forum "Bloodstained Gold" (Pirate Group RP) {Closed}

Started August 25, 2022 by @ScotchTapeWorm group

tune

The Captain frowned at Inez's refusal, but he eventually grinned again. He had a fuzzy memory of how the girl came aboard and she was certainly not sober. Perhaps she didn't want to make another decision like that without her full faculties. Maybe she just didn't want any alcohol right now, it didn't really matter. The tall man sighed dramatically, pouring himself his own glass of what was in the container, taking a sip and grimacing. Continuing to pull a face, he took another sip, why did people make fruit wine anymore? It was disgustingly sweet. He'd only picked it out because Inez was a girl and the Siren looked soft, but that had backfired.

Stuck drinking the wine, Axel settled back into his chair, lounging carefully. He let a silence linger for a while, before he looked hard at the two. Kavo and the goblin were upstairs and Inez was here for.. What? To apologize? His eyes darkened, his thoughts clicking together. Ah. The Siren. Was she frightened for the thing? How touching. Silver-Tongue lost a bit of mirth, his smile twitching uncomfortably.

"Inez. Tell the day crew to go back to bed, and tell Kavo to show the goblin where to sleep." Another sip, another grimace. "I need to have a conversation with our.. Friend, here. You're dismissed." It was odd speaking without his "pirate" accent, damn that witch. He masked his thoughts, raising a hand to rest his chin thoughtfully on, he looked almost regal. A king in his castle, giving out commands, and why shouldn't he? This was his ship, his crew, his sea.

Violet eyes moved to the Siren and a million thoughts lurked behind those eyes.

Run Maria! Run, they’re going to take your wings away!

Juan ran the scenes over and over again in his head, pounding head, something trying to escape like a tiger in a cage. Head close to exploding. He clawed overgrown nails like talons to his temples, ripping out feathers and the skin beneath and chipping off nails with it. He didn’t know where he was, not in this exile. Not in this hell. Fortunately, where his little boat had crashed seemed deserted, and his mechanical wings weren’t even very rusted, but the tarp between the metal bones was torn and would need repairing. He flexed the wings where they attached to his stubs, and stood up from where he’d lain, breathless, for the last six hours.

Juan fell. He’d forgotten that ever since pissing off some of the islanders on one of the other hunks of rock around here, he’d had to deal with a bum leg. That’s why he was here. Memory was a tricky thing these days. It escaped, like a leaky bucket trying to hold water. That’s the worst part of living too long. Forgetting. Well, Juan should still look for food. Yes, that’s what he should do. He eventually managed to balance his weight and dizziness and bad leg and in order to walk a little ways towards the shore.

Crabs had gathered in masses along the shoreline, and Juan knew seafood was the best food on an island. Not like a seed-eating dove like him should really be putting more strain on his digestive system than usual with meat, but he’d have less emptiness and ache in there anyways. His wings dragged in the sand. Juan sat down in one big humph of movement. He grabbed the nearest crab by the claws and smashed it into the other nearest crab, breaking open both of their shells.

Not a single other crustacean or creature seemed to notice. Food was food even when you were some sort facultative herbivore-not-carnivore, so Juan ate. Raw crab, gross. Food is food, Juan repeated to himself, food is good is food. Maria would have said something like that. Juan, in an instant, hated her guts just as much as he wanted to rip them out and use them as a necklace. She left him. Maybe she was right to leave him. Anyone would be. Self loathing and pity were not typically a good style but he was hungry and this crab was absolutely not filling any aching chasms. Juan was the first person to acknowledge he wasn’t quite stable, but this seemed too far.

Night fell as quickly as daylight rose, and Juan eventually realized he’d been sitting too long. Night was when cats hunted birds hunted mice, and shelter was a must. A quick look around confirmed that nothing was left of his little dinghy. He didn’t remember why he’d had one of those in the first place, but then again he did and then the islanders came at him and tried to set him on fire goodness me, that was exhausting.

If he didn’t find shelter soon, or something to light a fire with even, he’d die. Possibly finding a water source to cool off. Crabs didn’t help anything, they’d left hours more ago. How long had he been here? Dehydration also did funny things to memory. Usually hunger and thirst sent Juan from spiraling to becoming The Spiral. So that was something he needed to take care of.

As suddenly as he’d had that thought he noticed he was in front of a fire in a ramshackle hut that must have taken days to construct even if it could barely be counted as shelter at all. What had happened between those times was only something Juan could guess.

But the fire was nice, and there was a nice supply of edible berries and greens and seeds. It was nice. Juan was sure he could figure out how he’d gotten to this point, but the seagrass mat he’d been sitting on looked so nice to sleep on and in an instant he was transported to where he was creating a raft, with blueprints etched into a rock.

Damn. No time to waste then, keep building the raft. Was there something he was missing? Why did he keep going from sunrise to set with no idea how? From beach to house to raft, standing on a leg that seemed to be healing up well. Oh, right. Medicine. He’d no idea where any of that was. The only thing keeping the thin line holding his brain cells together was gone, stolen from him last he checked, and with nothing to replace it here. Some sort of chemical found in citrus fruits, made his brain right. Something he’d codified into a tablet, one a day and he was his own doctor so no need to keep the doctor away.

If this kept up, he’d be on practically autopilot. Juan didn’t want to live life that way, in a dissociative state where if he was ever caught he’d end up getting himself killed or worse. Worse being killing someone else without even knowing the cause or if there was a cause. Yes, once again, mentally unstable.

The raft had sunk. Something in him had taken it out in the middle of a storm, hammering in the need to get back to normal and fast. Juan hoped he’d get out of here soon, or find something to replace his precious tablets no matter how advanced or crude that something would be. Managing insanity was an interesting task.

(Managed to run a simple one paragraph response into an incoherent mess. I hope you’re hungry for nothing or whatever the meme is these days?)

The last day or so had seen the Deceit continuing on its journey towards Harpsford Bay. The archipelago that held the cove was full of islands both charted and uncharted, and Kavo had been busy the last few hours, navigating the ship through the channels between islands.
The excitement the day previous had finally petered out. The Captain had handled things with the Siren, and Pyria was adjusting quickly. Or biding her time, Kavo wasn't sure.
The islands had many interesting quirks; whirlpools, cannibals, quicksand beaches, and one was populated entirely by cryptids. Anyone trying to get to Harpsford Bay had to make it past the maze of hazards, and Kavo was enjoying the task he'd been set.
The Deceit came around the corner of a smaller island, and Kavo could see the beach. This one was littered with the remnants of someone living there, who wasn't used to the island. Or a new hazard he'd need to avoid. He wasn't sure which, so he slowed, just slightly, trying to get a good look.

(Lol, no seriously though. First things first: I've read through a couple of Vimes' stuff, not very much, and couldn't remember. I just went back and checked, and GOD DAMN. I wish we'd had them sooner.)

(Omg thanks!)

Juan was wandering the beach in a haze of fogginess and determination all at once. Ultimately, he was in a bit of trouble. The storm had ruined all his supplies and he’d been starting from scratch for the past few weeks. But when his madness-addled brain noticed a ship in the distance… well. Everything in his body told him to go towards it, that seeking shelter here in storm season was futile but seeking shelter while the seas were calm in a ship that could possibly provide it was useful. Possibly lifesaving, although Juan wasn’t sure he was at the point he could be saved. He waded out into the water and let out a screech only an Avant could, the type of Eagle’s call that could shatter eardrums if desired.