Seeing as how the game right now is in disarray, and I being sick, I took it as a great opportunity to finish the next chapter for you all, my loyal readers.
Enjoy, mates!
The Risen
Delmaria spent the next few days housed in his quarters, lying in bed as he nursed his wounds. He had managed to catch a cold as well, leaving him coughing and sneezing in despair the first few days after their escapade on the island. His body ached every time he moved it, and so he was confided to lie in bed as Grace shoved tonic after disgusting tonic down his throat. They never had any effect on him, but he would rather have her happy and delusional than sulking in the hull of the ship, like she does when she's upset. That or she would become more determined to come up with any even worse-tasting concoction. He spent his days looking across the room, through the wall of windows on the other side, where he could look out in to the bay of Tortuga.
Doctor Grogan had passed by the first day they arrived in the port, to make sure for himself that the pirate's illness was not too serious. He preformed the usual physical, and assured Delmaria that he would get over it in a day or two if he left nature take its course. At the same time, he updated him on Marina's condition, uplifting the captain by informing him his daughter had become better. The doctor, however, would still be keeping her in his office until Delmaria got better, and she showed full signs of recovery. "She's still in aftershock, and I know you don't want her romping around those gypsies anymore, out in the open. I'll keep her in until she is back to full health, but you're welcome to visit," he affirmed him.
As the days dragged on, Delmaria became more and more unrested, wanting to go walk about to clear his mind. Letting his thoughts manifest would be a bad idea, and he needed the fresh sea air in his face once more. He often tried sneaking out of his cabin in the middle of the day, when most of the crew was around the port, or in the middle of night, when he couldn't sleep. Yet his screaming body pushed him back to his little coven, and there he remained, hoping that he would be better by the next day.
He was on his last day of bed rest, as the sun set behind the horizon, signifying the end to another day. Delmaria was eager to receive his supper so he may return to sleep and end the day, but an unexpected guest took him off that mindset. In to the room stepped Leanne O'Malley, and her feeble son standing in front of her. Delmaria was caught off-guard by the sight, and sat up straight as the two proceeded before him. His heart raced in wonder, unsure whether to be happy, or sad.
Leanne and her son approached the bed, the boy standing in front of his mother as her arms hung over his chest, and wrapped held at his chest. She spoke, "Delm- Captain, I'd like to thank you for everything you've done for us. We.. we can't thank you enough."
Delmaria took a calm sigh, and nodded. "It was my pleasure, Leanne. I guess you could say the experience helped me a little, too."
"Yes, it worked out a lot better than I expected." She drifted a little, petting her son's dirty-blond hair. "Either way - my son and I, we are going to be starting up a new life in Boston."
Delmaria jumped in shock. "You're.. WHAT?!"
"The pirating life has become too dangerous for me, Delmaria. I only continued with it because I wanted to save my son. I want to live a better life, in a new, better world than back in England. I want him... to have everything I didn't, hm? Maybe someday, I'l- we'll join you back on the waters. But for now, I need to take care of a much more precious treasure." She stepped her son over a little, and walked over to Delmaria, leaning over and kissing him on the check. "Goodbye." she whispered in his ear. She stepped back, and turned to slowly walked out of the room. "James, say what you have to, and come on." Her red hair fluttered as she turned around the corner, stopping to take a good look at Delmaria out of the corner of her eye.
Their eyes met, and here they were again. A single goodbye between them, and they were parting their separate ways. One, returning to a life of peace, and the other, returning to his own, free life. He couldn't tell whether he was looking at the enemy, or a dear friend. She had caused so much love and chaos in his life, but Delmaria knew that was the purpose of a beautiful woman like her in the world. She taught him lessons timeless and priceless, so in the end, his debt was to her. She winked at him, and walked down the hall, out of vision. He could hear the door open, and close.
Delmaria turned his attention to the boy in front of him. "Thank you Mr. Darkskull." James said in a weak, intimidated voice.
"You’re welcome, kid. Be good for your mother, aye?" Delmaria instructed him, trying to hold back tears.
"Yes sir." James then instinctively reached in to his pocket, and pulled out a small bundle, a piece of fabric with a string wrapped around it. "Mommy said to give this to you." With that, he placed it in the hand of the captain, and walked out of the room. As he heard the door shut, Delmaria undid the bundle, slowly, and carefully. As he pulled away the cloth, he gasped in shock.
Before him was a necklace - a small, solid silver chain with a simple and small, yet stunningly beautiful crucifix on it. Delmaria's trembling hands scooped it up, bringing it to his face as he shook in awe and suspense. A piece of jewelry such as this would be a nice addition to a pirate's trove, but for Delmaria, it was much more special. He had always seen Leanne wear this from when he had met her nearly ten years ago, inheriting it from her father. He recognized this so well, because he was holding Leanne's Piece of Eight.
Delmaria slowly and carefully took the necklace in hand, unhinging it, and then lifting it around his neck, securing it in the back. It hugged his neck all the way around, except for the front, where the cross was, where it hung down a little. It had no real powers, but all the significance in the world to him. He sucked in a breath, and with it, the moment. He had become the first outsider in this royal line of pirates, and he had taken Leanne's seat on the Brethren Court.
Delmaria spent the remainder of the night locked in the cabin; the door locked, the rutters shut tight, with only a single candle that sat on his desk in the room to keep it somewhat lit. He didn't leave it once, even when one of the crew kept banging on his door to hand him his dinner. He sat cross-legged in his hammock, fiddling with the small cross in between the fingers of his right hand, as he let the thoughts swirl around him. He thought not only of Leanne and how she came to make this choice, but of his father. He wondered if he had finally come to where his father once was, but the thought of his father's face made him cringe, for reasons both good and bad. It had nearly been twenty years seen they had last met - was he still alive or not?
Delmaria poked his eyes through a slit in one of the rutters to see what the condition was outside, but was left looking in to the dark harbor of the port, the vague outline of ships revealed in the moonlight. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles yearned to untense and slink back to the sheets covering his bed. He sighed, and pushed his legs forward, then laying back and letting his head rest on the soft pillow. He crossed his hands over the cross, and closed his eyes, waning off to sleep.
1
He couldn't see or feel anything, his body still caught in the disbelief of sleep. All he could tell was that the soft surface that was once underneath him was taken from him, the air whipping past him as he twirled and tumbled. He felt the side of his body slam on to the floor, toppling him once more before leaving him face down on the floor.
His entire body and head throbbed in a sharp pain as his eyes slowly pushed themselves open, like large rusted iron gates. His blurred vision mixed the shades and tints of the messy quarters, but as his eyes slowly fixed themselves, he could make out the distinct features of the back of the room. His arm reached out to brush the right front leg of his desk, gripping it with his hand tight as his wobbly body pushed itself upward. He balanced himself on his knees, before standing up, keeping his hands planted on the papers atop the desk, as his legs became accustomed to withstanding the weight of the pirate captain's body.
He could hear behind him, past the doors of the captain's quarters, the chaos as the crew poured out on to the ship to see what had gone on. Delmaria reached down the sleeve of his soft linen shirt, and wiped it over his face a few times, to wake himself up. He looked down at the white, black, and green bundle of heavy clothes, and rolled his eyes at the thought of having to put them on so abruptly in the morning. He quickly threw them on, the shirt and vest still wrinkled as he tossed on to him the heavy black long coat, and picking up his brimmed, feathered hat with his left hand. He reached for his cutlass across the desk, but stopped. Before him were two swords, the Libertist, and Thorhammer's Cutlass. Instead of instinctively picking up the Libertist, he convinced himself to scoop up the golden cutlass instead, scooping it up and hurrying out of the room.
Delmaria stepped out in to the bright morning, a light, brisk wind hitting as his face. The armada of pirate ships that floated around him at ease made it as though it were a ship city, a marvelous sight to behold. Past the ships on the right side of the
Shark was the bay of Tortuga, the long wooden dock leading in to the harbor, where a large group of pirates passed and moved about. As one of the crew pushed past him, Darkskull looked to the left side of the main deck, where all the commotion was.
The left side of the main deck bore itself a gaping hole, that was just high enough to prevent the harbor waters from seeping inside the hull. The crew studied the large planks shattered at their ends, sticking up and out like daggers, the driftwood scattered across the deck and in the surrounding waters, and the overall destruction. Delmaria gasped, running along the second deck, and then pounding down the staircase near the hole as he shouted to the crew, "In the name of God, what the hell happened here!?"
Instead of speaking, Firesteel pointed outward, over the bow of the ship. Delmaria saw the back of a small light galleon, which had docked itself right at an open space at the end of the dock. The pirate then moved his arm the other way, to point out to the rest of the bay, and there Delmaria looked as well. He could see at least two other ships in the harbor that had also been damaged their crews shouting and bickering as they tried to figure out what happened as well. "I saw it all, cap't. 'Tis one of the few advantages of getting up early. That light galleon came barrelin' through like who knows what, and bounced off the side of the ship. Either he was in a hurry, or it has a mighty inexperienced crew."
"Your right it does. Somebody go wake up Dead and Buck, and Corsaire - rats can sleep through anything - and have them clean this all up. The rest of you, load up the dinghies and get us to port. I might as well chat with this fellow." Delmaria instructed to his crew. He walked over to the little staircase that led down in to the crew's quarters, and stomped the floor a few times. "IRONBONES, BANKOK, CORSAIRE, GET UP HERE!"
The crew got themselves dressed and ferried in to the dinghies, paddling out to the docks as Dead and Buck cursed under their breath at the captain. Delmaria sat at the head of his boat, fiddling once again with the necklace as he stared out blankly in to the bay. Sierra, who was rowing right behind the captain, put her hand on his shoulder, startling him. "Captain, you okay?"
"Ah, erm, yes, Ms. Bringly. Keep rowing." Delmaria nodded spastically over his shoulder. His mind had been wandering since last night, and his sleep hadn't been very good, either. His mind was numb with questions to which he may never answer.
As the dinghy approached before the dock, Delmaria watched in concern was pirates poured off their ships to run down the dock, towards the beach. Delmaria stood up, planted his hands on the dock, and pushed himself upward, gathering himself and jogging with the array of pirates, leaving his crew behind, calling his name. He watched as buccaneers in rags and riches alike converged on the main dock, and throughout the beach, looking in at the random shouting coming from the center of attention. Darkskull easily helped himself on top of a crate, where he could peer over the heads of the practically hundreds of pirates clumped in to a single mass. Yet that wasn't even enough to give him a clear understanding of what was going on, so he got down from the box and began to roughly push his way through the crowd, swatting pirates left and right as he immersed farther and farther in to the chaos.
Darkskull finally reached the eye of the storm, where two small crews of pirates were face to face, staring each other down. On one side of the circle was Anne, backed by her large, lethal body guards, and the other, and motley crew of pirates, drapped in lightly tanned clothes, each with the insignia of a skull and crossbones over their hearts - messengers, no doubt.
The one at the front of the small crew, and skinny, tanned faced man yelled at Anne "I told you, I need to speak to the Brethren NO-"
"And I told YOU, I'm in charge around here! Now tell me what you need or get the hell outta my port!" Anne yelled back.
"Your port? Sweetheart, you're only here because of your NO-GOOD, DEAD husband!" he taunted back at her. Anne jumped at him, but two of the pirates standing behind her grabbed her arms, preventing her from moving forward. The crowd cheered and roared at the thought of a fight, as the other pirates tried to rouse Anne up for a fight. When the two sides calmed down, the man continued, "Either way, I want to speak to a member of the Court, "Your Majesty.""
"And for what reason?" Delmaria stepped out of the crowd, in to the center of the circle. He could feel the entire crowd staring at him in wonder, as Anne sighed in relief at the sight of him. He turned to the pirate messenger, staring at him in a questioning face.
"Who the hell are you?" The man gawked.
"Captain Delmaria Darkskull, you dog," he stepped forward a little, reaching his hand at the necklace, and pulling it up off his chest to show the pirate, "Pirate Lord of the Atlantic."
The entire crowd starting stammering, shrieking, and out crying in confusion and shock. Delmaria's crew, in shock, ran up behind him. "Captain, surely, yo-you can't be serious, aye?"
"Damn right I be serious." he whispered over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse at Anne, who was watching at him in completely surprise, her jaw practically on the ground. Delmaria turned back to the pirate messenger, waiting impatiently for an answer. "Well? Might as well tell me here and now."
Shaken, the messenger stepped forward, intimidated by the pirate lord. "It's.. erm..." he sighed. "It's Jolly Roger. We've gotten Brethren scouts that say they saw his fleet making a pass through the seas.. towards here."
Again, the crowd erupted in shrieks and fear. The townsfolk turned to one another, worry and concern in their voices and eyes as they gripped their families. Darkskull turned to the masses of people, trying to silence them. When he saw that his orders were failing, he grabbed his pistol, pointed it up in to the sky, and shot, a heavy plume of smoke rocketing out of it. The people that made up in the outer rim of the little circle crouched down in surprise, grabbing their ears with their hands. As the crowd quieted, Darkskull turned back to the pirate. "How long do we have?"
"3 days, sir." he affirmed. "3 days."
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