The Quest for Monkey Island



Original poster

On a cliff on an island in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night, a roaring bonfire roared. A man with one eye, with more wooden teeth than real, and a wooden shaft for a leg just underneath his right knee, sat this fire. He was an old man, bald with a fray of wild, wispy white hair. Hanging loosely from his mouth is an old, worn pipe. It's seen just as much as he has.

Looking up from the orange-red depths of the bonfire, he stared out over the massive harbor below. The island was vaguely crescent shaped, the back end of it being covered by a huge, dormant volcano. On the slopes of the island below was a thriving jungle which was losing a war to the colonials and adventurers of the island, and all around the inside of the crescent curve was docks, piers, and wooden city-scaping of all type. Traveling farther in-land only revealed the stucco and finer buildings of homes and businesses.

He looked up from the scene below, out on the horizon. The sea was black, the sky dark and empty; no moon tonight. But he hardly needed the moon any longer. He knew, instinctively knew, what was coming.

"Ahhh." He made a satisfied sound, half-yawn and exhalation of content, when, as if from nowhere, dawn broke. The sun pierced the far-horizon of the black sea, illuminating the dark sheet below. The old man looked down at this sheet and smiled even brighter, turning and walking away from the cliff. No need to man the bonfire anymore.

The numerous pirate ships below knew where they were going now.


Captain Bartholomew Hawking stood on the bow of the ship, a gust of wind kicking up the long blue coat he wore. He had one legged prop on the railing, and a scope held close to his one good eye. The other was covered in a large, silver-coin of a patch. Inside his scope, he saw the sprawling crescent-island of 'Melee Island'. It was the last stop before the trip to the fabled Monkey Island could begin.

"Goin' to the Scumm Bar, Hawkins?" Asked a grizzly seaman from behind, finished tying off ropes as the large vessel began to slow it's speed to begin docking procedures.

"Aye, Seaman, and the name's Captain Hawkin
g," responded Bartholomew added emphasis to the 'g'. Looking down from his long looking glass, he looked at the man, showing his one good blue-eye.

"Uh, whatever ye say, sir," the seaman apologized and, turning, muttered under his breath. "Ye gotta have a ship tae be a Cap'n..."

Even from this distance, Bartholomew could see the massive wooden structure of the tale-told Scumm Bar. It was a huge structure, a pirate haven of sorts where men could get drunk at all time of day, and find any woman they wanted. Tortuga? He needed Tortuga, when you could visit Scumm Bar on Melee Island!
Ah, Melee Island was one of Lady Piper's favorite places. The room in the back of the inn that has the cheese wheel, it was some of the best cheese she had ever tasted. The Scumm bar and the volcano, so many good memories. Smiling as she laced her brown leather boots. This island was fun perhaps she would even chat with the voodoo lady for a while. She smiled recalling how much fun everything here was.

The best thing about being a lady pirate was that she could usually get onto any ship she wanted and they never really bothered her. Well the staring, comments and the offers never bothered her. Her hair was a dark red with a light wave to its shape. Her pants were dark brown and gave a sultry shape and accentuated the length of her legs and rear. Her shirt was a light material the color of ivory held to her skin with a tight red underbust corset. Her belt hung slanted over her hips containing her weapons and a few small pouches.

She smiled all the way to the island with the guys laughing and talking about getting their women finally. She would have said something witty but her excitement overtook anything that would have come from her as she was almost bouncing up and down. The crew may have been naughty men but she herself was naughty. She always refused to sleep with any of the crew she sailed with, it made things less complicated that way, and somehow they always seemed to accept it. She had been with this crew for a while and some of them really seemed to like her, which was a nice change of pace. The moment that she got on land she ran to the Scumm Bar with a bright smile on her face. She got to the bar and ordered two drinks. The moment she got them she downed one in less than three seconds. Then grabbing her second one she scanned around the bar.
The boat, My Mother's Pearl, docked swiftly and without error. The gangplank fell with a clack and a thud, and among the first to set foot on Melee Island was Captain Bartholomew Hawking! Mussy blond hair flapped in the morning breeze, the rising sun coming up behind him to wrap him in the halo of morning glory. His blue long coat flapped in the breeze, opening up and revealing light-tan breeches that clung tightly to his legs, tucked into heavy and dark leather boots. They were well worn, but stylish and functional. He wore a simple white linen shirt with billowy leaves hidden within the sleeves of his coat, the front with a V-slash on the chest with laces that were barely tied up, revealing a toned chest covered in thin, wispy blond hairs.

"And begins my quest!" He announced, strutting along the length of the dock. His eyes locked onto the Scumm Bar that stood out so brilliantly amongst the rest of the structures on the dock and, indeed, this front-half of the island. It had grown tremendously since it's early days, being nothing then but a giant room with a curtain to separate the back half from the front, and a swinging door from that back half to the kitchen where dangerous concoctions were brewed for eating and drinking.

The door to Scumm Bar swung open and immediately, Bartholomew was greeted by the terrible wafting odor of the interior. The glorified tavern centerpiece of Melee Island was brightly lit by a number of fires, some where they should be and others where they shouldn't. A man was spinning from the candle-lit chandalier, and at numerous tables pirates of all type were cackling and raising a wild raucous.

Before Bart could order some rum or some grog or even deep-fried parrot, he was distracted by an attractive she-pirate with dark red hair that cascaded half-down her back in waves. She wore a form-fitting outfit that showed off her more-than distracting figure. Before Bart realized, he was standing in front of her with a mug of House Grog in his hands. How he had procured that mug was a mystery.

"Hello there, pretty-lady! What brings you to this house of devilry, of all places?"
Pipers sea blue eyes turned to the first man that talked to her. He was a looker with his strong legs and tight chest. His build, stature, condition of his clothes and even his patch reeked of someone high up in the chain. Well anybody could be taken down but the places she wanted him to go down were shocking for her mind. She supposed it had been a wee bit too long since she had the warmth and comfort of flesh. A wicked smile curved her lips as her eyes lingered on his well toned chest. She stepped closer to him she was a solid 5'5" so she had to look up at him when she decided to answer him after a few moment of staring at him the way he looked at her.

"Melee Island happens to be one of my favorite ports, and the Scumm always has something that worth my while." She went onto her toes getting closer to his ear. Her voice dropped a few octaves, "Perhaps I'm the sort of lady that appreciates such devilry."

She walked past him, that wicked little smile still on her lips as she ran her finger down his arm, she walked to a table further back but not too close to the kitchen. She lounged a little in the chair, her back arching ever so slightly as she crossed her legs staring at her handsome friend. Her fingers went to her lips as she waited for him to join her at the table.

It took only a moment for one of the other men at the bar to say something that must have upset her. She had takes less then two steps before her fist connected with his jugular and her knee to his stomach. She was back in her chair in less than ten seconds fixing her hair. With a small smile back on her face.
The woman was a whole head shorter than him, and Bart was forced to look down even as she stood up to greet him. Being taller than her did have it's advantages, however; he was given the perfect view down the front of her blouse. His eyes were glued to the cleavage the burst out from the top of her corset, and try as he might, he was unable to look away.

He opened his mouth to say something clever about women that enjoyed devilry, but the red-headed sea-witch had already walked past him. She left a finger to trail on his arm as she sauntered past however, giving him that bit of invitation as she went farther into the back of Scumm Bar into the more quiet area, closer to the kitchens and where the Pirate Leaders enjoyed lounging to themselves. The raucous noise seemed to all but cease just past the crimson curtain that divided the two halves of the massive room. Bart found himself looking back, questioning this strange rule of physics.

As he turned back to look at the woman, he was just in time to watch her dispatch of another pirate that had become too fresh with her. Bart's face went white for a moment. In one swift stroke, she had been able to show him her worth in combat, and what would happen if he proved to be a man-type that she did not thoroughly enjoy.

Well, he thought to himself. She would make a fantastic crew-member!

Catching up with her again, he took a seat across from her at the table and went to take a deep swig of his grog when he realized he was only holding the tin handle of his mug. The grog had already eaten away at the mug and spilled away on the floor somewhere behind him!

Rats! he cursed.

"That sort of lady," he started, going back to what he had been meaning to say earlier, "that enjoys these devilish locations is usually a devilish type herself.

I, for one, love me some devilish she-types! So tell me, lass, what be your name?" Bartholomew's voice hinted that he was from the British Isles, but his accent was faint and untraceable.
Pipers eye twitched a bit when he called her lass, for some reason she hated being referred to as a little girl. She had to prove her worth time and time again thus why there was a Lady in her name.

"Fiesty type aren't ya? I like that. They call me Lady Piper, er just Piper. Ain't nothin' lass like 'bout me. What be the name yer given, laddy?" She chided taunting him purposefully. Like him her accent was untraceable. She gathered that he spent much time on the seas and visiting different lands to acquire one distinct accent, much like her. She eyed him appreciatively, hoping he would be as uninhibited as she fantasized.
"I prefer to see it as confident," Bartholomew corrected Piper as she called him feisty. He found himself leaning across the table, elbows planted firmly on the rickety planks that made up the small round table fit perfectly for three. He felt a sharp poking on one of his elbows, even through his coat, and thought it either a nail or a piece of barnacle that had clung successfully to the wood in spite of any cleaning processes.

Well, that is, if Scumm Bar even bothered to clean it's wood. No doubt they recycled sunken ships for wood, it was the pirate thing to do, but what was in doubt was there cleaning practices. Well, nothing for pondering that.

"My name's Bartholomew Hawking, Captain Bartholomew Hawking!" He flashed her a bright, shining smile, his teeth surprisingly white and surprisingly all there. His one blue eye glittered brightly, a pale blue colour, as blue as a crisp-cold day in the far northern seas. "They call me Blue Bart, in some circles. You can call me Blue Bart iffin' ye want, or Captain, preferably."

He sat back then, slouching in his chair and tap-tapping the tip of his nail on the wooden table. "Captain for, ah, any li'l fun habits ye might have and want to show in the, ah, Cap'n's Quarters, ye see. Also, because I'm seekin' me out a crew."
Piper rolled her eyes as he boasted like a small child about being captain. Anyone can get a ship and call themselves a captain, but for Piper they had to earn that respect. He seemed like the clean type that took care and let others do the dirty work, others like her. She laughed her teeth were there not a blinding white but well taken care of and she was rather clean compared to any pirate or wench. She was starting to like him a bit less as he didn't hasten his lips to correct himself for calling her a lass, but then again he saw himself as above everyone like all pirate captains tended to.

"Well Mista Blue, perhaps you should wait to talk about findin' yer crew till after you show me the mast yer ship sails with. I like to see the full package before I go makin' any deals." She ran her tongue on the edge of her k9 tooth. "B'fore you get to any showin' perhaps ye' should start with the wooin' and buy a lady a drink 'for it rots." She knew what she wanted and was a very driven and determined person.

Piper was rather anxious to see how this captain compared to the others she sailed with. She was also getting anxious to see what his bedside manners promised her. He could either be a wild ride or a sloppy mess. There was only one way to find out and as she watched expectantly she moved one long leg to rest on the table as she leaned in her chair with one arm hanging over the back, giving him a small view of her cleavage.
Bartholomew was afraid she'd start inquiring about that. Well, of course she would! She couldn't very well be crew to a Captain she knew nothing about, on a ship she had never seen before! There was something to be said about the person that would: they were insane. And probably someone you didn't want to be on your ship...

"Ahh," he started, unsure of where to start or what to say. Thankfully, before he could wholly tell her that he didn't quite have a ship anymore, she decided to show him one of her long, shapely legs and a nice eye-full of her cleavage. She also strong-armed him for a free drink.

Well, it's something I must do, as a To-be Pirate Lord!

"Yes, of course!" He said, continuing off where he started to 'ahh' in confusion. "BARMAID!" He bellowed, and instantly a stout woman in billowy skirts and a bosom the size of melons appeared with two tin mugs of Oh-God-Why-Are-You-Drinking-That Grog! Bart set two round, heavy silver coins on the tray and slapped the woman on the rump as she waddled away.

"To new relationships and endeavours!" Bartholomew toasted, raising his mug of grog into the air. "And, ah, of bedside side-adventures to be had on primary sea-side adventures?" He asked, throwing a wink her way. While first and fore-most, his goal was to become a Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, well, he could also hold a close second of a goal to be with, well, for now, sleeping with the Piratess Piper.
She took his toast and drank her concoction all at once. Nobody in their right mind drank this stuff daintily, not like she had many dainty habits that she knew of. She laughed as he started talking of having sex in such a roundabout way. She thought that she was being witty and clever talking about seeing his mast. Maybe he was just that dense or she was not as clever as she thought that she was, or perhaps it was a combination of the two. Regardless she was done with the play of words, she was ready for the play of flesh.

She stood up and leaned over the table, her hair fell forward as she put both of her hands on the table causing her shirt to shift down. Her breasts were screaming for freedom, but they weren't quite there yet, as the men behind her were craning their necks for a view of her plump rear. Her eyes were darkening as she was very serious and very ready. "I'm done with the talk." She had told him quietly. "I have been at sea for a vera' long time and I need ye naked in a bed ready for the plunderin' of a lifetime." She stood back up placing her hand on her hip waiting for him to move. He had three seconds before she would take her attentions else where.


Jillian was fulfilling some duties that her Captain tasked her with. She had satisfactory results involving ammunition, food rations and even cleaning supplies. Without her, this ship would be a wreck! Now, she hears that he had run off to, supposedly, recruit more people for his journey. At a disgusting bar, no less. That was an understandable location to find more pirates to employ, however she knew how distracted that man could get.

"Carry on, then. I will deal wit' 'im meself."

Jill was scantily clad like most other pirate women, but surprisingly, she had a little more class, if not a lot more, than the majority. She had an eye for shiny objects, especially gold. The outfit she was wearing could be sold for a large sum of money, since her accessories were pure gold and one of a kind. These were rewards for her successful journeys in the past, long before she was forced to step down from the position of Captain. Had it not been for Bart's rescuing her, she wouldn't be on the seas again. The oh so infamous Ochroid Mistress had a high price on her head.

While she made way to the Scumm Bar, a tired head of a gargoyle gecko poked from behind her neck. The little, golden scaled creature had been napping happily in her dark hair, but the sound of cackling pirates grew louder, waking him. "G'mornin' to ye, Sunshine," Jillian quietly greeted her companion. Unlike parrots, Sunny was a quiet shoulder pet. He might seem meek, but on more than one occasion, he has helped Jillian out of trouble.

A hand pat at the golden handgun she carried in a holster; she might need it soon. This was another one of her prized possessions: The Ochroid Gun. Even this valuable item could make a man wealthier beyond his wildest dreams. It was much too pretty to be sold, though. Plus, she actually used it!

The door slammed open, her unhappy gaze shifting back and forth in search of Bartholomew. There he was, sipping from drinks, with a woman! A woman who seemed to want... Something specific from him. With an annoyed sigh, she loudly shut the door, her tall boots clunking against the floor as she walked towards the back of her Captain.

One of her gloved fingers tapped at his shoulder, her ruby red lips twisting into a sarcastic smile. Sunshine was snickering, his tail coiling around the back of Jillian's neck as he rested his head over his arms. This gecko did not like Bartholomew, so watching his beloved owner get feisty with him was even more entertaining. Jillian simply being here was risky enough as is, so she was trying to keep her cool to not attract more attention. She already could over hear whispers about her, because there wasn't any other pirate with her image.

"Makin' new friends, Captain?"
Bartholomew blatantly stared at those ample breasts straining against the thin linen fabric of the she-devil of a pirate standing in front of him. The woman was being far more forward than any other he had met on the seas. She had literally told him exactly what she wanted from him: sex. Now.

He gulped heavily, and audibly, and with a shaky hand brought the mug of grog to his lips to delay his answer even for a moment. While he wanted to be drug off to a corner and have wild, reckless 'plunderin'', as she had so eloquently put it, he had a number of other responsibilities and loyalties to be thinking of.

Which was karmically reminded to him by the tapping on his shoulder.

"Makin' new friends, Captain?"

The voice was familiar, and actually just heard not a week before. Jillian, long time companion of many adventures and endeavours and, ah, 'plunderin'', stood behind him in her all-imposing form. While exuding feminine beauty and a divine sexual presence, she was also a woman that gave off a very visible 'touch at your own peril' vibe.

Which was one of the reasons Bartholomew had even looked her way.

He recalled then why she was even on Melee Island-- to procure them a boat. And supplies! They had arrived separately, because their previous boat had been destroyed and sunk. Bartholomew had told Jillian about his next quest to find Monkey Island, and to meet him at Melee while he procured them a boat elsewhere in the Caribbean.

He, uh, hadn't. And had barely procured passage himself, to meet her. Hopefully, she'd have found something! Truth be told, Bartholomew wasn't a very good Captain. Courageous? Yes. Charismatic? Sort-of. Dashing? A little. Smart? No. Clever? Not at all.

"Ah, J-Jillian!" He said, trying to hide his nervousness. "Th-this is Piper, a, ah, possible new crew-member! She, uh, has valuable assets to offer us." He winced, yet grinned, at his choice of words. Assets indeed!