[HS] High Seas - Recruitment/OOC

[darkblade]

In the spirit of the Twilight Lynching verse games of the past I have come to bring the crazy crossover spirit of those games back.

Some old salts used to say that magic came in cycles, like the tides. It'd wash over the world for a few decades every now and then before fading back into the aether. That was all well and good but some people can't just leave well enough alone.

Something far stranger and scarier has happened to magic lately lads. It's been domesticated. No longer free as the sea and sky, she sits imprisoned in Royal Orchards of Devil's Fruit, she pines for freedom as undead marines patrol the gulf of Mexico.

These are strange days me lads, and strange days make for some mighty strange booty.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Lynching verse (a problematic name now that I think of it) it was a series of hybrid structured and free form RP where each player took on the role of a character of an appropriate genre (and sometimes not so appropriate, we had Twilight Sparkle wander into a Shadowrun-esque bad future) and one player took on the role of DM guiding the players into cooperation and conflict in equal measure to make a unique crossover experience. If you have any questions, feel free to ask, myself or one of the returning players will be more than happy to answer your questions.

So without further ado welcome to the new instalment, High Seas. To join simply post a simple character sheet with your chosen sea faring hero (or villain), the franchise they are from and a general listing of their abilities. No pirates (okay space pirates are a no go but beyond that...), merchants, marines or sailors turned down.

[Aric Kale]

Can my character be an OC, or do I have to find an actual (fake) seafaring character?

[doliest]

Not quite a pirate, but when it comes to the High Seas, there is one name that even the most bloodthirsty buccaneer has reason to fea.


http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20080309131257/pirates/images/8/8e/Davy_Jones.jpg

Davy Jones, captain of the Flying Dutchman and ferry-way man of souls (not that he really does that). Once lover of the sea goddess Calypso, he turned on her when she missed their reunion- the price of his job being ten years at sea, doing his duty, and that day (plus immortality) his reward. He aided the Court in binding her, unbeknownst to the goddess in question, and since then has sailed the seas, claiming souls for his crew.

Abilities
+ Functionally Immortal (Jones can only be killed by stabbing his heart, locked in a chest which is buried on a deserted island to which he has the only key)
+ Fish Person (Jones is quite a bit stronger than your average man, with a massive crab claw and face tentacles to boot.)
+ Sea-based Teleport (Jones and his men appear to be able to move from one ship to another at will so long as it is in an unspecified range)
+ Flying Dutchman (Virtually indestructible due to its' supernatural nature, powerful cannons, and a submarine, the Dutchman is certainly the power in most waters)
+Fishmen Crew (Jones' crew is, generally, both terrified of him and dependent on him for their immortality. Thus, mutiny is almost unheard of.)
+Sea Lore (Jones' whether owing to his nature as Captain of the Dutchman or due to having loved Calypso, appears to be highly knowledgeable about certain magics.)
+Kraken (Jones pet and hunting beast)

Weaknesses
+Heart (While allowing him immortality, his heart is also a leash- any who hold it gain power over him)
+Land (Jones can only venture on land once every ten years. Thus, his ability to affect it is limited to sending his crew ashore.)
+Calypso (Jones still loves Calypso, a weakness that both hurts him for his betrayal of her (at least when his heart is near) and leaves him unable to kill her when confronted with the opportunity.)
+Calypso's Wrath (Jones betrayed her. When she finds out, well, he better hope she never gets unbound)
+Limited Growth (Jones has one ship. He has a crew for that ship. Beyond adding more crew members, he cannot gain another ship like the Dutchman. He cannot build an empire or a fleet- both require things like the ability to go on land, ambition, and charisma. He has none of these.)

[darkblade]

Can my character be an OC, or do I have to find an actual (fake) seafaring character?

No OCs, but anyone known for life at sea either historical or fictional is fair game.

Doliest: Davy Jones is approved.

[Cracklord]

Doliest, me hearty! Tia a handsome wind that sees the two of us shipmates once more!

I am torn between an honest sailor type, with a roguish gleam and a vigorous approach to fencing, or a black-hearted knave sort. But I think I'll go with Captain Avery, officer and gentleman. Perhaps with Innigo Montaya as the first mate, for anachronistic hilarity.

[doliest]

Doliest, me hearty! Tia a handsome wind that sees the two of us shipmates once more!



Yar har fiddle dee dee/ being back in the game/ is alright with me
Do you what you want/ 'cause a forum is free/ you are a gamer!
.
..
Shame is for the weak! :smallbiggrin:

Davy Jones is approved? Excellllent. (And not just because my next choice would have been 'Killian Jones'/Captain Hook from OUAT. )

[Cracklord]

...Well, since I'm playing the Errol Flynn type, or rather a ludicrously over the top version, I have to tell you Doliest that this is a battle of wits, and you are not armed.

Why, captain Ben Avery is an officer and a gentleman, literate and more the capable to navigate and pilot any ship he turns his hand to, be it Sloop or Dreadnaught, able to keep everything shipshape and Bristol fashion. Reckoned to be the finest swordsman from St Kitts to Coromadel, with stocatta and imrocatta and punta rincersa, sa-ha!

[PurityIcekiller]

This seems interesting. I admit I have trouble getting into the minds of characters who aren't my own, but hopefully I can adapt...

Hey! I've got it! Maybe I could try to play Pipsqueak the pony! I can have him be klutzy and naive, but making up for it in eagerness to learn the seafaring ways (which also fits me, seeing as I'm a newcomer to this thing). What do you say?

Picture for reference:
http://static2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111024020127/mlp/images/thumb/9/99/Pipsqueak_ID_S2E04.png/250px-Pipsqueak_ID_S2E04.png

[Draxx]

Alright, I'll go classic Disney Hook. Maybe throw in Long John Silver for nostalgia's sake.

The pony could, concievably be fun, but you're likely to spend the game playing second fiddle contribution wise. But if that doesn't bother you, go for it! Hey, the pony can be on my ship, and completely oblivious to the fact that we are pirates! Hilarity, needless to say, will ensure.

[doliest]

I don't know...Pip is on good terms with a Lunar Goddess- that has to be worth some mad advantages. Though, yeah, lacking a ship of his own would probably mean shacking up with somebody else.

And to you Cracklord I say only that you had best be ready, because
The Bell has been raised,
From it's watery grave...
Do you hear it's sepulchral tone?
We are a call to all,
Pay heed the squall,
And turn your sail toward home!

[PurityIcekiller]

Oh, I'm not afraid to take more of a supporting role to start with. I need to get my bearings before I try to go big. If I feel a need for a more command-y position, then I can bring in a new character, but for now, I'm fine following along with someone else. Besides, I think I can pull off the bumbling sidekick well enough. :smallbiggrin:

[Cracklord]

Oh Doliest. Nice try, but:

"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest--
- Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Each one a goner means more for the rest--
- Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of Rum!"

[Grif]

This is very odd.

Very intriguing.

I think I got just the character.
http://perso.univ-lyon2.fr/~mollon/EO-web/11-12/DAVRIEUX/Personnages/Haddock.jpg

[darkblade]

Pipsqueak is approved but we need to work out how to fit Equestria into a human-centric world. I'll PM you about that.

I'm going to need a sheet for Captain Avery, Cracklord since there are too many with that name for Google to help me out here.

Captain Haddock is approved.

As is Hook.

I'm going to wait one more day to see if anyone else is interested and start the game tomorrow (people can still join in the middle of the game if they want of course).

[Grif]

Captain Haddock is approved.


Hee. Can't wait to unleash some of his infamous cursing. Granted, I actually have no idea how this game works. :smallbiggrin:

[Aric Kale]

Yarr, m'next choice would have to be Barbossa...
An' that's assuming I can go about using a charrracter from the same universe as Davy Jones...hahahaharrr!

[Cracklord]

Obviously I'm not running this game, but based on precedent it shouldn't be a problem in the slightest. Might even be all the better, giving you a context to draw your interactions from.

The Pony is actually pretty easy, Neverland (where Hook comes from) is shaped by the dreams of children, afterall, and probably has something to do with magic (might even be the source!). He's a child who wants to be a pirate? Well maybe his wish just came true. Doesn't even need an invested party, it can happen just like that.

Haddock is awesome, though I'm surprised you didn't go with his ancestor, Sir Francis.

Now onto the question that I've heard repeated quite a few times. What is this game about? That's a question both simple, and vastly complex, a question I've tried to answer quite a few times, and never really done justice. However, if anyone knows it should be me, right? So lets see if I can do better this time.

The lynchingverse is a celebration, of stories, characters and ideas, of archetypes, and a massive backdrop to have fun in. Which is ironic, considering it's origins. The idea was to have a bunch of fictional characters we like beat up a bunch of fictional characters we didn't. And yet, in the course of that game, a story took form, and rather then being passive punching bags, the characters developed a life of their own, thanks in large part to the talented and enthusiastic participants. Indeed, it was so much fun that we all got back together for a fresh run, and had fun again, and from there, it went off.

The idea of this game is to celebrate the high-adventure genre, to do things unbarred by story structure or common sense, and to celebrate the stories you love with fitting tribute. It's not for everyone, but if you're an enthusiast and enjoy the company of your fellows, then you might just have come home.

This revival seems based on the same principle. This is a game based around the golden age of wooden ships and iron men, unbarred by realism or the darker side of Imperialism. This is a game full of dashing rogues on both sides of the law, heroism, knavery, daring escapes, swinging across with cutlasses between the teeth, awesome swordfights interjected by witty repartee, and yes, talking like a pirate. And if you love those things, or even just enjoy them, then let Darkblade draw you into a world of his devising, and I promise you won't regret it.

Oh, and I'll have the character sheet up toot sweet!

[Grif]

Alas, I only have the second half of TinTin's comics, and I haven't got around to reading the one involving Haddock's ancestor. As such, I'm more familiar with the good captain's personality than of his ancestor.

[Cracklord]

Not a problem, because Francis is pretty much exactly the same character, just with an appropriate period feel, and a slightly more military attitude (given he's a privateer). They curse the same, look almost identical, and drink the same (at least, based on Haddock's recollections in The Secret of the Unicorn).

Anyway, here we go: Captain Ben Avery is the main character written in a book by George Donald Fraiser. The book exists mostly to celebrate the adventure genre and the golden age of piracy, and so is only based on the actual Avery in the loosest way, he's more of a ludicrous exaggeration of the sort of swashbuckling heroes Errol Flynn used to play.

http://celebsview.info/wp-content/uploads/PirateMovie.jpe
+ Your perfect swashbuckling adventure hero, Captain Ben Avery is your perfect officer and gentleman of fortune, honorable and courteous and with a seemingly bottomless reservoir of both talent and charm, as well as a wit that cuts like a knife.
+ Courageous to an almost absurd degree, he's always calm and unflappable, never loosing his cool or his nerves, and always moving proactively towards solving a problem, whatever it may be.
+ Ben is an exceptional hand with a sword, one of the very best, and to the proper conduct of fencing, although he's a little adrift in a less sportsmanlike sort of duel, he's strong enough and quick a quick enough study at fisticuffs that he can still hold his own. He's a good shot too, though he prefers not to use such uncivilized weapons.
+ While he's never imagine taking advantage of a woman, pretty much every woman he has ever met has been incredibly disappointed to realize this.
+ An exceptional captain, at least in theory. While he can sail, knows everything there is to know about boats and charts and suchlike, he doesn't have the experience many of the other captains here do, and his crew are largely green, equally lacking in experience. Although as has been said, he is a quick study.
+ Genre savvy, quite aware of the conventions of the adventure story, and his own position as the Hero.
- Ben Avery may not be stupid, but he has a gullible streak a mile wide and his insistence on gentlemanliness, etiquette and proper conduct can be exploited by the sort of cads who don't hold with sportsmanship.

May I have Innigo as his foil?

[ThePhantom]

Finally thought of just the character.

http://ifanboy.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/popeye.jpg
Popeye the Sailor Man

+Upon eating spinach, Popeye becomes incredibly strong, capable of many feats that defy reality
+ Popeye is very durable, capable of taking a great deal of punishment. In fact, bullets are incapable of doing him permant harm.
+ Popeye is a capable sailor, able if necessary of sailing a whole ship all by himself.
+ Popeye isn't one to back down from a fight, through that can sometimes be used against him.
- Popeye is coarse, and has a hard time getting along for others.
- Popeye isn't very smart, and gets outsmarted fairly often.
-

[darkblade]

Popeye and Avrey approved. I'll go start the main thread now.

Edit: Here it is. http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=16549098#post16549098

[Aric Kale]

Here's the list for Barbossa and his ship.


+Experienced sailor: Great knowledge of the seven seas and other, more mystical, locations.
+Skilled swordsman: while not the greatest around, he can easily hold his own in a fight...never said anything about it being a fair one, mind you!
+Very clever and manipulative: can convince the crew to do whatever he wants, as long as he doesn't lead them downhill for too long.
+undead: he and his crew are skeletons when revealed by moonlight, and visually normal at any other time. Only way to stop this is to gather all of the 802 gold pieces from Cortez's blood money and sacrifice the blood of Will Turner or his descendents.
+has an undead monkey which is both clever and extremely loyal.
-obsessed with removing the curse, which will also remove their immortality.
-Barbossa doesn't always plan things through all the way, making rash decisions with little information.
-not exceptionally fast, strong, or dexterous...


The Black Pearl is moderately armed. It carries 32 twelve-pound cannons: 18 on the gun deck and 14 on the upper deck. Its full broadside contains 16 cannonballs and weighs 192 lb. However, it has no chasing guns.

If all the ship's lamps are blown out then the ship is no longer visible on the sea thanks to her black hull and sails.

She flies a jib, a forestaysail, a foresail, a foretopsail, a foretopgallant sail, a mainsail, a topsail, a topgallant sail, a mizzen lateen sail, a mizzen topsail, a main staysail, and a topmast staysail.
Due to the seemingly ridiculous amount of sails, The Black Pearl is considered the fastest ship in the seven seas, outrunning both The Flying Dutchman and The HMS Interceptor.

Captain Barbossa implemented an ingenious system of oars on one of the lower decks. It allowed a detachment of his pirates to act as a galley crew. Adding maneuverability in shallow waters and small boosts of even greater speed.

[AnimeKid]

Well I know what I'm going with. The stretcheyest pirate on the high seas!

Monkey D. Luffy

http://www.wallsave.com/wallpapers/1280x960/cute-monkey/951241/cute-monkey-d-luffy-best-free-com-951241.jpg


Strengths:+Strangely charismatic leader that seems to naturally attract people. Though admittedly people who are often just as crazy as he is.
+Supernatually strong. Is capable of lifting up large boulders, breaking stone, shattering steel with his bare hands, pushing apart large buildings and shoulder flipping a huge man.
+Amazing endurance and pain tolerance. Thanks to the Gum Gum Fruit is is almost all but immune to blunt force attacks. Cutting him still works just fine though.
+Possesses tremendous speed, agility, and reflexes to match his strength and endurance. On multiple occasions was able to anticipate moves and counter attacks that would normally be beyond his field of vision due to his sharp reflexes.
+ Possess enormous willpower, helps him survive against things most normal humans would not be capable of. ex surviving a poison in critical condition though will power when he should had been dead.
+Has no set fighting style and will do anything to win in a fight. Includes attacking women or animals, hitting below the belt, attacking his enemies even if they have their backs turned or are otherwise unprepared or unsuspecting, using enemies as human shields and even biting his opponents.
+Ate the Gum Gum fruit which gave him the powers of a rubber man and two other abilities called Gears. Gear second increases the bloodflow of his body to give him a generic strength and speed boost, downside is that it does a good deal of damage to his body. Gear Third allows him to inflate parts of his body to large proportions to get more mass behind his attacks. has the downside that it turns him into a chibi for the equal amount of time that he uses it.
+ Posesses the use of Haki. Conquer Haki basically acts as a way of quickly knocking out those that are weak willed, basically mooks, and exerts a pressure on the environment. Observation Haki allows the sensing other people and attacks even if not normally in range. The reason for Luffy's reflexes. Armament Haki allows for the strengthening/hardening of the users body or items the user has on them. Gives Luffy great defense and offense. However his verion still doesn't work well against cutting attacks.
+Stupidly courageous, or perhaps that's just stupidity?
+ And improvises fairly well.
+As unpredictable as the tides thanks to his natural disposition.

Weaknesses:-Falling into the ocean takes away his powers and makes him sink like a stone. If he falls in someone needs to rescue him.
-A special stone called seastone also takes away his devil fruit powers, though not his natural ones like Haki.
-Heavily susceptible to hypnotism and tends to not have the sense to turn away.
-Distracted easily, especially by things he deems 'cool'.
-Pretty simple all things considered, borders on full out stupidity. Moments of innovation and good ideas save him from being a total idiot.
-HORRIBLE WITH DIRECTIONS! Things that to go north you just go in the direction that feels the coldest.
-Cutting weapons are one of his greatest weaknesses. The only defense is has is Haki and even that isn't perfect. Best to dodge them.
-Can sometimes be very gullible, not that great at telling if a person is lying unless he knows them very well.
-Tends to cause a mess wherever he goes. Usually can't even go to pick up water without something crazy happening.
-

Is this good Darkblade?

[Grif]

Not to put a fine a point on this, but I'm still not clear as to which era are we supposed to operate in.

As I recall, the Karaboudjan is a full fledged coal-powered (presumably) merchant ship that existed in the early 1930s, so technically, she would be able to outrun any sail-based galleon. I do think you mean a ship with a similar name that harked back to the sail-based ships, probably a caravel or the sort, but confirmation would be nice.

Also, how free are we to roleplay? Are we in control of the individual ships and their crew? What's the world like? Mid-17th century Earth?

[darkblade]

Barboasa and Luffy approved. I'll add them to the next post.

As for the setting, the tech level is intentionally all over the place partly because the levels of magic present in the setting destabilizing normal progress. Real world locations sit side by side with fictional ones to form a horrific patchwork mess. I'd lean towards 1700s with higher tech where needed.

So yes Haddock can have the coal fuelled, steam driven vessel which normally would outrun most sail based ships. Unfortunately the vessel that spotted him is Hook's which has been exposed to trace fairy dust and lots of wild magic for centuries in Neverland, so physics don't quite work as they should for it.

You have full control over everything on your ships. I might occasionally hijack minor crew members for plot reasons but for the most part anything tied to your characters is completely your's to do with as you please.

[Grif]

Barboasa and Luffy approved. I'll add them to the next post.

As for the setting, the tech level is intentionally all over the place partly because the levels of magic present in the setting destabilizing normal progress. Real world locations sit side by side with fictional ones to form a horrific patchwork mess. I'd lean towards 1700s with higher tech where needed.

So yes Haddock can have the coal fuelled, steam driven vessel which normally would outrun most sail based ships. Unfortunately the vessel that spotted him is Hook's which has been exposed to trace fairy dust and lots of wild magic for centuries in Neverland, so physics don't quite work as they should for it.

You have full control over everything on your ships. I might occasionally hijack minor crew members for plot reasons but for the most part anything tied to your characters is completely your's to do with as you please.
One more, if I may.

Do any of our characters know each other? Are they familiar with the bizarre weird mix of settings? (Or put it in another way, is this only happening now, with each character plucked from each settings and dropped willy nilly in the sea. It'll affect how much on the setting's history I can draw on, and how much I need to rely on Herge Tintin's Earth.)

Sorry for the questions, but they do pertain to how Haddock would react at least. (If it was something that he's used to, then it's full steam ahead. If not... well, things get a little interesting.)

[darkblade]

The world has always been this crazy. The characters should mostly now of each other by varying degrees of reputation and rumour.

[doliest]

Similarly, I think I'm going to have to work out with you on just how old Davy is in this combined setting. He predates the first Brethren court in the POTC universe, but that isn't anything like an exact age. I'm presuming he's been doing this for at least a century, if not longer, but that's up to you.

Similarly, I'd presume he's atleast aware enough of Bendings' nature to know about things like the Moon/Ocean spirits and the Dragons. Though, again, I can change that if you'd prefer he didn't. Also, I will get flowery/pretentious - its' what I do. :smallwink::smallbiggrin:

[darkblade]

I'd say he's been at this roughly as long as he was in the movies and should know all about other mystical forces that might touch on his territory.

[Aric Kale]

This'll be grand. PreBrethren Court Davy, with Cursed!Barbossa and crew...
Who needs timestreams anyways? :smallwink:

[doliest]

This'll be grand. PreBrethren Court Davy, with Cursed!Barbossa and crew...
Who needs timestreams anyways? :smallwink:

I meant that, in POTC, Davy was older than the first Brethren Court, not that my Davy is that early in. I'm presume this is somewhere not too long before POTC 1 in that timeline's terms.

Though, yes, the timestream combining everything is going to get hurt anyway. :smallwink:

[Aric Kale]

That makes much more sense...
Ya know, darkblade, you can add Luffy and Barbossa to the first post, if you just edit it.

[Cracklord]

Have fun with it. I intend to.

Take the whole Napoleon at the same time as Cardinal Richelieu thing. Which is because, lets face it, Inigo needs a swordmaster worthy of his talents, and Comte de Rochefort is good enough, methinks. Particularly if played by Christopher Lee, although most takes on him are pretty good.

[Grif]

Hm. This whole wacky timeline thing might be a problem.

Ah well, I'll see what I can come up with.

(Might bring in a few familiar figures from Tintin-verse then.)

[industrious]

Timelines have always been an issue with these games. Best you don't think about it too hard.

Now, I've got to find the right character...industrious is a literary landlubber, unfortunately...

I'm thinking...


S'reee - Wizard for Earth's Oceans
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CDTtntnI_tU/TA3KfRoOEoI/AAAAAAAACJc/HMWdTqBRybg/s1600/humpback_whale.jpg

+ S'ree is a three year old humpback whale. As such, she is perfectly adapted for sea travel, and ship-to-ship combat.

+ S'ree is also a wizard, which allows her, among other things, to speak the Speech that all things understand, and create spells. All energy from the spells, unless otherwise specified, come from her own body, so...

- S'ree is young for a whale and for a wizard. Her maturity is equivalent to a 17 year old, and she has limited knowledge of humans.

[Draxx]

Hey Industrious. How have you been?

[Draxx]

Entirely out of interest, and to play a more serious sort of villain to go with my Disney one, and because you can never have too much swashbuckling, I couldn't also play Christopher Lee's take on Rochefort on the ridiculous flying ship that was in the modern movie? I'd suggest someone played by Rathbone, but I can't think of one who I'd like to play.

http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/043/6/1/comte_de_rochefort_by_chriskuhlmann-d39e7qy.jpg

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-THMUVvatk7Y/T26YFBNIXgI/AAAAAAAAACk/FEIaZZD7TaE/s1600/3m_ship.jpg

Captain Comte De Rochefort - The Captain of the Cardinals Guards, The Six Fingered Man
+ Despite being considered the best swordsman in Europe (purely in terms of skill), he prefers to shoot his enemies (and he's an excellent shot). When he does duel, unless there is a mitigating factor or he has the utmost respect for his opponent, he prefers to fight dirty, and never fights fair. And as flamboyant as his style can be, it is vicious.
+ As the Right Hand man of the most powerful man in France (other then Napoleon, naturally), he has quite a bit of political power and influence, and command over an entire elite army (The Cardinal's Guard).
+ An enormous flying ship designed by Leonardo Da Vinci, with a repeater cannon based machine gun, an ancient Italian flame thrower (Greek Fire?) and a gas bag that doesn't seem to be based on nitrogen, what with the lack of cataclysmic explosion despite the said Greek Fire.
+/- An excellent strategist and horseman, however he's not particularly skilled in the operation of his vessel, or knowledgeable about naval combat. Really,
- Has only survived Napoleon's regime thanks to the patronage of Richelieu, and even so had to give up his noble title. Should he fail the cardinal, he can look forward to a guillotine.
- Is quite possibly insane, he certainly seems far too keen to utilize violence as an option, enjoys it far too much, and terrifies his men with his willingness to brutalize them over the slightest provocation. And often fails to keep his head in the game, getting sidetracked by the opportunity to hurt people.

[Grif]

I ended up doing a hybrid of Tintin-verse history and some of my own creative splicing.

[Cracklord]

Also, I'm liking the characters we have so far. Lets check the boxes. An eyepatch? Check. A wooden leg? Check (Long John Silver). A hook for a hand? Double check. A monkey will have to do for a parrot, but we have the scallywag swagger pretty well. So lets consider a classic, and a character from 'On Stranger Tides':

Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard.
http://www.milesteves.com/gallery/d/2541-2/Blackbeard+McShane-01-revision-web.jpg
+ Forty Cannon on the Queen Anne's Revenge, beat that.
+ Expert Swordsman, though hardly a master, and one of the toughest men ever born. Lights his beard on fire to make him seem more fearsome, and can snap a farthing between two fingers. It takes a lot of injuries to take this man out of action.
+ A terrible and merciless reputation that leaves most in utter terror of the man, with good reason, as he's gone out of his way to cultivate it.
+ Comes strapped with six pistols and a magic sword that allows him to sail his ship with his mind, though he prefers to leave that to his crew.
+ Voodoo powers lets him resurrect the dead, including himself, and some other, less defined powers, like trapping ships in Rum bottles.
+ Fearsomely intelligent, and while he plays up his brutality and savagery is a very manipulative man.
- His fearsome reputation can make negotiation difficult, and means there is a long list of people who want to chop his head off and hang it from a rope. As such, after burning every bridge he ever came to, he is not welcome pretty much anywhere, and is a loner even by pirate standards, out of necessity.
- Lacks a loyal crew, aside from the zombified officers they were all shanghaied, and are kept in line through fear.

[Hattish Thing]

With all the piratey outlaw types here, I'm thinking we need something sorta new. How about a pirate hunter?

Captain William Kidd, Privateer and Pirate Hunter under the English Navy:

+ The Adventure Galley (His ship) was well suited to the task of catching pirates; weighing over 284 tons, equipped with 34 cannons, and 150 men.
+Elite crewmembers trained hard and long to know exactly how to bring down pirates of any kind.
+Has the British Navy backing him.
+Fairly good fighting skills.
+Scottish accent and nice hat. Cause you've got to have the nice hat. A really big one. ;P
+Connections to high British Nobility.
-Doesn't get along well with most pirates, making negotiation difficult.
-No magical powers.
-Known to be extremely cruel to pirates and merciless, which usually bars him from passing by any pirate ports.
-He is mortal and prone to fear. Meaning skeletons, Davy Jones, Sea Monsters, and other nasties can possibly send him sailing away as fast as humanly possibly.

[PurityIcekiller]

I apologize for my slow posting. I've been a little busy, and it's hard to keep up with people who are eager to continue the action without you. Your patience is appreciated.

[Aric Kale]

With all the piratey outlaw types here, I'm thinking we need something sorta new. How about a pirate hunter?

Captain William Kidd, Privateer and Pirate Hunter under the English Navy:

+ The Adventure Galley (His ship) was well suited to the task of catching pirates; weighing over 284 tons, equipped with 34 cannons, and 150 men.
+Elite crewmembers trained hard and long to know exactly how to bring down pirates of any kind.
+Has the British Navy backing him.
+Fairly good fighting skills.
+Scottish accent and nice hat. Cause you've got to have the nice hat. A really big one. ;P


A think a pirate hunter could be cool; you just neglected to mention any cons to your character/crew

[Corvond]

i know just the guy. When this guy rolls into town, pirates, privateers and kings tremble and quake, and people fight to get out of his way.


http://www.compleatseanbean.com/mainsharpepic.jpg
+ Can fire three rounds a minute in any weather. Six on a clear day. And give him a sword, and watch the bodies fly. He specializes in clearing vast numbers of people, but is adequate enough in a duel.
+ Sharpe doesn't believe in fighting fair, so expect to see him use every dirty trick in the book in order to win, whether a fight, a battle or a war. These include switching uniforms, ambushing enemy troops, frequent use of Groin Attacks, luring enemies into positions where they can be shot by the French, playing dead, and everything else.
+ He has a strong sense of honour, is fiercely loyal to his friends, implacable towards his enemies, and irresistible to women - countesses to courtesans, they can't seem to resist him - although being a good man he only takes advantage of them if he's sure they absolutely want to be taken advantage of and it won't get them into trouble later.
+ Sharpe saved the life of Sir Arthur, Duke of Wellington, from at least half-a-dozen Maratha warriors. This gives him a friend in a high place indeed, although more often a source of work then anything else.
+ Despite being poor and lacking 'gentlemanly conduct', Sharpe achieves further promotions on his merit alone, rising to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, and earning his regiment an incredible list of honors, not least capturing a regiments eagle.
+ He fights brilliantly – he's tough, cunning, and relentless, and men follow him willingly. He also has a fair share of the luck that can take a man far in war. He learns how to inspire loyalty in common soldiers, having started out as one of them, and he gives his loyalty to them unreservedly.
+ Sharpe's field experience, rough nature and damn good fighting skills give him an advantage when it comes to commanding soldiers. He leads from the front with a Baker rifle and massive Heavy Cavalry sword, and never far from his side is longtime friend Sgt. Patrick Harper and the 'Chosen Men', a unit of elite riflemen.
- Not taken seriously by gentleman of quality, who see him as a jumped-up arrogant upstart gutter-born bastard sergeant who has no business leading anybody and needs to be taught his place.
- The fact that he's so good at it only makes them hate him more. Sharpe has some serious enemies, officers rich enough not only to buy a commission but buy their way into parliament. If not for Wellington...

And now in contrast, and because Sharpe needs someone to cart him around:


http://us.cdn003.fansshare.com/photos/ioangruffudd/hornblower-wallpaper-ioan-gruffudd-205260475.jpg
+ Somewhat shy and awkward in his interaction, particularly without rank and precedent to act as a crutch, but with a knack for innovation and an inner drive that propels him to attempt improbable and daring feats.
+ Hornblower is skilled at playing politics and manipulating others, using charm, wit and an in-depth knowledge of human nature.
+ Hornblower is profoundly aware of the difference between the right thing to do and the logical thing to do.
+ Hornblower is an honorable, dutiful, and humble man with a limitless resevoir of both moral and physical courage.
- However, he's also a brooding, melancholic mess whose view of himself is often actual self-loathing, and his courage is matched only by his cowardice in matters of the heart.
- Hornblower might be a brilliant captain, but couldn't match the men's physical capacity for backbreaking work or brawling. He's a good shot, but nothing to write home about with a sword.
- Tone-deaf and never gets over seasickness, much to his humiliation.

Oh, and the HMS Renown? Ship of the Line, 74 guns.

[The Tygre]

... *snaps* Got it.

Captain Nemo (Prince Dakkar)

http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090808182811/lxg/images/8/82/Nemo.png

+ Man of Science: Nemo is one of the world leading engineers and scientists. He is capable of manufacturing all manner of strange device, powered by clockwork and steam, provided he has time and resources.
+ Neptune's Bounty: Nemo is well acquainted with the watery world, both aquatic and marine. He knows the locations of major underwater landmarks, marine biology, and how best to use oceanic resources for his gain.
+ Terror of the Deep: Nemo has, of course, turned some of his science to more offensive measures. The Nautilus, while not as weaponized as a warship, still has its own defensive weapons, and carries an arsenal of weapons for Nemo and his crew, including the Captains artillery of harpoon machine-guns. Nemo himself is also an expert swords-man, keeping a scimitar with him at all times, and does not shy away from open combat.
= Enemy of the Empire: Above all, Nemo has a vendetta against the British Empire, and seeks nothing more than the liberation of his homeland, India. While this made him a monster in the eyes of the Empire (comparable even to Napoleon), it garners him sympathy with Britain's enemies and his own people. However, Nemo is not above allying himself with individual British if it can provide him adventure or is necessary. One of his close friends is the adventurer Allan Quartermain, for instance.
- Mad-man: Though a genius, Nemo is undeniably mentally unstable. He is as prone to fits of rage as much as doldrums of melancholy. Periods of inactivity make him sombre, and a surge of action can drive him to berserk fury. He is a fanatic driven by revenge to an almost religious zealousy, but at times is shaken by the loss of his family, crew-members, and even the deaths of his enemies.
- One, True Love: As much as Nemo wishes to see his homeland free, he adores the world's oceans. As such, he will take no action or participate in any event that he feels would harm the marine ecosystem, and tends to bear a grudge against any who do not respect the sea.

The Nautilus II

http://static2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090808105030/lxg/images/7/79/Nautilus.png

+ Deep sea submersible
+ Electric defense system
+ Melee fighter; tentacles, functioning mouth, ramming capability
= Crew: First-mate; Ishmael. Other notable; Broad Arrow Jack. Ishmael and Jack are loyal, as are a number of Nemo's crew. Nemo is a compassionate captain who tries to provide the best for his crew, and genuinely mourns every loss. However, his fits of insanity have lead to mutiny in the past.
= Resources: Despite Nemo's resourcefulness and engineering skills, the Nautilus has had several close run-ins with destruction. Few ports will cater to the ship, so the majority of its resources are taken from the sea itself or piracy.

[Cracklord]

Hey Tygre. I must say, excellent choice, though you might want to drop the League of Extraordinary Gentleman connection. That might be a tad too much the wrong genre. :smallwink:

I think a bit more information and context in the case of Captain Kidd might go a long way as well.

[Aric Kale]

Here's a bit on The Black Pearl, and yes, I pilfered all of this from wikis...

The Black Pearl is moderately armed. It carries 32 twelve-pound cannons: 18 on the gun deck and 14 on the upper deck. Its full broadside contains 16 cannonballs and weighs 192 lb. However, it has no chasing guns.

If all the ship's lamps are blown out then the ship is no longer visible on the sea thanks to her black hull and sails.

She flies a jib, a forestaysail, a foresail, a foretopsail, a foretopgallant sail, a mainsail, a topsail, a topgallant sail, a mizzen lateen sail, a mizzen topsail, a main staysail, and a topmast staysail.
Due to the seemingly ridiculous amount of sails, The Black Pearl is considered the fastest ship in the seven seas, outrunning both The Flying Dutchman and The HMS Interceptor.

Captain Barbossa implemented an ingenious system of oars on one of the lower decks. It allowed a detachment of his pirates to act as a galley crew. Adding maneuverability in shallow waters and small boosts of even greater speed.

[darkblade]

Sorry I haven't posted yet I've had a busy day and attempts to post from my phone turned into a formatting nightmare.

Everyone is approved but I am cutting off characters now before the sea is too densely populated.

[Grif]

All these stats make me think I should at least write up a sheet for Haddock as well. :smallannoyed:

(Although I think by now, he's by far the most mundane of them all.)

[Cracklord]

The sheets are mostly a hold over from the earlier games, where characters often had complex abilities that needed to be defined beforehand so as to keep the game fun for everyone.

[darkblade]

Really I just use them to see if you know your characters well enough to handle them in the middle of a massive crossover. If it looks like you're winging it with someone you barely know I'd politely suggest you try finding someone else.

[Cracklord]

By the way, exceptional take on the Don. You've got him just about perfect, except for his cunning martial strategies. A quote from the book:


"Why don't you overwhelm them, you cowardly rabble? You're not doing it properly! Disarm them by letting them stab you, and roll away with their swords! Collapse on them, you filth!"

[darkblade]

He's a real character? I thought he was just a joke character you made up. His name is Lardo for crying out loud.

[Grif]

And then the depth of my ignorance of sea-faring vessels dawned on me.

This might take awhile. :smalltongue:

[doliest]

And then the depth of my ignorance of sea-faring vessels dawned on me.

This might take awhile. :smalltongue:

Don't worry- you're in good company. I've only ever been on small boats, and never across an ocean.

Oh, and the number of seafaring works I know in-depth would fit on one hand. Like I said, if Jones hadn't worked, I would have gone for Hook from ONce Upon A Time, and if that didn't work....eh, probably a One Piece character.
...
By the way, so just counting, we're now at
3. 3 Settings that aren't even connected to Earth in the mix. Ah ah ah. I look forward to the canon wielding that will be involved. :smallbiggrin:

[darkblade]

Equestria is just part of Neverland.

The bending Nations are just replacing most of Asia.

London now has elements of New Crobuzon. It and Armada are the only parts of Bas-Lag that are going to show up here. I just wanted Armada because it's freaking badass.

[Cracklord]

I figure, period wise, it's Victorian England without an Industrial Revolution. Steamships and the like exist, but aren't common because of the work to build them and maintain them.

http://i3.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article769551.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/The%20Pirates!-769551


He's a real character? I thought he was just a joke character you made up. His name is Lardo for crying out loud.

I know. Avery is a parody. A reconstructive one mind, but a parody nonetheless. What, didn't my playing style give it away? He's a joke on Pirate genre and Historical Fiction.

[Draxx]

Heh. Excellent reference.

[Corvond]

I don't know anything about that Armada. Should I assume my characters are likewise in the dark, or should I do some research?

[darkblade]

What I mentioned in the post should be about all your characters would probably know.

[Hattish Thing]

Allright, there we go. I've drawn Captain Kidd, and his ship, The Adventure Galley! :D

http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s440/Singingnoodle/AdventureGalley.pnghttp://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s440/Singingnoodle/Kidd.png

[Draxx]

You have a real talent for that. He looks awesome.

[Hattish Thing]

You have a real talent for that. He looks awesome.

That made me happy inside. So have a Blackbeard. Free of charge.

http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s440/Singingnoodle/Blackbeard.png

[Draxx]

That made me happy inside. So have a Blackbeard. Free of charge.

http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s440/Singingnoodle/Blackbeard.png

And I didn't get you anything...

Much appreciated. You've captured his essence.

[Cracklord]

So, Kidd versus Avery. This will be interesting.

[darkblade]

I think Avatar is going to have a much larger impact on this game than originally planned. I originally just included them because I wanted modern empowered Asian fantasy characters to destroy a historical vessel of Asian exploitation.

[Aric Kale]

Hey, Cracklord, it's up to NoodleHat, but have you heard of defender's choice, and always attempting actions against a PC? Whether him being able to dodge is logical or not, you can't just say "I stab him while he reloads." Or interpret his own actions, assuming he'd be breathing heavily.

Also, darkblade, did you miss my last post?

[AnimeKid]

Huh, did Luffy just pick up some of that cursed gold that Barbossa is looking for?

[Cracklord]

Hey, Cracklord, it's up to NoodleHat, but have you heard of defender's choice, and always attempting actions against a PC? Whether him being able to dodge is logical or not, you can't just say "I stab him while he reloads." Or interpret his own actions, assuming he'd be breathing heavily.

Also, darkblade, did you miss my last post?

Didn't think I was being too prescriptive. Though it is quite possible I was being so. Where exactly do you think I took unreasonable liberties?

[Aric Kale]

Avery
"That's going to be a problem. I only know how to win." A wiser part of Avery was aware there was something amiss here. He was an officer in the Royal Navy, and furthermore had a privateer license, so there had to have been some manner of mix-up. A reasonable part of him, that had gotten him into trouble innumerable times, urged him to offer parley, and reason it out, however, for once, it did not win over. The man had shot his close friend in the back, and was currently staying with a Spanish Nobleman of the basest sort. Doubtless the man was a traitor, perhaps even in the pocket of the French. And even if it was a misunderstanding, he doubted Kidd was the reasoning sort. All this flashed through his mind as he sees Kidd lowering the gun and, guessing his opponent's intentions, he charged.

Kidd worked commendably quickly, but time was against him. He has to put one of his pistols down to free his hand to reload the other, to get his fresh bullets and powder horn, and in the dark it becomes a far more risky proposition that merits care and precision. The result is that he gets off a single shot that takes Avery in the right shoulder as he charges, making the Captain grimace and switch hands. He's not ambidextrous, with his left hand he'll be at a considerable disadvantage, but he won't be able to fight with his right after receiving a bullet wound.

He saluted the Pirate hunter with his thin Damascene steel epee, the finger rings rattling on the blade as he did so, then caught the opening thrust and skillfully turned it aside. Avery, despite his handicap, moved with sublime grace and accuracy, the two blades wheeling and glittering in the low murk, too fast for the eye to follow, dancing with a life of their own in an aerial pas de deux and seeking holes in the others defenses. Avery smiled as he pinked the Pirate hunters arm. It turned into a laugh as he cut open a nasty gash above the older mans eye. [You cannot say if you are successful; It's Hatter's choice] There was no room to maneuver or for footwork, such were the confines of the tunnel. But for the sway of their torsos, they might as well have been immobilized as they jabbed and slashed. But Avery was younger, a shade quicker and bolder, and his sword was a fraction longer, which made all the difference. Both men breathed hard now. Avery fought dynamically, concentrating on the offensive. He was bleeding heavily from the wound in his shoulder, and the superficial cuts he'd taken in the earlier fight, and fatigue would set in soon. He had to win before he lost too much, and his powers ebbed sufficiently to weaken him.

"You might make good practice for my niece. Although five-year-olds usually prefer the illusion of a challenge." He taunted, the laughter in his voice making his mockery all the more cutting.

I've put the main issues in bold and underlined what I find to be relatively minor, with the addition of some [notes]. Basically, in combat, I've always been taught that without express permission of your opponent, you cannot say what they do or how successful your attack is. Some control/description of the area is fine, but a PC is off-limits.
I don't want to sound like I'm harping on you, these are just things that are generally understood in Nexus-freeform, and if the above post was directed at me, I would not be ok with it.

[darkblade]

Kale is right, tone Avery down a little. You can say he is trying to incapacitate Kidd in various descriptive ways but you cannot say that it happens.

[Cracklord]

I've put the main issues in bold and underlined what I find to be relatively minor, with the addition of some [notes]. Basically, in combat, I've always been taught that without express permission of your opponent, you cannot say what they do or how successful your attack is. Some control/description of the area is fine, but a PC is off-limits.
I don't want to sound like I'm harping on you, these are just things that are generally understood in Nexus-freeform, and if the above post was directed at me, I would not be ok with it.

Fair enough. I just try to tell a story, and if I get directed a post like that try to work in with it and accommodate it. But if you understand things to be different, I'll try to adapt to you.

Just to be clear, you seem absolutely fine with my opening description of the duel. Yet that's an assumption, I assume he does try to fight back and does not (for example) run like a rabbit the second I step forward. So should I get rid of that as well?

[Aric Kale]

I understand, and in that regard you are an excellent writer. Just keep PvP in mind while you spin your tales.
I think Hatter is fairly evident in his own post that he intends to engage in combat, so your intro is fine.

[Cracklord]

I understand, and in that regard you are an excellent writer. Just keep PvP in mind while you spin your tales.
I think Hatter is fairly evident in his own post that he intends to engage in combat, so your intro is fine.

Ah. See, to me Roleplay has always been a collaborative effort. If he decides he needs to kill Avery to continue his story (for example) and made it suitably awesome, I wouldn't care a whit. I'd just ask Darkblade if he's cool with me looking up another character. But I understand where your coming from, and why what might usually be the case in our little closed part of the Forum might not be the case elsewhere. If you don't mind, keep an eye on me, and warn me should I do such a thing again.

[Aric Kale]

I too agree that RP is a collaborative effort, but character death should typically be discussed beforehand.
Alright, thanks for taking this so well. I've met some who don't.

[Grif]

Ah. See, to me Roleplay has always been a collaborative effort. If he decides he needs to kill Avery to continue his story (for example) and made it suitably awesome, I wouldn't care a whit. I'd just ask Darkblade if he's cool with me looking up another character. But I understand where your coming from, and why what might usually be the case in our little closed part of the Forum might not be the case elsewhere. If you don't mind, keep an eye on me, and warn me should I do such a thing again.

Not many like their characters being killed, no matter how awesomely it is described. :smalltongue:

Simple rule to keep in mind is that you should never assume what the other character does, and all your actions should contain qualifiers.

Eg. instead of "Avery cuts Hook open to spill his guts.", it would be more appropriate to say "Avery aims a slash at Hook's midsection."

[Aric Kale]

Here's (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16579630&postcount=713) an example of attempted actions. Sorry for using myself. :smalltongue:
The rest of the battle is pretty cool, if you wanna check out the thread.

[Draxx]

Eh, it's more challenging if your characters continued existence is entirely based on how cool it is to have you around.

[Cracklord]

Well, failing the sudden apperance of Dr Stephen Maturin, physician, naturalist, and super-spy extraordinaire
http://clothesmonaut.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/master-and-commander-maturin-on-shore.jpg
I suggest, if you wish to save your hand, you follow the example of Götz von Berlichingen.

[Hattish Thing]

Well, failing the sudden apperance of Dr Stephen Maturin, physician, naturalist, and super-spy extraordinaire
http://clothesmonaut.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/master-and-commander-maturin-on-shore.jpg
I suggest, if you wish to save your hand, you follow the example of Götz von Berlichingen.

That makes me so happy that you know who that is. Twas precisely what I was thinking. Though I don't think I can keep his catchphrase for Kidd. :P Not forum-friendly, haha. But, yeah. Iron hand would be very cool. It'd be his sword hand.

[Cracklord]

Yes, I am blessed with surprising depth of knowledge in a range of esoteric subjects.

[Grif]

Mmmm. Gonna let darkblade to rule whether or not the shot hits. It probably does, but where and what, well, probably best left to a neutral arbitrator.

[AnimeKid]

Hey Darkblade are those the some of the cursed coins Barbossa is after that just got handed to Luffy?

[darkblade]

They are indeed.

[industrious]

Working on finals week at the moment, so won't be able to post until Saturday at least. Also, I'm thinking playing a whale might not be the best possible option for this game.

[darkblade]

If you want you could play a more traditional fantasy character and I could put you on someone else's boat.

[Draxx]

Mmmm. Gonna let darkblade to rule whether or not the shot hits. It probably does, but where and what, well, probably best left to a neutral arbitrator.

Yeah, I'm just going to assume my guys are competent enough to fire the cannon and hit you where they aimed, since, from a meta perspective if you escape then there really is no progression, and we both just wander until we run into someone else.

If that makes me God-moding then so be it, but if we need intervention to decide something so basic then this will get tedious very fast.


Also, I'm thinking playing a whale might not be the best possible option for this game.

Personally, I think it could be awesome.

[darkblade]

I'm going to say it's probably for the best if Hook hits Haddock.

[Aric Kale]

Honestly, in PvP, who ever is at risk of damage decides the effectiveness of an attack. This isn't Tabletop, so there aren't any dice, and the GM wouldn't typically make this decision. For Hook to say it hits makes it godmodding.

The best choice is for Haddock to declare whether or not he's hit and how effective it is. Not every live/die attack has to he received as such, as long as you are respecting the other player in your reaction.

[Draxx]

Why? Not to put to fine a point on it, I am the one with agency here. I am the one with cannon, who aims it, gauges the right time to strike, then pulls the trigger. Worst still, he wasn't even trying to dodge (admittedly not really plausible in most ships). I don't think my characters competence should be entirely defined by other people.

Now maybe I'm just set in my ways, but I think that the game would be tremendously improved by trusting one another rather then squabbling over jurisdiction, and contributing to one another's ideas then bickering about who gets to decide what happens.

[Aric Kale]

Free Form Combat is based entirely on an honor system, based around the defender. There will always be those who abuse their power, but the hope is that everyone will be mature and responsible.
I haven't had any issues with "squabbling over jurisdiction", as you put it, before now. I think the concept was easy for me to pick up on because I boffer.
For those of you who don't know, boffering is combat with foam&pvc pipe medieval-style weapons. In the rules, whoever is hit is supposed to call out where they're are struck immediately afterwards. While this doesn't always work out, it's usually a smooth honor system of people sparring for the fun of it. The "defender" has to call out because it's always possible that the attacker hit an invalid target, or just saw something incorrectly.
Similarly, in FFRP, the defender is the only one who can say if they are hit. Now, as you say, it's only logical that your attack will strike true, and an honorable opponent will say so. Combat quickly loses its entertainment value if the one dealing damage says whether or not they're successful, as I could "decide" that Barbossa has a freak display of agility and decapitates [insert character]. Likewise, if the defender always dodges or takes no injuries with no logical explanation, that is also godmodding.

As you say, the game runs smoothly when there is no bickering over who decides, and typically, in my experience that has always been the defender-even before I joined the Nexus.
I've been roleplaying for nearly four years now, and while I wouldn't dare claim to be a great roleplayer even now, I've never heard of the Attacker declaring if his or her attack succeeds.

To return to your first point...you know your crew; Grif doesn't.
For all you know, Haddock has some secret defense/weapon that his player has refrained from sharing. That could change everything...

No tl;dr.

[Cracklord]

Just drop it, Draxx. Sure, it might take some getting used to, but just accommodate people rather then trying to get them to accommodate you.

[Aric Kale]

I copied this over from the Nexus OoC thread, if that helps at all. Sorry for causing a fuss.


Why We Fight: A Proposed Advanced Style And Concept Guide for Individual FFRP Combat By Neon Knight
Foreword
[SPOILER]This guide is intended as a supplement to currently existing guides and practices relating to the employment of combat in FFRP. The author makes no pretensions that this guide is authoritative or useful until endorsed by the community. The author also makes no pretensions that he has perfectly adhered to the principles in this guide, nor that such a thing is possible. Everyone makes slip up sometimes. The author also makes no pretensions that these materials, observations, and recommendations are wholly original.

Introduction
Combat is an interesting subject in FFRP. FFRP is an interactive, cooperative endeavor, but combat serves a different purpose in FFRP than it does in other interactive, cooperative activities that FFRP might be patterned off of, like video games and table top RPGs. FFRP combat, rather, is more akin to a fight scene in a movie, book, or play. Another analogy may be that FFRP combat is not like an MMA match, which is truly competitive, but rather like professional wrestling, which is an arranged, choreographed performance intended to tell a story. FFRP is cooperative storytelling, and it remains so, even during a fight or action scene.

Why Competitive Combat Doesn't Work in FFRP
Competitive Combat does not work in FFRP for a variety of reasons, a few that I will outline here. The only method of interaction in FFRP is assertions. You assert some fact is true by the act of declaring it, by writing down that it happens. You can only assert so long as your assertions do not impede on anyone else's right to assert, at least for their own property and characters. In a fight, the only way to compete is to assert, but the effectiveness of your assertions are entirely determined by the recipient. A fight in which both people want to win usually becomes nothing more than an escalating series of assertions of power and lethality, until the knobs snap off at 11, and no one can go higher without being ridiculous. Characters receive power upgrades on the fly, just to keep up, or to try and top the latest assertions. It's a messy and ugly affair that many people have professed a dislike for.

The Ideal of Cooperative Combat
Combat in FFRP should be cooperative rather than competitive, which by and large is the same purpose that most posts in FFRP serve. Combat should serve to tell a story and add to storytelling, provide drama and tension through physical peril, and to entertain through description. When your characters get into a fight, the ideal is to make that fight a meaning contribution to the plot, whether that be your character's overall arc, the plot of the other characters in the fight, the specific plot of the fight or place where the fight is taking... you get the idea. You should cooperate and coordinate with other players to make sure that you're all on the same page, fulfilling the proper purposes, and not stepping on anyone else's toes. Sometimes, you might not get to work towards the purpose you necessarily want, but compromise is one of the necessary parts of cooperation. This is the ideal of Cooperative Combat: to have fight scenes serve to support continuing plot lines and interaction, to serve the interests, needs, and stories of as many players as possible as harmoniously as possible, which is the same ideal for normal interaction.

What those purposes are will vary from fight to fight and plot to plot. Communicating with players in the plot and fight before, during, and after the occasion is ideal.

Covering Yourself and the Enemy in Glory
One of the few precepts that should be near universally applied is the idea of covering yourself and the other participants in the combat with glory. By that, I mean you should try to reinforce their assertions with your own descriptions and actions. A player can say that their character is a master marksman, but he really becomes and feels like a master marksman when other players respond to him like he is a master marksman, when their choices, descriptions, and actions reflect this status. When others assert your own assertions, that is when they become real and powerful in FFRP.

This is why it is important to try and help people assert their characters, whenever you can, and why it is important that they do the same to you. Only together can you realize each character's power level and abilities. This is also why purpose and cooperation are important. Clashing purposes are often what cause inappropriate escalation. If your purpose is to kill a character while their purpose is to survive the encounter, the other player will have a hard time reinforcing your power while fulfilling their purpose.

Selling the Hits
"Selling" a hit is wrestling terminology for acting as if a blow really hurt or serious injured/impaired you. A similar concept can be applied to the Nexus; selling is the act of briefly bowing to the assertions, that is, attacks of other players and letting them affect you. Selling is something that requires both people to meet halfway. The attack has to be appropriate in order to get sold; appropriate for the purpose and goal of the fight. The response has to acknowledge and account for the attack.

Thus, selling is something you need to keep in mind when designing a post, and when designing your character. You need to make sure your attacks and defenses allow both you and the other side to sell the hits, to avoid pointless exchanges were nothing really gets accomplished. A string of misses often adds nothing to the conflict or the plot, and doesn't move the action closer to resolution.

My suggestion is to try and design graded consequences for your abilities. For example, here is a suggested consequences list for an attack with a gun:

No Consequence: Total miss.

Minor Consequence: Grazing hit, or a hit in an armored location with minimum impact, character becomes more cautious/less aggressive, an item of minor importance is hit/lost.

Moderate Consequence: Flesh wound, character takes cover and doesn't act, character is forced to fall back, an item of importance is hit/lost.

Major Consequence: A disabling injury/injury requiring medical condition is sustained, character becomes pinned and temporarily unwilling to fight/risk self further, character begins to fallback, an item of major importance is hit/lost.

Full Consequence: Life threatening injury, death, retreat/rout, surrender, etc.

In general, you should take the consequences that are appropriate for the fight, and for the goals that the fight is intended to fulfill. But, in general, No Consequence hits should be used sparingly. Consequence lists will differ from fight to fight, situation to situation, character to character, and possibly from attack to attack. You don't have to have a response for every type of consequence. In general:

A No Consequence Hit does not move the fight closer to resolution. It has no real consequences on the fight or on the character.

A Minor Consequence Hit does not move the fight closer to resolution, at least not appreciably, but it is intended to have minor consequences for the immediate fight and for the character. These consequences aren't intended to be long term.

A Moderate Consequence Hit is intended to slightly move the fight closer to resolution, and has some consequences for the character. It is intended to last somewhat longer than a minor consequence.

A Major Consequence Hit is intended to move the fight rapidly towards a conclusion, and is intended to have consequences that last for some time or require some action to redress.

A Full Consequence Hit is an attack at maximum effectiveness, intended to move the fight immediately to a resolved state. It is intended to have long term/permanent consequences or to require severe effort to redress.

Another proposed consequence list, this time for a sleep spell:

No: The subject is not affected by the magic.

Minor: The subject feels fatigued or slightly sleepy, but not enough to seriously impair ability, only enough to take the edge off their prowess.

Moderate: The subject feels fatigued, unable to perform at top condition, and may suffer a temporary lapse in concentration or focus. The subject might fall into a micro sleep for an instant or for a few seconds.

Major Consequence: The subject may lose focus for several seconds, and may become so tired as to need to actively fight to stay awake. They might fall asleep for several seconds.

Full Consequence: The subject falls entirely asleep, or is so disabled as to be helpless.

These are not the only gradations you can offer. Different scales might work better, either for specific, individual cases, or in general. But having the ability to mitigate an attack to the exact degree of harm and effectiveness to be suitable for the purpose of the fight is an advantage. Avoid all or nothing powers, except if that's supposed to be the point (of the character, the fight, or the plot) and if you do so, be fully prepared and ready to accept a series of No Consequence Hits. When going for all or nothing, make sure that both the all and the nothing are as acceptable and widely applicable as possible.

[Draxx]

Look, I understand that it's a perfectly legitimate way to roleplay, I just prefer not to use it, and even if it's not as widely held as yours, I think my opinion is just as reasonable and worthy of respect.

To begin with, you talk about precedent as though it is gospel. Now there is nothing wrong with precedent, however makes the assumption that we are using said model, which I'm not entirely sure we are.

The whole honor system is based around the presupposition that I am incapable of keeping any sort of perspective when I write my character, and furthermore places the control of my character's actions in somebody else's hands in an attempt to keep me from being prescriptive to somebody elses character. Which seems to me to be self-defeating, limit my opportunity for description, and take a lot of the flavor away. It's open to abuse, but find me a system that isn't. Like any system, it depends upon people not abusing it, which I do not feel I am.

To extend the sport metaphor, I personally play Rugby, which yes, has an impartial overseer whose job is to make decisions. But fundamentally, the best games of rugby both to play and to watch are the ones when he doesn't have to blow his whistle very often. Of course it's not a very good example here, because the fundamental difference is that this is not, and is in no way, a competition. In Rugby, or in sparring, the idea is to win. Sure, having fun is up there, but the fun comes from testing yourself, from attempting to do better then anyone else. That's not the aim in a good roleplay session.

Yes, people develop an investment in their characters (I could dredge through our archives and find a few examples, myself among them), but I feel they should be at risk from more then just player capriciousness. We're not sparring. We shouldn't be at odds. A better comparison would be choreography, taking diverse parts and trying to work them into one thing by weaving them together in exciting ways, and trying to enrich both our experiences by doing so.

I'm not saying you have to see it my way, but is it really so hard to let me roleplay this way, at least when it doesn't effect you?

[Aric Kale]

I'm not saying you have to see it my way, but is it really so hard to let me roleplay this way, at least when it doesn't effect you?

Alright, I'm not the GM here, I'm just posting my opinion based off of personal experience. If no one has an issue with it, then that is fine.
I only ask that if our characters interact, which is quite possible, that you understand where I'm coming from when I reinterpret your posts as need be.
I realize that sounds bitchy. I really do.

[Draxx]

I don't care in the slightest. If that's what you need to have fun and tell a good story, power to you. But it's not my preference.

[Hattish Thing]

I don't care in the slightest. If that's what you need to have fun and tell a good story, power to you. But it's not my preference.

Well. Um. I do.

I've refrained from saying anything seeing as I'm new to this specific style of roleplay, with one biggish DM type person controlling everything, and didn't want to appear all grumpy and such.

Frankly, everyone here as far as I can see is operating within the regular free form roleplaying rules except for you.

In your posts, imagine if I had Kidd say outright, "Kidd impales his foot into the ground, and punches you in the face, knocking you out."

You'd be out of the battle and at his mercy. Probably dead.

While I like good character deaths, I dont like them often.

It is INCREDIBLY easy to abuse the power that your style of roleplaying uses and it can be very unfair to other players, making them not want to associate with you.

Obviously I can't change the way you're thinking but it seems awfully childish not to slightly change a few things in orderr to work better with everyone else.

Like purposely lynching yourself, which is silly. The goal is for everyone to have fun. Not just you.

[Draxx]

In your posts, imagine if I had Kidd say outright, "Kidd impales his foot into the ground, and punches you in the face, knocking you out."

You'd be out of the battle and at his mercy. Probably dead.

If you look closely, you will note that you are talking about Cracklord. Not myself. I'm flattered, I guess, but keep that in mind, alright?

Now, if I was confronted with that sort of post, I could take it a few ways. The first is throw a tantrum. Not constructive, and pointless, so I think I'll ignore that as a possibility. The next is the obvious, accept it. My guy is dead. Rest in Peace, that's all she wrote, oh woe, oh misfortune, oh misfortune, oh woe.

Well sure, it's a tad anti-climactic, and perhaps I was a bit invested in his story, but I can accept that. My contribution to the game now centers around either a new character, or failing that, if it's too late in the piece to pick up a new character, I ask Darkblade if there is an NPC I can take over. Or, I don't play the martyr and I react to 'Changing Circumstances' rather then insisting I have full control over everything that takes place to my character. The trick is, instead of seeing a set-back, see an opportunity.

Sure, it's exploitable, but so are the rules you are insisting I follow. In said example, what's to stop me saying "HA! You don't get to hit me, Nyah-nyah!" Both roleplaying styles are played on the gentleman's assumption that everyone is going to treat everyone else with a modicum of respect. My way is not inferior to yours just because the of that.

Your objections are all based on the idea that I am going to start laughing maniacally and abusing this power. Which I don't intend to do.

[Grif]

Interesting. My little refrain has spawned the first drama of the RP. Joy.

I'll just say that I want to seek confirmation before I continue, both out of respect to Draxx and to darkblade, since we appear to be running under a biggish DM-style roleplay, as opposed to a pure freeform. If it appears to be tedious to you, then I apologise, but I feel it's best to proceed slowly with everyone's consent, rather than running ahead to risk having to retcon events because everyone disagreed on how it turned out.

I will say I have not run into any specific problem with your style of roleplay, but since you appear to be approaching this in a different manner, I'll have to keep that in mind.

[Hattish Thing]

If you look closely, you will note that you are talking about Cracklord. Not myself. I'm flattered, I guess, but keep that in mind, alright?

Now, if I was confronted with that sort of post, I could take it a few ways. The first is throw a tantrum. Not constructive, and pointless, so I think I'll ignore that as a possibility. The next is the obvious, accept it. My guy is dead. Rest in Peace, that's all she wrote, oh woe, oh misfortune, oh misfortune, oh woe.

Well sure, it's a tad anti-climactic, and perhaps I was a bit invested in his story, but I can accept that. My contribution to the game now centers around either a new character, or failing that, if it's too late in the piece to pick up a new character, I ask Darkblade if there is an NPC I can take over. Or, I don't play the martyr and I react to 'Changing Circumstances' rather then insisting I have full control over everything that takes place to my character. The trick is, instead of seeing a set-back, see an opportunity.

Sure, it's exploitable, but so are the rules you are insisting I follow. In said example, what's to stop me saying "HA! You don't get to hit me, Nyah-nyah!" Both roleplaying styles are played on the gentleman's assumption that everyone is going to treat everyone else with a modicum of respect. My way is not inferior to yours just because the of that.

Your objections are all based on the idea that I am going to start laughing maniacally and abusing this power. Which I don't intend to do.

My apologies, for some reason in my mind I keep thinking it's you in that scene. Ugh. Lack of sleep.

However, I... Must say that while your style of... roleplay can be okay, I guess... It doesn't merge well with the people around here who don't like being told, "I'm shooting a cannon at you. You die. Lol. Make a new character." Its... It tends to piss people off, cause most of the roleplayers here do get really attached to the characters their playing.

Honestly, I think things would work out much easier for everyone if you just even tried to work with the other players. Just a little.

Anti-Climactic deaths are the worst things for a roleplay to have. The whole point of it is to be having fun.

When ______ is killed without even getting the chance to die the way the person playing him would like, it tends to just leave the player kinda upset.

[Hattish Thing]

If you look closely, you will note that you are talking about Cracklord. Not myself. I'm flattered, I guess, but keep that in mind, alright?

Now, if I was confronted with that sort of post, I could take it a few ways. The first is throw a tantrum. Not constructive, and pointless, so I think I'll ignore that as a possibility. The next is the obvious, accept it. My guy is dead. Rest in Peace, that's all she wrote, oh woe, oh misfortune, oh misfortune, oh woe.

Well sure, it's a tad anti-climactic, and perhaps I was a bit invested in his story, but I can accept that. My contribution to the game now centers around either a new character, or failing that, if it's too late in the piece to pick up a new character, I ask Darkblade if there is an NPC I can take over. Or, I don't play the martyr and I react to 'Changing Circumstances' rather then insisting I have full control over everything that takes place to my character. The trick is, instead of seeing a set-back, see an opportunity.

Sure, it's exploitable, but so are the rules you are insisting I follow. In said example, what's to stop me saying "HA! You don't get to hit me, Nyah-nyah!" Both roleplaying styles are played on the gentleman's assumption that everyone is going to treat everyone else with a modicum of respect. My way is not inferior to yours just because the of that.

Your objections are all based on the idea that I am going to start laughing maniacally and abusing this power. Which I don't intend to do.

My apologies, for some reason in my mind I keep thinking it's you in that scene. Ugh. Lack of sleep.

However, I... Must say that while your style of... roleplay can be okay, I guess... It doesn't merge well with the people around here who don't like being told, "I'm shooting a cannon at you. You die. Lol. Make a new character." Its... It tends to piss people off, cause most of the roleplayers here do get really attached to the characters their playing.

Honestly, I think things would work out much easier for everyone if you just even tried to work with the other players. Just a little.

Anti-Climactic deaths are the worst things for a roleplay to have. The whole point of it is to be having fun.

When ______ is killed without even getting the chance to die the way the person playing him would like, it tends to just leave the player kinda upset.

I should hope it be obvious no one sits there laughing manically when you kill off another's character with an attack that automatically hits.

Cause. Um. That'd be a tad frightening. Automatic hits are so unfun. And really difficult to roleplay around.

[Draxx]

Interesting. My little refrain has spawned the first drama of the RP. Joy.

I'll just say that I want to seek confirmation before I continue, both out of respect to Draxx and to darkblade, since we appear to be running under a biggish DM-style roleplay, as opposed to a pure freeform. If it appears to be tedious to you, then I apologise, but I feel it's best to proceed slowly with everyone's consent, rather than running ahead to risk having to retcon events because everyone disagreed on how it turned out.

I will say I have not run into any specific problem with your style of roleplay, but since you appear to be approaching this in a different manner, I'll have to keep that in mind.

Don't worry, I'm keeping it civilized. It's no problem at all, Grif, and it's nothing to do with you. You're quite right to want to keep out of this. But it is to be expected, some players here are used to different styles then others, and so there's going to be a bit of scraping as we get used to each other. hopefully, we can quickly get past this, and get back to having fun.

In this style, The Storyteller isn't a Gamesmaster as such. His job is to set the scene, give us things to interact with, and provide a plot at times, but it's still all unstructured. For what it's worth, Darkblade actually did say me declaring a hit was alright a little earlier, but at the end of the day who cares. Apparently taking any such liberties is not fair to you, so let's leave it in your hands. Would you rather roleplay you escaping my fiendish advances and getting to whatever port you're going to, or would you like to fight some pirates?

[Hattish Thing]

Don't worry, I'm keeping it civilized. It's no problem at all, Grif, and it's nothing to do with you. You're quite right to want to keep out of this. But it is to be expected, some players here are used to different styles then others, and so there's going to be a bit of scraping as we get used to each other. hopefully, we can quickly get past this, and get back to having fun.

In this style, The Storyteller isn't a Gamesmaster as such. His job is to set the scene, give us things to interact with, and provide a plot at times, but it's still all unstructured. For what it's worth, Darkblade actually did say me declaring a hit was alright a little earlier, but at the end of the day who cares. Apparently taking any such liberties is not fair to you, so let's leave it in your hands. Would you rather roleplay you escaping my fiendish advances and getting to whatever port you're going to, or would you like to fight some pirates?


And now you're just being ridiculous. -_-

Obviously talking to you about that like a reasonable human being isn't an option, so whatever.

[ThePhantom]

Can all parties involved with this please calm down. I don't want this one to disappear on me cause of problems.

[darkblade]

Alright it's time for me to step in.

Everytime I've DMed one of these games I have been running it according to the usual free form rules regarding agency of the defender. I am guessing it hasn't been an issue before since personal combat places the agency more directly in the hands of the PCs than ship to ship combat.

That said it was getting a bit unreasonable that a crew of pirates weren't able to hit Haddock's ship. as such in this case I'm going to say that it was justifiable for Draxx to call the hit but the extent of the damage it does is entirely up to Grif.

Does anyone have any issues with this ruling?

[PurityIcekiller]

Oh my, there's been a lot of drama while I was away.

Right. I've been on the receiving end of godmodding before (In fact, there was an attempt to kill one of my characters outright in one RP, although I found a way to avoid it) and I rather despise it. Still, suffering setbacks can advance a story. The question is, would the story advance in a better way if Haddock were to make a getaway, or if he were forced to stay and fight it out?

And for your information, I put my principles before things that could advantage my characters, so if you want to get away, that's all right by me. I'd be a bit disappointed, but not as much as I would be if you took a hit just because you felt pressured.

[Cracklord]

I'm sorry about this, everyone. He's normally a top bloke, he's just a bit under the weather at the moment.

I'll talk to him.

[Grif]

Alright it's time for me to step in.

Everytime I've DMed one of these games I have been running it according to the usual free form rules regarding agency of the defender. I am guessing it hasn't been an issue before since personal combat places the agency more directly in the hands of the PCs than ship to ship combat.

That said it was getting a bit unreasonable that a crew of pirates weren't able to hit Haddock's ship. as such in this case I'm going to say that it was justifiable for Draxx to call the hit but the extent of the damage it does is entirely up to Grif.

Does anyone have any issues with this ruling?

No issue at all. Apologies for the delay. I was researching how much damage a round shot would do to a iron/steel ship. Should have the post up soon.

[darkblade]

Just to make things clear I was not stepping in to step on anyone's toes. I was just wanted to end the fighting quickly and decisively and get back on track.

I know things can be rough over the holidays and that frustration can spill into unrelated things at time. Still, I hope we can just put these problems behind us and just move on to having more fun.

[darkblade]

Sorry I didn't post today. We got a bit of a freak snow storm and I was got up dealing with that all day. I'll try to have one tomorrow.

[Draxx]

I've been immature about this, and Cracklord's right. I feel I'm being misrepresented, but I am arguing for no reason whatsoever. So I'll apologize, and try to accommodate you in future, and hope we can work past this unfavorable impression.

[doliest]

Glad that this all seems to have worked out- as has been said, great game so far and great group over all.

Personal business a bit here- haven't posted the last few days, and will remain true for at least one more. Term papers have been..um...well, 3 15 pagers total, two done with one left to edit and add a few more pages on top. Then just a 6-8er, and hopefully there will be more A's than B's when the dust clears. Then straight on to application season. Joy. Heh.

But should be back on after tomorrow/ in the next 36 hours total. Again, very sorry, and I don't have the best history with notes like these, but well...if anyone is interested, one of them is about Spider Jerusalem and Transmetropolitan as a whole with asides covering John Stewart, Punk, and Sleep Dealer.
.
..
I have some weird courses, okay!? :smallbiggrin::smalltongue:

[Shnyder]

The character is from the game Dishonored, which incidentally neatly explains your whole lack of Industrial Revolution thing (particularly if whales (the fuel source) fight back), and fits in nicely with Assasain's Creed. However, if you don't mind I'll merge certain elements of his backstory with a far more famous and period appropriate character, The Count of Monte Christo (brought back a little, so his friends with Napoleon sympathies have Royalist Sympathies instead). He wants to save Emily, rightful Queen of France from the Revolutionaries, and revenge himself for those who framed him for the murder that started the whole mess (as in the revolution) in the first place. He's spent however many years in prison is appropriate, slowly and methodically planning his revenge, of the cruelest sort.

http://static2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20121212073611/dishonoredvideogame/images/9/9c/Corvo_Attano_Unmasked_Render.png
+ An excellent and efficient swordsman, who used to train by simultaneously fighting three men.
+ However beyond this is his capacity for moving silently, he is renowned for his stealth, and ability to move about unseen and undetected, like a ghost.
+ Corvo is in the possession of unusual specialist gadgetry, including a collapsible, custom-made, feather-light and razor-sharp sword, an awesome and evocative mask, and an exotic hand crossbow that can quickly be reloaded, designed to make use of a range of specialist ammunition.
+ He is under the favor of the Outsider, an enigmatic being. He is, through the mark on his right hand, able to utilize supernatural abilities. These come with no price, The Outsider simply watches to be amused at the chaos he causes.
+ He may teleport short distances, provided he can see his destination.
+ He may see the living and dead through walls.
+ He may silently borrow the senses of an individual in a sort of possession, although he cannot really take control of them beyond subconscious promptings.
+ He may slow time down to an extent, enough to give him time to react to what would otherwise happen instantaneously.
+ He may create gusts of wind, and turn corpses to ash.
+ His vitality, reflexes, agility and perception are also superhuman, though not to a particularly noticeable extent.
+ A heart that whispers creepy secrets, implied to be the heart of the woman he was sworn to serve and failed to protect.
- He is so singularly dedicated, in particular to finding Emily, that he often acts in a way that is eminently destructive, foolish and harmful.
- Also has an obsession with personal vengeance, desiring to completely destroy those who did him wrong. He doesn't want to kill them, but by the time he is done they will most likely wish he had, any mercy he once possessed has been wrung out of him.
- Probably the most wanted man in Europe, what for being blamed for the French Revolution. Most people, once they recognize him, would be, if they have any human decency, obliged to kill him on sight.

[Cracklord]

I have some weird courses, okay!? :smallbiggrin::smalltongue:

This intrigues me. I'm stuck learning about learning about julian Burnside most of the year.

[Draxx]

The thing about the Jolly Roger is that it is, to some extent, given life and form and function by the dreams of children. Which is why, in construction, it's all over the place. A Corvus is a roman era innovation, a crenelated fighting castle existed in an era before canon, and so on. Then again, the game is such an anachronism anyway that who is going to notice?

[darkblade]

So the differences between the holiday seasons as a student and as an adult have caught up to me. As such I'm going to be tied up by Christmas and winter (fracking snow storms) for the next week or so. This means updates will be abysmally slow at least until after boxing day. Sorry about that, I could have planned this a little better and not started right before I'd become too busy.

[Aric Kale]

S'all good, take care of yourself.

[Cracklord]

Take as long as you need. It's always worth the wait.

[darkblade]

Mon Capitaines! I'm Back! My extended Christmas is finally over.

[Cracklord]

Most righteous.

[happyturtle]

((Can you please choose a thread tag, such as [HS], and edit your thread titles to include them? It makes the forum tidier and allows players to find the rp they are looking for. :smallsmile:))

[Aric Kale]

Possibly [HSITP] or [PITP], for Pirates in the Playground

[Cracklord]

I wonder, how would CURSED Barbossa and Blackbeard feel about each other? It's pretty clear that Edward Teach doesn't really have much belief in honor amongst thieves, or even professional courtesy, since he attacks other ships for fun. I suspect Blackbeard attacks anyone he encounters on the open seas on general principle, kills them, then shrinks their ships and makes them part of his locker.

Of course, Barbossa had a much better crew back then, and a few tricks of his own. And while Blackbeard is a necromancer, he doesn't seem to have any particular power over the dead. Beyond the ones he makes personally, I mean.

Death Larsen is a character from a Jack London story, available here (http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/world/readfile?fk_files=1436156). Good reading, if you need for inspiration about the Age of Sail. It's his brother who the bulk of the story concerns, as perhaps the best deconstruction of the Ubersmench I have ever seen. However, Death is far less complex. Essentially, I needed a tyrant to run my ship, and Blackbeard is something of a recluse, a figure of menace who remains in the background so I selected Death, for reasons that should be obvious.

[Aric Kale]

As you said, Barbossa has a few tricks up his sleeve. Not only that, but he's fiercely protective of his ship (though not quite to the same level as Capt. Jack Sparrow, I believe), and his undead crew can fight until their enemies lay dead at the bottom of the ocean. I think Barbossa vs. Blackbeard would be an interesting match. I wonder, would Edward Teach know of Barbossa? Because it is guaranteed that Hector knows of the legendary necromancer.

[Cracklord]

Doubtless, Barbossa has a fearsome reputation of his own, and he's one of the Pirate Lords. For all Blackbeard no longer plays well with others (since he died, and his magic started working, at least), he was once quite a different man (as he demonstrates to Kenway) and he still keeps himself appraised and aware. I imagine he picks over the knowledge of the people he forcible enlists as crew, to keep himself up to date with modern events. But I doubt they have ever met personally.

If they do meet, I imagine he'd want to talk first, if only because he's a collector of the strange, and takes an interest in old magics that he finds. He wouldn't be particularly disposed to attack you, since he is aware that he cannot kill you, but he has no allegiance, and certainly no solidarity, so it's as much a matter of his mood as anything else.

[Aric Kale]

It is true; that would make the most sense. I had never thought of Barbossa as being on an equal level in fame as Blackbeard in the PotC world.
Barbossa isn't likely to aggressively approach Blackbeard unless he feels threatened. Also, I'm not sure what he would be able to collect from the Pearl that Barbossa would be willing to part with.

[Cracklord]

Well in movie one, The Black Pearl was called 'The last 'REAL' pirate threat in the Caribbean', which says something for the man (though Sparrow might have been gilding the lilly), but as counterpoint, witness Jack Sparrow's face when he hears he's with Blackbeard, and again when he actually sees the man. Says it all, really.

As for what he would want, the only thing that would interest him is the cursed gold of Cortez, and Barbossa would be ill-inclined to part with it.

[Jakodee]

Has Edward Teach been taken yet?

[Draxx]

Yeah. Cracklord got Blackbeard, sorry about that.

Hey Grif, you ever coming back?

[Grif]

I distinctly remember waiting on someone. For the life of me, I couldn't remember if that was true.

However, I should also state that I might bow out of this RP, since the serious tone is very much at odds with what I'm looking for. It's not the fault of the players, mind, but this is probably not for me. (I prefer a more light-hearted adventure, as evidenced by my choosing of Haddock in the first place.)

[Draxx]

Ah, well sorry this wasn't what you were looking for, it's been fun.

…Though this doesn't seem all that serious to me.

[Aric Kale]

I feel like I haven't helped with that, having murdered a young lady and plundered a twin.

[Draxx]

Well, yes. I expect Barbossa is going to be facing a lot of guns and British ships, having murdered a governor's daughter. In particular, I imagine Norrington and the cannons of the HMS Dauntless want a word. Of course, that's nothing at all compared to Kidd.

Kidd shot a man in the back. That's the equivalent of taking steroids in a Sport Movie, it's worse then a death sentence.

[Cracklord]

So, after this High Seas adventure reaches it's conclusion, I was thinking I might try my hand at this separate continuity, and run a game. Now we're handling the glorious age of sail in the now, and I was thinking for the follow-up we should go with a personal favorite of mine, Time of Legends. The days of High Adventure, the birthplace of myth and legend.

Sundered from us by gulfs of time and stranger dimensions dreams is the ancient world our ancestors dwelled in, with its towers and skulls and jewels, its swords and sorceries. The days when there were oceans of light and cities in the skies and wild flying beasts of bronze, when man was young and the mountains stretched up to the sky, between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis, and the rise of the sons of Aryas.

An age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars, when gods, demons, and monsters walked the earth. A blend of periods, cultures and mythologies, both fantastic and shockingly familiar.

Anyone interested?

[Draxx]

Sword and Sorcery, eh? Well, I want to play an elf. The most hardcore elf to ever exist. Legolas? Yeah, no.

I want to play Fëanor. I think I'll say that again: I want to play Fëanor. For those unfamiliar with the Silmarillion, he's a pretty bad dude, all told, he burns ships, forges gems, romances babes, smacks dudes up, and doesn't afraid of anything.

The fact is that, much as they might deny it, or claim unawareness of the existence of the character, it is pretty much a scientific FACT:*Deep down, in the darkest recesses of their souls, roughly 90% of men in the world desperately want to be this guy. And they are right to want it.

Fëanor (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Lg2AAXaWCU)

The immortal elf Fëanor, son of Finwe of the Noldor, most loved by Manwe, dressed in his black armor with the light of vengeance in his eyes. Was he a heroic elf, or a villainous elf? Fëanor was all kinds of elf.

He was the greatest of all elves and is responsible for the creation of the Silmarils, yet his refusal to give them up and his subsequent rebellion against Morgoth lead directly to the triumphs and tragedies of the entire first age. He dies like a badass single-handedly taking on Gothmog and band of balrogs, yet doomed his sons by swearing them to the Oath of Fëanor.

http://th07.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/177/3/6/feanor_and_nerdanel_by_aratafinwe-d54yupc.jpg (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33usneSgD0Y)

Doing his thing

+ 'For Fëanor was made the mightiest in all parts of body and mind: in valour, in endurance, in beauty, in understanding, in skill, in strength and subtlety alike: of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and a bright flame was in him.' Get the picture? This is one dude bad enough to rescue any head of state you can name from as many ninjas as you can count.
+ Called the 'Mightiest of the Elves of old', the 'most skilled and durable', Feanor was a warrior king who had the respect of Gods and the unconditional love of his people. Did I forget to mention that he was High King of the Noldor, the Elves of the first Age?
+ His achievements were unparalleled, Fëanor, at the pinnacle of his might, 'in the greatest of his achievements, captured the light of the Two Trees to make the three Silmarils, also called the Great Jewels, though they were not mere glittering stones, they were alive, imperishable, and sacred.' The gods themselves could not replicate them. He was also a scholar of note, and invented the letters that carried his name.
+ When these gems were stolen, he vowed revenge. In pursuit of this worthy goal, he did whatever it took. Murdered his kin in cold blood, exterminated entire races, burned his ships to permanently cut his people off from heaven so they could not back down, ran bare foot over a continent of ice, and charged from his lines to the gates of Angbad to fight balrogs a dozen at a time (the last of these, in retrospect, wasn't a particularly hot idea).
- Fëanor fears nothing, for everything fears him. His overmastering pride and his misplaced chivalry are ultimately his downfall.

[darkblade]

Griff, if you want to step out it's okay. I'll take over as Haddock.

[Draxx]

Right. I'll repost my earlier boarding action, and get to work doing some honest pirating. Yo ho ho and all that.

[Grif]

Griff, if you want to step out it's okay. I'll take over as Haddock.

If you don't mind. I'm not feeling his character anymore, well, that is to say, I'm unsure on how to properly roleplay him in this setting.

Sorry for the inconvenience. It was fun for the brief time I spent here.

[Shnyder]

Some of the references come from this (http://books.google.com.au/books?id=psWWiOfKD8QC&pg=PT23&lpg=PT23&dq=promise+of+blood+Field+Marshal+Tamas&source=bl&ots=3RES2VPLd4&sig=0afIx9lOhscbD3ORufK79fK1SnE&hl=en&sa=X&ei=N-vGUt3vBMGriAek54D4DQ&ved=0CE0Q6AEwBQ#v=onepage&q&f=false) story.

[darkblade]

I made a grand list of things to be random encounters for this game. Strangely enough the first one to turn up is from an episode of Doctor Who that was about pirates as opposed to anything legitimately nautical. Go figure.

[Draxx]

Ah, nothing like a slew of honest piracy to quicken the blood, avast!

[Draxx]

And this is even better. However, should things proceed as I hope, I imagine I shall disappoint you and your desire for vengeance at least one more time.

[Cracklord]

My posts are getting a bit two-fisted tales, aren't they? Ah well, that's a good thing, a little pulp. Though if I start veering too far from the story, Darkblade, reign me in.


http://static2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090311012507/kingkong/en/images/1/11/Skull.jpg

Because I like dinosaurs.

[darkblade]

I actually have plans for Atlantis and you. Kenaway is right, Blackbeard will not like what he is about to find.

[Cracklord]

I actually have plans for Atlantis and you. Kenaway is right, Blackbeard will not like what he is about to find.

That's fine. Just a character like Blackbeard needs a purpose, needs a clear driving role. He's not interesting without one, and I figured Atlantis was nebulous and nautical enough to qualify.

So I take it that Doliest has gone walkabout once more, but is Industrious still playing?

[darkblade]

Animekid, I don't know One Piece well enough to play the Straw Hats off Luffy. You're going to need to take them over before I butcher their personalities too much.

Second I'm going to need to work out who the Pirate Lords of this game are.

Since Barbossa still is a Lord, I'm going to assume that Jack is too, he's just not very involved in this plot currently being in exile after Barbossa stole the Pearl.

I need a slot filled by the Lovers from The Scar so that leaves six more spots.

Since both Barbossa and Jack are dealing with personal matters and aren't really involved in pirate politics at the moment I think it'd be fair for Blackbeard to maintain the title despite a lack of interest. So that leaves five.

I need five more giants of piracy to fill in the gaps.

[Cracklord]

I'll gladly help you out!

http://images.forwallpaper.com/files/thumbs/preview/100/1007758__gold-roger_p.jpg

Well, it's clear (if we're using the One Piece Universe) that the original brethren court was convened under Gold Roger, the First Pirate King. That was in the days of King Charles, so Captain James Hook would be the only one here alive who'd remember him (though Whitebeard may still be alive). Hell, back in the day there's a good chance Hook was a lord himself, along with some other famous pirates. Maybe Blackbeard (back when he was still Johnny Con). We know Davey Jones was involved at some point, but beyond that we don't know a thing.

Chances are, there was already a sort of unofficial code of practices and expectations in play, but Gold Roger took the scum of the earth, the meanest scum of the earth, and turned them into what approaches a nation.

This is also probably your high magic Pirate Period, where Cervantes De Leon and the like join the story, perhaps as allies or perhaps as one of the reasons the alliance happened in the first place.


http://anyonegame.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/ac4-black-flag-emblemac4---who-is-talking-about--ac4-on-picasa-w4n7kg6e.jpg

Something happened, ten or twenty years ago, that's been alluded to but not actually stated. Kenway seemed to have tried to found a new pirate nation, or something similar, and had some serious supporters, Blackbeard among them. What issue did they have with the Brethren Court? What were they trying to achieve? How did it all go wrong? That's an interesting question, but it led to Blackbeard's death (and rebirth), and Kenways honest change in loyalty to the Assassins. For this reason, Blackbeard probably isn't a pirate Lord, although he might have been once. Then again, I doubt anyone is going to go try and take his title and his ship from him any time soon, so he might still be on a technicality…


http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs17/f/2007/162/0/0/the_Bretheren_Court_by_CA2007.jpg

Now, we should go for a range of representation, like they have in the film. They are meant to encompass the entirety of the Buccaneer Lifestyle, after all.

Now we know about Barbossa and Jack Sparrow, as well as the Lover from the Scar(?). Beyond that, blank slate.

I feel Captain Flint, from Treasure Island, has recently passed away and left a vacant seat (perhaps the one that used to belong to Hook). Everyone feels it should go to Silver, but Silver is seemingly uninterested (he wants the buried treasure, buried in Skeleton Island (probably near skull island, where Blackbeard currently is)). So one empty seat.

Sandokan, The Tiger of Malaysia is a definite must. He's possibly even a mentor for Nemo Dakkar, given that his story concerns the same immediate struggle (although an important part of Nemo's character is he's given up fighting and wants to cut himself off from the world, at least in the book)…

I'd like to suggest Captain Blood, but I'm already playing an Errol Flynn pastiche, so instead I suggest The Black Corsair, Emilio of Roccabruna, Lord of Valpenta and of Ventimiglia. Because Italian vendettas deserve to exist as well.

Bartholomew “Black Bart” Roberts of course, who should probably be Pirate King at the moment, if anyone is. Whether he has something to do with the current state of Blackbeard and Kenaway, well we'll see, won't we?

… And now we need a pirate Girl.

[Draxx]

and the Pirates of Penzance

Though Sao Feng could probably stay. He's a pretty cool dude.

[Cracklord]

Alright, so here we go with it:



The Dread Pirate 'Black Bart' Roberts (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odF6w3x6VtA)
http://www.worldofcharun.net/images/thumb/1/1f/Swash.jpg/245px-Swash.jpg
Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea, Current Pirate King, and the most successful Pirate of all time, at least as far as such things are measured. Everything that a hero of historical romance should be; he has terrorized the oceans for twenty years with no sign of slowing down, and never takes prisoners. Had a long, serious feud with Edward Kenaway that split the Brethren Court in half, ten years prior.

So mostly Dread Pirate Roberts (Wesley) but with room for other characters to be worked in, including the Black Flag interpretation of the man.



Sandokan (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PU4Bf1ZR158)
http://www.europeanseason.com/admin/data/sandokanep1-3.jpg
Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean, he's a bad dude who kills tigers bare-handed and terrifies his enemies. A fierce opponent of colonialism, he became a pirate to avenge his father, a Bornean rajah killed by a British-sponsored white man. Now is more or less the de facto ruler of Malaysia, and is a tremendous threat that the East India Trading Company would dearly like to remove.

Sandokan is pretty much fine as he is.



Sao Feng (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvGnZye9Fvs)
http://static2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070608150748/pirates/images/e/ef/Feng_concept.jpg
Pirate Lord of the South China Sea, Sao Feng is a legendary Chinese pirate, well-known as the Pirate Lord of Singapore and a force to be reckoned with. A dangerous man and fierce warrior, Feng controls the port of Singapore from behind the scenes, and with it the sea passages, had an army of Chinese pirates under his command, and used the opulent junk known as the Empress as his flagship. Runs his considerable assets from his bath-house.
Like Blackbeard before him, is a collector of the strange and mysterious, wishing to discover the power and magic that is fading from the world as the Templar Order grows in power, but unlike Blackbeard is yet to actually succeed.

Again, he's there mostly for background, though he could make an interesting ally. Mostly, he needs to be figured out as to how he works as a bender (though being in a bath house all the time and loving steam suggests Fire Nation). For inspiration, read this (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6245901/1/Three_Years_At_Sea).



Captain Jack Sparrow (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scjD_zrHbpA)
http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/p/LRG/20/2095/X6O2D00Z/posters/pirates-of-the-caribbean-captain-jack-sparrow.jpg
Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea, Jack Sparrow was a legendary pirate of the Seven Seas, and the irreverent trickster of the Caribbean. A captain of equally dubious morality and sobriety, a master of self-promotion and self-interest, Jack fought a constant and losing battle with his own best tendencies. Jack's first love was the sea, his second, his beloved ship the Black Pearl. He inherited his title from his father, Captain Teague Sparrow, Keeper of the Code as set down by Morgan and Bartholomew. Ten years past (that date sure seems interesting) he made a deal with Davy Jones, in regards to said ship. Unfortunately, he lost his ship to Hector Barbossa, and is currently the pirate Lord of the pirates of Penzance, who are getting trounced by the British navy. Had a fling with Blackbeard's daughter in the not so distant past.

Jack will doubtless get involved at some point.



Hector Barbossa (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fi6tvcDInVY)
http://th06.deviantart.net/fs23/200H/i/2009/312/8/d/Captain_Hector_Barbossa_by_PrincessTigerLili.jpg
Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, Hector Barbossa was a legendary and ferocious pirate of the Caribbean. A captain of self-serving morality, treacherous and duplicitous spirit, and the master of his own fate, Barbossa was the ultimate survivor. Ruthless and cunning, combining experience with reckless daring, Barbossa was also a deadly enemy and nemesis to Captain Jack Sparrow, whose ship he stole. He found the treasure of Cortés in Isla de Muerta. Upon falling under the Aztec curse, became an undead monster, unable to feel anything, cursed to tedium.

Who is of course sailing in this game already.




Captain Flint (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YhYk8NrkNU)
http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20061001185939/muppet/images/2/21/Captainflint.jpg
Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean. Believed to be of Portuguese Extraction, Captain Flint was the captain of a pirate ship, the Walrus, which accumulated an enormous amount of captured treasure and buried it on Skeleton Island. Flint died in Savannah, of accute liver failure due to too much rum.

Right now, his seat is up in the air, and anyone could claim it.



That leaves:






Pirate Lord of the Black Sea

Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean Sea

Pirate Lord of the Atlantic Ocean

The Lovers are also around, and they can be based in Shipwreck City, or Shipwreck city can be subsumed by the Armada, whatever works.

So we have three pirates left to pick. Now ideally, one of these will be female, and we'd like to have a bloke from the Barbary Coast as well, to round off the popular demographic. That should about cover it, we can forget about Emillo, awesome though he may be we have got enough vengeance driven characters already.

[AnimeKid]

Animekid, I don't know One Piece well enough to play the Straw Hats off Luffy. You're going to need to take them over before I butcher their personalities too much.

Second I'm going to need to work out who the Pirate Lords of this game are.

Since Barbossa still is a Lord, I'm going to assume that Jack is too, he's just not very involved in this plot currently being in exile after Barbossa stole the Pearl.

I need a slot filled by the Lovers from The Scar so that leaves six more spots.

Since both Barbossa and Jack are dealing with personal matters and aren't really involved in pirate politics at the moment I think it'd be fair for Blackbeard to maintain the title despite a lack of interest. So that leaves five.

I need five more giants of piracy to fill in the gaps.

Okay then, I'll gladly take the Straw hats off your hands. I had thought that you wanted to control them at first. As for the Lords thing, I don't know if Luffy could be one. He is more of a wild card at this point. Though his name has definitely reached the ears of people. Probably due to the sheer fact that he has defeated quite a few people. Though seeing how varied the big blue is there are probably people who have not heard of him or ignored his exploits.

[Draxx]

Luffy probably isn't established enough to be a King just yet.

Christian 'Red-Hair' Shanks perhaps?

http://static.zerochan.net/Shanks.full.100175.jpg

How about Elizabeth Ramsay? She married a Templar, of course, which could be very, very interesting…

[Draxx]

http://www.cse.iitk.ac.in/users/amit/courses/768/00/aditya/ttcapt.gif

Sir Francis Haddock killed Red Rackham, and was an infamous pirate Hunter back before Hook discovered his own route to immortality. Haddock is a dead-ringer, and Hook is a little surprised to see him, for reasons that are probably understandable.

I figure, the real big shot pirates are immortal, either literally (like Blackbeard, Davy Jones, Barbossa (working up to it, at least), whatever) or in terms of legacy (Gold Roger, for instance, or Morgan and Bartholomew, who set up the Brethren Court), and remain a problem more or less ad-infinitum. Hook probably doesn't count, because he disappears for such long periods, but nonetheless is close. So encountering someone he figured was long, long dead, is probably something of a concern to him.

[Cracklord]

First up, exceptional take on Colonel Blood. I couldn't have hoped to do a better job myself. Second up, how do you feel about my suggestions for the pirate Lords so far? I haven't been able to pick out a good candidate to hail from the Barbary Coast, so how about Olivier Levasseur, if only to get us a character played by Basil Rathbone in on the proceedings. I mean, without Basil Rathbone it just isn't real swashbuckling.

http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3m6dwhvUK1qb8ugro1_500.jpg

[Shnyder]

I'd say it's about time for Corvo's patron to make his appearance, don't you?

http://media.pcgamer.com/files/2012/09/Dishonored-animation-part-3.jpg

So who is the Outsider? Nyarlathotep? The patriarch of the pantheon which Calypso is a part? The mental construct and manifestation of some sleeping leviathan at the very depths of the ocean, far more terrible then anything else that has been encountered so far? Both God and the devil, who tempts and leads men astray for his own amusement, or simply to experiment with free will? Chaos itself, or χάος in the original Greek, the primordial form all the Cosmos was before it gave other beings substance?

I like the primordial creature on the depths of the sea, dreaming, and stretching out it's mind to touch the truly desperate myself, but I'll leave that to the Story-Teller.

[darkblade]

Taking your suggestions and combining them with some thoughts of my own I have our Brethren Court.


The Lovers (Pirate King(s) of Armada: Their names have been lost to hearsay in the five decades since they rose to prominence in Armada. The male lover was long ago just a stow away kid from some remote tribe that got made gradually made his way up the ladder of command until he had his own ship. One night he took a beautiful prostitute to bed. Consumed by lust he preformed an old marriage ritual upon her, where a man horrifically scars his lover to mark her as his forever. Normally a barbaric sexist practice but the prostitute would have none of that. She called out his hypocrisy and took the knife and turned it right back on him to mark him just as much. Together within a year they ruled Armada. Within five they had begun a massive expansionist campaign to remove their competition, mainly Edward Kenway's Pirate Republic.

The Dread Pirate "Black Bart" Roberts (the Roberts right before Westley) Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea: There has always been a Dread Pirate Roberts in the court. Sometimes he changes which sea he hails from, sometimes he even ascends to Kingship. Currently he is quite happy to work under the Lovers

Sandokan Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean: Is currently targeted by the Lovers for his actions in Malaysia, turning it into a hub of piracy that might potentially rival Armada but after the events of Nassu neither of them want an outright civil war so they both content themselves by getting in each other's way as much as possible without outright declaring hostilities.

Sao Feng Pirate Lord of the South Earth Kingdom Sea: A non-bender from the Earth Kingdom (Fire = Japan, Earth and Air = China, Water = weirdly displaced Inuit), instead favouring the more traditional martial arts. He has no quarrel with benders though and has many fire and water benders among his crews (Earth benders are of little use at sea and Aang's children and grandchildren and Korra are the only Airbenders in the world).

Hector Barbossa Pirate Lord of the Caribbean: I'm taking liberties hear because a pirate lord of the Caspian Sea is ridicules it's land locked and Barbossa isn't even Russian. Besides why would a Pirate Lord be another Lord's first mate? It makes more sense for him to have taken Jack's old seat when he mutinied. Also it would fit with the idea that Jack was using the Pearl to find the Fountain of Youth in South America when he got mutinied and along the same routes they found the cursed Aztec gold.

Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean: Formerly Flint now up for any PC willing to try for it.

Tetra (http://zelda.wikia.com/wiki/Tetra) Pirate Lady of the Black Sea: A twelve year old prodigy of piracy, directly taking the seat from her mother, Zelda easily holding her own against other contenders through use of old Hyrulian magic and good old archery. In this world her family, the rulers of Hyrule were not forced out of their homeland by a great flood or Gannon but by the Ottoman Empire. She is completely unaware of her own heritage.

Roger de Flor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_de_Flor) Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean: An Italian mercenary and pirate, had ties to the Knights Templar from a young age. A Templar spy that arranged the pirate civil war perhaps? Also he's really out of sync with everyone else when it comes to time periods, more anachronistic fun.

Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy (http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Euron_Greyjoy) Pirate Lord of the Atlantic Ocean: Because this world's geography makes little enough sense as is here is a Song of Ice and Fire character. A lord of the Iron Islands in exile for raping his brother's salt wife (kidnapped concubine). He has since made quite name for himself as a pirate, known to have seen ancient ruins and kidnapped warlocks to learn dark secrets. He is not on Blackbeard or Sao's level yet but he is working on it.

[Cracklord]

Very, very interesting lineup indeed. Of course, you don't have to be a pirate lord to make an appearance, so there is still a chance we'll see some of the others suggested.

So I've been thinking about the Templars and the Assassins, and it occurs to me that one of the themes of the movies (in particular number two and three, but particularly apparent at the end of four) is that the magic is going away, that the edges of the map are being filled up, and that human rationalism is killing the supernatural. Why not change to focus of the Templars to that, and make the Assassins preserving the old ways and traditions that the Templars are doing their very best to stamp out?

I imagine this extends to Culture as well. The Templars feel that the world should be united, under one creed and authority. In some ways this is a good thing, for they are, for the most part, egalitarian industrialists who believe in communal effort. The assassins represent a resistance, believing in freedom and self-determination, even when that means what it does.

Food for thought, anyway.

[darkblade]

See the short bit of narration at the start of this thread for my views on that theme.

Magic going away isn't scary to me, after all I've lived my whole life without it. Far scarier is the idea that magic can be domesticated, processed and bound to serve our most basic petty desires but on an unimaginable scale. Warded iron walls around orchards of Devil's Fruit. Shards of Soul Edge melted down into vats of iron used to make cannons that want to kill. Cursed gold stolen to make elite soldiers immortal. Sadistic marines relishing the thoughts of murder to employ faerie dust and board enemy ships from the sky. Monarchs that drink from the fountain of youth ensuring eternal reigns.

The powerful will use new inventions to stay powerful and hold down those who would destroy them. It's a theme that has been seen throughout technological and scientific development, it only makes sense to extrapolate that concept onto magic.

That is what the Templars want. Magic is old as time and it isn't going anywhere but they are quite threw with it being a wild, uncontrollable factor in history. They seek to bend magic to their will and use it to crush those who refuse.

[Cracklord]

Fair enough, and quite reasonable.

Also, can I assume that the Iron Islands are this universe's version of Green Land? Settled by the Vikings long ago, who have never given up being proper Vikings? If so, just how much have they adapted? I mean, a viking Long Ship versus a Spanish Galleon is no competition whatsoever.

[darkblade]

I really should have set a time period when I started this game. This is becoming annoying.

Regardless I'm going to say that the Iron Islands are what is now known as the Canadian Maritimes if the Vikings didn't consistently get their collective rears kicked by the Native Americans. They're going to have the same pseudo seventeenth to nineteenth century tech everyone seems to have.

[Cracklord]

Well, we have king Philip of Spain, Emperor Napoleon (with Richleau as an advisor) and presumably Queen Victoria in charge of England, just for fun, so yeah, I can see what you're coming from, not that any pirate story doesn't feature plenty of anachronism.

How about culture? Do the iron-men still worship C'thulhu and sail their ships in full suits of armor, with shields over the canon-ports when they aren't extended, and oars in the hold? Because if so, that is spectacularly crazy awesome.

[darkblade]

Sure, why not.

[Cracklord]

So lets see. So far, in terms of antagonists, we have the new Brethren Court (led by the Lovers Scar) who seem to be doing their best to take control of the sea, and destroy anyone who tries to resist them.

We also have the French (led by Napoleon and Richelieu) a sort of background antagonist that aren't really appearing as of yet, but are clearly Templars. We know they are at war with England, presumably the Battle of Trafalgar took care of the whole fleet problems, and we know that they have designs of conquering Europe, but for now they are strictly speaking background noise, though Corvo might change that if he gets his way. The East India Trading Company has also got a mention, but beyond that we cannot say…

Anyway here's a summary of the characters, what they are up to and what they are trying to achieve. As far as I've been able to discern, at least.

'Long' Ben Avery came to Spain on a mission, with his comrade in arms Thomas Blood. While there, he befriended the town drunk (Inigo Montaya) who not so surprisingly turned out to be the greatest swordsman in the world, foiled a dastardly villain with designs on the beauteous countess, as is his wont, and got arrested for his trouble. Just what his mission is remains to be seen, but was doubtless connected to the one Hornblower and Sharpe have just been given. Indeed, given that certain renegade elements of Spain are utilizing Devil Fruit, which they could only have acquired from the pirates, it seems more then likely. However, right now he's plotting his daring escape.

Blackbeard is looking for Atlantis. Why isn't clear, but if anyone cares, he's looking for some sign of the old gods, particularly Poseidon. It all concerns the elements of the Ryme of the Ancient Mariner I not so subtly worked into his story, and wishing to escape the curse of Tedium that was his punishment. Currently, this entails fighting his way across Skull Island to an ancient Temple. Accompanying him is Edward Kenaway, who doesn't seem to have any intention of making another play for Pirate king.

Which is wonderful, because Luffy wishes to become Pirate King, and there's a slot open, with the death of Captain Flint. If he was to head into an inn called the Spyglass, he might just meet the original scallywag 'Long' John Silver himself, and, as well as acting as a father figure for the boy, could lead him to Flint's buried treasure (on Skeleton Island) and thereby give him the clout he needs to become Pirate Lord. However, right now his concern is that he's on Tortuga, and the cursed gold of Cortez is calling Barbosa his way…

Speaking of Barbossa, he's headed to Australia, with designs on procuring the last of Turner's line, after provoking the Royal Navy, in particular Commodore Norrington to hunt him until the ends of the Earth. Little does he know that the gold has changed hands, and that the very man who he sent to the bottom of the Ocean now serves aboard the most terrible ship on the sea, Davy Jones himself.

Of Davy Jones, all we know is he is somewhere in the waters near China, and seems to be heading towards open conflict with the East India Trading Company. Whether he and his terrible pet will get involved elsewhere, we cannot yet say.

And Corvo Attano, former Lord Protector of France, is on the run from the french lawkeepers, while seeking out the princess and heir to the throne. Where she is, whether she's alive, and if it's at all reasonably practical to reinstall a monarchy on a nation which has got rid of their last so finally remains to be seen, however for now he's struggling not to drown, and trying to make sense of a face in the water.

And speaking of the French enforcers, Rocheforte seems to be in Spain to soften them up for invasion. If he can get away from an insistent Spaniard whose father he killed, we might learn more about that. However, Don Lardo is dead, and the city is wide open for attack, and this newfangled Da Vinci contraption should have little trouble raining hot death on the city.

Captain Nemo Dakkar is negotiating with the Avatar, and dealing with the repairs on his unique vessel. I wish him luck, for he shall need it before long.

Captain Hook has the descendant of one of his enemies in his clutches, and if he keeps his cool he may yet get the last laugh. But what's this? The game is afoot, a sign of a far greater enemy, and with the first sign of weakness in a long time, perhaps an opportunity to finally rid himself of that infernal PAN!

Popeye just wants to get his job done and get home to port, but try as he might it seems interests have designs on him, and he cannot escape their pull no matter what he does. His long term rival having been dishonorably killed (or has he?), he has a woman to rescue, and ruffians to teach better.

Hornblower and Sharpe have been dispatched on a mission for the crown, involving the Armada.

I think that's all.

[ThePhantom]

Nice sum up. It looks good.

[Cracklord]

Cheers. Explaining the situation every so often both helps prospective players see what they are getting into, infrequent posters reacquaint themselves quickly, and helps people figure out their next steps.

[darkblade]

Also it's fun to read in a movie trailer narration voice.

[Cracklord]

Well it goes without saying that's the primary consideration.

[Draxx]

So what's the verdict for Rochforte and Inigo? It's clearly too early for a final vengeance, so what's it to be? Mutual KO, or match canceled due to the fort exploding? Lets make it fair, mutual KO if Darkblade doesn't have Febre fire the magazine next post.

[AnimeKid]

I must say Cracklord your talant for this sort of thing is impeccable. I really like how you were able to tie Luffy into all of this even though he is a free roaming element at the moment. Oh and sorry about not posting that much lately. I have been busy burning through the new collection of games I got for Christmas. SO MUCH GOOD STUFF! Anyway I'll try to post more regularly from here on out. Plus I have a destination now for Luffy!

...Question! Where is the Spyglass inn?

[industrious]

Damn. That is impressive.

I've sort of been lurking around, incidentally; while I initially wanted to play S'ree, the idea of playing a whale quickly lost its novelty. And my knowledge of swashbuckling heroes is extremely limited, so figuring out who I could play has turned up little but blanks.

[Draxx]

I could offer a few suggestions, if you like.

[Cracklord]

Alight, here we go.

How to play, for method actors:
Step one: Decide what sort of character you are going to play. If, like many, you don't have much experience with the swashbuckling genre, then for basics you want to go with archetype. Do you want to play a villain, an anti-hero, or a hero in the classic sense of the word (don't bother about moral relativism, that's got no place in this sort of genre (except when it does, see Alexander Dumas, grandfather of the genre, and Robert Louis Stevenson, now that it occurs to me…)).
Step two: Go to a costume shop and get either get a three musketeers outfit, a navy personnel outfit (probably horrifically period inaccurate), or a pirate outfit (probably making you look like a cut-price Jack Sparrow, or the poor man's Captain Hook), whichever is appropriate. This is called 'getting into character'.
Step three: If you are old enough, stop by the liquor shop and pick up a few bottles of cheap red wine. Or, if you are playing a pirate, some whiskey cut with lime juice.
Step four: Stop by the video rental, and describe the character you have visualized to the clerk. Pick up the movie he or she says is 'kinda like what you're talking about.' Start watching it, while practicing knocking the tops off wine bottles with your plastic rapier. This is called 'getting into the atmosphere'.
Step five: give up after you break the cheep toy, and open them with a corkscrew or your hand, whichever is appropriate. Don't watch the film, just catch a few snatches of script here and there which you can quote later for 'authenticity', and practice making faces in a mirror. Periodically shout out 'En garde!' or Sa-ha!', until someone asks you to stop. This is called 'getting a feel for the mindset'.
Step six: You now have a character, and further more have the right attitude to play him/her. Congratulations!

How to play, for intellectual elitists/genre snobs
Step One: Pick up a character from a book nobody has heard of written by an author who was highly regarded some time ago but has now disappeared into relative obscurity. For maximum impact, aspire for no less then eighty years old or so. Shoe-horn him into a role he doesn't fit at all, claim an 'original interpretation', or 'death of the author' if there really is no helping you, then throw in some classical references and feel smug because nobody else's posts are as long or involved as yours, and you are demonstrating a higher technical understanding of the actions involved based on your lengthy descriptions. Feel smug, but become irate when nobody recognizes this, and demand a change of character to keep the attention wholly on yourself. Repeat until asked to leave the game, and do so with an atmosphere of wounded haughteer. Make snide comments in the Out of Character thread.

How to play:
Step One: What do you know and like about the genre? What is it about the concept you wish to celebrate? Find a character who expresses this, or ask someone else for ideas if nothing leaps to mind. If you're struggling, ask someone else if you can pick up one of their supporting cast, who you happen to recognize. After you jump in, try to link your characters plot to whatever the other characters are doing as quickly as possible, so you can have some enjoyable interactions. Don't worry too much about the rest, that tends to take care of itself.

How to play, for complete and utter bastards:
Step One: Get involved, bounce ideas off the Storyteller, get your character in the center of everyone else's story-line, win everyone over with your infectious enthusiasm, and in short arrange things so that the continuation of the game depends on you, then disappear until the game falls apart and show up again once a new one is being formed.

How to play, for boring people:
Step One: Post once a week, don't commit to anything, and never move your character forward, or give the Story-teller anything to work with. Keep your posts short, brief, and confusing. The second you are maneuvered into actually being part of the plot, vanish as mysteriously as you appeared. Show up again after five pages or so, and ask to pick the character up again, but don't actually do so.

All are valid approaches. And yes, that's a parody on most of us long term posters, but particularly myself.

[Draxx]

Heh. Fair enough.

[darkblade]

You forgot the hipsters who pick something that no one has ever heard of and once they are sure no one knows anything about their character start arbitrarily increasing their powers to insane levels. When called on this they throw a fit and storm out of the game.

[Cracklord]

I must say Cracklord your talant for this sort of thing is impeccable. I really like how you were able to tie Luffy into all of this even though he is a free roaming element at the moment. Oh and sorry about not posting that much lately. I have been busy burning through the new collection of games I got for Christmas. SO MUCH GOOD STUFF! Anyway I'll try to post more regularly from here on out. Plus I have a destination now for Luffy!

...Question! Where is the Spyglass inn?

In the original book? Bristol. It's Darkblade's game, so I won't dictate, but first? First you need Flint's map, which leads to the treasure. As per the book, it's held by a man named Billy Bones, who is hiding out from his old crew, all of whom want him dead, doing his best to cheat them by drinking himself to death first. He kept it in an old Sea Chest.

Shouldn't be too hard, since his crew are looking pretty hard for him, given just what a fortune is at stake. Now, if you fall afoul of that subplot, chances are Silver will make sure you and he meet.

[Draxx]

Doesn't even have to take that long. Where are you staying in Tortuga? If you're not sleeping aboard your ship, maybe, thanks to outrageous coincidence, you are already there.

For anyone who cares, something interesting happened to be stumbled upon today. Black Sails (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2375692/), it's called.

And suddenly, I think what it is that the original codifier of the whole genre is an NPC. So I don't suppose I could play Silver as a supporting character to Luffy?

[darkblade]

Absolutely if you want to.

[Draxx]

Then so I shall.
http://ramitxon.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/silver_character_sheet.jpg

Animekid, who are the Straw Hat Pirates at this point? Is it post or pre-Time Skip? I need to know these things.

[AnimeKid]

Then so I shall.
http://ramitxon.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/silver_character_sheet.jpg

Animekid, who are the Straw Hat Pirates at this point? Is it post or pre-Time Skip? I need to know these things.

I'm thinking right before the timeskip. Because correct me if I'm wrong but wouldn't post timeskip Strawhats be hilariously overpowered for this game? Or is that me being unintentionally arrogant?

As for where there staying, Nami has them sleeping on the island. Mostly because she has become wise to the pattern that follows her crew. When they get to a new place something unbelievable usually happens to them because Luffy is a weirdness magnet. At least this way the ship usually doesn't get damaged.

[Draxx]

Very sensible. I've been reading a bit of One Piece, not a lot, but a bit, so as to get a handle on the characters. For the most part they work, but a few might need a little adapting to the Game World.

I have a theory about this game, concerning the Grand Line. Rather then being a physical path through the ocean, it is in actuality something that has to be found. Consider Sao Feng's charts, not as accurate, but lead to more places, or the island that can't be found except by those who know where it is. But the more you find, the less you exist in this world, and the more you exist… somewhere else, somewhere that isn't on the maps, indeed maps and charts are what make them so very hard to find, but search far enough, and you'll begin to cross over to the world of magic. The real trouble is when things that exist far up the Grand Line start coming back to the world outside, like the sea kings, or Davy Jones, or that which dwells even further beyond.


I'm thinking right before the timeskip. Because correct me if I'm wrong but wouldn't post timeskip Strawhats be hilariously overpowered for this game? Or is that me being unintentionally arrogant?

Sure. Or not. It's all a matter of interpretation. It depends on the way you decide to play them, not on what they are pictured to be doing.

Corvo fully upgraded can possess people, freeze time, and teleport. He can literally let somebody shoot him, then freeze time and force then into the path of their own bullet within the game. And that's just the start of how he could be interpreted.

Blackbeard can trap ships, storms and living beings in rum bottles. So theoretically, that trumps almost everyone (depends how long it takes him).

Avery was presented doing things just as impossible in his book, like rowing from the Caribbean to the Barbary Coast in a night in a little dingy.

And then there is Popeye. Lets face it, you've got about as much chance against him as you do against Bugs Bunny (i.e. none whatsoever). The second he gets some spinach into him, that's all she wrote, oh woe, oh misfortune; oh misfortune, oh woe.

So no, not really. Most of us have gone for a realistic tone in our contributions, rather then standing on mountains cutting storms in half and crumbling mountains with our fists, because that suits the genre better. But that doesn't mean we couldn't tell the story that way if we wanted.

One Piece isn't actually swashbuckling, it's Shonen. It owes more to Dragonball Z then to Robert Louis Stevenson. And so the actual expectations in the two are completely different, but that doesn't really mean that the powers are better. In a Shonen you loudly assert something, and shout your attacks very loudly, and everything is over the top, but don't be fooled. It doesn't mean you're characters are more powerful, just that they are presented in a different way.

[Aric Kale]

Hey y'all, sorry, but I'm gonna have to drop out of this rp. It's really neat, and I enjoy ed posting here, but I'm super busy with school right now, and the Nexus is already a big distraction. Good luck; have fun.

[Cracklord]

Fair wind and fortune to you then.

[Cracklord]

Here we go. My usual brand of original fiction to help immerse ourselves in the setting, detailing the Free Republic, and the civil war that occurred ten years ago. I'm beginning with the declaration, and leaving out quite a bit, though I hope to include the part the British navy had in all this.

This particular story ends with Blackbeard's famous duel with Whitebeard, and also details how he broke his sword, but who knows if I'll get that far. Anyone else has some ideas to flesh it out, excellent!

Where your ship to have made berth in Nassau not ten years past, you would have found the harbor full to choking with ships, each flying the dreaded black flag. Ships enough to take on the Grand Armada, or loot and plunder Paris, should they get the idea into their heads.

It was a brilliant morning, the sky a luscious periwinkle blue speckled with plump clouds like new-spun fleece, the sun high and bright but not fierce, and the water twinkling brilliantly beneath it, a rich green that stretched as far as the eye could see. From the port, the warves stretched out like long fingers into the sea, and the piers they jutted from were choked with bodies come ashore. In short, it was a pleasant day, the seas did not boil, the skies did not darken, and there was nothing to mark this moment but the ships that had come to hear.

For in the town square, where on other days markets would be set up and traders and thieves would come to flog the wears taken from honest men at the point of a sword, there was a gathering of assorted scallywags, rogues, and scoundrels equal to those who met six months past, to elect their king.

The two who had called it needed no introduction. Edward Teach - none other, was a fearsome sight, big as a house-side and nimble as a cat, standing six foot five inches and making every centimeter count in his bearing. His face was hard and brutal, creased and cracked and roughened by wind and sea, and he wore his dark beard long, hanging past his chest and braided with fuses. His dreaded sword hung in a plain scabbard, and he was festooned with pistols, his arms were folded against his wide chest, and his eyes were cruel and pitiless and utterly without mercy.

Beside him stood the man who would have been King of the Brethren Court, and who could say he wasn’t, since the vote had been tied when The Old One had abstained, leaving the legitimacy of the vote in question. And with the dubious prospect of democracy a failure, their recourse had been popular uprising, if not open civil war. Edward Kenway was dressed all in snowy white from breeches to head-kerchief, the clothing at once reminiscent of the robes of a priest and the uniform of a soldier. He was lean and wolfishly handsome, almost as tall as his companion, with fine scars tracing along his stark features, and a cutlass strapped to either hip.

Around them, thronging the square, all that would come had gathered. Cruel bearded faces in the shadows, earrings, head scarves, hairy drawers, dirty shirts open to the waist, bad breath, great buckled belts, cutlasses, knives and pistols gripped in gnarled and sweaty hands, and eyes that watched for the first sign of weakness.

“Gentlemen...I find meself gladdened at heart t' find ye all here at t' call. Circumstances be a shame, however, and it saddens me that in t' midst o' such a happy reunion I be raised t' wroth and choler." Blackbeard growled, in his thick Somerset accent. It had been decided that he should do most of the talking, given the terror most of the other captains felt in regards to him they were less likely to offer complaint or resistance. They needed to control the mood of the crowd, or else they'd likely kill each other over old grudges and feuds.

"We be free men, gentlemen o' fortune with no designs but those we build upon. Kingship be a gift we give, not one stolen by those with drawn blades. But I will submit neither t' man or devil, and if a fight they be wantin', they will not go wantin' for long."

He paused then, surveying the gathered men. More then he'd feared had sided with him, but less then he'd hoped. Some he trusted, others he was less sure about, but all he respected, if only for the strength they displayed in getting here.

Olivier Levasseur was there, strutting and twirling his mustache; tall, lean, rakish Levasseur, pretending to elegance in tawdry finery, with an embroidered coat, plumed castor, lace ruffles, and fine Cordovan boots with red-lacquered heels. None of the articles were in the least practical for a self-respecting sea-dog, and all had seen better days, however Levasseur knew they were the height of fashion, so he wore them despite it all, and nobody was fool enough to point out how scuffed and threadbare his assorted articles were inevitably becoming, given his primary form of acquiring clothing was taking them from those he skewered, and there was a shortage of readily available fops on the High Seas.

He was a sad case really, although he looked anything but. A gutter snipe, he yearned for gentility, having observed something of it as a bare-foot stable lad in a great household, and dreamed of legitimacy. He was a master swordsman in the Verdadera Destreza school, and a lover of strategy games. Among sea-scum he about passed as a gentleman, having picked up a few tricks of speech from Congreve and Vanbrugh to supplement his gaudy wardrobe, but for all that he sneered and minced in sinister fashion only a fool would under-estimate him - though he was undoubtedly at best a social pretender, he had won his captaincy by cunning, courage and the point of his sword, and besides maybe Dread Roberts himself none were reckoned his equal in the ways of a blade upon the High Seas. Blackbeard, in a rare sign of favour, granted him the slightest of nods in acknowledgement, and Captain Levasseur returned it

Captain LaRoche, for his part, was tall and thin and unspeakably menacing, with a sinister quality to him that even Blackbeard lacked, and the very veneer of aristocratic charm Levasseur pretended, though the red light of triumph twinkled in his eyes, and he possessed a smile that Judas in Hell might be proud of, as though he insulted the entire world with his mere existence. Nobody was sure of where he came from, though stories abounded, that he was the last of the warlocks of Scholomance the fabled school of black magic somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains, that he was a descendant of Charlemagne and a renegade member of he secretive order called the Knight’s Templar, or that he was an assassin who murdered with an ancient weapon of gold, or even that he had been a man, once, but in the sands of the bone dessert he had fallen under the sway of a long dead prince of Egypt, and was now a ghost who served dark designs from beyond the grave itself.

Whatever his antecedents, he was a singular terror with a devilish temper that seized him without warning, and his crew would have slit his throat long since if they all weren’t too afraid of him. He dressed all in black, his buttons of polished bone, and wore a black rapier at his hip which had seen more death in his hands then any graveyard could claim, one gloved hand toying with it, as though he could hardly bear not to put it to use. He met Blackbeard’s eyes, and held them. There wasn't a hint of fear there, not even a glimmer of bravado. LaRoche just stared back.

Emilio of Roccabruna, Lord of Valpenta and of Ventimiglia, and feared throughout the Caribbean as the Black Corsair stood alongside the other two, a clever Sicilian, noble and handsome but also very secretive, constantly ambitious and forever unsatisfied. He always seemed lucky, though it was more a result of his Machiavellian plans and his sheer audacity; every step he took a calculated used to climb to even greater power. No doubt he had ambitions of his own in regards to the free republic, and perhaps he would get them yet. Captain Vallo, his younger brother and a captain in his own right known as 'The Red Corsair' stood to his left, the so-called crimson pirate barely able to suppress his awe at the august gathering around him.

"Hark ye, you that came in curiosity not friendship, I find by strengthenin' you, I have put a rod into your hands t' whip meself. So let thar be no question as t' our intentions, I mean t' go t' war wi' those who stole a crown. If you be not counted among me friends, be counted amongst me enemies, because Damnation seize me soul if I give quarter in this, aye, or take any if offered!" Blackbeard continued, the words less spontaneous, more measured, deliberate. He would let no man claim ignorance or neutrality, this was war, and he would settle for no less.

His gaze continued, following the ranks of captains as he gave them his ultimatum. One-Eyed Willie, that scheming cripple, sat on an enormous chair his crew had carried him in on, his breathing wet and shallow, one long-fingered, grasping hand holding a hankerchief to his mouth, which came away flecked with blood. He spoke low words to the captain beside him through one side of his mouth, a concession to the rotting teeth that pained him, and he rubbed his empty socket with a knuckle before pulling the patch back into place. It was hard to believe he had once been so mighty, he was now a ghost of a man, or skin and bones and dying as his lungs filled up with blood and syphilis rotted him from inside out. Now the old man could not even manipulate his own body. Instead, he manipulated everyone around him.

His fellow schemer, Captain Thomas Bartholomew Red, was given a wide berth for a different reason. Even in this company, his tastes were frowned upon, he was known to be a cannibal, having eaten all but one of his crew, and for his pleasures found favor in girls of extraordinary youth and innocence. He was a bad sort, vicious as a cornered rat, who'd bite the hand that offered aid or succor for no reason then a chance, or betray and murder a man for the slightest of provocations.

Finally, Black Bellamy and his lover Cutlass Liz, a shameless extrovert who enjoyed wine, women and song, honest and slightly gullible and not half the schemer he imagined himself, but quick thinking enough to make up for it. He was lean and quick as a hummingbird and imposing despite his slight build, but despite his tendency to drink, had a gentle manner among friends.

Of course, there was far more attention upon Liz, six gorgeous feet she was, noticeably taller then him, and from the heels of her tight-fitting Italian thigh boots to the curling plume of her picture hat, dressed in a scarlet kimono with ermine trim that clung to her like skin, lithe and sleek and dangerous as a panther - with her lovely vicious face and voluptuous shape, the curl of her shapely lip and a lift of her perfect Egyptian nose and a low-lidded glare from her smoky slanting eyes flashing against her ebony skin. She smoldered silently as she unsheathed her broad-bladed cutlass with its Cartier hilt from which she drew her name, and posed with the contemptuous grace of a burlesque star, indifferent to the attention she got. She never walked, she prowled, exuding menace and sex-appeal at every step, and Liz was as cruel and deadly as she was beautiful. Born a Barbados slave, she had clawed her way to power by a piratical genius and ruthless ferocity that had made her the toast of women's liberationists all along the Main.

Those Blackbeard recognized, by face or by name and reputation. The newcomers around, on the other hand, he had mixed feelings about, but every ship they could get, if only to keep them from the Brethren. "There be be no recourse here, war, like as not, lest we escape t' tyranny o' our homelands only t' fall prey t' tyranny amongst ourselves." With a solemn movement, he held up apiece of yellowed parchment, on which a large black splotch of ink had been made. "Aye, mutiny then. Nothin' less will settle this."

One by one, he watched as the other captains indicated likewise, his eyes following those he had not had reason to meet before. Captain Horatio Pugwash he was incapable making up his mind about. He seemed a rather soft and inoffensive little man, not at all cut out for life on the high seas, pompous and foolish, vain, self-deluded and mostly incompetent, only making his way through life with a generous helping of luck. Still, he was an enemy to none of them, and were not likely to turn away support freely offered.

The other newcomer on the other hand, while very capable, was an enigma. He claimed no name or title bar 'The Black Pirate', or at times the Duke of Arnoldo, wherever that was, said little and offered less, the aura of mystery impossible to penetrate. All that could be certain was that you wanted him as a friend, if only because it would be terrible to have him as an enemy, but one would prefer him to be on neither side at all.

Geoffery Thorpe stood with his arms folded, leaning against the wall. Since his betrayal by the lords of the Admiralty he had learned to keep his own counsel, and a hard-learned lesson it was. Alexander of Monterria stood to the side, hopping around and cackling, then was drawn into a foppish slapping-match with Victor Stagnetti, while Elisabet Ramsey rolled her eyes and tried to ignore them. And clustered around them were a dozen others, Captain Slaughterboard, The Red Rover and One-eyed Jane. Even Captain Shakespere, the only son of Captain Ghostmaker whose name was still used to frighten children across Europe, such was the terror of his legend. And many more that neither of them recognized, or whose names they had never cared to learn.

"T' first law o' t' Brotherhood and t' code be this, ‘Fair’s fair’. Each does starboard by hisself, and be entitled t' t' profit o' his own labors. I say, that's a creed t' live by! Worth dyin' for, worth killin' for, worth damnation itself for! So drink up, me hearties, for those with me sail t' Shipwreck Cove with t' tide, and those against had best get out o' me way! And to the locker with he that first cries 'Hold, enough'!"

[Cracklord]

Here we go. And that involves the East India Trading Company in the proceedings rather nicely, if I say so myself.

It was a balmy clear night, and two men strode side by side, with the uneven gate of lifelong sailors unacclimatized to the solid surface of dry land. They were headed towards the ‘Keelhaulers' Lounge’, the big back room of the Golden Compass in the pirate haven that they had created in the Bahamas’. Like any establishment worth visiting in the pirate ports, it was another careful investment established by Long John Silver, quartermaster under the Pirate lord Captain Flint who, methodical as always, had carefully set up a chain of such places to cater to the buccaneer fraternity. He was always careful with money, that Silver.

"Just before we parted company, James mentioned that he had come upon a man, half dead, floating in the sea. They pulled him out, and before he died, he told them a story similar to the ones I have heard here today. He said it happened off the coast of India. It seems these villains are everywhere." Edward mentioned.

“Blow me down, that scurvy dog’s still alive? Wonders ne'er cease it seems.” Blackbeard exclaimed, shaking his shaggy head in wonderment. “A wonder drink or t' devil haven’t done for him by now. You trust his word?”

“Why would he lie?” Edward replied simply. Since those first, heady days of negotiations and threats and promises neither side meant to keep, every tide had seemed to sweep in more shiploads of pirates and sailors, chomping at the bit, the swell of each wave depositing some new leaky vessel filled to bursting with men, so that the town creaked at the seams trying to find room for them all.

"We’ve waited too long already. Let t' dice fall where they be, t' course be set and no man can change it now." Blackbeard said with a sigh. “One roll o' t' dice, let 'em fall where they do.”

Kenway nodded grimly. “I don’t see any alternative. We trusted them to remain at Shipwreck, buying themselves something like legitimacy. But they’ve learned better then that, it would seem. If we don’t act soon, an Armada will show up on our doorstep and they’ll blockade the harbour. We’ll all starve in a week.”

“Wouldn’t take a hundred ships. Barely a dozen.” Blackbeard concurred grimly, rubbing his eyes with a big knuckle. “Narrow as t' harbor is, we’d be trapped and waitin' t' starve, or else shot the pieces before we rounded the headland.”

“Do we have enough men to make a play for it?” Kenway asked. They'd decided long since that avoiding open battle was the only way, trying to draw those who threw in with the Lovers into waters they could control, but even so, the odds, never great to begin with, showed no signs of improving.

Blackbeard shrugged again. “Depends on the men.” He replied. What more was there to say?

“I’m afraid that is the least of your problems.” Said a man who emerged onto the street, arms folded across his chest. Both of them recognized him is an instant, Benjamin Hornigold, another of the founders of the free republic, a tall and square-shouldered Englishman, his eyes flint-like and his bearing as regal as it had ever been. Some pirates achieved immortality by great deeds of cruelty or derring-do. Some achieved immortality by amassing great wealth, or by risking the dangers of the Grand Line. But Benjamin had long ago decided that he would, on the whole, prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.

“My compliments. There's not been a gathering like this in our lifetime. Would that I could call myself part of it. But I’m here on a sanctioned mission, under the authority and protection of the Crown." He sad, inclining his head.

Edward, who had been walking over to embrace him, stopped as though pole-axed. Teach could not suppress a growl, deep in the back of his throat. “You always counted yourself too proud t' take t' name pirate.” He growled, his tone far from complimentary. “Didn’t see you arrive. Now why is that?”

“It’s the way of things.” He replied, unapologetic. “It served us well while it lasted, but time grinds on, and the world with it. Where's the harm in joining the winning sides?” Then he shook his head. “But I’m not here to convert you. You’ll come around on your own, or won’t, by the by it’s down to you. I am here to give you a message from his majesty, the King of England. Then I will return to my ship, and be on my way. Nothing else.”

“And that be what?” Blackbeard snarled. “Pardons? Forget what it be t' live and laugh and love and run a man through? Forget t' taste o' salty air on me tongue and never again wave heartily at a mermaid? Life sounds hollow, so it does, when put like that.” He spat. "Take that t' your king, as answer from me and all with us. We’re free men, and accept no dominion of masters we do not ourselves choose. They vilify us, that sort does, because we make lies o' what they are. T' only difference be this; they rob t' poor under t' cover o' law, and we plunder t' rich under t' protection o' naught bar our own courage; Keep your pardon, your commission and your letter of marquee, much good may it do ya. Let t' King o' England come against me, if he fancies hisself man enough. But I remind him, t' sea be bigger then England, and all I ask o' it be a tall ship and a star t' steer her by. T' rest will take care o' itself.”

Benjamin threw back his head heartily and laughed heartily at the man who had once been his friends colorful response. “Well, so be it. I almost believe you’ll win. But I am still able to deal with you both; but since we met in love, let us part in love, for I find that three of a trade can never agree." He replied, with a sad shake of his head, and proffering an outstretched hand. Neither of the two took it.

“The pirate code be fer pirates, from whose company ye 'ave repented. Thar be none o' ye but will hang me, I know, whenever ye can clinch me within yer power. Why should we do less ‘n the same?" Blackbeard growled, but Kenway shook his head.

“Let him go, Edward. Let him tell his king we’re here, and we intend to stay. We’ll fight our own, and we’ll fight all the ships in his navy if it comes to it, but it won’t. Call us relics of the past, if you will, but the old order is fading, and men no longer look to crowns for leadership.” He folded his arms. “He drove me into this life, but I wouldn’t part with it now, not for all the gold I’ve buried. He would have me repent it? Then so be it. Yes, I do heartily repent. I repent I had not done more mischief; I repent I have not cut more throats of those that are against us, and I am extremely sorry that you aren't to be hanged as is intended for me."

“Can we do it?” He asked Blackbeard later, in a side-room of the tavern where only the thunder of celebration and pistol-shots from without, and the occasional body crashing in from the main room disturbed their conversation. “Can we fight England and the Brethren both?”

Blackbeard shrugged moodily, and finished his rum.

The next addition will steer to some other, less well-established pirates, as they fight their own battles for rulership of the seas.

[Cracklord]

No comments at all? Tough crowd. What do you think, Darkblade? Does it mesh with your intentions, or does it need revision?


On the other side of the world, or nearabouts as to make no difference, was the port of Libertatia, on the coast of Madagascar. In it's day it was the greatest of the havens, eclipsing both Port Royal, that in time the British would reclaim and in which law and order finally prevailed, and Nassau, which only existed at all because New Providence Island's harbor was ideally situated to prey on the Spanish Ships laden with treasure as they returned from the New World. But Libertatia was ideally situated for a prize that was richer still, the entire Dark Continent spread before them, all the way to the barbary coast, as were the great treasures and greater still opportunities that the Dark Continent afforded. And though it was a little too close to the Indian Port of Bangalla for any pirate to feel entirely safe, it was nonetheless the capital, as far as such a thing could be applied, of pirates everywhere.

‘Calico’ Jack Rackham, the Ranger's quatermaster and without a doubt the brains of that particular operation had been busy since he went ashore. He had parceled up his calicoes to the dry cleaners, checked the share prices of the ships he had an interest in, carefully paid up outstanding debts to the A.B.P.C.B.A.T(the Amalgamated Brotherhood of Pirates, Corsairs, Buccaneers and Allied Trades - the union he'd selected as representation, although he'd become somewhat jaded with the benefits they offered and their alleged so-called productivity deals that he found to be in direct and flagrant disregard to his experiences of the opinions expressed at focsle-floor level an' ratified by the ships democratic process, and was considering transferring to N.U.P.E (Nautical Union of Piratical Employees) for the free week-ends at the Notre Dios Hilton, and what seemed to him to be a very generous expense account), and after haggling with smuggler and fence Richard Guthrie, the only man who could turn a hold full of stolen oriental silks and spices into profit so quickly, updated the books to see that the crew was paid. It was a point of pride that he never cheated his crew or gave any preferential share, everyone was paid according to experience and responsibility. That done, he forwarded his own share, and Bonny's as well for that matter, of the treasure to his other faithful paramour, Mary Read, on their shark-infested island retreat, with instructions to hold on to it carefully until he had made up his mind where to buy in next.. That all taken care of, he finally ambled into town, whistling a jaunty tune. It was an odd little tune that posterity will one day recognize as the first few bars from ‘Theme to Murder, She Wrote’.

'Calico' Jack Rackham was not a fierce-looking man. Indeed, he looked closer to a poet, another handsome young man with a little too much education, and not quite enough drive to make something of himself, with bright eyes, a thin mustache that made him look debonair in the right light, and bright, clever eyes that went well with his perpetually animated expression. Like many pirates, he was eclipsed by his own reputation. He dressed flamboyantly, in both Indian and Asian prints that gave him a slightly dandified air, and had no weapon about his person, unless one counted the long wooden staff he was leaning on, and most would sensibly discount it.

Jack Rackham had come to the Carribean many years past, looking for fame and fortune as a privateer, but ultimately, like man of his kind, had grown disillusioned with the royal navy, and struck out on his own. He'd been a captain himself, for a time, but now served as quartermaster under Charles Vane, the brains to Vane's brawn, a position that suited him perfectly.
As it was early in the season, he was surprised by the number of ships careened on the long-beach spit beyond the bay.

Anne Bonny, who never left her lovers side and never allowed her hands to stray far from the hilts of her blades, was beautiful but cold-blooded, so much so that it took a few glances to realize how attractive she was. She wore a slouch-hat low over her features, which she glowered beneath, her gaze unsettlingly suggesting she was in the process of sizing everyone int he immediate vicinity up and was unable to restrain herself from hurting them. Her hair was the color of a candle flame in a dark room, braided in places and dread-locked in others, strung with beads, and her appearance was unkempt and rough, with a heavy coat buckled around her, and the pants and shirt of a man. She walked with a jerky swagger, without any rhythm to it whatsoever.

In daylight, the Hole-In-By-The-Hill was nothing to look at: a cave in the limestone cliff above the Street, its mouth extended with dank canvas awnings, filled with a litter of tables and stools, easy enough to overlook. But after dark, it came into it's own. Barrel fires lit up, and torches and lanterns too, strung from the awning poles or hooked to the cliff face. Hogs and fowl, blistered black with honey, were spit-roasted over the smoking fire pits in the cave, and firelight glowed like gold off the low-hanging canvas. The tavern filled up with hot smoke, laughter and the stench of pipes, hops, swine fat and salt sweat.

The two of them made their way towards it, drawn by the wild, reeling music of a drunken campanica player. Inside, there were pirates lounging in chairs and on stools, some smoking, some cleaning knives, a few reading tattered copies of newspapers labeled Pirate Today and The Daily Corsair, complaining about internal politics and discussing the forecasts and predictions with a gloomy air, or showing a bit more pleasure gossiping about the affairs of the famous. There were forty or so of them, mostly captains, and just the seniors and the veterans at that. The others, the less successful, the dog-sailors and ratings, were away down the bay for the night in the cheaper stews and inns. As he stepped in, there followed a pandemonium of cheers, applause and thumping. 'Calico' Jack acknowledged the tumult with a few smiling nods and a wave of his free hand, though it didn't entirely reach his eyes, and certainly didn't go to his head. They were happy to see him now, certainly, because he was a name to be respected, because he was enormously successful. That could, and did, change at a single turn of fortune. Instead he looked around until he found the face he was looking for, and stepped over.

Sir Oliver Tressilian, better known as Sakr-el-Bahr - The Sea Hawk, was seated in the table reserved for their brotherhood, stroking the black cat on his lap. It opened it's large, calm eyes, and purred. It was a cat. Or at least, it was a kind of cat, for this cat had resting on it's back a pair of beautiful black wings, tipped with white. It's other markings were black and white, like those of an ordinary cat, with white paws and a white muzzle and front. It seemed friendly and self-possessed, and whenever the captain offered it choice pieces of food from the table, it ruffled it's wings and snapped it up hungrily.

He nodded to them as he saw them arrive, and tipped his wide brimmed hat respectfully, and 'Calico' Jack flicked a lazy salute in response, before stepping over and sitting on the other stool. "Is it as bad as I've heard?" Rackham asked, his voice slightly high pitched, and pleasantly cultured. He didn't mention the Barbary Coast buccaneer (The term ‘Captain Judas’ was applied to this type of traitorous sea captain) new pet, he had gradually acclimatized himself to that sort of thing, and it no longer quite so shattered his poise. At The Sea Hawk's side stood a fair-skinned, blond-bearded, blue-eyed renegade Scotsman named Gregory Lisle. He was a British Naval officer once, but he'd been converted and now commanded three ships beneath his master. He grunted, but was wise enough to keep his silence in this company.

"Worse." The Sir Oliver said simply. "It wasn't anything like an idle threat, I'm sorry to say. When he said war, he meant war. He's gathering anyone who will support him now."

"Damn and blast." Jack sighed, shaking his head. Technically speaking, this was a gathering of Captain's, but Charles Vane was far out of his element in proceedings of this nature, and so sent him in his place. Plenty of pirates called Libertatia home, and far more had come, since the Caribbean attempted it's defection from the law of the Brethren Court, but not just anyone was allowed to sit at this table. Each of them was counted in the inner circle of the personal fleet of a Pirate Lord, and trusted to keep order and direction in their name. They made idle small talk a little longer, Bonny contributing nothing but silent threats and periodically glaring around the room, keeping her eyes on everyone else.

Conrad on the other side of the tavern, as far as he could manage to be from everyone else, wallowing in his romantic self-pity. Most would ask why he even came to a social place like this if all he wanted to do was cultivate solitude, but that was missing the point. He was a strange one, most likely mad, and the worst sort of cynic, so utterly disconnected he was self-defeating and endlessly frustrating, but despite it all retaining a certain amount of personal charm. Indeed, 'Calico' Jack had always found him quite an appreciable conversationalist, if you kept the topic from straying into his rebellion and a distaste for society.

Captain's Charles Hunter, Jamie Waring and Jezebel jack were scheming a heist well out of their league. It would come to nothing, it never did, but Jack kept an ear on them anyway, listening for the notes of desperation. Vane liked to keep track of his rivals, particularly the ones who had strong crews who were growing in dissatisfaction and might be willing to sign on under him.

And their were others. Van Raven, the Dutchman. Tranicos, and Villiers, and McVeigh. Captain Red Ned Lynch and One-Eyed Jane, Captain Barrett, Captain Jesamiah Acorne and Dan Tempest, and plenty of other cut-throats, scallywags an ne'er-do-wells.

Terrence Vulmea arrived, a big irishman with an intimidating frame, dark of hair and hard of face. He wore a grey velvet frock coat with wide button-back cuffs, a sash of scarlet silk, some brown moleskin breeks and a pair of black, thigh-length cavalry boot, with an open shirt which revealed a torso bronzed by the sun and rippling with powerful muscles. Captain Morgan Adams walked with him, her hips swaying. She was tall, full-bosomed and large-limbed, with compact shoulders. Her whole figure reflected an unusual strength, without detracting from the femininity of her appearance. She wore short, wide-legged silk breeches, which ceased a hand's breadth short of her knees, and were upheld by a wide silken sash worn as a girdle. Flaring-topped boots of soft leather came almost to her knees, and a low-necked, wide-collared, wide-sleeved silk shirt completed her costume. On one shapely hip she wore a straight rapier, and her unruly brown hair fell in curls to the small of her back, confined by a band of crimson satin.

Captain Bob Harvey arrived a moment later, a tall, bullish, shaven-headed man with a long chin-beard braided with beads. He smiled, the way he always did, a twinkling light in his cheeky eyes, and a cheerfully chirpy expression, coming of as the kind of rascal who made a dodgy living selling counterfeit watches. Most people liked him, upon meeting him, and were surprised when they saw him for what he really was.

"Where's pops?" 'Calico Jack asked him, and Harvey simply shrugged affably and took a seat. The conversation faded, between the five of them there was no safe subject as such, too much bad blood over the years for that. And so the silence stretched on and on, until the last, but certainly not the least, of their gathering arrived. He had to stoop to fit in the cave, and the ceiling was six meters high at it's lowest point.

Edward Newgate was, in 'Calico' Jack Rackham's not inestimable opinion, the last of the legends, a throwback to the olden days of high adventure. By far the oldest pirate master still operating, Whitebeard had begun his career in the days when the likes of Gold Roger and Morgan and Bartholomew, not to mention his own illustrious ancestor Red Rackham himself, were still scourging the sea, and he seemed somehow to carry that old, bloody tradition with him. He was a pirate lord in the old sense of the phrase, and so much more than that. He was a traveler, and an explorer too, he had in his time been to all points of the compass, and on occasions served as a privateer not just for the British and French, but for Italian lords, Spanish marquises and even, it was said, Arabyan despots. He had opened trade routes, found new passages, and been the first white man to set foot on some alien shores.

He had always ruled his crew with the power of his arm and the fury of his nature. Rackham had always admired that. But Whitebeard had been old as long as he had known him, and had always seemed that way. By his own admission, he was well past ninety years Rackham's senior, which made him remarkably long-lived, and not just for a man pursuing such a risk-heavy career, but for any man, full stop. And yet, he couldn't help but notice that Whitebeard was at last showing the cares of his long years.

Edward Newgate was still a hulking giant of a man, his body so swollen with muscle that he resembled a story-book giant, fully twice the height of the tallest of his crew. He was bigger then any man, and bigger still in the closed confines of the tavern. His limbs were gnarled like the trunks of ancient oaks, knotted with masses of muscle and thews, each of which stood out distinct, like iron cables, and each of his fingers were the size of a lesser man's wrist. There was no soft flesh to lend symatery or to mask the raw savagery and sheer power of his frame, and yet there was a leanness and powerful joints that suggested he was capable of blinding speed when he so chose. But now there was also a hint of a stoop to his frame, and the lines of his face were deep. His hair was gone, though the mustache he favored was as impressive and fiercely martial as ever. A latticework of scars and cuts adorned the warrior’s body where it stood exposed, but there were none on his back, for he had never shown his back to an enemy. Edward Newgate’s eyes were as dark and hard as anthracite, and seemed to be the only part of him that had not aged a day.

He wore, as ever, a long admiral's coat, and trousers of the same material, forgoing a shirt entirely, and despite his monstrous size these garments seemed looser on him then they should, as if age was eroding him away. In an enormous hand he carried an immense pole, a 'bisento' built to his scale, and tipped with a long curved blade. The Devil-Fruit had enhanced what was already there, turning him into a towering monument to muscular over-development, but he was no simple brute. He was entirely more then that, and to many, it was better to serve the meanest, most menial role on one of his ships then be a captain in your own right. So had always been the thoughts of Rackham, and many like him, Charles Vane included.

Each of them got respectfully to their feet as he entered and made his way to their table, and sat down again only when he had. Rackham opened the proceedings. He read the minutes, reported on the state of the roof at the Filibusters' Home of Rest, noted the compensation awards to paid-up Brotherhoodmembers wounded in recent actions, and proposed an interim dividend. All passed, whereafter they proceeded to 'Other business' - i.e. deciding whom they would clobber next and rob blind. (Just like any other board of directors, really) Which was where the unfortunate subject of the war came up.

A bit more chaotically anachronistic and bizarre, I'm happy to say. Unfortunately, all I really did was introduce characters, but I'm still quite happy with it. I'll follow up with what they actually discussed sometime tomorrow, if anyone is reading this and cares. This version of Jack Rackham taken from the show Black Sails, which I heartily recommend.

This version of Whitebeard hopefully acceptable to Animekid. I don't actually know all that much about the character, bar what I read on the wiki page, so if anyone wants to make suggestions, please be my guest.

[darkblade]

Nothing contradicting anything I have planned yet.

[darkblade]

I'm sorry I haven't been posting much guys. We just got through a three to four day storm that both made it difficult to find time away from shovelling snow and to get into a tropical piratey mindset when I could.

Seriously this is the kind of winter the Starks warned us about. Today we had half a foot of snow and my road hasn't seen a plow in almost a week.

I'll try to post tonight.

[ThePhantom]

Wow, that's a lot of snow you got.

[Cracklord]

Whenever you are ready. We all know what it's like to hit a dry spot in the well of inspiration.

[Cracklord]

This didn't work last time, but I'm an eternal optimist.

A few notes: In Song of Ice and Fire (I used to be a bigger fan then I am now), the Greyjoy elders (as in the older generation) are the only family who don't seem to have tremendous daddy issues (A case could be made for the Tyrells, but I usually don't bother to). So I figure that Quellon must have been a spectacularly uninspiring man, that Balon completely usurped his position as head male of the household by the age of fourteen (as Aeron remembers things, I believe). A few references to dread C'thulhu, but only a few. If that particular city get's woken up, it won't be background.

Black Cove is an utterly forgettable Computer game, here referencing a place where the Ghost Pirates, Cervantes and LeChuck and suchlike, make port. Another update for the Brethren tonight.

For simplicities sake, The Brotherhood are Kenaway's mob, the Brethren are the loyalists. Both sides are more or less bastards.

Lord Quellon Greyjoy was dead, and they carried the body from the city of Pyke in a short procession through the snow towards the surf pounded shoreline. The lands of the ironborn ended here, at this great wedge of granite cliffs jutting out high above the freezing sea. Beyond it were the lands the Skraelings had held since they first came here.

The foam of icy waves lashes the cruel shingle, narrow beaches of ragged bedrock and fallen boulders, polished cobbles and the stringy strands of ice and snow scabbed sand. It was no fit place for men, this barren, wind scoured shores in this hungry, sun-shunned time of the year. The land fought back against settlement and habitation, leaving them to scratch a living off rocks, and so long ago they turned to the seas bounty for survival, and the softer shores of their neighbors. They had hung the priests of the old gods from the branches of trees, and turned the voice from the seas. And the voice had answered them, dreaming, but not unaware.

And now, they brought the corpse of their lord back to the waters. Dead at sea, along with most of the men who had survived that disastrous raid. Those remaining that had served under him - those despised few who had limped back to Pyke after the long flight from the vengeful blades of their enemies who had at last followed them across the sea, and then from the storm that had smashed their ships - followed the solemn bier with their broken swords carried before them. Their lives were forfeit, but there were few enough warriors here to put them to death now for their cowardice. And little need. No captain would take them on his ship, disgraced as they were, no door would be open to them at night lest the shame fall upon it's opener, their families would strike their names from memory. There would be no aid or succor to be found for them here, just a lingering death.

The lord's closest friends, those who had captained his ships and had been favored with plunder and land carried the body on a tattered palanquin of broken shields, the body wrapped in the tattered sails of his ship. Quellon had been a big man, but they bore him without complaint. They had let their lord drown, the fleet be scattered, and the plunder lost to the depths of the ocean. Those who governed them had said it was the displeasure of the Drowned God whose dreams had called the storm and turned reason to madness, and none had dared gainsay them. Most had probably agreed.

And so the Iron Islands was without a lord. When the season ended and the ships returned, his sons would be named lords after him, he had done that much right, but they would not think kindly of him, if they did at all. The others were dead, slain in battle as the gods decreed, and Quellon had died in the knowledge that his children despised him, and surpassed him, and that his bloody deeds would be forgotten in a generation. The womenfolk did not follow the procession, and his shame was complete.

His bearers followed a path to the water, where a fire burned in a pit hacked into the frozen ground. The waters of the ocean were dark, cold and unforgiving, and a beached storm-battered ship rose and fell with the surge and retreat of the tide. Sturdily built from overlapping timbers and tar, a rearing dragonshead was carved at it's prow. It was a proud vessel and it had carried them through the worst storms the gods could hurl from the skies. Canon and lightning had lashed it as best they could, but it had been up to the task. It deserved better, but if there was one thing they had learned in their shame, it was that this world cared nothing for what was deserved.

They clambered aboard, and lay him on his ship. They were strong men, and it took no effort to maneuver him onto a tiered pile of precious timbers and kindling. Little wood grew on their home, they raided the settlements of the Skraelings for it, or waited it to drift in by the sea. One by one they slashed their forearms with the broken blades of their swords, cutting deep and spilling their blood over the deck. They dropped their swords to lie around the pyre before departing. One warrior with a winged helm of raven feathers waited until the others had splashed down into the sea before upending a flask of oil over the body. He doused the ships timbers with what remained, and tossed the flask onto the deck. He tugged a tied rope at the minmast, and the black sail unfurled with a boom of hide.

He turned and dropped over the side of the ship, wading ashore and taking his place with the rest of his forsaken crew-mates. Their lord and captain had died, yet they had fled and lived, those that had come through the storm which smashed the ships, at least. Their shame would be never-ending. Women would shun them, children would spit on them and they would be right to do so. The Drowned God would deny them for all eternity until they made good on their debt, and the stars were right.

Ten of them took their place, five on either side of the ship, and they heaved and pushed the ship off the sand and into the icy surf, where an icy current seized the ship. The freezing wind caught the sail, and the ship eased away from the shore, wallowing without a steersman to guide it or rowers to power it. The tide and wind dragged the ship away from the land, twisting it around like a leaf on a pond. The treacherous currents and riptides had dashed many an unwary vessel against the cliffs, yet they bore their lords ship out to sea with gentle swells. The raven-helmed warrior lifted a bow and nocked an arrow to the string. He held the cloth-wrapped tip in the fire until it caught light and hauled back on the string. The wind dropped and he loosed the shaft, the fiery missile making a graceful arc through the greying sky until it hammered home in the ships mast.

Slowly, and then with greater ferocity as the oil caught light, the ship burned. flames roared to life, hungrily devouring the rotten meat of the dead man and setting to work on the oily timbers. Within moments, the ship was ablaze from bow to stern, black smoke trailing a mournful line towards the sky. They listen to the hungry roar of the flames, the waves and wind, and watch the silhouette of the burning sail against the horizon. None of them break the silence, though whether bowed by grief, shame at their failings or despair at their futures could not be said. They only watched until the ship finally split apart with a sound like a heart-breaking. It sank beneath the waves and with a final slurp of water sank beneath the waters surface.

Lord Quellon Greyjoy was dead, and nobody mourned him.

+ + + + +

Pirates nations and governments were almost a misnomer, despite the prosaic fact of their existence, as most pirates were largely unaffiliated with their own chosen government, going years largely ignoring it's existence. Oh, they paid a tribute of their stolen plunder to whatever Captain held dominion over the ocean in which they plied their trade, the same as they paid a further portion to the men tasked with reselling it, and for the most part they preferred to make berth in ports and harbors under the control of the Brethren Court, knowing that they offered safe haven and free trade, but beyond that they largely were left to their own devices, the way they preferred it. For the most part, every vessel was a kingdom of it's own, and only in the direst straits did they find common cause and band together. The last pirate armada was nearly a hundred years ago, and that had been barely a dozen separate captains.

Pirates determined station by wealth, crew size, and reputation. The more successful pirates were accorded respect, and deferred to in times of crisis, but for the most part had no real authority. The Brethren Court had only come into being as a kind of mutual defense pact many long years ago, deciding that when the nations of world moved against the pirates, they would gather to fight back, and for the most part the Lords reflected this. And so, while each of the pirate Lords had hundreds of captains who were, in theory, their subjects, the task of gathering them and convincing them to fight against The Brethren Court itself was no easy feat. The civil war was making a mess of old friendships and alliances. Something like this had never been anticipated, there were struggles and skirmishes over treasure, prizes and pride, yes, but the Brethren existed as arbiters, to keep grudges and feuds from disrupting the lives they had built for themselves on the endless ocean, where the bonds of civilization held no sway, and men were free to take their destinies entirely in their own hands.

Normally, there was no need for a Lord to posses more then four or five ships at his disposal, along with a tangled web of favors and alliances among other powerful captains. Now, ships and messenger birds went in every direction across the ocean, from the Barbary Coastline to the tropic islands of the Caribbean. They each bore the same message, written with the same fear and urgency. That the pirate fraternities were at one another's throats, and that a war was brewing. That the Lovers Scar had stolen the crown and demanded allegiance that was not rightfully theirs, and that there was only one, possible response. War.

The brewing war turned all to one side or the other, extending across boundaries and divisions that had formerly been inviolate, old enmities were being put aside amongst traditional foes. From the iron-men whose longships and dragonships raided the length of the northern seas, to the blood drinking savages who scarred themselves and pierced their lobes and lips with slivers of bone, to the former men of europe made pirates by desperation, necessity or ambition.

When the replies began arriving at the port of Nassau, many of them were flat refusals or elaborate insults. But others were offers of warriors, or ships, or the allegiance of entire factions and coalitions. In the end, it had happened almost by itself—as if it was always meant to be, waiting in the hearts of every one of them, and needing only a leader to act as a catalyst. This was no longer about a crown, or a city, or even treachery. Such things were a part, but no longer composed the meaning.

Word was spreading that Captain Kheired-Din, Basha of Algiers was willing to throw in with Edward Kenaway and would bring with him sixty ships, for the Brethren had did their best to crush him when he made an effort to strike out on his own, decimating his raiding fleets, burning the harbor he had built and driven a sword through his heart. It didn't take, and he had vowed revenge. The Brotherhood of the coast had brought a dozen vessels, and the Iron Jarl Victorian Greyjoy himself had been dispatched by his brother to add his support to the pirate nation arising within the Caribbean. Lesser ships who nobody had even thought to contact began arriving, to ask for the privilege of fighting alongside the fleet.

Others still were simply spoiling for a fight, and gravitated towards whichever side suited them, hearts alight with the plunder they could take from the other pirates.

The harbor was filled with every ship imaginable, dragonships, barques and triremes, corsair galleys and galleons, even the chariot ships of far Ind, pulled by harnessed snakes. Over the course of the month, the numbers had swelled until it was not an army any more, but the gathered anger of a new nation, the pirates of the Caribbean had once more united, this time not by neccesity, not by the conquest of one man, but by rage against The Lovers Scar.

By their hands, Nassau's future was to be assured. The life they had built their could still decay and fall. The captain's could fragment, lose common cause, or return to the brethren out of fear or greed or ambition, and that would be the end of things. but for now, they were united in their hundreds. In their thousands.

It would not be enough. The Brethren could field ten ships for every one of theirs. And the British were moving in, reclaiming lost territory from lawlessness as the pirates gathered their strength, and for the first time in living memory.


"There be one place left, in which we could find others." Blackbeard said slowly one night, as though forcing the words through unwilling lips. he would have remained silent, but the first battle of the long war had taken place, and Black Bellamy had gone down around Cape Horn. "You know of where I speak. Th' Black Cove."

"Has it come to that? Really?"

"I couldn't say. But they haven't chosen a side yet. I only offer because…"

Kenaway thought for a moment of the consequences of success. Then he thought of the men who had come to his aid. Pirates thieves and scoundrels, they had shown honor, and he respected that. How flimsy his principles and fears seemed when weighed against their lives. So he nodded once, shortly. "Do it."

[ThePhantom]

Interesting, a pity that I'm not familar with all the characters, otherwise I get more of the connections.

[Cracklord]

You don't need to know the character's in the way the extras in a movie don't much matter.

I've been putting off writing an actual naval battle, because it's hard, but I'll get on with it soonish, don't worry.

In the cove of the Isle known only as Shipwreck lay the Armada at rest, a sprawling city unlike any other to be found on the surface of the earth. It had been constructed over centuries from the hulls of shattered ships piled atop each other so that the edifice rose in an enormous, spiky wooden mountain of decaying and rusted vessels, roped together by rigging, catwalks and suspended bridges of cordage and plank in a mad, chaotic jumble. There was little rhyme or reason to the architecture, it simply grew larger and larger every year, and like an iceberg, the bulk of the ancient ships were entirely submerged deep beneath the surface of the water, wheezing pumps keeping the water from flooding the entire city.

Shipwreck Isle had never been formerly colonized, but was settled now. The shoreline was punctuated with scores of shipyards, warehouses and jetties clung to the rocky crag, ghostly half-completed vessels looming around the injured ships that had docked for repairs, and the smaller boats belonging to the rural laborers who fished to supplement monotonous diet those aboard lived by. Even the Armada could not stay afloat on nothing but prostitution and piracy, but there was little enough to be eked out of such a desolate land.

There was a light, silent wind that night, and the sky was cold as iron, with no moon or stars in sight. In the quiet of that bleak sea bright orange lights like stars marked the torches that tried to banish the crepuscular gloom. The better of a hundred dark shadows of pirate vessels were docked in the cove, cogs and junks and clippers, sloops and feluccas and here and there a steamship, leaving little room for Whitebeard's Ship of the Line to find anchor, or the dozen ships that provided it's escort.

Edward Newgate was first to come ashore, he ship's intercom playing a power-cord heavy instrumental version of 'Rock of Ages (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztFa7Ha4Vy8)' with a throbbing mandolin accompaniment as he did so, stepping into labyrinthine, higgledy-piggledy passageways. A cray carrying cargo with it's weak upper limbs gaped at the giant, then scuttled away through a creaking corridor of wooden planks. Whitebeard only shook his head and folded arms like tree-trunks across his giant chest, as his company gathered around the ships, running repairs or loading victuals under the direction of Jack Rackham, the company quatermaster. Four men were parbuckling kegs of water, oil and beer up the side of the Leviathan, trying not to glance up at the great figurehead built into the prow.

The bulk of his fleet was still anchored near Cape Horn, where they'd ambushed 'Black' Bellamy, and only Captains Charles Vane and Bob Harvey joined him before they headed along what had once been a deck. Whitebeard had wanted to stay with his men, but he'd been recalled back to the Armada, and so had left the bulk of his forces. Even 'Black Sam' Bellamy couldn't handle that sort of power.

Drapes formed from fishing nets swayed and rustled in the seas breeze, and old figureheads served as columns to hold up the cieling, so chipped and worn by time and tide that they were almost unrecognizable. They past it and entered the room quietly, nodding to it's occupant.

Captain Reis was tall and still terrible, despite being just into his sixtieth year. He was unmistakable, with his long curly hair that was now silver with only a hint of black fine and wispy as spiderweb and receding from the forehead, with a pointed beard threaded with iron gray. He had a strong but not overly large jaw and his cheekbones were well-defined. His skin was darkened by the sun, and there were deep lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He wore a coat cut from red and black velvet trimmed in gold frogging, with epaulets and black knee-breaches with coarse white stockings. He wore a dark leather belt as a sash, from the loop of which hung his terrible crescent-scythe that had a dark fame as terrible as his own. He preyed on everything. Mainlander and pirate alike. Neither Vane or Harvey could quite bring themselves to look at him, and instead looked past him.

Edward Newgate towered above him by a tremendous margin, yet they seemed equals, of a match for one another in presence, just as they were in fame. "He'll be here in a moment. I wanted to see you first old friend." He said, his voice a strange mix of coarse diction and the fine tenor of a British gentleman. "The Brotherhood made some early gains. He thinks if you don't act quickly, more will decide there's a change in the winds, and go over. Rats fleeing a sinking ship. But not you."

"You said you wouldn't fight." The deep rumble of Whitebeard's voice made the floor vibrate, and a man couldn't help but be intimidated, but their was no anger in his words, just idle curiosity.

"I have no intention of doing so." Reis replied with a chuckle and a shake of his leonine head. His tone was neutral and dangerous, and his eyes were capricious. It was difficult to believe he himself knew his intentions, that he wasn't mad. "Curiosity, aye, but the business of war is no business of mine. I'm not on either side. Let them fight it out if they wish. I would have thought you would have known better." He replied lightly, running a thumb along the blade of his scythe, but not letting it stray to the edge.

"Some would say if you're not with us, you're against us."

"I say the ocean doesn't care where the little fishes swim." He chuckled shaking his head as though the idea was beneath him. ""I am Captain Jonah Reis. Men shrink from my shadow, and women swoon at my name, and any who wish me an enemy had best make peace with their gods. And yourself?"

"I'm too old to go changing sides." He glanced first at Vane, then at Harvey, and sighed. "We built this. And now I’m old, my friend. My bones are heavy and my limbs are slow. I wanted a family, and in my crew I found one, I think. And now, I just want to find my cross, pay off my valiant men, and lay my head and sleep for a time, until all passes away.” Whitebeard replied. "I have known so little peace."

Reis shook his head. "Stay on this course, and you will get your wish."

+ + + + +

At the pier by the windwall, 'Calico' Jack Rackham stood, looking over at the ships of their company. The Ranger was a twenty-gun, two hundred tonne brigantine, one hundred paces long at the keel. She had two masts, both fully square-rigged, with a fore-and-aft sail on the lower part of the mainmast. A fast ship, quick in the turn and sharp of tooth. A hunter’s ship. Charles Vane's ship.

In her shadow lay her consort, a sixty-pace swift sloop called the Royal Phoenix, a little beauty of twelve guns, which he commanded, and it was that where his attention was fixed. Her hull, golden oak above the waist and white below, was made of butted planks, which let her slip like a sword through the water. She was fore-and-aft rigged on the shorter mizzen mast, and could raise a square sail from the main if the wind was running, but her exceptionally long bowsprit, which almost doubled her overall length, could rig a great lateen sail, letting her skip along the wind at a speed that was almost unmatched. He had mixed thoughts, knowing it was to sail at his command once again.

Even now, Whitebeard would be meeting the Lovers, or one of their representative if their secrecy extended even to the nine pirate Lords, to be given course and heading. Through some unknown sorcery or other science they seemed able to predict the movements of their enemies, to know the location of every ship, where it was and where it would be. He did not understand how such a thing could be, and neither did he question it. It was better not to ask too many questions in regards to the new Pirate King.

He glanced round and started, gaping in surprise to find himself facing a tall, gaunt gentleman, wearing a long black coat and a tricome that shadowed his face, somber clothes, befitting a mourner. He had emerged from the ruddy murk of what was one of the fortresses gun deck, and had somehow approached him without making any sign of his presence. Not the squeak of timbers beneath his weight, his presence disturbed no air, and he didn't even seem to breathe.

It was the Nocturne's cadaverous captain, one of the most powerful men on the Armada, the Governor of the district of Dry Fall, and one of the admirals who served the Lover's Scar directly. Even in a company of brutes and murderers, Brucolac was a very devil.

He was unmistakable, with his crisp-as-parchment voice and dry, earthy smell. At some point in his long career, the man must have been shipwrecked off the coast of South America, for there was no other explanation 'Calico' Jack could think of for the way Brucolac’s canine teeth had been filed down to a point. He smiled to see Jack, an unnerving sight. His sharp canines drew spots of blood from his pale lower lip, then beckoned with the linstock in his bony hands. It was an ebony baton, the tip carved in the form of a lion’s mouth.

"Not coming into the city?" He asked softly, drifting closer.

"No need." 'Calico' Jack replied shortly, shrugging his shoulders as he did, before returning his attention to his ship.

“I have come to give you certain instructions. Come aft with me, to my quarters." He said, beckoning again. "We’ll take a reviving drink, you and I.”

Jack shuddered. “I thank you, but no.”

“Come now,” Brucolac whispered, more insistent.

“Back down." Came the deep rumble of Whitebeard's voice, as he loomed in the doorway, his height forcing him bent almost double in the tight corridors so that his knuckles dragged across the deck. His muscles shifted like a couple of steamships maneuvering around one another.

“I meant him no harm,” Brucolac said quickly, stepping back into the shadows, and seeming to vanish. Whitebeard turned his eyes onto 'Calico Jack, and moved closer, almost crawling in the low, narrow corridors. They had not been built with his frame in mind.

'Calico' Jack had often begged Whitebeard to record a narrative of his exploits, for his life had contained so much more than any one man should have been capable of. His stories, his secrets, the strange facts of his enterprises, were priceless gems and should have been bound up in a book like the ones in the great libraries, for future generations to learn from. But Edward Newgate was always tight-lipped, and desired no glory from posterity. “My stories will die with me,” he’d once told 'Calico' Jack, “except those that are remembered by the likes of you and told on to others.”

"Blackbeard has had his way." Rackham said, sounding tired despite himself. He understood the ramifications of what war would mean, even if nobody else did. "We'll do the jobs of the Crown Navy's for them at this rate, slaughter one another for no reason to speak of. You know, this whole idea, I thought it had the answers. That's why I was part of Nassau, to start with, and why I came to you later. The world's a big place. Should be enough room for everyone to have what they want. To keep what they make. But it'll never be. There'll always be people who live off other people, and they always rise to the top." The era that Gold Roger had begun, that romantic idea that everyone could find a place in the world that had what they want, and find in the company of others like them a fraternity was dying out. Power and greed mattered now, and that, it seemed, was the side he was on. "What are we fighting for?" He asked, with a morose sigh.

"Who knows anymore? I'm an old man. Too old to change, maybe. Too old to try and find a new side. I've always been one of the brethren, since the beginning, even. But don't let me make the decision for you."

'Calico' Jack snorted. "You're the only one I'd bother to fight for, pops." he said. "I didn't become a pirate to fight wars for kings, I could do that just fine as an Englishman. Now, I'm an enemy of humanity, and it's worth it. Every day the noose is a heart-beat away, and it's worth it. All us who sail, no matter which reason we say takes us there, all we want is the same thing in the end, liberty. We want to know we have no master to whom we have to answer, 'cept that best serves us, and we may leave it all behind any day we so choose. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I'm your man. To the bone."

For a moment, Whitebeard lowered his eyes, moved by the sentiment, then clapped Rackham on the shoulder gently. Rackham still swayed, it was like being lightly patted by a wrecking ball. "Then take your ship to Murmansk." Whitebeard said, at last, as though it cost him more then he wanted it to. Rackham nodded, then returned to his ship.

+ + + + +

"Captain once more, it would seem." He said thoughtfully in his cabin, adjusting his clothes. For a moment, he glanced around his cabin thoughtfully, disliking the disruption of the familiar. Most was where he remembered it, the bed, the prints and cupboards and even the desk, but it wasn't right. It had been occupied by someone else, and there presence was to be found on everything. Well, nothing for it now.

First he called up the lamp trimmer to set the lanterns, for even on a bright day, the low-beamed chamber was gloomy. Then he laid about the untidy quarters, hurling items of clothing and other oddments out through the gallery lights into the ocean. Grumbling, he threw out a shoe, a doublet, an empty powder horn, a tricorn hat, another shoe, a bundle of bedclothes, a mandolin, then shook his head in frustration. It wasn't having any meaningful effect, just made the incongruities more noticeable.

He found his chessboard, noting that half the pieces had been lost, and his good knife which had been lost under the chair, and finally sighed and gave up. First he brought in his own chest of customary calicoes, and then looked at his fingers, missing his gold and stones. He glanced about, then removed a false bottom from the bottom of his chest of drawers which had passed under it's new occupant unnoticed, and dragged out his chest. Realizing he'd lost the key, he wrenched off the clasps, and emptied the contents across the tabletop, just as the door swung open, and Mary Read stepped inside.

Mary Read was the night to Bonny's day. She was bright and lively, with a short, pageboy haircut and pale skin that no amount of sun had ever managed to darken. She was lean as a greyhound, with long, clever fingers and mischief dancing in her clever eyes, and a saber cut across one cheek. She shook her head at the room, placed her sea chest in her corner, next to Anne Bonny's, then walked over to see what was consuming so much of 'Calico' Jack's attention.

Precious, glinting treasures were scattered out across the desk. Garnets, rubies, malachite rings and bloodstone pins, wedges of Arabian silver, enamelled crosses, opals, pearls, emerald pins, amethyst brooches, rose-sapphire pendants, gold snuffboxes. Ducats and doubloons, square-cut tierces, cruzados and peso octos, rials, pounds and dollars, rupees guilders, yuans, roubles and all manner of gold and silver currency, including some hexagonal and crescent-shaped issues that he couldn't remember where he had found, or even if he'd seen before.

Jack glanced up as he felt her presence, smiled, then returned to his work, rattling around in the glittering spread, trying rings for size and tossing them back if they were too small or too big. He eventually decided on a fat green tourmaline for his right middle finger, a blue sapphire for his left ring finger, a round, rose-blood ruby for his left middle, and a gold thumb ring, coiled in the shape of a snake, for his left hand. Then he slipped a chunky gold loop into his left earlobe, rubbed it and spat for fortune.

“Gold in the ear improves the eyesight,” he told her with a smile.

“I’ve heard that superstition.” She replied, placing a hand on her hip.

Rackham winked. “Well, maybe, but I'd rather keep it and not need it then go without and find I need glasses.” He sighed. "Murmansk, it would seem, is our heading. What exactly that means, or what to expect in the way of prizes has not been entrusted to me, which suggests we'll be taking on mysterious cargo. No hurry, however, we have three months to make our appointment. Give the men as much shore leave as they want."

“When that hour comes, will they stand?” she asked, closing the cabin door behind her.

“Who?”

“Your crew,” She said, repeating her earlier remark like a refrain.

“Well I hope so.” He said. "I'll look pretty foolish trying to sail a ship on my lonesome."

+ + + + +

In a stormwracked stretch of water, stretching around a cove that every mother-loving ship ever to sail avoided as though it led up the styx itself, dark and angry as the clouds hissed and spat lightning high above, as the pillars of heaven shook and the rain came tumbling down, and three vessels bobbed and rolled with the waves a few hundred feet from a rocky shore. Three decrepit ships had been moored in Black Cove. The ships were ringed with buoys strung together with barbed chain, above and below the water, and the anchors that rooted them were scabbed with uncounted years of rust and barnacles. Each of the ships was a wreck, their timbers rotten and crumbling away, their sails mere shreds that flapped in the winds, their masts had snapped or splintered to stumps, and their gunports yawning like cavities. The sea lapped and rolled at them, trying to pull them under, but none succumbed to the storm, nor would they ever. For they were not dead. Dormant. Like volcanos. The Adrian, The Tempest, The Dead Starfish.

And on the shore, another ship lay in the shallows, bow into the beach, a great barque that had once cowed the greatest ships of the world with it's might, now nothing but a rotting corpse. The Black Freighter was it's name, and it's captain had claimed this place as his haven, ten years past when, under full sail, the ship had run into the cove, rupturing its hull on the banks and shoals before finally foundering and running aground. Sunk up to its gun-ports, it leaned over in the breakers. Two of its masts were down, but the mainmast still stood proud, sheets billowing, fruitlessly driving the stationary ship against the island. The hull and breastwork were marred by scorched cannon holes, and part of the starboard side was cloven in. This ship had been wounded unto death before it had run aground to its demise, pilotless. On the shore, the tide had flushed up scattered debris from the wreck, and some of the twisted pieces looked like corpses, though after all this time such a thing was ridiculous to imagine. The hull was now covered with crustaceans, the paint stripped away, the decks caved in.

And yet, one lonely figure still strode the decks of the beached ship, Captain Cervantes de León. It could be no other, few had seen him, and fewer descriptions of him existed, but despite that he was unmistakable, that mad figure strode the decks in defiance of reason or logic. His high, broad form was still clad in the tattered remnants of finery, though it had become so ragged and worn that . He wore an extravagant pirate hat perched atop his head, though it added no frivolity to his appearance, and the remnants a long, tattered cape that flitted about as the strong winds blew past him. A lion’s mane of wiry white hair floated around a face that was enslaved by violent passions, and his dark skin was a sickly, and diseased color of bruised flesh and frostbite, with darker shadows beneath the eyes. He held his swords with his arms crossed, and looked the very personification of the dread symbol of the Jolly Roger. The rightmost blade was some infernal living combination of iron and flesh, the hilt seemingly composed of shell-like layers. And his hard, cruel eyes were fixed on some distant point in the far horizon.

And away aft, a dim, shadowy form stood in the wake of a swaying belt of moonlight, that swept the deck a bit abaft the main-mast. Tall and wide, it could not be seen as more then a silhouette, indistinct as it was, but one gained an impression of sickly green light, of a beard that moved as though alive, dancing and flickering like flame. Of a crimson, tattered coat over yellowing shirt and dark trousers, and of thick lips pulled back in a savage smile, but beneath that smile was something else. Something that capered and grinned and showed it's teeth. Something that would chase it's prey until blood flew from it's quarry's nose in terror, until it moaned and begged. Something that would laugh as it tore it's screaming prey open. Captain LeChuck.

No sane man would ever charter a course anywhere near that stretch of sea. But in the storm around the cove, the Queen Anne's Revenge was closing on the harbor. It seemed to radiate a deep, throbbing red light like the dying embers of a fire, not only from its heavy iron lanterns, but from the bloodstained hull and crimson sheets. Even in the pestilential evil that the throbbed in the Black Cove, it had a presence all of it's own. The ship cut through the chopping water, somehow unencumbered by the swell or the storm, as if the lashing rain and lightning suited it as sailing weather, just as a bright, fresh day would suit an ordinary vessel. The gale, the thunder and the pitch-black sky attended the Queen Anne's Revenge like consorts. No man handled the rigging or ropes, bar one, who had lashed himself to the wheel, and whose dark eyes glittered as his ship drove through the storm. He had come to make an alliance, and he would be damned before wind and rain drove him back.

[Cracklord]

Silence...as the 'Wydah' glided over the dark green sea bounded by distant banks of thin sea-mist. The moon was down, the sky a dark arch overhead, and far eastward there was still not so much as a shimmer of dawn. Upstairs the ship is deserted, save for the look-out in the crow's nest who was frowning over the crossword in the Daily Corsair. One across, 'What ships usually sail on?' by way of hint, three letters. Rum? He peeps down to see what the twenty eight gun brig is floating on at the moment. Water? Too many letters. He sighs; another bloody anagram, probably...what kind of sadist thinks these up?

But from galley-boy to first mate the rest of the ship's company lay asleep, packed four deep in their focsle hammocks below decks, and had their heads down; even the rats and weevils are flat out. There was not even a man at the helm. But it was lashed securely and in that placid sea no hand was needed on the wheel. The breeze was light but steady. Land was a thin blue line in the distance.

Aft, in the First Class Cabin, Captain 'Black Sam' Bellamy was still up, poring over a chart in his great cabin, scratching his sharp, pointed beard and muttering "Belike an' bedamned" as he plots his u-turn round the bottom of South America. He was bareheaded and his shirt was open, revealing his broad hairy chest, one hand in the pocket of a beautiful smoking jacket, and his effects were on a stand by the door to his cabin.

It was a handsome room, and he was proud of it. Rich drapes, some twinkling with embroidery of silver and gold covered the walls except where the shuttered windows were, and the shutters of those where gilded. Similar but darker fabrics hid the low ceiling, making a gorgeous canopy in which the flecks of gold and silver were like stars. Scattered about where plump cushions and low tables, on which burned a multitude of candles and where fruits and sweetmeats of Peru were choicely available. On shelves around the walls were neatly stacked like small logs a vast reserve of candles, numerous scrolls, jugs, bottles and enameled boxes. The bed clothes were cloth of gold, and six sea-chests overflowed with a King's ransom of gold and jewels,. It smelled faintly of tobacco and rum, mingled with wax and incense.

The bed was occupied by Liz, stretched like some great black cat, the proud, fearless sea-queen who gutted Spaniards before breakfast, and had been known to roast cathedralfuls of nuns just for laughs. He stared at her fondly for a moment, before turning back to the charts with a sigh. Despite some early gains, the Brethren Court were hitting back twice as hard. He was meant to have met One-eyed Jill and Captain Shakespeare by now, and yet here he was all alone. The back of his neck pricked as he narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong.

Sighing, he glanced out his window, then paused and stared again, eyes widening in shock. Out of the mist they came just as the first glimmer of sun topped the eastern horizon - fell shapes of doom and dread, surging in on the hapless pirate ship. Ships - Junks to be specific - loomed where he had expected to see only naked ocean stretching to the skyline. The one in the lead was little more than a hundred yards away, and was bearing down swiftly on the 'Wydah', obviously with the intention of laying her alongside. Her bulwarks were lined with tense figures, bristling with boarding-pikes and grappling irons, and above her paper sails was the flag of Mistress Cheng I Sao herself. It was the lead vessel, but it was not alone.

The ship was closing in, turning starboard to face him board to board. How had they found him? Was there no crack in the infernal omniscience of the Lover's Scar? How was it that they seemed able to effortlessly predict the Brotherhood's every move, even before they made it?

"All hands to battle-quarters!" yelled Black Sam, not hesitating for an instant, getting to his feet, then froze in delayed indecision for a split instant about something altogether else. Then he shook his head before throwing his coat, sword-belt and hat over the top of his pajamas, then running onto the deck. He didn't wake Liz. She was grumpy first thing in the morning.

He strode over to the wheel, a swagger in his step, a hand on the hilt of his blade,, firm command in his features. He very nearly managed to pull it off, and be genuinely imposing as he did it. Tall and dark-eyed, his hair so dark as to be almost blue, and his beard curled around a mouth that always seemed to find something to smile about, dressed all in satin that was black and green, wearing a dark bicome set at a rakish angle with a green plume of feathers trailing down the back, defiantly roaring at his men to mobilize against the attackers, he made a fine picture of a captain. If not for the fuzzy slippers that were a bit much even by the eclectic fashions of pirates, he would have been a sight to quell the courage of any honest man.

Peg-Leg Hastings had mobilized the men, and they were distributing muskets, pistols and cutlasses from the armory, and running out the cannons. Bellamy stood on the deck, staring at the fleet that had crept up on him in the night. His eyes passed over each of the hard eyed orientals fingering their blades and loading their bronze cannons with projectiles shaped like dragon heads that exploded on impact. Maybe a score of vessels. A drop in the ocean to Mistress Cheng, but against his lone ship he would have his work cut out for him. "Wake up, you lousy dogs!" he roared again, his voice enough to shake the ship. "Up, curse you! Run out the guns and hoist the colors! The Brethren are at our throats, and we have a fight on our hands!"

His only response came in the form of staccato commands from the junk's deck, barking across the narrowing strip of blue water.

"Damnation!"

Cursing luridly he strode across the poop to the swivel-gun which stood at the head of the larboard ladder. Seizing this he swung it about until its muzzle bore full on the bulwark of the approaching ship. Squinting along its barrel as if he were aiming a musket, he lit the fuse, and laughed as his aim was as good as ever. In one shot he'd disabled the rudder chain, leaving the ship unable to correct it's turn.

"Strike your colors, you damned fool!" came a hail from the dreadful figure of the captain. 'Black Sam' didn't even glance his way, much less deign to reply to such a ridiculous suggestion. Only thirty men had his back, his loyal crew, but he cared not - his blood was burning in his veins and not three hundred or three thousand would be able to best him.

The ships thumped and scraped together with a violent judder. The Brotherhood hurled out lines and hooks, catching at the rail and gunwales and hauling the vessels tight against one another. Musket and caliver fire rang out from the Junk's sheets, and men in dropped or lurched backwards.
“On them. On them!” Bellamy yelled, leading the boarding charge as he swung across, his cutlass clenched between his teeth. he let go at the end of his perfect arc, eighteen feet in the air. He improvised a triple backflip before landing, removing his sword, and getting stuck in.

Bellamy fought silently - his eyes bright and his teeth bared. He laid about with his cutlass, felling opponents three a stroke, bending and swaying around their feeble lunges and swipes. He advanced like a whirlwind, and his blade was alive with light. They fell before it - how they fell. Whatever else you might say of 'Black Sam', he did not go gently, on that day he acquitted himself as well as any hero.

The enemy seeming stunned by his fury and could not organize themselves effectively. The Brethren didn't flee but were taken aback by his ferocity. His cutlass was a blur of motion, whirling about in a form expertly devised to deal with multiple foes. Blood flew from the blade as he dispatched them in their numbers, forcing them back as more and more of his men made it across to join him.

He felt as he always did in a boarding action. Time seemed to blur and slow and even stop, how the past and the future vanished until there was nothing but the instant, how fear fled, and thought fled, and even the demands of his body. He didn't feel stiff or tired despite remaining awake in a chair all night, or the ache in his back or the sweat running down into his eyes. There was no room feeling or for thinking, there was only the fight, the foe, this man and then the next and the next and the next. And they were afraid and tired but he was not, he was alive, doing what he was born to do, and though death was all around their swords moved so slowly he could have danced through them laughing all the while.

Beside him, Bellamy could hear Hastings bellowing a Gaelic war chant. The fighting grew too muddled then to pick a single opponent: Bellamy smashed out whenever he saw a target, doing his best to navigate the confusion of a hundred separate desperate actions occurring at once. Nor was the punishment all one-sided; the lump on his head was joined by a rapidly swelling eye and a numbed jaw which might or might not be broken. He cut down the captain without pause or ceremony, then turned to help his brave men finish the clean-up operation, then his eyes narrowed in displeasure.

Another vessel was attempting the same maneuver on the opposite side of the 'Wydah'.

The first of The 'Wydah's' cannon's hammered and there was a splash of splinters on the second junk's foredeck, a deadly spray of jagged wood that killed at least three men among those who crouched there, ready to board. A ragged cheer went up from beneath the decks of the 'Wydah' but it was drowned in the crash of the Chinese rockets, four of them in broadside at point-blank range…

The smoke was parted as neatly as a drawn curtain as Bellamy came charging through it, running across the deck to the edge of his ship and then leaping, throwing himself across the intervening distance, legs still pumping as he came across as though somehow they could propel him. For a moment he seemed to hand suspended in the air between the two ships, arms outstretched, a pistol in each hand which he fired in the same moment. He didn't seem to aim them with any conscience effort, but nonetheless both took a life before he threw them aside and drew his cutlass once more as he landed, cleaving his first foe clean in two. He leapt over the downed man and wrapped his arm around another's neck, wrenching it until the vertebrae snapped. He ducked a determined strike and thrust his sword into the forehead of an attacker, then kicked another in the midsection, sending him back into his fellows and knocking them over. He slashed indiscriminately, cutting a red path of ruin across the second junk as his men finished taking the first. He moved on, in the center of a widening circle while his crew finished with the first ship. He wasn't an enemy, he was a nemesis.

None, it seemed, could touch him. Some had hand cannons and pistols, but a pistol is suddenly not the weapon you want to be holding when something like Bellamy was bearing down upon you. Bellamy scooped up a fallen sword and with a weapon in either hand laughed wordless defiance and launched himself at the nearest enemy. The man went down headless. Bellamy wasn't fighting but hacking, ducking strokes without seeing them, blocking attacks without turning his head, somehow avoiding bullets without even seeming to move.

Finally, his men joined him, and they finished the second ship as well. They slew everyone aboard both boarding ships and opened their hatches and holed their hulls, and sent them down to see old Hob, who would undoubtedly be shocked by the carnage. Only nine of his crew had met their ends in the battle, the bulk from the broadside, and the rest had suffered innumerable nicks and scratches, but nothing serious. Bellamy threw aside the second sword he'd picked up, and leaned against the mast, breathing heavily from exertion. His silk pajamas were soaked with blood, and his face throbbed painfully, but for all that he had put the fear of God, or at least the fear of 'Black Sam' Bellamy into the attackers. They would be cautious now, try to soften him up with rockets rather then dare risk another physical confrontation.

He grinned at the thought. Those things had excellent range, but little precision. If they had just rushed the ship, he'd be dead by now. "Hastings? Take the wheel. Turn Port, back around the Cape. Let them follow if they dare!" For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that this might just be salvageable.

Then he saw the 'Empress' rounding the headland, and the spark of hope died within his breast. Then he tightened his grip on his cutlass. "Belay that! Stand firm, and ready another broadside! Lets give them another taste of the Long Nines!"

[darkblade]

Yes, I am scraping the bottom of the barrel (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jake_and_the_Never_Land_Pirates). Much like the failed High School game I am taking unjustified pot shots at Disney's television line up. Maybe it's just nostalgia blinding me but I can't see shows like Darkwing Duck and Gargoyles doing well if they were made now a days if this is what gets popular.

I'm assuming that at some point Hook got serious about those kids and defeated them, killing Chubby and forcing Jake and Izzy to join his crew.

Edit: Cracklord, you have literally turned Kenway into Pirate!Aragorn. I approve despite my better judgment.

[Cracklord]

Thank you. And yes, I find myself powerless to stop this slow but sure shift in his character as I write him, more a product of the demands of the story then anything. Still, Kenway in the game has a problem, to whit, all the cool things he does are at the expense of the people who actually did them, and so if I'm going to write him actually hanging out with those people, I need to prop him up a little.

Let me explain: He has a close relationship with the two badass female pirates, necessitating Jack Rackham losing most of his credibility to make room for Kenway. He gets the big black former slave as his first mate (Black Caesar, Blackbeard's first mate and eventual successor gets edited out as a consequence), he gets a bunch of speeches that ring close to Sam Bellamy's, so it's a good thing Black Sam doesn't appear in the game either, and so on. Effectively, if you want to write him among fellow badasses he doesn't have all that much to contribute, beyond stealing credit for things they did.

So I thought I'd work with him a little, polish up the bits that work, and leave the bits that don't out of the story. And next time I give him a centric chapter I'll figure out a way to justify it.

And yes, Disney makes it's money off Nostalgia and Romanticism. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but yes, as a result a lot of what they produce isn't worth the film it's printed on.

[Corvond]

So I was wondering if I could affect a change in characters, or at least add another to the roster aboard my ship, should such a thing be acceptable. So adding to my quota of gentlemen, I add the most spectacular of them all.

A retired cavalry captain; storyteller, adventurer:

http://kumquatwriter.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/adventures-of-baron-munchausen.jpg
+ The Baron possesses a rare and wonderful power that many would erroneously call magic. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth, the power is story-telling, which is better, magic is just story-telling which had forgotten to be imaginative. It's all he needs. He can weave his own actions into narrative, and weave the narrative to allow his actions to allow rare and wonderful things to occur, things beyond imagination or expectation or any sort of logic. The only law these things obey is the laws of narrative convention, physics and common-sense don't get a say.
+ Even without the aid of the story, he can at least influence himself with the same, such as by lifting himself up by the scruff of the neck, or by riding a cannonball.
+ Irresistible to women.
+ The more active the Baron is, and the better things are going, the younger he becomes. The better the story is going, the better what he attempts tends to work out. However, disappointment makes him old.
- Death is after him, and death is a tricksy one, utilizing all a manner of skullduggery and disguise and cunning plots in an attempt to close on him, and finally kill him. If the Baron weren't so darn cunning, he'd have been seen to long past.

So how's that?

[Draxx]

Having read my share of One Piece, I could play a few of the crew if you want someone to interact with. A few ideas, Animekid:

Since Crocodile is obviously at least partly inspired by Captain Hook (what with the name, and the hook), we could change Robin's backstory, and even method of recruitment a bit to represent that. Now Robin needs to be rethought a little. For one thing, with no world government what exactly is she trying to discover through archeology? Depending on how closely Darkblade is following THE SCAR there might be a few things of interest…

With Zoro, Silver was going to recommend Soul Edge, which Darkblade mentioned earlier. Also, the greatest swordsman in the world, in this world is probably Black Bart Roberts. Given Mihawk is an expy of the man, Mihawk might even be counted amongst The Dread Pirate Robert's crew.

As for Sanji, I threw in that reference to All-Blue because Silver is a cook himself by vocation, whether he actually found it or was delirious and half mad, I'll let you be the judge of that.

Now Nami wants charts of the Grand Line. The only man to have something like that would be Sao Feng, who keeps them in his revered uncle's temple I believe.

I don't have a clue about Chopper or Ussop.

[darkblade]

Hi guys. So I've lost internet access until the 26th due to weather issues. The internet company says it'll be back but it still means there will be no updates until then. Don't worry neither the game nor I am dead.

[Cracklord]

I'm still keen to play, for my part.

However, I am helping my brother move into his girlfriends mothers house for the next few days, and will have trouble finding the time.

[darkblade]

So the phone company still hasn't come by to fix our lines. I have no idea when I'll have regular internet access again. I'm terribly sorry about this everyone.

[Cracklord]

Don't worry about it. You're worth the wait.

[ThePhantom]

Well, I can wait for this to continue just fine.

[The Tygre]

I'm cool, bro.

[Draxx]

Half the pleasure's anticipation.

[Cracklord]

So any news from Darkblade?

[AnimeKid]

Not since he site came back up from it's upgrade.

[darkblade]

I'm back. I'm going to take tonight to refresh myself on who is where and doing what and I'll resume posting tomorrow and hopefully keep the game going with a new post every day.

[ThePhantom]

Hurrah! I thought this had dropped off the face of the earth.

[Cracklord]

And there was much rejoicing! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjjZGyYcH9E)

[Draxx]

Alright, so we need a list of the people we need to appraise of this most excellent news:

The Tygre
Shnyder
Corvond
Doliest

[darkblade]

Turns out I really don't have time for dming. I apologize for raising your hopes before dashing them so thoroughly but I'm going to have to call this game dead.

[ThePhantom]

Sigh, oh well. At least Popeye has Olive back.

[Cracklord]

I'll take over, if anyone still wants to play.

[AnimeKid]

If you think you can do it. How are you with nautical games?

[Cracklord]

If you think you can do it. How are you with nautical games?

Lets find out…

[Cracklord]

Also Darkblade? Thank you for what so far has been an exceptional game. You've done a fantastic job, and I want t thank you for putting up with us like this. If you want to play when the pressures have lessened a bit, by all means feel free to do so. Any character you like.