Deadly Dame

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.

Winkie lifted up the bucket she was using to scrub floors bellow deck.When she walked into the room where James was working she didn't notice because he was in her blind spot. Thats when she tripped on a knot in the floor and the bucket crashed to the floor sending water across the floor "Damn it all!" she cursed thats when she noticed that there was a man in the room. "Oh bloody hell, I'm sorry sir I didn't know ye be in here, I'll clean up this mess right quick" she said in a nervous tone of voice this guy looked like he was important.

His papers and books strewn about the table in the room, she started worry that she might get a tongue lashing for this and scrambled to pick the wooden bucket. She pulled a bit of cloth from her belt and started to try to sop up the water that pooling on the floor. "Please sir forgive me as soon as I get this up I leave ya to yer work" thats when she glanced at what he was reading. "The Rocks is a hard thing to navigate" she said sheepishly.

James heard a bang reverberating through the ship, then a shudder. My God, did we hit something? We're not even out of the harbor! At that moment, the door to the chartroom all but blew off its hinges as its latch failed, and a very pretty young girl with a cute little patch over one eye came falling through, sloshing a load of filthy wash water across the deck. James leaped away to avoid getting splashed.

"Good Lord?" he asked. "Are you alright?" Apparently, she was, as she went straight to work mopping up the spill and apologizing profusely. James was used to dealing with clumsy maids and serving girls - they were so cheap, they were all his family could afford to hire. The accident didn't bother him.

"It's okay," he said. "No harm done. A little water never hurt anybody." He watched the girl work, trying not to make it too obvious that he was staring. It didn't help that this girl was wearing quite revealing clothes. Oh, James, you sick pervert... He listened as she commented on his work.

"'Hard to navigate?'" he snorted. "It's damned well impossible! No man alive has been able to safely navigate those reefs and sail out. But if you're ever in a bad place, the Rocks are pretty useful for hiding out." He didn't mention why he was studying a map of the Rocks. It wasn't his place to say anything about the Jewel of the Ocean. If it was, the captain would have announced it with the rest of her speech. But as she had revealed her desire to search for it to him in private, he figured she wasn't quite ready to reveal it to the rest of the crew.

"There is one thing you could get me, Ms. Winkie," James said with a charming smile; one that made him seem like he was 10 years younger again. "A length of rope about ten/ fifteen yards long. If you can tie a few knots about every six inches or so, that would be wonderful. And some scrap wood too. It is a pleasure meeting your aquantince, Winkie."

Even Mama has paused in the kitchen, listening to Wink's song. She was stripped down to her bandages and shorts, bootless as well as she scoured every bit of wood she could find in that galley with her impressive brick of wax. By now she was dirty and that hair was hanging about her once-lovely face as she listened to the haunting song rising from the innards of the ship. Sooty fingernails would dig into the wax as a bit of sickness stirred in her stomach as she caught sight of the impressive twin scars stripping its way across her arm. No one ever really got to look at Mama close enough to realize that those scars came in pairs...Such a strange coincidence.

Either way, there wasn't much time for her thoughts to swim in as she was violently knocked from the counter she was standing on precariously, left to lay crumpled on the floor for a while near the stove. Ow. From the stove, courtesy of the smoke-pipe that ran to above deck, she'd hear the captain yelling at 'LeFarge' and 'LeFarge' doing his best to save his own hide. Twice a liar. Not a very good one either...If this captain was worth her words she expected LeFarge to be having the deep six before she could get any squid tales out of him.

There was a secret to being a great liar. Humility. Mama was a clever creature. She'd knew how to play her hand and she knew how to cheat, and the last couple of years had left her slippery as an eel. Be humble. Be under the radar. The cripple at the back burner. Though dutifully, she was up, dusting herself off and leaving that galley with a brisk limp as she heard James request the rope from this Ms. Winkie. Strange thing was that by the time the pretty lass made it to the ladder that lead to the cargo-bay of the ship, Mama was shouldering past her in the opposite direction and a length of rope was simply waiting by that ladder along with what looked like scrap wood and a sack that seemed to be completely stuffed with fibrous bullshit, effectively turning it into a firm pillow.

Not long later and Mama would already be at the rail, her tall thin frame bent over it as she eyed the struck side of the hull. It didn't look bad from up here, but leaving it to the fates surely wouldn't do. Accompanying her were just a few helpful tools she'd borrowed whilst toiling in the kitchens and two rather large disgusting looking buckets she'd run into during her meandering about below. Pitch and some other reisiny concoction. She hoped the pretty singing lass had the brain to bring that sack along as well. It was clear that whatever her position was, she knew all the ins and outs of dirty work on the ship. Her mohawk was practically standing in the front from the mixture of her sweat and soot and wax. Her hands really weren't much better...But there was something just a little charming about the barefoot lass and her soot scuffed face. And that hair, thick as could be despite the fact that it was only a portion of what she once had, lengthy and tangled, catching the breeze as she took a moment to wait for others that might be in on what had to be done. A moment to enjoy the smell of the sea over the smell of soot, wax, pitch, and herself.

Oddest thing yet was Mama wasn't even riled when gunshot sang out over that vessel. She simply stood there watching the side of the boat as she heard a scream. It was enough to chase her Lemur out and up onto her shoulders as it stared wide eyed back towards the entrance to the lower levels, clinging to her sooty mane. She'd simply croon at it and allow her gaze to wander in the same direction as his. That didn't sound good. Lefarge had a really girlish scream though.

Oliver and Val finally concluded their conversation with Oliver returning to the helm. The gentle rocking of the boat was soothing. Val definitely felt that it was time for some alcohol so she grabbed one of her finer glasses and the expensive bottle of ale and set about having a good drink. By the time she was done she had polished off the bottle and was casually relaxing on her bed with Pompey snuggled up on her chest. She was about to doze off when the boat hit a particularly rough patch of water. Feeling the need to do something she gently placed Pompey down onto the bed and got up. She was a bit unstable but otherwise sober. It wasn't until she took a few steps that her eye started giving her serious pain. She tore off the eye patch and placed her hand over it as if to release the pain. She stumbled over to the duchess mirror hanging of the wall next to her bed and drew her hand away to inspect the scar. Even after so many years the thing still caused her pain, the scar was just some puckered flesh but where the cut had penetrated her eye it had never fully healed and now it was an angry red with hints of infection. Damn it, she thought, I can't go losing an eye now. The syrup that she usually used to ease the pain was running out and losing its effect. She needed something some other painkiller and something to get rid of the starting infection before it got worse. While still in front of the mirror she replaced her eye patch, redid the braid that was beginning to look a bit ratty and fixed up her bandanna catching those loose hairs in the process. Deciding she was finally ready to emerge she left Pompey snoring and made her way to the door.

Outside the midday sun was bearing down and she could see the sweat glistening off of the working men's arms and backs of those who had removed their shirts. Everything was in order and she felt a tad bit of pride swell in her heart for the good work that everyone was doing. She even glanced up to Oliver and saw that he seemed to be telling one of his bullshit stories to Duceyae. She made her way below deck to where she had designated the surgery room. In it Azzy was pottering around fixing a few things up. Val clears her throat to get Azzys attention, the girl seems quite startled to realise that the captain is here.
"Oh erm what can I do fer you today Cap'n?" she asks.
"I've been having problems with me eye and I believe it is infected. I was wondering if ye would have anything fer it?" Val was saying as she removed her eye patch. As Azzy inspected it she murmured something about getting to her just in time.
"Now I need ye to hold still for a bit while I remove some of the pus."
The process didn't take long but it sure as hell did hurt but Val wasn't one for whining so she stayed quite although against her will tears did well up.
"Thar you go Cap'n all don," she says also handing over a vile of dark fluid, "if ye drink this each morning it until it's empty it should totally remove any future pains."
"Thank ye." Val said sincerely as she really did mean it. Azzy was a good doctor and she respected her skill. Out of the blue Val asked,
"Do yer care to take a walk around the hull fer a bit and discuss some of yer work?"
"That would be plenty fine Cap'n"
So the two chatted for a bit wandering around the hull and just watching the general goings about. They had reached reached the weapons room now and Azzy was admiring some of the sharper objects.
"This gun over ere belonged to me old captain," she said pointing to an ancient looking gun hung on the wall. "it's got some damn power to it and would kill ye instantly no matter where it shot ya." Val took it down admiring it's craftsmanship. There wasn't much space in the small room with it being filled with barrels of swords and crates of guns. At the back there was also some barrels of gunpowder. Val was standing near the entrance and Azzy was a few feet away from her admiring the swords. Before Val had a chance to put the old gun back up a young lad came barrelling in knocking her over and the gun colliding with the wall. As it hit it managed to fire. The boy was apologising profusely and Val was about to give him a big wallop for his stupidity when she heard a gargled scream from behind. Turing around she sees Azzy collapsed on the floor a bloody mess on her back. The bullet had hit her squarely on her back and had torn through her clothing. Val rushes to her aid. She gently rolls onto her front and sees that there's a hole directly in the middle of her chest with blood gushing out. Her head snaps up to the boy who is just staring unbelieving.
"You idiot don't just stand there go get some bloody help!" she screams at him. In an instant he's gone and she can hear his voice shouting for help. Her focus goes back to Azzy who is starting to cough up blood.
"Hey don't be doing that. Everything's going to be alright. You stay wit me ye hear. You ain't going nowhere you hear! We've only just started this journey. We're going to look fer treasure. You've got to still be here ti get yer share." Val continued her pointless mutterings until the young lad arrived with help. She didn't even notice until strong hands grabbed her shoulders. She looked up to find the ancient face of a native American man. He didn't say anything he just indicated that she should move. Something about those old eyes stopped her from protesting. She gently placed Azzy into the arms of the old man and was going to stay until he made shooing motions with his hands. Again she started to open her mouth to protest but he had that same knowing look in his eye. She left and closed the door. She was drenched in blood and her hands were completely red. She had seen death before, she had caused death before, but never had she seen this. Her hands began to shake and somehow she found a blanket being draped over her shoulders by the young lad from before. There was nothing they could do but wait.

The young first mate seemed to be taking his direction rather well, which he was relieved at. While they were conversing, a most interesting woman had walked by them at least twice. She had a long twisted mane of a Mohawk. He simply wore bandages to cover up her mams like the ladies of the Land of the Rising Sun. She bore numerous scars, one potent one on her leg which was obviously the source of her limp. Finally, her scarred dead eye left bare for the world to see. In all honesty, Johnny was completely........vexed by her. She was unlike anything he had seen. He somehow had immediate respect for her. It was the eye, it was almost like she was daring people comment about it. She didn't let her injuries rule her, she ruled them. He had to know her name. He was staring at her when Marie asked his name. Johnny was about to answer the young lady when the boat suddenly lurched. He braced himself against the ceiling so he didn't move too much. "What in the bloody hell was that?" He said, looking up as if expecting to get an answer. When he looked down again, Marie was gone. He sort of just shrugged to himself. "It's not like it's necessary for her to know my name." He had also noticed that the dead eyed woman was gone. He shook his head off odd thoughts and he walked off to continue his rounds.

He was about to head off to the crew quarters when he heard a gunshot. Not just any gunshot though, an incredibly powerful hand cannon. It sounded of similar potency to the Reaver. It was then followed by a scream. Johnny put on his Quarter Master face and briskly jogged to the source of the gunshot. When he turned the hallway, he spotted Captain Val, hands and clothes stained red with a blanket around her shoulders. One of the Cabin boys was standing near her. Her hands where shaking and her face was one trying to cope with shock. He had seen that look before, so the first accident had already happened and they were barely out of port. If he was a superstitious man, he would say that would be a bad omen. He looked about and found a crate. He picked it up and walked over to the Captain and the boy. He placed the crate next to the Captain and look at the boy. "Lad, stand the mouth of the hallway, would ya? And tell the men that wander by that it's off limits until the Captain notifies them. Also, tell them the Quartermaster said get back to work. There's a good lad." The boy, who's face was rather solemn, slowly nodded and walked off down the hallway. He then turned his attention back to the Captain. The boy was a precaution to any on-lookers, they couldn't afford seeing her like this.....or shirking form their duties. He pushed the crate towards her some more, then placed his hand under her forearm and the other on her shoulder and motioned her to sit down. He looked at her with a rather apathetic gaze and simply stated. "It helps to sit."

He then reached into his black shirt and pulled out a small bag. He then reached inside of it and put the contents into one of her shaking hands. He cupped it there for awhile and then removed his hand and stood up. It was a toffee. He looked down at her, then gave a very quick and very small smile. He then nodded his head in a respectful way too her, then walked off down the hall. As he passed the boy, he placed a toffee in his hands as well. His eyes widened a bit and he raised his head, about to say something. But, Johnny raised his finger too his mouth, as if to shush him. He then continued walking about the ship.

He finally made his way to the crew quarters and he noticed that all of the hammocks were still in crates, he simply sighed. He felt like doing some work. So took the hammocks out of the crates and began to hang them about the room, simply trying to lose himself in work, which he often did.

Val's mind was whirling. What just happened? How many times had she seen death. She had decapitated peoples limbs for gods sake and she had never felt like this before. Every death she had caused was always for a purpose; either to prove a point or for survival. Just the suddenness of Azzys death startled her. At this point in time she didn't care what was happening around her she was too caught up in the memories of just a few seconds before. Without realising it she found Johnny next to her placing a crate for her to sit down on. Thankfully he was taking charge and had ordered the boy away. Alone he rested a hand on her shoulder, the strength in his hand helped calm her nerves. She looked up at him and there was a brief twitch at the side of his mouth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag. Out of the bag he produced a small toffee. He handed it gently to her, nodded and was gone. His quick act of kindness touched her although another part of her was furious that he had seen her at such a weak stage. She sighed and popped the toffee in her mouth, relishing the sweetness. Collecting herself she stood up and regained her composure. Now she just had to wait for the old man to come out with the verdict. She knew that there was no way that Azzy could have survived but there was nothing wrong with hope.

Johnny was busy hanging the hammocks when he heard someone come in. He was going to ignore them when they grabbed the other end of the hammock he had and helped him put it up. It was Marie, the first mate. "Sorry bout walking out on you, but with the crash and all I had to take care of a few things." she said while picking up other hammocks and helping him. He also continued working. "Happens." was all he said. He understood her and was never angry with her. He did admire her for trying to make amends for it, though. "So may I have your name now? Its rather important, that I get to know the crew." Johnny smiled while his back was facing her. "Aye, it is." he said with a hint of a light hearted tone. The smile disappeared before he turned around. "Names Johnny. Most people call me Flintlock Fletcher, though. Or Mr. Fletcher.....or Quartermaster, or sir. Or 'Shit he's coming! Get back to work!'" he smiled a bit after the last one. He hadn't told that joke in far too long. He felt oddly comfortable around the young girl.....erm, First Mate. He believed that they would get along fairly well. "Ye be Ms. Marie Simon if I heard ye right, yes? It's good to meet ya." He said with his usual business like tone, but managed a half-hearted smile ofr her. He stuck out his hand for her to shake, as equals.

Well then. It seemed the knife Winkie had used as a child had poked all the way through her skull to the brain. She had the voice of a songbird. And the brain of one too it seemed. The moments ticked by for Mama after the commotion before finally she had enough, and swearing all the way under her breath she made her way right back down, even passing the girl sitting herself on a barrel and leisurely tying knots whilst singing. Again. The back of Agatha's remaining fingers itched to strike across the girls face, but alas, there was work to do and she wasn't in the business of teaching lessons. Atleast the beast that killed her own eye had left her bloody brain in tact. One brisk limp to the ladder and back would fetch the plainly lain out rope she had left for Winkie and the other supplies, Extra wood slung over her shoulder, rope and sack under her arm.

On her way back out, that Winkie was still singing. For heavens sake. They'd all be having a lovely meal of hardtack and gruel tonight, the lot of them. Lefarge would be getting an extra sodden biscuit in reward for throwing Mama about and causing her to have to do THIS kind of work.

James would find his plans to go rather smoothly as Mama had seemingly already instructed deck monkeys on what they should be doing to repair any possible damage, and the supplies were all right on hand. It just took someone brave enough to go over. Normally, Mama would have done it, but the fuming cook had decided that today she owed none of them any favors.

She was back down in her kitchen now, now that Oliver wasn't at the helm, chancing to light the coals and prepare a rather unsavory gruel. Gruel with dried lime powder. Even better. Bitter. As she waited for it to cook she'd be wiping down her arms legs and hair in a bucket of water she was keeping in case of fire, giving herself a rag bath as she cursed lightly under her breath. Eventually she'd get all that hair washed and she'd end up curled in the corner, watching that stove from a pile of burlap and old quilts. Damp and irritated. Alone, except the lemur snoozing on a counter top.

Winikie smiled as she tied the last knot in the rope, she reached over and picked up the bit of scrap wood and headed back to James. "Aye sir I brought what ya needed, I tired my best to make sure the knots were right" she said as she set down the bit and pieces that she was cradling. She walked over and looked around James shoulder "So sir ya think ya found a clear path yet" she asked. While standing there she heard a scream "What in Gods name was that?" she asked looking around the room but not sure where the sound was coming from she decided to shake it off. "So is there anything else ya be need'n", she asked.

Winkie nodded "Aye sir I'd be happy to help ya" after being released from Jame for the moment, she decided to try to find out what the scream was all about. On a ship this size their had to be a reason for it. But when she headed to the captains cabin she was turned away being told she could go in for now. She shook her head and decided to head on the deck. She was tired of being below, she wanted feel the breeze, and smell the salty sea air. She got up on deck everyone was doing their jobs as ordered, she she leaned on the railing watching the waves crash up against the boat humming to herself.

Wearily the Navajo man took his seat opposite Val. His eye's taking in her cabin. He took his time replying to Val not feeling any need to address her until he was ready. Finally he said,

"I be good healer. Many years. On white ship and for village ah. Know many things. Can heal but girl... Az-zay no hope." he was saying as he shook his head.

Val nodded pleased with his answer. There was no foolishness in his voice and she appreciated that after Oliver. She was thoughtful for a moment, before she asked.

"So I will take it that you'll accept the position?" He simply nodded, "Good, good. Now I've reason to believe that your probably a religious man. I need to hold a funeral fer the poor girl and release her spirit. There is no way I be letting my ship be haunted and there be murmurings starting already that her death be a bad omen. Not atta the start'a my journey am I letting these bloody sayings ruin me!" She calmed herself before she continued talking, "I need you to perform a ceremony, I don't care what language ye do it in I jus' need it done. I'll be saying a few words to make sure that there be no more bad omens hangin' ova my ship."

As she finished talking there was a knock on her door. Val pushed her chair back, stood up and heavily made her way to the door. Opening it she found the young lad from before,

"Cap'n, the body's been wrapped up good'n proper."

"Excellent. Go find the quartermaster and first mate. I'll be needing them to haul her up to the deck to give 'er a proper ceremony. I shall be waiting by the helm with master Mau- LeFarge..."

The boy left and Val closed the door. Not moving from her spot she said to the Navajo man.

"I don't even know your name..."

"Seeks-That-Which-Conquers-The-Water" He said matter-of-factly.

"But Seeks is also good." He chuckled to himself and got up. He made his way to Val and she opened the door to him.

"I come when ready."

With that he was gone and Val was left alone. Feeling like there was no point staying in her cabin she made her way up to Oliver but found that he was gone and in his place the relief helmsman.

"Duceyae! Where may I ask is Master LeFarge?"

Seemingly unbothered he grunted his reply,

"Down looking for ze navigator."

"Oh really. Well I shall just have to await his return shall I?"

Duceyae shrugged, just content to take control of the steering.

Now all Val had to do was wait for Marie and Johnny to bring the body up on deck and they could begin the funeral and be get on with their journey. Val's heart did clench only slightly that she had lost one already so early in the quest but grateful that on board was another to replace her. She just hoped that Azzy's death wasn't too much of a bad omen and that with the correct rights given to her body that they wouldn't obtain any more bad luck.

McDonald had gone up to get the monkey's ready on the deck as well, that grin never leaving his face. The rush of the battle, the smell of the ignited black powder, it was scientifically beautiful. He was ordering around some more of the lousy monkeys when he heard a voice roaring over the constant noise of the hustle. MR. McDONALD! Marco turned to see Johnny, and let his grin fall to a small smirk. He didn't want his quartermaster thinking he was mentally unstable now, and get kicked off the ship. That wouldn't be good for his ego, his pride or his wallet.

Mr. Mcdonald. I need you to immobilize that ship, not destroyit. That;s a pirate vessel, meaning there chests are weighted. If the ship goes down, so does anything of value. I know it's difficult, but according to you, you're the best. Marco gave a little sigh of annoyance. More regulations that were in place to keep him from having fun. He could understand the reasons for just wanting to immobalize the ship: All that gold could really help out with new supplies and status. That didn't change the fact that he couldn't destroy the damned thing. But he nodded and received the order, and smiled a little when he mentioned how it was according to him that he was the best. Most pirates that self proclaimed themselves usually sucked horribly, and were bluffing. Marco didn't understand the term bluff.

"So, are your ready to impress me, Mr. McDonald?" Marco matched Johnny's smile in every way. "Always, Mr. Flintlock. Always." He turned back to the one cannon and shoved every man off it to do it himself. Knowing exactly what he was doing, he got the monkeys he just shooed away to measure out enough gunpowder and get him a cannonball. He would only need one. He then prepped the cannon while the get ever closer to the Duchess, and Marco smiled. He aimed his cannon directly at the mast, calculating wind speeds, ship speeds, and a bunch of other factors as he went. He then heard Val roar about how as soon as the cannons go off, they would board. Marco gave a smirk, turned to the rest of the cannoneers and bellowed out his own command.

"Cannons! Aim for the sails! Your accuracy will be recorded by your fellow peers, and I will know if you are lying. You do not have to hit the mast, only try. And..." He waited until the exact right moment, and lowered his spark stick to light the cannon. It was quiet except for the growing amount of hissing, and then a massive BANG! from Marco's cannon started off a chain. True to his word, the shot went right through the largest mast, and it started to crumple under its own weight. He gave a little smirk, and said quietly enough for not many to hear.

"First shot on the Duchess? Better than expected."