Possibly Pirates 2: Curse of the Raksasha

[tigerz-peace]

The crowded dock was thinning rapidly as people fled from the brawls and the pirates, the sounds of pistol shots and roaring flames following them close behind. Elizabeth, finding her tasks on the port dwindling, began to push her way to the waterline, searching the fishing boats for a small, nondescript fishing boat. Finding it, a single brow lifted over her left slate-grey eye as she pick up her pace to a slow jog, making a beeline (with plenty of dancing between obtrusive objects) for the boat. Dark brown boots scuffing at the bricks and hard packed dirt, Elizabeth jumped across the small gap to land in the long boat with a rattle - crouched low with her face in that of another.

"Ye' are too good fer me Octa', rowin' back an' forth to ferry me 'n' me men."

"Father woul' have my head if I didnae do it, 'Lizabeth." Octavius responded, sitting up and grabbing the oars. Within moments of him sitting up, Elizabeth had released the boat and they were pushing off, away from the small crafts beside them and into open water. Tired arms straining, Octavius fell into the rowing motions as he kept one eye and ear on Elizabeth, and the other on the man-o-war.

As they were nearing the Fledgeling, the pistol shots and cries for the Fledgeling reached the siblings' ears, and with one last burst of energy Octavius had them sliding up beside the Fledgeling, bumping against her - and another boat.

Standing, Elizabeth called up for a rope ladder to be thrown down before turning her attention to the man in the boat. Frowning, she eyed the dubloons, then the man once more, before the thud of the ladder against wood caught her attention. Shifting aside, Elizabeth allowed Octavius to scamper up the ladder and over the railing before she did. As she began to lift herself up, Elizabeth called over to the man.

"If'n ye' wish tah be signin' up with our crew, then I suggest ye' be gettin' her lubberin' self on deck t'await the quartermasters return. If'n ye' aint, I suggest ye move yerself that that sorry craft."

Giving the man no more attention that she could spare, Elizabeth monkey'd up the ladder, slipping over the railing with a curt order to the nearest crew member to deal with the fishing boat, before joining Octavius as he moved through the remaining crew.

"Ye heard the shots boyo's. Get to it! Weigh anchor lads, I shouldnae have to tell you that. Move along, as you like."

[ModelShipwright]

Running his hand across his forehead to swipe off a thin layer of sweat, his attention snapped over to another rowboat as a woman and man climbed aboard the sloop. Not only was he completely befuddled, but angry... Ridley is a man who keeps his image up. He looks as clean as a British-man and as high class as the cloths as he can get his hands on, but in all truth he was a dirt poor scavanger making his way through the world with lies, a man who would turn his back on anyone as soon as a shilling was put into question. Greedy and self-centered he was.

Now not only was Ridley wearing his finest Baron's clothing, a pair of cuffless boots, and a monicle in his right eye. But that pirate girl thought he was going to be signing up for the crew? How dare she! Now Ridley is not a honorable man by any standards, he is more of a chess-player that is bad at his game, but cheats so sly that nobody would notice. Although being that way, he has a temper and can get set off easily, taking his anger out on the closest human nearby, whether their innocent or guilty of it doesn't matter to him.

"You fil'fy wittle rat!" Bickered Ridley. "Ye think a' good man like' me would ever join your li'tle crew? You filfy rats!! Get ba'k here! I'll dice yer' head from tis body and ki'k it int' the blasted sea!" He yelled after her, his anger was almost comical as he stuttered to come up with what he was saying as he went along.

With the help of adrenalin, Ridley jumped about 3 feet in his heavy clothing to the rope ladder. He climbed his way up it and jumped onto the deck, and for the record if he were in his right mind right now he would have hid un the nearest barel. He was a coward when it came to most things, unless of something sets him off. He drew his rapier and turned on the nearest crewman he saw, the man looked a bit sickly and like he was one of those sailors that had really no importance to the crew but to fill up space on the deck and be a cannoneer like most of the crew with little importance.

By the time the man looked back at Ridley, Ridley's long rapier was drawn. By this time, his pistol was loaded as well, and he squeazed the trigger of the pocket sized gun, and with a burst of thick powder the bullet drove its way into the sailor's stomach. The pirate screamed on aweful scream, which was soon silenced after Ridley whipped his rapier in a loop which decapitated the un-important pirate. At this time, Ridley snapped out of it and up until now didn't realise how big of a scene he probably caused on such a small ship (A sloop) packed with other sailors, pirates...

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Her eyes streaming, Richelle fought against every nerve in her body, screaming at her to flee while the fleeing was possible, and waited next to the rail where a rowboat half-full with Fledgling crew was waiting to cast off. She already was wanting to find a different way off the ship, and away from the beloved sloop, but she'd not be getting in the boat unless it held a particular Scottish rogue. The smoke from the town was unbearable; her lungs protested each breath she took. No doubt the crew of the Naval vessel was finding the fight just as unseemly; and with James' trick with the man held up aloft and the threat of the Dread Pirate MacLeod out to get them, their swords flashed less to seek corsairs and more to defend themselves from bogeymen.

Whether they fanned the flames or simply kept them smoldering, it seemed that Lucky Jimmy's reputation ranged wider each day.

At last, she saw through burning eyes the familiar silhouette. Richelle reached out a hand to grip his arm--wonderful and familiar as it was--and dragged him over to the escaping boat. How delightful it was to see his smoke-smeared face...even if she was hardly looking forward to when they'd be alone to discuss the past few weeks.

"Onboard wiv ye, Quarter Master," Richelle called grimly over the sounds of the fight. She hopped into the boat herself, and after a few more pirates crammed in, they were headed back once again to the Fledgling.

Even as they pulled in close to the ship, Richelle couldn't quite bring herself to look directly at the Quarter Master. She stared solemnly at the hilt of her saber, her knuckles white as she gripped the recovered weapon in anticipation. The Naval vessel would be busy tending its wounded and seeing to the town; the Fledgling would make a tidy escape. With Richelle again bound to her decks.


--------------------


Mike Kelly huffed and grumbled as he hauled away with the holy stone. After having taken off away from his superior--and brother--Rough Raff Kelly in the midst of battle, and upon returning to the ship and being questioned on the matter, having retorted with equal parts spittle and hellfire, Mike had found himself punished with the miserable task for what seemed to be the hundredth time since he'd first boarded the vessel. Really, Mike fumed, how could he be punished when he'd in fact done well in the fight? Young and scrappy though he was, he had managed to take a few of the British down for supper with Davy Jones. What sort of pirate needed to be baby-sat by the Master Gunner? Of course he had gone off alone!

Still, Mike mused as he glanced off towards the First Mate's cabin door. Still, he could have wound up much worse off. The general tension on the ship (and the fact that bets were still being taken) suggested that the fireworks between the true loves of MacLeod and Oaken had not yet erupted.

This was precisely the reason why Mike was going to subscribe to something more along his brother's philosophy; many wenches, but no women and no cold nights.

[Irish Wolf]

Raff grunted softly, as he took to resting on his still sore hindquarters upon a barrel, from which he could watch his younger brother at work. The fiery words the Kelly's had exchanged, when the younger was put to question, still scorched his ears. Six eggs to him and half of dozen of them rotten, the lad was a good cusser. He had done well in the fight (killed a few Saxons and survived to tell the tale) but by the Fae, their angelic mother would have skinned the older of the boys, had the younger taken injury and had their father tan the hide into new boots. The next time, for there was always a next time, they would fight side by side.

"Missed ah spot" the big Irishman said thickly, his voice still challenged by a slowly healing nose. The thing was still swollen from the belaying pin smashing him in the face, an ugly mix of purple and yellow in bruising, with a few nose bleeds happening during his slumbers (with more then a few smeared stains to his hammock). The nose was also a little crooked now, leaning slightly to the right half of his face. With the help of a bottle of rum and Liz's talented hands, he had gotten the thing straightened out (mostly) when he got aboard the Fledgling, on the last boat back (he had tossed Twigs down into one of the boat roughly in the middle of the withdraw from the Man-O-War).

"And keep a watch on that cabin" the master gunner muttered, as he stood up and limped towards the hatchway. He slowly worked his way deep into the belly of the lively sloop, grabbing a lantern as he went, until he reached the belly of the graceful creature. There, chained with rusting iron among the slimy ballast stones, was a vile little rodent. The shorter man was dressed in the finery befitting the landed gentry, which made it more then pleasing to see the fine fabrics soaking up the muck and rat droppings.

"Wake up" sneered Raff, shoving his bare foot into the gut of man, "Ye killed one of my lads. Why should I keep from returnin ta favor?"

[muketsu_bara]

When Raff had tossed her onto the last boat headed towards the Fledgling, Twigs whimpered from the pain that went with the landing. Her side, still in the healing process, ached horribly from the abuse and the newest wounds still bleed. Cursing to herself, she sheathed her sword and bandaged her wounds as best she could.

Boarding the familiar ship the Fledgling, Twigs retired to where all her things were to nurse herself back to health... or at least bandage her wounds. She could only study the side wound, her knowledge in wounds and medical appliances wasn't that extensive. Her cheek bleed lightly compared to the wound on her arm. Pulling off the soiled clothing, she dressed her wounds in a timely fashion and changed into some cleaner, less blood soaked items.

Wiping the blood from her cheek, Twigs leaned against the wall, laying her head back against it. She was relieved to find her heart calming itself as she stared at the wooden shape of the ship around her. Giving a gentle shake of her head, Twigs rejoined those on the top deck and went to the railing to watch the activities going on. Her blue eyes glancing about the ship, from person to person, barrel to barrel.

Slowly she turned her back on the crew and faced the water, once again drawn by the simplistic beauty that was her haven. Her cheek tickled as blood still trickled from the wound Raff had given her, but she had forgiven the man, they had all been in such battle fury... besides she knew that she had still been in the sailor's uniform and was probably mistaken for one. She wasn't one to hold grudges.

[ModelShipwright]

The air was forced from Ridley's lungs while he was chained down to the ballast weight. His eyes squinted open to see the first light he'd seen in awhile now, and a rather large man standing over him. He first gave a look of fright, but then his facial expressions softened into a light grin like he had everything under control, a confedint grin. "You're definatly are on' ugle rat, wouldn't ye say?" He asked, maintaining the grin on his face. "Tell me, my ugly frien', why would ye' return the favor, eh?" He asked tauntingly, his voice in a low calm manner. "Appears yer in charge here mate, wantin' revenge is a sign of weakness, eh? show weakness and you'll get' mutinied apon. That ole' buzzard doesn' mean nottin' t' you," He let out a light sigh as if bored.

"You'd b' makin' a mistake killin' me," He said, giving the man a taunting smile. "I appear simply a merchant captain deprived of hi' boat, right? Aye, but I've seen more things than you, friend." His gaze meets with the man's eyes. "More than ye'd know... Now tell me, you rat. Why are ye' wearin' your pistol on 'yer belt, eh? Thats a bit insuffient now'adays. What about ye'r engagement? Chargin' int' battle with yer' jolly roger flyin'? Now that's stealthy now'adays."

"Now, what are ye' goin' t' do?" He asked. "Goin' t' kill me? I doubt it, yer' just too weak. Ye' know I'm right."

[Irish Wolf]

A smile spread over the Irish rogues face, twisting the already disfigured nose. The little fop had more piss and vinegar in his heart then the corsair would have given him credit for. It was nice to see that the stinker wasn't going to beg and blubber for his life, it added a little something to this meeting that would cause it to stick in his memory (and maybe save the man his life). Of course, he might have had a few good points, the number of pirates hunting in the open was dropping and the Royal Navy was hunting them actively, every member of the Brotherhood of the Coast.

"Maybe" said Raff, reaching back into the darkness beyond his lamp light and pulling out a small box with a hole in the bottom, "I just like killin, ye just never know me lad. There be those in London Town that be claimin that I be an league with Old Nick himself. Some be usin me name in place of the Devil's. Ye never know with Raff Kelly, just what he might do."

He set the box down on Ridley's belly, the side with the hole facing up. The big man then reached out into the darkness again. There was a high pitched squeal and his hand came back into the light, holding a struggling rat by the tail. An unpleasant chuckle escaped his lips, as he lowered the squirming vermin into the hole and then flipped the box over. The scrapping of tiny claws could be heard coming from inside, as the rat searched for a way out.

"I took this off a royal executioner" said Raff, "Ye just set the box afire and the little bugger inside digs through ye're body to escape. Never got ta te see it work."

[Skallagrim]

James watched Richelle, his smile forced as he cheered the lads whisking them towards the Fledgling. Clearly, she was hiding something, something she felt best not to include him. He just stared at her, his heart welling up in his throat, his chest ready to explode; he could hear the beating of the grand muscle in his ears. All he wanted to do is grab her and hold her, pull her close face whatever demons she had with her. And yet he held back, she had fled, had left him, had not trusted him. That was the worst part.

Glancing at the burning city, then back at the war ship, he forced a laugh, then back to staring at the love of his life, huddled there, avoiding his gaze, creating a rift between them. Shaking himself he slapped the gunwale, "Well me boy-o's 'twas a boring city, now they have tales ta spread to they babes. They were attacked by Rot's own ship, the Fledgling and her possessed crew." Nods and grins circled the rowers, along with murmurs of approval and muttered good-natured oaths.

The dazzling smile faltered a moment before he felt the longboat nudge the hull of the sloop. James began shouting to the lads aboard the small pirate ship, "Fetch up lads, fetch up! Hop to it, let's sheer off, sheer off! Tell the Cap'n we be ready ta spread the sails."

Turning towards Richelle he winked, "We be home lass, come." Extending a hand, he waited for her.

[ModelShipwright]

Ridley's grin faded slightly as he mentioned the name Raff Kelly, and even more so when he watched the man set the box and vermin and box ontop of his stomach. He tensed up slightly as the box was set down and he could hear the vermin scratching around for a way out of the box. For a brief moment his eyes scanned inbetween the box and Raff before his grin returned.

"Raff Kelly? I've 'eard of you before," He rested his body back from its tense state. "Ye'h, heard 'lot about you. Ye' ain't that scary, not eve' close to what I expected. It's sad, eh? Sam Bellamy was a bit bigger and a bette' chess player than ye' when I ran into him last. T' bad he died, ain't it?"

Ridley flinched slightly as he felt the rat moving in the box again, he gazed at the box a moment before back up at Raff. "A rat in a box, eh? Pretty brutal...but remember, ye'r Raff Kelly," He taunted. "Gotta' keep yer' image up, right? Sure, this is nice 'n brutal, but c'ldn't ye' be more original? C'mon, why don't ye' stabbed me' hands and feet int' the keel of the boat at the waterline t' attrached the sharks, jus' so ye' can watch them tear the flesh off m'. Bette' yet, why don't ye' tie me' arms and leg's up, then throw me off the helm attached to a rope in a' storm, drag m' across the ocean until m' strength fails 'n I die."

Ridley cleared his throat and spit out onto Raff's foot. "You damn Raff Kelly, ye' best know that the Royal Navy be sended out small armadas. When I die you won't liv' long after."

"Don't be a fool."

[Irish Wolf]

And Raff Kelly laughed. The sound was jovial and bounced off the slimy ballast or the startled rats. He ended up leaned against the hull of the Fledgling's underbelly and wheezing. It took several minutes, before he could regain himself and stand up straight. Even when threatened with having a rat chew through his belly, the stranger was more then willing to throw curses and phylum about with abandon. Oh, he might just have to have this man as a gunner.

"Well boyo" said the big man, picking the box off of the fop's belly, "Ye're just full a piss and vinegar . I never did much like Gregory. Hows about, instead of me havin me rat chew through ye're belly, ye take the place of the man ye killed? Sign ta ship's papers and take a share of any plunder we take.It be a good life, even if it be short."

"Oh" the Irish corsair added, "Them royal armies failed ta kill me, what chance do them pressed sailors have at killin the devil himself?"

[ModelShipwright]

His mouth dropped slightly with a clearly astonished face. Either it being from the offer to spare his life, or complete anger, not to mention a complete mixture of both. Ridley's closet his mouth and swallowed, stuck inbetween a rock and a hard place he had to make his descision. Die slowely and painfully from a rat clawing its way through his body, or die slowely from starvation and disease aboard this ship.

"Well, I 'ad a good run," He spoke. "...but that is n' offe' I will nev'r accept. I would nev'r be 's low as t' join yer rat cre--" He paused and closed his mouth. He swallowed lightly again, then spoke up in a much stronger, demanding voice. "Money ye' say? How much loot ye' got?... Loot ain't enough, I want th' fine cloths of a viceroy! I wan'...I wan't a fortune, not no small bit' o loot! Most of all, I wan' power. I ain't no damn gunner, give me power" He demanded. "Thats the price I will accept. Steep ain't they? Might as well let your li'le rat brother chew through me!"

His body tensed up and he tugged on the chains attached to his arms, almost like a desperate attempt to break free he tugged. Hoping that they were attached to rotten wood instead of rocks. Although he was unlucky enough to soon find that they were attached to something that is in well condition, and won't be coming free anytime soon.

"Do something, damn you!"

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Richelle had looked up, been unable to fend off a smile, and accepted James' hand. Home. Indeed, the Fledgling was home, and had been a welcome sight and much missed feel. How she had missed that particular rock and sway of the sloop's deck when out on deep waters.

But she had still cut and run from it before. And now, back on the ship, Richelle found herself quarantined in her quarters for reasons other than her deteriorating battle with the demon. There always seemed to be eyes on her door, and each time she opened it there was quickly a sailor standing idly by as if to make certain she didn't make a break for the nearest jolly boat. Ridiculous!

As Mike Kelly was spitting in anger out onto the deck and swearing passionately when he caught his fingers under the holy stone (using words that would have had his vigilant mother making him down an entire bucket of soap water) Richelle sat fuming on her bed. Why hadn't the crew just gone on their way, as she had asked? There was no sense in the lot of them throwing their fortunes into the wind for her sake, as she had pointed out very clearly in her letter.

And James! Not only was he risking his life against a demon that had already shown it was willing to use him against her, like a cat swatting a mouse around to annoy a helpless bird, but he had actually gone onto one of his majesty's ships! Shouted his name out, drawn attention to himself! He would have been hung from the very rafters and his hempen jig sailed all the way back to England for the king to laugh at, had he been captured. Brave, foolish lump of a man. She ought to have been immensely touched by the daring show of loyalty, by the crew as a whole and by her daring pirate, and she was. But there was still that fear.

And, she thought as she cursed and doubled over with her head in her hands, the physical pain. The Raksasha demon seemed to be enjoying all this trouble, and was making it known by pounding around in her head or stabbing out in her stomach to rend her feeble with discomfort. Richelle curled up for a few moments on the bed, waiting for the throbbing headache to pass. When it did, she scowled and headed for the door on shaky feet.

The door opened and Mike didn't look up from his vicious treatment of a rough plank. He merely called out, his nose wrinkled in annoyance, "Do ye be needin' an escort, marm?"

The door half-slammed shut in a furious response, and Mike couldn't help but feel an odd twinge of satisfaction. He returned to his work with a snort and a toss of his head.

[muketsu_bara]

Pushing herself away from the railing, Twigs glanced about the deck, watching the other crew members move about. Some were talking about the prisoner down below, others were sharing stories they've shared a million times over. Following the conversations, she found herself below where the prisoner and Raff where. "Oye, Raff," she said, letting him know she was here.

Studying the man with Raff, Twigs smirked lightly. "He be all decked out in tha finnest cloths. How dare we kip'im locked'way down 'ere wif tha rats," she said with a laugh. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she pulled herself up on one of the barrels and sat to watch the prisoner. "If'n ye be wantin' ta go 'bove deck, git goin'. I'll stay wif'im," she said, looking at Raff. Her cheek had stopped bleeding, for which she was thankful.

[Skallagrim]

James stared at the parchment in front of him, his mind drifting away from the task at hand and towards the bonny lass secured in her berth. Snarling the lanky pirate stood and stretched wearily. The last few weeks had been torturous, the reckless battle in port. Slamming his fist down on the barrel he used as a desk shook, the loud thwock echoed in his room. Rubbing his face James decided that a stroll about the deck might help.
As the sun washed across his face, the warmth seeping into his body, James exhaled softly as he watched the crew busy at work. Shading his eyes he stared at the blue-green waters, somewhere the cursed city of Elkab lay waiting for them, lay waiting for the woman that he loved.

Narrowing his eyes James peered in the distance, something seemed to shimmer in and out of view. Rushing to the railing, he leaned out and stared. Whirling he looked for someone, anyone to make sure he wasn’t crazy. Spotting Twiggs he shouted at her, “Oi, Lass! C’mere and be quick!” Pointing towards the spot he peered at her, “What do ye see?”
Not waiting for her to answer he slid along the railing and lifted up someone an snarled, “Lad get me the First Mate and the Master Gunner…stow yer clack! Now get them.” Releasing the boy, James let out an intense hoot of delight. If he was not crazy, and there were evidence he might be, for he had just spotted the cursed city of the Rakshasa, Elkab the Sunken.

[muketsu_bara]

“Oi, Lass! C’mere and be quick!What do ye see?” James yelled at her. Lifting her gaze from the rope she was repairing and followed his finger. Squinting her eyes, Twigs dropped the rope and hopped to her feet. She lifted her hand, blocking out the light from the sun as she pressed it against her forehead.

"Bloody'ell, is tha' wha' we been lookin' fer?" Twigs asked and leaned against the railing. "Ahoy, we finnelly find it!" Letting out a whoop, she threw her fist into the air and moved back to her seat and grabbed the rope. Throwing it on top of the pile she had stocked up, she laughed and turned to look back at the horizon. We're almost there... Richelle hold on... she thought to herself and ran her fingers through her loose hair.

[Jadeling Hawkins]

Richelle was interrupted in her fuming by a knock on the door by an excited lad. He rambled out that she was asked for on deck, then dashed away to find the Master Gunner. Richelle frowned, but decided she wasn't going to waste her apparent reprieve by hanging around in confusion.

She quickly gathered up her skirts and raced up to the deck. James and Twigs, along with a few other grinning sailors, were standing watch at the railing. Richelle frowned once again and stepped up beside the pair, trying to look out at what had their attention. She blinked, and swore she could have seen a dot on the horizon that was no cloud. She leaned over the railing and squinted. Then her eyes flew wide open, and though she lost the particulars of the speck, she was positive of what it must be to gain such a reaction from the crew.

"I donnae believe it!" Richelle gasped, trying to get a better look. "Is it really Elkab? Is she really in sight at last?"

[Skallagrim]

Harsh and cold winds whip across the water strewn ruins. Impossible towers of non-Euclidian geometry stand as mute guardians of the vast city. Swelling waters rush into the circular harbor, crashing with vengeance against the massive stone walls of the break water. Vast stepped terrace lined temples. Squat buildings and other mysterious structures beckon. Statues of multi-limbed feline beings line a main street leading to a massive ziggurat alone and imposing.

Baleful swirling mists choke the streets, mercilessly yet even from this vast distance the grandeur of the city is evident. The disturbed sea around the city thrashes angrily as steam hisses and rises from the waters. Hundreds, nay thousands of dead fish float on the surface of the murky water around the isle upon which the city is perched.

Elkab the Sunken lay before the crew of the Fledgling, open arms beckoning like a lost lover seeking solace on a cold night. Deep within the hazy gloom, a thousand eyes turn towards the small ship and the precious cargo it holds.



“She comes, she comes….” Carries a mewling whisper across the empty streets.

[Irish Wolf]

Raff looked away from the chained dandy and stared up, toward where he could hear a great commotion up on deck. There were calls for him and other officers aboard ship. Something was happening, maybe that British warship had decided to give chase and had caught up with them or they had found a fat East Indiaman, loaded with tea, silks, cotton, indigo dye and saltpetre, however the second option seemed less likely. He couldn't hear the wicked glee of men about to take a prize, in the shouts above.

"Well me boyo" said the one-eyed pirate with an almost friendly smile, "Lets go see what all the fuss be about. I'll even trouble the Quartermaster about ye're request. Course he might just toss ye overboard."

The rogue laughed, as he produced a key from his person and unlocked the shackles. He continued to chuckle, as he grabbed the lantern and the front of the dandy's coat. Without so much as grunting, he hauled the stranger to his feet and dragged him through out the bowls of the ballast, up through the belly of the Fledgling and onto the deck. He paused, as the sun struck his face, to stare over the heads of many of the searats that formed the crew. There was a city, stranger and more alien to him then even the last cursed land they had landed upon. It seemed to steal the breath from his chest and freeze the blood in his veins, even at this great distance.

"Burn me soul" whispered Raff, as he let go of Ridley and shouldered his way next to Richelle, "There it be, the home of 'em devils that plague ye."

A smile spread over the pirate's lips, as he turned to looked at his dearest friends and companions.

"Five guineas" declared the elder of the Kelly brothers, "That it be filled with all kind of treasure."

[Skallagrim]

Slowly as the Fledgling continued forth, drawn towards the vast city, somehow even as the winds died the ship moved with a grim purpose toward the haunting vista. James gulped as a deathly chill swirled around his body. Licking his lips he slid next to Richelle and gripped her hand, his eyes wide as he stared at her.
“Lass, we’re here and what ever comes we’ll face it.” He whispered as he leaned close to her, “Together me poppet, together.”

Quickly he glanced up toward the Captain then at Raff and the fop he had with him, casting a nod at Twigs he smiled faintly then said aloud, “’Tis Elkab fer sure or call me dogsbody lads. The hated sunken city that dare…dare place it’s ruination upon our First Mate and this crew.”

Releasing Richelle’s hand, James hopped up on a box and gripped a line tightly, swaying slightly he cast a glance at crew then at the island, “Me brother-adventurers, mess mates, friends…” James turned back at them, a wicked grin on his face as he pointed to two, “Lads grab the cask, and bring it forth…” In a haste the two rushed and grabbed the cask from James quarters, it was the rum they had taken from the ship off Cape Good Hope.

Hopping down and tapping the cask, James glanced around, the dark liquid spilt and sloshed on the deck, “Drink up me hearties, here’s to long life to all of us…for after this we drink battle and hellfire.” Sloshing out four cups, James handed them to Richelle, Raff, Twiggs and himself before passing the ladle to one of the boys.

The crew with a roar raced for cups or took the ladle and drunk deep of the rum.

Facing the others, James nodded and took a gulp. Blinking a moment before laugh exploded from him, “Dinnae think we’d be sailing into another lost city on a far distant shore again in our lives.” Focusing on Richelle he beamed brightly, “But this one isn’t fer booty fer me, this be personal.”

Turning towards Raff, “Do we have powder and shot enough to fight our way in if we need to?” Casting a glance at the edifice, “I dunnae what’s in there but I know we’ll be hard pressed, they want Richelle and they mean to have her.” Facing Raff again, his eyes blazing, “But they’ll have to take me to hell to get her.”

[Irish Wolf]

"Fight our way in" declared Raff, grinning widely and clapping James on the shoulder with a big paw, "We've enough ta smash down the gates ah Hell themselves and give 'em damned souls and demons within a good volley ah both solid and grape shot. That be without countin a supply for the pistols, muskets and other flintlocks. Have no worry about 'em guns. Ye have Raff Kelly and there be few things I canno do with a cannon."

The one eyed rogue started laughing, after tossing back the cup of rum he had been handed. Every jack on of them might die today, attempting to storm a cursed island filled with inhuman horrors and hopefully treasure aplenty but gold or jewels was not the prize they sought (or it wasn't the main prize to say the least) but the very soul of one of their own. Hells teeth, it might even be a good day to die. Across the globe, the places where pirates could gather, were starting to grow slim. The waring governments, now had large enough fleets, that pirates were no longer needed to raid an enemy's shipping and indeed, could muster enough force, to bring all the wayward sailors to heel.

"And it no be hard" he continued, "Ye'reself and meself. We could do this, alone. Trickers, like 'em waitin devils, they no can stand up ta a straight fight. In fact, we best take this slow, enjoy it or we'll meet boredom too soon, once this little joint be over and we're needin some new adventure ta do. Maybe layin siege ta Hell, for laughs. Drag Old Nick out and make him come along on shore leave, or somethin."