Betrayal
Delmaria whined as Grace brought the needle through the large red gash in his right arm. He sat on the back of her heels in the little hammock between two of the support beams of the ship, as the crew went about their business around them. She was rough in how she treated the wound, but at least she would get the job done. Delmaria swatted at her with his left hand when she nearly dug the sewing thread in to his arm. "Gah, watch it! Do you want to try and make it worse!"
"I'm sure you'd want to deal with this over a lethal infection, captain." She persisted as she made the last, draw out pull of the thread. She neatly tied it and snipped off the small loose end left behind, patting her patchwork lightly in a chipper mood as she jumped off the bed. Delmaria clenched a fist in his right hand - it hurt quite badly, be he would have to manage until they made it to their next destination.
Firesteel came pounding down the steps that led from the deck to the crew's quarters and approached Delmaria. "Tortuga will be in our sights by tomorrow morning, Captain."
Darkskull nodded, reaching back over to the hammock and pulling the clean linen shirt over his torso. "Good. I assume the cutlass is still in t-"
The War Frigate was suddenly rocked by a massive force, as though a thunderous wave had pounded the right side of the boat. Some of the crew lost their footing and slid to the hard, wooden floor, while others managed to grab a hold of a support to keep themselves steady. Delmaria wrapped his left arm around the wooden structure and grasped for dear life, until the ship finally began to level off at a regular plain. As the crew slowly, unsurely scurried to their feet, weary of another quake, Delmaria threw on his golden jacket and jogged across the room, towards the steps, pounding up them eagerly.
As soon as Darkskull popped out of the deck, he turned off to his right, where he was instantly met by a stern kick to the face. His body jerked in to the opposite direction, hitting the side of the opening with a thud, and leaving him dazed and confused. When he realized he had just been hit, he felt a large hand grab at the back of his collar, and a sword unsheathe behind his body. He thought that he was doomed - his body was numb and he was much too in shock to react. His body tensed and tightened, expecting an impact. He heard the blade go up, and begin a swift descent downward. It would be a swift, unintelligible end.
Yet instead of a quick beheading, he felt a great tug at his ankle, thrusting him back down the steps below the deck. His chest hit the stairs, as he was instantly pulled by his feet away from them, his body bouncing down the steps and then across the wood floor. In a final push, he felt his body being thrown across the floor, and his line of vision ended its crazy spiral looking down right at the staircase. He saw as his crew ran to the steps to face the invaders, pulling their blades, but were shot down with powerful and deadly pistol shots to the chest and face. As his crew dropped like a line of cattle walking to the meat grinder, a shadowy figure silhouetted in black jumped down the steps and nearly ran up to Delmaria. His presence was fierce, evil, and maniacal. His body, although unseen, vibrated anger and deviancy, as though he was prepared to kill you in a quick blow if you said one more word.
After a moment of staring at the blank, terrified captain, the figure grabbed at his fencing saber and quickly brought it down, directly in to Delmaria's chest, blood splatting in the air. As his body eased and the final gasps of breath left his lungs, his ears were slowly filled by the shouts, moans, screams, cries and woes of the death and the gone, filling him with a sense of chaos and hopelessness. The figure slowly bended over, as the sounds grew louder and louder, faster and sharper, his eyes losing focus. The face of the figure became light and clear - it was smiling. Delpadros looked down at his dying father and said "I'm not.", plunging his saber back out of the pirate's body and slicing the throat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Delmaria instantly awoke from his day dream. He looked around at his surroundings - the crew was about, chattering and playing card games in the beds and hammocks that danced around the long hall, as Grace at his side sewed up his arm. He jerked away from her, nearly tossing her off the bed, his wound still half-unsown, and the needle and threading swinging side to side down from it. He shouted at the top of his lungs "BROADSIDE STARBORD!"
The crew shut up quickly, all turning their heads in unison to the captain as though he were telling a really bad joke. He just stood there, furious and deadly. "Well!? MOVE!" he commanded again. His booming, threatening voice made them jump, sending them in a run to the cannons at the right side of the ship. They knelt down and did the usual dance with astonishing speed; although they were still unsure whether this was a game, a test, or a fight for survival. The poured in the gunpowder in to the cannon and pushed the lead in with their eccentric rams as fast as they could. As soon as the cannons were aligned and prepared, they all fired with precise precision and ferocity. To their surprise, they heard the splitting of wood.
Delmaria was already across the cabins and jumped up the steps of the ship, not stopping to even look at where he was going. He revealed himself to the daylight, turning off the stairs and drawing the sparkling, gold cutlass with his heavily aching right arm. Yet his adrenaline was spiking too high to even listen to the pain, like he had just seen the future before his eyes. He felt God was giving him a second chance, even though he didn't deserve it.
He watched as the crew of the other ship mistimed the swing over from their ropes of their meager Galleon, which was rocked by the broadside as they swung in mid air. They all hit the deck with a bodily phasing thud, and Darkskull took no hesitation to punish the trespassers. He walked up to the first red-clad buccaneer he could reach and cut the cutlass across his chest, sending him flailing to the wood. While he bleed out, he turned to the next two, kicking one in his pride and sticking the other through the stomach. When he heard pleads of mercy from behind, with the pounding of steps, he spun in a roundhouse and chopped the weeping crew mates over the side of his head, nearly slicing his head in half. Delmaria had gathered so much momentum he nearly sprinted back to the center of the deck as the rest of the crew poured out from their quarters, to watch the bloodshed. Darkskull spun around and saw that in his 30 seconds of rage, he had killed half of the enemy crew, and left one with a very, very unpleasing pain. The other two crew mates, flooded by their comrade's blood, were clinging to the side of the ship, on their knees, shaking. The pirate was readying himself to run at them, but Andrew latched out a quick hand, taking Delmaria out of his bloodlust. When he relaxed his captain, Andrew steadily walked over to the two laughable creatures and asked them, "What is your business here."
One of the pirates was too choked up by his friend's death to answer, so the other, who was only half way through his weeping, slowly stood up. "W-w-we're sor--ry! Please, just don't, just don't, JUST DON'T!" he cried out.
"Easy sea biscuit." Andrew tried to calm him. "We won't be doing any more killing until you tell us why you came here."
The standing man walked forward slightly, like a badly hurt dog. He, like the rest of his crew, was dressed in red and white, shaggy attire, like most of the common freebooters that sailed the seas. His hands were together in a clutch, as he looked down at his feet. "We were sent by the... to... kill..." he tilted his head up, pointing to the battle-ready Delmaria. "To kill him."
Darkskull took a jump forward, and would have continued to go if not his entire crew jump in front of him. The buccaneer was too startled by the simple motion, however, and fell back on to his back. "PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T!"
Sierra turned to him, as she used one of her hands to hold Delmaria back. "My god, either talk like a reasonable person or I'll shoot you just so I don't have to deal with such a miserable sight."
"Please, just don't." He repeated for the third time. "I don't know what the Boss wanted, but all he said was that he wanted you dead as soon as you entered the waters around here.
Delmaria was confused. He had never done anything directly to harm Tortuga as a whole, aside from a few minor misadventures. "Really? Well then, I should have fun dealing with him, won't I?" Delmaria got too close to the shivering man for comfort, nearly breathing on him. He stood there, staring at the little, feeble man for nearly a minute. It was of no purpose, sentimentality, or gain - all he wanted to do was see how long he could make the pirate feel scared beyond belief before he would break down. And just as it seemed certain, the captain turned away, to face his crew. "Mates, help our friends here back on their ship."
And they did just that. The crew took out the dinghies and escorted the buccaneers back to their poorly constructed, nearly destroyed ship. When his crew returned, he leaned over to John and said "Before they can get away, shoot down their masts."
1
Delmaria stepped out on to the sun-drenched fishing dock of Tortuga at high noon, when activity in the port was at it's highest. The sun was just at the top of his view, above the great, tremendous hills that rose in the background on the island. Below them, in to the foreground, the little extension of the dock led to a much broader one, lined with all assortments of crates, barrels, and sailors, unloading their cargo. The dock gave way to the always bustling beach of Tortuga, where pirates and free traders from across the Caribbean came to mingle, bargain, and barter away from the watchful eye of the trading companies that loomed over nearly all other ports. That was one of the many benefits of being a part of the Tortugan society - it wasn't a matter of how wealthy you were, it was a matter of how you were planning to get there. Nothing in this city was run by how much you were to inherit and who your parents were - you had to make a name for yourself the hard way, and those that could do it correctly were rewarded for it.
Delmaria walked down the long dock towards the port, the calm wind giving away to the easy, very comfortable warm temperature of the day. He brushed shoulders with people as they scurried their way to and from their ships, uneager to take a minute out of their all-important lives for manners. Delmaria kept moving, however, and mixed in with the vast amounts of people that partook in all sorts of activities. A fight that had broken out between two scraggly-looking women, dressed up in high wigs and dirty dresses pushed its way over to the pirate captain, who stuck out his arm to prevent the two wenches from coming any closer. He had learned by now that when in Tortuga, be precise, quick, and uninterrupted.
Delmaria made his way out of the bay, and down the main cobblestone street of Tortuga. The French-style quarters let for all sorts of people to look down from the second-story, thin wooden balconies, to eye everything that went below them as they chatted. Small pedestrian stands were scattered at the sides of the street, selling anything from fruit to crudely-shaped weaponry. Every minute some badly-higenined man would come up and try to shove something in the pirate's face, so when he saw somebody who evenly remotely looked like a wayside merchant, he flipped a small silver coin his way and kept on moving.
He finally reached the all familiar center of Tortuga, where he and Jack had carried out their little fight. The large, stone fountain at the center of the large courtyard was the centerpiece of all the commerce and chaos that thrived in the mecca, all sorts of people from all walks of life enjoying themselves in the surrounding taverns, shops, and dance halls. It was quite populated, and brought back to Delmaria many pleasant and unpleasant memories alike, yet he persisted to get done what had to be done. He walked around the dribbling, splashing fountain, past the end buildings of the square, and down the rest of the main street, which only continued the increasing interest of the city. In the distance, his target became clearer and clearer - a large, three story building that ended the main street of the city, with a very grand and enterprising presence. It had very little windows, but a large, open doorway, as if it was beckoning you to come inside. He looked out on to the tall balcony overhanging the entrance, where two figures stood, gazing over the crowd like watchdogs.
Delmaria felt his heart begin to race as he stepped up in to the doorway, walking slowly in. Before him was a large, wood hall, like it was meant to be a dance hall of sorts. All the tables that were meant to fill the room where crowded in to three corners, the one in the far right occupied by a bar. Two tall staircases were parallel at the side of the room, which led up to the walkway directly over his head that led on to the balcony. Across from him was a wide pair of double doors, closed shut. The room was empty, and still - but not the kind that made you feel like you truly were alone. He crept in to the center of the room, when he heard a loud slam from behind.
He turned to see that two red-clad buccaneers, like those that were aboard the ship, were staring him down, their arm now over the closed pair of doors. Over their heads, the two guards that were on the balcony walked forward, to the edge of the walkway, drawing their swords. Delmaria backed up, the pirates looming over them. The two at the doors slowly walked forward, while the others above began making their way to the staircase. Delmaria finally felt his backside hitting against the front of the bar, stopping him. When he found there was no use in trying to run, he began to walk forward. "Gentlemen, must we re-"
"Shut up!" The right man of the pair closest to him barked, quickly drawing his sword, and pointing it at Delmaria.
As they drew ever closer, now only seven meters away, Delmaria sighed. "If you insist. I would have liked to play a game of poker after so long." The pirate whipped out a large, glass wine bottle from behind his back, chucking it at the pirate who had shouted at him, nailing him right in the fact. The glass shattered loudly, leaving small shards and cuts on his face that sent him bleeding to the ground in an unconscious slump. "Oi, bugger doesn't know how to shave." He commented, the other three freebooters in shock.
As they began to charge, Darkskull turned about and jumped over the counter of the bar, scooping up another rum bottle that sat underneath the counter. He popped off the bottle, took a quick swig, and chucked it at the closest pirate, making him jump out of the way in the dodge. That gave him enough time to raise his pistol out from the side of his belt, pulling the trigger as a plume of smoke pushed out, followed by the smothered sound of the led bullet lodging in to the poor lad's right shoulder.
By now the other two had reached the bar, swinging and chopping their swords at Darkskull. The captain jumped to the group behind the bar and began to crawl to the far side, away from the duo. Glass bottles left on the countertop clashed and splattered as their cutlasses menacingly cut through, sending bits and pieces of glass and droplets of liquor in every direction. Delmaria was crawling sporadically as the little fragments hit him, until he finally toppled on to his back and tried to look up to see his assailants.
The crashing and swinging seemed to stop, and eerie moment of silence filling the room. Delmaria was wondering what to do - should he jump up and fight, or try to run? He knew he couldn't overpower the two guards alone, and trying to continue this fight would get him killed. He turned his vision to the ceiling, where, just a little off from the bar above, sat a metal chandelier of candles. A stroke of genius hit him in that moment.
Darkskull swiftly grabbed a full bottle of alcohol next to him, throwing it directly upward with all his might. Just when it looked like it would fall short, hurtling to the ground, it crashed in to the lighting, bouncing it upward. The candles on it toppled over, and any drips of alcohol that hit the flames busted in to fire, falling to the ground like a firestorm. Delmaria got up in a dash and sprinted to the other side of the room as the fire and candles fell, which began to set fire to the two pirates, and the bar. They began shouting and screaming in pain, dropping their swords and running down the room, blasting through the double doors, in to the town, fading off in the distance as their sirens blared.
Darkskull ran over to the door and pulled up one of the large wooden bar tables, setting it up in the handles in such a way that the door refused to open. After jamming it a little to make sure no walkers by could peep in to see what was going on. He turned about, back through the gigantic hall as the flames grew steady in the corner. He walked up to the doors, and slowly grasped the door knob, twisting it and pushing it forward.
He slipped through the small opening in to a lush, red-carpeted room, surrounded in a golden-gilded, white wallpaper. A fixture of fancy couches, chairs and tables formed in a neat living area in the middle of the room, portrayed in white and gold, clashing with a large staircase that rose at the back of the room, and as then nearing the tall wall of glass windows, cut in to two diverging, small flights, which led to walkways that lined the top of the side of the room. His heavy black boots almost sunk in to the easy floor, going forward in a suspicious, defensive stance, his cutlass still waiting in his right hand at his side. And then, the sound of the slamming of feet.
He turned to the right corner at the foot of the room, up where the walkway receded back from behind the wall that hid the rest of it. Two buccaneers ran in, completely unaware that Delmaria was standing in the room, running down the path, bouncing down the plush stairs, and then beginning in a run towards the door behind the pirate, still not noticing him. They were in a speed walk all the way up to the little sitting area, when they saw there was somebody in front of them. They froze, a streak of horror over their face. The two men were lanky, likely more related to pricks of wood than actual human beings. Delmaria locked his vision on them, gripping his sword tighter by the handle as they gazed, unsure of what to do.
Finally, Darkskull watched as one of them slowly wrapped his hand to his side, where his pistol was, as if he thought he could do it in a hidden manner. Instead, Delmaria kicked the large, white couch that had it's back to him forward with a quick lash, and then diving behind it as the guard shakingly drew his gun and shot it, missing by who knows how much. He was afraid as much as his fellow man was, but they both drew their daggers like it was a defense mechanism. They ran up to the couch and dived their blades over it to try and hit something, anything, but it nothing was there. They puzzled at each other before daring to lean over the tossed piece of furniture, only to look down at a blank spot. They backed up, but they hit against something. They turned slowly, as one of them was a dealt a terrible haymaker to the face, knocking him back and on to the floor, without sparing himself from an overdramatic stumble, like his nose bleed was equivalent to losing an eye.
The other looked at Delmaria, who just stood there, dumbfounded. "I'm old, not slow.", he lectured to the guard, before grabbing him by the back of his short brown hair, and throwing his head on to Delmaria's upcoming knee. The pirate jolted back in a crunching smash, twisting to the ground in a quake of pain, agony, and fear of losing his ability to control his bowls.
Delmaria turned away from the two disgraces and flew up the first flight of steps, turning up the one of the right, and then pounding down the wooden hallway, past the doors that lined the walls. The grand living room slinking out of sight behind him, he made his way hurriedly through the maze of sparsely decorated yet elegant walls, pearl shaded walls giving away to black wood framing. The lighting was lacking, and his shadow mixed in well with the darkness - and more than likely, so did the shadows of his attackers.
As Delmaria approached another corner in the corridors, turning left, another of the pirates, now a short, oriental man, jumped out from around the corner in a battle cry, wielding, of all things, a katana. He landed with a direct prowess, cutting the blade across and nailing it in to the corner of the wall. Delmaria jumped back and continued walking backwards as the screaming pirate moved his blade in every which direction, cutting little pieces of the wall and ceiling as he spun, cut, and whirled like a drunken serpent. He slithered and snaked through the hall towards Delmaria, finally cutting the pirate captain with a small paper cut across the forearm. Delmaria dabbed at it with his free hand, while he became increasingly annoying with his assailant.
When he passed a door, Delmaria grabbed the door knob and flung it out before him, causing for the blade to cut right through the middle of the door, Delmaria ducking from its path. Darkskull then slammed the door shut, the sword still lodged in it, and a stunned aggressor felt his lungs deflate as Delmaria delivered an uppercut to his rib cage. In pain, the guard stumbled back, but jumped forward as he grabbed footing, Delmaria blocking his attempted punch with a flexed arm before his temple. As the Chinese pirate's feet hit the ground, Delmaria pulled back his leg and kicked his enemy's leg with such a rocking force that he was swept face first to the ground.
As he grunted in drunken pain, Delmaria picked the pirate up by the collar, and dragged him back to the door with the katana in it. He opened it, stuffed the pirate inside, and slammed it shut, pulling out the katana and then jutting it back in to the door at such an angle that the door would not open. Satisfied, he gathered himself, checked the cut on his arm, which was still bleeding slightly, and slowly continued back down the halls.
He grazed through the rest of the mansion's path with relative ease, except for two patrolling guards that he was able to discharge by tossing them down a recently reached flight of stairs, bringing him up to the third floor. The surroundings became darker and more cramped with each step, until finally, he reached the end of the crusade. A dead end was fixated with a hand-carved, brown wooden door. Two lanterns at the side of it pointed out a crooked sign on the face of it, which read "Boss's Room - Do Not Enter." He ignored the sign, and barged right in.
The room was a rectangle, not as wide as it was long, but not that large at all. It was crammed with decorated, hand carved wooden furniture, draped in maps, globes, and other things common of pirates. Behind a desk that sat at the back of the room were piles upon piles of gold, reaching up five, perhaps six feet in some areas across the back wall. Yet Delmaria had to pay no attention to detail, as he was being attacked upon entry.
A large, burly man, dressed in linen and puffy clothing was coming at him, wearing a large, red admiral's hat with poorly draw markings all over it. His face was covered in no hair, but exotic jewelry, clinging with his exhilarated expression. He carried a massive long sword, which he swung over his head and chopped in to the ground, as Delmaria dodged out of the way. Darkskull kicked his foot up, hitting the captain in the face, as he drew his cutlass. Yet he was not fazed by the kick, and drew his sword back up again for another attack. As he took the blade and swung it powerfully from behind his back, Delmaria dove and tried to stop the sword with his cutlass, but all he got was a push backward, to the floor. He hit the wood panels with a bone-crushing smack, wincing in pain as he looked up to watch the pirate drag himself forward and bring his blade above his head with both hands, preparing to swing down. As it streaked through the air, Delmaria rolled to the side and hit against the wall, just as the sword crunched in to the wood. As the pirate captain struggled to pull his sword out, Delmaria threw his cutlass in a spiral across the room, still laying on the floor, and just cutting the pirate captain right above the knee.
As the man yelled to a kneeling position, Delmaria crawled behind him to where his cutlass was, and stood up, preparing to behead the man. Yet something stopped him - telling him not to do this, that enough blood was on his hands this day. He nodded with it, although it said nothing, and instead, picked up a large book on a bookcase next to him, and sent it crashing down on the defeated pirate, knocking him out in a thud.
Delmaria looked around the room in a sigh. The person he was looking for was not here. He thought that something was not like it seemed - there was something he had overlooked about this whole situation. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to understand, trying to convince the rest of himself that everything was over and done, and that he could go back to his ship for a sound sleep. And just as he verged on that, he noticed something, behind the tall bookcase next to him. A sliver of black lined the side of it, with little cracks coming from it. He went over, and pulled it, toppling it and all the books on it over.
The result, aside from a group of books on the floor, was a large entrance way, dark and dank, only little by a torch that led down a never-ending flight of stone stairs. Cobwebs hung down from the ceiling of the hidden stone passage, showing just how untouched it was - or was it?
Cautiously, Delmaria descended himself in to the darkness, the smell of death and despair filling his nose. The steps were flat and long, leading down far, far from the office he came from. He felt as though he was going deep within the underbelly of Hell, the cramped and stuffy feeling engulfing him. Finally, he saw light at the end of the tunnel - a faint torch fire burning off in the distance. He hurried towards it, banking around the corner at it in to the room.
The room he entered as a small jail, lined on the walls by a few cells. The air was still, and there was barely any light, as rats scampered across the cobbles etched in dirt and grime. He stepped in to the disgusting surroundings, when he heard shouting from the back cell, which was the size of two put together. He jogged lightly past the cells filled with chained skeletons and remains to see what was going on.
The sight was astounding. In the cell, a beautiful woman with long red hair, dressed in loose sailing attire, pushed her captain's hat off her brow as she twisted her hand, which held in it the broken end of a glass bottle. She defended herself against three old, raggedy men, who looked as though they were trying to overpower her. "C'mon you filthy rats, c'm at me!" she taunted at them, her voice doused by a light Irish accent.
Delmaria ran up the cell and took his cutlass to chop off the lock to the cell. The women, startled, jumped a bit, but at the sight of Delmaria, began to grin as she rushed out of it to greet him. "Oh God, at last, salvation! Thank you mate!" she graced to him.
"Pleasure to see you too, Miss..."
She cut him off, raising a hand with a slight smile, kicking the jail cell door behind her closed. "Ah, please. Call me Anne; Anne Bonny, if you want the full glory of it."
2
The two of them walked in to the quiet bar, the dim light hiding their identities. A few of the people in the bar, which wasn't that many, turned their visions about the tips of their hats, but were too careless to see who was walking in, and turned back to their quiet sleeping, drinking, and card playing.
The duo sat down at one of the vacant tables lined with used and empty rum bottles, adjacent from each other. After checking to make sure there wasn't any rum left, Anne leaned over the table to whisper with Delmaria. "I must thank you for helping me back there, truly wasn't too good fer me in my own dungeon." she whispered in a smile.
"Anything for you, Captain." he nodded at her. "Now you need to get to explaining - what was the purpose of all that?"
Bonny leaned back in her chair, recollecting her thoughts, before leaning back over to him. She began to explain:
"It was a few weeks ago, maybe two months, when it started. Some Navy fellas, don't know how, sailed their ship in to port without being picked up, landed, and caused quite a stir down on the beach. They came in peace at first, only using those weapons to protect themselves on the encroaching masses, but they started to call out the names of people - pirates - that they wanted arrested. They fled before they were forced out, or I got heard, but it 'twas enough to get everybody real uncomfortable.
"A few days after, I got word from some 'o me men that someone spotted a few Navy out in the jungle, settin' up some sort of camp. They didn't see much, so I got a few mates to head out and see what was up; sure enough, they were right. We didn't do anything - not yet, 'least.
"They started coming in to town and bossin' everybody around, just outta the blue. Most of the people didn't take too kindly, but what were we gonna do? Anybody they could find with a warrant on their heads was dragged away, and there was nothing we could do about it.
"A month went by an' I finally thought this was gonna simmer - at least, I did. I woke up one morning to find these Navy fellas had made it all the way to the brunt of the mansion, demanding fer me arrest! We scared them away, but they just came back every few days.
"I finally got enough of it. Me mates and I headed out in the jungles ourselves to take matters in to our own hands, but when we got to their camp site, it was empty. Completely abandoned. They must have moved farther West, and we were right. We went farther, and what we found, was, well, shockin'!
"The rats were building a fort, right beneath our noses! I don't know how long they were there, but lemme tell ya, it was nearly complete by the time we got there. I wasn't prepared to attack it, but I did something - I got people on the inside, people who could look in fer me. They did some snoopin' around, and I got what I needed. Records.
"They detailed everything. Leanne O'Malley, the devil, had sold us out! In exchange fer some sort of gift, she gave the Navy enough crewmen to help them start their little project on Tortuga. They infiltrated my town, pirate crew's, even my office, as you can see! I should have known the coward had a hand in this."
Delmaria nodded. He would have expected by now Leanne would do something like that. "Well, don't worry, mate. I have something Leanne can't have, but wants."
"Which is?" Anne puzzled.
Before he spoke, Delmaria saw a stir at the bar. A few of the pirates sitting there slowly got up, and began to walk around the bar suspiciously. He quickly leaned to Anne and said, "Meet me at my ship. RUN!"
The pistols blared through the tavern as the two pirates hit the floor, drawing their weapons to fight back.