IC: Edge Of The Blade (Pirates)

Chante Aideen woke with a start, bed sheets tangled around her body, her skin covered in a cold sweat, and her heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears. Ye gods!, she thought, flopping back down in her bed Every time she woke like this there was only one cause. A nightmare. A nightmare she kept to herself, a reoccurring memory she tried to burn from her mind. Obviously, she had been unsuccessful. Her childhood was anything but glorious, homeless from the time she could walk, taken in by a woman who used ale to numb her own pain, abusive, strong and the only thing closest to a blood relative she had. She could feel the wenches’ cold grip around her neck even now. Closing her eyes tight, she pulled tattered sheets over her head.

She wasn’t there anymore, she was here aboard Hades’ Gold. With Captain Davik Reinhardtand his crew. A sinful smile curled her lips when she thought of her captain. Before she slept, her mind wandered into thoughts that would make even the most loose of women blush a scarlet red. Rolling over onto her side, as to not wake anyone she hadn’t already stirred in her bunk. A surefire cure for nightmare was a naughty replacement with Captain Reinhardtand. His hunger for women never failed to make her want to wipe out the entire female population, every night he took another to his bed, a beaming whore and even a few noble women looking for a thrill. If that wasn’t enough she could have sworn he knew how she felt about it, he just chose to torture her.

It was official she was not going to get any sleep tonight.

Flinging her legs over the small bed, she lifted herself to her feet, tiptoeing over sleep or drunk – she couldn’t always tell the difference crewmen. Pushing her door open a cool breeze welcomed her, lifting her dark hair over her right eye. Out of an old habit, she brushed her hair back over her eye, covering the thin scar she hid. Stepping out onto the main deck, she could see their destination a few moments ahead.

“Haiti…” She whispered with a smile. The sun was rising and the main deck was disturbingly empty. She loved being alone up here, just herself and the turquoise waters below Hades’ Gold. Resting her hands on it’s edge she breathed in the fresh air, filling her lungs with the fresh sea air. God, she loved being here aboard Hades’ Gold. It was freedom, pure uninhibited freedom something she had longed for, for years. Tilting her head back, she allowed the rising sun to kiss her dark exquisite features. When alone, she often acted like a pagan goddess, worshipping the dawn. Silly? Perhaps. But no one was watching. She was wearing a sleeveless tattered shirt this morning. She had cut the sleeves off; it was far to hot to wear clothing that covered her up from head to toe. It was different from what she normally wore, anything oversized that didn’t reveal her features as much. It was something soft and silky that clung to her rounded breasts with devoted attention to detail. She gently cupped her ribcage now, driving her taunt nipples against the thin fabric.

Yawning she straightened herself and placed her hands back over the edge. Slipping away from her moment of pleasure her body shook with excitement. It had been a while since anything of interest happened to them. Haiti was their target and nobody was going to stop them. Was it so wrong for her to take pleasure in the suffering of others?

Johnathan Reiger

Johnathan was sleeping in his hut, peacefully content surrounded by two of the visiting women that he took on a tour of the place. All three were naked and sleeping off the affects of sex. These were twin spanish girls and each one was hogging an arm. He loved his life, so much better than all the senseless killing of his past life.

The scottish man woke up easily enough and kissed each of the women to wake them up. He then got up and walked out to take a piss and nearly pissed on his feet when he saw the ship off in the distance. He rushed into his home and told the women to be off and find a good hiding place.

In minutes he was dressed in a black poets shirt, his green tights, sash, and boots and looked down at his scimitar. "Ahh my beloved Claire, I was hoping I wouldn't need you for more than getting me a few sleeping companions each night."

He rushed out with her and broke into the local church. The pirate ship could hear the bleating of the bell that roused people from their sleep.

Davik awoke to the soft rocking of The Hades’ Gold and the humid smell of sex. A groan escaped his lips, his head felt as though cannons were going off inside it. With a effort he lifted himself the girl below him, taking a moment to savour the pleasing feel of her rump against his ground. Suddenly the events of last night came flooding back, they were very similar to the ones he got every morning after awaking. They were memories of grunting and groping, panting and fucking like dogs in the humid heat of his cabin.

Another night, another girl, his eyes drifted to the figure of another girl, fast asleep. Ah yes, the Chanelle sisters, or at least that’s what they’d told him in that Marseille whorehouse a year ago. It didn’t really matter if they were indeed sisters, Davik always looking for new women and at any rate he was getting bored of them. The moment he stood up he felt his head spin, he let out another groan and clumsily threaded his legs into his britches and fastened them up. He felt his stomach wretch and turn, he’d hit the ale pretty hard last night, not to mention the wine and the brandy.

Seeking some fresh air he slipped out of the cabin and left the French whores to their slumber. Immediately the cool sea breeze hit his sweaty body, he shivered and let out a content sigh as the air cooled the sweat on his body. The nights were always unbearably humid, but the days were worse. The sun was beginning to rise, finally the day had arrived. Today they would take Haiti, he could not help feel a pang of excitement at the prospect. That island was full of gold, the whore’s isle, or so they said. He knew them to be the rants of overzealous and randy sailors but as with all legends, there’d be a grain of truth behind them. Dark eyes took in the horizon where the island lay, they were closing in now. As his eyes took in the view they settled on the silhouette of Chante Aideen, his trusted second in command. Not only was she a capable pirate she was one hell of a woman.

Slowly he approached her from behind. Today they would both kill more than their fair share, and take a lot more. Davik had always been able to sense the chemistry between them but he’d never acted upon it. For most of his life he’d been used to taking what he wanted, without asking or consideration, he found it quite appealing to keep her “pure”, at least in his eyes. There were few females he had not screwed aboard the Hades’ Gold, but Chante was one of them. Still, he enjoyed teasing her.

His large masculine hands came to rest on her shoulders.

“Good morning, Chante.” He allowed his hands to move down her shoulders ever so lightly as they both gazed towards the island of Haiti. “Can you feel it Chante? All the gold on that island, riches beyond your wildest dreams. Not to mention the women, and the men.” His tone lilted slightly, suggestively, his hands moved down over her front, slowly snaking over her shapely body. They moved over the smooth silk encasing her breasts, he whispered deeply in her ear.

“There’ll be more than enough for both of us, and I must say the French harlots we brought on board at our last stop are starting to bore me.” He did so enjoy teasing, she knew what his…appetites were like.

Haiti lay ahead of them, like a young ripe woman waiting to be taken.

“Sound the bell and wake the crew Chante. When enough blood has been spilled tonight we shall feast like kings.” His lips were so close now, his breath dancing across her earlobe, his hands massaging her shoulders slowly, rhythmically. Abruptly his hands slip away from her shoulders and he stepped away, slinking away back to his cabin. Preparations had to be made, a pirate had to look his best when he was pillaging.

Johnathan was standing amidst the citizenry. "Everybody, take those closest to you and head deep into the mountains!" They started protesting, but he had none of it. "You can rebuild your houses and regrow food. But only if you live!"

One of the spanish twins looked at him, but he didn't let her speak. "I'll delay them as much as possible." But he knew as he said it, no one would leave his side and he turned to the ship out there. "This day, I prove my use. More than one pirate will fall to my blade." He had a flintlock pistol in his sash and he grunted.

How dare these pirates interrupt his retirement! He hoped they said their prayers, because he wouldn't let them walk away unscathed. He grinned his rascal grin and pulled out a spyglass he owned and surveyed the scene. He let loose a low whistle when he saw Chante. "Beautiful piece of work there. Too bad she's with those bastards. I would love to wear that pretty one out."

He walked into a building deep into the town as not to die from cannon fire. "Let them come into town, then I can fight them on my terms."

Was that a bell she heard? Oh how wonderful, the curvaceous Chante grinned as the sound brushed past her ears. Obviously, their sneak attack plans would need some altering. She was sure Captain Reinhardtand was already scheming how they would strike. Speaking of which…

Two familiar hands came to rest on her shoulders, burning her flesh. Her sense of wellbeing vanished and was replaced by the tension this man always evoked. His words had no meaning to her now, the sexually torture he put her through. Everywhere he touched, he left a trail of scorching flesh. The adventure his hands were taking didn’t stop there, they continued to move down over the length of her body. Her grip tightened over the wood of the ship as she stood on wobbly legs.

“Sound the bell and wake the crew Chante. When enough blood has been spilled tonight we shall feast like kings.”

Lifting herself from the trance she was just in. She nodded her agreement to her Captain. Leaning against the boat to keep her balance once his hands slipped away from her. Leaving her there aching as he always did. He knew how she felt and she hated it. Shaking her head as she watched her cunning Captain leave, she did what she was asked. Crossing the deck, gripping the rope and giving it a hard tug. A devilish grin spread across her face, she hoped the people of Haiti heard it.

Sprinting toward the cabin, knocking on the hard wood loudly. What was taking them so long? They had already been spotted and they only had a few short moments before they reached the dock.

“Come on boys! We don’t have all day!”

It did not take too long for Davik to get himself dressed, he roused one of the French twins, who also served as his maid and she helped him dress. Now was the time to look impressive, a Pirate captain’s reputation was formed on his successes, and few things conveyed success and material wealth as clearly as cloths and jewellery. As the French harlot buttoned up his frilly silk shirt, Davik’s eyes settled on her twin, still slumbering softly. As usual, Davik’s baser appetite got the better of him, quickly unbuttoning his britches he coaxed the young French woman’s head to his crotch.

“Take this to your sweet mouth, Cherie” A wicked smirk crossed his lips, never really giving her the option, she was rudely awoken from her sleep as his semi-flaccid manhood invaded her rosebud mouth. It was quick, that was for sure, while her opposite number finished adding his numerous earrings Davik plundered the young woman’s mouth. Grinding his engorged member into her tight mouth again and again, the harlot accepted it numbly with the minimum of fuss. The twins had only been onboard for a few months but they’d gotten used to the Captain’s appetites. Davik didn’t consider himself a harsh master, his harem were treated well, given their own quarters, or at least kept away from the unruly pirate crew, but when Davik wanted something it was a foolish wench who refused him.

With a few grunts Davik finished himself off, clasping the woman’s head to his crotch as he filled her wanton mouth with his seed for the third time in the last twelve hours. There was nothing to say to her, he patted her as a master might pet his dog after performing some cute trick and pulled up his britches before steeping into his billowy black pants. It was a gaudy outfit, all gold-embroidering, silk cuffs and brazen gold chains. In other words it was the ideal outfit for a pirate captain. It reflected his ego.

Bucking his sabre to his side, and stuffing two flint-lock pistols into the purpose-designed belt he wore, it’s buckle set with a large ruby he stepped out onto the main deck of the Hades’ Gold.

“Come on you seadogs!” He bellowed, booting a scurrying young lad up the backside as he ran past and up the rigging.

“The riches of the world await and still you slumber! Up my lads! Up and to arms! All the gold in Haiti is yours for the taking!” The deck was rapidly becoming a hive of activity. The ship glided softly on the calm waters, right into the bay. Hatches opened, cannons were readied.

“Give the town a volley! If they don’t know we’re here yet, by Hades they will now!” His order was barked down to the decks below. A few moments later the morning placidity was destroyed by the heavy thudding of cannon as the Hades’ Gold’s six starboard cannon fired. The heavy leaden shot screamed over the town, tearing brick and mortar apart, sending debris scattering this way and that, catching several unfortunates.

It was the way Captain Reinhardt liked it, the gunshot would scare away all the slovenly peasants, leaving only those people who hoped to make a profit. A pirate ship coming into port was not always bad, especially for innkeepers and brothel madams. The crew of the Hades’ Gold hadn’t enjoyed shore leave since Marseille, the ship was filled with gold, gold that burned to be spent on ale and wenches. The Hades’ Gold swept majestically into the bay, it’s bells ringing and crew whooping and yelping like sex-starved, beer-starved dogs. The ship moored up alongside an appropriate jetty, gang planks were lowered and a steady stream of the filthiest, loudest and roughest sailors stampeded down and into the town. Most rushed immediately to the inns and brothels.

Davik was one of the last to get off, he noticed Chante had yet to disembark.

“Come my dear Chante, let’s see if we can’t find you a strapping lad...” He smirked suggestively. “…or a pretty belle” and leaped off the deck of the Hades’ Gold. They would plunder the land’s riches, but first they would get drunk.

Johnathan was standing in the sole bar and people were getting out the back. He had a clever idea and grabbed a bottle of whiskey he had special ordered. He stuffed a rag in it and the rag hit a torch, lighting up in a molative cocktail.

He walked out with the homemade bomb and gutted a pirate through with his scimitar. "Yo ho ho, no pile of rum you scurvy dogs." He threw the whiskey into the bar and they could see it immediately catch aflame with the rum.

Another pirate tried to run him through, but he slapped the weapon to the side and slit his throat. He was making his way to the captain, and drew his flintlock pistol. He shot a pirate that was standing right next to the Captain and he blew the smoke out and put it back into his sash. He passed by several demolished buildings and looked slightly to the side. His hut was wrecked and he got angry.

He castrated one pirate with a smooth move and decapitated him. The swordfighter would definently be difficult to take down.

Jack stood looking ot the rear window, he would have given any thing to make this go by faster. "Capim' unmarked ship dead ahead" the man in the crows net yelled. "Spyglass!" he instructed a cabin-boy, the boy imeadiatly gave him what he wanted. Jack looked through it and saw a sloop (like a PT Boat). "Pirates!" he said through his teath. "Full ahead!" he yelled the Sailing Master. Minutes later when they were in speaking range Jack yelled across to them "This is the HMS Viceroy, surrender or be killed"

He was still a single man, with no shot in his pistol, and a ton of angry pirates at his nose. Adding to that, he wasn't suicidal and that made him make a strategic withdrawl.

He took off over the rubble until he was clear of the pirates that gave chase. He hid in some bushes planning out his next plan. They lost their bar, so now they will probably just be looking to whore around. Give them some time and then he can make his way to their ship and commandeer it. He didn't like the idea of leaving his friends on the island, so this should be only temporary. But it was his best plan so far.

OOC: Assuming the fight hasn’t happened…


“Come my dear Chante; let’s see if we can’t find you a strapping lad...” He smirked suggestively. “…or a pretty belle”

Chante rolled her eyes. Her captain was very outspoken about her sexuality. She loved the company of men and women…sometimes both at the same time. She was never one to be shy about anything, other than the affection she felt for the handsome captain at her side. The bell toll had caused much of the islands people to scatter, leaving the street empty. A few homeless souls dotted the streets but nothing else. A whore still stood on a corner, talking to a man who could barely stand on his own two feet with a glazed over look in his eyes and a bottle (probably once full of bitter rum) clutched loosely in his hand.

Pushing a pub door open, Chante could hear the bottle crash on the floor as she walked inside. The strong smell of tobacco meet her nostrils. Honestly, she hated the smell. She hated everything about it./ She just found it a colossal waste of time. Her eyes flicked around the room. It too was empty. Looking up at Davik she lifted and dropped her shoulders.

“Ah’m sure our greetin’ party is just runnin a bit late. Funny...” She started, crossing her arms underneath her breasts, making them press tightly against her top. “…Seems like this happens everywhere we go eh?”

“Ah, well…waste not…want…not or some shit like that…” She smiled, stomping her way over broken glass and spilled rummy. Sliding behind the bar, she looked around, hands itching to touch a new bottle of rum. Her mouth was dry and she hadn’t had a drop in days. Which was VERY unlike her. Picking up a bottle and uncorking it she swung it up to her lips and gulped down her first taste. Releasing a heavy satisfied sigh her eyes caught onto Davik.

“Wonder who rung that bell, I do feel we oughta pay him a visit and thank him for helping us spread the good word that Hades’ gold was paying the good people of Haiti a visit.”

Bending down again she reached for another bottle. Setting it down onto the bar she moved it closer to the edge offering it to her dangerously good-looking Captain. “Drink up, soon you’ll be slipping into every rose in Haiti. You know they simply cannot resist y'ah.” The turnout was disappointing but she was sure things would pick up shortly.

OOC: Is anyone still willing to be apart of this?

OOC: I am, just lost the thread. Ignoring the skirmish because you were

IC: Johnathan was sitting in the pub, he was suspicious and watched the pirates. The way he was carying, he was the one that had rung the bell. He didn't need the pirates here, and he watched her and the other dangerously.

He had his hand on his sword, just in case. But he wouldn't pull the sword out unless he was forced to. He had a glass of whiskey he had special ordered at his side and he drank it with his offhand.

OOC: Bleh, crapness, but my mind is spaghetti right now.

Rapheal Sebastiani awoke abruptly; at the first thunderous report of cannonshot he sat up, pulling his head from betwist the too ample breasts of an overly made up Haitian courtesan and swung his booted feet to the ale and rum and mead splattered wooden floor of the seedy, rundown quayside pub. The first cannonshot was followed in quick succession by a volley of shots. Each strategically placed so as to cause as least little loss of life (or; at least structural damage to the delapidated drinking hole as that unknown ship's gunnery master had deemed) as possible. It was more a wake up call to any down on his luck scurvy seadog that succorance, or at any rate, another source of ready employment for their cutlasses and sabre blades and flintlock pistols, had arrived in port.

Rapheal immediately grabbed for his belt baldric and quickly girded it about his almost too slender waist, grabbed his auxilary sword belt and slipped both it and his powderhorn lanyard over his head, belted on his custom designed braced pistols holster, snatched up his heavily brocaded mantle and finally his wide-brimmed, musketeer-type ostrich plumed hat.

" i needs must hie myself away from thee, m'dears! Me ship's come in at last!!"

he fairly crowed to the unheeding, slovenly dressed, over made up doxies whose table he'd shared the previous night. Almost as an afterthought, he checked his moneypurse and found it stuffed with English pound notes and French franks, and Deutch marks. In his hurry to don his hat, he'd spilled a couple handfuls of loose currency, but he made no move to try and collect these up off the floor. An unstoppered, mostly empty bottle of rum sat near the remains of a plateful of congealed roast partridge. Frowning thoughtfully down at the detritus of last night's succulent repast, Rapheal snatched up the bottle of rum and drained it to the last drops. Slamming the empty bottle down onto the table, to a couple of miserable groans from the hungover trollops, and a particularly sour face from one, Rapheal turned away and swaggered bantily away from the table.

He got all of four ground- eating steps away from the table, before he discovered his flies were undone, allowing the glans of his circumsized penis to poke out the open aperture; and his bejewelled basket-hilted Scottish broadsword was still standing stuck bladetip down into the floor near the chair at the which he reclined in his drunkenness and fallen fast asleep. He was walking back to go and retrieve it; deeming his flies could wait the moment more it would take replace the sword back into its scabbard, when the doors of the pub noisily flew open at his backside.

"Oh, bugger, "

Rapheal quipped.

"I'm alway leaving me blade out whare any larcenous olde sot can walk right up and trip himself over it. "