Those Condemned to Freedom

[Captain Del]

On a second thought, I decided not to do the blog, to preserve the mysteriousness of my characters. Rest assured, all shall be explained - in time

At least with not doing the blog, I could make this chapter nice and chunky. So, my friends, enjoy!

Interrogation

The heavy mist lined the streets of Tortuga, swirling in with the torrential downpours that blanketed the port as a warm, humid landscape. Commoners rushed in between buildings, long, heavy coats and hats draped over their heads to protect themselves from the water. Out in the bay, the masses of ships were left still, as the droplets pounded against the easy surface of the harbor. The usually crowded, busy port was, in a rare occasion, silent on this morning, the bargainers, merchants, thieves, and pirates alike all crowded in their ships or in their homes. The rain brought with it a serene atmosphere, as though it cleansed the earth of its ordinary chaos.

The Faithful Bride was relatively empty, for a change. Coupled with the weather, the rumors of what transpired the night before turned the day overall in to a laid back one, using it as an excuse to maintain yourself at home. Carver pushed open the blue double-doors of the old Spanish-styled tavern, opening up to the blasting of rain in the small, grassy, stone corridor that the bar was located in. Although the rain was heavy, it still had that dim brightness that was enough to light the entire tavern in an easy grey light - a nice change, from the dim, yellow and brown lighting. The bartender waved to Doctor Grogan, who was closing his doors to prevent his patients from catching anything from the murkiness. He was surely about to advise Carver to close his doors, too, if he had not walked back in to the peaceful tavern to finally get back to business.

The only other person in the room was Delmaria, sitting on a chair with it's back leaned up against one of the wooden support beams in the room. He stared blankly as Carver went about his business, tidying the room from all the empty, fogged glass bottles that lined across the tables, wiping them down with a wet rag. He hummed a light sea shanty, pretending nobody was there, but ever so often he would look up to gaze at the patiently waiting Delmaria, his eyes baring down at him. His persistence began to bother Carver to the point where we steadily walked over to the bar, put down the glass bottles he had collected, and reached over the counter, picking up two green glass bottles. He walked towards Delmaria, swept up a chair, dragging it across the floor, and pulling it up in front of the pirate, plopping down. He handed a bottle to Darkskull, which he unemotionally accepted, and popped open his, taking a swig. "How long do you suppose it'll be before they're ready?" Carver asked after his drink.

"Not sure. Leanne is the squeamish type, that's for sure." Delmaria nodded, staring down at his bottle. He wasn't in the mood for a drink.

"I hope you realize the fire that you left behind some time ago in that office room up there cost me quite a lot." he commented pestering. "It's gonna be a while before I can find anybody to clean that mess up."

"Wasn't my fault we were being followed up there. For all I know, you could've set us up for that little escapade, had you intentionally not obstructed them at the door." Delmaria eyed the bartender devilishly, finally taking a small sip from the rum. It poured down his dry throat like an acid, but it was the righteous kind of burn alcohol gives you.

Finally, they heard a flurry of footsteps coming down from the attic. They looked to the walkway that was above the bar, down in the far corner, where a small, dark staircase came down from the attic. Anne bounced down them quickly, stopping at the last step, and looking down at the two chatters. "She's ready when you are, Delmaria." The female pirate then proceeded to walk down the walkway, turning in to a hallway, and opening and shutting the door of a bedroom. It was like her to go to sleep in somebody else’s home without asking.

Delmaria glanced back at Carver, before sliding his bottle on to a nearby table and heading for the stairs that led to the second story.

1

Delmaria walked up in to the dark attic, slamming the trap door that opened to the staircase below shut. It was a cramped, small room, just at the top of the Faithful Bride. The roof slanted upward from the far side of the room, reaching its tallest point where it met the wall behind Delmaria. The two ends of the room had two small, open windows, which looked out over Tortuga - one facing out in the direction of the bay, and the other peaking through the continuing streets and buildings of the port, the rising jungle landscape with its massive hills far in the background. The outer edge of the room was lined with boxes and crates, and in the middle, sat a table. At the end of the table that pointed out to the window that looked back over the rest of Tortuga, was Leanne, bound by the hands and feet to a wooden chair. A lock of hair fell in front of her ragged, angry face, which showed signs that she fought from getting tied down. No wonder Anne was so tired.

Delmaria sat down in to the chair opposite from her. The two pirates stared at each other, not wanting to say anything. Leanne looked stern, unwilling to cooperate, while Delmaria was blank, unmoving. Finally, he took a deep breath, and proceeded. "Alright, Ms. O'Malley, we'll start from the beginning. Why are you back in these waters?"

Leanne just sat there, stoic as a rock. The intensity in her eyes told Darkskull she would not move no matter what question he asked. He sighed again, and got up from the table. He walked over to the trap door that led back to the tavern, and kicked it with his heel three times. He then stepped off, and waited about three minutes, before it opened. Carver peaked his head up, and, smiling, slid a full bucket of water on to the floor, then closing the door behind him. Delmaria picked up the heavy wooden bucket, and reached in to his pocket, as he began to talk to Leanne. "Ms. O'Malley, I'm sure you are familiar with the Spanish Inquisition, correct?" When she did not respond, he pulled out a long, dirty piece of cloth from his pocket, and continued. "A very well organized group of men, indeed. Willing to go by any means to gather vital information. Of course, what they are most famous for is their forms of torture."

As Leanne's eyes widened in realization, Darkskull walked behind her, throwing the rag over her face from behind. He tied it in a knot at the back of her head, so her face was completely covered, and forcibly tilted it back. As she tried to kick her legs and throw her head, Delmaria reached for the bucket, saying, "A personal favorite of mine is known as the tortura del agua. Allow me to enlighten you on this." He tilted her head back once more and tilted the bucket towards her, letting the water pour slowly down on to the cloth of her face. He could hear her begin to kick and scream as the cloth became heavier and wetter. He was drowning her.

Finally, he stopped the flow of water and tore the cloth off her face, leaving the woman gasping for air, her hair and face drenched. He slammed the bucket down at the foot of his chair, and sat back down, looking at her. "So, I'll ask you again: Why are you here?"

Instead of answering, she spit out a mouthful of water at him, hitting him at the top of the torso, wetting his vest. He rolled his eyes, and reached for the bucket, pulling it up and thrusting it towards her, sending a tidal wave of water in to her face. The force of the water rocked her body and her chair back, slamming down to the floor in a pool of water. Delmaria got up, gripped the back of the chair, and pulled it back up to its original position, Leanne trying to shake the water from her face. Delmaria once again returned to his seat. "Again, why are you here?"

Finally, in between gasps of air, she answered him. "I'm a treasure hunter, Delmaria. I came here solely for what Bloodskull left behind, and not to partake in any trivia."

"Don't play games with me. You know I know too well that you wouldn't come back here for something as foolish as a piece of treasure. Why don't you continue to talk before I go get Carver to fill up that bucket again?"

Leanne sighed, and turned her head away, looking around the room. "Do you remember the note I left you, when we left that market in Rio Hacha?"

"Of course. Why?"

"The kidnappings, Delmaria. Jolly Roger has been coming more and more vicious as the weeks go by. First it was that school boy in Port Royal. They went looking everywhere for him. And do you know where they found him? In the caves, dead. He was reduced to a skeleton. Oh, but it didn't stop there.

"While you were off gallivanting around the seas, more and more people and ships were going missing. But they weren't just ordinary people - they were the relatives of people that had wronged Roger in the past. The boy was the nephew of a Navy Officer who had sunk two of Roger's War Ships out in the Hinterseas. A woman kidnapped on Padres was supposed to be the sister of a pirate that went off on a deal with Roger. He wasn't doing this just by random, Delmaria - just like you and I, Roger has a hit list. And a long one, too."

"So what does this have to do with you?" Delmaria leaned in.

"I knew as soon as I heard about the events in throughout the islands, I had to go protect.." she choked a little bit, and then looked up at him. "My son, Delmaria. I knew that Jolly was going to try to kill my son, off in England. I tried to stop him, but when I got there, he was..." she lowered her head, trying to fight back tears.

"At least there are no relatives of mine left. My father is God knows where, my mother, wife, and son are all dead. The only person I can think of is.." he gasped, coming to a realization. "Marina..."

Leanne lifted up her head, nodding. "I saw her, a few days ago, here. She looked fine."

Delmaria ran to the trap door, and shouted down. "CARVER! Wake Anne up and have her find my daughter, NOW!", slamming the door, now stressed out. He paced back and forth across the floor, his hands gripping his hair. Finally, he walked back to Leanne, and leaned down to her. "What does this have to do with you selling out to the Navy, hmm?"

She rolled her eyes. "I needed protection, Delmaria. I came back to these waters for my son, and nothing else."

Delmaria slapped her across the face. "So you condemn your fellow pirates to prosecution, just so you can protect your own hide?" he got up, walking around the room. "Pirate Queen... HA!" he turned back towards her. "And the treasure? What would that have to do with your son?"

She tilted her head, to look down at Delmaria's side. "The cutlass is... well, different, than others."

Delmaria rubbed the handle of his blade curiously, still looking at Leanne, but with intrigue on his face. "How so? Does it have some sort of power, to kill Roger?"

"Oh, of course not." She rolled her head. "Any blade or weapon can kill him, hypothetically. The only power in that blade is... fear. I can't explain, because I've never held it myself," she edged at him, "but you should understand soon enough."

Suddenly Delmaria could feel the blood rushing through his body. Thoughts of Leanne's son made him think of his own - painful, flashing memories. There were few, but the burning in his soul hissed at a raging speed. He felt that same anger that he did before; his hands were shaking, his face became hot. He slammed his hands on the opposite side of the table from O'Malley and shouted at her, "What did you do with our son!?"

She responded in a snap, like she was expecting it. "I never did ANYTHING to Delpa-"

"You're LYING, Maria! You're always LYIN-"

"HE'S NOT MY SON!" she spat at him. It brought a tense, sharp silence to the room, as she took a breath, and continued. "I don't know what the hell you've had on your mind for the past few years, but you're WRONG Delmaria. We never had a son, and I am n-"

"So what, now you claim you're not my WIFE, eithe-"

"YOUR WIFE IS DEAD!" she shrieked at him, now frustrated at his stubbornness. "Delmaria, Maria was killed years ago, when you weren't there for her, AND YOUR SON, and there is nothing you can do to convince me, or anybody else that you can change that!" she paused, as Darkskull started to calm. "It's happening already, isn't it.." she whispered to herself.

At that moment, Carver popped his head up through the wooden door. "Anne is waiting for you, Captain." He caught sight of the soaking wet Leanne, and chuckled to himself as he left the door open, slinking down the stairs.

Delmaria was still caught in disarray. He felt as though he was being torn in to two sides, two completely different people. He couldn't tell if what he knew was true, or just his imagination.

As he walked towards the trap door, O'Malley called from behind him. "This is a war now, Delmaria." He turned around in interest, to let her continue. "You think that this is still a rebellion? No, it's beyond that now. You are a part of a nation of pirates, fighting for its independence in this world. And you are one of its generals, my friend." She smiled at him.

He walked towards her, slowly. His heavy boots pattered on the pools of water that soaked the ground. "Yes, Leanne," he commented. "And you're the traitor."

2

The buckets of rain that hit him as the pirate trudged through the streets of Tortuga smacked against his hat like heavy, large bullets, patting it loudly. The water droplets that floated through the air fogged everything before him, although he could still make out all of the buildings, walls, and little accessories that made the quarters of Old Tortuga so friendly and noticeable. The air of the port was just right, warm, humid, yet not sticky and uncomfortable. Delmaria, for once, felt a little more comfortable in the usual heavy clothing that he cloaked himself in.

He broke out of the mixes of nooks and crannies of the Spanish-styled quarters of Tortuga, where most of it's most remarked buildings were, outside of the walls, and banking down a narrow path that led just at the edge of the swamp. This area of the town was a very strange, weird place, known by its inhabitants, and the townspeople of the rest of the town, as the "Trimestres Mystic."

This length of shacks and huts ran in the farthest West area of the port, running down from the West of the middle of the town, running down in a single path down the side, and then eventually merging with the swamp, to lead out in to the main beach of the port. The swamp lingered just next to it, small juts through the dark, dank plants and trees leading out in to the murky waters that waited after the short decline. The winding hills and curves on the path were accompanied by eccentric, run down shacks, huts, and carts, where gypsies, mystics, doctors, and those just looking to gather a few voodoo trinkets emerged themselves in each other's presence.

The Quarters were much quieter than usual, today. Only a few raggedy-looking people were outside, silently enjoying the rain that doused them. Small coins, shrunken heads, and bones that were left out on tables, and hanging from the roofs of the houses on strings jingled lightly under the rain. He looked in every crevice and section of the small path, but as he went, he didn't notice his daughter anywhere. He prayed that if he couldn't find her here, she was off where Anne was searching.

Finally, he caught eye of her. Banking around a turn, he watched a pretty figure drunkenly swirl and dance her way in a little area of ground not to far from him. Her long, black hair was soaked against her shoulders, her body lined with loose, dirty-looking clothing, with a brown, sewn shawl over her shoulders, her hands freely touching the ends of it. She was lost in a giggling, happy ballet, as she tapped around in the rain. Her limbs were loose, like she was a blind and bubbly child.

Delmaria ran up to his daughter and gripped her by the shoulders, stopping her. Her eyes were closed, but she knew something was there. Still, she laughed and twisted lightly under his hold, unaware that her father was standing right in front of him. She was still the elegantly beautiful woman her knew her to be, but right now she was far from that. Judging by how she felt in his hands, he saw how much weight she had lost. That and the pungent smell of alcohol and smoke that emanated from her body.

"Marina, Marina!" he tried to wake her up, shaking her.

"Haha, 'ELLO love!" she squealed in a heavy, fake British accent. Even though she had a light British accent like her father, it was apparent being intoxicated magnified that affect. Now Delmaria knew what he was like after a good night in the tavern.

"Damn it... alright poppet, let's help you over there." Delmaria pleased her, walking her over to a pile of crates in between two nearby shacks, and sitting her down. She nearly tipped over as she sat down, but Delmaria steadied her, and studied her over. To most, it would be hilarious, watching a poor young girl spin and twist out of her right mind. But not Delmaria; he expected much more than this from his daughter.

Before she picked up her studies in the voodoo arts on Tortuga, Marina found her home on Port Royal, just not like most. She used her ultimate beauty to exploit Navy and government officials to get close to their ties, and then slowly work her own way in to the process. It wasn't long before her slithering influence had given her a force of Navy soldiers that had become more loyal to her than their own Officers, and to that she really began to work her magic. She propagandized herself as an all-powerful leader, and although most were skeptical because of her gender, they soon saw what she was capable of. Marina was a vicious tyrant, which was quick with having somebody killed for going against her word.

It was through her absolute control of the Navy forces housed in Fort Charles that she was named "Madame Marina," to suggest her undeniable beauty, yet brute force. She shaped up the Navy from a group of poorly-trained grunts to top-of-the-line soldiers, and her reign led to an all-time low in crime, and an all-time high in executions.

Yet her largest concern was the matter of her bloodline. She knew that the public would not respond well if they knew her family was full of pirates, so she made a deal. One evening, while Delmaria's crew was in port, she was able to seduce her own brother, Delpadros (both of whom were unaware they were related at the time,) in to leaving the crew to join her. He quickly became her personal assistant, carrying out an "orders" which had to be done. She even went as far as jailing her own father.

However, she became remorseful of her actions. She longed to see what it was like to be free, so much so, she demanded that she was "kidnapped" by Delmaria's crew, and set free in Tortuga. And this they did, allowing her to fulfill her dreams, of becoming a pirate. But if Delmaria had known she would go through this sort of spiral, he would have never helped her.

As Delmaria turned around, he was thrusted downward by sturdy, painful push, splashing him on to the saturated ground. The droplets of rain pummeled his face, making him unable to look up and see what had pushed him, but his flailing hands were quick enough to swat away an oncoming foot to his head. Yet it wasn't a regular foot; he felt no shoes, leather, or skin. Only bone.

He tried to roll out of the way, but he knew he had to stay close to Marina. He kicked his foot blindly, hoping to clear anything near him, and drove it right up between two bony legs. The jolt from the kick sent the bag of bones toppling on to Delmaria who smacked it away with a quick hand. He struggled to get to his feet, the pushing force of the rain and the slippery ground beneath him making it hard to stabilize. When he finally managed to stand up, he rubbed his hands over his eyes, enough to give him a watery sense of what was going on. He turned back to look where he thought the skeleton was, but was met with a stern punch to the face. The bluntness of being punch by all bone made it more painful than a usual blow, but it wasn't enough to demount the battled pirate. He popped back up with a powerful haymaker to the face of the rotting zombie, knocking it downward in a crunch. As the pirate tumbled down the small, wet hill, Delmaria ran to Marina, and gripped her by the hand, tugging her in the opposite direction of where the skeleton was going, back up in to the town.

3

The windows of the cramped, spotless room flashed as the lightning rocked the environment outside. The darkness of the night hours had brought with it only worse weather conditions, which would hopefully blow over in the morning. Delmaria shifted in his seat, now dressed in a dry, simple, loose linen outfit, nothing more than just a shirt and pants. He looked around the room, illuminated by a few candles scattered around the room, cabinets and shelves that ran against the pale tan walls lined with bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Anne stood by the double doors of the house, locked shut to keep away the moisture from outside. They were blank with emotion, but with different thoughts - Anne, worried of her office in Tortuga, and the future advancements while Leanne was still in port. Delmaria, however, was more concerned on a far more important matter - his daughter.

After a tense ten minutes of waiting, Doctor Grogan walked out from the backroom of his office, wiping his brow a little, but not in too much discontent. "She's quite in a state of delirium, and quite sickly, I must say, but none the less, she'll get better soon enough. I'm sure she'll be over her symptoms in the morning."

Delmaria slinked back in his chair, sighing in relief. He was still worried, though - his daughter was just on the verge of being captured, had he not gotten to her before. Delmaria turned his head to the Doctor. "Doctor, what exactly was she.. on?"

Doctor Grogan let out a breath, and plumped down in a small chair behind a plain wooden table in the center of the room. "It seems... it seems your daughter was not under the impression of simple alcohol, or gypsy scents or smokes, Captain Darkskull. She was... poisoned."

Delmaria stormed to his feet, furious. "WHAT?!" he yelled, almost like it was the doctor's fault.

The doctor put up his hands in surrender, and continued. "It wasn't lethal, my fine sir, no. It was from some venom from a type of snake that slithers around on some of the islands near Tortuga. It was just enough to leave her delirious, and a little upset, but nothing more."

Delmaria rubbed his hand against his forehead, the frustration inside him boiling. "Anything else you want to tell me about?"

"Yes, Captain." the stout man leaned his elbows on to the table. "Normally, when somebody spiritual like your daughter is put under this state, they reach a realm of... what they call, "enlightment." This is where their mind sharpens to them. They have better memory, least to say. Now, this leads to usual rambling, about family members, childhood events, and so forth. But your daughter.. well... her case is different.

"I couldn't make it out completely, but your daughter mentioned something about a "prison" over and over again. Some... I don't know, voodoo encampment. Whatever she's talking about, I'm not sure."

Delmaria thought for a moment. The sounding of a voodoo encampment near Tortuga rang a bell in a mind - he could slowly recollect a group of mystics discussing this place as he passed through the Quarters earlier the day before. "Doctor Grogan," Delmaria snapped to attention, "you wouldn't happen to know what island that snake venom came from, hm?"

Doctor Grogan immediately became flustered. He got up from the table and rushed to the back, Delmaria in quick pursuit. Just as the surgeon was about to return behind the curtain to check on Marina, Darkskull grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. The doctor looked at his feet, then at the pirate, and shook his head furiously. But as he saw Delmaria's hand move for his cutlass, he gasped, and slacked his shoulders. "Alright, alright!" the doctor rushed back to the front room, where Anne stood, waiting.

The doctor walked up to the doors and put his back to it, so the two could face him. With one final sigh, he said. "After.. I was brought to Tortuga; I spent a few months in the Quarters, studying up on their various forms of diverse medicine. One of my studies brought me to this... this small island, just off from Tortuga. There was a small village of mystics living there, like their headquarters, or something.

"However... well, I was much younger when it happened. It was, erg, at least seven years ago. I had news in the Quarters one of the witchdoctors there had gone mad; and by mad, I mean insane, corrupted - possessed, even. The island had been isolated ever since, and nobody knows what the hell is going on over there. All we know about him was that he was obsessed with... torture." the doctor shivered, walking over to a small map of Tortuga, and the waters around it. In the Southeastern corner of the map, he pointed to a small island. "There. It has no name, but I'm sure you can find it easily."

Delmaria turned to Anne almost immediately. "I want you to stay here, guarding Marina, while I'm gone. I can't risk bringing more people than necessary."

"NO!" and shout came from behind him. He turned to a gust of wind, the doors wide open. Standing just before the down pouring rain, was Leanne, shivering as she gripped herself. "I want to go with you, Delm- Captain. Those things have my son, and I'll be damned if I stand by and watch."