Pirates Return IC

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Saimon followed the Captain and the others back to the cave. He felt unusefull and maybe a bit unwanted. He looked around after a face he could relate too, not in the terms of knowing anyone, which he was quite sure that he didn't, but rather someone likewise...
*Ugh* his face twisted in a grim expression, at the time he had almost forgot his broken arm, - almost.

 

Matty was very glad when Jacques found her. Thinking about the music-box was a welcome relief from jumping at the things that lurked behind every shadow - and there were many, many shadows in the cave, all of them oddly shaped and dancing in the torchlight.

"It's a very old tune," she said, after listening to it several time. "There are quite a few variations, but they're all your basic 'boy meets girl, then goes off to earn his fortune, only to come home and find girl married to someone else and they all die miserably' stuff. I'm not sure how it relates to any hidden treasure-trove."

She handed the globe back and they continued slowly picking their way down the tunnel. THe tune was still in her mind, and even Leftenant Cornwallis began humming snatches of it.

"How do you know that song? I figured you more for the battle-hymn or dance type, not old ballads."

"I really shouldn't say." He was embarrassed to have been caught.

"Oh go on, who's going to know other than the four of us?"

"Well, I belongs to a...a club, if you will, a club for Naval officers of a certain... position. It's a terribly exclusive group, I'm afraid, and very few people even know it exists. I'm a member because m- well, that part I really can't say, and doesn't matter any how. But we have a song, as every proper club does, and that's the tune."

"Ye be a Wavemaster?" Old Solomon eyed the younger man with suspicion. "Captain Ayer started that little club, y'know. I wouldna made ye fer one o' his ilk."

"Ayer started the club, and used the tune of this hidden music box for its anthem?" Jacques asked excitedly. "I'll bet my second-best knife that he buried a clue in the words. Quick man, sing it for us!"

 

Ricardo cursed as he stumbled into the garden; he had taken too long with Avery, the Red Hands were already descending upon them… he could hear Abbot bellowing a retreat to the cave, Alexa calling out about explosives….

He knew he could not make it; he was too far from the cave; he would never reach the cave before the Red Hands did, even if he weren’t shot…

He could see Alexa, fixing the explosives; She looked up and their eyes met; even across the distance her hesitation seemed crystal clear to him.

Ricardo could hear Abbot bellowing, telling her to detonate the charges, to collapse the cave… to make sure that they would get away safely.

“they” including Alexa and Daniel.

“Do it,” he whispered hoarsely, knowing that she would not be able to hear him. “For the love of God… do it!”

She turned away, dashing deeper into the cave; within moments a thunderous explosion roared across the garden. Ricardo used the Red Hands’ confusion o his advantage, dashing into the house; he knew he had to find the governor, and find him fast.

The man was surprisingly easy to find; instead of attempting to hide, or flee, the man was in his study, feverishly gulping down expensive brandy. He wept and gibbered, as he did so, his wig askew and revealing his balding pate.

The governor did not hear Ricardo approach; thus, when the Spaniard kicked his chair over, he screamed shrilly.

Ricardo smirked coldly as the man scrambled to his knees, his eyes wide, an expression of utter panic on his face. He ignored the governor’s pleas, because he did not intend to kill the man. Not yet, at least.

“Your whore is dead,” he told the man curtly. “And unless you tell me everything about your dealing with the Red Hands, so will be you.”

The man’s face fell even more, something Ricardo had not thought possible. “Yes, yes, of course sir, everything….”

B the time the study door was smashed open and a small band of Red Hands barged in, Ricardo was leaning back in the governor’s chair, leafing through Avery’s letters. He looked up, meeting the bewildered eyes of the big brute that appeared to be of some seniority to his fellows.

”Finally. Take me to leBihan.”

The Spaniard’s commanding presence and obvious confidence made the men hesitate; they had expected to find the weaselly governor, their orders to bring the man and his wife to the captain unharmed for ransom, but they had not expected this.

”Who be ye?” the big man, Stocks, demanded. “Where be the guv’nor?”
Ricardo gestured at the crumpled heap on the floor, near the fireplace. “I believe Governor Blackwell had too much to drink. He should, however be brought along; I am quite sure your Captain wishes to discuss certain matters with him.”

“But who the devil are ye?” Stocks demanded.

The Spaniard’s eyes flashed darkly. “Do not question me,” he said coldly. “I am known to your captain. That is all you need to know.”

Ricardo’s expression was grim as the Red Hands eventually obeyed him, leading the way out of the mansion towards the harbour. The Governor was being dragged along, still unconscious and slung over the big brute’s shoulder.

He knew that facing leBihan in such a situation was something that he had never wished to do; something out of the deepest, darkest pits of nighttime horrors, but Ricardo knew there was no other choice. He would have to keep LeBihan’s attention away from the escapees… from Alexa and Daniel… long enough for them to get away.

He had no idea where the cave would lead them, if it would prove out to be a tomb rather than salvation… he could only party that it would lead them to safety, away… but knowing Alexa, they would make their way to the Pale horse, somehow; she was so fiercely loyal… she would stand by Abbot, and no Captain would ever leave his ship.

How loyal? he found himself asking as he ascended the gangplank to LeBihan’s flagship. Will she again betray you?

“Never,” he found himself hissing, gaining strange looks from the Red Hands before he restrained himself. The past was just that, the past. She would never betray him again!

His thought cleared as a Red Hand knocked on the door of the great cabin, and a chillingly familiar voice called out. Ricardo suppressed the deep shiver that threatened to go through him, his expression becoming a mask of neutrality as LeBihan came to the deck.

”Good evening, Captain,” he said, no hint of forcedness in his casual tone as he met the Frenchman’s surprised eyes. “We meet again.”
.

[ September 28, 2005, 01:48: Message edited by: Arabwel ]

 

The last thing Leftenant Cornwallis wanted to do was sing, especially that most private of songs, but then he caught sight of Matty's skeptical expression. This girl was so different from every other girl he'd ever met, unimpressed by brass buttons and braided epaulets... maybe this was the key to cracking her sardonic shell.

He cleared his throat and sang, in a thin but passable tenor.

Wavemaster, brave and bold
Through thy deeds shall be told
The sea’s story.
Myst’ries of wind and tide!
Strange beasts that deep abide!
The long-lost shore from crow’s nest spied!
Your reward shall be.

Heed well the Siren’s song
Tarry not ever long
For she calls to thee.
Safe passage can be found
Through dangers all around
With crimson splendor is she crowned
Where she waits for thee.

Wavemaster, lift thy chain
Set forth a-sail again
And pursue glory.
Convention be defied
By men of spirits wide
Let never random chance decide
What your fate shall be!

(OOC - it's to the tune of "God Save The Queen", if that helps. )

 

The Pale Horse was being steered gently away. As Alistair lay in the cargo hold quietly, gun in hand, he wondered how exactly it went wrong.

After going to the party, and having a long, private discussion with a navy officer, he returned to the ship with the knowledge of his prey's location. He'd never liked parties, anyway - bloody waste of time...and as he was lying on his hammock in that state between awakeness and blissful sleep, there came shouting, from crewmembers that had stayed onboard. And then there were gunshots.

Surviving this long did give Alistair some skills beyond that of smoking cigars: immediately he leapt up, seized his equipment and dashed for the cargo hold. Footsteps came overhead, and he hid behind some convenient barrels.

That had been a while ago. Now the ship is being gently carried away by the breeze. Alistair sat next to the entrance, thinking. Normally he would just blow the whole ship to smithreens, but unfortunatly the private discussions brought out new variables.

The door opened and footsteps approached - just one, from what he can hear. Alistair flicked out a knife, and waited. Sure enough, soon the man came from above, and Alistair crept behind him, putting his hand over his mouth and his knife to his neck. He quietly directed the man next to the wall.
"Who are you?" Alistair asked, shining the knife in his face.
"LeBihan's..."
"Who's leading?"
"First Mate..."
"Blind Berrik?"
A nod. Blind Berrik had a modest bounty, somewhat lower than that of LeBihan's. Of course he wasn't really blind, he just have a scar across his face that would have nearly taken out his eyes.
"How many of you are there, here?"
"Fifteen..."

Alistair nodded, held the man's mouth, and slashed the knife across his neck. He slumped down quietly and was soon stabbed again, repeatedly, just to make sure.

"Fourteen now." Alistair muttered, as he sat down next to the corpse and pondered his next move.

 

Standing at the helm, Blind Berrik looked upon the deck of the Pale Horse with glee. Mayhap the Captain would give the ship to him, he mused, after all, he had served LeBihan for years with unfailing loyalty.

The original crew of the ship was locked tight in the brig; by LeBihan’s orders, Berrik had not taken any chances. He brushed a lock of dirty blonde hair from his face; his scar was itching. He knew it bode well; it always itched before something good happened.

His attention was drawn towards the Frenchman’s flagship; apparently the raiding party sent to the governor’s mansion had come back. The Captain was on deck, talking to someone…. In the darkness it was hard to see, especially from distance, but the man appeared to be a noble Spaniard.

Berrik chuckled. He hadn’t expected LeBihan dealing with the Spaniards, not after that little bastard who’d given ‘im so much trouble.

 

Alistair appeared from the Cargo Hold, donned in the clothes of the Red Hand. He had left his jacket and musket safely tucked away, while the corpse itself was pushed overboard.

From his walks around the ship - carefully avoiding people where possible - he'd been able to note that the crew were locked away. There weren't many of them anyway, maybe four or five people. Most were on shore, spending time in brothels and so on. Others had been shot.

As he strolled on deck, he noted the presense of Blind Berrik, and made a mental note to take his finely decorated gun as a trophy later. Looking out to see, he could see LeBihan's flagship. From the conversation he's picked up, it seems like Ricardo was caught.

There wasn't much he could do now, he thought as he returned downstairs. He could kill all the Red Hands without too much trouble, but that would surely alert LeBihan, and he had no sailing knowledge. Even if one of the Red Hands could, or perhaps one of the crew knew, he wasn't about to take the risk. Sighing, he strolled back to the cargo hold, and was quite surprised to find a Red Hand there. The happy encounter was cut short when Alistair stabbed the man through the chest with a sword.

Thirteen, he thought silently, as he hid the body and donned his jacket again. Not much he could do now. Maybe if he was lucky, he could get Ricardo out.

The thought of the man made him think. He had mentioned Ricardo to the navy officer. And there were some interesting things discussed.

 

Saimon could feel the tears press on behind the eye-lits, but not for all the money in the world would he lower himself to crying, - especially infront of this lot. "(Yes, yes.. I will, I will)".

I feel thy pulling
The salvation thou bringest
thou art what lures within!.

"Remove focus, yes, remove focus", he mumbled.
Despite his efforts the pain remained immense. He swallowed some spit, and gathered himself. With heavy steps he walked toward Abbot "Excuse me sir, but I think my arm broke or twisted from the fall, does any of your crewmembers master healing skills? I will need to get it looked at if I am to be of any help futher on".

 

Alexa turned around when she heard someone ask if there were any with healing skills among the crew.

"Lad, I believe that I am what you are looking for." Her eyes sparkled slightly in amusement, as she stepped forward to take a look at the arm.

She examined his arm closely. "I'm afraid it is broken. She looked up with a sympathetic expression. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt, lad."

Her hands moved suddenly, moving the arm in such a way to reset the bone.

 

Daniel was sleeping on a warm sandy beach. Out in the ocean a siren was singing a song of the ocean's secrets, hidden in a dangerous place that only the brave would dare to go. He was being gently rocked by the waves, when suddenly they stopped.

"What's the hold up there? We've got to get out of this tunnel, it's giving me the creeps!" a familar voice called to someone ahead.

Daniel opened his eyes. Doctors Arthur and Jensen were still carrying him, but they had stopped moving forward. In the candle and lantern lit passage he could see a small group of people bunched up in a crowd.

"The tunnel ends here," Fat Willy said. "But it's a bricked up wall. Give me that musket there," he said to a footman. He took it and opened the pan and blew the primer charge out, then uncocked it. "Just want to make sure we don't have an accidental discharge," he explained. Then he took the musket and started ramming it into the brick wall, putting his considerable weight into it as well. Before long a hole that was even big enough for Fat Willy to pass through had been smashed open.

He took a lantern and put it through the hole, looking into the space beyond. "It looks like it's a tavern's storeroom, quiet everyone," he hushed. He listened intently, and when the echoes had died down the faint tones of a harpsichord could be heard coming from above. "We're in the basement of 'The Frisky Kitten'. It's a nice little whore house not far from the docks. If Jalia's at the bar, we're in luck, she owes me for a thing or two, if Jack or Ursula's at the bar, we might have to make a run for it again. Maybe it'd be better if somebody else went up alone, or just in a pair, to check things out up there, it could be full of Red Hands."

He pulled his upper torso back into the cave tunnel and leaned against the wall. After giving the musket back to the footman he took out a large handkerchief and wiped off the sweat that was dripping profusely from his huge face.

 

Alexa ran her professional hands examinating down the arm of Saimon. The pain was immense, and despite his efforts, Saimon couldn't hold the tears back. He lowered his head in shame, and hoped this would soon be over.

With arm in sling, Saimon hasted as far away as he could get from Alexa. ”how embarrassing! How would he ever win respect the these peoples, when crying over a small thing like a broken arm?”. It was funny. Back home he'd been beaten numerous times without ever bothering. Why would this differ from what he'd elsehow experienced. Saimon sighed, and felt more alone than ever.

”Remember Heros, and the the pain he had endured, when Êo banished him from the sacred lands!” Oh had the world trembled beneath his almighty gaze, during Aröniia êt Nihil – the first years.
”Yes! I do remember. And so will they tremble beneath mine!”. ”You are what fills the void, the deepest darkness of my immortal soul!” Saimon said loudly to himself.

”There's no need for me here”, Saimon mumbled, ”I'll just go search a wee deeper into the cave, the darkness fascinated him”...
The father Saimon got from the group, the harder he had to focus. The darkness was so thick, you could almost slice it with a sharp blade.
Saimon had to lean against the wall in order to navigate. ”Yes, you're right. I better go back, the group most surely be on the move by now”. Heading toward what he thought to be the road he'd come by, Saimon clumsily began walking.
After a couple of minutes or so, a bright light suddenly blinded him, and he heard the sound of harsh voices...
”The Cap'n tol' us tis would be a side entrance to teh cave they'd run for, but yet do I see anything but col' rock an' endless darkness? I be... - Wait! What do we have here? Quickly ye' searats, 'tis most be one o' 'im Three Swords men!”. Before Saimon could react, a large man grabbed Saimon by the neck, and lifted him up so he was face to face with his captor.
”He he he .... Now ye' little dog, - now you lead us to ye' dogpack!”.
Saimon gulped. What could he do now?

 

In the blackness Three Swords lifted a torch from it's bracket and pulled out his pistol. Swiftly, he knocked the muzzle against the stone wall and shook the pistol ball free. Cocking it, held the pan to the torch and fired. The powder sparked and it's immense sound was amplified tenfold by the confines of the tunnel. It did, however, give off a spark large enough to ignite the torch. Three Swords blinked as the tunnel suddenly came to light.

"Quickly, we have to catch up to the others." Abbot said as he started to move through the tunnel as fast as the narrow space would allow.


"We meet again." LeBihan said as he watched Ricardo being brought before him. His leg lashed out cracking into Ricardo's groin and sending him down rolling across the deck. LeBihan kicked him again, in the ribs this time. There was an audible crack as one of the ribs went. Ricardo screamed with pain and LeBihan smiled. "It's so nice to hear your voice again, bilge dog." His face straightened as he turned to a crew member. "Take him to my cabin. I want to make him suffer before I kill him."

LeBihan walked toward the bridge, sweeping his eyes across the town. Much of the dock had been ruined, buildings collapsed and burning and the defensive cannon was simply too undermanned now to make any real effect. The gunnery from the walls were picking up again though as the navy looters started to attempt to see off the Red Hands for the simple reason that they would get more loot this way.

LeBihan had not anticipated that and had sent a lot of his men up the hill to the governor's mansion and it was entirely possible for him to become outnumbered and outgunned very quickly now. "Weigh anchor!" he shouted, "We've got enough for one day!" LeBihan listened to the sound of the anchor being hauled aboard as he watched the Pale Horse sail into the distance. He had the ship he had wanted from the start now and he smiled as he opened the door to his cabin.

[ October 04, 2005, 12:06: Message edited by: The Kilted Crusader ]

 

As the men who’d tied him up in the cabin left, Ricardo let out a hiss of relief. His shoulder was screaming, now that his hands were tied above his head, even more than his lower regions.. not to mention his bruised ribs. He was thankful he had not cracked a rib; but LeBihan would believe otherwise, now that the binder around the letters had made such a brutal sound-

That had not gone like he’d expected; LeBihan had become even more brutal in the past years.,… or was possibly still furious about the fate of his ship. It had been folly to assume that he could have.. persuaded the Frenchman in a civil manner.

Ricardo knew there was very little chance he could get out of this alive; but the longer he could keep LeBihan entertained, the longer the man spent on him instead of chasing Abbot.. the longer Alexa had to get away with Daniel.

There was a very slim hope of him convincing LeBihan that he could be of use – as more than just a toy. He knew what LeBihan had never gotten from him, no matter how hard he had tried… he could offer that now. But it would not be enough…

The door of the cabin opened and LeBihan stepped in.

 

"I've waited a long, long time to get caught up with you, bilge dog." He walked toward Santiago slowly. His fist crashed into Ricardo's jaw, the force of it sent Ricardo rocking on his ropes. LeBihan flexed his fingers and pulled on a set of leather gloves that were tucked into his belt. The frenchman hammered three fast, successive punches into Ricardo's body. "How does that feel on your rib?" LeBihan smiled at the bloody Ricardo. LeBihan grabbed Ricardo's shoulder and squeezed.

Three Swords was forced to turn sideways as the tunnel became narrower, but he could hear whispered voices up ahead and he picked up the pace. He could see lantern light and he could hear the elegant voices of the nobles. He sighed as he stepped through the fallen wall. "Well done." Three Swords said to no-one in particular. "Have we lost anyone?" Three Swords asked, looking at the myriad of faces.

"No-one." one of the nobles said, "Let's just get out of here before they findout where the tunnel leads.

"No." Three Swords said checking each face again, "we're missing the native. He came into the cave with me and Alexa." Abbot turned to look into the tunnel, "The bugger's gone and gotten himself lost." he said, gritting his teeth, "Damn him. He has one minute to find us and then we leave."

 

Red-hot pain flashed across Ricardo’s vision, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Sagging against his binds, he lowered his head, almost choking on his words as he spoke. “You… you will regret it if you kill me.”

LeBihan’s answer was to backhand him across the face. “And why would that be, puto?”

Ricardo gritted his teeth, the insult scorching his already wounded pride. “I can… be of use.”

He should not have said that:; all it achieved was a derisive laugh and another punch to his midsection that sent flares of pain through him. He gasped, forcing the words out. “Kill me and you will… never become a Windmaster.”

His words had the desired effect; relief flooded through Ricardo as the Frenchman took a step back, his expression darkening. “What would you know of the Windmasters?”

Ricardo bit back a smile, as he raised his head, looking LeBihan in the eyes. “Marius was a Windmaster. If not of his… unfortunate demise, he would have been the next Grandmaster.”

The Spaniard’s eyes held LeBihan’s; he hoped that wherever Marius was, he’d forgive this one last betrayal… for Ricardo swore that LeBihan would never live long enough to benefit from it.

 

"How would you know, Marius?" LeBihan asked, "I was under the impression that you were nowhere near the carribean whilst his career lasted."

"I... went by the name of... Reeves at the time." Santiago said through his bloody mouth. His body hurt all over and he feared unconsciousness would claim him soon if LeBihan continued his pummeling.

"I see," LeBihan said, "So how can I join the Windmasters?"

 

Ricardo swallowed hard. “You… must solve the riddle. There is.. no other way.”

He closed his eyes, and began to recite the words Marius had taught him all those years ago. “Windmaster, brave and bold…”

 

LeBihan grunted, "There is another way. You can solve for me." LeBihan drew his sword and sliced the ropes holding Santiago. Immediately the spaniard fell to the floor with a resounding thump. LeBihan leaned down and grabbed by his injured shoulder, causing Santiago to hiss with pain. "And I have just the incentive to make sure you figure it out quickly." LeBihan dragged Ricardo across the cabin floor and kicked open the door. The frenchman hauled Ricardo to his feet.

"See all those crewmen out there." LeBihan whispered in his ear, indicating all the men on deck "I'm going to give you to them whilst you find the answer to the riddles. Now maybe they'll just beat on you a bit, make you hurt - make you bleed - but you see, they've also been at sea a long time, and you're the best looking piece of meat they've seen in a while. I'll take you away from them as soon as you work out the riddle." Then LeBihan threw Ricardo's hapless body onto the main deck.

 

Ricardo could hear LeBihan calling out to his men, but could not make out the words; his head rang from hitting the deck, a wave of nausea washing through his body.

Rough hands dragged him to his knees by his hair; he hissed with pain and fury, struggling against the rope that bound his wrists. LeBihan would pay for this!

The same chilling efficiency that served him well in duels fell upon him; when harsh hands tore at him, when waves of agony washed over his body, his mind was .. elsewhere. In the days of his youth, the days of carefree adventure and ruthless plundering that was the life on the Devastation.

He could hear Marius’ lilting voice reciting the verses to him, time after time… the wind in his hair as he stood at the bow of the Devastation, the taste of salt on his lips as he listened to his Captain’s words…. The sound of the wind’s haunting howl…. Memories long-forgotten began to surface, of things overheard in the deep of the night and forgotten in the morning’s light.. of things Marius had so painstakingly tried to teach him…

He knew what LeBihan wanted now. He knew how to lead him to the Siren’s Rock, where the next piece of the riddle would await.

When the sailors tossed him at the Frenchman’s feet again, he raised his head defiantly to meet LeBihan’s cruel grin.

“I can solve the riddle,” he whispered hoarsely before he passed out.

 

"Where ARE they?", the the man hissed as he threw Saimon to the floor. Saimon landed on his broken arm, and emidiate pain ran through his entire body.
"(Cannot betray them!?! This man will surely kill if I don't!)". "What did you say?", the crude man asked Saimon. "No-nothing, *ugh*, I just, I mean, they're...
Follow me". With a dagger in his back, Saimon gulped and lead the men back through the tunnels.
After a couple of minutes they heard voices. "Un-light that torch", the man ordered. Slowly the sound of voices became stronger, nearer.