The Pirates of the Lost Treasure STORYTerra is a vast and beautiful world, populated with many strange wonders. There are islands that have yet to be discovered, creatures that will not be tamed, and magic is everywhere. The largest, most powerful kingdom in Terra is Coventry, a verdant green land of rolling hills and mountains and woods. On the coast of Coventry lies a bustling port city named Stonehaven that is positioned by the Emerald Sea. Over the years, Stonehaven's economy has boomed, their ships trading with almost every known country. Ships are always leaving and coming from Stonehaven. Some of the ships carry very expensive trading goods...which is why pirates are such a huge problem in these parts. King Roger, the Ruler of Coventry, has launched a vicious campaign against these sea-faring marauders, but he has his work set out for him. Pirates are some of the most conniving, wily characters, and they are notoriously hard to catch. For more than a decade, King Roger's archnemesis has been Captain Blast, an infamous pirate known far and wide for his crazy antics and devil-may-care attitude. Captain Blast is only twenty-nine, but he is looked up to by pirates from all over. On many occasions King Roger has vowed that if he catches him, he plans to execute him publicly to make an example to all pirates. King Roger's men have caught Captain Blast. A man of his word, King Roger has arranged for Captain Blast's execution to take place at high noon in the town square of Stonehaven, where he was caught. Everyone is invited to watch and King Roger has arrived via carriage to give a speech...right before they cut off Captain Blast's head. But word has spread that when Captain Blast was arrested, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "WHOEVER SAVES ME CAN COME WITH ME TO FIND THE LOST TREASURE!!! I KNOW WHERE IT IS!!!" The Lost Treasure is a famous treasure that was lost three hundred years ago. The legend says that a long-dead famous pirate named Captain Firebrand stole a chest-full of treasure from an ancient temple, which included precious jewels, gold coins, and an ensorcelled mirror that allowed the user to find anything they wanted. Captain Firebrand planned to use the mirror to find all of the hidden treasures in the world and become the richest pirate ever, but he didn't get the chance: he was immediately attacked by King Gordon's navy (King Roger's great-great-great-great-great grandfather). It is said that Captain Firebrand's ship was destroyed in the process, but Firebrand's body was not found in the wreckage...and neither was the treasure. Some people believe that Firebrand's body was simply lost at sea and the treasure sank to the bottom of the murky depths. But some folk with fanciful imaginations believe that Captain Firebrand escaped with the treasure in a dinghy and that he was marooned on an island for the rest of his life...and that the Lost Treasure is still there, untouched and unclaimed. PLOTYou are a pirate that wants to save Captain Blast, either because of his knowledge of the Lost Treasure, or out of the goodness of your heart, or for whatever reason you decide. After the GM (myself) makes the first post, you are free to put up your own post and detail your character making his/her way to the town square. GAMEPLAY Your character is a pirate without a crew. You may chose three weapons for your character or two weapons and one magical power, called a 'Talent'. Almost everyone in Terra has a family member or knows someone who has a Talent. Some Talents are small, such as lighting a candle without a match or healing small cuts and bruises. Other Talents are great and terrible, such as conjuring storms or bringing back the dead. People with Talents are called all manner of names: witch, wizard, mystic, shaman, warlock, etc etc. A general blanket term for them is 'Talented' or 'the Talent'. For the sake of this game, no one will have a Talent that's something too big and flashy. In your character template explain in detail what your Talent is (if you chose to have one). Like if your Talent is throwing fireballs, can you make only one fireball at a time or can you make two in each hand? Can you make fireballs when you're wet, or only when you're dry? Do you have to be angry to make fireballs? That kind of thing. During a fight, you can write all the way up to when your character attacks, and then the GM will determine how well the attack goes. And try to be practical: if you throw fireballs while standing on a flimsy wooden bridge, for instance, the bridge will probably catch fire and endanger everyone on it. Also, characters can get injured in this game, so don't run into a group of fifty soldiers and expect not to get an arm chopped off, or worse. IMPORTANT FIGURES King Roger: Strong, iron-willed king of Stonehaven, plans to wipe out all pirates. Queen AnnaBeth: King Roger's beautiful young wife, known to be eccentric. Alan Warding: The Royal Wizard, King Roger's personal bodyguard, has the Talent of making strong magical shields. Lilura Silkweb: The Royal Witch, Queen AnnaBeth's personal bodyguard, has the Talent of weaving silver webs out of thin air. Captain Blast: Infamous pirate, known for his devilish good looks, bravery, charisma, and cunning. Billy Bones: Captain Blast's first mate, constant companion throughout all of his adventures. Captain Firebrand: Legendary pirate, known for finding the Lost Treasure. CHARACTER TEMPLATE Name: Age: Gender: Weapons: Talent (if any): Appearance: Personality: Other:
CHAPTER ONE: THE MAP The town square was overcrowded. Common people were packed all around a rickety wooden stage in the center, bustling and making a raucous. Even more people looked out of the windows around the square or stood on roofs, waiting for the spectacle to take place. A ring of twelve soldiers in black and gold uniforms stood around the stage, swords strapped to their belts and muskets slung across their backs. They stood completely still and glared at anyone who came too close. Suddenly, the crowd exploded into pandemonium as five people walked up the stairs to the stage. The first person was Captain Blast, his hands chained behind his back. He was dressed completely in black, from his long black coat to his knee-high black boots. He even wore his wide-brimmed black hat, his wavy jet-black hair spilling down over his shoulders. The crowd called him names like "villain" and "scum", but there were a few shouts of "rebel" and "hero". The supportive comments were quickly suppressed as the soldiers went out in the crowd and clubbed a few people with the blunt end of their muskets. Through it all, Captain Blast grinned saucily and winked at some of the women and a few men. Directly behind Captain Blast were two more soldiers, and behind them came King Roger, a glowing look of triumph on his face. He wore white and gold clothes, his shiny brown hair swooped back into a short ponytail. Roger was handsome in a conventional way, like an old painting of a war hero, with his square face and big white teeth, but something about his snobbish attitude made him decidedly unattractive. He waved to the crowd and smiled as he walked onto the stage, as pleased as punch. King Roger almost frowned when he saw how nonchalant Captain Blast was acting, but he quickly covered it up. He seemed determined to enjoy Blast's execution, no matter what. Finally, at the king's side was the reason that there were not more guards present. It was the Royal Wizard, Allan Warding. Allan was decked out in a dark blue robe with silver trimming and pointed blue shoes. He was a young man of twenty-five with piercing blue eyes and black hair that had premature white streaks over both temples. Yes, he was the Royal Wizard, but many people believed he took his job too seriously, from his haughty attitude to the long robes he wore constantly. He was even trying to grow a beard, but had only managed some patchy stubble on his cheeks. When they got to the top of the stage, the two soldiers pushed Captain Blast down to his knees. The pirate shot them both murderous looks, but then continued grinning at the audience, as if he wasn't worried in the least. Everyone began to quiet down. The execution of Captain Blast was about to commence.
The pair walked hand in hand along the stone wall fortifications that circled the bay, stealing glances at each other and giggling away, their laughter echoing across the docks. The man was svelte and handsome, with loops of brown hair bouncing in front of his face with each joke and he would point here and there across the bay and lean in to her. "See there," he said in broken words, his accent strong and foreign, "that ship The Maiden. Very good ship, very thin and beautiful, like you." The woman was not thin. Nor was she beautiful. She was in fact a rather portly woman, wrapped in fine linen to mask her fuller figure and covered in jewellery to distract from her rather pale and blotchy face. She stuck out like a sore thumb, or a money bag in Ace's eyes, a big money bag. She was a Countess - the Countess of Mavenrock to be more precise, a large village on the outskirts of Stonehaven that sat neatly on the busiest road into port, which meant plenty of coin. Her father, Duke Mayweather, was on the up with connections in Stonehaven, and not a man to cross either. But Ace loved the thrill of such risks, especially when they had rewards as big as these. "Viktor." She turned to him, losing herself in his eyes. "I want to come with you to Djallivik, it sounds like such a wonderous place." He tapped her hand and smiled, and she continued, "Stonehaven is so very drab, and so too is Mavenrock and father never lets me do anything." She slumped a little, pouting like a spoilt child. "I want to run away with you." "Da, I want too. I do." Ace said in his forced accent. "I would take you today if I could, but you know I can't." "I told you, we can get your sister out of this. I can front the mon-" "No, we not speak again like this." Ace raised his voice a little and looked disappointingly into the sky, watching the seagulls flock. "This is my problem, Viktor's to deal alone." "That's where you are wrong." The Countess turned pleadingly towards him once more. "We can do this together. The bail is thirty thousand pesca, we go and pay that, we take your sister and then we fly from here, to Djallivik!" She said loudly. The Countess was beginning to feel ever so bold, she had never mentioned the specific amount before. Ace grinned. It was time. "Are you sure on this? My life would be forfeit to you if so." Ace said, hugging her arm. She giggled at the thought, the idea of holding this handsome man to ransom for eternity, there was a guilty pleasure in that. "I'm sure Viktor, I'll get the money and we-" "Oi!" They had hardly taken notice but there was a man standing in front of the pair, twenty feet away, crossed arms with a toothy grin. He was a dirty little man, with a white stained vest turned yellow and faded red and white pantaloons that were patched several times over. His hair was buzz cut and his ears, nose and teeth were rather large, forcing Ace to mutter under his breath, Rat. With a slight twist of his hip, Rat showed off his rapier. "Afternoon Acey boy, we've been looking everywhere for you. Mahrez wants what's owed, and it's time to pay up. With money or blood, we don't mind." "Excuse me filthy man," The Countess spat, "who do you think you are talking to?" Rat winked and smiled, "I'm talking to your man there, love." "Your tiny brain is clearly confused, his name is Viktor." "Ooh is it now?" Rat couldn't help but chuckle. "This is a dastardly play Acey boy, especially with Duke Mayweather's daughter. I hear he's not one to trifle with." "Viktor, I'm scared," She nuzzled into Ace, "what is his going to do?" Ace tapped her head gently while taking a subtle look behind him to see another enforcer, waiting with bated breath. You see Rat was considered the voice of Mahrez's thugs, but this man was definitely the muscle. And what a giant of a man he was towering above them both ominously, even when stood twenty feet away. His stone coloured skin was tense and creased, his bare chest exposed with a simple leather strap and dagger attached and he glared at Ace with venom in his eyes. Ace slowly stared out across the crescent moon bay, the fortifications snaking along its edge and a web of wooden docks jutting out into the sea, with each ship a fly caught in it's trap. He breathed slow, watching Rat step ever nearer. In one fluid motion he spun The Countess on her heel out, dancing with her and spinning her back in for a magical embrace, their tender lips meeting. He held there for a moment and then finally pulled apart leaving her dazed and aroused, and in his usual yet unfamiliar voice Ace said, "I am so terribly sorry about this, my lady." Rat moved in quick and Ace launched The Countess at him, not before pulling the diamond necklace from her plump neck. He barely had time to watch as he bolted past Rat, laughing at The Countess flattening him to the ground. There was a shrill squeak behind him and he dashed along the fortifications, turning a quick head over his shoulder to see the two scrambling on the ground and the enforcer stomping angrily towards him. And gaining. Ace took a hard left down the wooden stairs and onto the docks. The waves were high and washed across and under the slats, the oak slick and dangerous. The enforcer continued to gain and had flown down the stairs, stomping hard to catch his prey. The dock split into a T junction and Ace darted right, further out towards the edge of the bay but sadly no cover in sight, save for a group of bewildered fishermen, a few barrels and some dinghies. Without a second thought Ace grabbed hold of two barrels and leaned with all his might. The enforcer was just behind, foaming at the mouth. Barely in time the barrels fell to the ground and wet fish spewed out. Ace ducked a swipe from the enforcer's dagger and danced away, watching over his shoulder as the big brute slipped and fell over spilt tuna. "Ha!" Was all the goading Ace could think of and he poked a long tongue in the big brute's direction. The giant man was still attempting to rise but slipt over once more. "You should the look on your face!" Ace sniped back at him. This seemed to send the brute into a frenzied rage and he burst from the fish like a killer whale, back on the hunt. Thwack! Completely clothes-lined, Ace's whole body swung up in the air and landed with a squelchy thud on the dock, the wind squeezing out of his entire body. He gasped, blearily looking up at the low hanging mast off an old dinghy, and the dark, thundering shadow of the enforcer bounding near. In a flash Ace was up. Too quick, and he held his head for a moment to steady himself. A quick shake and he was off again, with the brute close behind. Eyes darting left and right he began to sum up his options. He needed an escape plan and quick, but the docks were heading further out to sea and there was no real cover in sight; the larger boats were all on the northern side of the bay. With a quick dash he turned sharp and hopped onto another dinghy and over onto another platform. The speed was too much and his boot heels slid awkwardly across the wet dock, tipping him towards the edge. In a panic he splashed his arms through the air and came to a final stop with his toes just over the water. Splosh. Behind, the enforcer had attempted the same agile feat and from the smile on Ace's face, it hadn't turned out well. The brute had jumped onto the dinghy, but with such a huge mass the boat had instantly fallen under, taking a wide eyed boatman with him. The whole thing capsized furiously and only a few small bubbles rose to the surface and then stopped. Ace laughed in the face of the rain and waves and stepped over to the edge to admire his fortune. The waves crashed and crashed over the capsized dinghy, and Ace leaned in further with fist ready to punch the bastard right back to the seabed. Nothing surfaced though. Not even the boatman. The brute couldn't hold his breath for that long, surely? Ace quickly glanced behind and saw nothing but the Stonehaven docks. His fingers danced nervously on his rapier an- The dock rocked thunderously, the brute raising his entire weight out of the water from under it and smashing his back into the wooden panels. Ace gasped and his balance lost, flying ungracefully onto the capsized boat, the waves battering into his face. He clung onto the rudder for support but his eyes widened and his ankle became unbearably tight. Looking back in horror, the water sweeping over him, there was the enforcer with an iron grip on his ankle, emerging from the ocean like a great white. A sharp tug tried to drag Ace into the water but he held onto the rudder for dear life. With his free leg Ace started kicking the brute with all his might. Another tug. Ace kicked again but missed, slipping down further and stretching his body. The brute grinned evilly and raised his free arm with a dagger in hand. Another tug, this one causing Ace's left hand to wrench free from the rudder, the right hand barely holding on. One last pull would be enough, Ace knew. The blade was raised high ready to strike. With one final kick, Ace aimed the hit at his own ankle, catching the bastard right on the knuckle and it was just enough to loosen the grip ever so slightly. Ace slunk his foot away and curled his entire body around the rudder, watching the brute's blade sink deep into the carcass of the dinghy, right where a devilishly handsome rogue's leg had just been. Now was not the time for vanity! On unsteady legs, Ace began to stand on the capsized dinghy but each time the enforcer would jerk it violently and cause him to slip. Both men were tiring fast at this point and with every crashing wave it became more a battle of wills. Ace stood once more and the brute jerked his blade. Who would give in? Ace stood again, legs wavering, the searing burn in his muscles like wildfire and the brute shook him down once more, albeit more tamely then before. On his feet, laboured and breathing hard, Ace hauled himself up on the capsized dinghy yet again. The enforcer shook the boat and Ace wobbled but stood his ground. Incensed, the brute thrashed at the boat using his body to disrupt Ace's concentration, but the big man was too fatigued. With one final lunge Ace slapped half his torso on the docks and clawed with his arms to stay on. The brute dare not move for fear of drowning, holding onto the dagger with both hands and grimaced, watching Ace pull himself up onto the dock. "Woo!" Ace pumped his fists into the air, actually enjoying the numbing cold from the rain. He slumped up to his knees and faced the brute, who was still bobbing in the water. Ace's shoulders heaved up and down and each breath wheezed from his throat, and he asked, "W-What's your name?" There was honour in the question and the brute obliged, "Wrex." Was all he could muster. He seemed to be saving energy for an attempt out of the water. "Wrex huh?" Ace tapped his stomach, "M-Might wanna lay off the ale Wrex. Looking kinda heavy." Wrex simmered in the ocean, but for once his face was devoid of emotion. He simply pulled the dagger out of the capsized dinghy, and spun it with venom at Ace. It slashed past the rogue's shoulder and with flicker of wind it was gone, plunging deep into the ocean. "Agh!" Ace grimaced and clutched his bleeding shoulder, "Ha! You lost your dagger." "You know, I could crush your skull with my bare hands." "Point taken." And with a surprising resurgence of energy, Ace hopped to his feet and dashed back towards town, hoping to hide away in plain sight within the bustling crowds of Stonehaven.
"A dagger and rapier, both iron." The man began listing as Asara lay on the cot, stopping recovering from the event a few nights ago. "A flintlock rifle, sixty pouchs of gunpowder and an equivalent amount of shot, mostly waterlogged. Three blouses, an equivalent amount of trousers, a skirt." "Is that everything?" She coughed, feigning weakness. That man stood at her side shook his head. "One jewellery box. Might I just say it is rather remarkable that only you survived, and so many of your personal belongings were nearby." "Truly I am blessed." She murmured, hiding a smirk. When the ship had been hit, a pair pirates skirmishing behind her vessel, she'd loaded up the sole slide boat with her own property, setting the ship on fire as she left as well. The current had dragged her to a bay slightly south of the city. All it had taken was to scatter her belongings about, push the dingy outnband then lie in the sand like an unfortunate trout. She'd been in the small physicians office for three, no four days. He was kind man, elderly and gentle. Seemingly incapable of looking after himself, but still going at it anyway, and surprisingly well from the looks of the place. The walls were freshly plastered, and the wood beams having a thick layer of varnish on them. "Would you mind leaving while I get dressed?" To which he gave a nod and went outside the room, Asara rapidly pulling herself up and grabbing a pair of dark trousers and a light blouse. She'd need to go get a new jacket, something waterproof, and find a new ship of course. Once she had her clothing on she picked up her belt, placing the rapier inside so it could be drawn and putting her boots on, sliding her dagger into the left one. After that she slung the rifle her shoulder, the strap keeping it secure and with that she left. She took the jewelry box, carrying it in her hands as she was unsure where to place it as she left. She took a deep breath as she stepped outside, before being dragged along by a crowd. She sighed, there was a reason she hated people, this was part of it.
Elva slipped between the hot, sweaty bodies as everyone cheered. She munched nonchalantly on a juicy half-eaten apple as she went, her bright green eyes trained on the little stage at the center of all the madness. Captain Blast, in the flesh: famous pirate and handsome devil. Just a month ago, when Elva had ran away from her gypsy clan to become a pirate, something had told her that it was only a matter of time before she made the acquaintance of Captain Blast. But she would never have guessed that it would be at his execution. Elva's intense green eyes narrowed when she saw King Roger's gloating expression. Yeah, yeah, gloat while you still can, Roger, she thought spitefully. Elva hated King Roger with a passion. It would bring her great joy to steal Captain Blast right from under his smug nose, maybe even punch him in the gut in the process. But she wasn't quite sure how she was going to get by all the soldiers: twelve on the ground and two on the stage. Not to mention the Royal Wizard, or the "Royal Whiz-kid" as she liked to call him. He was pretty young to hold such an important position, and he looked foolish, the way he was trying so desperately to dress and act the part. But Elva was not stupid enough to underestimate him: he had to have some power if the king chose him as his personal bodyguard. She finished her apple at the same time that she reached the front of the crowd. "This is a tricky situation," she grumbled, bouncing the apple core in her palm. She had a strong urge to throw it at King Roger's face, but she waited for the right moment before she struck. Everyone quieted down as she tried to come up with a plan. I better act fast, before it's too late, she thought anxiously.
Up through the cobbled streets Ace climbed, the stones marbled thick with rain that cut through the narrow stairs, spinning washing lines and knocking blinds open and closed. In this stormy day a shade of pale blue sat heavy on Stonehaven and Ace's locks were slick to his forehead and stuck in his eyes. His gaze darted between darkened alleyways and blackened windows but no souls received him back, no toothless hag snarling at him and no children running through the streets. Ace kept his glance behind him every now and then, watching the stairs he had traversed suspiciously. The road behind followed down in a straight line all the way back to the dock, and yet he still saw no living soul in sight. Grip tight around his rapier, he pressed on. Through the heavy rain his ears tweaked. A ringing, faint at first but the winds died down for a moment and Ace heard the full chime of the town square bell piercing the eerie silence. Up ahead he saw the silhouettes of two figures slip across the path, and he squinted his eyes too late to see them quickly disappear. The street finally levelled off and in the distance he could hear murmurings, and sensed a mob ahead behind layers of brick and stone. Ace pushed on, dabbing at his cut shoulder to check the damage. A light slash if nothing else but he was most saddened by the cut in his brown coat, the frayed edges flattened in the rain. The crowd were louder now and he looked up and turned the corner into an alcove, sweeping into the darkness and around another corner, to see an executioner ominously standing on high, the chattering mob just below. Cautiously Ace stepped out into the rain and headed towards the back of the mob, and nudged a man in the arm with informal curiosity. "Who's for the chop today then?" "Some pirate of sorts, like they all are." The man replied. "Goes by the name Captain Blast." Ace snorted, "Ironic name for a pirate, no?" "How so?" The man asked perplexed. "I mean come on, pirate ships get blasted all the time, right?" Ace twigged from the man's slack jaw expression that he either did not understand, or just didn't care. "A-hem, anyways... the fella looks mighty pleased with himself considering he's about to... you know." "Deluded is what it is." The man said. "The bastard's had nine lives, and thinks spouting myth and legend will save him again. Bloody Lost Treasure my arse." Ace's mouth gaped wide for a moment and he stared at the man, who was oblivious and watching on as the execution continued. "T-The Lost Treasure of the Cursed Firebrand?" Ace stammered. "Who knows? Something like that," the man replied, eyes still focused to the front, "it's just children's stories." Ace seemingly ignored these last words. He couldn't quite believe it. The Lost Treasure of Captain Firebrand, the greatest secret of the nine seas! Boy, one could only imagine what riches would be found. His appetite was growing and Ace licked his lips at the thought, his mouth tweaking into a smile in the rain.
"Rifle Miss." Came a voice from behind Asara, her turning around to see a man in a green uniform with a tricorn too big for his head. He as clearly a solider or guard, and clearly an inexperienced one at that,. Early twenties, slightly after teens maybe, slightly spotty complexion, barely any facial hair, youthful look in his eyes that spoke of optimism uncrushed and knees and noes unbroken. She shook her head and sighed, this would not end up well. "It's waterlogged. It won't be able to fire for the next few days." She replied, holding the weapon up to his inspection. "See, won't work at all." "Sorry miss, but I'm still going to have it take it from you, only guards are allowed firearms within the city walls." He said, stuttering slightly and revealing some lack of knowledge. The rifle itself was fine, only the black powder was water damaged, and even there was still some that was usable, such as the sort that was currently in the rifle, along with the pellet of lead that was inside only needing her to pull the trigger. "Look, at this moment it has the equivalent function as a broom. Would you take a broom from a someone in the streets?" She stated, attempting to talk her way out the situation, yet it was clear, out of either stupidity, nativity, or some other belief that there would be no change, causing her to sigh once more. "Miss, I'm request that you pa." Was all the sound he managed to get out before she smashed the stock of the weapon into his face, knocking him to the ground in a single motion. Asara glanced around, awaiting a reaction.
"Do we have a deal?" Red Eye Hawking gazed thoughtfully at the man across the table at the man called...what was it, O'Brian? O'Connel? O'something, anyways. He supposed he was supposed to have some sort of fellow feeling for the chap, who was as near a pirate as someone can be without ever leaving home. Conniving, merciless, willing to make a deal with the devil himself if it suited him... But Red Eye had seen his particular kind before: A small arrogant man who thought himself great, the king of a tiny and shabby court. It was all so terribly unimpressive. Around him, the other occupants of the darkened room shifted quietly. At least he could say O'Something wasn't a fool. There was enough hired muscle around to make anyone sane think twice about a sudden movement. Red Eye smiled. Well, not a complete fool at least. O'Something leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. "You'll have your own ship and be sailing out by the end of the day. In exchange..." His eyes drifted to the necklace on the table between them. Even in the scant light of the darkened room, it shone and sparkled entrancingly. Red Eye picked up the necklace, well aware of O'Something's eyes tracking it like a hungry dog watching a joint of lamb. "I believe I made it clear I was after more than just a ship. I have an interest in rare things. I desire something unique, something...interesting. I desire a reason not to simply walk out and find something better myself." "Everyone knows what you did to get your hands on that little piece. A dead duke, half a town in flames? And your own ship and crew in pieces at the bottom of the sea. That's the sort of thing that makes people think twice before getting involved." Red Eye grinned, the light from the necklace reflecting madly in the ruby inhabiting his right eye socket. "But that's just what makes it interesting." O'Something stiffened, then drew back. "Interesting or not, you won't find a better bargain around here, Hawking. I say again: Do we have a deal?" Red Eye allowed the links of the necklace to run through his fingers, his eye lingering on the massive emerald set in its center. Getting the jewel had been fun. "...No." O'Something's face darkened. "What?" "No, I don't think so. This...this isn't nearly interesting enough." He got to his feet and tucked the necklace back within his long coat. "Let's see if we can make things a little more exciting." And with that, he drew his pistol and fired two shots into the man's chest. As O'Something fell back with an expression of rage and shock, the brawlers around the room leaped to their feet. With a smooth cutting motion Red Eye drew the cutlass slung across his back and slashed violently across the raised arm of the nearest bruiser. Distracted by pain, the man staggered, giving Red the opportunity to send him crashing into one of his friends with a heavy kick. He glanced around the room. There were too many of them to guarantee he'd survive, let alone win. Normally these were the kinds of moments he liked best, but with regret he remembered there was one more thing he needed to do today. On the bright side, not one of them had thought to position themselves between him and the window. "If you'll pardon me, gentlemen, I've no choice but to excuse myself. I'd hate to miss the execution." With that, he charged and threw himself out through the glass. The window was three stories up, which was regrettable. But the alley outside was as narrow as he remembered, and his momentum carried him right across to the buildings on the other side. After a gut wrenching moment of scrabbling free-fall, his fingers managed to take hold of a windowsill plant box...which promptly snapped free of the wall under his weight. Another brief plunge and one slightly flattened chicken later, Red Eye was stumbling through the alleys on his way to the town square. Well, he hadn't got a ship, and he was pretty sure he'd bruised a few things. Oh, and he'd killed that unpleasant chap with the forgettable name. But all in all, that had been rather enjoyable. Now it was just a matter of losing himself in the crowd before those angry gentlemen caught up. Pausing a moment in an alley, he slipped an eyepatch on over his ruby eye. Then, making sure the necklace was still safely stowed in his coat. He made his way into the square. Fourteen guards, he thought, counting numbers as he walked through the crowd, and the Royal Wizard himself. He felt a smile coming on. This was going to be interesting.
The moment Asara knocked out one of the soldiers, they moved to surround her. Two soldiers tried to grab her arms and the other eight soldiers circled, taking out their swords and muskets. The two soldiers on the stage took out their muskets and pointed them directly at Captain Blast. King Roger still looked smug despite the sudden commotion, putting his hands on his hips and grinning widely. "Did you not think that I wouldn't suspect Captain Blast's pirate friends to come to his rescue?" King Roger leered down at Asara. He chuckled with dark glee. "Indeed, I saw it coming a mile away! You foolish wench!" He turned to the two soldiers and ordered, "Shoot Captain Blast in the head if anyone else makes a move. I will have my day!" he shouted suddenly, shaking his fist in the air. While this was all happening, the Royal Wizard stepped up next to the king and rubbed his hands together, his keen blue eyes darting left and right. Faint blue light glowed around his fingers as he readied his Talent.
It was nearly time. He could feel it in his old bones. With age came a sense of fate, a preternatural ability to know when the stars were aligning and when the eyes of something, be it God or the Devil, was watching. Wilson Lafloret had served the Lovelace family his entire life. He had grown from stable boy, to soldier, to a proud knight. When his once-strong hands became gnarled with age, too arthritic to lift a sword, he became a wise servant, a loyal companion to the next generation of the Lovelace dynasty. Looking back on all of that, he wondered how he had arrived here, staring out the filthy window of a tiny room in a rundown inn nestled in a forgotten alley, deep in the bowels of Stonehaven. He swore he heard a man get stabbed last night. Where was God then? Now it was morning. Not just any morning. THE morning. He and Cephilia had separate rooms in the inn. He hadn’t slept a wink last night. He tossed and turned, fearing for his life until, at the crack of dawn, he marched across the hall, hammered on her door with his walking stick, and discovered she hadn’t slept either… but for entirely different reasons. Her gear was spread out all over the room. Lockpicks, cutters, and small pouches of gunpowder, lead shot, and first aid lay across the bed, aligned in neat little rows. Her sword, Vigilance, was propped against the nightstand, freshly polished and oiled. She had likely disassembled it, cleaned every little cog and gear, replaced the springs with a fresh set, and tuned everything to perfection, a feat which would’ve taken all night by the light of a candle. When Wilson arrived, she was in the midst of performing the same restoration on Vengeance. He took a seat and watched the window, terrified that some villain would come swooping through it at any moment, or kick down the door and murder them both. She was so much stronger than him. He had taught her to wield a sword, back when she was a child. It had been a joke, a game. He never expected it to come to this, never thought she would take it this far. “What would your father think?” he said with a slow shake of his head. Cephilia did not reply. She was busy strapping Vengeance onto her left hand. She fastened the buckles, tested its feel, and made a fist. She took a few quick jabs at the wall, to make sure she could hear the firing mechanism click, then turned to the next barrel and did it again. “Cephilia,” Wilson said again. “Lady Cephilia…” “I heard you,” she said coldly. “Silence is my answer. That is what father would think. He knows what I do. He knows his daughter is the Red Widow. He may pretend not to, but he knows.” She laughed. “Just like the rest of the nobility, he turns up his nose and ignores what is right in front of him.” “He trusts you,” Wilson said. “Not in a million years would he ever think you could do something like this.” “Yes, of course,” Cephilia said, returning to her work. “It’s just a coincidence that every time I go on holiday another crooked noble gets robbed. Do you remember, after the Mayweather heist, when I came home with that black eye and told him I’d fallen from my horse?” “Yes, I remember. It was the dead of winter. You hadn’t gone horseback riding in months.” “Exactly. Father’s no fool,” Cephilia said. “He’s just like the rest of them. Evil only exists because good men do nothing. Cowardice is the ugliest sin, the nexus from which all else flows.” Wilson sighed. “This is madness. Whatever you think you’re going to get from Blast, it’s a lie. Milady, please rethink this. I have always feared for your safety, but this time I truly truly think these escapades will be the end of you.” Cephilia turned to look at him. “This town is crawling with pirates. True or not, his words have brought them here in droves,” she said. “If there is no Lost Treasure and Blast’s head rolls today, there will be war. When this much greed gathers in one place, it’s inevitable. I don’t even need a plan to save him; I just need to be there, ready to take advantage of the chaos.” “Think of your legacy,” Wilson pleaded. “There are people who see the Red Widow as a hero. You would throw that all away by siding with Blast? The king hasn’t put a bounty on the Widow’s head yet, but if you interfere in this execution…” “I hardly consider King Roger an ally,” Cephilia said coldly. “He’s as slimy as the rest, The only reason I haven’t attempted to empty his vaults is because I know it would be suicide. Maybe it is time I took this fight to the crown.” “Madness,” Wilson said again. He groaned and ran a wrinkled hand through his thinning gray hair. “I see I can’t dissuade you,” he said as he stood, popped his collar, and tried to look dignified, though it was clear he was on the brink of tears. Cephilia rose and embraced him, the man who had taught her nearly everything she knew. “What should I say to them?” he said, his voice muffled in her hair. “Your parents. What should I tell them, when I return without their daughter?” “What we should have told them all along: the truth,” Cephilia said. She released him and opened the door. “Goodbye, Wilson. Pray for me.” “I always do, milady.” He bowed at the waist. “I always do.” --- --- --- Minutes later, she was in the town square, calmly circling the outskirts in full gear, watching the world from beneath an ominous red hood as she glided through the thick crowd. Captain Blast was already on his knees. The king and his guards were in position, along with the royal wizard. Cephilia’s right arm itched just thinking about him as she made a mental tally of all the obstacles standing between her and Blast’s freedom. Then, the situation exploded. Cephilia didn’t see where or how it started. She just saw guards converging on a single position, presumably to make an arrest or detain an unruly spectator. Cephilia had a clear path to Blast, if only the man didn’t have two muskets to his head and a royal wizard eager to cast. She might have an answer to the latter, but the former could instantly dash her hopes of taking the Lost Treasure. This wasn’t the opportunity she was looking for. Not yet. Let it unravel a little further. Wait a little longer. Just a little longer…
"He said, he said he was going to." She added a slight chocking nose at the end of the line for effect before not saying anymore and casting her eyes to the floor. "I, I had to, before he." She decided to let their imaginations fill in the blanks. Ultimately, the devil of any story was in the detail, and by allowing as much as possible to be done by each listener, the less she had to come up with herself, and the less ways there were of poking holes in her story.
There was a shout, and the crowd surged as the soldiers broke their perimeter to converge on the source. Every inhabitant of the square was tensed, alert. Distracted. Well, since the fun was already starting, he may as well join in. Red Eye cast a quick look around the multitude of vendors lining the square, a host of local entrepreneurs selling everything from colourful pennants to sweet pastries to carved wooden toys. His normal move would be to start a fire and let the chaos spread, but the rain quite literally put a damper on that plan. On the other hand, it was perfect weather for a trick he didn't often get to play. He slipped purposefully towards the stage, removing his padded gloves. The soldiers were breaking formation completely to converge on the disturbance. Red Eye chuckled to himself. Their enthusiasm was adorable. Foolishly and conveniently adorable. The gaps opened in their perimeter were large enough to drive a ship through. With all eyes on the commotion, he had no trouble slipping into the shadows below the stage unnoticed. Tucking himself behind a support beam, Red Eye glanced up at the creaking stage above. Rain and light dripped through the slats, revealing in broken shadows the positions of the soldiers above. He was directly below them. They hadn't even secured the area below the stage? The King was either a very foolish man, or very confident in the skills of the Royal Wizard. Possibly both. Either way, it made things a little bit simpler. Touching his bare palms to the stage above, Red Eye reached for his talent. It always came so easily to him, sitting just below his skin like claws waiting to be extended. Absolute frost, cold and ruthless. It was the most honest part of him. He felt the ice spread from the core of his being, up through his hands and into the water in the wood above. He allowed it to spread slowly, subtly, coating the stage beneath the feet of the two soldiers on either side of Captain Blast. They probably wouldn't even notice the slick surface until they tried to move. Shifting position, he moved a hand to the place he was mostly sure lay beneath the eyes of the kneeling Captain Blast. Slowly and carefully, spending arduous seconds tracing his talent through a fingertip, he spelled a tiny message out in ice on the stage above: READY WHEN YOU ARE And with that, he settled into a crouch and readied himself. One hand rested on the cobblestones, spreading a thin sheen of ice ever so slowly outward. The other gripped his pistol. He had four shots left - no, three; there'd been that minstrel who wouldn't stop playing that song about the bananas. Briefly he considered sending the remaining bullets up through the boards above and into as many notable targets as possible. Imagine slaying Blast, the Royal Wizard, and the King himself in a single moment. Or even being killed himself in the attempt. Wouldn't that be a twist? But the promise of Firebrand's treasure...that was the sort of adventure that came around once in a thousand years. He wasn't about to miss it, even if that meant taking things with a hint of caution. For now.
Through the rain the chaos was building. Above the crowd Ace could see polearms from the guards jerking this way and that trying to contain the situation, and on the platform two guards with muskets aimed their weapons at the Captain's head. Ace was unsure. Was this his only hope to finding The Lost Treasure? He stood there bouncing on his toes, tapping his hands on his thighs and wondering just whether it was worth getting involved, to be touted as a criminal (not that he wasn't one now, but he was just much more incognito at this moment). "Oi! Acey boy!" Oh no, Ace thought. Far to the left of him and coming up fast were the Rat and Wrex, swords out and fists clenched hard around them. "Daddy, daddy! There he is!" A shrill shreak from behind made Ace freeze in the rain, turning to see The Countess marching towards him from the alcove, her face and dress covered in murky brown mud, and a maddening look that pierced Ace's soul. From behind her, a dark brooding figure stepped out from the shadow with jet black hair and a pistol brandished in his hand, training on Ace. Mayweather. Instantly Ace darted into the crowd, shrinking himself lower and slipping past shoulders. "Get back here coward!" The crowd were still engaged with the chaos up front, and Ace fancied his chances there than behind with the Rat, Wrex, The Countess and her father. The pale cover of the storm merged all the colours into one and Ace managed to slip further into the crowd unnoticed, still hearing shouts from behind. Yet he was nearing the front, and there was a wide birth between the crowd and the platform. There would be nowhere to hide, and he glanced behind to see the crowd slowly parting, "Where are you, scum!?" Come on Ace, think damn it, think! He skulked low towards the muddy ground and his eyes darted left and right. A noble, perfect. Ace made a bee line for the noble as subtly as he could, bouncing and bumping into shoulders, the crowd's focus still forward but some murmuring, "Hey, watch it!" Sliding near the noble, Ace noted that he was a fat man, and by the jewels on his sausage fingers he was a rich one at that. Ace sure knew how to pick them. Situated low on the noble's hip, there was a bulging pouch swaying and Ace stood close, keeping his eyes forward to the chaos while his deft hands did the dirty work. "Absolute madness, isn't it?" He said, nudging the noble. The fat man sneered slightly, as if offended a commoner would touch him, but indulged Ace in the foray of the chaos. "Hmmph, indeed! Blasted pirates. Wouldn't you say..." The noble turned to see no one standing beside him, and his pouch gone. "Guards, guards!" The noble shouted but with so much happening, his cries fell on deaf ears. Ace smirked and slithered left through the crowd but he could feel the looming presence of his pursuers nearby. He took a deep breath and held the pouch firm, notching out his pistol. One shot at this, don't mess it up. "There!" Ace glanced right and spotted Duke Mayweather, with a clear line to him through the crowd, pulling up a pistol of his own. Ace launched the heavy pouch high into the air and trained his gun on it, watching it sail through the rain. Wait for it. Mayweather pulled his own weapon high and clicked the sights up. Wait for it. The bag flew higher. Mayweather pulled his gun down and aimed right down the barrel at Ace. Wait for it. The bag hit its peak, high above the platform and Ace pulled the trigger and ducked. Screams broke out and the crowd stammered and barged around erratically. Hundreds of pesca fell from the burst bag, the golden coins dancing and spinning in the storm, the pale blue light glittering off them as they fell to the ground, covering the platform. The panicked crowd took notice and slowed, gasping in wonder at the riches above. Hundreds of pesca, all up for grabs on the platform. No one moved. They all stared slack jawed as one, unsure whether they should risk it. Then finally, a small boy ran out for a coin that had fallen through the slats. And that was all it took. The mob burst forward in jubilant shouts and rushed towards the platform. Ace hid inside the mob and rushed with them, hellbent on getting to the Captain.
Now, she thought. The crowd surged forward, lured by the promise of spilled coin, and Cephilia was right there with them, blending into the press of bodies. She saw people pushing and shoving. She even saw a blade or two, flashing in the fray. Some fell and were swallowed up, trampled underfoot. Cephilia was nearly brought down while trying to help an old woman who’d tripped. She elbowed a man in the groin, snatched the woman up and continued on. She had to get to the stage. She had to get Blast out of here and get him to tell her where the treasure was. And she had to do it before the king’s men blew his head off. Cephilia saw a large man moving through the crowd, like an icebreaker ramming its way through frigid seas. A dirty apron billowed behind him. Baker? Blacksmith? She had no idea, but it was clear he wanted that spilled coin and would charge through the gates of hell to get it, so she fell in behind him and reached the stage in record time. Think fast. No time to climb up to Blast, so I’ll bring him down to me, Cephilia thought as she vaulted over the big guy when he stooped to scoop up a handful of money. She was a blur of crimson, weaving her way between the stage’s rickety timbers. It was all toothpicks and nails down there, as if the stage had been cobbled together in a hurry. King Roger’s impatience would be his downfall. Literally. She didn’t have to look up to know where he was. Cephilia could feel the damned wizard at his side. It make her right arm tingle. She flexed her metal-clad fingers, ready to face him and- Someone else is down here. Cephilia whipped around and saw a man standing near the center, with both palms pressed to the stage above. She could feel magic radiating from him as well. Ice was slowly spreading from his hands. They even put a guard down here, beneath the stage? She thought. I underestimated you, Roger… There was a tense moment where she just stared at the man, with one hand on the hilt of her longsword, her stance ready to strike or defend at a moment’s notice. Her piercing blue eyes studied him from beneath the brim of her red hood. He doesn’t look like any guard I’ve ever seen… but if he’s a pirate here to rescue Blast and I turn my back on him what will happen? Turning one’s back on a pirate is never a good idea. Then again, neither is attacking a king. In one swift motion, Cephilia whipped around, unsheathing her sword and pulling the trigger. Its blade unfurled and looped around a thick support column -- the one directly beneath Roger’s feet. There was a loud ‘bang’ as she punched the column with her left fist, splintering the wood. She rotated her gauntlet’s cuff to the next barrel and punched again. BANG! Cephilia planted her boot on the weakened column, braced herself and pulled the chain she’d looped around it. At first, there was a low ‘crack,’ like a pencil breaking, then another and another, until the column gave way with a thunderous pop, like a tree felled in a thunderstorm. The bracing surrounding it broke violently and Cephilia ducked away, sheltering herself from a shower of splinters and falling timber as the planks beneath King Roger’s feet began to cave inward, threatening to swallow him and the royal wizard.
Asara smirked. This was going well. When the crowd had started moving she took her opportunity, smashing the butt of the rifle into a guard's face and placing the jewelry box into her belt. After that she continued to work, using the rifle as an impromptu staff. She wasn't an acrobatic fighter, having seen someone try it only to be stabbed mid-flip. Instead, she was much stationery, blocking any stabs though having a bayonet graze her shoulder. After a moment she glanced around. She was left in the open, the crowd having rushed forward to gather coins, little more than pocket change. What the hell is going on? It was then she looked up at the platform, spotting the legendary Captain Blast with his head on the chopping block. "Oh gods no." Pirates, treasure hunters, adventures. Whatever term people used for them Asana had developed a dislike for their moral aggrandizing and insistence they could do anything! Even in her mind the tone turned to an annoying chirpiness that she wanted to shoot in the kneecap. Even then she spotted someone stood beneath the kings platform, giving one of the struts a particularly rough treatment. In this case, Asara was willing to help, having a particular dislike of royalty, or more specifically the order imposed by them. She took a deep breath before lining up her shot, firing it at the same strut that had been damaged to further weaken it.
The guards stared at Asara with distrust as she began speaking, but by the end of her speech they all wore expressions of pity. She was pretty enough and it damn near broke their hearts to see a young lady so sad. "Is fine, miss," one of the soldiers murmured, reaching out hesitantly to touch Asara's shoulder. On the stage, Captain Blast watched Asara closely, a crooked grin stretching his lips. As an experienced liar himself, Blast could tell that she was spinning a tale. He was distracted by a strange sight: ice was spreading on the stage under the feet of the soldiers that flanked him. Then ice formed words in front of him: READY WHEN YOU ARE. Blast let out a soft chuckle, his fingers twitching in the iron shackles. If only I could get these off, he thought wryly. But his mind was already whirring with possible ways to get out of this dire situation. Captain Blast's thoughts were disrupted by a shower of glittering coins and the wild, rushing crowd. "Interesting," he commented, his dark eyebrows raised high. Obviously, the girl and whoever made the ice-letters were not the only ones trying to help him escape. That's when the entire stage shook violently and pitched forward like an upturned dinner plate. Captain Blast laughed out loud as he rolled forward, springing to his feet, and took off running in a random direction. King Roger screamed as he fell and landed flat on his back. "Stop himmmmmm!!!" he yelled, pointing at Captain Blast's back. The Royal Wizard groaned and pulled himself up and flung out his hands. A sphere of clear blue energy surrounded the king and Allan, like an upside down fishbowl. King Roger jumped up and started banging on the shield. "Noooo, let me out! Let me after him! I'll strangle him myself!" Allan tucked his hands into his wide sleeves and gave the king a mildly annoyed look. "My job is to protect you, my liege," he said in a nasally voice. "Let the dirty criminal run, he will never escape Stonehaven. Our soldiers will catch him soon." At the same time that the Royal Wizard said that, one of the soldiers took out a large horn and blew it as hard as he could. Every soldier in a half-mile radius that heard the horn would be after Captain Blast.
Elva was standing right next to Asara when she emerged from the crowd and knocked out one of the guards. She watched in amazement as Red Eye ducked under the stage and started using his ice powers, gasped when Ace instigated a riot over some coins, and laughed delightedly when Cephilia rushed forward and destroyed a pillar of the stage. "These are my kind of people!" Elva cried, jumping up and down and clapping her hands excitedly. She snapped out of it when Captain Blast rolled and jumped to his feet and took off running. In a flash, Elva unsheathed her cutlass and brandished her throwing axe. She couldn't lose sight of the pirate, or she might never find him again. For Elva, this wasn't about the Lost Treasure, although that was a nice perk. What she really cared about was becoming a pirate, period. And what a better way to launch her career than to join Captain Blast's dastardly crew? Elva spun and whirled through the crowd, jumping over people bending down to grabbed coins and ducking under swinging arms as some people fought over the meager riches. There was a noble shouting that the coins were his; Elva smirked and shoved him out of her way. Finally, she caught up to Blast and she trotted alongside him on his left. "Blast! I'm here to help!" she shouted above the boisterous crowd, a huge smile on her face. A horn sounded and Elva glanced over her shoulder at the soldier that was blowing it. "Do you have a plan?" she asked politely.
Captain Blast glanced down at Elva, flashing a brief smile. "Oh, hello there, girly," he said as he ran at top speed. "You're here to help, you say? Well, if you could find a way to get these bloody shackles off me hands, that would be quite agreeable!" He was headed straight for an alleyway that led out of the square into a main street, but suddenly eight troops came running up the alley. Four held swords and four were vigorously loading their muskets. "Stop in the name of the king!" one of them shouted. "Well, ain't this grand?" Captain Blast commented, rolling his eyes. He skidded to a stop and turned to Elva. "Be a dear and take out these chaps for me, won't you?"
Elva looked at Captain Blast and frowned, unsure how she could take out eight flipping soldiers all on her own. Hoping that some of the other pirates from the square would join them soon, Elva sent up a silent prayer and crouched, throwing her axe at the closest soldier with deadly aim. The moment the axe left her fingers, Elva whispered fiercely, "Spirit, spirit, come to me!" A sparkling gray cloud appeared in mid-air and clung to the handle of Elva's axe as it flew through the air. The spirit made a shrill whistling noise as it guided the axe, following Elva's unspoken command to make the axe bash through the soldier's heads, one by one. The axe would probably lose momentum at some point, but Elva hoped it would at least take out two or three soldiers before that happened.
Asara was about to sigh but made a mental note not to. Each was a precious gasp of air which could be used shouting at people later. No, now was the time for a peaceful brawl between her and her guards as she drew her rapier and dagger, setting the rifle on her back. She spotted the guards aiming at the two and charged into the side of them, throwing all her force and momentum into her shoulder. Just before she reached them she changed again, leaping so her knee was level with the soldier's head and had her blade extended towards the seconds shoulder, trying to slip it between a gap in his ribs. She just hoped nobody was looking.
Cephilia ran as the stage began to come down. She grabbed Mr. Ice Hands by the collar and hauled him out with her, just before the whole structure toppled over. He seemed like the kind of guy who could handle himself, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he somehow got crushed under the stage she’d brought down on their heads. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t such a good idea. But, hey, it worked didn’t it? She was trying to think like a pirate and wrecking things seemed like something a pirate would do. “Sorry,” Cephilia said before running off again, leaving the man behind. As she pursued the fleeing Captain Blast, she hastily reeled in her chain sword and sheathed it. She needed her hands free and ready for anything. Numerous heists had taught her the escape was always the hardest part; neither she nor Captain Blast were safe yet. She was breathing hard as she ran after the captain. Too much armor... slowing me down... She usually had a horse stowed somewhere for a fast getaway. Cephilia never had to run this much. Running is for commoners, she told herself and that thought gave her a second wind. Her legs pumped a little harder. She was running for the common-folk. Their cries for help empowered her. She caught up to Captain Blast and ran right past him and the girl. “Cover your eyes. When I say go, we go,” she whispered and hoped they got the message. “Halt, slaves of an unjust king!” Cephilia said to the soldiers as she boldly placed herself between them and Captain Blast and the girl. “The Lord has given me this right hand to strike down injustice wherever it raises its ugly head!” She held up her right hand, clad in red plate armor… while her left hand slipped behind her back. She twisted her wrist in just the right way to select the next gun barrel on her gauntlet. I hope it’s the right one… oh, God, I hope it’s the right one… She couldn’t remember if she’d loaded the flashbang in the third barrel or the fourth one. Or was it the fifth? The soldiers were staring at this red-garbed lunatic, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Cephilia balled her fists, shut her eyes, and slammed her knuckles together. There was a loud bang and a flash of white. The soldiers howled and covered their eyes, but the damage was already done. They’d be seeing stars for at least a minute or two. “Go!” Cephilia said.
"Oh you bit." Was all Asara managed to get out before the flash bang went off, her aim being thrown and instead she smashed into one of the guards, before spiraling to the floor and covering her eyes. This. This was exactly what she was talking about. She tried to help by killing people, and what was the result. Practically blind. A sharp pain was sent spiraling through her as she landed on the ball of her foot before landing on her back, bouncing before turning into a roll that only stopped when her arm smashed into a wall causing her to hiss. She managed to spot a red shape down the street, the one who had caused the flash and spoke like some fool out a children's tale. Asara decided she disliked the shape, and planned on killing it someday, now though, she had other work to do. She attempted to pull herself to her feet, before falling to the ground again and deciding that it wasn't going to work. "You, burgundy bumble fuck, help me."
Red Eye grinned, taking a glance around at the square as people slipped, fought, and scrabbled over the wet cobblestones. Now this was his kind of party. His ice patch hadn't spread far enough from the ruined stage to inconvenience more than a handful of the nearest brawlers, but it clearly hadn't been necessary. Taking down the stage had been a particularly impressive gesture, as had that move by whoever had scattered the coins. So much chaos in the same place. And it wasn't even his birthday. That woman in red had surprised him, the way she'd taken down the stage. He hadn't even noticed her presence before that crack at the beam. Served him right for getting so wrapped up in the task of signalling Blast. But then again, he rather liked surprises. Besides, she'd technically saved his life, and that didn't happen often. He maneuvered quickly through the crowd towards the alley Blast and the woman in red seemed to have disappeared down, dodging, ducking, weaving, and treading on the backs of those who were positioned a little too close to the ground. That horn blast was going to make things a lot more difficult very quickly. Best to move fast. He dodged a swearing young woman clearly in the mood to kill someone, hopped from the back of a sprawling merchant to the shoulders of a stumbling guard, and leapt. His hands caught the edge of a low roof, and though they slipped a little on the wet tiles he was able to hoist himself up and run along without much trouble. Slick and icy surfaces were no stranger to him, after all. He ran along the tightly packed roofs, leaping and occasionally skidding as he raced to catch up with Blast. For a moment, it seemed his detour onto the rooftops had led him in completely the wrong direction. Then, from an alley almost directly beneath him, there was a brilliant flash followed by angry shouts. He darted towards it. Even if it wasn't the Captain, it certainly sounded fun. Peering below, he saw an alley filled mostly with dazed soldiers at one end and three or four people at the other, the woman in red and Captain Blast among them. The perfect time to make an entrance. Drawing his cutlass, he leapt from the roof, landing heavily on a couple of the soldiers. With a slash and a leap he cut the throat of a third before landing next to the still manacled Blast. "Captain," Red Eye said with a nod and a grin. Catching the chain of the cuffs between his free hand, he froze it solid. The metal creaked and shrank violently, turning brittle. With one quick slash it was easily shattered. Red Eye drew his pistol, turning back to face the dizzied soldiers. Throwing a wide grin back towards the Captain and the others, he charged into the fray.
"You, burgundy bumble fuck, help me," a voice said. Cephilia wheeled around to see a young woman caught amidst the blinded guards. “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath. She hadn’t even seen the girl there. That was the problem with relying on chaos as an escape plan: there were always casualties. A little voice in her head said ‘leave her.’ Common sense said the same. But Cephilia wasn’t that type of person. What use was the Lost Treasure if she had to give up everything she stood for to get it? That money could do a lot of good, but not if she forfeited her conscience along the way. Cephilia was about to draw her sword and charge in when a man suddenly dropped from the roof and killed one of the dazed soldiers almost instantly. It was the eye-patched, ice-wielding fellow she’d nearly dropped a stage on. So, taking a moment to rescue him had been well worth the effort. And so will saving this woman, Cephilia thought as she folded back her big red hood so they could see her face. No more hiding. These were her people now -- her crew -- and no one gets left behind. She would show them she could be a pirate without being a scumbag. Cephilia quickly helped the girl up and supported her. “We need to keep moving, fast,” she said to the others… which seemed a rather ironic thing to say while supporting a woman who appeared to have a sprained ankle. She wasn’t looking very pirate-y right now. “Where’s your ship?” she said to Blast. “Your crew hasn’t come to your rescue?” Maybe some of these people were his crew…
