Create-a-Character Month!

[Captain Sharktooth]

Does out story have to be about how we became pirates? Or can I make one of me already as a pirate?

[Captain Del]

Originally Posted by Captain Sharktooth

Does out story have to be about how we became pirates? Or can I make one of me already as a pirate?

It can be about anything - it doesn't even have to be about a real pirate.

[Captain Sharktooth]

I was working on my story, and I didn't save it yet. But then Word froze, and I can't get back to my story! I only had another paragraph to go too! This made me mad.... -_-

[SEAKING23]

Well that a i got in can make one about Pirate, who i hope will be Arsonist.


I'll make it tomorrow

[Captain Sharktooth]

This is the story of Captain Sharktooth, told through the eyes of his first mate, Pirate Guy. His story was discovered in a lost town, in a journal……

May 10th, 1876.

Prologue

The meeting had begun, it was the monthly meeting of the pirates…..

“We come together today to remember his life and adventures. Today marks the 150th anniversary of the freeing of Padres Del Fuego from the Navy. Through the journal entries of his first mate, we get a glimpse of his life. So, my fellow pirates, close your eyes and let us take a moment to step back in time and remember the mission of one of the most infamous pirates of all time, our hero: Captain Sharktooth.”

May 8th, 1726.

“Captain, we intercepted a letter from the Navy heading from Padres.” I said
“Well, what does it say Pirate Guy?”

“Sir, it was intended to go to Lord Beckett. It says…. that Padres is still cooperating, and they have a firm grasp on the island, even with Jolly’s minions not far away. The infamous Captain Sharktooth is still nowhere to be found, and we won’t be considering him a major threat anymore.” I paused for a second. “Sheesh, hard to read this fancy writing.”

“Well, that means my attempted freedom raid will go as planned, as long as they still assume we are off on another island. It is in 2 days you know, and we still have some people for our crew to muster up. This plan cannot fail, this is our last hope to save piracy, and if we lose this battle, I will have lost my life for nothing. These blades we have found from the cave off on Raven’s Cove can help us, but the Navy has far greater numbers than we do.”

Noticing the pause, I said something, “So Shark, what is the plan?”
“Come closer, and listen, listen good…..”

May 9th, 1726.

Around afternoon, the Tide Tiger approached Padres from the backside, avoiding any ships that might be lurking around. The Captain was in his room, pondering how his life has been. He remembered everything, from his first encounter with pirates, which sent him on a voyage that no one could have thought. He remembered freeing the pirates from Fort Charles, which escalated his popularity around the Caribbean. Now, whenever he headed into any town, he was always greeted and given a pat on the back. These deeds also made him the most wanted pirate by the Navy. He has killed more navy men than any other before him. He sat down on his bed and took a brief nap.

He awoke later that night. We ported on the backside of Padres. We crept through the town so they wouldn’t be seen by any Navy men. All of us had gathered up a fine crew… about 120 or so loyal pirates eager to free this island. We went around and ended up by Gunner’s Shack. Some slept there, and some found other places to sleep. We all sharpened our blades and went off to bed.

May 10th 1726

As morning approached, most of the crew was already up. The butterflies in our stomachs would not go away. We walked toward Fort Dundee. We crept around the last bend and there stood about 300 Navy Officers, Veterans, and Sergeants. Captain Sharktooth unsheathed his sword and ran out, staring at the fort. He yelled our battle cry and we all charged toward the first few Sergeants guarding the bridge. Shark did a thrust and drove the tip of his sword deep into the Navy man’s chest. As soon as we crossed the bridge, we saw hundreds of Navy men running out of the fort. Captain looked up and saw Captain Wentworth Rothwell staring at him. He walked back into the fort, grinning.

An Officer came up and took a stab at Sharktooth while he was distracted, he dodged but still suffered a minor slice in the stomach. He punched the soldier and knocked him unconscious. He ran up toward the steps and knocked down many more Navy men. He looked over and saw his crew winning the battle. He and his most trusted were racing up the steps. At the top of the fort he noticed many of the best trained men up there. They ran out and the Captain clashed swords with Ian Ramjaw, a highly prestigious Navy soldier. The Captain pulled out his sword and tried to do an upper cut. With his chest exposed, Ian sliced him with his Bayonet. Our good Captain winced for a sec, and with the most ferocious look I had ever seen in his eyes, he did an amazing bladestorm that sent Ramjaw to Davy Jones’ Locker! He turned a corner into the fort, and that was the last time I would see him that lively again.

I turned around just as 2 Sergeants were approaching. I was not used to fighting with my back against the wall, and outnumbered. I was mostly deflecting their attacks when a fellow pirate stabbed one in the back, and I took care of the other. I knew I had to get to the fort fast. Along the way, I killed many others, and I ran up to the fort with about 20 or so pirates. The rest I do not recall well, we swiftly took care of most of the men. I raced around a corner and saw Captain Sharktooth lying there, motionless. He had lots of blood around him. I ran up too him and he said…

“Pirate Guy, get Wentworth.”

I looked around, and there… standing in his officer, was the leader of The Royal Navy. He grinned and unsheathed his sword. I thought to myself that I cannot lose, or Sharktooth’s efforts will have been no good. He jabbed, and Parried. I used thrust, he countered it with a low cut. We fought on and on, but I won! I defeated him, and many pirates raced up and gathered around our Captain.

“Captain” I said. "We won, we overpowered this fort."

He looked torn up. He opened his eyes, and spit the blood out of his mouth. He turned to all of us…

“Mates, I am so proud of this bunch of pirates. We freed Padres Del Fuego from the Navy. I can now die knowing I have saved piracy. I thank you all for giving me the privilege to be your Captain. Fair winds, mates, and as my first mate, Pirate Guy will be your new Captain. The price of freedom is high, but it is well worth the cost. Now live free pirates, savvy?”


The man closed the book and looked up to the gathering of pirates. He smiled. They smiled.

I tried my best, hope you enjoy it

[Mr. Awesome]

BEWARE!!! The shear awesomeness of this story "might" be too much for some and "might" cause insanity: Born at the very bottom of the ocean the great son of Cthulhu Mr. Awesome washed up on outcast as a child. Raised by stumps Mr. A had to fight from day one for survival and grew up with no friends but a dog with keys that had happened to wash up on the island. Mr. A grew to love stumps until one day a group of three pirates landed on outcast and Mr. A woke up to find the buccaneers were attacking his family of stumps! He defended his family until he found out it was the stumps that had attacked the swashbucklers! Tormented by how corrupt and twisted the stumps were he swam into the ocean and he swam for 563 days until he hit Padres Del Fuego. There he tried to start a new life until he was arrested and put in jail by the East India Trading Company for being to awesome. Luckly a fellow awesome pirate was his jail mate and together they escaped! Ready to set sail once more with no idea what lies ahead the amazing Mr. Awesome has pledged to defend the innocent as a Midnite Avenger! He currently longs for the day when he learns to use his full awesomeness (Get unlimited access) and reach his full potential (Master everything) until then he is hyped to death for the new Haunted Mansion movie.

[SEAKING23]

Here it is: It's REALLY graphic.... i suggest ages 12+


Nameless was born.... he doesn't know. All he knows is that he doesn't know anything about himself other than Bowdash took care of him until he was 7 years old. One day, Nameless was out to his usual mischief when the skies turned green... and the rotten stench of the undead filled the air....


It was pain. Pain like he had never felt. He felt as though he was dieing and being dipped in the River Styx. he got up, and saw a helpless woman hold a baby with the ruins of her house behind her, and she herself was behind a man with a cutlass, (does that stereotype offend anyone? i hope not.) slaughtering every undead in sight.

Suddenly he was filled with anger. How dare this man defends his family against the might of jolly roger? how dare this woman hide against him? how DARE her baby cry like that?? While the man was distracted, fighting off an undead pirate his sword was right next to his head when Nameless ran faster then he ever had, and stabbed him in the gut. He fell over, dead. Next, he gazed upon the woman and her child.

There life span was cut to the next 5 seconds. Nameless looked around him, surveying the carnage and tears. When 5 spotted 5 men in the center of the court yard, with their backs to the fountain. One was large, carrying a massive broad sword. He looked like a combo from of Spainish/Arab. He forgot how the others looked like.

Nameless bellowed a war cry that no seven year old should be able to bellow, and charged. The Spainish/Arab man had finished deflecting an undead pirate's blade, causing it to move right over his leg. He stabbed. The undead fell over will an expression of hate and pain on his face. The man looked at the charging undead boy and laughed. Nameless was abut to strike when the man grabbed him by the neck, and chocking him, then he threw him against the wall. of the Faithful Bride. Suddenly he left a throwing dagger sink it self to the hilt in his body. he looked up at Jolly Rogers face in the moon and before he died, he heard one of the most muscular men say, Nice one, Captain Swordshot.....


Then, nothing.

He woke up. Witch is as surprising as where he was. He was in an open coffin the the middle of a field, spanning miles and miles of blue grass. yes, BLUE. He did the normal thing, and stepped out of the coffin, witch sent him back to were he was when he turned undead. Incredibility shaken by what he did, he headed back to the bowdash mansion. What he found was horrible. his parents and baby brother were all dead with dagger stabs on them. Then it hit him.

He did it. Nameless wept and wept and wept will he could cry to no more. a EITC soldier passed by him. the EITC were taking advantage of the pirates weakness by taking over the town. Anyways, he grabbed the little weeping and hauled off to jail, to be hung. But before the soldier threw him in, the homeless orphan "liberated" him of a small black device with a fuse...

The fiery explosion ripped through the wall, sending a sleeping navy guard against the wall. The last thing he saw was a little boy running out side the jail.

Little did the boy know that from now on he would be called Arsonist by himself, the Navy and pother pirates.

Arsonist was now free to do whatever he pleased.

[Crestshot]

Do you remember?

Well I do.

I remember how the sky turned dark, and how the light seemed to fade from everyone’s eyes. Everything turned black and white; there was no more color left to be had in the world. Sound disappeared; I was no longer allowed to enjoy the lyrics of the crunch of autumn leaves, or the sweet melody of wind rushing through the trees. The touch of a hand on my arm was no longer warm, but ice cold. Taste no longer had any place in my life, as everything that touched my tongue had fewer flavors than sand, and to smell was merely a memory. There was no sense left, for that was the day my life became chaos confined into one tiny cell called my mind.

There was such a sudden change, in that small, infinitesimal moment. The pulse rushed out of his body that lay in my arms, and somehow rushed into me. I had two pulses now. One was my own bodily, natural one. The other was the pulse of the gifted curse.

~~~~~

He was the youngest of his family. His father had died a few years before on the ocean, never to be heard from, with a body that was never to be properly buried. He didn’t know the man, however, so it was of little concern to him. It was only when his mother cried that he really paid attention. To see her tears was something a child should not have to see. By the time of his death however, his death in my arms, the tears had slowed. They would quickly reach their peak again with that news, though.

He was only seven years old.

She had held the young Jacob in her arms after he had been shot down in a massacre. To her, he had been the little annoyance that had lived with her and been the bane of her existence, that got caught up in her skirts as he ran past with a piece of fruit in his small hand. He probably had never figured it out.

Her own family had gone on the same trip as his, landing in the new Caribbean island of Port Royal. She had been a young girl, only three years of age. In her mind was the faint first memory of waves rocking the boat harshly from side to side, making her small body slam against the wall of the ship. She had crawled over to her mother in the darkness of the storm, but the woman was breathing heavily, and a sweat had broken out over her brow. The little girl had cried out of fear and tried to cuddle into her mom’s arms, and the loose grip was comforting in her terror.

By the time they reached Port Royal, her mother was dead.

Her father worked hard as a servant to a man who owned sugar crops on the island. There was little payoff, and little time for him to pay attention to his lonely daughter, but he did what he could. After a long day in the fields, he would come to his home, a little shack on the edges of the field, sunburnt and sore, yet try to listen to her tales of the boy that had pulled her pigtails or how she had run faster than the wind when playing with Mama Hartley.

Eventually, when she was twelve years old, Emma Hartley and her father married, not out of love, but convenience. Emma had a child of her own, young Jacob, a three year old boy that, similar to her and her mother, had never truly known his father. It was much simpler for both families to consolidate their lives. This was how life was for the next few years.

Then one day, the skies darkened suddenly to a sickening, menacing green. The entire town seemed to stare up at the skies and watch the change with fear in their eyes. What was this happening to their town? Thunder and lightning came unnaturally from the Caribbean Sea, and that seemed to be the cue for everyone to begin scattering. Townspeople abandoned whatever jobs they were doing and fled into homes and stores, slamming doors and windows, fearing the possibilities that waited for them outside. Men grabbed their guns, and women gathered their children close to them.

“Darinda!” The girl, turned towards the small, high voice of a boy not yet near manhood. The dark head of Jason bolted towards her as fast as his small legs could carry him, his hands covered in mud and his knees scraped from where he had likely fallen in his escapades through the day. It was clear why he was running faster than in any race between children. Behind him, skeletons, demons from the depths of the earth, followed.

Her eyes widened in terror at the sight of the ghastly shapes. As she stared at them, one raised a rotted hand, a pistol positioned at the end of the arm. Before she could even think of doing something, the creaking finger had pulled the trigger, the smoke and bullet had burst from the barrel, and Jason fell to the ground at her feet. She stood there in stunned silence, looking down at what had been the bane of her existence. Now it was a shell.

The exposed teeth of the skeleton somehow shaped themselves into a grin as they looked at the body. Grimy and cracked bones of its hand rose again to shoot the gun at her, and she was afraid to feel that piece of lead pierce her skin, but just before the trigger was pulled, a sword came out of nowhere and slashed the skeleton to pieces. The animated bones fell with a crackle to the ground, and men stepped over them and crunched them into dust. Who could have ever thought that pirates would save her?

The danger now over for her, she fell next to the small boy she had helped raise. His pulse was slowing by the second, and his breathing was almost nonexistent. She took his small form into her arms and felt tears running down her face. His eyes weakly turned to her face, and he began opening his mouth, as if to say something. Blood trickled out of the corner. Before words could escape him he took in one last shallow breath, and died.

“Jacob,” she whispered, tears running down her face. She laid her head on his chest, letting the tears fall fast, yet silent. As her head rest there, right over his heart, she felt a change come over her. It was as if something from the small boy’s body was slowly going into her own, some sort of unidentifiable substance. She felt it invading, but found that she could not move her body from him, nor release herself from the grasp of whatever it was she was feeling. It had trapped her, identifying itself as a part of herself.

When she finally lifted herself up, everything was somehow… different. Port Royal had been bleary before, but now it seemed even darker. She shook her head, blinking rapidly as if that would bring color back to her world, but everything stayed the same. All that had been covered in a green tint before was merely a shade of grey. There was no time to worry about that now, though. She told herself it was just an offset of the shock, and picked Jason up to take the news back to her family.

His mother started crying the moment she entered the house and saw the prone body of the boy. The sounds were oddly muted, though, as if the true feeling of them did not reach her ears. She lay him down on the old wooden table in the center of the two room house. Emma slowly walked over to him, standing over him like a weeping angel of death. She stared down at her son, the only biological member of her family left, and slowly reached a hand over to close his eyes. Her wet orbs slowly rose from her son and met those of the girl across from her, then flicked over to the doorway of the other room.

The girl’s gaze travelled with the older woman’s, and in her black and white haze, she walked to the small bedroom. There, laying down with deep, heaving breaths, was her father. In a daze, she travelled to his side, and tired eyes looked down at her. “Darinda…” the man whispered. A weak hand rose from his stomach to touch her face, and she felt something wet smear across her cheek. When she reached up to feel the substance, her hand came away in the shade of grey she knew was once red. She gasped and looked down at her father’s stomach. Tightly covering it was a white cloth that was slowly being soaked through with blood. For the second time that night, tears ran down her face, washing away the streak of blood that her father had left across it. She laid her head on the bed next to him, and closed her eyes to sleep.

~~~~~

I seemed to wake up that night, but it was different. All of my senses had returned to normal. But when I looked over to my father, the only color I could see was red. His eyes were open and bloodshot, but there was no life, no sparkle in them. The bandages on his stomach hadn’t helped at all, and red liquid coated it. I gasped, and lurched backwards away from it. My head hit the bedside table, knocking over a vase. It cut my arm open, and the red returned; the blood. I felt no pain from it, though.

It was then that my eyes truly opened. Everything happened as I had just seen, only with the absence of my senses. Instead of red, it was all black and white, but it was exact. There was no pain but in my own mind.

I knew at that moment what had happened, why I had been trapped the moment Jacob had died. Something in him had transferred to me, but the boy was so young that he had probably never experienced it, or if he had, he hadn’t realized what it had meant. But I knew.

I fled at that moment, sneaking aboard a ship just leaving port. Mama Hartley never heard me leave. I knew that I couldn’t stay here with what I had, though. Some irrational part of my mind told me that this would go away if I went away. There was nothing left for me in Port Royal anyway.

I was found on the ship just a few days into the voyage, but the captain took pity on me. He saw my distraught state and allowed me to stay, giving me some food and a job aboard the ship; a swabbie. It was thankless work, cleaning the decks day in and day out, but it was also thoughtless. I fell asleep exhausted each night, and no odd dreams with dank smells or red blood came to me.

But one day, the work wasn’t quite as hard. I fell asleep lightly in my hammock, with a small smile on my face. Despite not being able to feel anything, it had been a good day. My eyes fluttered closed, and my mind shut down. That was my mistake.

With my mind weak, a vision sped at me, hitting me like a rough club to my stomach. Actually, that is exactly what I felt. My eyes opened, and my vision was blurred, but the yellow of a nearby lamp glowed into my eyes. I knew at once this was a vision before my head snapped back as a punch met my jaw. A glance down at my body told me exactly what I needed to know about this vision.

I had turned into Emma Hartley, and I was slowly being beaten to death.

I couldn’t escape the torment of it. This was the first pain I had felt in ages, and all I wanted was to get away from it. I had dreamed of just feeling something again, but the suddenness of this had taken me off guard. Punch after punch, pain after pain, and there was nothing I could do, because I had no control.

I woke up suddenly, tears coating my face, my breathing harsh. What was the point of having this, I thought. What was the point of living if there was nothing you could do about all of this pain? I flung myself out of my hammock, and ran to the upper deck. There was no thought in my mind other than escape. I charged at the railing and jumped over it, knowing the water would greet me below.

I did not get what I wanted. When I hit the water, I fell unconscious, but I still awoke to a world without color, without music, without feeling. It was an uninhabited island, except for the occasional skeleton, but they left me alone for some reason. Their grey armor would usually be called yellow and red by others, but not me.

There is nothing left for me in this world. I stay on this island, living off of bushes, and living from vision to vision. My yellow hair is dirty and stained, and though I am young, I walk bent over like a crone. My blue eyes no longer sparkle with life. I’m stranded, but I wish there was something I could do with this. Someday… maybe someday.

My name is Darinda Loraine, and I can See.

[The Stealthy Pirate]

Wait, can non PnC members write a character? Cause I thought 23 wasnt a PnC member...

[Crestshot]

He is now. And sure, you can write a character, but you're also 37 minutes late and it won't be used in the quest haha.

[Captain Del]

Thank you to all who made submissions during the contest! I will review all of them, and then post my deecision within the next few days.

Also, as a treat for you all, I decided to let you in on one of the many developing characters that will appear in Chapter IV. I won't give him away that much, but hopefully you start to see where he may lead us.

Enjoy!



Have you ever told a child that they wouldn't see daddy anymore?

I was only a few days old, but how I remember that awful night. I was placed in a dark, wet box, and thrown out in to the cold, redeeming waters, meant to purge my soul from this earth. Perhaps it would have been for the better of humanity - but my soul was not the only one which needed cleansing.

I was born as the dirty little secret of my mother. Father was always out on merchant trips, sailing the seas - I guess she saw that as the perfect opportunity to liven up her quiant little life. My real father just so happened to be passing through town, when he caught eye of her from across the tavern - only a few drinks was all it took.

Dearest Mother knew that if her so-called husband ever found out about me, it'd be her head swaying from the gallows. Not like it took any debating or anything - all it took was a small crate that she stole from the docks, and before you knew it I was floating through the waters like the baby Moses. But this child wasn't meant to bring any salvation.

I was lucky enough to have myself picked up by a rogue Navy ship not to far from my port. Oh God, how my blood was cold when they took me from my little container - but I was alive. I guess the cold weather only managed to kill my soul. The soldiers dumped me off at some nunnery in London, and that's where I spent my childhood.

Not like it was going to last. I'm not one to spend my life reading from books, and even writing in them. No, I ran away as soon as I got the slighest idea of what "freedom" was. But freedom has a price, and that price put me below any others you found in stores. I spent my life scurrying in the allies of London, scrapping up any morsels I could feed on. You couldn't imagine the number of times I had to sleep down in the sewers just so I wouldn't get mugged in my sleep by the other scavengers that roamed about. But it taught me something about life - only you are responsible for watching your back, and it's your own fault if you get stabbed in it.

By the time I was around 18, I finally got the chance to liberate myself - by striking a deal with the Brits themselves. Not like I had a choice - I either had to enroll with them, or face the gallows. And to think it wasn't a hard decision. Nowadays, the latter is welcome.

Except, they didn't want me to do just anything. They assigned me to work as a mercenary for the East India Trading Company, in the Caribbean, no less. If they thought the warm weather would melt my heart, they were wrong - as if any of the mongrels in this business have hearts. Any of them will kill you at any turn.

And that's how they trained me. They taught me that I couldn't let emotion take over what had to be done. They tortured me - they cut my skin, poured hot tar on my limbs until they turned black - they wanted me to learn what pain I was going to cause. They wanted me to feel like it was my duty.

They made me do things - unspeakable things. The ways I've killed people, where, why, how, with what, and mostly who, would make their families want to end their lives evermore. I've watched entire families burn alive in their homes, and I laughed as I held the torch. I let the fires that burn down my enemies be the thing that warms me.

But then, I quit.

I failed to carry out an order on a French trading monger who was monopolizing trade that the British thought they owned. But they forget the kind of man they were dealing with - a wealthy one. He paid me, and I killed the rest of my party. Not like he was getting off easy - I killed him anyway, just for the thrill of it.

I roam where ever I can go, preying on whatever opportunities I may have. I don't consider myself good, nor an evil. I am simply a missionary of the angel of death, awaiting for when I myself may be brought to meet all of those that have crossed me. But until then, I linger.

My name is Captain Amadeus Darkskull, and I'm here to watch the world burn.

[The Stealthy Pirate]

Here is just me throwing it out there, I know its late to enter, but here ya go.
~~~~

Zachary Flint was one of those people that you paid no attention to when he was a young boy. Polite, kind, and was afraid of pirates. So how did he become one? Thou shall find out.
-----------

Axe, as Zach was now called, was a ruthless pirate who had no loyalty to anyone or anything except money. He worked for the EITC and Davy at one point. He was the one man who suggested with the Court to bound Calypso.
Lets start at the beginning, no?
-----

One fateful day, Zach was walking around the beaches of Port Royal, when pirates raided. He screamed and dove into the water, swimming as far as he could. While swimming, he found his parents dead bodies in the ocean, with the words: 'Pirates did it' in his father's hand. Driven by rage, he managed to commendeer a ship with a few rocks he had scavenged on the sea floor. He then sailed to Cutthroat Isle, where the skeletons trained him to be a ruthless killer. He decided to call himself Axe Rock, since it sounded more intimadating than Zach Flint. He saw some pirates who he heard the Navy call 'Noobs'. He shot them without thinking about it and stole their gold.
----

That concludes it mates. Yes, his rage made him that person.