Bjorn Sturmgard

Former "Prince of Pirates". Norwegian.

0 · 212 views · located in Port Royal, Jamaica

a character in “Isles of Fire”, as played by unilith


Bjorn Sturmgard

Weapons: Norwegian Navy two-handed boarding axe, one .60 Caliber long-pistol, A long-knife ( 14-inch blade, 5 inch handle) and a boot-knife.
Combat: Apt brawler and boxer when unarmed. Uses his own unique axe-fighting style, blending traditional-medieval style with movement more suited to a rocking ship.
Age: 32
Height: 6'2'' Weight: 210 lbs
Current Status: Sea-faring mercenary. Jumps from Freeport to Freeport working for various pirate crews and freelance vessels.
Important: Last surviving member and former captain of the "Grey-wanderer" Norwegian pirate-crew.
Traits: Hardened, loyal. Wants to get close to others, but is hesitant.
Location: Port Royal, Jamaica.

Hidden Talents: Speaks fluent English and French.


So begins...

Bjorn Sturmgard's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yao Niang Mingzhu Character Portrait: Alistair Graw Character Portrait: Bjorn Sturmgard Character Portrait: Sir Frederich Owen Trenchfield

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#, as written by Gizibae
Madeline Buckley had been the woman to go to when woes were too much, and life was too little. She was a hardened soul with a heart of gold beneath a leathery hide and silver spun hair that was reminiscent of matted spider webs. Not to mention an infamously crooked smile, complete with a few rotting teeth. Infectious as it was jilting. Quite plainly, and as most tavern goers would state -- Ms. Buckley " Weren't right in the head" most days. This was only because she had chased off more than her fair share of lowlife criminal types for not paying up with a stewing pot in one hand and a dagger in the other. Image

" Are ya deaf? Move yer arse. " Madeline hissed at the big man, before he bowed his head and turned on booted heel before spouting off " I weren't gunna hurt her. Just 'ave a lil fun. " It was amazing how the woman had been able to put even the biggest threat in his place. For now, Yao was content to have her break and plopped down on the nearest chair. Hazel hues filled with wonderment had quietly whisked around the tavern, mindful of all the newcomers. She had never seen so many different faces in one setting. All intriguing, especially the tall woman who had just sauntered in. " Nice to see ya, Alis. " Ms. Buckley chimed whilst brushing by.

Whether or not leaving the mainland for this was a good idea was still yet to be discovered, and she was still delightfully unaware of the danger surrounding her every day. After all, princesses were meant to be hidden away. Admired from afar, and married off later on. One might have been able to tell by the attire she wore, if the fine silk had not been tattered and dirtied from fights previous. It would seem that she was decidedly hidden within plain sight.

Though, it was painfully obvious that she was being used and even if she knew, it wasn't as though she would be able to convey the words. Ms. Buckley had slid a warm plate and a spoon in the young woman's direction which had received a look of slight confusion from Yao. Slender digits were quick to entwine with the foreign object as reticent contemplation and curiosity overtook those China doll features. Captain Connor had only fed Yao what had been readily available on the ship, in limited portions. Finger foods like stale biscuits and spoiled goods. One could only wonder how she wasn't dead yet. Hunger had begun to creep into the woman's stomach and it wasn't long before she had dug in, no longer infatuated with the spoon...Fingers would do.

Another fight had broken out near the bar counter, a bloody one at that and Madeline was back to taking care of business, leaving Yao to her own devices.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yao Niang Mingzhu Character Portrait: Alistair Graw Character Portrait: Bjorn Sturmgard Character Portrait: Sir Frederich Owen Trenchfield

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Whether or not Madeline Buckley was a sweetheart was a matter of debate on some ships, but Alis was not the least doubtful. Having warded off the beast looming over the oriental woman, she moved on to the next fight– a better peace-keeper than most British guardsmen. Alis smiled brightly as she was greeted.

"Always a pleasure, Ms. Buckley," she replied, taking a sip of her beer.

A few of her crewmen had entered the inn by now, settling in or greeting friends in the corners. She spotted Bjorn by the bar, apparently aiming to finish a bottle of rum by himself. She couldn't blame him– though she loved the sea, and the life that came with their dedication to it, the last trip had been a little much. If not for her gender she would have considered doing the same, but it was an unfortunate truth that she had to keep a clear head in places like these.

Nodding her goodbyes to Jack, she decided it was time the foreigner met a friendly face that didn't want to knock her down. Plus, it wasn't as though she had an abundance of women to talk to in this place anyway. It could make a nice change. She put down her plate at Yao's table and smiled down at the stranger. "You mind if I sit?"

She didn't really wait for a reply, deciding to sit down anyway. Some manners were lost even on the gentlest of pirates. Picking up her own spoon, she gestured to Yao's abandoned utensil and made a movement– showing her how to use it. "You scoop it up," she said, doing just that with the stew in front of her. "Better than getting blood all over your food."

She paused for a moment, only now realising that she might be intruding. "I'm Alis," she said. "What's your name?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yao Niang Mingzhu Character Portrait: Alistair Graw Character Portrait: Bjorn Sturmgard Character Portrait: Sir Frederich Owen Trenchfield Character Portrait: Petra Miller

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The ale stood still as a lake in the tankards held firm in Petra's hands as the sudden crack of a table breaking sounded from behind her. She sidestepped between cheering men and nearly slipped up on a puddle of the drinks she had gone through the trouble of pouring the bastards. She was going to have hell cleaning that up while they were all passed out and snoring. As she moved through the crowd she was frisked by the hands of pirates looking to score gold or a feel but she never even flinched, even when the prying was more forceful. At last she slammed the tankards down on a table and put one hand on her hip, blowing a lock of dark hair from her eyes.

"Anything else I can get you gentlemen?" She said, her voice either naturally or intended to be provocative. There was the crunching of a man losing his teeth as her full lips turned up into a forced, almost sarcastic smile at the two men in front of her. They merely leaned out with wide eyes to look around her to the spectacle. She rolled her eyes and finally looked over her bare shoulder to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The young and bloody foreign woman was happily chugging down a drink and Petra gave an exasperated sigh. The fighting had been going on for the past week and Madeline hadn't lifted a finger, so it was OK to let it slide, right? "... Dinner and a show. She's spoiling you, breathing that heavy without a charge..." Petra turned her head back to the distracted pirates with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not so generous." She gestured with a slender yet calloused finger to hand over the coin, but they didn't notice. "Boys..."

Her sensual voice earned more male attention than intended, and many who were near her turned their heads and did a double take before having their attentions snatched back up by the next challenger approaching the foreigner. The men sat in front of her both looked up and one elbowed the other, who fished out the payment. Petra gave the pile of coins in her hand a scan and flicked her eyes back up to him questioningly. This was definitely too much to be the price of two ales.

"Oh, that's not a tip, sweet'art." The ruddy faced bloke grinned revealing golden yellow teeth. Petra shook her head with a chuckle and her brown eyes softened with false sympathy.

"Sorry champ, I don't do that kinda work no more. But since you know how to flatter a woman, I'll treat you..." she leaned over the table towards him with a smirk and slowly slipped the coins between her generous cleavage. The pirates watched her breasts with hungry eyes and twitching hands and as Petra made the last coin disappear, she winked. "Stay late enough and you might earn a dance. I'll see you boys around." She turned swiftly and sashayed away, her chest heavy with the money she had so blatantly stolen from the man without him even realizing. The ruckus of another fight breaking out called her attention and she groaned and made her way over. One of the local wenches, Mabel, had fallen to the ground with her skirt over her head and two wasted men were going all out over the top of her, punching and cursing. They were going as 'all out' as they could in their intoxicated states, with dis-coordinated footing and swings. Petra gestured for poor Mabel to go crawl under a table and cracked her neck before forcing herself between their sweaty bodies and elbowing them away from each other.

"Ay! Not on the carpet!" She shouted. She kept them apart with a hand on each of their chests and they calmed and backed off. She kicked the carpet aside with a heeled boot and slapped her hands together. "Alright, there you go. May the best man win." She made a bowing gesture, but as soon as she leaned over someone took advantage of it and slapped her ass, which she promptly ignored. The two men whose passions had fizzled since the heat of the moment just looked at each other like, 'should we...?' and Petra snorted and stuck out a hand for Mabel to hoist herself up with. She immediately was assaulted by a bone crushing hug from the young blonde. Over Mabel's freckled shoulder she spied two men sitting at the bar, one oddly well groomed for the type of establishment he was sitting in and another very familiar dark haired man drinking himself into a coma. As she met his eyes, she flashed him a wolfish grin and hugged Mabel back.

"Oh, Petra! Laurie found out I gave better prices to the nicer looking ones and... that happened..."

Petra tore her eyes from the man and looked at Mabel sternly, her mouth set into a firm line. "Be more careful with that, will ya? It's more likely you're the one that ends up getting beat on. You're a lucky duckling. You don't screw pirates out of their money unless - well, unless you're like me, and I am exceptionally good at it." She spent some time reassuring Mabel and giving her tips to handle such a situation then wriggled out of her grasp to walk towards the dark haired man when a rough hand caught her arm and she was turned to see Madeline Buckley, the only one empathetic enough to hire an ex-whore.

"Rough 'em up like that, an' when I keel o'er, ya could be running this joint." She praised her, making Petra raise her head proudly. The skin around Madeline's eyes crinkled more than usual as she grinned. "Now, we're runnin' low on the good stuff. Be a dearie and go fetch?"


The sounds of merriment felt worlds away as Petra descended down the steps to the cellar with nothing but a flickering lamp lighting the dark. As she got to the bottom and navigated her way around the barrels, she made clicking noises with her mouth and kept a watchful eye on the shadows. When she saw one move, she smiled and sidled up alongside the barrel the movement came from and stretched out her arm. A furry leg unfurled hesitantly and drew back when it touched her fingers, then came back to her as it recognized her clicks. Seven legs followed and Petra's heartbeat went forcibly calm as the creature's fat furry abdomen dragged along her arm as it made its way up to greet her. Both she and the spider froze as two hands grabbed hold of her hips. Petra's fear quickly subsided and she groaned.

"I thought I told Mad Buckley to spread the word. Find another hole to pleasure your cock with." The stranger took no heed and pressed up against her and her face turned stony with annoyance. "Keep doing that and I'll jam it down the end of your gun barrel. How's that for blowing a load..."

"Shut up. Yer kidding me, right? Came all this way looking forward for ya, and you've decided you're too good for it?"

Petra tilted her head and scrunched up her face, which her giant spider was climbing up over. "Allan?" Oh great, a regular. She sighed. "Whores come and whores go, don't cry over me. Now, Leanne. Leanne's been selling herself short lately, a bit too desperate for quick coin if you ask me. She's worth so much more. She's still fresh, only been rooted twi-"

"I don't want Leanne, I came here for you." His grip tightened and he held her wrists, forcing her over a table. Petra snorted and blew the chunk of disheveled hair out of her face.

"Worried about her experience? You do like a woman that can move. Makes sense when you're as lifeless as a dead fish." At that he grabbed her hair and shoved her face down, but unbeknownst to him, she was smirking against the cold wood of the table. Without warning, a furry ball shot up his arm and latched onto his face and Petra raised up to take up arms - her weapon of choice being the mop leaning on the wall next to her.


The fight took less than thirty seconds. Getting the barrel up the stairs was much more strenuous, but she was tougher than she looked. Scratch that, with her defined muscles splattered with blood that bulged as she hauled the barrel up each step, she looked exactly as tough as she was. She dragged the barrel to the middle of the tavern and grabbed an axe to chop off the top, yelling, "Drop a coin in the barrel and grab a pint!" Madeline huffed from the bar and made sure the pirates followed through. After all, these people weren't too familiar with the trust system. "I'm going on break." A scuffed up Petra informed the woman. She caught a glimpse of Alis talking to the foreigner while she was making her way to the bar and shot a flirtatious wink at her before looking back to see... that Bjorn was no longer sitting down drinking and a fight had broken out at the bar. Again.

"I..." she seethed, "I am going to need a bigger mop."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yao Niang Mingzhu Character Portrait: Alistair Graw Character Portrait: Bjorn Sturmgard Character Portrait: Sir Frederich Owen Trenchfield Character Portrait: Petra Miller
  1. possible wrong location

    by Smokescreen
  2. Nah, I gotcha.

    by Gizibae

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To Frederich the Laughing Harpy was an enjoyable reprieve. The amount of passion residing within, was intoxicating. It was a shame were it up to the navy and indeed all of England places like this would cease to be. The freedom to answer to no man, to keep what was earned was to go back to the idiom of antiquity. Often Frederich thought of his half-brother who was removed from his family’s station and wealth to make his own way as a merchant sailor and eventually founding a small shipping company -much to his father’s chagrin. Frederich even sailed with him as escort to the Orient, seeing the lands of Nippon and Corea, the magnificence of the Hindustani and Qing empires only to come back from that adventure to England, changed, dampened even by the dreary tableau before him.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice a man approach him and clap him on the back. "Were I a Dane, you’d be dead," Said Marcus Cook. “Our Christian Lord, you’ve thinned out Freddy, like a street urchin or whore fed only on wine and Papist contempt.” Trenchfield turned to meet the man who had been his friend since college and through a war with the Spanish, now with the Dutch. Captain Marcus Cook was tall with fierce Prussian blue eyes and a forced smiled. “Aye, thin to be sure, hard life as a ship’s captain not so much, as I see captaining a clerk’s office. Though, I do admit the paunch and pallor of a family drunkard suits you well.” The two men laughed and shook hands. “Thought my engagement with you and yours was tomorrow morning Marcus?” Trenchfield asked. “Is the admiralty so eager to meet me they’d have me here?” Cook shook his head, frown and ordered two cups of rum from the bar maid paying with two reals. “Coin of the realm, this. Spanish money it pains me, but this is the way of things.”

The man paused, took the two cups and placed one in front of Frederich. “The way of things…I guess there is no tender way of saying this but to speak it plain. They are taking the sea away from you Freddy, your ship will be repurposed, guns sent back to England, your crew spread to other ships. You of course will be promoted, perhaps even given a lordship over the Carolinas. I would not hazard to-“

Frederich held his hand up. “Please stop your prattle and tell me true, who I offended so? That instead of a duel they would strip me of all I am?” Marcus looked slapped. “Stripped you say? Only you would see promotion and an estate as a slight. This war is not going well and since you were a part of taking West Africa from the Dutch and skirmishes with the Spanish on at least five occasions. Hell, you even sank the galleon Tigre di Dia. Frederich, they want you planning; they want you in front of a map not in the middle of sea.” He said. Trenchfield saw it was clear that his decision was already made for him, his life changed by the whim of some Lord in York who only ever saw the sea in a painting. He had a choice, rather he had freedom to choose at the very least. “I refuse.” The man said. “Refuse what, orders? This is not a request from an un-loved aunt, but from England herself, man. You can’t refuse!” Marcus said. “Nevertheless, I do” He replied.

“You do this, you are renouncing your commission and will never be on a ship again, they may even decide to clap you in irons. Stop being a child, Freddy and wait.” Marcus said. “Weight broke the horse’s back.” Trenchfield said, getting up to leave when the other man grabbed him. “You will not leave me with a quipped pun you bas-“ The once Captain, once Knight of the Sea, Sir Frederich Trenchfield turned, breaking the man’s grasp and punched him. Marcus stumbled back, leaning against the bar, his mouth a silent ‘O’ of surprise. Frederich took the man’s purse from his belt, breaking the throngs of leather and dropped it on the bar spilling the coins. “Drinks are on him tonight since he so rich in friends he could lose one." Trenchfield took his cup and a bottle of rum, moving towards an unoccupied corner he bumped the leg of the table of the Oriental pugilist now joined by another woman. "Apologies, ladies." He muttered as he continued on.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bjorn Sturmgard Character Portrait: Petra Miller

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Petra watched the fight, battling to stay still and keep out of it. Though she really, really did want to get in there and help with grinding the man's wooden teeth into sawdust (the bastard had been breathing down her neck the last couple nights), weapons had been drawn and Bjorn was much more experienced than she, anyway. All she could pray was that they didn't get anything on that bloody carpet. Bjorn won, of course, and walked right past her to the exit. She looked back at the scene of carnage at the bar and thought about how much she was going to have to scrub it later before she walked over to it in long strides and yanked the dagger out of the howling man's hand.

“You're not welcome here,” she hissed as he lumbered away covering the gaping, bleeding hole. She glanced down at the sad sight of the broken bottle of rum Bjorn had been drinking and sighed, sliding over the bar without care for the man's blood on her skirts to fetch a new bottle.

She ran out of The Laughing Harpy holding the bloody dagger in one hand and the bottle of rum in the other. Her head whipped around in search for him when she spotted the man, about the size of her thumb away, walking down on the beach. She hitched up her skirts with an arm and took off sprinting after him. As soon as she hit the sand, her heels sunk in and her sprint was reduced to a fast waddle.

“Hey!” Petra shouted out after him as she ran, “Hey, you've forgotten something!” When she caught up to him she bent over, slightly short of breath. “Can't – can't have you come and go without a single hello, can't I?” She coughed and raised up, holding out the bottle of rum with a wink. “Here, on the house. Compensation for dealing with blaggards.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yao Niang Mingzhu Character Portrait: Alistair Graw Character Portrait: Bjorn Sturmgard Character Portrait: Sir Frederich Owen Trenchfield Character Portrait: Petra Miller

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Alis's friendly face grew into a wide smile as at least one of her messages seemed to go through. "Yao," she repeated, hoping she was getting the pronunciation right. She kept her hand on her chest where she'd gestured when giving her own name, and made something between a bow and a nod. Alis had served with her fair share of foreigners, both as a pirate and a whaler– hell, the amount of Norwegians you ran into as a whaler you'd do as well speaking that language as any other. That said, there were few times she'd run into someone so obviously unfamiliar with the English tongue as Yao. It only further cemented the unnerving thought that she wasn't showing off her fighting skills voluntarily. She shoved the last of her stew in Yao's direction, thinking the girl probably wouldn't turn down some extra food, and blinked in surprise as the table rattled. She looked up to find a somewhat out-of-place man apologising for the intrusion. She'd picked up his voice a moment before, though she hadn't been listening– but it was clear he was having a bad night.

"That's all right," she replied as he continued toward his corner. With a slight turn, she saw another man by the bar– Northern European, possibly– looking after him with an indignant expression. His hand was on his face, and the men in his immediate vicinity was looking at a purse nearby him with increasing interest. She was distracted by the sight of Petra, who she hadn't noticed earlier, and answered her wink with a grin, before she turned back to Yao.

Alis wouldn't even manage to open her mouth before another fight broke out. She closed her eyes, shaking her head with a chuckle. She failed to noticed that the fight involved one of her crew members, so focused on what she was going to say next, otherwise she likely would have left Yao then and there.

"You," She gestured to Yao, "here?" she gestured to the place around them. She then shrugged with an inquisitive look. "How?"