A Forsaken Alliance

[Jack Shipsteel]

We've all heard of and been to Raven's Cove. It is the talk of the town, the place to be. But, what do we know of it? We know only bits and pieces of this place, and even less of it's past. It began so innocently, with the EITC searching for something, and ended with a horrible scene. But, what filled the blanks? What truly happened to The Cove? Well, I intend to give an answer.




A Forsaken Alliance


William Smythe hurled over the sides.

He hadn't been in the poor excuse of a rowboat for more than a few minutes before seasickness set in. He never had the problem back on the HMS Barren, but the rowboat shifted back and forth between the waves like the Devil itself rocked it. Good thing I'll only be making this trip once, he thought.

Smythe looked side to side in his rowboat, looking at all the other pale faces that shrunk in the Black uniforms they were required to wear. These men he were familiar with, they had been in his previous unit back in Port Royal, he knew each person's abilities, in both fighting skill and card playing. They had been assigned to that place for nigh upon 8 months, being the EITC's scrapegoat for everything that happened to Fort Charles. Until they were assigned to here, this Cove of some sorts.

William lifted his head a little more to see Lt. McKirkley, his commander, in the rowboat next to him. McKirkley had been fidgeting ever since they got on board these tiny vessels, but he still maintained his composure. McKirkley never let his men know of anything besides orders.

William returned his head forward and saw nothing. They had entered the fog. The fog was seen 5 days ago from the HMS Barren, and it had been as visible as it had been when they started in the boats. It was thicker than the stuff back home in Britain, that was for sure. William reminded his oarmen to keep their eyes on the oars. If they hit anything with them, the oars would break in two.

McKirkley was no longer visible, but his voice was still heard over the roar of the waves. Then he stopped speaking. Smythe was about to call out for him, when they erupted from the smog.

There, in all it's glory, stood Raven's Cove. The Cove was aptly named, for everywhere Smythe looked, there was nothing but the flock of birds. But what really enthralled him was the disfigured shape of it. His eyes darted from mountaion to mountain, each more ghastly then the last, until he saw the tallest of them all, the Mountain that reached higher than he could bend his neck to see. And those mountains.. all the mountains Smythe had seen were lush and green. These were darker than a bottomless pit. They hung over you, mocking you wherever you turned, just frightening you to the point of considering turning back, but Smythe knew that was impossible. He was bound to the place, per orders.

He reluctantly turned his eyes from the sight, and began issuing commands. The dock was 200 feet, give or take, in front of them, and there was a retinue of EITC there to greet them. He wasn't going to make a bad first impression. Slowly but surely, the rowboats approached the docks. Two of the fellows on the docks through a rope to each rowboat, and they were pulled in.

Smythe took his shaky legs and put them back on steady ground. He was still turning a bit, and he was curious to study the rest of the island, but the welcoming comittee already had started to give a lecture.

One man stepped forward and unraveled a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat before beginning.

"You EITC men are hereby order to guard this island, Raven's Cove, from danger, to follow your commanding officer's order to the letter, and to help in discovering this islands secrets. During your service here, you are expected to let no civilians know of our plans, not to partake of the Devil's Drink, not to leave here without permission, and to follow Captain Shaw's orders so as to do our King's bidding. If you disobey any of these, you will be shot. If you disrespect your superiors, you will be shot. If you are too cowardly to perform an order, you will be shot. Nothing from within these premises will be talked about to anybody but a commanding officer. If you find yourself scared of this place, take these boats and sail back to your ship from whence you came."

The men under Lt. McKirkley's command let out a few snickers at the last comment, knowing that this was to break the tension.

The others didn't return their grins.



So mates, what do you think?

[KeeperOfTheCode]

It seems a very good start to me. I take it this will be a series?

[Jack Shipsteel]

Aye, a series of quite a few chapters. May not post on a regular basis though, RL, writer's block, etc.

[Jack Shipsteel]

The sun had just fallen behind the Mountains, and it wasn't even past 3:00 P.M. Smythe already knew that this was going to disrupt his internal clock. Back on Port Royal, he always served as the guard from either sun up to sun down, or reversed. Now, it was going to be harder to tell when his shift was over.

McKirkley's Unit had gotten underway and had started moving up the path for almost 15 minutes now. The trek up the path was the shortest up to the town and living quarters for the EITC, but still was a 20 minute trip. The welcoming commitee had told them they were coming up with a way to make the trip shorter. Smythe sure hoped so. If he got posted on dock duty, he would waste a ton of time going back and forth from duty and break.

McKirkley noticed Smythe staring around and behind him and knocked him on the shoulder. McKirkley told him, "Eyes front Corporal. You're supposed to be leading by example."

Smythe shook his head and focused front. He knew he shouldn't be letting his mind wander.



McKirkley had always been afraid of being posted here. McKirkley had been told of the place as a young cadet back in the Homeland, and had heard many atrocious tales been told about the dreaded place. So far, they all were true.

The man who had greeted his squad, a certain Sgt. Craw, was Capt. Shaw's right hand man. He had fought in several wars in the English Navy, fighting against some other country or another, and had been transferred to the EITC nigh upon 15 years ago. He was 20 years McKirkley's senior, and 5 years Shaw's. Yet, he was as spry as most of the newcomers.

After a few more minutes of measuring up his superior, he noticed they were passing through a tunnel, and the ground was growing level. Craw then shouted out, "Welcome to Raven's Town."

McKirkley became confused at this comment, until he and his men escaped from the tunnel.



The town wasn't as nice as Port Royal's.

Smythe had always compared other islands to his former post, and he didn't know why. He had seen plenty of other cities of grandeur, but he always compared each village he crossed to Port Royal, due to his knowledge of the place.

Raven's Town wasn't a city like Port Royal, but had the nessecities. Your standard Seamstress, a tackle shop near the bay, and of course, a Tavern. Smythe was happy to see that the place wasn't too barbaric to forget that.

The buildings were of an odd sort. Some buildings were made out of the usual wood and nails, but Smythe still saw that some places disobeyed this standard, such as the clay huts near the town center. And even more peculiar, buildings built into the mountain itself. Other than that, nothing was remarkable about the quaint town. A small wall fence around the main buildings, a well, and a lack of a fort was the only thing that strayed across his mind.

However, the people weren't your average bunch. Sure, there was the townsfolk that blended into the crowd, but he only spotted a dozen of these. What he mainly saw were men and women of strange looks. They wore clothes Smythe saw usually wore by gypsies and other weird folk back on Port Royal, except magnified to a more dirty degree. The clothes were dressed in soot, and you could barely tell the yellow day colors of the women from the brown styles of the men. They spoke numerous languages, although from what Smythe could tell, his own was the norm. Still, he thought he heard Indian voices amongst the crowd.

Smythe was quickly shuffled along though, not given a moment to study his surroundings. That was a downfall of his, he would overexamine anything and everything. From the island of Raven's Cove to the drabness of his own apparel.

The EITC were walked through the center of town to the much gossip of many of the villagers. Smythe tried to make it look like their talk didn't bother him, but he couldn't help but look down at his feet while the banter continued.

He and the others were then escorted down another path to a small cluster of cabins, which he could tell were their living quarter's from the blatant lack of color and style of them. That and the tell tale EITC mark.

They were shown their quarters and allowed to make do. They started shuffling through their bags they brought with them, when the Sgt. who took his time to escort them announced, "You will be shown to Captain Shaw within the hour."

They all hurried to dress appropiately. They all knew Shaw's story.. and his expectations.

[KeeperOfTheCode]

Tip: never say they spoke a 'vast amount of languages'. 'They spoke numerous languages' might work. Languages are spoken of in number, not amounts.

[Solomon O]

Very good, but keeper is right, not amoun but number instead

[Jack Shipsteel]

Thanks for the advice mates, it's been edited.

[Jack Shipsteel]

Pvt. Millton didn't have to struggle to remember the events that happened to Shaw. He had heard the story long ago, on a cold December evening in the bottom of a Ship of the Line.

Millton had just been recently sent to his first assignment in the Carribean waters, and the posting was a paradise of a place to serve at, Kingshead. It was the home of the Navy and EITC and was known for it's security, then.

Millton had been patrolling the lower decks of the Ship when he happened upon the Admiral of the ship, speaking to a few close officers. The Admiral was in good spirits, from being recently promoted and from the amount of whiskey he had drank. This made his tongue looser than a door left swaying in the breeze.

He looked at Millton and beckoned him over, saying he had just started telling a story to his officers, and that it was one that could not be missed. The admiral took a long draught from his bottle, and told his tale:

"Long ago, when I had been a Major in Fort Charles, I was in charge of training soldiers. I was a fairly nice Instructor, and didn't yell at my troops unless they gave me a good reason too. So, when a young man by the name of Ellison Shaw came to learn how to be a good EITC private, I didn't think any of it. That was until the boy started showing up late in the morning."

The officers and Millton gasped at awe at this. Shaw was known as the toughest and most precise commander there was in the ranks. He was the model soldier, the man you looked up to as a cadet. Him arriving late to roll call? Proposterous.

The Admiral took note at their faces and continued, "Aye, he started showing up later and later in the morning, until one day, he missed Roll Call all together. I let him have it. I told him how much of an excuse he was, how he was an example of what laziness is, and that if he couldn't arrive on time to Roll Call, he shouldn't be in the EITC."

"He bawled, right then and there. Just utterly cried. A bunch of the other cadets and other soliders at Fort Charles started laughing at him, and to a lesser extent, myself.

"I couldn't let that happen, so I gave him something I never had to give anybody before, and didn't give it to anybody since then. I gave him 10 lashings."

We looked in disbelief. THE Captain Shaw just bawling for getting yelled at. Showed what he really was.

"He cried during that too. Since then, he's become tougher. But, if anybody tries to tell ME how tough he is, I just laugh."

And the officers and Milton laughed too.


Millton had heard that story and didn't tell anybody else. But the officers, they told everybody. Soon enough the whole ship knew, and when they landed, all of Port Royal. It soon became common knowledge amongst the rank and file.

Then, the hammer hit. The Admiral who had told the story, he was dishonorably discharged from the service of the crown. Any solider caught saying the story recieved lashings, and on the rare occasion, death. Needless to say, the tale wasn't told unless you were in a very secluded spot.

It showed the men Shaw had pull, and if you said anything against him, you insulted the EITC itself. Shaw turned from a tough commander into a ruthless dictator in the minds of the troops, and he loved every minute of it.

Millton hurried to get dressed.



McKirkley had gotten dressed and proper within 5 minutes, but it took Craw 30 to get back. He sure wasn't very apologetic, however. He just led them to the Captain's quarters.

His men were in their finest suits and had made everthing spick and span. Nothing was out of line. McKirkley smiled to himself. His men never were dressed orderly unless getting judged.

Finally, McKirkley's unit stood in front of the Captain's hut. It wasn't a grand sight, but still was far more better looking than the hovels the others lived in.

They stood out there for 3 minutes, nobody saying anything, nobody even daring to breathe loudly. Then, an opening of a door was heard and the men snapped into an even more straighter stance.

Shaw looked menacing, no doubt. He was as tall as the tallest man in the unit, had cold piercing green eyes, that gave an illusion of staring though your soul, and he carried both a sword and gun as his sides. He didn't blink one bit, despite the wind blowing in his face.

Shaw looked at the whole lot of the men, and then walked to the farthest left of the line of the men. He walked up and down the grunts, looking each and every one of them directly in the eyes, until they broke their gaze. McKirkley became bound determined not to avert his eyes, but that was until the captain glared at him. His eyes.. they were all knowing. They were radiant, but dull. And McKirkley knew he saw a glint of red in his eyes. McKirkley didn't last 5 seconds in his gaze.

The captain finished the line and then walked to stand in front of them. He looked at all of them once again, and began to speak.

"You men are under my command. You will do as I tell you, what I write to you, and what Sgt. Shaw here tells you, for he is my voice when I cannot stand your prescence. You all were chosen to this job because, you will keep a secret, a secret that will not leave this island. If it does leave this island, you will all die. Clear?"

He said it all without wavering. The men gave a murmur of agreement.

Shaw smiled, and began again, "Glad we're on the same page. Now, there is a lot to be said about Raven's Cove, but you'll learn in due time. Some of you will learn quickly, and you will adapt. The others, they won't. And they will not live. Now, starting tomorrow you all will-"

"Cut it Shaw."

McKirkley blinked in disbelief, but knew who the voice belonged to. Pvt. Warth.

This Private never knew when and where was a good time to speak. And at that moment, he made the worst judgement ever.

Shaw looked almost shocked. Almost.

"So.. what is it that makes you speak out this way Private.."

"Warth," he answered, "And the reason I speak to you this way is because you are trying to frigthen us. Your full of it. Your nothing but a low down, dirty, wimp-"

He was interruped, by the dagger that now was buried deep in his shoulder.



Smythe was standing right next to Warth, and he felt the blood of him spray all over his face. He didn't dare move.

Warth had time to scream in terrible agony for a moment before the hilt of a pistol clubbed him in the head, and he was knocked out.

Shaw tsked. "Warth made the most grevious acts of insulting me, and disrespecting me. He deserved all he got. He's lucky he's not dead."

Most of the others were still in shock, but Millton managed to speak. "What do we do with him, sir? Are we to.. leave him there?" His words just managed to escape his shaking body.

Shaw sighed, and told him, "We aren't barbarians. He'll recieve the care he deserves.. he'll be nursed back to health. He won't die. But I'm glad he served as an example," Shaw laughed a humorless laugh, "You are all dismissed."

Craw dragged Warth's body to the hospital on the other side of camp. Smythe and the others walked to their cabins. Shaw wasn't just stories. He was as cruel as Cutler Beckett.

And for the next couple of months, perhaps even years, they were living with him.

[Solomon O]

Whens the next chapter coming?

[Jack Shipsteel]

No clue mate.. but soon!

[Jack Shipsteel]

Sorry if it's been too long mates, but here you guys go.



Smythe woke up to the sunlight filtering through the cabin window.

The rest of the men were already up, barely. They were waking slowly, for they all knew that it was way too early for roll call. The sun here set early, and it rose early. It probably even wasn't 5 in the morning, so that meant they didn't need to be proper for 4 more hours.

Smythe decided against dressing up.

McKirkley had told them last night that if you woke up early, you were allowed to wander about the island, to an extent. No mingling with the townsfolk, and no heading over to the tavern, but so-called "exploring" was acceptable.

As Smythe finished putting on a plain shirt, he looked around to see what everybody was up to. A few men were already starting a round of Tortuga Hold 'em, and he knew that would attract most customers. But Smythe knew better. Each game started out as just a friendly one, but quickly changed into one of money. And he had no luck in cards.

He was just about to abandon having some company and just read some books he packed, when Millton ran up to him and asked, "Hey Smyhe, you want to go out and look around some of these caves? Reckon they have something in them."

Smythe nodded and smiled, and the two went out to look around.



Millton had been looking for an excuse to wander around these mountains since he had set foot on the docks. He always was curious, some said too curious, about his surroundings. But he had never gotten harmed.

However, even Millton knew that the Cove held creatures of some sorts, so he packed his issued Flintlock just in case. And it was that same reason he asked Smythe to come with.

The two tried to stroll leisurely towards the exit from the camp, but it wasn't too long before they started walking at a more speedily pace, for they were both interested at what the island had to hold. They hadn't been out of the camp too long before they stumbled upon a small Mine Shaft, that led upwards to another ledge, as far as Millton could see.

Millton asked Smythe, "No harm in going up, right?"

Smythe hesitated, but couldn't resist. "Don't see why we can't."

And so they went on the creaky, old, mine shaft elevator, and went up.



Smythe didn't know whether what he was doing was against regulations, but McKirkley did say they had full reign. The Elevator ride wasn't what you'd call sound, but it worked, for they didn't plummet to their deaths.

When they finally reached the top, Smythe went out first, and hugged the mountains. Smythe always was interested in his terrain, why, not even he knew. But it felt assuring to know what those walls felt like, what they were made of, and it's texture.

Millton had already gone off to explore the other parts of the small landing they had emerged upon. The only way forward was through a small crevice, but Smythe was still studying the wall.

He reached up to it, and felt it with his fingers. Grains immediately cascaded off the mountain. The mountain was powdery, but it's inners were just hard enough to support the towering figures. He easily just wiped away layers of the wall, and then his head got close enough to smell it.

That wasn't what a mountain aroma was. Smythe distinctly smelt... blood.

But he had no chance to make sure of his claim, for Millton called upon him.



Only a minute passed by before Smythe found the dark-haired, blue eyed private eyeing a bat.

"Look here!" Milton said loudly, "This bat isn't your normal kind!"

Smythe didn't spot anything out of sorts, but after a moment of studying, he saw a few things out of the ordinary. This bat had almost like a voodooish aura to it, a ghastly green, or was it a red? He couldn't tell. But then he also saw the size of it, and he compared it to the ones back in the Royal Caverns. This one was 3 times the size of those, and it had reddish teeth.

Millton, almost laughingly, said, "Bet you I can get it on one shot," while he casually drew his flintlock.

Nerviously, Smythe said, "Careful Millton. We don't know what that is. You might not want to try and kill it."

Millton disregarded the advice, saying, "It's a bat, and no bat is strong enough to kill humans."

He loaded the gun and took careful aim at the beast, and was just about to shoot when-

"Men! What in the blazes are you doing?"

Both Smythe and Millton looked back, but Millton's finger squeezed the trigger.

The whole area exploded.