(posting the opening scene a bit early, to drum up interest):
With the night, came the Ninjas. Here to restore their lord's honor, for the
theft and destruction rained down upon his houshold by the out-lander pirates.
Recovery of the stolen gold was a lesser priority than vengeance.
The ninjas that slowly rowed up to the becalmed pirate ship on that moonless
night were just grateful for the opportunity to serve a noble master. Long
since disgraced and cast out, they had wandered from one daimyo to another
looking for a leader who would restore their sense of purpose in life - even
if they had to die to prove their worth.
And not long after finding a daimyo who would take them in and make use of their
vast, murderous skills, that lord's castle had been ransacked, while he had been
away on business, and the ninjas had been guarding his caravan.
So he had sent them forth, following swiftly with tireless arms across an occasionally
angry sea. Now, a week after their relentless pursuit had began, the spirits of the
ocean and sky had blessed them - the wind had failed the bloated black ship, leaving
it vulnerable to infiltration. Masters of not just killing, but subterfuge, the ninjas
donned their disguise, determined to make their revenge not just bloody, but slow and
terrifying ... it wouldn't due to kill the crew quickly, in a single night.
They decided to wait until a full day had passed, to better study their enemy, and
choose an appropriate revenge. They expected blood-thirsty murderers, perhaps not
brilliant but at least cunning, and skilled in their own crude fashion with a variety
of weapons. They expected savages, rapists, barbarians.
... they didn't expect a pack of drunken, buggering idiots.
***
The body hung from the yardarm like a leaf from a tree on a windless day,
swaying gently from the motion of the ship on the waves. It certainly didn't
sway from the breeze - there hadn't been a trace of wind for nearly a full day
now, and hopelesness had began to set in among the violent crew of the ship.
Never minding the mindset of his crew, Blackbeard looked up with some satisfaction
at the corpse. Old Norwood hadn't necessarily been a bad fellow, but you could
only push the captain of a ship so far before you had to pay the consequences.
"Well," he said with a bit of forced cheer, "at least his didn't piss himself, like
Billy."
Nods of relieved assent to that, though it was just a reminder as to the lack of wind
that had stranded the Black Goat - it had been a breezy day, not so long ago, when Billy
had been hung for ... something, it was hard to remember what. In any case, the fat
bastard sure'd had a full bladder. Some of the men had been forced to wash their faces,
and in extreme cases, dip their clothes in the ocean.
"In any case, I suppose his share's mine," Blackbeard continued, with more honest cheer,
"seeing as how's the offense was against me, mostly. Me and my ship. Litiguous damages,
I suppose. Anyways, it's already locked up in me chest, so that seems fair." He took
another swallow of that rice piss he'd stolen from the Nip boat they'd bumped into a
few days back - when the wind was still blowing, and belched happily.
The crew began to turn away, swigging from their own bottles of various and hard to identify
liquors, muttering under or over their breaths, stroking the supple, hard, polished
wooden grips of their pistols with slightly more pleasure than necessary, each of them
wondering in some deep and slightly less pissed part of their mind just why the gold
had to go to the Captain, when maybe it should have been split equally, like the original
booty from that slant-eye's castle. Not that pirates were team-players, exactly ... and
if any of them had been paying closer attention, or had been even remotely sober, they
might have noticed that even after killing off a mutineer, their crew was a tad larger
than it had been that morning. And not just because people were seeing double.
Waves lapped gently against the teak hull, rythmic and peaceful, and the sun shone down
without malice. A parrot cawed on a pirate's shoulder, there was the slightest rustle
from unfurled canvas, and in a secluded corner of the gun-deck a screeching monkey tried
vainly to sodomize a cannon-ball.
It was going to be a long day.
Consider this thread closed until the game starts.
This post has been edited by Path-Shaper: 17 February 2009 - 11:25 PM