literature

Canon killing Cannons- Piracy

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DarthVengeance0325's avatar
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Literature Text

He was as concealing as the fog at sea, as treacherous as sanded reefs, as fluid in motion as the rippling of the ocean waves, and as dangerous as the Typhoon. He was as lecherous as he was treacherous, and as larcenous as he was cryptic and callously capricious. He was a predator to the rotten core of him, and slime more surely spilled and spoiled in his veins than red hearty blood.

Or so the stories say.

In a world where order for the larger part reigns, where the needs of the Races are recognized and tended, where the worst of criminals may become of use and even the Orcs may learn to be civilized, what is the greatest and most ever present threat?

Said criminals, of course. Profit, power, freedom, revenge, these things drive some of the most gifted and the most lethal or cunning into opposing the Laws of the World Government. Perhaps they're born in the some twelve or so percent of the world uncontrolled by the beforementioned entity. Perhaps they have a bone to pick. Perhaps they find it fun.

He, the he in question, was one of the worst in moral fiber and the greatest in reputation and skill, as were his crew. Every last man of them were pirates, many of whom defied the explanations of the sane with the MultiVerse or time paradox to explain their simultaneous presence on the same vessel. They didn't care.

There was James, the First Mate and a fierce fighter both of drunken crew and actual foes. James dressed in the manner of a gentleman, and deigned himself a 'gentleman-of-fortune' in his resplendent scarlet Officer's uniform- pilfered from a Elven Naval force and ever growing redder in the Powrie dying methods. James was once known for his finesse with a pair of cutlass blades and for having a devastating right hook in hand to hand combat. Now the black haired and mustachioed man has… a different sort of devastating right hook, for which his legends and his new surname have been given.

James Hooke and his square jaw would go on to get trapped on a magic island getting sliced to callops for eternity by a bunch of snotnosed children later in his life, alongside the ship he at that point captained and its crew. But at least he was no longer ravishing maidens and ravaging lands on Terra.

There was "Cooky" "Barbecue" Silver and his "Long Johns". Silver was the Quartermaster, provisions officer, and chef throughout the voyages. Not a man alive could best him at baking in a tempest or at satisfying mutineers with honeyed drink and word… and if there was one, Silver probably killed him. Cripple or not, the sinister master Mr. John was quite good at combat, manipulation, and turning a profit from a disaster.

He was rumored to have learned from the cannibal who ate his leg shortly before he made a pie to celebrate his survival. The cannibal, frankly, was not one of the ones eating the pie, but he was involved deeply in the process. Silver claimed to have lost the leg in a naval combat to anyone who asked, and, like ever, could regale a hearty detailed tale in moments about it.

Silver was a plainer fellow in looks and clothing than James, brown of hair and disarmingly harmless and charming with his crutch and smile.

Wiley old Willy, born with only one eye, was their appraiser, treasurer, and for many of the more poor crew members, loan shark for those little sprees through the harbor. He decided what was worth what and who received what in payment. One eyed Willy never left a debt unsettled, particularly the non-monetary kind.

Willy lavished himself with hard earned gifts, but the raven haired man never grew quite as ostentatious as the larger and more opportunistic First Mate.

Claw, a large lithe feline, was the ordnance and gunnery officer on deck. One would assume a bipedal cat would avoid the spraying ocean and the loud havoc of explosions and cannons like nobody's business, but one would assume wrong. No one was entirely certain how he utilized blades or pistols without thumbs or managed speech with mangled mangy maw, and neither Claw nor his now deceased boot clad brother Puss revealed a word.

The Captain was none of these. He, monster mentioned in the first paragraph, was greater still. Before him, Greats like Roger, Vanderdeckan, and 'Beard fell. The devil himself called him scum.

Captain Flint, the darkest, and oddly least dramatized or utilized, pirate in fictional histories or legend.

By guile, by intellect, by force of will and overwhelming personal force he drove and united his crew into killers of cities and nations, plunderers of the hoards of hordes, and vicious vibrant violent legends when finally they left him. He left loot and plunder hidden across every world of every story ever told, hidden till the day 'tis found. And Flint left more, too-

He left the grieving lovers and mothers and others on the sands. He left legacies swathed in rage and rancid fury. He left monsters that outgrew him-

But it's back to the roots and the ship we go.
Shush. I'll complete other story arcs when the Pot lets me. :S

I'mmmm off to my shame corner. ... *flee*
© 2011 - 2024 DarthVengeance0325
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SithLordNergal's avatar
Why in the Infinite Levels of the Abyss would you flee to a shame corner? I think you've just made the coolest group of pirates I've seen or heard of in a long time.