The Chronicles of Delmaria Darkskull

[Captain Del]

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 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

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.

[CaptainMonkeys]

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

[Sven Osymthe]

Nice job Del

[Jose HookHound]

WOW nice DEL !

[angel 4ever]

awesome!! del!!

[Captain Del]

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.

[James Badwalker]

Awesome! Nice job Del!

[Jackfiresteel]

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

[Jose HookHound]

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

[Captain Del]

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.

[Jose HookHound]

AWESOME!! keep it up!

[Luckie OClover]

<------- Luckie
Del thanks for such a captivating story

You have me very interested in reading how the
Chronicles of Delmaria Darkskull play out

Now back to typing

[Captain Del]

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! )

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

[angel 4ever]

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

[Luckie OClover]

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.

Thank You again for another wonderful chapter

Originally Posted by Captain Del

........ 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.

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