn about and make way for the opposite direction. Just as he was taking a step, he almost ran into Lili, who was standing there looking up at him.

    “Hello, Big Brother,” she said in that slightly trilling accent of hers. “How are you today?” Despite the weather found at sea, she insisted on wearing the dresses he had gotten for her so long ago, something he constantly found himself washing due to the sea salt that got into everyone’s clothes.

    He responded by mumbling something that sounded vaguely like, “Okay,” before heading back below decks once more. Although telephones made it out of the great floods, a lot of computing technology didn’t, and everyone mostly relied on maps to get around now, though what might have been a land mass a year ago could be completely underwater.

    The ship was running out of storage space. They’d already tried getting rid of some of the stuff, but Basch had a flip out over something he spent money off of. Soon they’d need to pull into a port to get rid of all their cargo. Going into the on-board library, he got one of the paper maps, quickly glancing over it to make sure it was the one he needed.

    It was, and he took it to the quarterdeck to converse with the helmsman. Unfurling it, he showed it to the taller man, both trying to guess where they might be.

    “No, no, sir, we’re here, can’t you see that one star?”

    “There aren’t any stars out here, it’s daytime.”

    “Then we must have to wait for nighttime, captain.”

    “Well, okay, then,” he replied, finishing the conversation. He still had a headache from last night at the tavern, and wasn’t in the mood for illogical thinking right now. That thing with Antonio and Berwald had drained him, and regretfully he had gotten into the fight as well, pulled into it by a wide swing by Arthur.

    Sighing, he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, he moved to the bow, watching the ocean pass by him. It was beautiful really, how the sunlight danced upon the waves. Soon, he was joined by Lili, who was silent.

    After a while, he turned, saying to her, “C’mon. I need some indoors air…”
     
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