The Chronicles of Delmaria Darkskull
 

After much thought, and advisory by my guildies, I have decided to finally take my underground story writing (The Journal of Delmaria Darkskull - my very own story ^_^) and post it on a thread, to allow it to blossom away from its secret chamber I call my blog :laughks2: The story was originally meant to explain how my pirate became who he is, but after setting the basic ground work, and filling in my readers what happened between the huge time interval, it then became a following of his adventures in the Caribbean. Of course, the story is already well on it's course - It's already had 19 previous installements! So, to avoid being lost in the dark, I suggest you read the previous stories before/after you read this one. You can head to my blog by simply going on to my profile, and heading to the Blog tab. Have fun :p

And now, for my next, 20th, and first thread chapter - Enjoy!

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June 13th, 1724
Outside the Town Walls, Padres Del Fuego
11:55 PM

Delmaria stood along the side of the Padres Town Walls, hidden by the shroud of the night. Only the sparkling lights of the stars lit the dark sand beneath his feet, and the small ponds of water adjacent from him, divided by spires of rock which jutted out through the shallows. It would have been much brighter, yet the moon sat hidden behind a group of dense clouds. After a few moments of complete silence, Wisdom came from around the corner, and silently stood next to the captain. He pulled out a small booklet, which inside it held a Writ of Passage. "There. These should get you through the Quarry without having to be stopped more than a few seconds."

Delmaria read down the small paper covered in elegant writing. "I can't imagine how much you had to rum up that scurge before you could weasel this from him. Where are the others?"

"Sailskull is bringing your ship over to the dock.. let's hope he doesn't sink it.. Grace is over with Valentina, she's been complaining of eerie feelings the entire day... the rest of us are up at the Thunder taking off a few rounds. Wish to join us?"

"Go right ahead. Grace and I are having a mutual feeling."

"Don't expect anything to be left." Wisdom slipped his way back through the walls. After a few moments of staring up at the clouds that swirled about the moon, Delmaria walked inside the Town Walls, in to a small corridor with a tree in the middle. He rounded it and was halfway up the walled-in staircase, when a light began to shine through the sky. Darkskull stopped, and moved himself up to the wall which cased the staircase, watching as the clouds swiftly parted from the moon. Yet it was different. It was not a pale, glistening white that sent off an aura through the sky. It was pale, giving off almost a green hue. And painted on it, was a terifying face. Roger.

A wave of pain instantly raced through Delmaria's body. His spine felt as though it had been stiffened, being stretched straight up. His leg muscles clenched, and he fell, rolling down the staircase in a heap of pain. He landed with his chest to the floor, and felt his entire body reeling with the burn of searing lava which poured from the volcano above constantly. He got up on to his hands, and watched in horror as a green mist smoked from his body. It engulfed his full view of vision, dark, thick. Doused in the smell of death.

As it began to clear, he looked back done to his hands. There was not heavily tanned skin. Only bone. Gray, hardened bone. The pain had stopped, but the fear had only begun. "MONSTER!" cried a shout from the top of the stairwell. Delmaria looked behind him, only to be shot in the back by a gleaming silver bullet. It shot through his entire back in a wave of pain, but he managed to crawl himself behind the small garden where the tree sat. He peered his head over it, to see his own mates, angry and horrified, running down the steps, blades wielded and pistols brandished. With instinct, he pulled out his cutlass and bursted out through the archway of the walls, making a dash towards the dock. However, upon leaving the town, he was instantly amassed in to a raging battle, between those both affected and unaffected by this disease of the moonlight. He turned to see how far his chasers had come, to be struck in the arm by a mistimed broadsword hack. Darkskull without thought returned the block, striking his own mate right across the chest. He looked to see who he had cut, only to find Buck lying on the floor.

Another mate of the pirate group, this time Andrew, ran foward, cleaving his sword down towards Delmaria. In defense, he swung his sword upward, catching the blow, and kicking Andrew away from him with a stern hit to the chest. He used this hit as a spring-board to run off in the opposite direction, back towards the dock. He danced his way through the masses of fights which covered the streets, often having to dodge his way out of a rogue dagger, or the usual out-of-place swing of a sword. He often stumbled over his bare feet as it smacked down on the hard rock floor, but he still outran his hunters by a good ten meters or so.

Finally, he had pushed his way in to the bay of the volcanic island, which was in itself only a grander stage of true chaos. He looked outward, past the great battle which unfolded, and laid eyes on his ship, fixed and ready to sail - it would have been a beautiful moment, if not he were being chased down like a piece of game in the jungles. He ran further, towards the dock, pushing the groups of frightened townsfolk and confused pirates out of his way. As he ran down the dock, with narrowed as he enclosed on his ship, he saw the sea now turned green by the vile reflection of the sky. It was as though the sky touching the waters at the horizon had contaminated it. He at last reached his boat, running up the plank which connected it with the dock, jumping, and landing himself square in the center of the main deck. He looked behind him, out back towards the bay, and was modestly pleased to see his chasers had been lost, distracted by the further events on the island. Yet at the same time, he was heartbroken, knowing he had left his mates in the midst of danger. Alas, there was nothing he could do, so unless he wished to have himself killed.

The near silence of the ship, apart from the noise of the bay, as if there were different section of it, was broken by a faint yet heavy panting. It came up from the third and highest deck, where a shadowed figure, seemingly exhausted, hung himself over the railing, next to the wheel. He looked down at Delmaria, and struggled through his painful breaths, "So.. your part of the ones.. who did this to me.. who.. who CURSED.. me... ehh...?" He staggered himself past the rail, towards the stairwell of the War Frigate. As he walked in to the moonlight, his face began to materialize. It was the face of an undead, a pirate trapped in this curse. Only it was awfully too familiar.

"Sailskull! I foun..." Delmaria tried to convince Christopher, that it was really his captain, not a simple pest of the devil himself.

"AH, so they taught you my name? They sent you to kill me, while I was weakened? Well, your'll have another thing coming if you think to silence my freedom!" From his hand which had been hidden behind his back, he revealed a large, shining blunderbuss. He pulled it up in to a proper shooting position, and pointed it directly down at his misnamed captain. There they froze, merely a second, but only felt as though it were hours. In a sudden act of desperation, Delmaria rolled himself backward, then sliding himself across the floor as the shot rang out. While the cursed pirate began running towards Delmaria, at the same time reloading his blunderbuss, the captain ran up the nearby staircase, up towards an additional balcony covered by the tall, wavering sails of the Sea Dragon. By the time he had reached the top, Sailskull was already at the main deck, making his way over. Delmaria turned his attention to one of the two nearby cannons - it had wheels. He ran over and grabbed its barrel, and with all his might, pushed it past his side, rolling it towards the stiarwell. When Sailskull reached the top of the staircase, he was caught off guard by a heavy, metal cannon rolling towards him. He jumped off to his side, but it still managed to get brushed in such a way that his blunderbuss fell out of his hands. It fell down to the deck below, followed by the cannon, which made a sizeable hole, to say the least. For a brief second, Darkskull was distracted by this - after all, he was going to have to pay for that.

Sailskull unsheathed his broadsword, and took a large, winding spin at Delmaria. The cursed pirate captain lunged backward, hitting against the thick wooden railing of the balcony. He looked back to the mast behind him, and jump over, landing squarely on the slanted beam of wood. He quickly worked himself up in a disheveled manner, and Chris swiftly followed behind him. The two shimmied their way up the mast, until Delmaria had reached the very top. He turned himself fully around, still clutching himself to the beam. Sailskull smiled with utter joy. "I've got ye now, ye dog..."

Trapped, Delmaria had only a choice. The only constant choice he had was to jump over twenty feet to the bow of the ship below, althought it seemed much too much of an uncomfortable situation for him. So, he went the other route. "Ey, isn't that man trying to steal the ship!?" Sailskull turned his head in disbelief, looking to see if this was true. At this time, Darkskull flung his leg to the side of the beam, and wiggled his foot to allow his boot to become loose. When Christopher turned back, Delmaria kicked his leg, sending the hard, leather boot flying, and hitting the pirate square in the head. Sailskull lost his grip on the mast, and slipped over the side, landing with a loud, discomforting thud to the deck below. When Delmaria looked over, however, he had seen not the body of an Undead soldier, but merely the body of a flesh and blood pirate. "Uh oh.." Darkskull whispered.

Suddenly, the pain once again shrieked through his body, stiffening all his limbs. As he slid over the side of the beam, he caught a last glimpse of the Muertos Moon. It showed Roger's image slowly fading away. He was laughing.

The smack against the bow sent a final wave of pain through Delmaria, and through his nearly closed eyes, he saw his flesh once again. In a surprise, around the corner came the crew of pirates, all still in somewhat of a good shape. The sight of their captain and fellow crewmate laid out in a heap upon the wooden floor caused them to dash towards the both of them. The first to reach him was Grace, who lifted his head up off the ground, and easily poured a disgusting potion down his throat, without saying a word. After a brief spit to get the taste out of his mouth, he looked up and smiled. "This won't kill me, will it?"

They all laughed for a moment. They tried to pretend that all hadn't just happened.

(Will read later) FINALLY! Good job, Del!

Nice job Del :D

:laughks2:WOW nice DEL ! :D

awesome!! del!! :D

June 14th, 1724
Las Pulgas, Padres Del Fuego
8:30 AM

"Watch yer head!" Delmaria rampantly swung his cutlass in a swift, horizontal motion over Andrew, you ducked to avoid the oncoming blows. The waving and winding blade of the cutlass cut through the skeleton's neck as though it were nothing but a sack of flower. As it's bone's fell to the dusty ground in a dramatic heap, Andrew ran out of the situation, in to the middle of the large circle the ring of pirates had formed, as they fought the onslaught of Undead knaves.

"Thanks for that one..." Andrew panted as he bent over, hands on his knees.

Delmaria continued to look down at the pile now at his feet. As Andrea chopped down the gypsy that she had been fighting against, she looked over her head to comment in. "Not like that was necessary, the bloke is to short to even get hit in the first place!" The crew laughed wildly, as Andrew picked up a hand full of sand and jokingly threw it at Andrea.

"Easy now, mates." Darkskull calmed them. "We have much further to go, if we want to chat up that fellow." He walked foward, in between where Lawrence and Firesteel stood, and marched down the long path before, deserted path before him.

They trudged foward, the hard, dark, sandy floor punding beneath their feet, as the fresh sun shined strongly on their shielded heads, hidden behind large feathered hats, or loosely tied bandanas. Ocassionally they had to hack away at a lowly Undead soldier that crossed their path, but any opposition was taken care of easily.

After barely a few minutes, they came to a small incline, which at the top opened up in to what seemed as a long, wide, yet covered length of ground. "Ssshhh...." they hushed as they eased their way up the small hill. After reavhing the end of the ramp, Prince, at the head of the pack, looked outward, across both ways. Two burly skeletons patrolled back and forth, keeping an eye out for any wayward animal - or human - that they could pounce on, disable, and possibly feast for that evening. There were a few small, disheveled shacks that lined the walls, seeming beaten by the heavy presence of the Undead. Surprisingly, however, a few of them still held their signs proudly, indicating that they once were, or possibly are, places where some-now-gone form of civilization could buy things such as bullets and guns, clothing. But what stood out was at their 10 - a blacksmith. "C'mon!" Lawrence gestured as they quickly slipped past the patrollers, in to the doorway of the blacksmithery.

They walked in to what, amazingly, looked like a blade shop. The walls were still lined by variations of cutlasses, sabres, and broadswords, now rusted by sitting openly in the dank hut for so long. The placed was littered with barrels, crates, buckets, logs of wood - even a broken-down wagon set aside in the corner. And in the thick of the mess, there stood a man, his back still turned to them. He brushed the floor, as if he were pretending the world around him was, that it was unchanged. But he lived within the manifest of pure poverty, of destruction, of confinment. His simple broom only was a metaphor for how he tried to brush the outside world off to the side as if they were nothing. Slowly, he stopped his swepping, and turned towards the motley pirates. The old, balding man, stilled graced in the clothes of a worksmen, smiled at their very presence.

"My my, can it be!?" He walked foward, squinting his eyes as he attempted to focus in, not like the sight would be that much more pleasing to the eye. "Ar-ar-are, are you from the.. t-the outside!?" He stuttered inward, almost like a child anxious to lay eyes on a figure he had lost - a father, pehaps. This mere connection made Delmaria wince in a small amount of emotional disarray. He hook it off and nodded, assuringly to the man. He pretended not to pay much attention, until he looked back closer at the old man. The large, golden sideburns.. the blank, desolate head-top..

"Sven Thorhammer, you might be?" Darkskull tilted his head as he walked closer. "I-I.. I haven't seen you in years!" The old man's face lit up as soon as Delmaria stepped foward, and they immediately lurched their hands foward and gave each other a firm shake of the hand.

"Delmaria Darkskull, you old dog! How ya been, mate!?"

They stood their exchanging stories and laughs about long ago, until they realized they weren't the only people in the room. Delmaria put a hand on Sven's shoulder and introduced him. "Mates, this is Sven Thorhammer, the very man who taught me everything I know bout blades and such!"

"Only the best! Haha, as were you, mate! I remember your training as if it were yesterday, the pure talent, rage that you held in you, it was-" Thorhammer were to continue if not for seeing the new found seriousness on Darkskull's face. "Erm- what ye here for in the first place, mate?"

"I heard your the reason why all these skellies run about this town - be it true?"

Sven turned away and sighed heavily, toying around with a few daggers that sat on a small wooden table. "People from this town have all kinds of stories. Some say it was about how strategic this place is, some say because of some silly old ring that was crafted here, but no, don't be believing them! It is true, they are here, but for my talents and I only!" He laughed as though it were an accomplishment, but he seemed to know it wasn't.

"I guess this has to do with that metal of yours?" Darkskull questioned as he leaned up against the fireplace.

"Ah, you mean what we call 'The Shiny'... a special metal indeed, mate. It's not just rare, not just valuable... it's cursed!"

"How so?"

"I can't even answer that question - ancient voodoo curses, possibly some mutation due to the volcanic lava - but.. well, it has the ability to make its weilder.. well, a little ghosty."

The entire group of pirates backed away, astonished. Except for Wisdom, who stepped foward, interested and hungry for knowledge. "You mean, it can turn whoever uses it.. in to a ghost? But I thought only that sword, that one that that dead fellow once used, could do that."

"You think that El Patron fellow made that thing?! Pha! That mate could practically hold a rod! Every story has its untold heroes, aye? That mate came here, looking to add up to his arsenal.. it was the first time I ever even put that metal to use, I had just found it one day in the mines. Who would have know that it would've become so famous!"

"But.. El Patron came to these islands far before our time... how is it possble that you..." for the first time, Wisdom cut himself short. His head tilted upward to face the old man, who walked over to a small pile of wood. He threw aside a few logs, and from it came - a sword. A golden sword, shining as bright as the day sun itself. Its craftsmenship was amazing, how it's blade curved so majestically, how its handle was so graceful yet sturdy. For some reason, he only held it's handle with a cloth wrapped around it. He waved Delmaria over to him, who slowly walked toward with utter caution. The old man suddenly flipped the sword in the air, and caught it with the same horizontal stance he had held it by it's handle - only this time he held the blade.

"That.. that can't be the sword! It was found by some mate.. a few months ago.. I saw it on Tortuga myself!" Wisdom challenged.

"Bah, that piece of garbage. I only crafted that in a few weeks or so. Overrated, if you ask me. This one.... this one is much better." He turned to face Delmaria. "Take it."

Delmaria's hand slowly made it's way towards the handle. The instant his hand wrapped around it, his body began to shake. A burst of energy, pure power, winded its way out of his body. The pirate captain was scared, and for the first time he let it show. A green mist wavered around his body again - only this time, it was lighter. It was embracing, warming, magical. When the transformation finished, Delmaria looked at himself in a mirror - he saw nothing. Thorhammer instantly hobbled over to the table that he previously stood at, picked up a dagger, and threw it at Darkskull with pure swiftness. Delmaria winced his eyes, awaiting the blow - but instead, he watched as it passed through his glowing body, and perched itself in to the wooden wall. Sven walked back over, and easily took the sword out of Delmaria's hand. He slowly watched as the green glow parted, being filled in with color, solid color and flesh. As Delmaria patted at his body to make sure he was still on Earth, Sven wrapped up the sword in a large tarp and pushed it in to Del's chest. As Darkskull's head picked up in surprise, Sven winked at him. He then saw how old the man really was - he looked ancient, almost, his wrinkles showing out was if giant cracks in the rock wall that was his face.

Without a word, the pirates walked out of the hut, still mistified by what they saw. The last of them was Delmaria, who stopped in the open doorway on his way out. "Thor..." he turned around to, for one last time, face the man he saw as his father figure, the one man who basically taught him all he knew.

Nobody was there.

Awesome! Nice job Del!

Wow del, excellent story! In the first chapter in te beginning, I don't know it was confusing, but I was able to picture EVERY thing you said, great stories. I await your next one :)

GREAT detail DEL! im picturing everything u mentioned N im awating to find out wat happens next :D

June 15th, 1724
Eastern Boiling Bay, Caribbean Sea
2:09 AM

The crew sat scattered amongst the Sea Dragon, as were their minds, divided by their own goals and greeds. The night was thick, and only an assortment of lanterns that sat on the edge of the boat ever so carefully, acting as daggers as they cut through the light evening mist. Despite the progression of the night, how far down the path it's timeless path went, the crew was still much awake. They could carely contain themselves, holding back such strong feelings.

Below the deck, the knowledge hungry pirate wrote away by candle light, secretly as he swung in his hammack. What he commonly used to write down different break throughs concerning voodoo magic and the mysterious ways of the Caribbean, which he studied ever so advidly, he set aside a page to write down his angers:

Beh! I can't believe this! I come face to face which such, such an awe-striking, majestic weapon.. and I can't event study it! This, this is a mockery of my very being!

He's locked himself away in his quarters ever since we got aboard. I bet right now he's up there, swinging it and slashing it away, practicing, learning it's every move and function, while I cannot even wrap my hands around it. It's such a taunt, isn't it!?

It is only unfair how he can keep such a treasure to himself. He'll have to hand it over sooner than later!

I must go talk with the others concerning this matter.

He lays his journal down and walks down the crew's are, passing an array of beds, cluttered with different personal affects of each one of the crew. As he walks, he passes Grace, the only other below deck, who sat in her hammock, toying around with a few objects that Valentina had given her as a gift. As she sat there, she thought over the warning that the gypsy had so ever instructed her, to remember, that still haunted her by it's unknown meaning:

"There will be blood tonight, my child.. the blood that runs ever so freely shall drip in the same manner.. only you may get in the way.."

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Wisdom walked up the stairs towards the deck. She saw the strange determination in his eyes, it penetrated the entire ship with an aura of danger, of distrust. She absorbed this distrust, and felt the urge to follow him. She tucked a small cloth voodoo doll in under her vest, and quietly made her way off the swinging bed, and up the stairs to the deck.

Meanwhile, a small group of pirates sat huddled on the farthest upper deck of the massive War Frigate. They formed a small circle at the very top of the left staircase, which gave them a perfect perch to view all that went on below them on the deck.

"Erg, that bad? How long will it take to recover." Andrea concerned as she leaned against the rail, carefully balanced between the side of the deck, and on the other a large, daunting drop to the dark ocean waters below. How the mist covered the water acted almost as a shroud, looking like one who fell in were to disappear for all eternity.

"We're not completely sure if he'll make it over not, it took a big chunk out of his arm and leg, it did." Lawrence shook his head at Andrea in dismay. She turned away to look out across the ocean, watching the mist dance in the wind.

Andrew, who stood at the very edge to the staircase, stepped slightly foward to warm up the conversation. "I'm concerned for the Captain. He's been hiding himself in his quarters for hours. I wonder what he's doing..."

Andrea talked over her shoulder, as she stilled watched the sea. "I'm sure it's not that big. It has been a year since we were established, after all. If anything, he's writing down a few last minute coordinates so we can go hunt down some poor fleet of British ships."

"Still...." Andrew turned around to look down at the deck. Off on the bow, Bankok and Firesteel were playing a card game of Blackjack. "He'll never win against Bankok." Andrew thought to himself with a small grin. Suddenly, his eye caught Wisdom, who walked up out of the ship's underbelly like a shadow. He saw the pirate look around both ways, and then quickly hurry himself towards the staircase that led to the second deck, on the opposite side of the ship as them. "Get down!" Andrew whispered to Prince and Melissa, as he pulled them behind a large bunch of crates at the very corner of the third deck. He peered around the side of the box to catch the top of Wisdom's head in his gaze. The pirate looked around once more, and then made his way to the center of the second deck, towards where the door to the Captain's Quarters sat. He gestured them in a hurried motion to follow him, as he made his way towards the staircase.

The small group of pirates walked briskly to the center of the second deck in pursuit of Wisdom, where they met up with Goldgull. She, without a word, joined by their side, as they strutted themselves down the small hallway that led to the Captain's Quarters. As Wisdom reached for the door, Andrew whipped out his pistol, and placed it at the back of Wisdom's head. "What ye think your doing, mate?"

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a gun clicking behind them Andrew turned over his should, while the rest of the group turned around to face Buck and Jack, and the barrel of a large blunderbuss pointed right in their face. "I wouldn't do that, Andrew." Jack warned, who held the blunderbuss.

And there they stood, interlocked in a conflict, a chain of distrust amongst only the closest of friends. The tension was high, almost as thick as the shroud of darkness that covered them at this time of night.

To break the silence, the door to the Quarter's slowly pushed itself open. They all looked inside, yet saw nothing. The usual clutter still covered the room - the papers, the maps, the eccentric treasures, the large wooden furniture. It all was the same. But all it lacked was a Captain.

"GAH!" Came from the back of the group. They looked behind them to find a bleeding Firesteel, a large red pool below his right arm, which splashed as he fell to his knees. Grace's eyes lit up as her eye's met the scene. The gypsy of the island of fire was correct - the blood of a free man had been shed. She ran to him in a healer's impulse, but was stopped short, as a bayonet came within millimeters of her face. On the end of that barrel was a soldier completely dressed in Black, black as the night sky. The group of pirates came out of the hallway in a surrender, and realized they were surrounded on all sides by a huge group of the Black Guard. While they had bickered silently with their eyes, with their actions amongst themselves, a large Warlord of the East India Trading Company had snuck itself up to their side.

Off to their left side, the two soldiers in front of the steps parted, revealing an elegantly decorated man. He was covered head to toe in black cloth, only with the exception of large, silver buttons that bulged out in the night. They held together a large, commanding coat, only overdone by the large, half-circle Admiral's Hat that sat on his small head. He walked foward, revealing a small, laughable face. If not for his extravagant attire, you might have guessed he was nothing more than half of a sailor. "Where is your Captain?" He said in only the most snobby of accents.

The group looked about - no form of their captain in sight. But almost with the black guardsmen's words, the mist grew thicker, much thicker. It became darker as well, was the moon and all it's stars were hidden behind the clouds above. And out of all of this, they saw their Captain - in the most surprising of forms.

The image of only a gold cutlass cut through, attached at the end by a green are of the mist. It cut itself through the sides of two of the Black Guard, who immediately collapsed to the ground. It then lunged toward and thrusted through another of them, before at last he was overwhelmed, and knocked over towards the group of pirates by the bash of a bayonet. The pirate was tossed towards them in such a force it nearly toppled them over, but they managed to catch their no-longer ghostly captain. As they pushed him in a standing position, they again formed a circle, and pulled out their wide away of weaponry. The Guard raised their bayonets ready to fire, but their captain raised his hand to disarm them.

"Mr. Darkskull, you have been requested by Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company to be brought in tow to Port Royal at once, at the request of your services." The man let out regally in the same annoying accent.

"Ah, so he's not going to put me to death? Good to know. But I spit at your request to destroy my freedoms!" Delmaria spat at them.

"Nonsense, Mr. Darkskull. Lord Beckett only requests for your help in defending the town of Port Royal from pillage by the forces of the Undead."

"And what do I have to gain from this?"

"That's negotiable." The captain smiled eeriely.

AWESOME!! keep it up! :D

I apologize on this one taking a little longer than the others, this week has been a hectic one for me. No, on to what your here for:

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June 17th, 1724
East India Trading Company Offices, Port Royal
6:15 PM

The normal clear, blue sky of the Caribbean was traded for a thick, misty, purplish-green one, as it dauntingly swirled above the large island. It led no avail to the light which tried to push it's way through, and blanketed what was as if the entire world, leaving only small laterns and makeshift bonfires to leave somewhat of a warm sense that normally comprised the bustling town.

Hundreds of townsfolk, Navy soldiers, and pirates alike carried assorted mounds of boxes, barrels, pieces of fence, wagons, ship parts - anything they could muster to form a sort of barricade. Boys as young as thirteen, old enough to be considered a man, were shoved in to the front lines, alongside men who were well over an age of any sort of fitness; it was the current belief that if they were to die soon, it would be defending their homes. It was a sight to see, as men of all ages stood shaken, fearful as they stood at the beach, bayonets, broadswords, and muskets shoved in to their arms, almost as if there were any chance they were to survive this onslaught; this was their mindset.

Meanwhile, the rest of the port rambled in total chaos. Women ran around crazily trying to gather their children, their livestock, and any necessary supplies for survival, in case of the worst, and without order throwing them in to their homes. The worst of the scenes was the market place out over by the Rowdy Rooster, where massive fights had broken out over the limited amounts of food that were left. It acted as a certain dance, how it would work. First, the mother and authority of the household would push her way through the crowd to the front, where she could swipe anything that was in arm's reach. She would throw a random amount of coins at the poor, defenseless clerk, and then fight her way back to her children. She would then throw the supplies in to her child's arms, who would carry them back to the house. This cycle thusly continued.

"I must thank you for your willingness to aid in such times of direness, my fine sir." Beckett sipped through his cup of tea. He seemed utterly relaxed, aside from the fact he sat only a meter or two away from a savage, disgruntled pirate.

"I would much rather have my crew and I to live than to have died out on those waters. But then, this only forlongs the process, doesn't it? At all least I should be down with my crew, but no, I sit her bounded to this chair." Delmaria returned as he shooked his chain-bounded wrists. He was clampsed to the chair by a large system of chains and locks, for the safety of both the Lord Beckett, and the two soldiers who stood over at the far left of the room, in front of the door.

Beckett chuckled to himself in amusement, and continued. "I'm impressed... how selfless of you to be with your crew at such a time. But what is the lives of a few deckhands, to the equavilent of a man such as yourself." What was meant to flatter the pirate only made him snarl in anger, so Beckett made with him a betterment. "Rest assured, your crew will stay away from the first fronts of battle."

Delmaria peered at the elegant, calmed man, studying his every move, almost as if trying to pounce on the first flaw he could find, which was not to be seen. Finally, the long pause of silence was broken. "What do you want from me, Mr. Beckett?" Darkskull challeged.

Beckett let out a long, tired sigh, and got up from the black, cushioned chair that he sat on. He walked about the room, studying it's every feature - it's wide assortment of fine collectibles, ranging from maps of the Old World dating back centuries ago, to a large, defying grandfather clock, to a variety of eccentric tables, chairs, cabinets, stools, all hand crafted from parts across the known world. Finally, he walked to the balcony, which overlooked the unruliness which overlooked the bay, and called over his shoulder "Gentlemen, do me a favor and unchain Mr. Darkskull - over here, my fine man."

Delmaria wriggled his limbs out of the chains before they were fully off, and as soon as he stood up the soldiers nearly raced back to the door. They kept their bayonets at the ready as he slowly joined Cutler at the balcony. After a short yet timeless walk, he was able to see what went on below - the masses of people running beneath them, looking like ants as they scattered to their various positions. The few Navy soldiers that had the bravery to not keep themselves barricaded inside Fort Charles tried to bark order in to the army of minute-men, but disorganization and fear took its toll upon them. Before Delmaria could take in the entire scene, Beckett began to continue, now at his side.

"I know the predicament you find yourself in every day, Mr. Darkskull. Your life is but a fight for survival, only distracted by frivolous spoils. I know this if the life you didn't want to live, now isn't it?" The silence between them, Delmaria's eyes now staring blankly at the novel of events below, answered the question for him. "Well, Mr. Darkskull, I'm not such of a demonic, sadistic person as you may think I am. So, I offer you a way out." From his coat pocket, Beckett pulled a piece of parchment, and slid it on the railing towards Delmaria.

The pirate picked it up, and ran his eyes down it as he questioned, "What is this?"

"Those are the orders which can make all warrants, all accusations against you null and void, Mr. Darkskull. And in return... all I ask for is your service to the Company. You can be a free man, once more."

So many thoughts ran through the pirate captains head at this moment. It was finally his chance to be free, free from the bounds of piracy. His normal life after all the years that had passed could be restored. He thought about all the opportunities for a normal life this could give him.

But at the same time, he thought of why he was still a pirate. Why he hadn't hidden himself from society, but instead, made himself a target amongst the public - the thrills, the adventures, and most of all, his crew. Was the life of a free man really free?, he asked himself.

"Thank you, Lord Beckett." Delmaria turned to face the man, who had a quiet smile on his face that ran from ear to ear. "Unfortunately, I'm not up for the taking the job of a slave to your King." The pirate crumpled up the paper he held in his left hand, and with the other, created a fist which he landed squarely in to the forehead of the tyrant. The shock of the punch knocked Beckett off guard, smacking him to the ground a good few meters away from where he previously stood.

Delmaria only had a brief moment to enjoy the aura the moment gave off, for only a few seconds later, he watched as the bullet of a bayonet nearly hit across his face. The lunged backward, behind a wall which divided the office from the balcony, catching hold of the railing so that he would not crash on to the floor. He wrapped his hand around a vine that stuck out from a wall, which sat right next to the balcony, and pulled himself up over th edge as the two Navy soldiers ran to catch him. But before they even had a chance to reach themselves to the stone balcony, he was making his way down the wall at an astonishing speed. Darkskull looked up to check where the soldiers were, to see them looking down at him as they aimed their bayonets. In an act of desperation, he jumped off the wall, quickly landing himself to the ground. To his surprise, it didn't hurt much as he landed chest first on to the ground - his fall was only a meter and a half high.

He quickly collected himself and made off in to the crowd, quickly hiding himself. As he began to believe he was safe, off to distance, in the bay of Port Royal, the sky cracked the ominous whip of lightning.

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This chapter was a little shorter than the others (and a little more boring to, I know) but this was mainly an explaination of what happened between the crew getting captured, and the next chapter (I promise that will be an exciting one! :D)

Please remember to comment and critique! The harsher the better!

wow!! wgt del this is great and cant wait for the next chapter!! :D

GOOD GOOD keeps getting better but did u mean He when you said "The wrapped his hand around a vine that stuck out from the wall"?

Thank you for another chapter.
I am very much enjoying the details you have painted into your story.
I did find towards the end a repetition of the use of the word quickly.
With just a minor adjustment, I think this chapter is excellent!
I am by no means an expert on anything, so please take no offense.

:bookishfj7: Thank You again for another wonderful chapter

Muchas Gracias Luckie! Hadn't noticed that!

Alrighty, I promised you guys a pretty actiony chapter. Let's see how you like it:

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June 17th, 1724
Port Royal
6:30 PM

The putrid green clouds that blanketed the sky over the island suddenly became much, much darker. The darkest area of the sky, however, was far out, atop the bay, where it looked as though a black wall had risen itself to taint the sky. The only form of light that penetrated that wall as an unprovoked, heavy flurry of lightning. The blots began slow, single, one by one, with small intervals in between. But almost like a drummer beating atop his instrument, it became quicker, more abrupt.

Delmaria, who stood far back from the bay, by the gpysy cart near an old, abandoned warehouse, slowly walked his way in curiousty towards the lightning. He stopped to a light banging noise over his shoulder, to watch the gypsy cramp herself in to her cart. Before she closed the curtains behind her, their eyes met. He gazed in to what seemed as though she had been traumatized by this sight - they warned him of danger in a strong, silent way. Without a word, she ignored him, and threw the curtain in front to close her off from the world.

Delmaria turned away, back towards the black wall, whose bursts of light had picked up intensely. He started out in a walk, yet as he neared the pillars that ironically welcomed him in to the town, his pace increased. By the time he had hit the cobblestone, he was in a sprint, which was barely slowed as he plowed through the silent wall of people, who only moments ago were fighting over simple things such as food and water. He pushed his way through the individuals, who were in such a trance that they had not noticed the heavily decorated pirate fighting his way through a nonresistance crowding.

Finally, he reached himself to the brick wall which divided him from a sizable fall to the shallow waters below. Delmaria watched as the lightning danced around magically, flashing in all which ways. For a reason, it looked as though they were growing - larger and larger with each flash. It was a phenomenon, how strange it was. Until it had become evident, that the lightning was not growing. It was coming closer.

A final bolt, as large, terrifying, and beautiful as anything for eyes to ever be laid on, roared extraordinarily loud as it changed the color of the entire black wall of mist from black, to pure white. The light blinded nearly all of those who stood at or near the ledge, except for Darkskull himself, whose wide-brimmed hat absorbed most of the blast. Still, it was enough to make his vision uncomfortable, for his ears to ring, but he peered through this to watch in hooror as the bolt struck down at the middle of the dock, blazing it in to an inferno. Those who stood at the dock were either close enough to have themselves burned severly, or thrown back by the blast five, ten meters, either on to the beach, or in to the waters, which reflected back the disgusting hue of the sky. It was terrible, all of it - but not as much for what was to come. For a sound more horrifying, more diabolical than the bolt rang through the area of the port.

The laugh. The same exact laugh which had mocked Delmaria and his renegade group of pirates at the blockade which stood misshapenly in defense of Padres. It shrieked through the night, heavy, taunting, amused. A woman who stood next to Delmaria had now fallen to her knees, as she frantically prayed which a set of rosary beads entwined in her hands. She began to cry as the laugh continued, but she was ignored by all but Delmaria. But he had, to some extent, ignored her. He stood a distance away, standing as the distance between their different lives. Still, he felt for the woman, which is why he turned away. He could not afford to let his emotions overcome him at this time.

The black wall slowly parted, the laugh almost acting as a dagger, for it indeed cut itself through the night. The mist parted to reveal a sight too awfully familiar to the seasoned pirate - a large war ship, slowly pulling itself alongside the very end of the wooden dock. It was not any regular war ship, but it grand, fearsome, and of all things, wicked. It looked as though it had been torn apart, destroyed almost. One that hadn't sailed the seas much could say it looked like any other skeleton ship - but not for a pirate. It was not physical, but the presence the ship gave was different from any other ship of the Undead armada. It almost said to you words on a lost cause, of the diminishing of all hope. It was like looking in to the face of Death himself.

In the flash of an instant, Darkskull felt himself pulled away at the right bicep by an unknown arm. He would have looked to see who it was, but he was more concerned with what was in front of him. From the other side of a large barricade, comprised of random wooden objects thrown together in to a careless heap, a rusted, mighty cutlass swung at him, missing his neck by mere inches. With that, the silence was broken - the personality of the atmosphere returned to itself. Screams of defensless women and children were smothered by the battle cries of those who had taken armies against the invaders.

It was almost a laugh, watching both sides of the fight swinging their swords and daggers, shooting their guns over the barricade, and then ducking behind it for cover. Delmaria stood their, unsure of what to do, as people flocked to and from the barricade which sat atop the arched, stone bridge. The humans had an advantage; their side of the barricade was on higher ground than the invaders. However, this didn't mean it was easier. Slowly but surely, defenders in small numbers, then in groups were sent away from the barricade due to giant gashes in either their arms, hands, or in the worse case, their faces. The Undead had begun to turn their focus away from the withering living to their makeshift wall, kocking at it, tearing it apart. It was in a burst of desperation that Delmaria came up with his plan, drawing his sword (cloth still around the handle) in a commanding, triumphant motion.

"Push!!" He shouted as he rammed his body in to the barricade. It didn't take long for the people of the town to rally behind their unknown leader, thrusting the entire weight of their bodies in to the barricade over and over. The Undead had no idea how to respond to this, as every time they attempted to approach the barricade, they were pushed back by a random jolt. The soldiers of the damned laid their bony hands on the barricade, attempting to push back. But it was simply their bones again the will and determination of the humans, which was much too strong to for the simple animation of corpses. In a final burst of energy, the barricade gave way to the force of the militia of new soldiers, tumbling down on to the mass of Undead that layered the stairs, crushing them in one foul motion.

The sight of the garbage landing sternly on the ground, with not an Undead soul to be found, erupted a cheer from all the men who stood their. For a moment, Delmaria felt proud of his accomplisment, as he felt those people behind him who hugged their families, their friends, and random strangers, simply taking in the moment. All were embracing it with each other but Delmaria, who looked off quietly to his side, where he saw the elderly woman praying so dearly for the forces of evil to not rule the day. She was not their, but the rosary beeds which she held in her hand were, laid neatly on the ground. He bent over and scooped them up in his hand, studying them. He gazed about the area, but saw no trace of the woman, only the celebrating group of men, women and children. He clutched them in his hand tightly. He had not known her, but felt a connection to this mysterious woman, for what she herself stood for.

The brief moment of happiness was interrupted by a small boy, no older than ten, ran up on the group from the back. "They're making their way towards the mansion!!" he cried helplessly. The entire group turned to face him without expression. They all looked about each other, ensure of what to do.

Delmaria tucked the rosaries quickly in to his pocket, and ran his away around the idle group, past the boy, and hooked a right in to the town, without paying any attention to the baffled group that he left behind. As he ran, he passed walls of shops and homes, boarded down with planks of wood to attempt at preventing their lives either being raided by others look for supplies, or being savaged by the ruthless Undead. To much of his surprise, this was the quieter part of the port, despite being home to the majority of those common folk who roamed here. Delmaria was only accompanied by the soft wind that blew by his side. All around him, he heard the faint echoes of the battle raging on, going deeper in to the night. He took this moment to take a seat atop a small stone wall, which closed off in a square a medium sized tree, which acted as an umbrella from the blazing Caribbean sun at the day. All he did was looked around at the desolant place. Despite it being rich in color, it seemed to hold in itself a grey tint, a lifeless, still touch, that wasn't exactly visible. But he felt it there, like a sixth sense, almost.

The pirate shook his head to bring himself back in to the real world, where the events were transpiring. He returned to his quiet run through the town, and at the Eastern Square of the town, banked to his left. He was met by a group of Undead soldiers, literally walking over the townsfolk, as they began to ascend their way past the Governor's Walls, up the hill which led to the Mansion itself. Bodies lined the long grassy plan before him, from where he stood, all the way back to that same gypsy cart. In random areas, set all apart from each other, little pockets of pirate ate away at what form of grass was left.

Delmaria took his cutlass to his side and jogged in action towards the enroaching skeleton army. He picked it up above his head, and slashed it down on to the first skeleton he reached, sending it to the ground. Before the other skeletons could turn around and react, he spun himself like a top in a single circular motion, connecting his blade to the rib cages of at least five more soldiers. Each of them followed suit of the previous, crashing either straight down, or being flung backwards, caught off their feet. Unfortunately, this left Delmaria in an awkward position, which allowed for one of the Undead - a vicious, dagger wielding Raider - to carve a small cut along his arm. Before his blood even touch the ground, Darkskull jumped off his feet backward, twisting his upper body in mid air, and landing his cutlass squarely in to the check bone of the soldier. His blow was devastating, crashing the skull of the skeleton across the small courtyard they stood in, and slamming it in to the wall of to his left. Of course, it didn't leave the pirate unscaved either; he landed in such a fashion that it felt like he nearly folded himself in to seperate pieces, like a slip of parchment placed in to one's pocket.

He spat out a patch of dirt that he had scraped up with his teeth, and turned his vision upward the hill. A group of Navy soldiers were pushing at the large metal gates that allowed entrance to the Mansion, slowly closing them on the outside world. Groups of people rushed themselves to seek shelter within the courtyard, pushing each other, diving dramatically through the air. All Delmaria knew was it was vital to get in there in order to survive.

He pushed himself of the ground and sprinted towards the gate. The had nearly closed, only a meter from being shut off completely, but he persisted, breaking his way past random groups of townsfolk and pirates, punching each other, rolling on the ground, even crawling towards the gates. To them, it was almost like the gates of heaven were closing on them, for all eternity. It was merely a race against himself, but it seemed as he had lost. The gates had closed only a few meters from him, but yet he had built up enough momentum that he couldn't stop himself. The distance between the gates and himself shortened rapidly. Yet even though it was only a few seconds away, it felt like minutes, hours going by. This gave time for Delmaria to realize something vital; that sword was still in his hand.

Darkskull threw the cutlass out of the hand with the cloth, and caught it was his bare left hand. The transformation was almost immediate, which to him, was a fortunate occurrence, as his lesser-than-physical body passed directly through the dark steel bars, and even through a few of the Navy soldiers, before he stopped himself. He turned to face a large group of British officers, commoners, and pirates alike staring at him blankly. They were both mistified and frightened, unsure of what to do. To show he meant them no harm, the captain raised both his hands in the air, a small smirk on his ghostly face. Slowly, cautiously, the soldiers returned to chaining the fence, the townsfolk to searching for their families, and the pirates to laugh, chattering, and showing of their fresh battle scars. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a usual face come up to him.

"Captain! How did you make it here?!" Lawrence cried happily as he tried to pat Delmaria on the back, only for his hand to swoop right through.

"Well, I don't really think I brought myself here, but was simply brought here by a very strange, perfectly timed and precariously unfolded chain of events. Where's the rest of the crew?"

"I have no idea. I saw Firesteel over by Drydock, but word has it that the beach was completely overrun within the first few minutes that they got here. Wisdom I think was trying to direct the guys down at the beach, but after that big flash that hit the dock - you saw that, right? Good - it erupted in total chaos. Only person I know where they are is Grace - she's inside the parlor of the Mansion, the Brit's set up an infirmary in there. Of course, they're only treating those that have enough gold to pay fer it." Prince shook his head in shame as he stared aimlessly at the ground.

"POWDER KE-" a random shout from across the enclosement which protected the Mansion was cut off by a loud explosion, that ripped through the metal gates on the opposite side. Pieces of metal were flung through the air in a firey hailstorm, landing on people who were unfortunate enough to be standing near the fountain by the gate. The smoke was thick, but was blow away quickly by the breeze, confused by the early covering of darkness. As it cleared, a rabid group of skeletons poured in, pouncing on the closest form of life that was near them. The Navy soldiers that stood at the gate before the two pirates picked up their bayonets and, by all common stereotypes among pirates, commoners, and probably an other creature that has ever entered these waters, rushed in to battle, rammed the ends of their guns in the random Undead. This caused an awakening with the crowds that surrounded the political home, jolting them to rush foward in a crusade of righteousness. It seemed as thought the invaders themselves were once again caught offguard, and for a moment, it looked as though a retreat was eminent.

Suddenly, a painful scream ran through Delmaria's head. It was that same scream, the one of a woman, followed by a man, that had rung through his head before. It thrusted itself through his body, taking him to his knees. His brain felt as though it were being tortured, manipulated. Before his eyes flashed such terrible, gruesome scenes; the burning of houses, the the flash of lightning, the crack of a gun - and his father, being punched, kicked, beaten, bruised by those two massive pirates from his memory. Although they weren't as he previously noted them - they were shown as skeletons, destroying his father, taking his mother, flashing so quickly and so painfully in front of him. A final shockwave of pain pushed through him, and the bursts ended.

He found himself supported by his hands as they were planted on the ground. His vision was blurred terribly, and he was awfully confused. Screams and cries rang almost as though they were covered, quieted. He looked around to see what was going on, but only saw the blurred outlines of masses of people running about crazily. His vision improed slightly as it progressed, through each of his heavy gasps for air. He looked to his right, where he could begin to make out everything much more clearly. The fountain, the people, the fires; and a man. A very, very tall man, probably eight feet or taller. He walked as though he were on a mission, or that he was walking on legs of different height - he couldn't tell. He was decorated heavily, covered in a large overcoat, chains, trinkets, jewelry. He seemed like a pirate giant, before his one feature gave his identity away.

He had a gun for a hand.

Man after man threw himself at Roger, but was thrown away by his sheer power. He gave out bursts of chaotic winds that swirled through the air, knocking over anybody that stood within a relative distance of him. With the simple wave of the hand, he could call upon a burst of lightning to strike the ground before him, the Mansion itself, or even a man, almost instantly rendering him helpless, disabled. It was a sight to behold, as the giant skeleton made his strides towards the door of the Mansion.

Delmaria struggled to his feet, staggering and sliding, taking a moment to catch his balance. He swipped up the cutlass of the ground, and, unlike last time, the touch of it's handle felt as though he was having a heart attack. Still, he took a deep breath to steady himself, and began to hobble over, around the small garden, up on to the cobblestone before the stairs, and towards Roger. It took a moment for him to notice who was actually coming towards him. "Bleck! If it isn't the traitor himself! I was waiting to see your face again!"

The ghost pushed through his tired lungs, "You should have.. gotten used to seeing me by now, eh?"

Roger seemed annoyed by his presence. "ENOUGH! You will not ruin me again!" The giant called forth a bolt of lightning to strike the pirate, but it had barely any affect - it passed through him, only wincing from the charges that were absorbed by the ground below his feet. Roger was stunned, as the ghost began to walk towards him, blade in hand. It wasn't long before a group of men followed suit, approaching Roger quickly from behind.

The group treated Roger as a dummy, hacking, slashing and cleaving away at the Undead captain. They did little affect by themselves, but their numbers grew, as more and more defenders join the fight against him. Before long, there was more than a hundred, possibly two hundred crowded in to the area before Roger, shooting him, throwing at him, or cleaving away at him. Their might began to overpower Roger, as he tried ever so hard to knock down them all, one by one - an effort that was hopelessly lost.

It was a few minutes before Roger's legs finally gave out, sending him to his knees. With this sight, the fight picked up immensely - the shooters shot faster, the threwer harder, and the cleavers cleaved heavier. It was not long after this that it became evident - they had won.

Roger thrusted himself upward in a painful scream of defiance. A light, thick, murky green smoke rose up from his feet, covering him from the rest of the world. A final gust of wind blew, sending the smoke away. Nothing was there.

They had begun to notice that the ground semed much lighter, as they peered up in the sky to confirm their hopes. The green clouds began to fade away, to the beautiful orange-purple of the twilight sky. What ensued was perhaps one of the greatest showing of faith in humanity.

At one single moment, ever person on that island let out a loud, uproarious cheer, waving their weapons, throwing their hats. dancing with strangers wildly, crying in joy, hugging their friends, families, and fellow men. Even the solemn Delmaria rejoiced in the victory, holding his arms up high in triumph. As the world of joy swirled around him, he reached his hand in to his pocket, and pulled out the beautiful white set of rosaries. He looked at them, rubbed them in between his bloodied hand, and smiled.

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Boy, talk about a monster of a chapter! Please be sure to rate, comment, and critique. I'm not exactly the best of pointing out typos, so any help would be much appreciated!

Haven't read yet, but did you mean "like" rather than "life"?
edit: Nice job Del :D

The only other typo I noticed, "handa".

Thank you Sven! It's always that last sentence -.-'

June 17th, 1724
Port Royal
10:56 PM

The celebration over the invaders had gone well in to the night, with no signs of stopping. Driftwood left behind by the destroyed barricades was formed in to small piles, and then lit to boast as a bonfire. These small pockets out flames were all about the port, being encircled by large groups of men and women alike, laughing, dancing, drinking, adulterating, activities which were practical in the blissfully sinful mood of the deep night. For now, they ignored the history which had traspired before them, the works which required repair, their virtues which required restoration, and tipped and turned within the moment.

The crew of pirates barged themselves in to the heavily crowded Royal Anchor, chattering loudly and tipping over anything that moved. The bar was much more populated than it ever is - due to it's particular location, it is much less championed than it's competitor, the Rowdy Rooster. Those who filled the room now were simply those who did not wish to squeeze theirselves in to the Rooster, but nevertheless, it was business, and to that the tender was happy within herself. Candles hung around the walls keeping the bar dimly lit, for fear that the latterns would be easily knocked over and create a fire, which was extremely lethal in such a packed area. Every single of the seats were filled, at the benches by the fireplace, the tables, at the side of the wall, so a majority had either found themselves sitting on tables (all but that of the makeshift games of Blackjack and Poker) or on the floor, still content to the bustling atmosphere.

"... so he ended up only getting away with one of his eyes out and one of his arms severed. Thats why we call him the Ole Blind Stump!" Delmaria laughed as he plopped his arm down on the bar, talking to the crew, which then joined him at the sides.

They all continued laughing, and in good spirits, Bankok called out, "Hey, what about that time you headed of to that island off of England?"

"Ah, you mean my trip to Edward's Isle, aye?" The rest of the group nodded, anticipating a story. "Yes, I remember it well. I had helped a local group of rumrunners in London liberate a few barrels from a tavern called the Fox and Hounds, and was to told to recieve my payment on some uncharted island off the Eastern coast.It was quite a sail, but I was willing to do anything for me shiny.

So after a few days of stormy sailing, we docked at the isle, a dank, deserted fishing town of sorts. Really misty place. Filled with rotted houses, a few gutted ships, and all the stuff that makes fer a real ghost town. Anyway, I was forced to look around for a bit, until I came across th-" Delmaria was interrupted by the loud resistance of large man, a pirate, throwing a glass bottle across the room, crashing against the wall. He jumped up from his seat at a poker tables and cried loudly "Cheating...!", a sentence filled with horrible obscenities. It looked as though he was attempting to pull something out from his long, worn overcoat, but he didn't react quickly enough. Opposite from him, a pistol rang out. While he was not facing him, the pirates saw too well his body splatter across his body, falling to the ground in a heap of dead weight.

A seductive voice moistened by a mix between an Irish and English accent laughed from the other side of the gambling space. "I apologize mate, but I believe that I'm the last one standing amongst ys, hm? I'll take the initiative of taking your personal affects, seeing as you won't need them." The figure gestured two scruffy crewmen over to the body, picking it up and leading it out of the tavern, obviously to be looted and then ridded of appropiately, probably wrapped in a dinghy cloth at the base of a missionary's home. The silence that had covered the room slowly began to break, as man after man turned their heads back to the previous topic at hand.

The pirate crew by the bar stood completely still, all except for Delmaria, who walked across the room against all judgement. The crew watched hopelessly as their captain strutted straight up to the table, right up to the seat where the man once sat. He gazed upon not a man, but a woman, nearly dressed all in a faded green outfit, aside from a bright red and dark black vest, strapped together by an assortment of gold buckels and pins across the middle. That, and a lightly tanned, feathered hat. Her long, red hair was braided in to a ponytail, which hung over her left shoulder to prevent in from swaying back and forth, as she was leaning carelessly back in a wooden chair, elegant Spanish boots crossed on top of the table. As she fooled with a small gold coin in between the fingers of her left hand, she gazed her greenish-blue eyes blankly on the table, until she noticed the figure who had approached her. She ushered a wide smile, showing off a pair of dimples squarely in the middle of her cheeks. "Well I'll be damned," that same voice spoke up. "Delmaria my old friend, I haven't seen you in-"

"Years, indeed. But I was not expecting to come across the infamous 'Pirate Queen of the West," in a low-brow Caribbean tavern such as this. Raiding lowly British warships giving you a bore, has it?"

"Truly. I required a little more adventure, don't I?" She ran her eyes up and down the man. "The years haven't been that generous to you. You look ancient for only a man 35 years of age."

Delmaria chuckled to himself. "You still remember my age. Well Leanne, I can't exactly say you're far down the line, now can I?"

The quick glimpse of a smile sprinted across her face, before she caught herself and smothered it. He beckoned him to sit in the dead man's chair, while he followed suit to do. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind a quick game of Straight Poker, for old times sake." Her eyes twinkled mischeviously as he snapped her finger at the dealer. "Proceed."

The dealer quickly shuffled out the respective number of cards to each of the players who sat around the table - Delmaria, Leanne, and three gambling addictors who spent nearly every waking moment trying to strike a big deal. Their bloodshot eyes acted as a metaphor for their useless chase of riches. The group quickly picked up their cards, and ran their eyes across the pair. Two of the regular players wipped their face dramatically, in distraut, and threw their cards down at the table before the blinds were even made. The other three sat stotic, not showing an ounce of emotion.

And so they began, carelessly throwing gold coins to the center of the table. They clanked loudly against each other as they bounced in to pile, which had begun to both expand and ascend itself. Not before long, it had grown in to a small hill of some few hundred coins, which were now being tossed in random amounts by the town pirates, almost making for a game within the game. The other of the three had folded by the time it hit two hundred, out of fear this would escalate in to a savage betting war. And sure enough, it did.

As the dance of greed continued on, more and more people began encircling the table, caught in awe by the epic battle which took place merely a few centimeters from them. The mere fact it had continued for nearly twenty minutes, without even a sign of stopping, was astounding. The crowd stood there tantalized by the thousands of gold which laid before them, only growing bigger by a furious throwing match between the two. It had gotte so mind numbing that they both had lost count of how much the pot was, much less was anybody else.

Finally, Delmaria took notice of theshocked, almost intimidated face of Leanne. "What's the matter Miss O'Malley, the gambling a little to tough fer you?" He laughed a small, taunting laugh, not by his mouth, but by his eyes.

Leanne was now leaning over the table, both elbows planted firmly down, her hat tilted downwards, blocking his view of her more-than-likely fearful eyes. She tried to calm herself by laughing at herself, "I must admit, I haven't nearly been in a game as high-takes as this, Mr. Darkskull. I'm guessing I... am caught in the moment?"

"Well, the game has turned in to nothing but a monotonous game of back-and-forth, now hasn't it. What's to say we make our final bets, a simple valuable which the other may find worthy of obtaining."

"What do you mean, exactly?" O'Malley leaned herself farther over the table in curiousity.

"Surely you didn't come here for a game of poker, nor would you yourself be willing to aid us in that battle which transpired a while ago. All I ask that, if I happen to win, you tell me your plans for this voyage of yours, and allow me to accompany you and your crew."

"And what would I happen to get if I won?" Leanne leaned back sternly in her chair, arms crossed.

Delmaria reached his right arm over to his left side and pulled out his sword, gleaming and sparkling as ever. With the sleeve of his jacket protecting his hand from it's handle, he lightly tossed it on top of the gold coins, it blade pratically blending in with it. Without saying a word, he watched as everybody across the room widen their eyes in amazement and shock.

Lawrence ran up behind him followed by the rest of the crew, clamping his hands down on the captain's shoulder. Delmaria looked up to face him, as Lawrence whispered hardly, "Captain, you can't be serious! If she wins..."

All Delmaria had to do was wink for the first mate to stop, and back away. Darkskull returned him attention to Leanne, and nodded her to lay down the five cards. "Delmaria you fool!" She coughed as she laid down her cards. A Queen of hearts, a Joker of spades, a 10 of diamonds, a 9 of diamonds, and an 8 of spades. "Straight to the Queen! Haha!"

Delmaria smirked. "A cute hand, I admit. Sadly, My Queen, you lose." Delmaria laid down his. An ace of each kind, alongside a King of Diamonds. "Five of a Kind."

The crowd gasped at a time, as Leanne's jaw dropped nearly to the table. Without a word, but an immensely large smile on his face, Delmaria stood up and grabbed him cutlass, placing in back at his side. "A good game indeed, madame. Lawrence, do me a favor and collect the gold for me. Come, Miss O'Malley, we must discuss." He walked by her, still seated and staring in shock, and swiped her arm, pulling her out of the tavern.

Outside it was still dark and clear as ever, the lights twinkling above. The celebration had calmed just barely, but it still echoed off in to the distance. As the door slammed behind them, Darkskull walked in a perfectly straight line, stopping just before the end of a stone cliff, and a plunge to the shallows below. He leaned up againt a large pile of boxes, held together by a large net, and waited for Leanne, who stormed up behind him. She looked as though she was going to slap him, but his mellow face relaxed her. She walked quitly and joined him a the side.

They stood there for a few minutes in silence, overlooking the port, to the charred dock, to the bonfires still blazing at the base of the beach, the to the festival which uncurled. Finally, she spoke. "I asure you've heard of the rumors, aye?"

"I've heard many rumors in this place Leanne, clarfication would be appreciated." Delmaria smirked without expression.

"Of the Abu Nar, of their travels in to the New World in search of trade, yes?"

"Ah, yes. Go on."

She sighed and took a step foward, then turning about face to stare in to Delmaria. "There is an abandoned fort previously used by the Spanish army of the northwestern coast of Rio Hacha. It has been established by free traders as a black market of sorts, selling various goods one could not obtain anywhere else across the global. It is heard that the Abu Nar have set up a small shop there, and are selling only some of the finest daggers across the planet. Of course, I don't plan to buy them." She winked as she slipped her hands in to her pockets.

"Excellent. Well, I suggest we leave port at the break of dawn tomorrow morn. Rest assured, your gold will only be spent without care and on only useless garbage." Delmaria began to walk up towards the bridge he defended on a few hours ago, and began his ascent, before turning around one last time. "Oh, and Miss O'Malley.."

"Yes?"

"Your cheating method is terrible. If you ask me, hiding a few aces under your hat works just fine."

Sorry this took so long, never got around the time to finishing this. Well, my pretties, here you go:

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June 29th, 1724
Northeast of Rio Hacha, Fort of St. Peter Claver
12:26 PM

The sun beat down viciously from it's stronghold in the sky straight above the enclosed mouth, one of the many that danced around the large coast. The clear blue skys were nearly the exact opposite of the abandoned fort. From the beach, it sat a large distance away, some fifteen meters away. It was a daunting sight, the dark, tarnished, stone fort standing as though it were a single, thick wall. The only opening at it's front was a large archway, nearly touching the very top of the front wall, which hid in small, square peeks a walkway within the fort, used to patrol back and forth. It would have been a fearsome sight, except for the fact it had lost it's care with it's soldiers dead and gone. It was now rambled, fallen apart, veins twining around it. What would have been challenging view to any foe, was nothing better than laughable.

Merchant tents dotted all around the outside of the fort, though it looked like the majority of the activity occurred within the fort. There were many pirates from many places, selling many things - Far Eastern pirates selling rare, eccentric silks, West African pirates selling crazy, often hideous furs, only caught by the strange eye of Delmaria himself. To think this mere failure of a Spanish fort had become a heavan of commerce.

The two crews of pirates, those of the Shark and the Queen, ported themselves in the makeshift bay, and took seperate row boats towards the renegade port. When they docked, they continued to exchange strange glances and glares, studying each others features, the two crews of two different worlds. One raised off of blood and hatred in the lands of Northern Europe, the others born of freedom and heart within the Caribbean. The only two who did not even give each other a blink were Delmaria and Leanne, both dressed in flamboyant, boasting outfits, making their presence known. Pirates among pirates.

They instructed their crews, who slowly began to converge in a thick atmosphere of distrust, towards the entrance of the fort, parting the dazzled crowd of pirates they passed. As the shadows of the archway cloacked them, Leanne spoke over to Darkskull "How does it feel to walk in the footsteps of Sir Francis Drake, Mr. Darkskull?" she taunted in an elegant, "better-than-you" tone.

"More common than you'll ever have the pleasure of knowing." He volleyed back, in the same tone.

By now they had walked themselves in to the thick of the black market before them. The wide, open fort was filled with tents and booths, clustered and cluttered all across the way. Pirates and merchants of all nationalities raced back and forth like ants, screaming bids for rare items, fighting, shouting, running away with as much stuff as their hands could carry. Above the orderly chaos, where the walkways that hid behind the top of the fort walls were, a small militia of hired mercenaries walked back and forth, protecting the area from any sign of unwelcomed visitors. A few of them on the wall of to the group's right took the time to glare down at them suspiciously, looking as though they were prepared to fire the muskets they kept at hand. Slowly they turned their attention back outward, and the group of pirates went on their way.

The majority of the group had split up before they even began their way through the shops. Grace and Wisdom had become entranced by a group of witchdoctors from Africa selling their crafts and ominous trinkets. Firesteel, Lawrence, and Andrew made their way over to a small blacksmithing tent. The rest went about their way, wandering through the tides of people, as they swayed back and forth, left and right, like the confused waves of the ocean.

Leanne tugged at the sleeve of Delmaria's long coat as he was guided through the masses of pillagers and privateers. At each and every turn, his eye was caught by a different object, treasure, relic, from lands near and far. The colors, the pure diversity of the atmosphere swirled around him at an atonishing rate. This simple hide-away for thieves and scoundrels was not all of that only, but it was a melting pot, where ideas could be transferred, goods could be bought and sold. An urban mecca of outlaws, this was.

Delmaria was awoken from his blank stare at the world when he and Leanne came to an abrupt stop. He looked around furiously to see where they had ended up. They were in the farthest northwestern corner of fort, where the first few slivers of shade began to lure down from a tall, disshelved guard tower that sat above them. The life was less dense here, only a few people walking by here and there. It seemed as though they were afraid of what they were passing - heads down, eyes wandering away, feet in a near-sprint. After combing the area, he looked to what sat before him.

Craddled in the corner of the fort was a medium-sized, royal purple tent, elegantly curving itself inward, then upward in a magnificent spire. The vertexes where the various silk walls merged were painted in a rich, shining gold color, bright and knightly as the sun. Around the tent sat assortments of rugs, golden trinkets, silverware and furniture, and on-going racks of Near-Eastern weaponry. Directly before them sat two loose folds of material on the tent, acting as a stately doorway in to the realm of convergence for the lands of Asia, Africa and Europe. A burly, heavily tanned man stood at the entrance, standing in a very authoritative stance, legs wide, arms crossed, eyes firmly glaring down at the two pirates. Leanne shockingly stepped foward, meaning Delmaria was to follow.

The guard began to ramble some foreign Arabic tongue at the two. He was unsure what he was saying, but by the tone of his voice, he didn't seem particularly happy. By the time he finished his savage rant, Leanne had already planned out her moves. She shyly stepped foward, not even dazed by the horrifying sight before them, and slowly began to roll out a strange list of words and statements, in the exact same tongue as the man. She only showed a pleasant emotion, but it was obvious by the way the man at the door had calmed down that she had been working her magic. After she finished, she bowed her head in thanks, and the man opened the curtain, allowing entrance.

The two pirates stepped in to what looked like the Arabic version of a gypsy tent. It had a very soft, majestic mood to it - there was barely any solid furniture, and if it were solid, it was gold. The rest of the room was simple pillows, arranged so neatly and finely that it looked as though a king dwelled within these quarters. It was also extensively dark in the room, due to the lack of openings in the tent. Still, a few candles that were scattered around the room pointed out the finest details of the tiger-patterned fabrics that lined the room. At one of the small circles of pillows sat a very elderly man, nearly completely covered; the only part of his body that you saw was a few parts of his faces, and the tips of his fingers. A long, snowy, winding beard poked out through the small piece of cloth that covered his chin and neck at the front, lowering in a straight line all the way to the middle of his stomach. He wore a large, regal turban atop his head, graced at the front with a silver plate, and a single birds feather. The man sat at his little circle, writing something with his slow and shaken hands down on a piece of parchment, on a little glass table that stood before him. Only before they stepped closer were the pirates noticed.

His dark, tanned skin contrasted deeply with his bright, glazing eyes. They peered directly through them, soft, aged, learned. Unlike the guard, he smiled at their sight. He spoke to them in an old, cracked, Middle-Eastern voice, "Ah, marhaba!, my guests. Salam aw aleikum!"

Before Leanne could respond, Delmaria cut her off, "Wa aleikum ah salam, mate." He nodded in a friendly way as he walked towards the man.

"An English man? Very interesting..." He turned his attention to Leanne, running his eye up and down her. "And an Irish woman... lovely, indeed... should you two be in lock?"

The rapidly shook their heads. "No, no, my friend," Delmaria assured.

"Ah, I see. Very well then. What is it that brings you here? The truths of life, of love loved and lost, of happiness?"

Without a verbal response, O'malley simply winked at the man.

"Ah, yes.." The old man clapped his hands twice. "Jad, bring our welcomed visitors.. the storage." He choked to a man behind him. They had not noticed anybody there, but only a few seconds later, sure enough, a man clothed in the same way as the elder, only much, much younger, came in carring a heavy roll of cloth. He laid it down perfectly on the table, and immediately resumed his post at the back wall of the tent.

The old man unraveled the cloth to reveal a wide assortment of daggers. Some were large, shining, curved, dark, straight, winding, simple, complex, iron, steel, copper, cobalt; all of them were beautiful. But all Leanne did was chuckle as she said "It would be better if you could show us your.. special.. storage." She winked at the man. Dishonored, he beckoned Jad towards him again, whispering something in his ear. He turned and disappeared back to the hidden end of the tent, and then, sure enough, he returned moments later, this time carrying with him a single leather sheath. He laid it down on to the table, and once again returned to his post.

Leanne reached out in curiousity and picked up the sleak leather container. It was in two parts, one small end, which held in it the handle, and the other, which held the blade. Slowly and carefully, she revealed the handle first. It's handle was much longer than it's width, curling in a majestic curve, starting from where it met the blade, keeping itself straight for a few moments, and then drastically yet evenly and beautifully beginning to curve. The handle itself was a deep, shiny, metalic black, most likely obsidian, crafted to make small, detailed designs on the dagger, depicting beasts from old lore in the East.

Already mistified, she wrapped her jeweled hand around the dagger, clenching it protectively. She slowly uncovered the blade, to reveal a what they all believed was a masterpiece, shockingly astounding and tantalizing to the eye. The blade began it's ascent shifting alightly from side to side, in a slowly curving fashion, making it's way outward to the same side the point of the hilt pointed to. Then, as it hit it's peak like the waves of the ocean, it broke itself in the other direction, spiraling in to a point, formulating a half circle at it's end that was a pinch longer than that of the hilt's spin. The blade had little rifts and dips in it, creating the illusion of the waves curling through the seas. But it's most magical aspect, was what it looked like. The blade was, itself, the sea. It was blue, but not just one shade. They were mixed together, light, dark, navy, royal, all in one, changing a shifting, peaking in differnent areas, then fading away, only to pop again in another place. As well as this, it flowed, too. It looked as though there were waves of the ocean within the blade, swaying, dancing, breaking, crashing, flowing. The dagger was not moving, yet what was within the dagger was.

Leanne held it so intently, not giving any attention at all to the world around her. The man spoke out to break her amazement. "You like it, yes?"

Her head nodded slowly, still struck by the awesome sight. "It's.. it's the most beautiful sight that I've ever... I.." she stammered, at a loss for words.

"Yes. I sensed your desire for the blade. Normally such a product would go for a high price, but for you, my queen," he bowed his head in a childish, humorous, and kind manner, "you may take it with you."

"Oh-ho! Wh-wh-why thank you,... uh..."

"No need for names. And it is my pleasure, seeing as how you were going to kill me for it anyway."

Leanne was flustered, embarrassed almost, and about to respond, when a loud crack rang out from behind them. It sounded like a heavy musket shot, but before they could respond to it, an entire flurry, a hailstorm of fire erupted from outside, scaring the two pirates, and jolting them towards the old man, who had sat opposite from them. He still sat there, firm as a rock. Unchanged.

The door guard came rushing it, blood splattered across his chest and lower face. He brought in with him the noise and screaming of a thousand men and women, which was depicted through the sliver of the scene that went on, as the guard held the flap of curtain a little open with his arm behind his back. He began shouting loudly in his native tongue, and two cloaked men from the back room came in, and helped the old man up. As he was helped towards the back, he called over his shoulder. "Run, my children! May your winds be fair!" The guardsmen followed hurriedly behind the two men that walked with the elder, and pulled a massive cloak behind him. When the two began to pick themselves up, they noticed a small speck of red forming at the bottom of the cloaked that the guard entered.

Fire.

The two pirates bursted themselves out of the tent, back in to the daylight. Waves of people ran back and forth, pushing and ramming in to each other, tripping and falling - a near fatal thing in this instance - trying their very best to get out of that forsaken fort. It didn't take too long for another shot to ring out. Delmaria looked in it's direction, at the very top of the fort, along the walkway. It was a Navy soldier, shooting down at the pirates like they were caged mice. His eyes continued along the top, until he realized that the guards previously patrolling the top of the fort were simply disguised British soldiers. Fantastic.

O'Malley had already bursted out in a sprint, and had vanished like a ghost in to the crowd. Delmaria began running back towards the original entrance he and his crew had entered, pushing random people out of his way. Not like they would mind, afterall, seeing as how everybody was most likely focused on not getting themselves shot. When he bumped himself against a thick wall of pirates trying to rush down that single aisle, he made his way over to side, and jumped opver one of the benches that would have divided the buyer from the seller. He made his way down the smaller, much more cluttered path, hidden by an umbrella of sheets that covered the tops of the little various shops. He jumped, ran, hopped, and stubled, until finally he had bursted hit last bit of energy in to sprinting his way through a wall of people, and breaking out in to the port area down by the beach.

Pirates of plenty different ships and crews were randomly piling themselves in to dinghies that lined the beach, desperately doing anything they could to escape the massacre going on within the "freebooters' castle." Darkskull managed to squeeze his way in to one about to launch from in to that bay, and took up a paddle to push his way out. He noticed that Buck was the same dinghy as him, but he was too distracted and determined to take a second and acknowledge him.

Those aboard the dinghy were instructed to get out as soon as they saw their ship, as there was no time to go to each ship one by one. Thankfully, the Shark was parked close to the shore, so as soon as Buck and Del caught eye, they plunged in to the warm, rough waters. With so many ships hurrying out of port, the water had been churned signficantly, making it very hard to swim. By the time they had managed to lift themselves up on to the ship, they were exhausted, heavily gasping for air. The rest of the crew, who had left for the ship before trouble arose, helped Delmaria and Buck in to the Captain's Quarters, which was only open to visitors in the event a pirate was badly injured. As they did this, Lawrence began their way out of port. In the corner of his vision, Delmaria looked to see if the Queen was still there. It wasn't.

----------------------------------------------------

Delmaria was stripped out of his wet clothes, and had them replaced with a much lighter, more airy attire. He laid himself out on a large, cushiony bed inside his cabin, and took a moment to close his eyes and relax. At this time, Firesteel came through the door with a note in his hand. Without a word, he placed it in to his captain's hands, and walked silently outward. Unfolded, the note read:


Del,

Luckily, while you were off in your usual daze, I was able to scribble this and hand it to your crew before you and I left port. I apologize for my abrupt leave from your side, but it was simply too dangerous for us to stay in the same place. Rest assured, my crew and I are fine, with the dagger in tow.

If you would prefer, I am seeking refuge in The Samballeos until the current situation calms down. And I highly suggest you join me, as your presence would be comforting to me.

If you don't happen to understand my reasoning, allow me to explain. Word amongst my crew is that Jolly Roger's forces have become increasingly violent ever since his attack on Port Royal failed. Reports of ships and their crews going missing have increased rapidly in the past few days.

Not to mention the kidnappings. One of my mates told me he heard back at the port of man that had lost his son one day when he wandered off in to the Governor's Garden - you know, that forbidden woods behind the mansion? Another says a house was burned down due to "supernatural powers." Interesting indeed.

I would prefer not to allow myself to get caught in the thick of this conflict. Please take in to serious consideration my offer. A "time-off" would be good for pirates such as ourselves.

~ Leanne

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That was definately one of the harder chapters to write, mainly because it is basically a mini-conflict going on in the middle of the story. However, it provided a good reason for a transition, so I'm glad I can use this to continue the overall story. Please remember to comment and critique! Next chapter will be ready soon!

There are a lot of typos I noticed (using the spell check on my browser), but overall, great job Del :D

Bleck, thanks Sven. I'll be sure to destroy all remaining typos in a little.

ALSO, a notice to any story followers of mine: the next chapter will be that last of the thread, as the story will be shifting dramatically. After that, I'll be posting a new thread, with the next part.

awesome! cant wait!! :D

Alright mates, here be the final chapter of the thread. I hope ye enjoy it!

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The Darkskull crew managed to reach the Samballeos islands within the first few days of July, after virtually smooth sailing, and no contact with enemy ships. These waters were very remote, which provided a safe-haven for many pirates, often cooling themselves on the small archipelagos for weeks at a time.

There islands themselves were really just small sand bars, each having their own forms of wild vegetation, only sparsely. The largest was perhaps three and a half kilometers long and two hundred meters wide. The distance between the different atolls was astoundingly small, as though one could swim from one to another with barely any effort. The clear, blue waters reflected off of the sky of the same stature, not a spec of a cloud in vision. Paradise in a world of conflict, it was.

The crew was welcomed aboard the larger of the landmasses very warmingly by Leanne's crew, who had unloaded their cargo and created a small encampment, equipped with various tents for shelter, a table for eating, and even a small bonfire in the middle, small enough to prevent the smoke from catching the eye of enemy ships, but large enough to provide some form of a homely atmosphere.

The crews spent their days wandering about the island, trading various possessions they all had collected, catching and cooking crabs for dinner, taking a swim in the warm waters, and even practiced their sword fighting skills with makeshift cutlasses and sabers’, cut in to shape out of a few trees that laid fallen on the island. When night fell upon them, they would all gather about the bonfire and sing, dance, drink, and relax with their brothers and sisters of the same ideal and truths. Even Delmaria, the often calmed and stoic captain, partook in the wild atmosphere. However, one night, Leanne and Delmaria both wandered off around the island, slipping away secretly from their own crews.

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July 3rd, 1724
The Samballeos islands
1:22 AM

The two pirates, side by side, walked through the small forestation of the island silently, admiring the beautiful landscape that swirled around them. The waves quietly curled themselves on to the beach, then retreating back to its mother ocean, longing to be cradled in her arms as they gazed at the hundreds of stars that twinkled about them.

They came to a small opening in the limited amount of trees, and took a seat, side by side, facing so that they peered in between two medium-sized palm trees, and a small bush, to the easy, glistening sea.

“I appreciate you for coming and joining us, Delm- Del.” Leanne stammered cautiously, not hoping to spoil the mood.

“It was my pleasure. Being here reminds of the time when I was younger, when I would watch my father’s ‘merchant ship’ pull out of port.” Delmaria sighed softly after he wrapped the quotation marks around “merchant ship” with his hands.

“Your father was a great man, Del. One of the finest sailors Britain may have ever known.” She tried to wrap an arm around the pirate, but she held back, wondering what the appropriate measure would have been.

He chuckled in the cloak he covered his sadness with. “If only he could have been as good of a father as he was a husband to the waters.” The statement brought a long, contemplating silence with it. Leanne looked in opposite of Delmaria, towards the rough direction of Northeast.

Finally, she mustered enough courage to make her move, and placed a light hand on Delmaria’s knee cap. For the first time of the evening he raised his head to face Leanne. She shivered on the inside as she stared in to his soft, depressed, dark brown eyes. The pupil was surrounded by a light red hue, indicating he hadn’t been sleeping for at least a few good days.

“Del, come with my crew and I back to Europe. It’s too dangerous for you to sail around these waters anymore, with the reputation you’ve given yourself.”

“Ah, yes. It would be nice to return to my home states… but I cannot. What I ask of you, is to stay with me, in the Caribbean.” Del reversed her offer, with the kind of look in his eyes that made you want to say yes even if you didn’t want to. Like the soft, pleading look in a beggar’s eyes when he asks for a morsel of bread.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t, De-“

He persisted. “But look at what we stand in, Leanne!” He circled his hands outward, representing the entirety of the Caribbean. “We live in a world of our own kind! The last stronghold against the ideals of the slave masters they call kings and nobles!” She seemed doubtful still, so he took hold on both her hands in his. “Come with me, Leanne. Think of what we could do, together! We’re unlimited, my friend!”

Despite his attempts, she nodded her head no. She stood herself up, and stepped back a few feet. Se rose her head up high, and looked at him with the bottom of her eyes. “I hope your happy, Mr. Darkskull, now that you’ve chosen this path.”

He also stood up, and looked back, an apologetic look in his eyes. “I refuse to allow these waters be taken from me. My crew and I will be departing for Port Royal at dawn.” He stepped forward slowly, and picked up her left hand in his right, drawing them closer together. “I wish the best of luck, my dear friend.”, and laid a small kiss on her cheek. They froze in the moment, two blue diamonds on a green field.

He slowly withdrew himself, both of them walking backwards, as they let their hands slip from the lock that bound them together. They gave each other a final glance, and Delmaria turned himself back towards the party that raged on the beach. Once again, a single blue diamond on a green field.

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And so, they chronicles ends. But do not fret! The first chapter of the next thread is under way! This was all just a chain of events that acted as a bridge - now, your gonna be thrown in to the bigger plot. Thanks for reading!

Aaaahhhh! Okay, finally leaving a review, and it begins with that. Sorry.

Del, I can't tell you how much I adore this story (and the Wicked reference-yes I caught that). The fact that you're able to fluidly incorporate some of the current events of the game, like the Daggers, the Jolly Moon, and the invasions, is incredible. The description and the dialogue flow so well together and makes the story even more entertaining. I eagerly await the new thread mate. :)