The Chronicles of Delmaria Darkskull

[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!

[Captain Del]

Muchas Gracias Luckie! Hadn't noticed that!

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 17th, 1724
Port Royal
6:30 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had a gun for a hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~

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

[Sven Osymthe]

Haven't read yet, but did you mean "like" rather than "life"?

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

edit: Nice job Del

The only other typo I noticed, "handa".

He looked at them, rubbed them in between his bloodied handa, and smiled.

[Captain Del]

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

[Captain Del]

June 17th, 1724
Port Royal
10:56 PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, yes. Go on."

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

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

"Yes?"

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

[Captain Del]

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fire.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Del,

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

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

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

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

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

~ Leanne

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

[Sven Osymthe]

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

[Captain Del]

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

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

[angel 4ever]

awesome! cant wait!!

[Captain Del]

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no. I couldn’t, De-“

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

[Crestshot]

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

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