Possibly Pirates 2: Curse of the Raksasha

[muketsu_bara]

Downing the drink she had been given, her eyes stayed on the haunted site that was Elkab. Just looking at it made her bones chill and shiver gently. She listened to Raff and James as they spoke about conquering the evils on the isle. She had no doubt that many of them would die when they attacked the demons that haunted poor Richelle. Ye wanted advent're, Lilly, me girl... advent're tis whut ye git, she thought to herself as she leaned against the railing, setting the now empty cup on the railing.

Twigs stared at Elkab for a few moments and then looked over to the crew, smiling softly. We be fightin' fer family, she thought and leaned against the railing, watching the crew. There was a tiny inkling of fear in her mind and she quickly stabbed at it, knowing that if she were to let that fear stay, she wouldn't ever make it back from that isle. Taking a deep breath, Twigs ran her fingers through her hair and rejoined the group. "We be tha best crew. We co'ld do jus' 'boot e'ert'ing," she said.

[Skallagrim]

Cold chill winds whipped across the sea, casting an icy grip aboard the Fledgling and her crew. A voice raised above them as the lad in the nest pointed behind them. Glancing back James was stunned, a wicked blue-white mist roiled and moved in behind them. The sky faded away as cloud seemed to devour it, the water slapped hard against the hull of the sloop.

Gritting his teeth James snorted and turned toward Richelle, when he saw her face, the wane pallor his green eyes narrowed, “If they want a fight lads I say we present our best shot and steel…” Flashing a tight smile to the woman he loved James glanced to Raff, “Get the lads ready my friend…tonight we dine in hell.”

Looking back at the ominous mist, the crackle of energy, small sparks of lighting danced in the low lying thunderhead. Jutting his jaw out, he gripped the hilt of his cutlass. Turning he looked at the imposing gray city, that lay ahead. Slowly the city grew larger and larger as they sailed silently towards it.

With a start James leaped on the railing his hand gripped a line tightly as he strained to see. “Dear Laird….” He murmured as he glanced around his eyes searching for anyone who may have seen what he had. A long shadow stretching across the quay, a shadow that for a moment looked for all the world like an ancient trireme.

Licking his lips, Jams slid off the railing, exhaling slowly he licked his lips and shook his head; he knew that this would not be easy but had he gone insane before the fight had begun?

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Richelle downed her drink, her nerves rattling even worse than years before, as the same ship beneath her feet had descended into the darkness of the caves of pygmy cannibals. Now, it was not just her life, and the lives of her mates and her love at stake, but her very mortal soul. As if she hadn't already condemned it with her actions of piracy. But what would it mean, should they fail and she be devoured, body and soul? Would she simply cease to exist, not even have the presence of self to be thrown down into the depths of the locker? Would she forever live in the bellies of the demons...or even become one herself?

She shuddered at those thoughts, then resolutely shoved them out of her mind as she took a long look at James. Together, they could not fail. Even if they hadn't spared more than a few kind words for one another since she had attempted to leave, and bid him off to a lazy and safe retirement.

Trying to ignore the way that each minute window she saw seemed to house a world of malicious eyes, all trained hungrily on her, Richelle squared her shoulders and spoke to her companions. "Methinks we should go in separate groups...some ta gather what gain they can, and whoever else dares ta watch me lay me neck out for the beasties, eh?"

She managed to pile up a smile, rotating her wrists to warm them for activity.

[Skallagrim]

Hail
Dark Goddess
Knower of Mysteries
Mother who is Life and Death
Dancer adorned with Skulls
Destructive as Fire
Spark of Creation
Sacred Devourer
Sacred Creatrix
Kali Ma
She

Ancient and hoary the voices carried as a whisper across the suddenly still swells. A dark and ominous shadow falls across the Fledgling. Chitterings as hideous and malevolent under currents upon the still air. James froze at the noise, the hairs standing on his nape. Eyes wide he stared at the gray city walls, the open windows leading into the gloom of the edifices seemed to sway and change. Shadows darting and slinking just beyond his vision, mists formed and swirled away along the streets, as if living beings still walked the lost city, unseen and waiting in the twisting darkness.

Licking his lips, eyes wide, James glanced at the others, his voice low, “Get ready lads, we’ve a city ta sack…may the Laird have mercy upon us.” The ship sailed as if guided by unseen hands, slowly, drawing inexorably closer to the stone dock.

[muketsu_bara]

Twigs shivered as the words crawled over her skin, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand straight up. Her eyes lifted from the railing where they had dropped and looked at the city. She couldn't help the gulp that she swallowed as she watched shadows move across the buildings and she took a deep shaky breath. Sliding one of her hands to her waist, she touched the hilt of her sword as if trying to use its sturdiness to comfort herself.

A few moments later, Twigs pulled her attention away from the awaiting city and looked over the faces of the crew she had learned to call family. Studying each of their faces, she didn't want to forget anyone's face if they were to be killed on this raid. Slowly, her gaze made it around the crew and then went back to the city. Steadying her nerves, she took a grip of her courage and pulled her shoulders back, standing straight, ready for anything.

[Jadeling Hawkins]

After what seemed to be months of inching towards the empty shoreline, at last The Fledgling touched up against the black sand of Elkab. Richelle wanted to be brave, and offer to take the first step upon the forbidden land herself. But much to her relief, her pirate brethren did not await formality when there was booty to be had, and the treasure gathering company slipped onto the beach and were heading into the mysterious city before Richelle could even catch her breath to make the offer.

It was at least a little encouraging, and with an amused smile Richelle rolled back her shoulders and prepared to embark on what may have been her last adventure, and was surely a battle for her living soul. Her saber was at her side and her boots were dry. It was time.

Deciding that she had already allowed herself a last look of the beloved deck and remaining crew, Richelle stepped onto the gangplank and hurried onto the beach.

The moment her feet touched the sand, packed hard from eons of pressure from the greatest depths of the ocean, Richelle felt a cool chill take over her whole person. From the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, Richelle felt as if she had quite suddenly been dragged into someone else's dream...and an unpleasant one at that. The platoons of malicious eyes she had felt set upon her as they approached now all seemed to have vanished. No...to have retreated. As if, laughing with fiendish delight, they had retreated to a part of the island to await their meal.

If nothing else, Richelle reassured herself as she rubbed her arms to warm them, then at least that meant that the crew could do their treasure collecting in peace.

Setting her jaw with determination, she set off in the direction that the elders in Gibraltar had suggested: towards the very heart of the sunken city.

[Skallagrim]

James watched in grim fascination as the treasure party left the ship, he nodded to himself as he darted to his cabin. Once there he fumbled through his meager gear until he found what he had acquired in the last port of call. A golden statue of Ganesh, the elephant god of the Hindoo, the remover of obstacles, and the small silk bag given to him by the dark priest he had spoken to. Scampering back on deck he spotted Richelle touching the dark soil of the cursed city. Narrowing his eyes he ducked back in to his cabin and pulled his baldric with his brace of pistols. Pistols given to him by his closest friend, Raff, securing the belt over his shoulder he opened a chest and pulled out his father’s saber from its velvet coffin, holding the blade again he closed is eyes, “Father I thank you for this steel, perhaps I shall see you to thank ye in person.”

Strapping the sheath and frog on his belt, James ran onto the deck and hopped down onto the ominous black soil. The very feel of the soil seemed to sap his strength, his very soul with the evil that coursed through it. Straightening he followed after the woman he loved. The silk bag secured to his belt, the small golden statue gripped firmly, in his left hand. His eyes locked on to the woman who held his heart. He followed her, hurrying to catch her before she got to far ahead of him.

[Irish Wolf]

Raff was among one of the first, although he ended up at the back of the pack of sea dogs, as he was waiting for Richelle and eyeing the city, as he fingered all of his weapons. Not for the first time (or hopefully the last) the Irish rogue could be described as a walking armory. His normal, everyday weapons were in their customary place; three pistols and a dirk thrusted into his sash. Add to those was the officer's claymore, slapping against his left hip, a boarding axe on his right hip, six pistols tied to a long string looped over his next and a blunderbuss. He also had grabbed a few grenados. He carried a powder horn and pouch of pistol balls, although he didn't think he'd get a chance to reload. If it had been possible, he would have been dragging one of the six pounders behind him, with powder and shot to go with it.

Anyone that would have dared to think he was being timorous, would have gotten a fist in they're teeth. A man of timorous actions would not have shot some lobster goons and headed aboard a pirate ship. A man of timorous actions would not have raised a rebel army to throw off the yoke of England from they're homeland. A man of timorous actions would not have dared to play the part of executioner to aid in the escape of a friend. A man of timorous actions would not have leaped into the frothing sea with a boarding pike to be swallowed by a giant shark, pull a friend from it's belly and get a life sucking tooth stuck to his chest. Speaking of that tooth and the scar it left behind, the smooth hairless patch on his chest was prickling and itching like crazy. It was hard no to scratch.

No, it was a combo of being practical and indulging in a few pleasures. They were storming a demon filled city, he wanted as much firepower as he could carry. On the other hand, he liked fighting, he liked guns, he like gunpowder and he could combine all three in this line of work. he had already suffered disappointment when they sailed up to the city. He had all the guns loaded with round or grape shot, ready to smash builds hiding enemy guns or send clouds of lead death into waiting swarms of demons upon the beach. No such luck however.

Watching as Richelle marched past him, Raff fell in besides his friend, ready to defend her (and James when he caught up with them).

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Richelle felt the presence of her two longest-time pirating friends, and something reminiscent of a confident smile showed on her lips. Her stomach was still painfully cold, but with James and Raff beside her, how could they fail?

The first thing Richelle noticed, once her fears had calmed a bit, was how eerily quiet the whole place was. There was the distant sound of pirates receiving their booty, and even farther off the sound of the ocean, but other than that even their footsteps seemed to be absorbed into the place. Even the Cities of Gold had carried the sounds of animals shrieking in their abandoned homes, and birds calling challenges at one another. But in Elkab...silence.

"Are ye ready for a grand adventure then, me boyos?" Richelle asked of her friends, partially just to relieve the quiet. She adjusted the collar of the coat she wore to better keep the cold from her neck, and chuckled quietly. She chose not to mention that it might be their last one together...that went beyond saying. "Raff, wot'll yer mum say when she hears where ye've taken yer brother? Me own mum'll cast a kitten when she hears where Lucky Jimmy MacLeod 'as lead me."

Richelle shot James a teasing grin. If anything, she had been the one to lead him to this dire place. But if the two years when he had been in the gaol had been any hint, her mother would hardly see it that way.

[Skallagrim]

Crunch, crunch, crunch…their footfalls seemed to echo loudly against the stark, barren ruins. Even though the sky overcast with an odd haze, everywhere they could or would look it seemed as if shadows moved and swayed. In the darker recesses of doorways or windows, the perception of movement was unmistakable.

“Well if there be monsters anywhere on the Laird’s earth, it be here I’d wager.” James said dourly as he paused a moment staring at a cavernous doorway. Glancing at the others he opened his mouth, about to tell them what he had seen, but thought better of it and resumed his walk. However the sight of a large cat-like being, glowing green eyes and a wicked grin upon its face, naked except for a loin cloth, a nasty dagger gripped in a massive paw.

Darting shadows and flickering lights seemed to stay ahead of them, movement at the corner of their eyes. Inhaling deeply, James gripped his sword hilt and licked his lips; a low rumble echoed somewhere ahead of them, as if a large stone door was opening. “Perhaps we shall tea with the lairds of this land?” He said jovially. However inside a sinking feeling swirled about his stomach. This would be the hardest fight of their lives, clearly there was more at work here than mere stories and hidden beasties, there was real evil.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Deep in the hidden tombs a form stirred and shifts. Slowly the obsidian eyelids fluttered and flickered open, the umber glow from the large eyes indicated a malignancy that spanned eons. Painfully a long arm shot upward into the darkness of the tomb, to grasp the edge of the granite sarcophagus. The audible exhale of trapped air, which had been compressed in lungs that had not been used in millennia, filled the silent chamber with the sounds of life long since forgotten.

Rising, the feline headed creature peered around the area, the umber eyes flaring and casting off a glow that shaded the hideous muzzle, highlighting the eerie creatures visage. Long, lean limbs touched the cold stone floor, the talons screeching against the hard surface as the toes gripped and eased slowly, testing the strength that had been unused for so long the creature feared the limbs would collapse.

The wrap that circled the lean waist of the creature swished slightly as he moved towards the large door that had been blocked with stones of immense weight and size. Standing before the stones Akram placed long fingered hands against the stones, testing them, a odd little purr escaped the black lips as the being looked at the frame, running his fingers along the edges, then with a growl that filled and echoed through out the tomb, Akram leaned against the stones.

The muscles coiled and flexed as they exerted strength that had lay dormant, slowly the stones inched backward, dust dislodged and floated in the air, streaming from the edges they had accumulated over the centuries. Then with a groan of protest the stones gave way as the block slide and tumbled backward, the black from that followed it keep up the pressure until the ancient air of the tomb was greeted and carried by the winds of the lonely isle. The sunlight cast its muted light on the newly revealed tomb, and the dusky skinned, feline headed man that stood in the gloomy entrance, breathing in the hot lung scorching air.