Post by TheNebulousMysteryRider on Feb 1, 2022 12:12:48 GMT
~
Entering the peaceful port without much fanfare, a large brigate whose sails bore the insignia of a vulture skull creaked as its crew dropped anchor. Laying a plank down, four men robed in moss green vests stand aside to make way for their captain.
Making slight, calculated steps, the mysterious captain wore an unusal headress that prevented anyone from seeing his face. Gold chains hanging from his belt were a sign of his exploits, along with the dark threaded gloves that covered his arms and hands. The hilt of his sword was nothing short of fearsome as it was shaped in the form of a vulture skull.
The sight of him caused those nearby to reel back, repulsed at the mere thought of him roaming free on the seas.
Falling in line behind him, four more men joined the others in marching through the streets of this one prosperous settlement. The very buildings looked tired and worn, but this band cared only for the Governor's Palace that remained the sickiest of all.
Having been declared incompetent by the ruling crown, the previous Govenor went into hiding to avoid the angered crowds rampaging through the streets with demands for retribution. The Palace itself was now taken over by a self appointed guardsman, however, he showed no courtesy to visitors.
Leaning forward in his chair, he strokes his chin. Finally slapping his knee, he abandons all decourum and points a finger at the newcomer. "Even if you were the last nobleman alive, the Crown wouldn't think twice of even considering you! Ha!" He spits out his drink, taking another slurp from his chalice before biting into a drumstick. "You, you are a bold one, I'll give ze that! Har, har, ha! Now leave before you 'oupset me."
The Captain remained sitting across from him, ever so silent. Taken back by this, the guardsman smiles for a moment before maliciously spitting out a piece of bone in his direction. It daintly bounces off the Captain's headress, landing on the untouched plate in front of him.
Snarling, the guardsman is about to call his men, but the mysterious Captain callously rises from his seat and exits with his squad.
Now alone, the guardsman continues gorging himself. Completely unaware of the haunting vulture feather floating gently downward, resting on the seat across from him.
Entering the peaceful port without much fanfare, a large brigate whose sails bore the insignia of a vulture skull creaked as its crew dropped anchor. Laying a plank down, four men robed in moss green vests stand aside to make way for their captain.
Making slight, calculated steps, the mysterious captain wore an unusal headress that prevented anyone from seeing his face. Gold chains hanging from his belt were a sign of his exploits, along with the dark threaded gloves that covered his arms and hands. The hilt of his sword was nothing short of fearsome as it was shaped in the form of a vulture skull.
The sight of him caused those nearby to reel back, repulsed at the mere thought of him roaming free on the seas.
Falling in line behind him, four more men joined the others in marching through the streets of this one prosperous settlement. The very buildings looked tired and worn, but this band cared only for the Governor's Palace that remained the sickiest of all.
Having been declared incompetent by the ruling crown, the previous Govenor went into hiding to avoid the angered crowds rampaging through the streets with demands for retribution. The Palace itself was now taken over by a self appointed guardsman, however, he showed no courtesy to visitors.
Leaning forward in his chair, he strokes his chin. Finally slapping his knee, he abandons all decourum and points a finger at the newcomer. "Even if you were the last nobleman alive, the Crown wouldn't think twice of even considering you! Ha!" He spits out his drink, taking another slurp from his chalice before biting into a drumstick. "You, you are a bold one, I'll give ze that! Har, har, ha! Now leave before you 'oupset me."
The Captain remained sitting across from him, ever so silent. Taken back by this, the guardsman smiles for a moment before maliciously spitting out a piece of bone in his direction. It daintly bounces off the Captain's headress, landing on the untouched plate in front of him.
Snarling, the guardsman is about to call his men, but the mysterious Captain callously rises from his seat and exits with his squad.
Now alone, the guardsman continues gorging himself. Completely unaware of the haunting vulture feather floating gently downward, resting on the seat across from him.
***
On the night of a cresent moon, two French soldiers look up with wonder at the sky. In awe of the seemingly smiling light, a feeling of comfort overwhelms them.
"Surely all is peaceful here. Be ever so glad that those bands of pirates left. Hope they never return to cause trouble 'ere again."
The second Frenchman elbows him. "But what 'oupbout those fellows from today? The Govenor should not have mocked him so. He could 'upf been a great help. Whether the Crown believes this or not, the settlement here is dying."
Cries ring out from the town streets. "The Palace is on fire!"
Before the guards could react, they are hit with arrows. Grabbing his shoulder, the soldier carries his injured comrade behind the stone parapit. "Lay flat, don't move!" He crawls to the bell, narrowly missing an arrow to his leg. Below him captains roar out commands to their legions.
Standing up, the Frenchman tugs on the rope once. The bell echoes its warning.
The Pirates have returned.
Inside his conquered mansion, the guardsman frantically pushes his fellow soliders aside as flames consume the ball room. A painting of the former Govenor creaks as it falls forward, crashing in front of him. Blocked from escape, he turns to see a menacing silhouette enshrouded in flames. With a loud booming voice, it called for him.
"Didn't I'd say I'd be back Jean?"
He takes a step forward, a sharp sword point growing closer as the Guardsman wriggles back. Placing a hand in front of him, he screams. "Stay back, sTaY bAcK!"
The shadow would not here of it. "We pirates were foolish once. We forsook our petty attempts at a treaty, but now I hear a cowardly soldier of the lowest rank thought he could wriggle his way through to the Govenorship?" The shadow spat to the side. "And after all we did for him? What did we get in return? A decades worth of labor on some forsaken land, thrown in prison and forced to sleep in the filth of rats. Do you presume that fair, Jean?!"
The Guardsman whimpered. "No, Cla-aude, no." He glups.
The shadow nicked Jean's hand with his swordpoint. "Then you hold no reservations to what I will do next?"
"Oh Claude, please no." Jean's voice cracked as he wailed for mercy. The shadow smiled.
"Into the dungeons with the lot of you!"
The guardsman's head rolled back out of shock at being spared. Collapsing between two other pirates, his feet dragged on the floor as he was carried away. The golden tooth of the shadow glistened as it reflected the flames.
"Strip him of his uniform and hand him a proper tunic for a servant while yer at it. Ha Har, Ha HA!"
From afar ontop of the Crow's Nest, a figure watched on in silence the scene through his telescope. A vulture danced from one shoulder to another before becoming rigid as his owner stood upright. The gold chains on his belt jingled.
"I did warn him of what I heard on the winds. Let us see where such a life takes them, both of them."
The brigate sets sail for the sea. The eyes of the vulture ever vigilant.
