Jason Bloodstone's Story

MIS'FORTUNE SHIP LINK

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Aaahh~! The grandest ship out there. It's sails as black as the night sky, it's body built so thin that it cuts through any waters.And the skies are so blue they are! How does Cap'n Ron ever sail such a ship on his own? Easy enough said, the ship is alive. The crew members are merely just items to pass his time. This ship will creak and the ship will weep, but it never talks or eats. An amazing ship it is, but cursed indeed. A ship and man so evil that hell itself spat them out and never ask for them to return. Cursed forever on the seas, lost in the waters. Some say it is to be said that once you see the ship, you yourself will be cursed.

That very ship now rest at the back docks of the Caribbean, sitting and waiting for the crew members to arrive, but what no one knows is that ship is the legendary Mis'Fortune. Each crew member was picked out personally but Cap'n Ron himself. Cap'n Ron himself even written each member to his crew a Deed to work on his ship until death. Any of them who cross him or try to run away, will be killed by his very own hands. Don't think for a second that just because he won't leave the ship, means he won't go out and kill you. No is to see these Deed's only the crew member giving it is allowed to see it. And if you were to show anyone other than yourself of what is read on it, that person will get the poison eyes. Poison sent to the eyes, making them black and painful. All part of the cursed Mis'Fortune, only the crew can know about it.

And now it waits, waiting for the crew to arrive.

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(Gladis isn't here so I will just start! Please do excuse her absence! I will have her just wing it. Also let's just say for now that she is here with you waiting at the docks.)

Despite the clarity of the day and the rather pleasant weather all-around, the ship seemed to dominate the entirety of the back docks, black sails blotting out the clear blue skies. No ship, Mortimer reasoned, had any right to be as ominous as this one, the creaking of wooden boards as the vessel swayed in the ocean current overwhelming the sound of gulls and the gentle lapping of waves against the docks. Which is why, when the boardwalk suddenly fell against against the dock with a resounding crash, Mortimer nearly jumped out of his skin, clutching his bags even closer to his person, especially when, despite everything, no one appeared on board, the ship's deck just as empty as it had been before.

"Mon dieu," He breathed, resisting the urge to cross himself purely out of habit. That was when others became to arrive. These people, he noted as they passed by, were pirates. Not just pirates, but pirates. The first to arrive had a swagger in his step and a tongue as sharp as the blade he carried, the threat easily rolling off of his tongue. If the rather specific threat concerning 'his' kitchen meant anything, this man was just the cook, and if the cook was this volatile, well, Mortimer was dreading the reveal of the rest of the crew. The next to arrive was a pair, the woman dressed in such a way that he was sure would make his mother back home have a conniption and make Renee green with envy. As for Mortimer, he averted his eyes because despite how many years he'd been away from France, women exposing themselves like that still managed to surprise him.

"Didn't expect a women to be apart of yer crew did yew?" Her words sounded smug to Mortimer's ears, as she traipsed onto the ship, the boy following behind with only a shrug. In actuality, he didn't care if there was a woman on board or not because she wasn't a lady- she was a pirate and he'd learned from experience that there was a monumental difference.

Thought others began to arrive and boarded the ship without even a split second of misgiving, Mortimer hesitated near the gangplank, unwilling to take that final step that might indeed seal his fate. These people- they craved the life of a pirate, would probably be thrilled to be a part of the Mis 'fortune's legacy if this was indeed that ship. As for the Frenchman, well, he wasn't quite sure if he even had a choice in the matter and-

The figure falling from the crow's nest dragged him forcefully from his thoughts, wide eyes now intent on the child- well, young man- plummeting to the ship below. A noise of surprise was caught in his throat and he only watched the scene unfold from the docks.

Anita listened as Ron made his introduction to the crew. It would appear this reckless, well-dressed young man was the captain. He was not what Anita had expected the infamous Captain Ron Hingsty to look like, but she knew from a lifetime of observation that looks could be deceiving. The darkness in his tone when he dared anyone who doubted his identity to leave made it clear that in all actuality leaving was not an option. She did not have to be told twice to follow orders. She slung her fiddle case over her shoulder and quickly boarded the ship. She went to stand by the railing, not quite sure what to do for the moment. She watched as the others boarded the ship, and waited to receive any orders, or to play a song of departure if one was called for.

"I guess you need a Master Gunner." Said Roland as he walked toward the Ship. "My name Is Roland Panda Benny Fry Tucker, most call me Panda or Roland. I am an Expert in Weapons and repairing, so, Whom here has Rum?" Roland sat down with a bottle of Rum and his Prized Item, the Panda. He started to tinker with it. "So, who are all of you?"

"Cabin boy is a way better job then Gunsmith, Trust me, Everyone yells at ya if your a Gunsmith, plus the Spanish like to Raid the Damned place. Also, Nice to met you, Boatswain." Roland tossed the rum and tinkered with another gun. "So, where's the Cap'n?"

Roland got Very bored, and he Almost never gets bored. So he looked around and found a book, Titled The Kraken, so He skimmed the books first pages and got Interested. It was about a Young man and his brother, both fishers whom where poor, In the same time a Bounty for a Sea monster was Warranted. The Bounty? About the amount you would find in a lost golden chest. So the Brothers started for the Monster Known as the Kraken, a giant Squid that sank whole ships, eating the Crew and Taking all the loot to the bottom of the Sea. 3 days past and the brothers where lost out in the sea. The one brother, lets call him Jake and the other Blake, said they would never find the Monster. Blake started to wonder if I was a real Monster or just myth. Until that night. . .

Blake woke up to the sound of loud water splashes. He then saw the Kraken, A huge Squid with its Tentacles grabbing the boat. Jake woke up and was Terrified by the sight. He then tossed a Lantern at the Beast. The Monster grabbed Jake and Drowned him, Blake was Angry, and sad at the same time. Blake grabbed a fishing pole and swigged the hook on the Monster's eye. He pulled. . . and the Kraken Bleed to death. Blake Returned to his home town with the Monsters eye and Claimed the Reward, Only to put all the money in a Chest and sink it to the bottom of the Sea with his Brother and the Monster.

"Well, that was a good book. . . . . . how is everyone doing?" Roland put away the book

(Sorry I fell asleep!)

Seeing as everyone is lost on what is going on. Let's just say that everyone is on the ship now and we set sail. Okay I will take it from here. OKAY, the only part is that either you believe I am Cap'n Ron or not. You pick. We are in the ocean now. And everyone is now attending their duties on the ship. NOW NO MORE BEING CONFUSED. Get to know your crew mates. as of right now, Ron is in his Cap'n chambers.

The beginning of the journey found Mortimer exactly where he wanted to be; stationed at the helm with his two bags piled together beside him. Of course he could have tucked them away in the crew's sleeping quarters down below, but he trusted his new crew-mates as far as he could throw them which, he reasoned, was not at all. This, though, the feeling of the wooden wheel beneath his calloused hands, the distinct scent of salty air brought on by a steady breeze, this was familiar, almost comforting if he forgot where exactly he was and the ominous feeling lingering over every plank and every board of the ship.

In the end, he'd reluctantly made his way up the gangplank, following behind the real pirates at the beckoning of their apparent captain. He was just a boy, really, dressed to the nines in an elaborate costume, and going by the name of the demonic pirate captain that haunted the dreams of all who heard his legend. Logically, Mortimer should have been convinced that this was all a sham, a boy from a wealthy family running off to play pirate, taking up the name of Ron Hingsty to boost his own credentials. Then again, logically deeds don't force innkeepers to claw at their eyes and people who fall off crows nests don't make it and certainly don't land on their feet with nary a break or sprain to show from it. Still, in the end, it wasn't as if Mortimer had a choice. It was starve to death as a homeless scoundrel at the port, perhaps lingering a few years on whatever he managed to scrape together, or join a ship that was either headed by the most infamous pirate of all times or a spoilt boy who would hopefully keep them alive. That, in the end, was the driving force for him to climb onto the ship with the others. This wasn't what he wanted, but it was a necessity.

The Frenchman hadn't participated in the getting to know you conversation, instead finding his way to the helm and prepared to set sail as other bustled about, either going about their duties or familiarizing themselves with their new home. This part would be easy, brilliant navigator or not. He knew from stories and his own experiences the waters surrounding the port like the back of his hand, every hidden rock avoided without a second glance, the boat carried by both the wind and a current pulling them out to sea. The gulls were calling overhead, their tune adding to the soft background noise of the sloshing waves and the natural noises of a ship sailing out to sea.

Then, the strains of some melody he'd never heard before began, the fiddle music intertwining with the natural melody of the ocean in such a way that Mortimer was reminded why musicians were so well-liked on ships. His boot-clad foot tapped to the tempo, a little tick of his developed after hearing performances both in grand halls and in private recitals while growing up in France. Mortimer spun the wheel idly with one hand, the other pulling his compass out of his shirt to allow it to guide him until the port was far behind them and they were officially out at sea, surrounded by blue ocean waters. He hadn't gotten his orders yet, no destination to speak of, but away seemed like a very good idea indeed.

The tempo was changing, but Mortimer paid it no mind, foot still tapping, unconsciously changing to match the beat. It was just background noise now as he kept his eyes ahead him on the blue ocean waters, occasionally glancing at the compass tied around his neck if only to avoid more populated shipping routes. He didn't particularly want to tempt fate and risk running across a naval vessel or any other ship that thirsted for pirate blood. The crew of the supposed Mis 'fortune they may be, but he hardly thought that they'd fare well as a crew given that they'd only known each other for upwards of one hour or so.

He was so enraptured by his duties that he didn't notice the fiddle music trail off at first until a voice broke into the soundtrack of the sea. It was the fiddle player, one of the women who'd somehow gained or been cursed with(he wasn't actually sure which it was at this point in their voyage) a position in this mysterious crew.

"No, not a stranger to music," He agreed, glancing at her but not turning fully to face the fiddler. "You certainly know how to play." The compliment was curt but honest if only because he'd been surrounded by so many talentless musicians while at port and someone with the ability to pull a decent melody from their instrument was a welcome surprise. However, the musician was distracted by their sour-faced doctor and Mortimer returned his full attention to the helm. That is, until a shrill shriek rang out on deck. He let go of the wheel just in time to see the captain's sword pull across the first woman's throat, the one who'd sashayed onto the boat with flirtations already falling from her lips, the blood spraying like a fountain, coating both the captain's face and the deck beneath them. Mortimer froze, eyes wide in horror as her body fell to the planks beneath her feet, wound still oozing between the cracks, spreading slowly and painting the wood of the deck. Then, as if giving an encore to his performance, the captain broke the girl's companion's neck with a simple twist of his hands, the sickening crunch making him involuntarily gag. He'd seen death before in many forms, but never like this.

Any doubt that had been in Mortimer's mind of who this boy really was was instantly dissolved in those few moments. No simple teenager could accomplish that, would even think to do so without a valid reason. No, that level of carnage, of bloodlust, the lack of regard for human life added with everything that had happened since he'd received that damned deed the day before exposed the truth. This was no mere boy; this was Captain Ron Hingsty, the demonic pirate of legends, and now- now Mortimer was part of his Hellish crew.

He felt ill at the revelation combined with the senseless carnage he'd just been forced to witness, the two bodies still on the deck where they'd fallen, the blood from the girl still flowing even in her death, but now only at a trickle. The worst part was the reaction of the crew or lack there of. Some watched on in a mild sort of shock, but continued about their duties afterwards without so much as a gasp or a stare of horror. Their illustrious Captain had chosen his crew well if this was their only reaction to the two brutal murders of crew members in quick succession.

"Putain de merde," He groaned and only just refrained from crossing himself as none other than Captain Ron Hingsty retreated back to his rooms as if nothing had happened at all. He took a deep breath, composing himself and schooling his expression before turning back to the wheel. There was nothing he could do now except carry out his duties or risk being the next victim of the Mis 'fortune.

So, naturally, when he felt a finger tapping at his shoulder, he gave a little jump, whirling around and half expecting the disturbing smile of their Captain and a sword to the throat. But, no, the face was much more pleasant to look at in that the person did not look like they were about to murder him. He couldn't quite tell if they were a girl dressing like a boy or a particularly feminine young man, but decided that he didn't really care at this point.

"You would be correct... Ezra," He said with a nod, stepping away from the wheel to allow the pilot to their position. At least that was one less thing for him to do. "Call me Mortimer." It wasn't because he particularly liked the pilot as of yet, but more of a dislike for his last name. Lachance, he decided rather bitterly as he began fishing through his overstuffed bags, thumbing quickly through maps upon maps and books upon books stuffed inside, barely glancing at each one, was much too ironic of a name given his current circumstances. The Southern hemisphere was vague enough, but he was prepared- how the Captain had known this, he didn't even dare guess. It was better to not know. He tugged out three maps, all slightly different but intricately detailed just as the pilot called for the doctor to assist their Captain. Huh. So even a monster like Ron Hingsty occasionally needed medical assistance. Who would have thought?

"Here we are," He said out loud for Ezra's benefit, unrolling the maps and holding up his compass for a glance. "Turn hard a-starboard, then we can continue to go towards the South until further instructions, yes?"