Possibly Pirates: The Seven Cities of Gold

[Tigeress]

Constance hurt severly as the wounded began to flood in... the sign that the battle was over. She seen many men who probally couldnt be saved, and sighed as the work began... sometimes, she wished she was up deck fighting, instead of being a surgeon. The aftermath was always much harder....

Carefully cleaning up the room the best she could, she set to work, removing shots, patching up cuts, and even had to perform rough surgery on a mans split skull. She would be working until the next day probally, when most had surcumed to their wounds.

She was working as hard as she can, her body was beginging to feel heavy.. her breathing even becoming ragged as she worked... this was fine, her own wounds could wait until everyone was safe and well... Her hands working with steady, thoughtless grace, she worked.. saving lives and seeing them be taken from her, in which she would only nod and the body would be removed by some of the crew mates. She had no time to cry, no time to mourn, as she continued to work. She was the last line between death and life....

[Irish Wolf]

"Aye" said Raff, turning to his remaining gun crews that had boarded with James "You heard him boys, toss any surviving wharf rat aboard the Fledgling with ropes around his hands and make ready to sink this tub." Raff leaped over to the Portuguese vessel and nearly slipped in the blood. A good number of his gunners lay dead on the deck. "And lets move our mates to get a proper grave" he call, "Not let them rest with dogs. Help with the bodies Caesar, we can handle the sinking."

The gunner quickly rounded up any breathing Portuguese sailor and bound their hands. They tossed them over to the Fledgling's deck and gently carried their dead mates over, laying them in a straight row. After taking half the powder stores and weapons over to the Fledgling, Raff and his crew turned the Portuguese ship away from the Fledgling and sailed into the middle of the lake. As they removed the powder and weapons, they found Esath and escorted him back too.

Raff pilled all the powder barrels in the belly of the ship and make a thick line of loose powder to the top deck. "Everyone off!" hollered Raff, pulling a lit slow match from behind his ear (the burning end was hanging just above his shoulder). The gun crews climbed down into a boat brought to the ship from the shore. Once everyone but Raff was aboard, the boat pulled away and head for shore. Raff himself touched the burning slow match to the powder and waited. When the flame had reached three quarters of the way by his calculations, Raff leaped overboard. As he hit the water, the powder exploded with the roar of a thousand cannons firing.

The middle Portuguese ship buckled up, as flames and smoke billowed from every port and hatch. The hull then collapsed downward and the Portuguese ship broke in half. The two halves sank quickly as Raff surfaced and started swimming towards the shore.

[NewArthur]

Markus stood stoke still as the last of the attackers were taken into custody. Markus let the cutlass he held fall to the deck, and took a step forward, he pulled him self back up to the top deck and looked around at the carnage, that he had caused, the dead lay strewn around his scimitar still piercing the skin of one victim, he then moved to the rail and looked down were his golden tongue had fallen. He thought he could see a faint glow of it skin, but on a second look it seemed as if it was a person, and they were alive.

Markus moved quickly but to quickly he lost balance and collapsed to the ground, he tried to call people, but with out his tongue he couldn't, then he saw the musket he had been using to keep him self stable, taking hold of it he aim high and fired, with a bang it went off. He then dropped it, and hoping someone was looking he began to point over the edge of the ship towards the water.

He then felt a strange feeling beginning to drift over him. He began to feel drowsy, it seemed the lose of blood, and the adrenaline levels sinking.

"Is this it have i come to the end" Markus thought, he was to die here miles from his home, the highlands of Denmark.

[Drako11]

Caesar was about to protest when Raff began ordering him around then resigned himself to his given duty. "Aye!", he siad saluting Raff, he then began to help haul the wounded below, and the dead to graves being dug on shore.

[Walter Barrecks]

The fruit No Beard consumed was never lethal, however the cure might just be... only time would tell. He pushed the hand with a wet cloth in it away from his face, and pushed off the ground. His body was still a bit sickly, so his movements were drunken and fluid. Even standing still, he was rocking back and forth with the wind. With a couple steps toward the railing near the water, he fell over the side into the blue liquid, letting it surround him, and clean the vomit off.

Awake and alert, William swam back to dye land, and crawled his way back on board. Seeing the Doc working away, he figured it best he stay out of her way, and help everyone else. " 'ey, mate... 'elp mae move this guy ta 'is grave..." No Beard grabbed one of the fallen crewmen, and carried him to an empty hole on the beach.

[Sarithus]

Rand stood up and tossed the bloodied coat of his aside. "Well, that's no use for now." He wiped his hands, picked up his sword and grinned. The battle was over, and everyone he really knew had survived. He headed onto the shore and helped Ceaser. "May I 'elp, my fighting friend?"

[vasa o souls]

Esaht goes and sits in his quarters while cursing Raff for stealing his glory

[Drako11]

Caesar stood from a grave heh ad just finished filling and wiped the sweat off his brow. Rand walked up grinning, "May I 'elp, my fighting friend?" Caesar nodded, "Aye that would be wonderful", he stood next to Rand for a moment looking out across the many graves yet to be filled and the graves already filled. "We have had a great victory today friend...but yet a great defeat. It saddens me to know none of these men will know the riches we have worked so hard for." Caesar sighed and turned back to the task at hand, all he wanted to do now was finish and leave this place behind.

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Sand. It was such an under appreciated thing, tossed about on beaches and islands as though it were worthless. But for the second time in her life, Richelle Oaken realized just how wonderful sand was. It was pressed into her face and clinging to her wet clothes, and she had never been so enamored with pieces of scenery. Last time, it had been the result of a hurricane. This time, it had been a large Portuguese pirate that had caused her to enjoy the feeling of sand smothering her and covering her hair. Her lower half was still hanging in the water, but she managed to crawl up to a point where she didn't have to struggle (except, of course, against the wonderful sand) for air.

It had been a difficult thing. She had felt herself tossed through the air, splash into the water, and she was instantly surrounded by unmoving sailors that had also been sent in. She was trapped in the cold waters, thrashing and splashing as best she could and getting no where. Between the two ships and the blanket of death, it seemed very likely that she was simply going to drown in the bloody water. But she had been filled with urgency, and a general need to see James' face again. So she had kicked and struggled and finally made her way to the surface again. She was far away from the two ships when she resurfaced, and completely out of breath. Somehow, she swam to the shore.

For some time, she simply lay there and gasped and worshiped the sand. Slowly, one of her hands lifted to check for the sack that contained the key to the Fledgling's escape from the Cities of Gold. She nearly sobbed with relief as she found it still safe. And as she Fledgling's crew was burying its dead, she slowly pulled herself from the waves and into a slumped position on the sand. She couldn't hear any fighting, and she couldn't see any sign of her friends. But she did recognize a few of the far off buildings...she was near the city that they had been pillaging. Once she had caught her breath, she pushed herself off of the glorious sand and to her tired feet. She had apparently swum quite a distance, and she was exhausted...but she had to get back to the others.

She started to walk towards the ship (or at least where she thought the ship was), but suddenly stop, turning her bleary eyes towards the temple that James had originally tried to lead her to. The charm needed to be set into place, and until it was they couldn't leave. She had the charm, and the day was dying. So, drawing up every bit of her willpower, she turned and made her way to the temple.

.........

The battle was over, the dead were nearly all buried, and the crew of the Fledgling was far less than it had been when it had left its last port. But as the sun drifted down below the line of golden buildings, a green eyed woman slowly made her way out of the line of trees. She was gasping for breath, clutching at her side and partially covered in sand. Her eyes were half closed and she looked ready to sleep where she staggered. But she approached the grave diggers with great determination, finally dropping to her knees next to one of the as of yet filled holes. "Wh...where is..James?"

[Irish Wolf]

Raff swam through the wreckage and floating bodies. When ever he found a face he knew, Raff grabbed a sleeve or a pant leg with his right hand and pulled them behind him. luckily he only found three messmates. He slowly brought them to the beach and pulled what had been men and friends from the surf. As Raff carried the first man to a grave, Richelle emerged from the trees.

"Wh...where is..James?"

"I'll get ye to him" said Raff, looking up. He walked forward and picked up the half dead Richelle. His own legs and arms felt heavy. Seeing so many shipmates dead weighted heavily on Raff's heart. He stumbled towards the gangplank. "James" he hollered, "I found something ye lost!"

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Richelle flopped her head against her Irish friend's shoulder, her eyes drifting closed. She could assume that James was alive, else Raff would have told her otherwise. This was all she needed to hear, and if Raff hadn't been holding her up...she likely would have simply collapsed onto the beach. As it was, she felt her muscles and her mind relax into a sort of deep sleep. James was well...or at least well enough for Raff to be calling out to him, and that was more than enough to leave her content.

[Skallagrim]

James searched frantically for Richelle. Scouring the ship he found no sign of her. The Portuguese pirates had been transported to the shore and made to sit in a circle. The sound of his baritone voice, on the verge of panic called out repeatedly.

Even though he had been wounded, James shrugged off any attempts to have his wounds dressed. In a wild display James leaped over the side of the fledgling, repeatedly diving among the bodies, searching. Staying under until his chest felt as if it would burst, James only surfaced when he could no longer will his body to resist the urge to gulp in water.

After a while, James dragged himself to shore, as he did so Habbo sneered, "Lose something?" That comment from the tied pirate, made James snarl and spit as he approached him, drawing his cutlass James made his way towards the man, "Hold yer split tongue, yer not fit fer Richelle ta wipe her feet upon yer carcass. Damn ye ta the depths Habbo De los Puentes, may Davy take yer worthless soul!" The cutlass raised as if to slice into the horrible and twisted visage.

Habbo started laughing, he spit at James, landing the saliva upon James' boots, "Bloody Hell! Lucky James, favored among buccaneer crews? Why? You've brought naught but death ta those that be sailin with ye! By all that be holy and unholy James, yer lucky runs dry when it be comin ta others...so ye lost some poppet have ye? A little fluff? Yer current mates know yer a slammakey blackguard? Do they?"

Habbo struggled to his feet, his eyes blazing with hatred as he peered closely at James, "Do they know yer wanted Jimmy? Does yer crew know they be sailing with a dead man? No? Perhaps ye told them they be dead, hung as high as yer own gallowsy self if the Royal Navy be findin ye?" Habbo grit his teeth, and spit in James' face his voice raising high, enough so those even aboard the ship could hear.

"Yer a wastrel Jimmy, the son of a tavern hag, and yer going ta dance before the mast. By the devil's twisted tail, ye better kill me and me mates Jimmy, because by the saints, if ye don't I be sailing the seas ta find ye and burn and scuttle yer mangy hide."

James snarled and slammed his fist into Habbo's chest, forcing the man roughly to the ground. Exhaling James curled his lips and shook his head, "Yer not worth me tainting me steel." Wheeling about James stalked off down the beach. Anger, frustration, fear all filled his body. Where was Richelle?

[Irish Wolf]

"James" called Raff again, "Over here James. I found Richelle!" He set off in a staggered pace as James, carrying Richelle in his arms. His bare feet sunk into the white sand, damp and dyed pink from blood. The bodies of the dead sailors tumbled in the surf and appeared to be frolicking with one another in the waves.

[Skallagrim]

Hearing Raff's voice carry over the winds, James turned and saw the burly Irishman carrying a bedraggled Richelle in his arms. Jame's eyes grew wide, his jaw dropped. The cutlass slipped from his hand, James started running for Raff.

"Laird...Please let her be alive!" James shouted as he ran, no hobbled down the beach, towards Raff and Richelle. As he met the big man, he slid into the sand, pulling Richelle down into his arms, his voice tight as he spoke.

"On me soul's salvation, Laird let her be alive." James murmured as he looked at the face of the woman who was worth more than all the gold in this cursed place. "Poppet? Poppet?" James said as he traced his fingers along her face, her lips.

[Irish Wolf]

"She has no wounds that I can tell" said Raff, letting James hold Richelle and plopping down on the sand, "And was breathing." He sat in silence and stared out over the lake, tired from the fighting and bring his dead shipmate to their graves. The sounds of battle had been replaced by some bird calls and a few brave gulls come to feast on the bodies.

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Deep in the recesses of her mind, Richelle felt a tug from her grasping rest. She heard her favorite sound in the entire world, better than the clink of gold coins or the sweetest of music. A deep voice, one that she simply adored, and made all the better by speaking her name. She felt something brushing against her face...and slowly, very slowly, her eyes fluttered open. The world was a blur, but it finally came back into focus. And there, above her, was her favorite face. Her mouth pulled into a tired smile, and she lifted one hand to gently touch James' cheek. She whispered his name, her voice soft and just as tired as her eyes.

"James...praise the Laird...I thought ye might've..." She closed her eyes once more, reopening them after a moment. She smiled and wrapped her weak arms around his shoulders, emitting a soft sigh. "Praise the good Laird..."

But after a moment, she pulled back, tired eyes full of concern. She saw the blood on his front, and her eyes welled up with tears. "James...ye've...ye be bleedin'..."

[Drako11]

Caesar stood from the last grave, "Well Rand me friend that's it, I'll be driftin on to the vessel", Caesar sighed and slowly drug his bone weary body to the gang plank. He found himself to tired to traverse up the broad board, so he sat down on the edge of the beach, and closing his eyes wearily fell asleep.

[Sarithus]

Rand followed him up, wiping his hands. "A terrible thing fightin' is...but it was necassery. All we can do know is honor our fallen crewmates for givin' there lives to save ours..." Rand shook his head. "I can't imagine the tears there would be if young james, richelle, cap'n elizabeth, Raff or anyone who we had really known well had died. I 'aven't really 'ad time to talk to you much, but I can see your no bratty english man anymore." He reached the deck. "welcome to the pirates life..."

[Drako11]

Caesar rose from his prone position and smiled warmly at Rand, "That mean alot mate, I thank ye."

[Skallagrim]

The remaining crew of the Fledgling slept a cold and silent night. Many of their companions these last few months left on a far shore, buried never to be mourned except for those aboard the Fledgling. The word had been passed that they would leave at dawn.
The Portuguese crew left on shore to fend for themselves. Amid the curses and threats, Habbo stood, an evil glare in his eye as he watched silently the Fledging sail away.

And so they did, the Fledgling sailed through the black tunnel, the rising orange glow behind them, just as the ship entered the tunnel, the charm James had obtain came into play. Behind the Fledging the charm atop the pyramid collected the rising sun’s light and reflected it as a shining orange beam through the tunnel, forcing the little creatures to hide in their holes as the ship bathed in sunlight sailed silently through and into the open seas.

For three long weeks the Fledgling sailed, the remain crew growing closer as they knew they would be entering port soon, rich beyond any wealth a pirate dared dream. The Fledgling sailed into Port Royal, it was forced too, they were out of fresh water and more importantly rum. Docked were two massive ships of the lines, and several frigates. Clearly the Royal Navy was in port. As the Fledgling eased towards a berth, fifty or so royal marines began mobilizing, and moving towards the Fledgling.

James eyed the troops that lined the dock standing at attention as the Fledgling made port. Licking his lips he watched slowly as the officer in the powdered wig made his way along the gangplank, followed by a dozen soldiers.

As they stepped aboard the Fledgling, the officer saluted the Captain, “I have a warrant for the arrest of James Thomas McLeod. The rest of this crew are pardoned and will be granted amnesty.” The man’s voice echoed across the deck, the words settled upon the crew as a huge weight.

Smiling at the crew, the tall officer peered at the faces before him. Waiting a moment he said aloud, “James…I know you are here somewhere. I suggest you come forward or this fine ship and crew shall be hung as pirates.” The man walked to the rail and looked down the lines of the Fledging, his eyes traced the gunwales and rigging. The ship was indeed handled well, and with care.

Turning the man walked towards the Captain again, “I know what this ship must mean to you, and I know that you prize her…I suggest you hand him over or I shall be forced to arrest you all.”

The dozens of men knew that a fight might erupt at any moment, the men on the dock were prepared to charge the ship, those aboard already were prepared to hold the gangplank so the others had access to the deck.

Sighing, the man removed his bicorn and pursed his lips, “James…if you do anything decent in your life, surrender so your mates may live.”

James, who had kept his head lowered, worried his lower lip a minute. Grimacing he stepped forward, “Fine…Abercrombie I want your word me mates are free of your grasp…as a gentleman.”

The man named Abercrombie whirled and zeroed in on the pirate, his voice boomed as a huge smiled crossed his lips, “Ah James…how father would enjoy this sight. His sons standing here, come embrace me little brother.” Abercrombie said as he strode forward and placed his arms around his brother. After a moment several soldiers stepped forward and placed leg irons and wrist irons on James.

James shook his head as he turned to the crew, his eyes filling with tears. He looked at Richelle last, his heart breaking as they marched him off the ship. A brief grin flashed across his lips as he mouthed to her, “I’ll find you.”

As James set foot on the dock, he started singing, his baritone voice carrying over the dock, carried by the winds, fluttering and wafting high over the port that bustled with life.

“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life fer me.
We kindle and char, inflame and ignite,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We burn up the city, we're really a fright,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We're rascals, scoundrels, villans, and knaves,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.”


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