Pirates of the Sorcerean II

Remove all ads!

Abell flinched as the whip came down on the man in front of her's bare back, leaving a red mark much like those she had over her body. It had been much like that for the last hour or so as all the prisoners were led towards the harbour for deportation, to be sent to one of the new colonies as 'indentured servants'. Abell tried to distract herself from the thought by taking in the disaproving glares from passing civilians, but all that served to do was make her aware of her criminal status.

Vainly she tried to slip out of the shackles bound about her wrists, earning her another lash of the whip, much as it had the other times she'd tried. The soldiers had assured her that any trying to escape when on the ship would be punished even harsher. She couldn't see why, after all, what was the point in trying to escape from a ship? You'd only fall over the edge and drown, not much point, really.

There were the ships now, in plain view after they made it past the many harbour-front brothels and taverns. The soldiers marched the chained up line of criminals through the crowd and up the gangplank to the prison ship, where they were each crowded into cells, as they would stay for at least a month of sailing.

[ooc: Make of this introduction what you will. Please - no magic. Arrr!]

 

Pierre Cedain LeVarde sat comfortably in the Mermaid's Rest, drinking the finest wine (which is grog) available in the tavern, while sitting alone in a near-the-corner table. People seemed to avoid him, perhaps because of the long captain's overcoat he's wearing. Such coats were in fashion amongst many a navy captain.

Pierre didn't mind. He enjoyed being alone most of the time, except at of course such places as brothels. In fact, he was feeling rather happy because he had just done quite a good job on a recent escapede that won him several hundred pounds. And if he's lucky, he may even get rid of the bugger to the ship Black Wind. Pierre never liked him much.

He drank and plotted.

[OOC: His captain's overcoat would look something like this http://www.medieval-weaponry.com/media/mrl9741.jpg or this http://www.medieval-weaponry.com/media/mrl8274.jpg ,except blue, a bit longer (around knee-height), and presumedly dirtier.

Incidentally, the pound does not relate to England's pound, it just sounds funky and is the decided currency unit between Aik and I.]

 

OoC: is this a completely new RP, or is it a continuation of the last?

 

Into the wonderful inn of the Mermaid's Rest came a man with a rather scoundrelish look to him. A hat, pony tail and a scar down his cheek made him appear all the more menacing as there could be little doubt to whether or not he had seen action at sea. His hair was raven black, as appear his eyes under heavy brows. Being tall with the face of a hawk, broad shoulders he set his hands at his side, slightly revealing the cutlass at his side. With a scrutinizing look around the inn, his eyes fastened on Pierre, there could be no doubt, this had to be Pierre.

Just the man I need..

Walking to the bar, he ordered a pint and continued toward the table where Pierre was. Finding a small pouch he weighed it in his hand before sitting down in front of the ex-navy officer.
"G'evening sir, I hear ye used to be in the navy, aye? If so, I have a proposition for ye.."

(completely new, has nothign to do with the previous one)

 

Pierre glanced up at the man, not sure what to take from him. Probably just another client. He loaded his blunderbuss idly. "Possibly. Who's asking?"

 

Wandering idly down the centre of the street, a well dressed and well kept man casually twirled an ebon black cane. He was dressed in a long red jacket, finely cut with gold trimmings, black trousers, thigh high riding boots and a black waist coat over a white shirt, topping it all off with a curled white wig. The clothes were rather too big for his skinny frame, but he held himself in them well. At his side was a gold hilted sabre, the hilt in the shape of a lion’s head.

Behind him in simple black servants garments, walked a tall, young, blonde man, carrying a reasonably small trunk over one shoulder, and a his other hand on his cutlass. Tucked in his belt was a long pistol.

The red coated man, suddenly stopped, his servant halting behind him and looked around warily. “A-ha!” said the richly clothed man, stopping his canes spin and pointing it at the sign of an inn named ‘The Mermaid’s Rest’

“This is the establishment we seek. Gabriel, pick up your feet and let us enter!”

The man strode forward confidently, rapping a man by the doorway on the head with the top of the cane “Out of my way jonny foreigner!” and swung the door open.

 

Jacques poked his head out from among the sacks of cheap goods in the hold of the Bilge Rat. The coast looked clear - a captain who'd call his ship the "Bilge Rat" may well have a sense of humour, but there was no guarantee he'd keep it when confronted with a stowaway, and a deserter at that. He slipped out into the water and swam to shore...going down the gangplank would be suicide.

So this was freedom, thought Jacques as he walked down the dock - he'd heard a man could make his fortune signing on with the pirates who operated here. Certainly, from where he stood any way would be up....all he had to his name was his old uniform and a worn overcoat he'd managed to steal to keep it covered. Suddenly he heard the marching feet of the prisoner escort. The soldiers would recognise him for sure...without thinking he ducked into the door of the tavern he was passing at the time - the Bubbling Mermaid.

 

Below decks of the prison ship was about the most unpleasant place that Abell could have imagined. Walking through the single hallway which led from end to end of the ship, all she could see was illuminated by only the slivers of cracks and holes in the wooden side of the hull.

What she could see was worse than the prison she'd spent a brief time in, though the cells looked slightly larger. Not that it was for luxury, the cells she passed were far overfilled with men. At least in the prison cells they'd had a stone slab to act as a bed, but it seemed that there was nothing in the way of furnature here.

The smell, however, was far worse than the living quarters, though Abell couldn't quite place a single putrid thing that it belonged to. Unwashed and sweaty was certainly there.

One of the soldier's came up to her as they neared the end of the corridor. He used an iron key to unlock the shackles around her arms and feet.
"Alright wench, this cell's for you."
Using the same key he unlocked the cell door beside him and pulled her in, then shut it behind her.

This was obviously a cell for the women prisoners, for which Abell was very grateful, judging by the look of the many male prisoners. She walked to an empty space between two fellow cellmates and leant against the wall there, watching as another was shoved in through the door.

 

Lamira gasped softly as she was unceremoniously shoved into the cell by one of the sailors that had brought her aboard the accursed ship she was sentenced to serve on. She stepped deeper into the cell, looking around at its inhabitants, thanking the stars that it was only women. At least for right now, it was only women. But, getting raped by other male prisoners was the least of her concerns.

She looked over her shoulder, burning a whole in the sailor's chest who escorted her here. She almost threw up in revulsion at the way he looked at her, violating her body with his lust-filled eyes. Lamira remembered when he hand picked her out of the group of prisoners, personally shackling her wrists and ankles with a sadistic glee in his eyes. She prayed she had seen the very last of him.

The sailor guffawed loudly as he noticed Lamira staring at him and he said to her, "Don't worry, sweetness. I'll be back for you soon..."

Lamira scoffed as she walked deeper into the cell, plopping down on the hard, wooden floor, refusing to waste another second on the stupid pirate. Then, she realized that she was the stupid one, or else she wouldn't have gotten herself caught up in this predicament. She should've been more careful, she shouldn't have tried to pull off that job!

She smirked painfully to herself, turning her wrists a bit inside of her shackles. "Too late for regrets now, girl," she told herself as she leaned her head against the cold, unforgiving iron of her cell, closed her eyes, and waited.

 

The man in front of Pierre took his hat and put it on the table, then he threw the purse gently onto they table with a clittering sound, which obviously was from some sort of coinage.

He smiled, revealing fair teeth despite his immediate appearance and demeanor.
"Name's William, and I need some first hand information on a specific type of ship.. a prison ship to be more exact. Would you be interested? This of course, might mean walking the plank for your previous friends of arms if caught."

William smirks and tilts his head a bit, looking scrutinizing at Pierre.
"I've heard about your works.. Pierre Cedain LeVarde, no mistake.. And it is exactly why I need your assistance, expertise such as yours is hard to find these days. Wouldn't you agree?"

Raising a questioning eyebrow, he sends a wolfish smile at Pierre.
"After all, you have to do something spectacular if the world is to remember your name.."

 

Pierre glanced at William slowly, still quite unsure what to make of him. He took the purse and weighed it in his hands, and then opened it to check that it is, in fact, coin.

He leaned forward a bit, coming face to face withi William, which would probably prove to be rather unplesant for him because of the grog he has been drinking.

"I suppose we have a deal, Mr. William. What ship is it exactly?"

 

The last of the prisoners bound for that deck were placed into their cages, though others were bound for deeper in the ship, and not a word had been spoken in the cell in which Abell stood. There was plenty of noise around them however, already there'd been at least one fight, and the men seemed convinced that shouting abuse to the soldiers would help their predicament, and thus did so with much vigour.

After a while, when the soldiers who had headed for the decks below came up again and passed up above, probably to help with what else needed doing to get the ship ready for the long voyage. Four soldiers were left on their deck, but they stood huddled at the end, out of sight of most of the prisoners.

Abell slid down the wall, aiming for the floor and landing gracefully upon it, adding a sincere touch of desperation to her face as she did so. She tilted her head and stared at the ceiling, running a prayer through her head. For all the commandments she'd broken, she still held some hope for divine intervention to her plight.

And yet none seemed forthcoming.

 

Jacques hurried away from the doorway, trying to find a shady corner to hide in. Noticing a number of hostile stares in his direction, he realised his coat had come open, revealing his uniform. As he struggled to refasten it, he caught sight of Pierre's captains coat and panicked, stumbling back and tripping over a stool with a crash. All in all, not a good start.

 

William leans closer with a grim smile. Staring Pierre into the eye.
"There is a certain lassie, on a certain ship where she does not belong. It is my intention to free her and hit the seas, perhaps even seek my vengeance upon those that put her there in the first place. But that can wait.."

He leans back and studies Pierre's expression.
"You might think a woman isn't worth nothing, not many do. But for those who know otherwise, they can see she's a bird that should not be caged. Her feathers are simply too bright. I shall pay for your services of course, and a little battle with our dear naval friends is never out of the way, is it?"

[ July 03, 2004, 12:55: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

Gabriel nodded the red coated man in the direction of Pierre and William, and whispered in hs masters ear "Talk to them, one owns a ship, his name his Pierre, find out which one he is. I have just seen an old friend of mine." Gabriel immediately straightened, and the Red Coated man turned and slid into a seat at the table with an easy smile "Good day good gentlemen. My name is Louen."

Gabriel turned to the stumbling Jacques and spun him round to face him, "Jasperre le Beau!" He exclaimed in a whisper so low not even the people at the next table heard, even so Gabriel looked around warily just in case.

"Quiet you oaf," he said, "and come upstairs and change. I can't let one of my old crew escape from the law and get caught in the same day can I?" he smiled a white toothed, full set of teeth and thrust the trunk into his arms.

 

Jacques staggered under the weight of the trunk. "Mon capitan?" he gasped, "Bless your soul sir, bless your soul....I had no idea when I would be able to ditch this wretched uniform"

 

Zillah sat in a corner of the Mermaid's Rest, seemingly paying attention to nothing other than her fiddle. Her short but shaggy hair and waifish figure were quite at odds with the buxom serving wenches who tossed their long locks at the sex-starved sailors, and her boy's garb did nothing to reveal her gender. While she never missed a beat of the song she played, she still paid close attention to the progress of every conversation that dealt with anything more substantial than drinking, gambling, and f***ing.

 

Louen smiled as he talked "Which of you gentlemen is Pierre? That matters little, what is important is my interest in your ship. Or rather my master's interest." he indicated Gabriel, who they had taken to be his servant "His name is Jasperre le Beau - but keep it secret!" he whispered harshly, tapping the side of his nose, "and only call him Gabriel. So Pierre, what will it be?"

 

Pierre rolled his eyes and said "Excuse me a moment" to William, then turned to the new man.

"You seek my ship?" Pierre said quietly. "Well, the fact remains that my ship - which wasn't really mine, but anyway - recently got blown to Davy John's locker by the Black Wind. I'm thinking of getting rid of him. But no. I don't have a ship at the moment."

Pierre leaned back and started talking to William again. "As you have heard, I don't have a ship. This may make things slightly complicated, unless the ship happens to be in dock...but anyway, I'm willing to rescue this woman." he stopped to drink his grog, before declaring heartily "No fair maiden should be locked in a cell!"

[ July 03, 2004, 13:10: Message edited by: Deathmage ]

 

William glances a bit to the disturbing gentleman, before rising up. Taking off his hat in a greeting gesture to Pierre, he pushes the chair back to the table.
"I'll meet you at dawn tomorrow then.. by the fair maiden Filippa. I'll introduce you to some of the others."

With that he went to the bar, downing his ale, then heading out of the inn without another word.