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Marco McDonald

I appreciate the concern, but next time try not to blow the bloody ship up, eh?

0 · 527 views · located in Deadly Dame

a character in “Mysteries of the Sea”, as played by JokerofSpades

Description

Image
Full Name: Marco 'Cannon' McDonald, also known as Weasel.
Age: 26
Gender: MALE man.
Appearance: Marco is an interesting pirate, standing roughly 5'11 and clocking in at about 160 lbs. His hair is kept above his head with a black bandana so it doesn't interfere with his work, as his sandy brown hair is to above his shoulders. 2 earrings in each ear, face usually covered in a slight black dust and grimy look, and a faint beard growing in. His fingers are smaller than most hard workers, as what he deals with is not only large and heavy, but can be dainty and very dangerous. His physique may not be as large as other pirates, but he can hold his own and is quite wiry.

Skills: Engineering is his true skill, being able to take apart nearly anything on the ship and put it back together better than new. Next comes his explosive and firing expertise, which is something to see. When in the mood to fire a cannon himself instead of letting a lackey do it (which he does frequently) he can hit any ship from anywhere to 1000 yards to even a recorded 1200 yards. Moving onto his organizational skills, he keeps all the black powder stored below in perfect check, never letting anything happen to it and making sure it doesn't separate. Finally comes his useless skill of singing pirate songs. He is usually the one to start any form of song on the ship, since he is actually a very good tenor. Other than that, he is quite exceptional at aiming with most weapons, but sucks at swords, so he uses daggers.

Position: Master Gunner - Mostly the Leader of Artillery, but also keeper of the black powder and responsible for the upkeep of the guns, ammunition and cannons of the ship.

Likes:
~Weaponry
~Learning new techniques
~Organization & Cleanliness (among weaponry, anyway)
~Logical Reasoning
~Relaxing
~Drinking competitions (he usually finishes last to second. Never wins...)
~Singing
~Accuracy
Dislikes:
~Swords
~Cats (Sorry Popeye)
~Doing jobs he shouldn't have to
~Losing (does a lot of that)
~Other people near his weaponry
~Old machinery
~Holes in the ship (explain later)
~Shitty Helmsmen
Fears:
~Drowning - nearly did a while back, and terrified of the idea. Irony, no? (Reason why he hates holes in the ship.)
~Cats - It sucks when the captain has one.

Personality: Relaxed and level headed, Marco isn't one that you would find on an ordinary pirate ship. He really, really hates having to do work that is outside of his jurisdiction, which is basically everything except for weapons and stuff. He is quite lazy, even if everybody else hates him for it. Cruel, cold, distant, doesn't matter, Marco isn't fazed by basically anybody and goes about his business the way he wants to do so. This usually gets him into slight troubles with the quartermaster or the captain, but as stated before, he is indifferent. He becomes extremely territorial when it comes to the ammunition, powder and cannons however, and HATES it when others try to tell him how to do his job. He is very spiteful and revenge driven at times of anger, and will usually refuse to fix that person's weaponry or make it backfire if pissed. The only ones that he doesn't do that to are the Quartermaster (just because he is needed for organization, and Marco respects that) and the Captain (would rather not get thrown into the waters, thanks).

When it comes to war time, this English born pirate gets a little crazy. As in 'Shooting everything he can at once and doesn't stop until it isn't moving' gun crazy. He looooves firing cannons, would do it all the time if it wasn't for the fact that he needed a few others to help him. Calculating, mischievous tendencies, Marco isn't the desired pirate, but means well and knows his job very, very well.

Reputation: Originally didn't have any reputation until his 20th birthday, when he signed up for his first ship. It was there that he found that his knack for mechanics and how things worked became quite useful for a gunner. Over the next 2 years, Marco became known as the 'Weasel Cannon', the 'BangMan', 'Cannon' or simply 'Weasel'. This was all thanks to his near non existent ability for him to miss with a cannon, and his reputation swelled when he was known for putting in a few more rounds than he probably should into another ship or man (make that 10 x more rounds than he should have)

Bio/History: Born of a wealthy English family, Marco McDonald grew up bored with life. All he did was tinker with things, take them apart, figure out how they worked, and then put them back together. No originality, nothing. He found his life much too dull for his own liking. When he was 15, he snuck out into the night with enough coin to last him at least a year and made a life for himself. He would party, drink, court with the ladies, and so on. However, a man of his tastes got bored with normal people within the year, and he was starting to run low on money. It was then that he realized what he was missing: He still had money left. He figured that if he had to work for his food, maybe life would be more exciting. That was the largest mistake he had made ever.

He was a terrible worker. He hated doing things to other people's paces, couldn't stand all the whining and complaining of customers or the orders that his bosses gave him. After 2 years of living a life on his own, he returned back to his rich family, only to find out he had been replaced. See, he had originally been an only child, which was rare for families of the time, especially since most men married at 15. It mattered not, as he saw a young baby in the arms of his mother and father, and assumed the worst: He wasn't welcomed back. So, instead of going to his heart broken parents - that child was actually his cousin - he set out for his own once more, but only made it 6 months before returning home once more. Largest mistake number 2. When his parents found out he was alive and well - albeit filthy - they cleaned him up and dropped a fairly large bomb on him one week later: Since he was getting older than they liked, he was to be married as soon as possible so he could continue their family line. His choices made him nauseate, to say the least. Instead, he found a girl of his own choosing and prepared to marry her instead. That didn't settle well for his parents, for she wasn't of the same status.

Marco, not really caring, decided to marry her anyway, and had a baby girl with his new wife, her name being Maria. For a year and a half, they lived happy, having another child before tragedy struck: He was accused of raping and murdering two innocent ladies, whom Marco hadn't even met before in his life. Not even sure who set him up, he feared for his life and ran, which was how he ended up on a pirate ship. Before leaving his wife, he told her to 'Wait for his return, and that he will come back.' After finally being able to leave the ship after 6 years of being a pirate, he returned to an empty house. When he asked about where the residents who had lived their before had gone, he learned from the neighbors that Maria had left the city for the countryside. Not sure what to make of it, Marco decided to join the legendary ship of Valorie Talithe

Other (extra little details you want to include): He actually brought with him a pet Ferret named Weasel Jr.

So begins...

Marco McDonald's Story

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Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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Marco McDonald had staggered into the tavern not two hours before meeting Malicious Val, and it was all because of confusion.

McDonald was sitting at the bar, at the very end which was entirely unlike him. Normally he was the one leading the songs, attempting to out-drink men and failing - you can't blame the guy for being smaller than most... - and just being the life of the bar. However, Marco sat in the corner, the only seat he had yet to sit in for the entire Pub, and swirled his ale around. He couldn't bring himself to drink it, the whole day had been totally preposterous. The dim lights and the constant yelling and cheering suddenly seemed uninteresting the more he didn't participate. It irked him that so many people could be happy, while he was just confused. What made matters worse was that this was a pub that he frequented, so the barkeep kept staring at him funny.

After being on the 'Black Tide' for six years, which was notoriously known for rarely docking, he thought he could attempt the life he had before with Maria and their two kids. Strange for a pirate to have such morals and goals, but that was his life: he never really meant to be a pirate, it was just an accident, one that he actually didn't regret. If he didn't have a wife and children back home, he probably would stay a pirate, for he loved the cannons. He couldn't keep away from them, and was instantly stationed a cannoneer, if such word existed. Over the next six years, he grew to become the Master Gunner for his final year, and loved every moment of it. Alas, he felt more compelled to live with someone he loved rather than a bunch of oddball hooligans.

Yet when he got home, he found his house deserted, his family gone. He inquired with the neighbors, the vendors, everybody to find where his Maria had run off to. He could only get one answer, one that had haunted him nightly when they were approaching Glendamn Bay: she had run away to the country side with the family and left him behind. He wasn't sure how he should feel, for he knew that he had a history for assuming things. Maybe she just wanted a change of scenery, or in the worst case, man. Marco couldn't understand, so with Weasel Jr. he set off to the only place he could find peace, which was the Pub. Even there didn't help, for he could only down half of his drink in the last two hours before giving up to just stare at it.

"Not feeling today, eh McDonald?" A waitress came over to him, her eyes understanding. While most of them got pretty promiscuous with the customers, and most of them had been with him before his marriage, they all looked at him as a friend and drinking buddy now, so their concern was actually real. She had also heard about Maria before he had gotten back, and even the waitress doubted she was coming back.

"I guess so miss... It's just, how am I supposed to move on with my life when my only reason for staying has disappeared?" He groaned and banged his mug against the bar moderately. She nodded her head, then turned it to a booth across the bar.

"Well, I've been seein' lasses and gents heading over to that both o'er there. Something tells me that lady is hiring." Marco craned his neck to see around the masses to spot the lone pirate in a booth, obviously female. What caught his eyes, however, was the faint glimpse of purple under her hat, which made him puzzle a little. Could she be...? Naw, I heard she was just a myth. And yet... Marco was intrigued now. Maybe that was what he needed, another adventure to get him away from his house, away from his problems. He smirked a little and finally took a swig of his drink after what had been about 30 minutes.

"Hold that thought miss, I'll be back." He stood up and slithered his way through the crowd, dodging around fights and passed out men alike. From a distance, she seemed to be passed out, and yet Marco could tell that she wasn't. When he reached the booth, he could see the parchment paper and instantly smiled quickly. She was hiring, and it was his lucky day. However, when he leaned down on the table, his rich upbringing kicked in before he could stop himself. "Evening Miss. I was wondering if I could join your merry band of pirates." He said, before stopping himself.

She wasn't even fazed, and barely glanced up at him before saying Why'd ya think ye be worthy for My crew? Marco gave a little shrug, relaxing on the other side of the booth. "I'm gifted with a cannon, miss, what can I say. And I'm pretty damn good at fixing weaponry, if ya needed it to be." She seemed to not even care and just keep marching forward with the questions. Is that so, and what position be you looking for? "Master Gunner, miss. Can't say I would be useful anywhere else, but I've been shooting a cannon for 6 years now." Alrighty then, congratulations Mate I'll see you bright an' early on the docks. I spec you know where my ship be. Marco gave a smirk and reached down to sign the paper. "Pleasure to be of service, ma'am. M'name's Marco McDonald, but you may know me as BangMan McDonald, or just Weasel and this is my partner Weasel Jr." His ferret, which had been on his shoulder the entire time, made a sound.

"I shall see you at dawn then ma'am." He smirked and left her presence, scratching Weasel Jr. Finally with a purpose, Bangman McDonald was ready to hit the sea once more. And overcome his fear of drowning.

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Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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"Bloody Bullshit."

That was the only thing he could say without swearing anymore. He had standards, even if the pirate world didn't want them. He had actually more like mumbled his sentense, not really feeling the need to raise his voice or get concerned with the affairs of a liar. Marco was still in his corner seat, and had been eavesdropping on the tail. It didn't take him long to call the story-teller a liar, for his story didn't even add up. Now, Marco was a man based off of logical reasoning, and from what he could tell, there was none in the man's story. And he knew the moment he opened his mouth, he was ranting a little in his head.

First of all, I've never 'eard of a Pirate who was set in stone. That don't even make sense, since Pirates have no 'Past' to go back to. Secondly, what the hell were they floating on? And what kind o' walrus, not effing sea-walri, could make a bloody fire with penguins? Not to mention even care about a bloody pirate. And how the hell did that Percy fellow find 'em? Argh, bloody hell... Marco took a long swig of his ale, calming down his mind. He didn't need to get into a bar fight right now, nor did he have to be challenged to a duel or some other bloody pirate challenge. All he wanted was to drink the night away, either alone or with others, and then wake up at dawn to board what was going to be the best ship he had ever seen.

It seemed, though, that Weasel Jr. was enjoying himself, for he was also a regular at the bar and the one barmaid was feeding him some scraps. The ferret had seen better days, with matted fur and scratched along its face. Odd how it had gotten into a fight with a parrot when Marco still sailed on the Black Tide. Those were moments to remember, he had to chuckle to himself. He shook his head as well, and took another drink, oblivious to the possiblity of the liar trying to justify himself or something. He didn't need to care anymore. Marco was getting into a happier mood, one that almost allowed him to sing with all his might. Marco sighed happily running through the list of pirate songs he had picked up in those short 6 years. He was becoming something of a bard, or whatever singing minstrels called themselves nowadays, and he loved it.

Marco drank the last bit of his mug and exhaled happily. Maybe today really was a good day. Probably not, but that night still counted. Getting hired onto a ship, running through his songs, relaxing in one of his favourite bars. It truly was a good night. The rest of the day could just disappear.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Winkie Bouchard Character Portrait: James Taylor Character Portrait: Johnny "Flintlock" Fletcher
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#, as written by Adantas
The night continued on. The noise dimmed down apart from the occasional outburst. Groups of people huddled together having a good chat, whether boasting about their trips or attempting to score it didn't matter. The mood was just right, it was cosy and joyful. The evening had gone well and Val was impressed. She filled up all the positions she needed and of course had a few lackeys sign up too. By then she must of been on her six mug of ale but she had to keep reminding herself to take it slow. She's on business. The characters that had had the nerve to walk up to her and sign up were a mixed bunch. All seemed like they had a full set of marbles and some extra balls either that or they were good enough to bullshit their way through. She was impressed by most of them but they had yet to earn her respect yet. Setting her legs back on ground as they had started to cramp up from being in the same position for so long, she reached over and scanned the paper:
Drake Springer
Winkie Bouchard
Marie Simon
Johnny Fletcher
Mama Agatha
Marco Mcdonald
Ildigardo LeFarge
Azalea Gordon
James Taylor

Although she suspected that from all the bullshit that had come out of his mouth this evening that she had overheard Ildigardo LeFarge was probably not his real name. She didn't care, she understands that what happened in the past stays in the past and a need for a new life. She was only concerned that his tongue doesn't do any more wagging than need be. By the looks of it though the Marie girl seemed to have taken an interest into him already. No harm in having a little fun especially on a long journey. Mama had disappeared for the most part but seemed to reamerge to feed the Marco fella's ferret. Winkie had vanished as had Johnny in his drunken stupor. The young doctor Azzy had melded into the crowed and the James Taylor who looked a bit of a pompous know it all, but should at least come with some interesting conversations, he had escaped to his room. There were a bout a two dozen other names on the list but they were only hired as more bodies to keep the ship in mint condition and to man the cannons. From her education back with her old Captain she could tell the type of person from their handwriting. From Johnny's rough scrawl to Jame's professional loops these were two men that got to down to business. Draining the last of her ale she stood up and made her regal march past the bar which she tipped her hat to the tender and flung him a few coins which he caught expertly. The others didn't notice her slip through the crowd but she eyed them off as she passed. She thought to herself as she made her way down the docks. This should make a very interesting adventure.

The setting changes from Glendamn Bay to Deadly Dame

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Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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Marco had awoken in his abandoned house that morning, about an hour before dawn. Waking up to an empty house was really quite demoralizing, so he didn't think about it. He got dressed, bathed himself slowly, for this would be his last good bath in years probably. With that done, he got dressed in his attire: unlike most pirates, his clothing wasn't as loose fitting, for his job required precision, and that needed no distractions or interference. When he finished, he grabbed his only belongings that he needed for such a voyage. Being used to a ship that rarely docked, he was very well acquainted to packing light and learning to fight off hunger, so all he carried with him were as follows: 2 black bootknives, which were attached to his tight boots, a picture of his family which was also kept in his boot, a long strip of fabric to make a hammock for Weasel Jr and a necklace with his family heirloom.

With everything in check, he grabbed his tool box of assorted items that he had gathered over the years, tightened his bandana and headed out. Now, as he walked he could make out many others walking onto the ship already: The bullshitter, that slutty girl that was with the bullshitter, and various other people that he didn't recognize. He sighed to himself in annoyance. This will be interesting, to say the least... Hopefully the Deadly Dame docks more often than the Black Tide.. He thought to himself with a smirk. The ship, he noticed, was just like out of the legend itself, marvelous and mysterious looking. It wasn't long before he could make out the cannons, which nearly made him jump out of his boots in giddiness. They looked bloody beautiful, and he was looking forward to firing them more than once.

He marched onto the the dock and onto the ship, Weasel Jr. wrapped around his neck and asleep. He instantly noticed the cat, and his ferret awakened in a second to hiss at the cat. Marco felt the same, and instantly shuffled a little to the left to address his new Captain.

"Marco McDonald here, Cap'an. Master Gunner, Explosion expert and Weapons repair." He nodded, then turned to see that the bullshitter was actually the helmsman and he groaned to himself. This was going to suck. He stayed silent for a few seconds before continuing. "If you have nothing that you would like me to do, I'll head down to the black powder room and make myself at home." He nodded once more before heading to the stairs down to below ship. He took one more look at the cannons and nearly burst out with happiness. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy firing those things.

As long as nobody touched his stuff.

The setting changes from Deadly Dame to Glendamn Bay

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Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Marie Simon
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#, as written by Tonks
Ignore this I made a mistake.

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Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: James Taylor Character Portrait: Azzy Gordon
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#, as written by Adantas
A few more hired hands had arrived and then following them came Azzy. She seemed a little bleary eyed but was otherwise concious.
"Morning," she piped up, ""Anything you'd like me to do before we set sail?"
"there is a room below deck that I have fitted out as your room. It has the equipment I expect you would need. You may go settle in and check that everything is in order there. Once everyone has arrived I shall address you all."
No sooner had Azzy walked on board and Pompey cocked his head as he judged her walk had Master James come sauntering up.
"Good morning, ma'am," he called out cheerfully. "First off - mate - Taylor requesting permission to come aboard." He had hardly finished his sentence before he was eagerly walking up the gangplank. Pompey's tail was doing some quick twitches to show his irritation.
"Yes Master Taylor good morning to you. You should be able to find the navigation room on board, you may get yer stuff settled in there." and having to repeat it for the utmost time, "Once everyone arrives please make your way to the main deck as I shall be addressing everyone."
Not bothering to see if he heard she turned back to see Marco doing a hurried walk.
"Good Mornin' Master McDonald and to you Master Weasel." she nodded to both and Pompey was sniffing wildly at this new creature.
"Please make your way below deck and you may inspect the cannons."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Marie Simon Character Portrait: Agatha 'Mama' Rattleback
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Mama was looking rather splendid today, despite the wicked facial scar and the strange cut of her hair. With that lifted jaw and those handsome lush black furs wreathed about her strong shoulders, the finest furs to be exact, even by noble standards. She was a sight indeed. Her usual outfit of bandages and shorts had been temporarily covered by a sharp dark mahogany duster coat that billowed about her feet. A weathered tri-corn was jauntily squared away atop her head, boasting a macaw feather that had seen better days. Fancy indeed. That was until she stepped from plank to deck and her furs rose up, exposing a wide pink mouth as they yawned and gave a stretch. Huh. It seemed the cook had managed to make an accessory out of her sleeping bushy-tailed Lemur. Unlike the weasel before it, it simply wound its thin lemur fingers into Mama's hair as it sat itself upright on her shoulder, gazing down solemnly at Pompey with its great golden eyes. This handsome beast was truly Mama's finest possession. The only other things she seemed to have on her was a travelers rummage sack, and a roll of sturdy canvas, in which she likely kept her cooking knives.

The very moment Mama had politely removed her hat to the captain, that lush black beastie would begin grooming her head with a re-awoken vigor, causing flat out discord to take over what little order her hair had at all. Lovely. But Mama didn't seem to mind enough to scold the beast. She was on a mission, and unless stopped, she would be below decks herself. Once in the gloom that Lemur would take off, nosing into every door it could get open and just observing, like a scout, as she made her way towards the stern to where the Galley was sure to be located. In passing she would notice Marie, the girl that had wandered off with the story teller the night before, and was that...Her weasel friend? Complete with human escort of course. She would pause to look over the man, taking advantage of the fact that his attention was occupied.

Once her study was complete, she'd lick her wind-chapped lips and move onwards, skirting past the two in silence as she padded off after that snuffling lemur. He seemed to know the way.

There was inventory to be taken, she could only assume that Val had stocked up on the essentials, or at least that there was enough inventory to get them to another docking point... Once in the galley she would make herself right at home, tossing aside her duster, hat and rummage sack. The entire place and its ware would be surveyed quickly by Mama before she kicked off her boots and slouched against the door frame, attention wandering back to the conversation of Marie and the weasel keeper. It wasn't long before Mama, in only her shorts and bandages this time, passed by Marie and Marco to reach the upper deck, seeking Val to inquire about inventory.

"It'd be helpful to know what I'm workin' with, food wise, an 'ow many mouths 'v got ta feed."

Of course she had arrived just in time to be joining everyone out on the deck. Lucky her. Left to squirm in this sunlight before she tucked herself back in a merciful shadow, cast by the ship itself.

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Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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Marco had made his way into the lower deck, and wished he could just stay there for the next few years. Everything was just as the rumors had stated: That Val was not only the scariest pirate, but had the best gear, which she certainly did. Each barrel was loaded with different grades of black powder, and Weasel Jr could tell which one was which. Marco smiled as he watched his little ferret go to work. When the Black Tide had docked for its second time in 2 years, he picked it up off of a challenger who he shot dead after the man challenged him to a cannon test, winner take all. And the man meant everything, literally. Since then, Marco had been training the little thing to smell out black powder grades, since its sense of smell was far superior to that of his own. When it was a lower grade, he would pass by it so that Marco could inspect it further, and the better grades he would gnaw on the barrel. And little Weasel Jr. was gnawing on a LOT of barrels. Marco smiled, knowing his choice in ships was better than ever.

Next he would want to inspect the weaponry, and not just the cannons. He found out he was gifted in pistol and rifle repair as well when the one pirate from the Black Tide accidentally broke something. It took Marco 5 minutes to find the problem, and only 3 to solve it. Ever since most men bring their guns to him to fix, and he usually will be more than happy to. At that time as well, he usually fills them up with more powder.

Marco grabbed a piece of parchment from the side and checked the inventory, making sure everything was in order. It was then that he heard a scurrying noise, and whipped around, grabbing for his boot knife and nearly spearing the animal that was barging into the powder room. Weasel Jr. seemed to chirp in happiness as the creature ran off, but Marco was a little more skeptical. He knew that was no cat, so he would have to make sure he bolted the powder room, or did something. Suddenly, he heard the Captain yelling about something, so he went above deck and stood in the doorway to listen. He normally didn't listen to captain's speeches, for they were normally the same: "This man is an idiot, don't cross me, blah blah blah." Val's little monologue was no different, except a little more foreboding. Already she was threatening to make people walk the plank, and they hadn't even left. He chuckled a little, and noticed that Weasel Jr. decided to stay in the BP room. He shook it off, and went to go inspect the cannons.

"Pure gold, I'd say" He mumbled to himself as he did a routine checkup on the cannons. Damn, he wasn't sure where Cap'an Val got half of her gear, but you wouldn't hear Marco complainin'. He was just happy to be handling these things, and spent the next long while checking over the cannons, and admiring them at the same time. What a little bit of coin can buy... He smiled to himself as he watched everybody running around and trying to make themselves useful. As long as I stay useful where I am, I shouldn't have ta do anything else.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Marie Simon
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Marco never even moved when he heard the girl's voice, but he could instantly tell that she was his commanding officer. Nobody ever dared to ask him for supplies or what his liking was unless they could do something about it. What he say when he gave her a glance was almost shocking: It was that slutty wench that was going at it with the bullshitting helmsman! Marco groaned inwardly. This would make his job a hell of a lot tougher, cause with her being his commanding officer, he would have to be nice and call her by the name that he thought a little more appropriate.

"My liking? Yes, I guess so." He turned his attention back to the cannons as he went from one to the other. He hadn't even checked the other side yet, and these ones were looking fantastic. "As for supplies, nay. I got me toolkit, all the black powder for a year, and a few weapons to dismantle if I need parts. I think I'll be good for now, miss." He would have to watch out for her, whom he new was calling in his mind the First Mate wench until he learned otherwise that she was either batshit crazy or actually a decent person. What would make it worse is if he started drinking with her around, and that might lead to problems if she kept up the history that Marco knew of her. He sighed inwardly, knowing that for once, he would actually have to pay attention and follow rules. For now.

"Thank ye for the concern though." With that, he turned his full attention back to his cannons. Until he could hear that bullshitter - he really should find out their names... - yelling about needing a quilt, and it being important. He nearly started laughing right then and there about how ridiculous the man was sounding. How can any pirate, nay any honest man, say that without sounding like a complete ass? Does he really think that getting a quilt for himself will help him steer or something?

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Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: James Taylor Character Portrait: Johnny "Flintlock" Fletcher Character Portrait: Marie Simon
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Johnny had been simply leaning against the main mast watching the crew. He mainly had been trying to spot ones that would give him the most trouble. So far, he hadn't spotted anyone too bad. The Captain started speaking which made Johnny give her his full attention. About halfway through the speech he started to smile. From the way she was talking, it sounded like she had a specific goal in mind for this voyage. Johnny loved it when his crew had some sort of goal to drive after instead of just sailing about and looking for ships to plunder. It gave everyone a large moral boost and the sense that they were a part of something greater than themselves. It would also make his work a lot easier seeing as a happy crew usually meant an increase in productivity, meaning he wouldn't have to whip as many people. He honestly didn't like doling out punishment to a crew, he just wasn't that sort of person. He did understand it was necessary and he wouldn't pull lashes just because he didn't enjoy causing people pain. He had run into too many pirates who were pirates because they liked to hurt people or kill them. Him? He was in it for the freedom, pure and simple. The freedom to sail the sea and go wherever the wind may take them. He knew it sounded like a boys dream, but it was true.

It seemed the crew started to get to work after Captain Val's speech, and the ship was beginning to get going. Then, apparently, two sprats started arguing between each other on who was the first mate. The girl was a loud mouth and was quick to draw blood as ever he saw a woman. That usually meant she was very insecure and felt that light comments made by people were harsh judgments. It also meant she didn't take any shit from anyone, which was good. The man spoke politely and calmly to the girl. He could tell from his manner of speech and clothes that he was a high born and used to being at a high station because he believed he had a right to it. It just sounded like he fancied himself superior to anyone he came in contact with, it was rather sickening. Though, since he obviously came from a higher vine in society, it also meant he was probably a learned man an could offer much wisdom to the crew. Oddly enough, the Captain had pointed out that it was the young girl who was the first mate, to Johnny's disappointment. The man seemed to sulk away at the realization that he was the Navigator. He wondered if he knew that technically made him Second Mate. He probably would have reacted the same way even if he did know. The two seemed to have already stirred up some trouble between them, a vendetta might have been forged this day.....or not. Either way, it wasn't Johnny's problem until one of them acted on it. Johnny decided to find his place of sleep on board the vessel. The Quartermaster was usually put away from the others, so they wouldn't do unspeakable things to the man who whipped them, though it wasn't always so.

Johnny walked his way towards the Captains quarters and found a door on the right side of a hallway that was right next to the captains quarters. He opened the door and inside was a fairly small room with a large hammock hanging from the ceiling and two pieces of other furniture. Johnny simply smiled. It was perfect, how he had missed sleeping in a hammock. He placed his bag down and pulled out his Cat O'Nine Tails whip and ribbed flog. He strapped them to his belt so the crew would immediately be able to tell his rank. He then left his cabin and walked onto the main deck again. He looked over and noticed four men hanging around the mooring, it seemed like they were pretending to work, but just talking. Johnny put on his QM face and marched over to them When he got close, he spoke. "You there! What are you four doing?" The four stopped at looked at each other. They seemed to realize who he was and one of them stepped forward. "We were just making sure that the mooring was secure......." Johnny just glared at them. "It doesn't take four men 5 minutes to do that. It takes one man seconds. I want you four to grab buckets and scrub brushes and start swabbing the deck. If this deck isn't on it's way to immaculate by the time I get back, ye'll be flogged! Am I understood?!" The men seemed to stand at attention and all simultaneously called out. "Aye aye, sir!" The four then ran below deck to retrieve their cleaning items. Johnny watched them go, then started to walk about the deck more, making sure everyone's hands were busy.

He noticed the cannons that were just sitting on deck and he realized he had to assign men to the Master Gunner so he could train them on how to use them. He stood near the bow of the ship and folded his hands behind his back, standing fully erect, revealing his daunting size. "I need 12 men with at least a basic knowledge of cannons and or gun powder!" He called out to the crew. Some hurried to wards him, most sort of stood around looking at each other. "NOW!" Johnny yelled out and the men quickened their pace. Soon enough, twelve men stood before him. "You men will be powder monkeys! You will serve under the direct command of the Master Gunner. Now follow me." The men nodded and followed him below deck. Soon enough he was at the powder room. Inside he could see a man meticulously going over the supplies, obviously the Master Gunner, and their illustrious first mate. He entered, instructing the men to stay outside. He spoke to the man. "You the Master Gunner? I'm Johnny Flintlock Fletcher, the Quartermaster. Ive got 12 powder monkeys for your direct command. Men!" he called for them signaling to gather in the room. "Get them ready for target practice later this day once we reach open water. Any problems with them, just come get me." He said to the Master Gunner quickly and professionally. Johnny then turned to the first mat, he believed her name was Marie. "First Mate Marie, I'd like to speak with you outside." He said with no particular expression his face.

Once they were alone in the hallway he looked down to her. "I'm going to start my rounds on the lower decks and check up on the galley, cabins and other places to see what needs more of what. I need you to go up top and keep order on the main deck and make sure everyone is busy. Also, there a couple of scallywags that I caught slacking off and are swabbing the deck at this moment. Keep an eye on them and make sure to be as harsh as you please on them. And of course, if anyone steps out of line, just get me and I'll deal with them. OK?" he said very business like and straight forward to the young women. He wasn't disrespectful or demanding of her, he just informed her of what he needed her to do. It was odd telling someone who probably at least 10 years younger than himself these things. He felt old, though he didn't look it.

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Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Johnny "Flintlock" Fletcher Character Portrait: Marie Simon
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#, as written by Nulix
"You the Master Gunner? I'm Johnny Flintlock Fletcher, the Quartermaster," A voice said. Oliver turned to see a man approach, who he cleverly deduced to be Johnny Flintlock Fletcher, the Quartermaster.

"Ah, glad you're here, we've been having a bit of a crisis," Oliver began, ready to inform the man of his quilt situation.

"I've got 12 powder monkeys for your direct command," Fletcher said, walking directly passed Oliver. "Men!" he called for them signaling to gather in the room. "Get them ready for target practice later this day once we reach open water. Any problems with them, just come get me." He said as he turned away from the Master Gunner.

"Right, now that that's taken care of me quilt shortage should be brought into issue," Oliver spoke as the Quartermaster walked directly passed him again and to Marie.

"First Mate Marie, I'd like to speak with you outside." He said, the two quickly exiting the scene. Oliver looked at them in disbelief before turning to the Master Gunner. "Argh. Mate," He said while pushing past the gunmen that had assembled, trying his best not to sound like a colonial smuggler and a lot more like a pirate. "My name be'eth Ildegardo LeFarge," He said, extending his hand to the man. "I realize you're obviously most busy with your... Gun powder, and your aiming techniques and what not, but I've found myself in a spot of bother. An issue has arisen, one that may very well prevent us from ever exiting this dock. A quilt issue."

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Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Johnny "Flintlock" Fletcher Character Portrait: Marie Simon Character Portrait: Agatha 'Mama' Rattleback
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Mama was no where in sight of the other crew, tucked away back in her galley, door to the kitchens merely cracked as she scrubbed. Pots were to be cleaned, pans too, counter tops and stove too. In fact not much was seen of her at all, she was moving from kitchen to below, gathering supplies. There was much to be done by Mama, and those not acquainted with kitchen duties might think that the lame monster might have it pretty easy down there. She was inspecting the stove for sturdiness, and once pleased she would wander into the galley to count plates, running her fingers down the wooden stack of square flatware, taking note of just how much food would need to be prepped.

Mama would soon be making her way right through the conversation between Marie, Marco, Johnny and Oliver, ignoring the lot of them as she limped her way above deck. It would allow them to get a good look at her though, with her bandaged chest and low slung shorts. and the mess of tattoos on her hips and at her upper arm. Hell, they might even notice the missing finger. Either way she wasn't there to stand and gab with them. Over her shoulder a thin pole was slung, ending in a quite sooty bristled brush. Mama's carelessness with it could easily give any one of them a knock to the mug and a face full of soot. However she was above deck before anyone could protest, and she was limping her way over to the charley noble. Oh the charley noble.

She'd stare at that pipe quietly before cupping a hand over her mouth and murmuring down the sooty expanse "Wish there were a pipe like this 'un leadin' allaway down." It was likely that no one aboard this ship had ever befriended the cook. They were always some sort of disabled sailor with a real attitude problem, and Mama was fitting the stereotype quite well. But back in the days where she had been lovely, when that pale golden flesh had been unmarred and both eyes were seafoam and shining, she had called down rowdy jokes through the charley noble, often teasing the cook, "Woe is me!" the stove would bellow "I think that fat ole sea cow is gonna cook that foul slop atop me once more!" "OOOH make 'er stop! It burns me metal hide!" And then she would listen to the chorus of joking curses raining on her raven head from below in the kitchen, "Go get a fliddlah crab jammed allaway up that crusty hooch o yers Aggie! Aye an Master Gale' l' gladyly prod the thing along!"

Mama would just stare at that silent pipe for a moment before rubbing at her bad eye and finally reaching a hand inside to scratch at the inners of mr. charley. She'd inspect the creosote beneath her fingernail silently before licking at it and scratching at the front of her mane. Soot. Long since used and long since cleaned. Not scrubbed down before...Before what? Come to think of it, she knew what happened to her own crew, but what had happened to Vals? Where did that infamous sea captain put a whole ships list? Why the hell was she sailing all with new faces? Most captains would fear a mutiny with the lack of loyalty...Either way, Mama did as she always did, she kept silent about all those questions, choosing instead to brush out the charley noble. A chimney fire on the high seas in a wooden boat was death for everyone.

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Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Johnny "Flintlock" Fletcher Character Portrait: Agatha 'Mama' Rattleback
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Marco was actually going to test out a few of the cannons by a technique that he learned under a man named the One-Eyed Shooter, Jimmy Malroe. He was, in Marco's opinion, the best damn shot that anybody could want in a gunner, and easily hit anything within 1500 yards. Marco had looked up to him throughout his six years of service on the Black Tide, and he wished that the old man hadn't died halfway through. The technique was quite absurd really, and it required him to stand on his head over top of the cannon. If he could balance easily, than the cannon itself was centered and wouldn't be leaning or anything of the sorts. The only reason he was to stand on his head was because his hands were much more sensitive than his lumbering feet.

McDonald was about to get onto a cannon when the Quarter Master blasted his way in. Marco originally had a face or pure annoyance, but that quickly changed when the man began to talk, because he oozed authority. Quite sickening, but he gave the man a little bit more respect than he did most people who interrupted him. You the Master Gunner? He nodded quickly, because the man kept on steamrolling. I'm Johnny Flintlock Fletcher, the Quartermaster. Ive got 12 powder monkeys for your direct command. Men! Marco's face lit up with a bemused smirk as 12 mismatched men rushed into the room at the Johnny's signal. Marco was liking the QM more and more, his ability to command was quite admirable. Get them ready for target practice later this day once we reach open water. Any problems with them, just come get me Marco quickly spoke before the man ran out and spoke to somebody else. "Aye Aye."

As soon as he spoke, however, a lady who looked like the undead walked through their conversation and hit him with the broom. It wasn't uncommon for him to get soot on his face, it normally stuck anyway, but it still irked him a little. "Watch where yer going miss!" He hollered to the lady as she limped up to the deck. What a bizarre sight she was, with her bandages, scars, and even a missing finger. He shook his head, wondering what other crazies he would meet on this ship.

Marco turned on his heels and raised his head to most of the powder monkeys. Some of them were a little shorter than him, but the majority of the 12 were taller, and that made him feel slightly annoyed. "Alrighty then. I've only got three rules for you lot." They snickered a little, as he didn't sound much like a pirate. Some said that he always sounded a little like a child wannabe pirate, but he didn't mind. After he was done shooting his cannon into their ship a few too many times, many reconsidered their original stance.

"Rule #1. If I'm workin' on something, you DON'T interrupt me. Ever. Remember, your stuck down here with me now, and a shit tone of black powder." He smirked a little, and the larger pirates were slightly unnerved, he could tell in their eyes. "The other two rules are basic. For starters, learn quickly. I ain't here to baby you, and you will be sent above deck if I can't use ya. The next one is to not piss of Weasel Jr, my ferret. He may be cute now, but... lets say that he is a little more volatile than a barrel o' powder." Weasel Jr. gave a little chirp to emphasis the point. "Since he will also be helping you grade the powders, I suggest you be nice. He is a little more habitable when you don't step on him. Now!" Marco finished, and looked at every one of them. He turned around and pointed at the barrels.

"Your first job is to organize the grades of powder, with the lowest grade to be stacked along with walls near the cannons, and the best under the stairs. I wanna see you men work together, ya hear? Junior here will assist if you monkeys need it." He paused, then whispered. "Go." They instantly started reorganizing the powder, and he smiled as he watched.

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Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Agatha 'Mama' Rattleback
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#, as written by Nulix
"Ow," Oliver complained as Mama's broom smacked into his cheek. "Hey lady- Oh, Good Lord, Jesus Christ in Heaven," He whispered in mortal shock as he turned to face her passing form. Shacking off the chilling feeling he got from the woman he turned back to the Gunmaster, who had set up his lackeys to do things.

"Right, anyway, back to my problem," He said to the man. "I have a bit of a quilt issue, in that I need one, and there isn't one to be found. Without this quilt the whole ship could go bottom's up, trust me. I've seen it before."

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Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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Marco was hanging up his hammock under the stairs, for he would rather sleep with the powder than with the others, when he heard a song begin to resonate through the ship. Even though he had told them to keep working until finished, some of the powder monkeys stopped to listen to the singing, which sounded downright beautiful. He was starting to get caught up in the song, for he knew it well, until his little ferret friend made a little hiss, and Marco spun around quickly. Nearly all had stopped working, save a few that were either deaf, dumb or smart. Marco narrowed his eyes at the halted progress, and hissed out a quick "Get back to work!" Some did, while others seemed to be entranced. Marco sighed in annoyance and moved closer.

"I didn't say you men could stop, and I don't care how lovely the tune is. You keep on working, or I'll make you the next target for practise shots!" He snarled out, purely out of annoyance. He really wasn't that angry to begin with, but he needed to show some anger and discipline, or those lousy monkeys wouldn't listen to him at all. Once he made sure they were all working, he quickly tied up Weasel Jr's hammock and followed the noise. He began to hum along as he was looking, his tenor voice resonating in his entire body. When he found the source, he nearly opened the door to compliment her when it swung open and she walked out. Marco quickly hid behind said door until she left the area, to which he sighed. He would have to giver her the compliment she deserved later.

He nearly made it back to the powder room when the entire boat shook from port to starboard. What in bloody- he thought, and instantly ran over to the powder room to see the place looking quite disasterous. The powder monkeys were not used to such a jolt and barrels were rolling around like a man on fire. Marco instantly ran over to one of the cannons, which had started rolling, and hollered "For God's sakes, ya monkeys, hold down the cargo! If one of these cannons goes over board, yer going with it! And, for crying out loud mate, grab those bloody barrels!" He roared at one of the powder monkeys who was still on the floor, not really doing anything. Once they had secured everything, Marco let out a rapid release of commands, including reorganizing the powders, stabalizing the cannons, and making sure everything was in check. He was seething when he made it up to the deck, and he wasn't the only one: The captain was also in an outrage, for the bullshitter helmsman was making up some useless excuse to save his hide. When he tried changing the subject with Look at that view. Ready to sail at your command. Wherever that command may lead.

"How about that command takes you to the bottom of the bloody ocean!" Marco hissed. "Along with the powder AND cannons you nearly threw out into the damned blue! I was hired to shoot and maintain guns, not make sure they crash through the bloody hull." He took a deep breath, and calmed himself down. He always got like this when somebody threatened his job and equipment, and usually was worse.

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Character Portrait: Marco McDonald Character Portrait: Winkie Bouchard Character Portrait: James Taylor
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((sorry I didn't see the post till after I had already posted))

Winkie nodded "Well sir the only reason I know of it was my past Captain bragged about sailing through. He was an old man who was on his last leg literally. He had a map of it and had showed me many times were it was" she said. The ship seemed to going smoothly now "well I guess that fool of a helmsman crashed into something" said Winkie. "My names Winkie by the way sir if ya be need'n anything just let me know" she picked up the bucket and headed for the door. "I'll leave ya to yer maps sir, you'll need all the concentration you can muster if we're head'n to the rocks".

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Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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Marco left when he realized his pleas were falling on deaf ears. He grumbled as he went downstairs to check on the monkeys and see how the reorganization was going. To be honest, Marco was slightly impressed. For the second time around, they were all working together to get the job done, and doing a damn fine job as well. Why, everything was actually going quite swimmingly, even Weasel Jr. was relaxing instead of biting their ankles. Normally, Marco had looked up, ferrets didn't bite and were quite friendly, but he had trained Weasel Jr. to only be friendly to selected people that he liked, instead of everybody. Instead, he would attack those that didn't seem to know what they were doing, and it was quite convenient at times so that he didn't have to do anything.

It was when he jumped onto his hammock when the gunshot went off. He quickly stood up and listened to the shot. The entire band of powder monkeys halted in their tracks, and even the ferret poked his head up. One of the monkeys, his name being Richard, began to speak.

"A gunshot this early into a voyage.. Oh, no, no no..." Marco looked over at the man, staring at him funny. "Bad omen, lads, bad omen..." The guy muttered and Marco rolled his eyes. Superstition held little to nothing in his heart, for everything had a logical reasoning for it. If there wasn't, then cannons still shot their massive rounds through magical black dust. Marco looked at the men, who were starting to get slightly nervous.

"Alright lads, don't fret. Judging by the sound, the gun that was fired is old, too old for any pirate to carry. Their is probably a malfunctioning beaut in the weapons room. Now, time to get back to work." The men started slowly moving, and Marco sighed. "I'll go check it out myself if I must, since fixing all kinds o' guns is what I do. Now, you WILL continue working, because when we start practice I ain't wanting this place looking like a dump." The monkeys got back to work, and Marco hollered a quick "Remember the cannon balls as well!" He then proceeded to follow his ears towards the sound of the blast, to where he found a boy at the beginning of the hallway. He seemed to be looking at something in his hands, and the jerked his head up when he saw Marco.

"Th-The captain informs you sir that this area is off limits until you are notified." Marco looked down at the guy and raised an eyebrow. This was one of the things that really got captain's pissed at him, because he nearly continued walking forward and ignored the fellow. Before he did, he remembered that this was his first day, and would probably be thrown off the ship by dusk. He sighed, annoyed already. He took one look at the kid's eyes, and the reason became clear. Marco smirked at the lad before speaking.

"I see, so that is what happened back there huh." The kid gave him a puzzled look, until one of shock came over him and he started stumbling over his words until Marco held up a hand. "Look lad, I get it. I won't go back there, alright?" He sighed slightly. Bangman McDonald was known for his craziness at shooting a cannon, so killing was slightly second nature to him. It was quite difficult to sound sincere to the kid without becoming too cheezy. He really did understand the situation - he thought anyway - and this was his first day, so better not to push his luck.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll stay 'ere, and obey the captain's laws. But sooner or later I will have to check on the powder and guns back there, so if she wants me to continue working, I need to get back there. So tell the cap'an that McDonald requests permission, "Ugh, how he hated doing so, "to enter the weapon room when she is finished with her..." Marco wasn't sure how to word the last part, so he simply restated his point. "Just tell her I need in later, alright."

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Character Portrait: Oliver Maund Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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Marco had been dozing in his own little hammock as the men ran around, nearly done. It was actually quite convenient for him to be awoken by a very harsh sounding scream, but never the less he hated being wakened from his sleep like that. He peer his head out of the door and yelled back to the man. "Maybe you should try LOOKING!" He didn't yell nearly as loud as the voice, who he had now deduced as Olivier, but it was loud enough for him to hear and for probably the rest of the crew as well. He wasn't in the greatest of moods when he came out of sleep, but that wasn't always his own fault.

He turned back to his powder monkey squad, who had finished a few minutes before he had actually awaken, which made him smile. "Glad to take a little break? Good. You may keep taking your break gentlemen, for in a few minutes I'll be teaching you how to fire those beauts over there." He got that smile he always wore when he started talking about firing: way too giddy, almost bordering maniacal. "By the time I'm done with you, those cannons will be hittin' ships at least 1000 yards away, if not more." Some of the crew members dropped their jaws, while the other monkeys snickered at his outlandish claim. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not BangMan McDonald for nothing." That shut the entire troop right up, and he smiled before turning back.

"5 minutes."

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Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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While the crew ran around and prepared to practice firing, Marco set off. He needed to speak with the captain soon; he didn't want to check the weapons room during a little skirmish, only to find out somebody screwed up the black powder, or the guns weren't working. Well, can't say that. I heard that they were working a little too well... He thought to himself, neither smiling or saddened. He had not a clue what had happened, who might have been injured or killed, for it mattered not to him. Casualties were a fact on a pirate ship, hell they were all going to die if they got caught. Though, to be shot so early into a voyage... Cap'an's either more trigger happy than I can be, or something went wrong. See, this is why I check that kind of thing... He sighed, annoyed, as he searched the lower deck of the ship. He ran into that boy once more after a minute, who told him that the Captain had gone above deck, and Marco nodded. Before leaving, Marco turned and stared into the kid's eyes, the obviously terror-stricken face and shock filled eyes really showing how young the boy really was. Marco then turned around and head up onto the deck, leaving the kid behind to contemplate whatever he was so worried about.

He made his way onto the deck and found the Captain near the relief helmsman, and he gave a little sigh of relief. He really didn't want to deal with bullshitter Helmsman - he really needed to find out that guy's name - so he was quite pleased that he was doing something else with his time. He approached the captain, and gave a little head bow before speaking.

"Cap'an. Reporting in on the cannons." He was adding a little too much formality for his tastes, but he had to sound somewhat sincere. Sure, death had become something to him that was unavoidable, and he already embraced it, but that didn't mean he could just go around and not care about everybody else. Though that was what he normally did... "They're in tip-top shape, and my monkeys will be getting ready to practice in a few minutes, unless something has come up..." He cursed in his mind, knowing that he probably shouldn't have mentioned that he basically knew what happened already. He sighed, and then continued.

"I must also, according to the lad below deck, request permission to enter the weapons room to inspect the powder and maintnence of the weaponry. Don't want anything going wrong now.." He mentally cursed again. Make one more ironic remark and she'll probably cut your tongue out McDonald! He quickly thought of what he was going to say next, like he was pausing for effect, then spoke one more time. "Basically I'm asking if I can get that permission needed ma'am."

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Character Portrait: Valorie Talithe Character Portrait: Marco McDonald
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#, as written by Adantas
Val was staring out over the sea, the breeze flowing through her hair. She was lost in her thoughts as she waited for the body to be brought up on deck. She almost didn't notice the Guns master making his way up to the Helm. She moved towards the stairs as he made his way up and seeing her there he stopped halfway up. She looked down at him with her steely glare. Already she had shown to much compassion and she needed to restore some of her former 'don't f**k with me' persona. Marco bow slightly acknowledging her status before speaking,

"Cap'an. Reporting in on the cannons. They're in tip-top shape, and my monkeys will be getting ready to practice in a few minutes, unless something has come up... I must also, according to the lad below deck, request permission to enter the weapons room to inspect the powder and maintnence of the weaponry. Don't want anything going wrong now... Basically I'm asking if I can get that permission needed ma'am."

Val wasn't stupid. She knew nearly everyone on board would have heard the shot. But it was a matter of what the rumors were saying. She decided she didn't like how he was implying something was wrong with her weapons. She had spent years acquiring the top of the range weapons for this ship and getting those bloody cannons... Well that's another story but the one weapon she had decided to keep of her old Captain ended up killing her doctor on the first day. Either he was telling her something from the afterlife or this voyage was going to be harder than she thought. She eyed Marco probably more harshly than she needed but she was angry. Not so much at him but at the whole situation and just about anything was going to be an irritating fly at the moment.

"Master McDonald," She pronounced his name slowly, "There has been an accident in the weapons room and our doctor has jus passed..." She let it sink in what she was saying, "Tha quartermaster and first mate ar retrieving the body as we speak." She slowly descended the steps so that she was only two above him, "An' I know my cannons be in tip-top shape I make sure o' that personally. Them weapons in the room are of the best quality and if ye be implying that they are any less I may not be feeling so kind. An jus for you McDonald that accident had nothing to do with my weapons." She hadn't realised she had started to lean forwards so she stood straighter and continued, "Ye may go inspect the room after the body's been removed and since ye seem to be so eager to see it ye've just volunteered to clean up the blood!" she smiled a little cruel. She had no reason really to be so harsh but he had caught her in one of her bad moods. As a second thought she pulled out the gun that had shot Azzy, somehow she had managed to place it in her belt holder, "This here be the gun that killed her," she tossed it down to him, "I'm sure you can tell wit your keen eye why she had been killed. Was no random act o' cruelty if that be what your thinking, that guns ready to go off any second." She turned her back to him and made her way back up the stairs, "Oh an' McDonald," she called over her shoulder, "I be holding a ceremony for Azzy so fer practice ye monkeys can fire some practice shots in honour o her."

With that he was dismissed and she stood back beside the relief helmsman, her eyes glued to the horizon. She was overwhelmed with emotions at the moment and the only way she could deal was with malice. Of course it wasn't really the way to impress Marco but she didn't not give a shit at this point in time.