forum Ship of Monsters // Pirates // OxO // Closed

Started April 21, 2021 by @ElderGod-Icefire

tune

"They tell stories, you know. Of a ship with tattered black sails, without a flag. Of an unnatural captain. They say that the crew are damned. That to see the ship spells your own doom. They say that the ship is a ghost, that vanishes into thin air."
"And you believe these stories?"
"Of course not."

It is the year 1715. For hundreds of years, there have been stories of a ghostly ship with tattered black sails. A ship that appears in the fog and vanishes with the mist, there and gone again. They say it is crewed by monsters, that the captain is a wizened, cruel, hideous old beast. That the souls of the crew are damned, cursed to serve their captain for all eternity.

The stories are not wrong. But nor are they right, either. The captain can be a difficult man, yes, but he is not cruel. As for being a monster…he was just as human as anyone else, once. It is true, yes, that the crew are spelled and perhaps cursed, that in the nighttime, they turn into monstrous versions of themselves.

The ship's name is the Praesidium, and while most who know of it would say it's purpose is to destroy, that is not what they are here for. But what they really do, no one knows.

The premise of the RP: Your character's ship was destroyed, and your character is found by the Praesidium, and brought aboard. However, they are mostly kept confined to their cabin, and are not told why. Something is happening, and the captain is keeping some rather large secrets from them. But what?

Basically, historical mystery ghost story, and also your character falls in love with the captain, and he in turn falls in love with your character. I don't want to explain too much or it'll spoil the story/mystery

Rules:

• andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s rules apply
• 16+ just because it makes me more comfy
• LGBTQ characters are welcome and loved
• There may/will be: blood, abuse/references to, drinking (duh it's the 1700's and pirates, the fuck do you expect lmao), and other potential triggers. Please proceed with caution
• Smut will be taken to PMs
• Your character is a normal human, without any magic or curses on them
• I reserve the right to say no

(so basically, your character's ship sank during the night, and they're clinging to wreckage/in a lifeboat or whatever, and then Kylie or someone from the ship is going to spot them)

Tonight had been a stormy one, and a dense rain was still falling from the heavens, drenching everyone and everything. The Praesidium was fine. Sure, it's inhabitants were drenched whenever they stepped out, but that didn't matter in the long run.

The sun had dawned nearly an hour ago, though its effect on the light level was negligible. The only real difference was that the crew was in their human forms, only a few traces of the more monstrous forms remaining.

The captain, Kylie Bell, was the most human of all of them, both in monster form and outside of it. The only trace of monstrosity that remained was slightly sharper canines and pupils that were faintly elongated. Other than that, he looked perfectly human. He was about 5'11", with a slim body. He had reddish brown hair that edged on gold in certain lights. Perhaps the strangest thing about him were his eyes, which were of a very pale golden tone. His skin was tanned from exposure to the sun, and he wore a loose white shirt over dark trousers, with a brown jacket thrown over top. He was, of course, drenched, and his hair was hanging into his forehead. He braced one hand against the railing of the deck, sighing faintly as he looked out at the rain, squinting. Even he could hardly see anything in this downpour.

(oke doke!)

The Wenslydale did not fare half as well as a ghost ship could in the midst of murderous winds and pelting rain. It started with the beams groaning beneath their feet. Then a chorus of panicked shouts as the waves lapped over the edge. The rest had been a blur, a cacophony of sounds, blood rushing in his ears and the futile attempts of the captain to shout orders above the winds. No one was listening to orders when the ship started to careen towards a sea stack. The Wenslydale never did land on the coast it was meant to, at least, not as a whole.

Some men were lucky enough to make it to the life boats. Some weren't. And some clung to parts of the wreckage keeping afloat. Jacobe MacGregor was lucky, but not enough for one of the boats. With any less fortune he might have swallowed more water than he had, or succumbed to the waves. Though it seemed whatever had the power of offering fortune smiled down on him like the concealed sun cresting above the horizon.

Straddling a waterlogged piece of lumber, he laid on his stomach, cheek pressed against the splintered wood. His clothes–a tattered, gray, tapered-collar shirt tucked into black breeches–were drenched and clinging to his taupe skin. A scarf practically holding on by a thread around his neck. His bare arms, one covered with a sleeve of tattoos, drifted in the water, and his dark hair–most of it–lashed with a leather tie high up his head, floating behind. He was awake, but didn't dare open his eyes yet, bobbing in time with the waves.

"Captain! Wreckage!" Came the cry from the crow's nest, and Kylie stifled a groan. Wrecks were the one thing he hated the most. He always had to pick up survivors and put them ashore, but it was hell. Hell to keep the secret of his crew, to try and stifle the natural curiousity of any survivors.

"Anyone in the water?" He called back, heading to the railing and peering down into the water. At least the sun was up and he wouldn't have to rescue anyone while looking like a monster, a creature from nightmare. At least his crew looked normal, for now.

The rest of his crew came to the railing, peering over the side as they assisted. It was part of their curse. If they found a wreck, they were bound to help. If they didn't…the consequences wouldn't be any good. For any of them.

"Ahoy!" Kylie bellowed. Survivors, he reasoned, would shout back if they heard him.

Jacobe blinked his eyes open gradually. Slowly at first, squinting against the rain, until he was certain of what he heard. A human voice, he wondered, but pushed the thought aside. The chances were slim that a ship had just happened to pass by him, just a small speck in the ocean. The voice was a ghost maybe, an angel. And yet…

He heard something else, waves crashing against wood. Followed by a massive black shape in the distance. A silhouette behind the sheet of rain. He felt a flicker of hope in his chest, that maybe a ship had come to rescue him. Or that some supernatural force had come to relieve him of his earthly pain. He lifted his head, pushing against the plank to let as much air as he could muster gather into his burning lungs. Such efforts were difficult with a nail lodged in his side. “A-hoy!” Jacobe cried back, voice broken and strained.

Kylie thought he herd the edge of a cry, and turned his gaze to Eleanor, his second mate and the person with the sharpest ears. She had her head cocked, her eyes distant as she considered where the voice had come from.

"To starboard!" She pointed, dark hair bound back in a ponytail. As far as Kylie knew, one of her parents had been asian, and had passed on their looks to their daughter, who had sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and thick, straight dark hair. Eleanor had been aboard for, technically, longer than Kylie had, and was a good friend.

Kylie called out to Jethro, his first mate. "See anyone?" Jethro had sharp eyes, and while Kylie's were just as sharp, he figured another pair couldn't hurt anything. Jethro had shaved his head and kept it that way, tattoos littering his dark skin.

"Not sure of anything yet, Captain. But we'll find this survivor." Jethro replied, gaze flashing over the water. A few minutes longer, and Jethro pointed to a dark shape in the murky water, as the rain pounded down around them. "There. Either a body or a survivor."

"I'll go." Kylie replied, grabbing one of the lines and securing it to the mast, then to his waist, tying it tightly and glancing at Jethro. "You and Crusher feed it down, so I don't smack into the water."

Jethro nodded, waving over the tall, aptly named Crusher to assist in lowering Kylie to the water.

Jacobe squinted at the mass moving towards him. Closer, then closer until he started to panic that he hadn’t really been seen and he would be swept under hull. He didn’t have much energy to care either way. He wrapped his arms tighter around the wooden beam, if not for stability, then just for a sliver of comfort. Or at least however much comfort one could get the inanimate remnants of a ship that housed his most cursed memories.
The only comfort that truly soothed his soul was that he watched as his captain was swept under the violent waves. Perhaps his demise was the same as Jacobe’s—clingingly helplessly onto a waterlogged piece of wood. Or worse.
He lifted his head when another movement caught his eye, something hanging from the approaching ship.
“Ahoy!” He yelled again. His chin lifted to hover just above the wood, a feeble attempt to convince whoever it was that he was more than a dead body. Not much more than one, but just enough.

Kylie was lowered down the side of the ship, gripping the rope in his hands and his feet braced against the side of the pitching ship as it rolled in the waves. "Drop!" He bellowed, then dropped the last ten feet, coming up spluttering as he kicked his way towards the board. A human man would not have survived these waters, but then, Kylie was no longer quite human. He pushed an arm up onto the board, looking at the figure on it. "Are you alive?" He questioned, reaching to touch the person's shoulder. He felt the rope around his waist pull tight again as Jethro and Crusher collected all the slack in the line.

Jacobe had closed his eyes for a moment longer, half convincing himself that all this was some supernatural dream entering him into the afterlife—until he actually felt the touch to his shoulder. He startled awake, slowly blinking at the man holding onto his board. “I…yes,” he groaned in reply. So this was real. He was alive and someone was bringing him back from hell. “Thank gods,” he shuddered, using the rest of his meager energy to try and shift closer to his rescuer. “I thought…I thought—“ he trailed off for the lack of words. That and he was shivering too violently to even think straight let alone form a coherent sentence. Half dead and floating amidst murderous waves.

Kylie nodded a little, spitting out water from a wave that had rolled over them. "Hush. We can talk later, alright?" he said. "Can I lift you off of that board to bring you onto the ship?" he didn't know if this person was injured or not, and didn't want to risk further injuring him if he was. "What is your name?" a name would be a good way to help keep this person focused.

The waterlogged man bobbed his head weakly in response to Kylie’s first two questions. Jacobe himself wasn’t entirely sure how injured he was—his whole body ached the same, no joint or bruise paining him no more than any other. “Jacobe,” he said in between shivers, “M-MacGregor. It-it’s Officer Jacobe…MacGregor.” Not a very esteemed title, but it had been practically branded onto him since he joined the Royal navy. State your name and rank. A constant no matter the situation, it was almost comforting in a way.

Kylie nodded a little bit, and gently pulled Jacobe from the plank, his arms wrapped securely around him. "Pull us up!" He bellowed, and grunted faintly as e felt Crusher and Jethro begin to pull him back up. He braced his feet against the side of the ship, careful not to rub either his own skin or Jacobe's against the rough, splintery wood.

Jacobe clutched onto Kylie as tightly and desperately as he had been clinging to the board. He stiffened in the man’s arms, trembling both out of fear for falling now, and still the cold. Instinct urged him to press closer against his rescuer who, while not necessarily warm, felt to be less frozen than himself. And the simple human interaction—that was nice too.
His vision fazed in and out of focus as they neared the ship railing. After that he wasn’t aware of the precise point he lost consciousness.

Kylie carried the other man into his own cabin, working with Jethro to strip him of the wet clothing, dry him off, and get him dressed again, then tucked him into the bed to rest. They also treated any wounds they discovered, and Kylie dismissed Jethro once they were done. The captain took a seat after checking the light level. They still had hours before sunset, thankfully, so hopefully Jacobe would awaken before then. Once the sun went down Kylie would have to lock him in this cabin so he didn't see any of them in their more…monstrous forms.

Apparently Jacobe was a lucky man, in this case at least. His worst injuries were mostly superficial, with the exception of a dislocated shoulder and a shallow puncture wound in his abdomen. His history didn’t seem so fortunate, however, given the scars crossing his back. The mostly-healed shadows of a whip gifted by a captain likely hours dead by now.

Jacobe woke up almost an hour after he’d been put into bed. His eyes flickered open gradually, slowly taking in his surroundings. He looked around the cabin with a haze of confusion until his attention finally landed on Kylie. He startled more awake, attempted to push himself up, and grimaced when his injuries wouldn’t let him move much more than his head. “What…where am I?”

Kylie and Jethro had reset his shoulder while he slept, and Kylie looked up from the book he had been reading. "Oh. Hello. You're aboard my ship, the Praesidium." He replied, closing the book and setting it aside. "There are approximately six hours until sunset." He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a soft faint breath. "My name is Kylie Bell, and I'm the captain of this vessel. I expect you'll meet some of my crew eventually, though not at this moment in time."

Jacobe gingerly prodded at his sore shoulder. It felt massively better than he remembered, but it still hurt to try and use. He looked back up at the captain, frowning slightly before he averted his gaze again. The memories were coming back to him in small bits at a time. They distracted him. “My ship sank,” he said lowly. “Did you find any of my shipmates too?”

Kylie shook his head. "No. My crew has been looking, but we've only found wreckage and…bodies. We did not bring the bodies aboard as I have no wish to risk lives for the dead. I am sorry." He looked at Jacobe. "I…hope there was no one too special to you aboard, as cruel as that may sound. I don't think there were any other survivors." His eyes were careful, and sympathetic. Gentle. "As such, I can take you and drop you off wherever you would like to be dropped off."