**Yes, Impending Doom, good call, I should've done that a while ago /facepalm. I'll get it up after the update.
1st, Granite, Early-Spring, 1062:
Skipper stood on the sparring deck overlooking the Bellsmaw, Imp at his shoulder. The two were prepared to follow Kalens instructions but both felt a twinge of pride at being selected to be squad leaders in the training of the new recruits.
Imp, standing supedwarvenly tall, beamed at his selection. Hypa, Istaria, Salty, Giken and Ruby were standing before him at attention. They each held a crossbow and had a quiver full of goblin bone bolts with blunted tips. He looked at them with trained eyes, watching their stance and balance as they stood on the deck, noting the directions he must take each one.
Skipper, at his left, stood a greater challenge. His selection to be squad leader had not been necessarily earned by merit, he had noted, as he was aware that every one of the older crew were handier with a weapon than he; they were just unable to participate due to lasting injuries.
In addition to his inability to summon the confidence required for his post due to the nature of his selection, Imp had been given special instructions for the new crew. He was to teach them a fighting style he knew nothing about.
Imp looked at Skipper and winked, slapping him on the back before going to take his trainees to a target in order to give them some initial pointers.
Skipper tried to fit a grin to his face but wasn't able to hold it. It didn't feel right. The trainees under him, Stabby, Akroma, Kai, Malanga, Binty, and Tiny looked upon him warily and he could tell he had his work cut out for him.
Drawing on his experiences from the time he'd spent on the ship, he reasoned that emulating Kalens behavior in the first days of the voyage would serve him well in this new venture. 'My first task,' he posited, trying to convince himself that he had become wise, 'is to get their respect.'
"Crew," Skipper announced, "How many of ye think ye know what it takes to be a proper pirate?" He let himself slip into an unfamiliar deckhand pidgin tongue, trying it out. It felt as awkward as his smile.
To his surprise, nearly every hand raised. "Uh...", he said haltingly, glancing over his shoulder at Imp, who was confidently enthralling his charges with instructions on tearing apart and repairing their weapons.
"Okay then, ye think ye'r hard, eh?" Skipper began. "You there!" He pointed at random into the crowd, "How would ye like te try'n take me on?" Visions of Kalen's lightning fast disarming of Sigurd on their first day on the deck playing in his mind, Skipper looked away, trying to act confident.
Not hearing a response, Skipper glanced back at them nervously. 'Oh no,' he thought as he saw Kai clearing the distance over the deck, his feet firmly gripping the planks as he navigated the bobbing surface with ease, 'Wait ... I can do this ...'.
Setting his feet, Skipper visualized letting Kai run into him and grappling his arm to toss him to the deck, or perhaps spinning him off towards one of Imp's charges. A moment before Kai reached him he relaxed, going over the move in a a flash, trying to look calm.
Before anyone could blink, it was over.
Well, not before ANYONE could blink. Skipper was blinking. Instead of looking down at Kai and smiling as he'd planned, he was watching the clouds drift slowly overhead. I seagull drafted the sails, hovering, while it seemed to look down at him with it's beady eyes before peeling off in disgust.
Laughter burst out on the deck. Shaking his head and starting to stand, Skipper struggled and slid back to the deck, something warm and wet under his behind. Looking down, he saw blood. 'My blood,' he thought, sighing, 'great.'
Skipper looked over and saw the Imp gaining order amongst his trainees, quickly commanding them to stop laughing, the sound of his voice hard as steel. Giving Skipper a plaintive glance, Imp gestured his head towards the other trainees, signaling that they were not under his charge and thus he would be out of line to try and quell their laughter.
Skipper, thinking quickly, began laughing. Another awkward, forced maneuver, but he saw a path and tried to follow it.
"HA HA! See that, crew?" Skipper said haughtily, propping himself up on one elbow.
"He didn't even KILL me!"
Forcing another laugh, Skipper saw that the crew had indeed stopped laughing. They looked down on him with a mixture of pity and confusion, but he mistook it for a sign of respect. Judging dwarves emotions had never been Skippers strong suit.
'Perfect, I can do this ...' he thought.
Kai, standing over him, offered him a hand.
Skipper waved him off in an attempt to gain control from the prone position, not wanting to look as though he needed assistance.
"Now that I've shown you all how INEPT you are," Skipper barked forcefully, "Why don't you all begin with some wrestling matches. We'll give ye weapons if ye prove ye' can do any more harm than this pathetic waif," he shouted, gesturing up at Kai.
Imp, looking away from his instructions, shook his head silently.
As the slaps and thuds of dwarf meat rolling around on the deck above echoed out across the waves, Imp set his lads up to begin firing.
"Now," he said calmly, "Who do you think ye'll be shooting at from up in the crow's nest, then?"
Hypa barely let him complete his sentence, "GOBLINS!" She hopped up to her feet with a snarl, striking a menacing pose.
Imp had predicted this reaction and walked over to her swiftly, "THAT TARGET IS A GOBLIN SHOOT IT NOW!" he shouted into her ear.
Hypa fumbled with the crossbow, bringing it up, plinking off a shot.
The bolt whizzed harmlessly off the ship, disappearing into the waves below.
Imp's trainees looked amused. He turned to them and gave them an icy glare. "Tiny!" Tiny stood up, just inches below where the bolt had passed over his head, glaring at Hypa, holding his chunk of flesh like a bludgeon.
"YE NEARLY KILLED ME!" He shouted, furious.
Imp turned to Hypa, now looking down at the deck, knocking her toes together.
"Who did ye just shoot at, then, lass?"
"Tiny?", she asked hesitantly.
"Aye. Thankfully, ye missed both Tiny AND the goblin." Urging Hypa to take a seat back down on the planks, Imp turned to his dwarves. "When ye are up on that nest," he said, pointing skyward, eying each dwarf slowly, "ye will not be shootin' merely at goblins. Ye will be firing inches over the heads of your mates, and a hasty shot will do just as much damage to a dwarf as a goblin."
Pacing, Imp recanted his instructions from Kalen, "We are not here just to learn to place bolts in goblins, but to place them safely over the shoulders of our mates whilst they are in battle! These lads," he said, waving at Skippers crew rolling around the deck, biting and scratching at each other harmlessly, "will remain up here, sparring with us, for the duration of your training. Ye will learn to shoot in the heat of battle, though simulated, I want ye to remember what mistake Hypa has just made. Now, grab your crossbows and let's at it, and the first one o' you to strike dwarven flesh will be going back after the bolt Hypa just fired overboard."
Skipper watched in awe, imagining the ability to give such masterful instructions while holding a calm and collected demeanor. Mentally, he noted everything, from Imp's casual stance to his prepared and masterfully executed rebukes.
Thunks began to ring out as bolts whizzed over the dwarven heads roiling about on the sparring deck, crashing over one another like waves on the jagged rocks. The sounds of screams, creaking wood, and battle cries filtered down into the captains chambers two floors below.
Kalen stood with Fishgut, eye to eyes. "Okay then," she said calmly, "It's settled. Go and fetch Professor, Duncana, Q-Tip and Sigurd and do not tarry with the rest of the crew. This contract is to remain with us and, as we've decided, to our bloody graves."
Fishgut Led nodded and left her, the word 'contract' ringing harshly in his ears. He'd learned over the past year to deal with being a subordinate male in an unequal relationship, but his love for Kalen was unwavering. She'd given him everything he'd ever wanted and more, and now, was about to give something he'd never thought to expect from her.
Whispering into the ears of the dwarves he was sent out to contact, they each slowly and calmly began making their way up to the captains quarters, shifting inside silently. Q-Tip looked bewildered at the Captain's orders, but, she was too overjoyed to say anything. She merely looked upon Kalen's stoic face, her one eye glassed over and emotionless. 'How can she go through with this,' Q-Tip pondered, knowing Kalen to be made of nothing but steel and battle, 'how can she even possibly love enough?'
When Sigurd entered, The Professor on his heels, Q-Tip smiled broadly, her chest heaving. Her breasts were still strapped down, a callous order from a Captain she was only slowly learning to understand.
"Captain," Imp's voice rang out, as his footsteps thudded towards them from the deck below.
"Seat yourselves and look busy," Kalen ordered quietly before turning to the door, "Aye, mate?"
Imp popped open the door and peeked his head in, looking around, confused. The Professor, Duncana, Sigurd, Q-Tip and Fishgut were seated at nearby tables. Something looked wrong, but Imp swallowed his questions. He'd been trusted by the Captain enough to lead a squad, surely she would tell him if anything was amiss.
"Trainin's good Cap," he started, "but Istaria spotted something on a nearby island ... Kobolds rifling through the stocks we tossed overboard."
Kalen nodded. They'd been at sea for only a day and the island they'd been harvesting wood from was still not far off in the horizon. She'd ordered some less necessary supplies be tossed overboard in order to make room for their new crew, but had noted that they might return for it. A lie, of course; she believed they would not return from their journey at all, let alone to some woe begotten goblin filled piss pot like that one.
"Let them have it, we've bigger things to attend to. See that the lads are watched closely, I don't want to see anybody coming down with a bolt through the head, eh?"
Imp nodded, giving his mates another glance before closing the door and heading back out.
Kalen gestured at Professor to stand, in order to begin the ceremonies.
Little was said in the chambers, save for the required and traditional bits. As the thuds and thunks rang out above them, and as the Kobolds rifled through their previous belongings, the gathered crew began a solemn and secret task.
Kalen officiated the bonding of Duncana and The Professor, crassly reading off the note card Professor had prepared. His days in the temple of blight had burned the marriage ceremony into his mind, and his faith was chosen as the proper one to bind the souls of pirates sailing to an uncertain future.
After Duncana and Professor shared a brief kiss, looking into each others eyes a moment, their hands meeting to touch the Ashen rings slipped over each others fingers, Kalen cleared her throat and gestured for Fishgut Led to stand beside her.
The Professor, leaving Duncana to a seat, officiated over the next two bondings.
Kalen stared at him as he recited the oaths. 'No, not at me,' Professor noted, rattling off the memorized speech, 'through me.'
Fishgut was obviously filled with joy and pride as his greedy lips met Kalen's icy embrace, a modest and short acquaintance. Kalen's spine stiffened at the thought of any of her crew baring witness to her intimacy, but she knew it was a required part of the ceremony, and hoped that her participation would further grow a bond between them.
As Fishgut and Kalen went to sit, Q-Tip hopped up eagerly and extended her hand to the big viking. "C'mon, ye lug, let's do this. In battle, in bed, and in peace, we are ready."
Sigurd slowly rose. The lumbering viking, still clothed in his stripped and battle scarred leather and fur, reluctantly set his axe down at his chair, his fingertips loathe to leave it's comforting grasp.
During the officiations Sigurd left not one of his traditional viking prayers unsaid, under his breath, respectfully. Q-Tip was practically bouncing, her hand tightly grasped around his. As much of his as she could manage, her little paw a speck under his meaty fingers.
Sigurd swallowed his pride and looked down at Q-Tip. He recalled vividly his hastiness to impress the captain and the horrible wounds he'd inflicted on the young lass in the process. His brain, slowly chewing over ever detail of their past relationship, finally settled to the task at hand. He would not wed her out of pity or remorse or a sense of debt; he truly did love this lass. She reminded him of his mother, in many ways. Like Q-Tip, Sigurd's mother had not been a viking by birth, though her family would never admit it.
Lowering his proud visage, imagining his father holding a similar secret ceremony, he met Q-Tip's eyes firmly and gave her a willing and genuine smile. 'Viking way not pure,' he thought. His mind moved slowly, but it moved with the slow deliberate pace of a mule on a guide, never faltering, testing each step and ensuring its individual wisdom before proceeding. 'Viking way', he continued, 'fraught with death and destruction. Life short,' he thought, remembering his fathers guttural words of wisdom imparted upon him when he'd left his tribe to earn his chops, 'Viking hard,' he thought, his mind slowly and surely plodding down the path through his fathers words as he gently gripped Q-Tip's soft hand, 'Without softness is no hardness, without coolness is no fire."
The Professor, aware that he was being ignored by the two he was marrying, hurried a bit, skipping to the good part.
"By the mistress of death and under her watchful gaze, ye two embark on a journey to the grave. Rot, pestilence and famine be yours, together ye shall hold it, forever and more." He placed his hand over theirs, entwined, and urged them to finish the ceremony. Stooping low, Sigurd kissed the perky Q-Tip's lips softly, her upturned nose disappearing under his mountainous nostrils and swirling tendrils of braided beard.
Kalen stood swiftly, "Good work Professor," she started, cutting short Q-Tip's long awaited moment of official intimacy, "but we must return to the ship before the crew becomes suspicious. Speak of this to no-one. There is no place for love on a pirate ship, and we have all, together, broken a prime rule. Surely we will suffer from this," she continued, "but the decision was made and the act is completed. Now, we must carry on."
The crew filtered out of her quarters, Fishgut leaving last, looking over his shoulder to give her a smile.
Kalen brought up her hand hesitantly, "Led," she said, her voice strong but her eye showing the softness he'd come to crave, "give Tiny your bunk, the crew know of you and I and will not be suspicious. There's plenty room in here for the both of us."
"Aye, Kale-- Captain," Led corrected himself before closing the door, an earth shattering grin cracked across his face.
Kalen sighed as they left, uncertain about the future of the ship. Perhaps it was not worth it. A risk, to be sure. 'Bah,' she reasoned, 'Risks be damned. We breath risk every time we come on the deck. Life, particularly the lives of those on this ship, are short,' she thought, remembering Bob and Boucher fondly, saddened that the two lovers had never been given a chance to perform the ceremony. 'We've no choice but to continue.'
Kalen sat at her desk and began writing in her journal, distracted and pleased by the sounds of pain and combat playing out over her head.
[ March 20, 2008: Message edited by: valcon ]
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Topic: Pirates of the Fondled Waters (Community Pirate Ship) (Read 72351 times)