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 Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2011 8:21 pm
Land of Damnation A long time ago, in a land far away, there was said to be an Island.
An Island surrounded by a vast ocean. Where time itself seems to stand still.
An Island with only one way in and no known way out.
The Island was beautiful to behold at a distance, bountiful with plenty of food and shelter, in perfect harmony with itself and the waters coiling around it.
But up close it was a thing of horror.
Filled with monsters and supernatural creatures of all kinds,
as well as unnatural conditions not found on any normal Island,
it is as though the Island itself is alive with an energy that hungers
for the pain and suffering of anyone who sets foot on its shores.
How people wind up on this land is unknown, and how,
if and when they leave is uncertain.
The only thing known for sure is that the Land of Eventide is not a
place to be taken lightly, nor a place for the weak of mind.
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Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2011 10:18 pm
Characters In The Roleplay
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo // Arthur Kirkland
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Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2011 11:19 pm
Gunpowder, and Burning wood. If there were two scents in the entirety of the world that made the Spaniard Sick, it was the smell of Gunpowder and Burning Wood. The Smell was all around him now. Thick as treacle, billows of black smoke rising into the air. Both from cannons, and fires being set alight by black powder from dozens of firearms.
A Pair of Boats--No, Ships. Each Best Described as Pirate Ships, Even if the Captain Leading one of the two would never Own up to such a thing. It had been about an Hour Since the attack had Started. Blood Colored the decks below. Rain, pouring down in torrents did little to wash the dashes of violent red away from the wood. Bodies of men--both from the Brown-haired man's Crew, as well as the Blonde's--Lay dying or already dead. Scattered on both ships, or even in the sloshing waters below. Men Screaming as they were thrown--or shot--Overboard. The sounds drowned out by the churning, unforgiving waves.
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, The Captain of the Hermoso Doncella, Was growing tired of this. Locked in Battle with a Man He Only knew too Well--A Battle that was going to end for both of them. Drawing his Long, curved cutlass from his side, the Olive-skinned man Called Out. Loud, Despite the rain, Thundering against the Burning and Crackling wood of both Ships. The Man's Last name. A Name Likely known throughout these Waters. "KIRKLAND!" His Voice Resounded, a Crack of Lightning followed soon after. "Come Out From Wherever juu are Hiding, Mi Rìval, And Fight Mì, Mano-a-Mano!" A Captain May Have to take care of his own Work, when One's Men were not doing a good enough job. But that wasn't the only Problem here. The Longer the Rival Crews Fought on, the Worse the Storm Overhead seemed to get. Many a Ship Lost its bearings on the sea--never to return to shore.
Fighting in the middle of one, Twice as Deadly. If it did not end soon, Win or no Win...
Neither ship would Likely meet the shoreline. Meeting a Dark, and Quiet end in the Middle of the Atlantic Ocean, never to be seen again.
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 8:40 pm
It was truly the kind of excitement that he lived for. In the life of Captain Arthur Kirkland, nothing compared to the rush in his mind and heart as the deck of his beloved ship Victoria’s Revenge heaved beneath his feet, rising so easily over the swelling waves. He could taste the salt on his lips, feel the near-gale through his hair, pushing on his body, threatening to drive him overboard. The sea was a cruel and wild mistress, but he loved her so dearly that he would never take another.
When he had spotted the Spanish captain’s ship rearing her head over the horizon he had thought that all of his lucky days had come at once. He had been waiting for such a long time to take his revenge for the sinking of his last ship, the older sister to the one he now sailed in, and although this one was superior in every respect he had still not forgiven the loss of her predecessor. Arthur was a pirate. Once a respected privateer, he had turned from the service of king and country to serve his own desires and moral system. Tired by the constraints that had been placed upon him, he had been a hunted man ever since, wanted for many things though treason was no doubt the most pressing, but to the frustration of more than one country’s royal guard he had proven a very difficult man to catch.
Now, he stood in his private quarters, a young olive-skinned man dead at his feet. He wrinkled his nose, prodding at the corpse with his foot. “You might have fled outside before you let me kill you,” he muttered. “I’m never going to get this blood out of the carpet.” The rocking of the ship, increasing as the minutes ticked by, barely fazed him, his head jerking up, eyes shaded by the brim of his hat and a wild grin breaking dark on his face as he heard that voice.
“Carriedo…” he whispered, heading to the doorway – the door long since knocked from its hinges – and out onto the deck. “You do know how to make a visit interesting,” the blonde man said as he approached, fingers almost lax around the sword held in them, the wind not stealing the hat from his head no matter how strongly it blew. “Though, I take offence at the implication that I was hiding from you. Perhaps you simply need to wait your turn.” He strolled forwards, pausing as a man fell from the rigging and landed in front of him, blood spreading from the split in his scalp caused by the impact. Letting out a low ‘tch’ sound, he stepped over the prone body and approached the other captain, that grin still on his face. “I have missed hearing you scream my name, sweetheart…”
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rule_this_britannia Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 11:08 pm
Antonio also lived for this sort of excitement. On the high seas and Raiding other ships, Finding Out about passenger and cargo ships, when they would leave port and what route they would take. Only to force his crew, as well as himself, on board to take whatever valuables there were. Even going so far as finding island settlements and invading, taking the land in name of his own following, chasing anyone else out. He honestly didn't know what he preferred, land or sea, but the Sea was most certainly a place where he felt home.
Another crack of lighting flared overhead, casting long, detailed shadows of the Ship's Mast, the Still-fighting bodies of Men on both Decks, as well as the fallen. the color of blood flashing a bright reddish color as it drained from growing-cold corpses, the smell of sparks filling the air. Any closer, and that bolt of lightning would have rended one of the ships in half. As Cruel as the ocean could be, the sky certainly didn't hold back, either.
After this Battle, the Brown-haired captain knew--he would likely have to recruit another full crew of men. Save for a few. he could still see the Silhouettes of a few of his men, Fighting on. The sound of metal clashing, yelling both in English and a more comfortable Spanish sound in the Air. Even if the Words Being screamed were less than comforting.
Wild green eyes Flashed Up as He Heard that English-Accented Voice, Perhaps the slight, silent whisper of his name followed by something of a backhanded compliment. His Fingers tightening over his own weapon, Axe at his back, a long, Curved Cutlass in his hand. "Mì Turn, Sì? Juu Have a very strange sense of humor, Capìtan Kìrkland." he Sort of Snorted, the Orange color from the fire adding an almost spooky sort of shading to both of the Captain's Faces. He didn't flinch when a Man fell between them, a low groan followed by silence as his lifeblood spilled from his head.
Antonio almost hated that expression on his Rival's Face. A Long grin, almost like that of a Demon or a wild animal. Calling him that 'Endearing' Term with no hidden hint of sarcasm on his voice. Gripping his sword Hard, His Lips Curved down in a sort of Snarl as he Dove at the other, Swinging his cutlass in a low Arc. "It will be Mì who Will have the Pleasure Of Hearing Juu Scream, Today, English Swine." His Voice growled, His hatred clear in his voice. "And It will be Mì Who will Enjoy hearing Juu beg for Mercy Under Mì Foot!!"
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 11:58 pm
He knew, from the moment he stepped out onto the open deck, that it would be a miracle for his ship to survive this. The mainsail mast was ablaze, the sail in tatters, holes torn through the canvas by cannonballs and blades. It would have been upsetting, if it wasn’t also angering. How dare they? How dare they destroy his ship, his beautiful ship that he had spared no expense upon? Arthur treated his ships like most men would treat their women. Like princesses, like special and rare objects worthy of his devotion.
When this was over, assuming he was able to limp back to the nearest port, he would undoubtedly find men willing to join him. The Kirkland name was infamous, and as a result he would always have his pick of the best. For now, however, his attention was entirely upon the man in front of him, the man looking at him with such hatred that it made his heart skip for glee in his chest. “I was not trying to amuse you,” he replied, tightening his grip on his sword and bringing it up to block that low swing. He pushed, then quickly closed the distance, moving for another blow. “And, really, darling, I don’t beg for anyone. Let alone y-”
BOOM.
Between them, lightning hit the deck. Arthur felt the strength of it buzz over every inch of his skin, his eyes blinded by the white flash and his ears deafened by the noise as he fell back. He didn’t hit the wood below him, though his mind hardly registered the fact, but he kept falling, further than it would have taken to hit the water had he fallen overboard, and all he could see was white, the ringing in his ears almost painful.
The man didn’t know if he had passed out or simply fainted, though he wouldn’t admit to the indignity of either. He stirred and felt several familiar sensations at once. The first was warm sunshine on his face. The second, the feel of sand under his fingers. The third, gentle waves lapping against him. Coughing, he rolled over and forced his eyes open, squinting against the sudden, almost otherworldly blue of the sky above him. Grunting, he reached up and snapped his eye patch off, tossing it aside and adjusting to the perpetually fuzzy vision of his right eye as his left attempted to compensate for it. Everything hurt, and slowly, he sat up, a deep frown on his face as he took in the particulars of his location.
“Well,” he muttered. “This is rather cliché.”
A beach. He could see cliffs in the distance and a forest nearby, and everything seemed completely untouched. There wasn’t a single disturbance in the sand save for the ones he had made. Arthur groaned, a sudden sharp pain in his head denying him any further thought save for the fact that he had to find some clean water. For now, he swiped his hand through a wave and rubbed the moisture against his lips, and then slowly stood. His clothes were sodden, weighting him down and his coat slid easily from his shoulders. His boots were next, then his trousers rolled up to just below his knees. He pushed up his shirt sleeves, picking up his coat and boots and heading towards the shade of the nearby cliffs and trees.
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rule_this_britannia Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2011 2:44 am
The Spanish Pirate had little attention, Right now, for the fact that his ship was in a mess much the same as the English Pirate's. He would likely get pissed about it later, having to sink more money on fixing it, or even having to commission a new one before he could sail again. He would, of course, Blame it on the Blonde. And curse his name even louder for it. Ever since meeting this man--he had only brought his life hell. It didn't make his life easier, when many a man knew that the Spaniard had many run-ins with this Particular, well-known captain. It made Recruiting new men hard sometimes--as No-one wanted to Die by the Englishman's hands.
He Bristled again as the man's Sword Clashed Violently against his own. Sparks Flying and the loud sound Echoing loud despite the rain. His own Body alight with Adrenaline. As Much of a Pain as this Man was--he Would never admit exactly how much he looked forward to a good fight with him. Maybe one Day--He Could cut him down and Keep his head as a trophy. That would Certainly Be A Day he would mark on his Calendar until the day he met his own end. And he was sure His Rival felt the same when it came to the Spaniard. "Sì? Juu do not?" the Olive-skinned man grinned, a Bit of a Feral look in his eye. "Not For Anyone? Not Even When Jur Life Is--"
The Crack of Lightning that Came Between them Silenced the Spaniard as well. Feeling like his skin was on fire, a ringing in his ears unlike anything he'd ever felt. He Fought to keep ahold of his sword, one eye cracking open and seeing nothing. His Head spun, a dizzy feeling unlike anything he'd ever Felt before came over him. And Before he knew it, he could see nor feel anything. Falling, perhaps, spinning. Extremities numb and fingertips feeling like they were freezing. He Supposed he had fallen into the water. And was likely drowning.
The First breath of Air Was like Salvation in his lungs. a Loud, Gasping sound as his mouth opened wide, turning on his side to throw up a lungful of water--but nothing came out. A Short, Dry heave, followed by an almost hissing sound. That dizzy feeling was still there--but slowly, the feeling of sunlight on darkened skin was starting to flood over him. Opening his eyes--the movement almost painful as whiteness flooded the black. Causing him to slam them shut again. Much like the Englishman--who was a few feet away from him, but having not yet noticed his presence--Every inch of his body HURT. Like he was actually hit by lightning, or had drowned. Only to come back to life. a hand on His Stomach as he gave another dry heave. His Face Pressed into Gritty, Brown-Black Sand. His Hat off to his side, feather ruined by the seawater and sand washing over most of the piece of clothing.
After a Long moment, the Spaniard Pushed himself to a Sitting Position. Fingers Moving, slowly, Getting feeling back into them before Looking around. His Vision a Little Blurred, but getting better as moments passed. Fingers moved to grip his Hat, Pulling it from where it was Half-Buried in sand. Shaking the grit from it, Fluffing out the Feather a little uselessly before pushing it back onto his head. Looking up as he Heard someone Moving. Malachite green eyes flashing wide as he Realized...
The Man Walking Away From the Water's Edge now--of all people to Wash up on Shore Next to...
"Tch. Is Just Boss Carriedo's Luck to Wind up Washed ashore with Such Bad Company." he Shot at the man Rudely, Moving to stand. Shaking sand and water out of his Long coat, before removing the thing and simply slinging it over his shoulder. If the Blonde moved to attack him, His hand Would go to His Side where--
Fingers Patted his hip. No Sword. Turned to look down by his feet. His Back, around the shoreline... His Old Axe, a Family Heirloom... Gone, as well. A Look of shock and Agitation on his face. Had... he lost it when he, and the Englishman, apparently, Fell Overboard?
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Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 5:11 pm
Arthur was not quite so disappointed at the loss of his weapons, though he would have found them useful. He assumed they’d been lost when he fell from the ship… At least… he thought he had fallen from the ship. His memory was still fuzzy on exactly what had happened between meeting Carriedo on the deck and waking up with a mouthful of grit. He was, however, a little put out over the loss of his hat. Somehow, all of this was that Spanish b*****d’s fault and when they finally got back to civilisation he’d find some way to see him hang while saving his own neck in the meantime. Ever since he had first appeared, Antonio Carriedo had been making Arthur’s life difficult. This was an exaggeration of course but it seemed to Arthur that the man always managed to turn up when it was the most inconvenient and now look where they were. He could only hope this place wasn’t an island so he wouldn’t be stuck here with the man until he could be picked up.
When he’d heard that sound, the undeniable sound of somebody dry-heaving, just behind him, he had almost let out a curse to whatever cruel Fate had thought that this would be amusing. Though, he had quickly caught himself, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that he was irritated by his presence. Why he hadn’t seen the man in the first place could be attributed to the almost complete blindness in his right eye, the one usually covered by the patch now left behind him in the sand, something that had been caused by the use of an astrolabe over the many years he had spent at sea. He could still use it to navigate, but the sight in it had been irreparably damaged.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to know good company if it was doing a Venetian Waltz in front of you, Spaniard,” he retorted as he continued to walk away, heading for the blessedly cool looking patch of shade at the foot of the cliffs a short walk away. What he was truly trying to do was to not how just how disturbed he was by this turn of events. The life of a pirate, while dangerous, was an easy one and it rarely happened that something so utterly unexplainable occurred. If he had been thrown overboard he should have drowned – Arthur couldn’t swim, as most pirates couldn’t – and if their ships had run aground there should be some sign of them nearby, anything, even just a pile of driftwood thrown up by the tide. He would have to wait until nightfall before he could see anything in the sky to judge his position, and until then the main concern was finding food and water to last the day.
It looked to be a particularly lush island, at least, so there would be no shortage of either. Although, there may also be no shortage of poisonous creatures and dangerous plant life so he would have to be careful. Reaching the shade, he sat down and leaned back against the warm stone, resting his head against it. He couldn’t understand why he felt so tired, but even sitting here it was as if the strength was being drawn out of him. Perhaps he was dreaming, or worse, perhaps he’d died and this was the good Lord’s idea of hell. Being stuck on an island forever with Antonio Carriedo certainly sounded like hell to Arthur.
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rule_this_britannia Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 6:30 pm
Antonio was pissed. If only because that Axe had been a priceless piece that had been in his family for years. He had vowed to use it only when it was needed--and to take care of it as if it were his firstborn. And he had been doing such, of course. And now it was gone. it could be anywhere. The bottom of the sea, in the hands of a lowly English Pirate who had looted it off him when he fell off the boat... anywhere. Unlike his hat, it wasn't buried somewhere in the sand, and there was little to no sign of anything else in the sand, either. Looking down as a small crab skuttled over his foot, noting that his shoes were likely soaked through and ruined. Another low, Spanish Curse Escaping past normally smiling lips.
Moving away enough from the water, but not quite to the shade as Arthur seemed to have gone, (He had darker skin and was far more used to the Hot weather, like this, and it honestly didn't bother him.) the man sat down. Pulling the little satchel of items from where it had, thankfully, still been tied to his hip. opening up the sopping wet thing, and pulling out its contents. A Small, brass cross laid down gingerly in the sand. A Bible, soaked through. The Pages falling apart and the hand-written words ruined. He Sighed. Sad that it had been destroyed. A Compass, he quickly pulled out, holding it up--
It was soaked through with water. The Face of it smashed. Utterly unusable. Another frown as he tossed it in the sand with the bible.
He turned his head when Arthur Spoke up again, fingers pulling out a few coins, Ones he had not spent if only because he did not know their worth. "Aaah, if Good Company were to Do Such a Complicated Dance in front of the Boss, he would be sure to take notice, Mì Amìgo." The Spaniard Shot a sort of Cocky, snarking smile at the man behind him. "
"But I am thinking that. someone as untame and brash as juu would no have the Skill, grace, or capacity to pull off such a thing, Sì?" Funny, in a situation where both of their Lives could be in danger. They still couldn't keep from insulting one another. Then again. Anything else would likely seem uncomfortable or weird.
Antonio shook the bag out, a few more bits of wet, soggy paper falling into the sand. His eyes blurring a little as he felt, rather suddenly, somewhat tired. Sure, he'd just been washed up on shore. But... It was almost a draining, tired feeling that one got when they had been working too hard. Alien. Certainly not a feeling he liked. A Hand Moving up onto his forehead, pressing against his temple. Looking up when he heard a small splash from the water not too far ahead of him. A Fin was poking up out of it. Only to flick out of sight as quickly as he'd caught it.
Sharks, he figured. Well. Looked like swimming to get off the Island Wasn't an Option. Oh Well.
He was a Piss-poor swimmer anyway.
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 8:19 pm
The English pirate simply shot the other man a flat, unfriendly look and then closed his eyes again. “And you would know all about my level of skill, wouldn’t you?” he taunted, a smirk curving his lips for a moment. Arthur had been a privateer, and a gentleman, and of course if the situation required it he could be as charming as the next person. He knew how to dance, he could sing, play the piano or violin if he felt the need to, and he hadn’t learned all of his sword tricks through clashes with fellow pirates. If he felt the need he could give the Spaniard a run for his money on any of those things, but as it was, he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he’d provoked Arthur into believing he had to prove himself.
“I was not always a pirate, unlike some.” His left eye cracked open, evergreen gaze fixed to the back of the other man’s head. “But you would not recognise one of high breeding from a common whore.” As easily as the insults came into his mind it was almost an effort to get them out, feeling more exhausted the longer he sat there. It was as if something in the air was sapping at his strength. Just for a moment, he felt himself drift, almost falling asleep before the realisation of it snapped him back to awareness and he stood quickly, his head cocked to one side, listening for the sound of running water above the steady wash of the waves.
It was only then that he realised, he couldn’t hear anything but the waves. Despite the obvious thickness and health of the forest nearby he couldn’t hear a single bird, no animals, not a single sign of life. “Curious,” he muttered to himself, frowning and leaving his coat and boots behind as he made his way to the tree line. That weary feeling hadn’t left him, if anything it was getting worse, but it was easier to ignore when he was standing. As he reached the forest he leaned against a tree and rubbed his fingertips over the bark. It felt real enough, and the faint twinge as a splinter embedded itself in his finger certainly felt real. He could only assume that he wasn’t dreaming, but if this wasn’t a dream then it was certainly a strange reality.
He moved back to where his coat was laid out and drying on the sand, and fished into one of the pockets, his fingers closing around a circular metal object. His own compass, and apparently undamaged by whatever had happened to land them here. Drawing it out he flicked his eyes down to the needle, then frowned, watching as it span uselessly from one direction to the next. Letting out an irritated sound, he snapped it closed and crouched to rifle through the rest of his pockets, feeling at the fabric and finding it already almost dry.
“I don’t suppose that you have any idea at all about how we got here,” he said then, reasoning that if Carriedo was the only person here it made little sense for them to be at each other’s throats until it became absolutely necessary. Even if this entire thing was the Spaniard’s fault. Somehow.
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rule_this_britannia Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2011 5:52 am
The Flat, unfriendly look Arthur shot him really didn`t make the Spaniard bat an eye. It was a change, sure, from the usual glare of hatred or Grin of self-assurance the currently hatless Pirate captain had for him. He didn`t REALLY know anything about the man’s ‘Level of Skill’ Save for his Navigating, Leadership, and, of course, his fighting skill. But. that was really all he felt he NEEDED to know. After all. They were Rivals on the sea. It wasn’t like he was ever going to sit down and have a chat with the man over a nice cup of English tea or something about each other’s hobbies. No. As Much as Arthur was able to do all those things, he kind of didn’t need to hear about them.
“No, Juu were not?” He snorted, Wringing out a sleeve of his long and cumbersome pirate’s jacket, not turning his head to acknowledge that the man was looking at him. A bit of a twitch going in his shoulders as the man SUGGESTED that he wouldn’t recognise proper breeding or.. something. Turning and throwing the ruined, but still-heavy cover at the British Man. “Mi Madre was a Saint, I Hope Juu know.” He sort of snarled at the man through gritted teeth. Common whore and High breeding indeed. The man certainly didn’t have a silver tongue. Or at the very least, he wasn’t making a use of it right now.
Continuing to wring the water out of his coat, he also felt that sort of Drowsy-ing, drifting feeling move between his ears. And though he’d just woken up on shore, right next to that b*****d Englishman, he felt like passing out again. But not here. No. Not in the sun, by the water. There was another splash from the water. And the... large shark. He supposed. Was getting a little closer. But a shark would not beach itself even for a snack like the Spaniard. No. It was hungry. Not stupid. But Arthur was right. Pausing a moment, the Spaniard... realized that there wasn’t a single calling of a gull. No chirping of wildlife from the forest behind them. No. There was just that fin poking out of the water, spinning in slow circles. Moving closer with every few moments that passed.
His own Compass had been ruined but, when the other questioned him on how they’d gotten there, Antonio stood. Ruffling his hair with one hand. Giving him a confused look. “How Did We Get here? That is an awful stupid question, Capitan Kirkland.” He sort of snorted. “Last I Remember, we got knocked by that bolt of lightning. We Were close to the edge of the boat, I Would no be surprised if the shock or tremor it caused threw us both overboard. The gods smiled on us and we did no drown... but wound up shipwrecked.” He waved a hand at the shore. An Island, likely in the middle of no-where with no inhabitants.
...Admittedly. the closer Arthur moved to him, the less tired he felt. It was almost odd, that. but he didn’t bring any attention to it, either.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2011 1:03 pm
That was all that Antonio needed to know, for the time being, but Arthur’s ‘skills’ extended far beyond what he needed to use as a pirate. Time would tell if any of those skills would become useful in the future, but for now, survival was certainly the most important thing. This place didn’t look that bad, save for the steadily growing feeling in the English pirate’s gut that something was seriously out of place. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, though what the Spaniard said jogged him from his thoughts and he snorted, shaking his head. “And your mother must have been terribly proud of you, captain,” he sneered. Silver tongue indeed. Such things were wasted on people like Antonio Carriedo.
His own mother was dead. She had lived long enough to see him become one of the king’s privateers, but not long enough to see him become a pirate. That was enough for him. As much of a b*****d as he could be he did have a heart, and he wouldn’t have wished for his mother to see him become an outlaw. She had died proud of him, and he could take that to his grave. This, if conditions remained as they were, seemed to be the most likely outcome of this little escapade. He had rather hoped to hold Death off for a little longer, but if it was to be his fate then he wasn’t going to run from it. No, he’d prefer to give it the slip and stab it in the back once it thought he was gone.
He had been to a few places in his life that had made his compass spin like that, and it had never been a very rewarding venture. It was something in the air or in the ground, he thought, that made such things happen, though he had never been a man of science even if he was a man of good breeding and could no more have explained how a compass worked than he could have counted all the stars in the sky. That it did work was enough, and now it didn’t, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to get out of here.
Glancing out to sea he spotted the fin that the Spaniard had been watching, his eyes narrowing as he watched it move back and forth, slowly making its way closer to shore. Something… something wasn’t right, here. “Oi, Carriedo,” he said, a tiny frown twitching his eyebrows together for just a moment. He could see the shadow beneath the water, and although his experience of sharks had only been small, he knew enough to realise that the shape under the surface was certainly not like any kind of shark he’d ever seen. The Englishman took a step back, almost uncertainly, his gut telling him, screaming at him to turn tail and run, though the more curious part of him wanting to know exactly what he was turning his back on before he did it.
“Carriedo,” he said again, dropping his voice a little and stepping back once again. “… You see that, yes? What… what is that?”
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rule_this_britannia Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2011 5:33 pm
The feeling wasn`t lost on the Spaniard. He wasn`t saying anything. But. the more time that passed between them, sitting and standing on the far-too quiet shoreline. His glare intensified a little when the other mentioned his mother again, bristling. His mother was likely still Alive, but it was also fully possible that the woman had little to no Idea what the Spaniard did for a living. He did send her letters every now and again, with little tokens of his love. He was a rather well-known pirate, yes, but. She didn`t need to know that. and if she did know... well. She never said anything in the letters he received back from her.
His own compass broken, the Spaniard would definitely not like the look of it, were it doing the same thing Arthur’s was. Spinning like a top and not being able to define any real direction.... The man might be a little more nervous than he appeared. He was naturally easy-going, of course. And being on what looked like a deserted island didn’t make any difference to that. He Sighed Gently, Fixing his wet, uncomfortable hat on his head. “What mi Mother is feeling or no about Mi life choice is no Your concern, Amigo.” He said with SUCH a smile, waving a hand.
He looked up again as there was a short sort of splash. From the sealine. That... fin. Once again, getting closer. The other’s thoughts were right. The thing DIDN’T look like a normal shark. There was another, second fin behind the first. And the closer it got...
“...Si. I see that. It is looking like a shark, no? But...”
And that was about as far as the Spaniard got as the thing suddenly broke the surface of the water. Reaching the shallows enough to breach itself—propelling itself forward not with a tail or fins. But with four, strong, muscled legs. The thing—whatever it was. looked like that of a large wildcat. But with fins along its sides and back. like that of a shark. Bristling, black fur rising along it’s body as it shook the water from its hide. Baring yellow, feline fangs. Eyes glowing a fierce yellow as they opened. Having shut via what looked like a second eyelid, keeping the salt water from stinging.
A feeling that the Spaniard wasn’t used to bubbled up in his stomach. Fear. Hairs on the back of his neck standing on ******** end as the thing let out a snarl. It looked like it was GRINNING. Long, dangerous-looking claws scraping against the sand. Taking a step backward, the Spaniard let out a short gasp. It looked hungry. And it certainly didn’t look too against the idea of two Pirate snacks, right about now. “Dios Mio,” the Spaniard managed, before turning on the heels of his bare feet. And booking it in the opposite direction. “I do no know about you, Amigo. But Boss Antonio is getting the hell out of here before He Becomes food!!”
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2011 5:07 pm
It had been a long time since Arthur had last been stuck on an island and it hadn’t lasted long, a trading ship picking him up only a few days later. He had a feeling, though, that this time he wouldn’t be so lucky. Fate did so like to toy with mortals and there could hardly be many more entertaining things than placing two mortal enemies on an inescapable island and seeing what would happen. He supposed that he would just have to make the best of it, as well as he could. Another person meant another pair of eyes, after all, though he couldn’t reliably say that the Spaniard’s sight was any better than his own.
Arthur kept his eyes on that… thing… closing in on the shoreline as the Spaniard voiced his reply to the question posed, damn near falling over when it burst out of the water. He had never seen anything like that, his eyes wide and fear clearly written in them as he stared at it. The English pirate was used to fear. Fear was something that you could take and use to drive you, but this… this wasn’t that kind of fear. What he felt now was his legs weakening and his heart racing in his chest, making him light headed. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and it was only Antonio’s voice that snapped him out of it, his sodden boots dropping from his hand and landing with a thud by his feet.
It would be the first thing that he had ever agreed with the Spanish pirate on, as far as he could remember, as he turned tail and ran, following Antonio towards the tree line. He was rather glad, at that point, that he had taken his shoes off, being rather a fast runner when he wasn’t being weighted down by several pounds of sodden leather. Though, he wasn’t letting go of his coat, pulling it on as he ran. Any moment he expected the jaws of that abomination to close on the backs of his legs, but it didn’t happen, and he couldn’t get that demonic grin on the thing’s face out of his mind.
The moment they burst through the tree line he knew what he had to do. He made a beeline for the first low-hanging branch he could see, leaping up and grabbing it with both hands, pulling himself up. “Carriedo!” he shouted, listening for the sound of that… creature following them through the undergrowth. “Come on!” Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have cared. Normally, he would have left the man to die, but this wasn’t anything like a normal situation, and he couldn’t say with any amount of certainty how well he would manage in this place if he was alone.
So, with that in mind, he leaned forwards and reached his hand down, with the intention of dragging the Spaniard up after him and onto the tree branch. As much as he might have disliked the man, they were still in the same profession, and there was something to be said about honour amongst thieves.
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rule_this_britannia Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2011 7:46 pm
It likely wouldn't be the first--nor the last--time that Antonio had been deserted in the middle of No-Man's land. He knew how to survive. Get Fresh water and Even Food--But being stranded with someone. Even that someone being an enemy. Was far better than being stranded alone. An Extra man to protect your back, even if he hated you. No Idiot would LET a fellow strandee die. That was like cutting off your own leg. No. You helped each other until you were both safe--and THEN you continued with your blades at each other's throat.
The thing was unlike any creature Antonio had ever seen in his life. Last he checked, Cats didn't live Underwater. And Sharks didn't come up on land. This thing was a horrid concoction of two of those creatures in one--and it sent shivers up the Spanish Pirate's spine. Not much scared the man. But this thing. Definitely was going to give him nightmares the next time he closed his eyes. Relieved as All hell that he'd left his shoes behind in the sand, as the things would likely slow him down at this point, the Spaniard just ran. Into the forest and searching every corner of his mind for SOME WAY to escape from the thing.
His coat and hat were most certainly heavy--but there was no way he was leaving them behind. A little bit Vain, sure, but. A Pirate was prideful in some things. Beside. Once he hit the thicket of Pine and Broad-leaved trees, perhaps the.. THING would stop chasing them.
No such Luck, It seemed. He Could hear the sound of the Demonic-looking Beast moving through the trees. The Snapping sound of Wood as it's rather cumbersome body crashed through the brush, hungry and wanting a Pirate snack. He Was a little behind Arthur now, the English Pirate being Unreasonably Faster than him when He Ran. Looking more than a little shocked when the man Suddenly Grabbed at a tree Branch. Swinging himself up and into the Large, Many-branched hardwood tree. Leaves Suggested it was a sort of Oak tree. Antonio Froze when the man suddenly said his name. Holding a hand out to him.
Seemed like Arthur Understood the same rules that Antonio did when it came to Being stranded alone on an Island. Grabbing his hand and allowing the man to yank him Up into the Huge tree, using his own hands and bared feet to climb higher once the Englishman Had Aided in his ascent. "Gracias, Kirkland. And 'ere I thought for a minute that juu were going to leave mii to be Catshark bait." he grinned a little teasingly as he settled on a high branch, looking down into the brush. He Could see the beast down there. Just catching up. Circling the trunk of the tree. Snarling with a horrid sound before getting up on it's hind legs. Horribly Jagged Claws Digging into the bark of the tree... but unable to climb up. it's body was too large and cumbersome.
Seemed a Part-Cat Part-Shark wasn't suited for climbing trees.
It Circled the base a Few times more. Long, thick tail ended in a shark's fin twitching back and fourth as it looked up at the Pair with glowing yellow eyes.
An Hour Passed, and finally the thing seemed to give up. Sulking away back in the Direction it came. A long, distant splash of water could be heard as the thing made its way back to shore. Likely disappearing into the waves.
"...Somehow I Do no think we are anywhere near the Caribbean anymore, Amigo." he said with a short, exhaling sigh. "I 'ave never seen a beast like THAT before. Dios Mio, Boss thought he was food for sure.."
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