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by **NewArthur** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 2:45 am

Markus waited standing on tender hooks, he watched as the noose was placed round the neck of the prisoner, he watched the Hangman step back, towards the lever, MArkus let his throwing knife slid into a throwing postion, he tensed ready to throw, then the wierdest thing happenned, the hangman threw off his balck cloak and hood, it was a old shipmate Raff, a Irish rebel.

MArkus looked left and right giveing a nod in both directions, and started heading back out of the crowd, a few other cloaked figures followed. It seemed like he had to make the docks. Then musket fire erupted, it seemed the red coats had fired at the escapeing fugatives.

Markus wheeled around and looked through the crowd of people running in all directions looking for James and Raff, he saw them heading off in diffrent directions. He knew Raff could handle himself but james had been locked up for a long time and was proberly weak from nalnurishment, and he head in that direction, pulling a silver object from his pocket, and slipped it into his mouth it was a silver tongue, over the noise of screams and shouts and gun fire, he shouted

"Make the port lads, I have business to attend to" Markus called to the two cloaked figures not that far off him, he then with all the speed he could muster with a peg leg, limped off down the street james had taken.

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by **SpringTimeFox** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 5:15 am

Sheltie smiled giddily, reaching under her coat and behind her to pull out a ridiculously small flask of what must have been something good, by the look on her face. She presented this dark-colored flask to James, a knowing smile on her lips. "I been savin' it," she said proudly. "They told me ye liked yer rum." Holding the flask of rum out towards the man, she peered past his shoulders, sure the red coats would be around the corner any minute, their muskets coughing up poorly-aimed bullets. None came, but the shouts sounded closer, and angry.

She needed little persuasion to get going, and at James' word she nodded, turning and leading the way, for the most part, through the maze of streets. Caesar, one of the more experienced members of the crew, was waiting with their diversion ahead. Sheltie glanced around her, trying for the life of her to remember what unmarked turn-off happened to be that which Caesar had specified. She saw a sign for a tavern of sorts and let out a triumphant laugh. "Bless a pic'tur memory," she chuckled under her breath. "Not much further now," she reported to James.

by **Drako11** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 6:00 am

"Com' on dammit all ya scurvy dogs", Caesar cursed quietly. Glancing around the wagon he three figures running towards him. One was James Mcleod, "'Urry up I ain't got all day ta wait for ya to go parading!" Caesar yelled at them, then turning readied to spring the trap. Suddenly something hit him, "Where is Richelle and the others?!", he yelled out again, not turning from his position at the trap.

by **tigerz-peace** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 6:28 am

Elizabeth Darson drew in a sharp breath as the Irish rebel Raff Kelly revealed himself, though not from suprise. She had met up with him, once, after two years, and that was only fleetingly, and not on a level she would have liked. His booming voice, crying out that he lived, caused her heart to flutter, and the 24-year-old strivd to rein herself in.

---

The slate-grey eyes of the nibleman assessed the Irish rebel swiftly, before he rose and followed his companion to the gallows. Cutlass drawn and slashing at those who got in the way, he helped his green eyed companion hold the weight of Lucky Jimmy Mcleoud and direct him.
The unspoken agreement that passed between he and his companion was fleeting, and all of a sudden, he was on his own, supporting James' weight. His hand was wrapped around James' arm just below the elbow.

"Aye... Your bonnie lass be here, lad. I suggest yer do naught worry about her, though." The nobelmans voice was gruff, and he spoke in a manner completely informal for one of his... status.

The Nobleman suppressed a grin as Sheltie arrived, and, between them, they led James Mcleoud to his escape...

by **Vexar** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 7:11 am

Panic mostly flowed through his veins now. He wasn’t being followed, he lost sight of James. This was his chance out, his true means of escape. The magma of his blood rushed through his body. Strife ducked in one alleyway, out of another. He clambered over barrels and crates of all types. Everywhere he went he could see a guard of some sort closing in on their own mission.

It struck him rather quickly. The gates, they always closed on times of a high bounty death. He snapped in another change in direction. His hat fought to stay on his head. The air in the alleys was chilled, cold snaps smashed into him every time he passed an intersection of alleys. His movements seemed chaotic and random. It was a perfection he built from his thieving ways. He had it all mapped out.

There they were. Those silly goons, foiled by pieces of lifeless metal in front of them. “Behold! It is I!” He spoke loudly, arrogantly. “Strife -” The shot of a musket interrupted his grand entrance. Both of his rapiers had been drawn, he was brashly showing them off in his pose of victory. The shot hit the wood of a house. It sunk in with a deep, thunk. More fire would be soon to come.

“Rescue, this way!” It was all he could manage before nearing those at the gate and making a sharp dart into an alley. He hoped they would be smart enough to follow, since they fell for a gate trap. This would be one he’d never let go, that is, if he made their crew.

by **Irish Wolf** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 7:34 am

Raff walked to the gate and gave it a mighty kick. The steel bars shook and rattled but did not budge. He growled softly though glade he was wearing boot for the first time in his life. "We fight" he said, pulling out a pistol with his left hand, "Do ye have a firing piece?"

The pistol and claymore felt good in his hands again. Raff had been laying low for the past few months but that burning hatred for English and their king never left his blood. It felt really good to spill his people's enemies and oppressors blood again. It had felt even better to shout his name at the face of the English king, knowing the king had toasted his death half a year before.

Then this lad carrying a pair of knitting needles came scrambling down towards the gate, drawing the redcoats down on their position. He shouted something about rescue and ran down a side ally. Raff looked over at the nobleman and waited to see what he was going to do.

by **Walter Barrecks** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 11:03 am

"Bloody fuck, I'm late..." Climbing up the side of the building in front of him, No Beard knew his timing was off. The sweet sound and smell of guns made him quicken his pace, and almost the sack he was carrying. " 'urry up ya fool, or they'll keep tha rum from mae..." Reaching the top, he looked out towards the frantic nobles, and the red coats rushing back and forth looking for James. "This iis gonna bae too easy..."

Ol' Flintlock Kelly never was quick to do his tasks, even ones planned out over two years time. His only job was to create a distraction and keep the soldier's attention on him instead of James and the rest of the crew. William dropped the bag in his hands, pulling out two round objects. With a white rope in his teeth, he touched the orange tip to the fuse of the two balls, and tossed them near the troops running by. " 'EY! UP 'ERE YA BLOODY COCKERS!" With an explosive sound, No Beard threw the sack over his back, and started running. Reaching the edge, he jumped to the next, lower building, and rolled to take some of the shock out of the impact.

With a group of guards following him, William ran through the streets, annoying every noble and red coat he passed. He leveled his pistol at a British troop ahead of him, and clicked the trigger. A sadistic grin appeared on his face as the musket ball went into the man's head. " You'll never catch mae, lads, giv' it up before ya waste all yer ammunition!"

No Beard was running out of street soon enough though. Eventually he'd have to jump in the water, or hijack a boat. If not, he was gonna be taking Jame's place.

by **fighter_rose_003** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 11:18 am

Twigs, having heard familiar voices, jumped from her seat in a nearby building. Her hands swiftly shot to her sides where she kept her two daggers. She pushed aside people and stepped out the door. She could feel her heart pounding as she looked toward port. A smile appeared on her lips as she saw ships there. She could hear the fighting going on and knew she would be too late if she tried to catch up to them now.
Twigs moved away from the building and took her hands from the hilts of her daggers. She started whistling to herself as she walked down to the port. She would wait for everyone and join them there.

by **NewArthur** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 11:35 am

Markus limped to a stop, breathing heavily, he had lost sight of James and now he was lost in port.

"Drat this dam leg" Markus swore "How am i meant to find them now?"

Once again he began to limp off down the street heading in the vague direction of the docks, if he couldn't find them here maybe he could catch them before they left. He limped off all around he could hear gun shots and shouting, it seemed the red coats had found something to chase. But that was none of his business he had to find the Fledgling before it left.

Markus hobbled off quickly, when from behind he heard a shout.

"Halt in the name of the king" Came a commanding voice, Markus turned slowly from down the street came ten red coats armed and ready. "You there have you seen the prisoner, run off down here"

"Nah i haven't" Markus called back "maybe you should try down there "Markus pointed down a street that swung back towards the square, were James had escaped from not that long ago. With a rush the men turned and head off down the street, Markus turned and headed back towards the dock.

Hopefully he would meet someone he knew on the way down.

by **ConvolutedMusings** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 12:12 pm

The wind travelling over the vastness of ocean had finally died, so the finger was unneeded, yet still it remained on the corner of the page, habit. It gave no real pressure to the faded, decaying paper of the old book, but rested barely touching it. The words, written in an ink now faded to a dirty brown, jumped out from the page. A most enjoyable fiction.

The rum had half gone now, into the belly of the reader, to warm the soul. A book that had been read by the same eyes repeatedly, this was known to the Captain to be a rather chilling section of the story. Of course, that was all it was. Surely?

He knew much of the upcoming conceptual interpretations.

Opposition.

It was in all things. There was no day without a concurrent night. No death without a simultaneous birth. Each gunshot was met with a wound being healed. Each tear contended with smiles. Opposition was in everything. So, it was only logical that with such good as the legendary city of Elkab, there would be, to oppose the good that came with it, some great evil.

A shiver ran down the Captain's spine as he read the words that depicted the fictitious evil that was intrinsically linked to Elkab. It was more than enough to scare any sea faring man or woman, no matter how stalwart their heart may be.

The shiver was only caused by a good piece of creative writing, and was why the Captain enjoyed it.

A man of his standing could never take such fantastical musing as anything even nearing a semblance of reality.

by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 4:32 pm

The nobleman with the green eyes paused, thinking for a split second. The scrawny lad that had popped up out of nowhere was offering to 'rescue' the rescue party...and at the moment, they really had no other choice but to wait there until the officers came and took them up.

"Let's follow him, Raff. If all else fails, we can skin 'im for leadin' us astray," The nobleman finally gruffed out, sheathing his sword and running after the boy. This was a hitch in the plans...not something he had wanted to deal with. Not on this most important of events. But even if they were captured, then Lucky James would still have been freed...and live. And that was worth any time in prison or any jig on the end of a rope.

by **Irish Wolf** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 4:45 pm

Raff flicked the blood from the basket-hilted claymore and sheathed the heavy blade. "Aye" he said, kinda waiting to stay and fight. With a light growl, he shoved his pistol into his sash and ran after the green eyed noble. His boots echoed on the cobble stones. Raff had never gotten the hang of running quietly with boots on, rather then his bare feet, as he had run for twenty four of his twenty six years.

by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Fri Mar 28, 2008 11:04 pm

The king was wroth. He was swearing more than most of those around him had heard before, pacing back and forth in his hidden away room where he had been escorted the second things turned dangerous. James McLeod was missing...he would be recaptured, surely, and he was be hung in the same day, in the same place, just not at the time he was supposed to be. But the king's will would be done. The talented British officers would find the runaway rapscallion, and they would bring him back. And any who had assisted in causing this chaos would be hung, quartered and burned. Perhaps not in that order.

....

The nobleman with the green eyes and his companions (one old, one new) had paused to shelter in a side alley. The escape after the rescue had hit a hitch, but the appearance of the scrawny lad with the tooth picks (as Raff would surely be eventually referring to them as) had been a boon. But until they were out of the fire and back into the kettle, the boy would not be considered a friend.

The nobly dressed man exhaled slowly, twisting the gold ring around his finger as his eyes flitted back and forth around the abandoned street. The trio went silent as a small platoon of soldiers marched past, vanishing from sight around one of the many corners.

"If we don't reach the ship by dawn tomorrow, we'll be left behind..." The noble murmured. His voice still held the false gruffness to it, but along with it was a trace of concern.If they didn't make it out to sea, there would be no long term hiding. They would be captured and picked apart by a REAL executioner...and this was not how the nobleman had been intent on the next few days.

by **Vexar** on Sat Mar 29, 2008 6:42 am

He nearly left them behind with every turn. It was only the sound of marching troops he stopped for. He heard the nobleman's warning of time. He clearly had zero hope in Strife, as did the Irishman. Lucky, those who travel with a man like James, feel his luck cast onto them. In this case it had. He hopped over crates in one alley, slipped through barrels in another. He made sure the way was clear for those behind him.

He had no idea he'd have to show his own brutality during this little escapade. A guard had stayed behind. Strife saw the man, his heart was the only thing that slowed down. His feet pounded the cobblestone. The man heard the echoing. He turned to see the noise. His mouth opened to cry a warning to all around. There was no time. A sick gargle followed a slice through the man's mouth. Blood barely had time to ooze from the back of his head. Strife had never stopped running. The man had been standing, slit, and hit the ground with a thud that was only heard of a skull cracking. As if someone had simple busted open a watermelon with a hammer.

Strife's sword slide back out of the mans mouth as he continued his dash across the street. Hit tugged the lifeless man's head a bit, and left a bloody trail across his face. Strife only gave a glance back, to make sure the others were still following him. He gave a nod that things were all clear, just before dashing to the end of that alley.

by **Angel_Melfina** on Sat Mar 29, 2008 7:19 am

Commotion was again at fault for stealing her attention. Young eyes turned to meet a tall fellow walking in her direction, his chocolate brown hair pulled back away from his face. It was hard to tell from a distance, but his movement was odd, as if he was constantly stumbling. As he got closer to the dock she was sitting on, it became apparent that he was sporting a wooden leg.

Pirate stories had their way of traveling to her part of town, but she had yet to hear of a pirate that had a real peg-leg. This was an exciting moment indeed! Climbing to her feet, the young lady dusted the tiny bits of sand and salt from her pants. The minuscule granules fell to her feet, coating her small boots in a thin layer of snowy white powder. She gently flipped her orange hair behind her shoulders, inducing another shower of salt crystals from her fiery locks, revealing the many hours of beach-side observing that the young lady had done.

With a polite curtsy, the girl greeted the peg-legged pirate.

"Why, hello good sir. How do you do?"

by **Drako11** on Sat Mar 29, 2008 9:27 am

Caesar cursed a mob of soldiers were running towards him and his hastily built trap. He had yet to see any sight of Richelle and Raff. The guards grew ever closer as Caesar waited, finally they grew to close. With a jerk of a rope the mountain of barrels came crashing down onto the soldiers many breaking open spilling their contents. A netting of rope sprang up in front of them stopping any that somehow made it through the barrels unscathed. Finally the wagon now free of it's binding ropes rolled forward, its heavy weight crushing and maiming.Chuckling Caesar dashed off towards the alley, leaving behind him a mess of cursing, dying, and dead men.

by **Skallagrim** on Sat Mar 29, 2008 9:48 am

James eyed those with him, the tall, slim cloaked figure guiding him and the colorful little it of fluff. Much had changed in the last two years, his bonny Richelle writing him constantly buoyed his heart, and to know she was here. That this attempt to escape from the King and his desire, abet at the urging of Abercrombie, to dance the jig for piracy against the crown.

Taking a sip of the harsh alcohol, James felt it burn his throat, the bitterness lingered upon his tongue. Exhaling James looked down at the chains between his hands, attached to the shackles that bound is wrists. He was here, his mess mates, and the woman he loved all here, because of Abercrombie.

Eyes narrowed as he heard Abercrombie's words again, "Dear James. I have captured you and handed you to the King as an example of the piracy on the seas to curry favor among the court for my East India Trading Company. By submitting my own brother, whom is now considered one of the most dangerous pirates." Abercrombie had to pause as he began laughing, after a moment he continued, "The King has granted us power to sweep the seas with our own private fleet of warships to protect the Crown's interests."

James snarled, "We've ta hurry mates, we've to hurry if we are to escape the clutches of the King."

by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Sat Mar 29, 2008 11:12 am

The trio had continued on post haste, when shock of all shocks...the boy assisting them took the life of a guard without so much as pausing in his gait. The nobleman noted in the back of his mind that the lad was not so helpless as perhaps he seemed...and then quickened his pace. Just a few more corridors and...there! Just ahead, a pair of horses awaited Raff Kelly and his diminutive noble friend. And naturally, standing a mere thirty feet away was a platoon of red coats, discussing their next course of action. There was no time to slow down and think of a plan.

Grinding his teeth, the noble reached into his fancy jacket and withdrew a pistol. A single shot was fired into the group of soldiers, who jumped as one and scrambled to collect into an attack. Their moment of reorganization gave just enough time for Raff and his companion to clamber onto the horses, slice their reigns from the post they had been tied to, and kick them into a gallop. As he jumped, the nobleman grabbed the boy that had led them around the middle, hauling him onto the horse and along for the ride. It seemed horribly unfair to leave the helpful lad to his own devices with the officers, so he was coming with them.

The three individuals on two horses clattered away amidst the sound of muskets being fired and orders for surrender. And they were off, headed towards Greensbury to rendezvous on the ship where it had all begun.

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