IC: The Abatan.

OOC: Just so everyone knows, I’m working on a ship from top to bottom. Top being the Main mast and bottom being the rudder, just to lay it out in ones head as ealisly as possible without any confusion amongst roleplayers.

THE MAIN MAST

Reaching as tall as 50 feet, the main mast of The abatan is a marvel in sight, and truly gives someone the feeling of pain in their eyes as they look above them to see the top of it, and the morning sunlight is gleaming into their dusty eyes. The Main Mast connects the Foremast and the Mizzen. The thing about The Main mast is it’s like the whole for the ship. Some houses need support beams, a ship without a main mast is not a ship.

THE FOREMAST

The foremast, however is just as important as the main mast, it connects the Jibboom and has the fighting top on it. The fighting top mimics a crows nest, but is far lower, this is for arial combat, just high enough to shoot a target within range. The wood of the foremast on the abatan, and only the formast is a deep cherry red wood, the rest is an oak. No one knows why this is, Basingstoke has let it plague her for years, but she has not decided what it is, or wether or not it’s holding something.

THE MIZZEN
The mizzen is held together much like a jiboom, in two seprate places, with one vital piece connecting the other. Also much like the Jiboom, it has bones keeping it in place, even the crank to pull out the sails is made from bones, as if Basingstoke was trying to turn her ship into a ship made of the damn things. But when one saw the bones mixed with the cobwebs, they couldn’t help but get a little scared.

THE SAILS
The sails are an off white, while the sail on the main mask, holds a Jolly Roger, to tell everyone what kind of ship this is, and what kind of fate they will soon see. Also, every sail, one inch apart, there are shrunken heads hanging from her sails, these are of her enemies, and it wards people away quite nicely, people have trouble stealing ships when their dead friends are preserved forever on it.  

THE SHROUDS
Remember those ropes on a ship that they always show pirates climbing? Well, these are it. The shrouds are the glue that holds the ship together, aside from the main mast, they help everyone get where they want to go, and they also help things get done much faster, the ropes on The Abatan are significantly thick, so cutting through one to sabotage Basingstoke would be completely obvious, you would have to saw through it with a sword for about twenty minutes, and though people have tried and failed, she is sure something like that will probably happen again.

THE CHAINS

The Chains keep the shrouds on the boat and working properly. They also help out the main mast and the gunports.

THE GUNPORTS
On a standard ship, there are about 10 gunports on each side, one The Abatan, there are 5. But with this sacrifice of gunports comes 3 barrel revolving cannons, The Abatan has been known to take out whole seaport cities just by the power of cannons, and the people would fall submissive to Basingstoke’s will. The Gunports are never exposed, they have doors to hide, so when one sees The Abatan from far away, they think it’s just another ship, the ability to camouflage so well.

THE FIGHTING TOP
The Fighting top is by no means a crows nest, crows nests are used for two things, navigation and keeping an eye out for enemies, it’s rare that the person in the crows nest fights, unless someone actually manages to climb their way up to them. The Fighting Top is low to the ground, only about 20 feet above the ground, which means that it can stay out of reach for awhile, but a pistol of that time still has the same effect as it did before.

THE JIBBOOM

Not only is this fun to say, but it’s a vital part of the ship. While the foremast aids in connecting sails to The Jibboom, it also helps the sails break the wind. Not only that, but if a last resort were to ever come into play, it would help that her Jiboom was cut to a sharp point, easily breaking the other ships main mast, and causing the enemy ship limited movement, and causing it to sink much easier.

BOWSPRIT
There’s not much to the bowsprit, it’s just what holds the Jibboom together. The one on The Abatan is intriguing only because it is made from the bones of many innocents which had passed. It’s a decoration meant to show others what her ship is. In the stories that one man will tell to the other, they will include ‘the bowsprit of bones’ in their story, the amount of bones it took Basingstoke to collect is around 500 femurs, which is the bone she favored for wrapping around things, as femurs and skulls traced the Jibboom from the bowsprit, (which is located halfway between the Jiboom.)

FO’C’SLE

This is where all of the orders are shouted, permanently. With the wood on the deck being more destroyed here than anywhere, it’s honestly easy to tell why so many orders include ‘Swabbing the deck’. This is where those on the ship will climb to sit on the bowsprit or the fighting top. This part of a ship is used more than any other part of the ship, because when the captain barks orders and the crew doesn’t listen, they are plagued by fear, especially of Basingstoke, she finds no value in a human life.

THE QUARTERDECK
Where the wheel is located to steer the boat, One of the highest honors a captain can give a crewmember is to take the wheel. Also, the quarterdeck is usually where the crew will meet in the morning, in times of war, in times of a storm, and whenever else they need to hear the captain loud and clear.

THE FIGUREHEAD
The figurehead is usually a woman at the front of the ships used to signify good luck. The front of The Abatan is plagued by the image of the skulls los muerto (Skulls of the dead) from Mexico. It became more and more clear as to where this ship came from as one gave a quick analysis of it. The figurehead was supposed to signify luck and how the ship is going to pan out, but on The Abatan, it seemed that only bad fortune was to come their way with a figurehead like that.

THE FOREPEAK/ THE BEAK
This is called both the forepeak and the beak, because it’s located behind the figurehead and looks a little like a beak. This is a place for men to usually come out from the ships quarters and feel the sea breeze through their beards, hair, dirty nails and sweat-covered faces. Most men take full advantage of this place at night, where there is dancing and merriment, sometimes even Basingstoke will join, but she is rather reclusive and resigns to her quarters when she can.

THE CAPTAINS CABIN
Basingstoke as a rather classy sense of style, if one were to walk into the captains cabin without knowing her, they would think she was someone completely different. With all the chairs a deep cherry red, and leather, all of the lights lit by candle, a very elegant chandelier hanging from above the table, and a carpet that seemed to tell the story of The Abatan located underneath the entire cabin. She had a table in the middle, with maps everywhere and empty bottles of rum. A few candles melted down that were once in the shapes of skulls, and a compass. She was great at navigation, one could already tell. And it was clear she ate well but did not pick up, their were steel plates everywhere about the quarters, as if she only ate at odd hours, with no one else, to keep to her work.

THE HULL
Where the crew sleeps, and where the rum is stored, along with the food that everyone is entitled to. Unlike most captains, Basingstoke will try her hardest to take care of the crew that she has, so long as they stick to her rules and follow her orders, they will remain alive, or at least alive with a beating heart. Basingstoke also decorated The Hull, The first mate through the Third mate all get to sleep on padded hammocks. The rest of the crew has straw beds and feather pillows, but Basingstoke did invest a lot into silk blankets, which were tattered and torn to shit, but they helped a lot more than any cotton based blanket. The outside of The Hull is painted black, so no light bothers the crew when trying to sleep. Even during the daylight hours.

THE KEEL
The Keel is located below the hull, and it helps the ship break through the water, the keel for The Abatan is especially nice because it is wider, which helps it break through ice and also forms much more speed than a normal ship. The Abatan has been said to be one of the fastest ships on the ocean, considering it can sneak up on a village, plunder it, and be gone before the allies have time to get on the trail of The Abatan.

THE RUDDER
There’s not much to say about the rudder, it steers the boat, pretty self explanatory, :]

Basingstoke could only hear the clicking of her shoes as she made it down the brick street, which seemed to be all she ever knew now, brick streets this, and brick streets that, all of them were never as good as the sea. She needed to feel the salt in her face and the breeze in her hair once more. She couldn’t stand to have land legs all the time, she couldn’t stand for her voice to be what it was for one more day, not raspy from lack of barking orders at her crew. She faded in and out of memory as she made her way down the dark alley, the candle burning streetlights screamed her name in excitement,
‘Basingstoke, ya old bumblebee, you’re finally makin it back on your ol’ lovie dovie’ [/b]
And as she thought this, it was as if all of the darkness from her heart, for one fleeting moment escaped, all of the weight on her shoulders was lifted, and the fatigue which plagued the features on her face had vanished, for one second, one fleeting moment, she was glowing, smiling with pleasure.

Her captains coat whispered around her ankles finding something else to do for moments at a time, the winds command only making her coat seem even larger than it was. The colors of her uniform showed through in the moonlight, she had changed into a black coat, and a beated leather hat, it was black and only had one side pinned, not a normal captains hat, but a hat nonetheless. It had feathers drifting from it, talking to the moonlight and the streetlights that lit them, showing the feathers of many-a-exotic bird, showing those around her that just by noticing her hat, she was indeed quite the traveler. The captains coat was long enough to just let her fingertips hang through, and even then, one could tell that the fingertips were covered with gloves. She did not want to catch anything by touching the wrong thing, Basingstoke, contrary to what some may believe was a relatively cleanly person.

Her clothing change happened within a matter of minutes. She threw her old clothes about, digging in the bag for new ones, as if this white bag she carried ‘round her shoulder already held half of her things. She unbuttoned her white shirt, and put a new one on, walking down the street topless for about two minutes, as she fidgeted with the buttons of a new shirt, it was not anything out of the ordinary for her, but for others, it seemed to be the end of the world. They had no idea how she was doing this in front of anyone, even though no one was out. People could be funny sometimes, especially when they see skin, and that, Basingstoke never understood. It was just an odd way that people were brought up, to not accept someone when they are in the nude, because they are in the nude? She was now fully clothed, the small amount of clothing she did keep was back in the bag, the only woman she knew that could change pants while walking was herself. Most women won’t even change pants, considering they never wore them. She had a new bandana which she wore underneath her hair, letting the purple strands cascade past her still soot-stricken face. Her eyes were like phosperescent desert bubbles in a Sahara of darkness. She couldn’t contain her excitement, even the new, comfortable, skin tight leather pants she wore were enough to contain her excitement, because yes, even a woman as tough as Basingstoke got excited over clothing sometimes.

The walk seemed all the more longer as the silhouette of her ship only became bigger with every 100 steps or so. She could see all of the familiar pieces, each one of them bound to her heart forever by a memory. She couldn’t believe she had to get a new crew, after she did nothing to them, it was like the whole story of ‘the golden calf’ worshipping that instead of the right thing, and the people were punished, the only thing that Basingstoke enjoyed about comparing her stories to the bible was that Basingstoke always played the hand of God, coming down and
“Smite your ass.”
She said aloud, but she did not mean to. Her voice carried throughout the land, as if some of her old crew members were here, they may have been rattled on the inside by Basingstoke, her commands, her orders, were very intimidating, and sometimes, Basingstoke even mastered the art of scaring herself, she did not think it was nice to scare others without first scaring yourself. Her relationship with her spirit never has been, and never will be, a good one.

The Shrouds and the Candlelit rooms in The Hull became more and more apparent as she stepped closer and closer to the ship. She knew Raven was in tow, even if the bribe wasn’t there, Basingstoke figured Raven a woman of good heart and good mind, she was like Basingstoke, only, if Basingstoke had a heart. Basingstoke remembered seeing Raven run off like a happy child for her pillage and plunder, and when returning to see Raven in once piece, she felt a sense of pride, as if Basingstoke was helping to ‘Raise’ this pirate. But she could not go soft for her, if a crew sees that a captain has a weakness, whether it be to a lover or to a friend, the crew will attack it at full force when the captain messes up, and captains are humans as well, they mess up quite a bit. Especially when they definitely should have been paying attention. But, Basingstoke did not let this bother her, she saw the ropes to her ship, she could almost touch it, about 100 feet away now. She could taste the sea breeze, she could feel it on the tips of her fingers, her lips were drying from the salt in the air, and all of this mixed together felt like her first love, her only love, the sea.

With her hands in her pockets she stood at her ship, which was now 20 feet from her, looked up at it, the moonlight doing nothing but complimenting it. The cracks in the hull still there from a terrible hurricane which they were caught in, and she steered them out of. Great memories on that ship, there, she wanted to race towards it, and hug it, cry that it was there, and for the first time, in a long time, smile about it being somewhere near her. She decided to keep where she was until Raven and the Ice Devil man arrived. She would need all the help she can get, there were about 20 people on the ship right now, but she was taking her vessel back, whether or not this mean war, she did not care, and she was sure Raven would be down for the killing, but what about Ice Devil, was his heart too pure to display any sort of plunder? Or would he prove himself to them in his own way? She did not know, all she knew was that she couldn’t risk her life with a weak link. She must lay down the rules for that man, and she should have laid them down before, but it’s much easier to keep the rules to yourself, and let others pick them up on the journey, it was clear that that was something she wasn’t going to be able to do with this one. As she ran her fingers through her dirty, knotted hair, she brought her pipe to her lips, and dragged in a puff with an excited exhale she started to sing
“ Yo, ho, Yo, ho, a pirates life for me.”

[Solleus Allysk]

[align=center]"Yo, ho, yo, ho, a pirate's life for me."[/align]

At the sounding of that, every filthy inch of forsaken corpse snapped and shifted enough to stir dust from the loosely worn and poorly kept clothing.  Those words were heard and resounded again and again, timeless in their distinguishable beauty - at least, in the eyes of Brettz.  A head shot up, jutting away from the rest of his previously still body and frantically peering in the general direction the phrase came from.  With a quirky eyebrow raised and questioning, he sat upright and placed palms against the ground.  After shifting feet underneath him, standing and acquiring a quarter of his sense and balance, he marched a direct though not entirely straight line to the figure that’d said, “A pirate’s life for me.”  He’d hoisted himself up and away from the wooden cross-brace unexplainably placed in such a random location, against which he was resting and had done so for nearly an entire day and night.  As he approached this… woman of a captain, he patted down his clothes and waved his hands in bewildered movements to fan the dust away from his face.

“Yo, ho, yo, ho… and a bottle of rum,” only the slight hint of a tuned and rhythmic voice carried in his words.  Brettz looked onto the stranger and spoke, “I say by tha’ lustful look on your face, you be wanting that ship dere.  A bit much to be hand’lin if you be fightin’ alone, isn' it?”  A coy smirk plotted its course across his lips, and the mark of a drunken fool resided in the sound of his voice.  Though, it’s easy to assume that any character in such parts could be tricky or sly, or even undeniably skilled despite their… afflictions and habits.  It was obvious that he’d not bathed and slept like a sloth that bathed with the mutts in all of their filth and disgusting behaviors.  He reeked of rum and booze, and the smell of women and their cheap perfumes, though old, was still there and deftly embedded in unknown regions – god save us should those regions ever be discovered by any other, especially if they were of the sober type.  And of course, Brettz carried nothing more than a gun with two reserve shots; but no sword to defend himself with afterwards.  If anything, there was too much room for improvement and a few moments of dignity so he’d have a clue as to what the meaning of that word was; but he loved waving at those moments as they passed by far too much to relish in them or have any real appreciation for them.

Plundering through the torn and scattered bits of his lower coat and white shirt underneath until crossing a brown cloth half-way tucked into the waist of the wash pants he wore, Brettz rubbed and cleaned his palm and fingers against it – as if that were enough to be considered clean.  And upon stopping merely a couple of feet from the stranger, he outstretched his hand to make acquaintance.  â€œI might could be offering me services if such should be nee’ed, if you catchin me drift, uh?”

[Raven Black.]

[align=center]”Oh it's one more pull and that will do for we're the bullies to kick her through…[/align]

[align=justify:33e618747c]The haunted tune filtering through the blackness of alley s Raven’s footsteps echoed, rebounding off the building walls and being sent straight back to hell along with the fire of her soul. Length of white drifting in the cool night’s breeze, waist pinned tightly with the strap of leather where the left side of her dress rested to allow easier maneuvering to climb through windows or crack someone a nice one right in the teeth when getting too mouthy. The hand Basingstoke had placed the amulet in still held it tightly, eyes glancing down upon it from time to time pondering the words which had been spoken. Whether or not the ruby was in it or not, it still held the irreplaceable value as if it was priceless. It had been the first thing ever given to her, and no man, woman, child or beast was going to take it from her. It was hers. Like a child who had received its first Christmas, the excitement and joy to receive something that could be considered as ‘theirs’, the exhilaration and possessiveness striking hard into her heart. For the first time, Raven felt like she belonged to something great, something that she would be remembered for, not petty crime but something on a far larger scale… to be a pirate. The word struck fear into the heart and soul of any sailor, any thug trying to carve himself a name would even stop in his brutality, think twice before the cut-throats were upon him like a murder of ravens.[/align:33e618747c]

[align=center]” Go down you blood red roses, go down. Oh, you pinks and posies, go down you blood red roses, go down.”[/align]

[align=justify:33e618747c]Her mind had forgotten the other words to the ole shanty; but she expertly whistled the rest while boot continued to scuff along the cobblestones. Wispy shadows scattering to darker corners as her lone figure approached. Amulet placed deep into the laced bodice, kept safe between cleavage and skill of knife, they would lose their fingers if their intentions weren’t so pretty. Along her journey of inner thought, Raven reflected on the dedication and hard work that she was soon to face. She was definitely up to the challenge, and she had never been afraid of getting into trouble or getting her hands dirty. Certainly she wasn’t afraid of doing what it took to get the job done and she was pretty satisfied that she had proven her measure; if even slightly to her captain. Being first-mate was another privilege given, already Raven felt a sense of kinship to Basingstoke and a love for her ship, The Abatan. The Black Gem of the Ocean, the scourge of any other who dared enter her waters.

No doubt Basingstoke had a crew of blood-thirsty adept thugs keen for the gold, keen for the glory that came with the nightmare of being under siege by sword, cannon and musket. Would she able to maintain the reputation, live up to their standards being just a girl with a murderous intent to rise above the filth, make something of herself. No longer be labeled trash of the street, treated by men like a common whore for a mere coin just to get warmth into her bones. The land would not be missed, her years as a landlover had come to its final chapter, now she would become a bride of the fierce ocean- a daughter of Neptune. Sailing the seven seas with the salty spray and wind in her long black tresses, to hear the whip of sails, the forceful rush of water beneath the grand majestic bow. In her mind she already pictured out The Abatan would look, using images conjured by fearful stories of pirates that she had heard as a child among her travels. Smiling a cold heartless grin, the pearls of her teeth showing through crimson triumph for pitiless was her spirit and coldhearted was her nature.

A turn along another alley brought her to the docks, fog-laden wafts of ghostlike wafts of ethereal shroud billowing. Torch lights encased in etched glass swinging to and fro from where they hung. Seaweed and salt staining the air, thick, nearly congealed that one could cut through it with a knife. Damp, fishy… Raven screwing her nose up at the piled unkempt nets and a couple of fishermen with lines bobbing up and down from the waves below; turning their heads to give her one glance before quickly dropping and turning their backs. As if she was never there, and they never saw a damn thing. ”Aye, that is a good thin' sons of a biscuit eater, see not, then me have no need t' slice yer throat. Fer I am a ghost from your worst nightmare. So pray, pray like you have ne'er before for I sail with the de'il and yer be ‘ere with zee angels” Raven thought to herself while passing them. It was here that her eyes first set upon The Abatan, her first love. The sheer beauty of it, crew busily carrying items abroad of food and rum- ah she liked this ship already for it carried yet another poison of hers… amber liquid of fire. Finally halting at the gangplank only to admire the shape and fullness of this bountiful oceanic mistress… yes she would be mighty happy here.

Walking along the gangplank, dark eyes searching for the one she knew as Captain Basingstoke, ignoring the other protests and questions of the crew, marching straight up to Basingstoke more than ready to do her fair share of the work. ” I am 'ere Captain ready ter do yaaahr biding. It is my 'onor ter be yaaahr first blud an' sail da oceans upon dis ‘ere beautiful ship. What would yew 'ave me do first?” Accent thick and raw with streetlife, just by the manner of how she stood, leg slightly out to the side, left hand on waist as if she was ready to rumble with the best. It was obvious that she had lived a hard life, and would give her very life to protect her beloved Captain and The Abatan. Until then she had totally disregarded the male offering his hand to Basingstoke, his services and whatever else was his expertise. Initially Raven held no opinion, however her shrewd demeanor detailed that she was not overly fond of males, and no issue with showing it; up front and very personal. A busty wench with an attitude to match “Let us sail away from here Captain. Let th' wind fill our sails, hoist th' Jolly Roger an' get these men heavin' scurvy dogs t' th' sea. I b'lieve thar be booty wi' our names on 't an' them who oppose us, t' sink.”[/align:33e618747c]

The cool night air was inviting as the wind danced through her hair, it was blowing dirt away from it and rustling the tendrils as if they were branches from a willow tree, shaking calmly underneath her hat. She saw the silhouettes of those who were walking to accompany her, one looked familiar, one did not. Her eyesight never failed her, and one thing Basingstoke prided herself on was her sight would put the ability of most hawks to shame. She was indeed confused for a moment, unsure of whether or not to shoot this man down or listen to what he said, or what he should say. Basingstoke was not the friendliest of all creatures, but she indeed did try to have a minimal amount of people skills. Basingstoke took her hand and curled her digits around the hilt of her pistol. She glared at the gentlemen walking towards her, his footsteps echoed by Ravens, his smell becoming more and more potent with each step. A true pirate, offensive in even smell. She could hear the rum swishing around in the glass container. She could feel his state of mind as he opened his mouth, and caught betwixt those yellow teeth was a stain of alcohol that hung in the air. The rhythmic song that he sung, to fit the tune her heart sang, to fit the tune she just sang.

His hands caused dust to form whispers and shapes of stories into the air, clouds exploding from his face as he sang, facial hair emptying what it had been holding for what seemed like days. The dirt under his nails matched Basingstoke’s, as it was hard to hide, and possibly, very hard to get rid of. Basingstoke definitely was intrigued by this man, but did not want him to think that it would be easy to get on her ship, just because their hearts were both only numbed by the warmth of alcohol and the familiarities of song. Then his voice dropped, he began to continue his conversation, dribbling on, not realizing whom he was talking to, Basingstoke returned to a memory of childhood, back when her father whom was also a captain told her, it’s bad luck to have a woman on a ship, it’s bad luck to have a woman on a ship. She already knew, she didn’t want to make matters worse, but all he seemed to do was make her hate for men explode into a symphony of unreasonability, and as he finished his comment, as his coy smirk unfuled from those facial-hair tainted lips, her thumb cocked her blunderbuss, and she took his hand, moving it towards her, his head unreasonably close to her breasts, but the barrel of the gun underneath his chin. As if she was being flirtatious with this, but, Basingstoke, as always, liked to have a little too much fun with everything. The same look, that crazed, hungered look curled out from her soul and into her eyes, she would take some convincing.

“Ye tink I be needn’ help coz I be a lassie do ye?”

His lack of weapons was not impressive, but if he was good at hand to hand combat, he would surely impress Basingstoke, considering she didn’t know anything about it. Though her skills in throwing blades and shooting were amazing, she could not throw a punch to save her life. Though her weakness was not well known, it could now be exposed, if he played his cards right, so she would let him go, that is. While this was going on, Basingstoke saw Raven approaching, she could hear her in the midst of her racing thoughts. Basingstoke knew that Raven would find this position she held a man in would fit itself to be most intriguing. Basingstoke wanted to see how raven would react to this, would she hold it in the same regards as Basingstoke, or would she know this man? Basingstoke let her thoughts get the best of her as she kept her grip as firm as possible, studying the man more. Now that Raven was fully by her side, Basingstoke studied her, to make sure nothing terrible happened to her first mate within the hour. After all, wherever Basingstoke goes, death and trouble seems to be in close tow.

Basingstoke chuckled at Raven, her voice helped lighten the situation into a more comical phase. She had heard what Raven said to the fishermen, striking into them the fear of god. Giving them a sense of faith and then letting them feel the joy of her beauty enough to fear it. In that moment, Basingstoke knew that Raven had enough gaul to make it on the sea. She saw Ravens eyes wandering from Basingstoke to her lover, the Abatan. The sea looked beautiful as the moonlight showed the waves crashing up, planting hugs and kisses in the form of mussels on the fine display of a ship. It put the others on the seaport to shame, casting a shadow that no one would soon forget from this seaport. Ah, yes, what a beautiful thing, to come in, and leave so quietly and leave with friends at the same time. Yes, Basingstoke was caught in her thoughts, but the warmth of the man so close to what would be considered her privates kept her close to reality.

“Aye, my ravshin’ raven, I would have you yell to hoist me sails, but it be lookin’ as ‘doe we got some comp’ny.”

Basingstoke nodded down to the man, she wanted to mess with him more, but she knew the dangers of pushing someone before they shoved back. She knew the dangers of helping out someone who ought not be helped as well. She did not want to put her trust in someone who was liable to give her any grief, but she did need the help, She wanted Raven with her, at almost all times on the ship, and she needed someone to watch the hands of the crew, make sure their hands don’t get too sticky while on the voyage. She laughed at the man which she held so suggestively and yet so dangerously, as if she were a snake, it has risen it’s body into a striking position, but no one knew when the snake would strike. She was still enraged by his comments, taking them as though he was trying to say he could do things better than any woman, and she decided to give raven said knowledge before she went and made her decision to spare him from the Gallows.

“He be insultin me as a lassie, he be treadin in places he ought not be treadin, he be sayin he can do our job better coz he a man, and if it aint’ by god it be the gist I get from dis’ man. So, what say ye’ to the weary trav’ler?”

It was clear this all rested on Ravens shoulders now, and she should give the captain a good reason as to why she wanted to keep him, if she did. Basingstoke was like a begging puppy at this point, wanting to set those leather boots on her ship, she did not want to feel land for a good amount of time, until they sailed to where they needed in order to recruit a new crew. Basingstoke knew where this was, but she had to find the proper heading first and then get the navigation going. It was from there that they could sail, pon the open seas, into the salty sea adventures and misadventures. There is always a world out there no one knows, Basingstoke and Raven were plunging headfirst into it. Basingstoke chuckled and eyeballed her man once more, the grip her hand had on his tightening.

“What say become of ‘dis weary trav’ler?”

[Solleus Allysk]

Alas, the lady pirate grabbed him by the hand and drew him near her, placing a gun to his chin.  Only, there was no bargaining.  Apparently, he'd insulted the lass', and she intended to either play games with him or scatter his secondary thought-processor across the sands and nearby boards, as well as the murky waters her very beloved ship was adrift in.  Brettz had no intention of slipping or slacking on his end, though.  A drunk and unknown pirate he may be, but useless and anything but clever wouldn't be found among a list of his qualities... or lack thereof.  As she pulled him down, an eye brow peaked its fullest arch - what a bossom.  He was more than delighted to be there, and his eyes shifted ever so slightly, but quickly regained focus to her facial features - despite a strain it might be to resist peering at the womanly bossom.  He's a pig, he knows it, he doesn't hide it; but he didn't intend to die just yet, either.  As she'd pulled him in and yanked him, filthy hair fell into his face and covered that deceiving smile hidden - not in his lips, but within the glaze of his eyes.  His left, free hand shifted up and against his ribs where his loaded barrel was hidden and strapped amid clothing.

A click emitted as he pulled back the hammer calmly and quietly.  She'd know then, but in the time she'd pulled him down and applied the tip of her barrels to his chin, he'd grabbed the gun and aimed it, and it was readied to fire even through it's holster.  He was cocky, perhaps too much.  It'd either get him killed, or bring a smirk to her face and gain a slight of her respect.  Brettz had been smirking all along, though.  Except for a jolting and responsive sound to her yanking and controlling him, he'd kept a rather laid back stature.  Even partially bent over and angling his neck and head to look up at her, he had a posture that exclaimed his careless and daft nature.  Perhaps he could be of use after all - a man senseless enough to die in his drunken stupor, because he refuses to bow his head to another, could indeed come in handy in any battle.

"I offer me services.  If you tink it to be 'cause you is a lass', you sadly mistaken n' provin' some ster'otypesies right, uh?  No, no... I just want'n to be helpin' yaz," Brettz tried to make himself pretty clear.  With a shift in his gaze to the other approaching lass', he felt it appropriate to speak to her as well.  "And oi... 'ello luff..."  Not just one woman, but two women were now in his company.  If they decided to play this game they were dealt and keep his company, he'd be a happy man to stare them down as long as his days or leaping eyes allowed.

[Raven Black.]

[align=justify:7f32ee3269]Raven black hair tussling in the sea-salt wind, standing there with a reserve not even the Devil himself can deny; even the night reflecting upon the flowing ocean could compare to the shimmering dark abyss burning in her eyes. Waiting for the final command to get these sails hoisted, allowing them to fill with the breath of wind, billowing out towards the midnight horizon leaving the lights behind, until they eventually vanished and all that was left was the whispers of lapping waves, the moonlight kisses upon the stern and the wind in their rapturous locks. She was rather eager to get moving, leave this life behind and begin with a new life; the life of a ‘freebooter’. It all seemed to come so natural, the salt spray filling her nostrils as a deep inhalation was taken in twist ruby red apertures.

The sea filled her spirit, enriched her soul to an existence of pillage and plunder, murderous instincts of the gypsy being possessed by something more raw, a natural power of all the glory of the ocean… there was something deep inside her that wanted to yell at the crew, show them no mercy and that she could be equally as cruel as Basingstoke- for she had to be, being the First Mate. A compelling force within her as the wind was drawn in and propelled out, blood pumping through her veins and her heart sounded like a wardrum inside her heaving chest. "Avast! All Hands Hoay! Get ye pox-ridde’n asses movin’. Git zee main sail hoister’d, trim into the winds so we be rid of this curse’d shore." A brief pause before yelling louder and more fearful…

 "Are ye pirates or a bunch of wee girls on a Sunday picnic? Heave-ho… an’ any slackers I will rip yer balls off and make ye wear ‘em as earrings… the last one on deck will be dancin’ the Hempen Jig! An any of ye bilge rats standin’ round playin’ with their hair I’ll be cuttin’ of ye ears an wearin’ them round me neck to remind ye of who yer be  messin’ with..." Before she had even know what she was saying, the words launched with a command no man would dare deny, sonorous with a gruff mean allegro behind the harsh accentuation. While the Captain of the ship dealt with the man offering his services it only made sense for Raven to take command at the hand of her Captain to get them hoisted and sailing out of the docks. If all didn’t turn out to well, they could just as easily throw the wretch overboard for the sharks. Admiration had to be given, that she took initiative with a demonic smirk plaguing those ravishing lips, retorting to the comment of what she thought she be done with the man after placing insult against her Captain, because she was a woman?

Did he not know women were the most cunning and treacherous cut-throats of them all, a cruelty no man could match, not even if quick on his tongue- he could just as easily lose that too. Guns pointed or not to chin and through hoiuster, Raven swiftly moving behind the traveler before either would notice she was gone, vanishing into the shadows only to have those dark eyes peer out through the darkness like unholy candles, slipping the blade against the length of his spine while talking to Basingstoke. "Fiesty bastard aint he?" A sly grin playing over beauteous grimey features before addressing more important issues and that was to be getting ‘The Lady’ straddling the sea, her submissive lover. "Capt’n…We are ready to sail. As for this one? If he dun’t pull ‘is weight, we could always blow ‘im  dow’n, or keelhaul ‘im and gamble how long he lasts… leave em to the ocean’s grip so that the Sea-Devil ‘imself can come ‘n play wif ‘is cods. Then, wot be left of that heinous deed, swing ‘im from the mast as a reminded to all ye who cross us that the Abatan rules these dark waters!."

Raven casually shrugged… placing her lips towards the ear of the male only to blow a cold plume against them before the blade was removed, barely felt and once again her dark sleek form appeared in the light; as if she had never left. It was an alarming ghosting skill that Raven had, and what most gypsies had when given the skill of disheartening stealth, a most surreptitiousness gift to possess and that which not many held in divergence to Raven. To some it would seem that she was in two places at once, all in synchronized unison, a voice over there and yet there she was standing in her complete magnificence. The atmosphere about her suggested that she wouldn’t think twice about applying that blade to sever a spine or jugular- that would be the less of the sadistic deeds applied for what she could do with a corpse was near terrifying. A blood-thirsty little fucker was she. Only just having the male address her with stuttered, slurry words that caused a slender ravenesque brow to arch in a crescent while diabolical eyes narrowing as if the devils of the ocean danced in her gaze.

"Wot ye be wantin’ yer treacherous scabby piece of shyte? I’m not yet luff, I be yer worst fuckin’ nightmare ripp’d from hell itself." Sniffing at the air towards him, facial features pulling into a rather sordid disgusted expression "Yer smell like zee crack of Jenny’s tea cup. Scrub yer cacklefruit wif zee Holystone, yer povo lookin’ half wit bastar’d. Yer twisting me guts just lookin’ at yer. An’ dun’t  let me be catchin’ yer flogging yer log, or ye’ll have to sit down like a lil girlie to take a piss! Got that…" Taking a step towards him, each step more like a predator, approaching him as eyes never left his, leaning forward to the side of Basingstoke so that her lips were closer, accentuating her last word,. Grandiose head risen for she was far bigger and better than what he could possibly imagine.

Staring him down with that blade in her hand, twisting it into the moonlight"…mate?" the word spat, Raven didn’t care if in his pocket he had a little bang bang… by the time he would have to pull the trigger (if that were the path he chose); she would already be behind him applying the sting of her blade to the sweetness of his throat. Waiting for the Captain to lead them in the shadows of skull and crossbones. [/align:7f32ee3269]

The wind was calm, but it was eerie, like the calm before the storm, it made her hair restless. Dirty and unkempt it hung from underneath her hat like a mop, certain parts beginning to dread on their own straight from the roots, one could tell seeing as in the hat for men fit quite well on her head, and was destroyed from the years of adventuring one could take. The sea salt and sands did no good for it, as they seemed to be part of her intimidating facial expression, which could have been magnified by the lightning, had it been so convenient as to help her, rather than hurt her. In the small, meaningless ways, her clothes had a quiet conversation with the light breeze, whispering their movements and where they wanted to go, the wind complying. The night sky was like tar in the air on this night, the clouds could be seen, but it was their eerie black shadow, it was the black silhouettes of what could exist in the sky. The dark black clouds, followed by the moon, which illuminated the sky like the eye of many gods, like the beauty of what could have been, hand the humans not tampered with the planet as much as they have now. Even though Basingstoke did not care for human lives she did care for the earth, odd concepts to hold, usually when one cares about the earth, they would care about the humans that inhabit it.

She held the male in this compromising position, and as Raven worked her magic, her display of seduction ‘pon him, she knew that if he wasn’t turned on by now, he was either a unich or a fag. Basingstoke laughed at her thoughts, she never really diagnosed herself as sane, especially her thoughts, they never ran by her as anything intelligent, considering they were from the mind of someone who deemed themselves as insane. Basingstoke pushed the Barrel against the bottom of his chin as he grabbed for his gun. He now had two women against him, two women who knew how to use weapons and who knew how to seduce men into working for their favor. These women were the most dangerous of all, and should not be trusted under any circumstance, because they are indeed so experienced with the lifestyle of the seas, and what one must do to a man to get him to act the way they want to. They are all able to be trained, they are all old dogs, who know the same old tricks. As she pushed the barrel of her blunderbuss against him, she could do nothing more than to listen to the words of her partner, and as Ravens speech went on, Basingstoke knew the answer, releasing the male harshly from her grip and stepping away. She grabbed the tip of her hat, adjusting it to fit slightly off to the side as she pushed the gun back down into her belt. The metal was cold against her skin, but she said no more as she had her fingers on the tip of her hat and walked away from him. She knew Raven would be in tow, she knew how bad Raven wanted to take off.

Basingstoke walked up this plank of wood, with smaller bits and pieces in the plank to stop her from falling. As she walked up, the sense of home was more and more familiar. She couldn’t help but fight the urge to fall to her knees and feel those tears streak her face, the warm bodily liquids contrasting from the crisp air. She did not allow to shake, she had to keep her reserve, as she walked calmly up these stairs. Her foot hit the deck of The Abatan, and it was as if her entrance was planned, the crew stopped their work to admire her, to look at their captain, to admire what would be barking orders at them for the next 3 months, what would be pulling their asses out of trouble for the same amount of time, even longer for most. “What in the ‘ell do ye tink ye be starin’ at? Git your asses back ta work bef’er’ I ‘ave ta kick all ye yeasted yeller’bellied cod pieces off a’ me ship!” Her voice was not only intimidating, but filled with excitement, she smiled, the smile curled about her lips and contorting her whole face into a crazed look of something she had not felt in a long time, happiness. It had been awhile since she has even came in contact with her crew, she wanted to give them hugs, the impulse was there with her other crew members, but she never did. She cared about them, they cared for her, as long as their allegiance hung in the same place, with Captain Basingstoke. As the order was baked, some men, even larger than Basingstoke jumped at the order, rushing to get back to what they were doing before. She turned around, to face Raven, and the man whom was just threatened with his very own life “Raven! I be needin’ me a mens to hoist me sails! Wherever ken I be a’ findin’ one?!” She chuckled after this, her laugh stifling, suffocating those around her who thought there was something wrong with piracy.

She walked around her ship, her crewmembers heads lowering as she walked by, some trying to fake a nervous smile to her, others trying to keep to their work, the boys swabbing the deck in the most compromising position made her laugh, she was having too much fun with this, she was indeed excited about The Abatan. As she felt the wind, she wanted more, she took her gun out of her belt and placed the trigger around her finger, much like moving a knife so it wouldn’t stab someone when they moved, Blunderbuss guns were so large that they could leave bruises where she moved. She learned this the hard way, and as she walked over to the shrouds, climbing the ropes, and they sang her a song of resistance, the song the crew was singing, the song of work, the song of bustling feet, the song of orders being screamed at one another, this was the song of home to Basingstoke, and she would be damned if anyone would take this away from her, as she climbed to the highest part of the shrouds, the wind began to get more and more fierce, more real, as did her vision of the pillage of the seas. She stood at the top of the shrouds, her hand keeping her from falling a good 15 feet onto the deck, she closed her eyes, and lifted her nose into the air, smelling the sea salt in the air, feeling it move through her hair, her every moved made by the wind at this point. To those down on the ground she was just a shadow, but she raised her gun into the air “I CLAIM THESE SEAS! THESE SEAS ARE MINE! THESE SEAS BELONG TO THE ABATAN!” She cocked her pistol, shot a huge release into the air, as if she were a male shooting his load, it came close to making her get more than aroused. The shot soared up into the skies, and the crew screamed in agreement with her, some members having been with The Abatan for years. With her gun raised and her eyes lit by the moonlight, her nostrils filled with sea salt and fresh gunpowder, she had never felt at home more than she did now. She let her gaze fall to Raven, giving the first mate the nod, as if it were an unspoken language between captain and mate, as Basingstoke pointed toward their heading, North, to the Isla De Muerta.

[Viperstrike]

At long last, the storm which had cast its wrath upon Captain Tim Higgins in so many ways besides hammering his mighty ship with it's vengeful winds and vicious waves, had finally given way to a semi stable weather pattern.  With no crew to guide his Laimminger Tim found himself performing the tasks his crew would normally take care of.  He was exhausted, and every inch of his body felt as if a dragon had chewwed on his beaten carcass and spit him back out to die a slow and painful death.  Yet, he knew he couldn't give up just yet.  The Lamminger was his prized possession, and if he had to give it up, he would give it up in one piece.    

He stands at his wheel, guiding the ship slowly toward shore.   In sight, the mighty Abatan, in all it's glory, becomes closser and closser as the Lamminger slowly ambles toward it.  Yet, his approach was not in a plight of viciousness.  Tim knew he could not sail the Lamminger any further.  Not without a crew to sail it.   He leaves his wheel, to light the lanterns in his mast head, which appeard to be the head of a monstrous bird of pray, as the lanterns in the holes of its eye sockets glow bright red.   It was usually his way of signalling that he was in need of help.   He only hoped that whoever was aboard the Abatan, would see his beacon as such.

" Ah, my faithful Lamminger.  What kind of Pirate Captain am I if I can not even keep my own crew's lives safe from harm?   I know many things, but there are still many I need to learn.  I am afraid I must leave your deck  until I see myself fit to sail you once again. "  

He had not bothered to tell anyone that the ship had a mysterious bond with him.  Bound by magic, whenever he wished the Lamminger to return to him, she would sail toward him once again.    The ship remains upon approach to the Abatan.   It also knew that  Tim's injuries were also quite serious and taking their toll on him.  He could barely keep himself on his feet at the wheel.  And just as the Lamminger slowly comes to a halt several feet behind the Abatan, Tim collapses on deck.  Knowing his distress, a bell sounds on the Lamminger, hoping that  Basingstoke would hear her call.

[Raven Black.]

[align=justify:6d1b0986ae]Raven listened to the wishes of Basingstoke, the strong ravishing captain of ‘The Abatan’. How strong and proud she stood, pistol in hand and shooting of like a man in his prime. A chuckle escaped over salt-laced lips as tongue caressed the tender flesh as the wind picked up and the sails billowed. Snapping to attention to the forceful provocation of blistering rough-raked seas; waves lapping the sides of the mighty ship as if Neptune himself were her cohort- to the grunts and muscle of the cut-throat Abatan crew. Ropes tethering, sails fixed firm. Basingstoke at the wheel while Raven barked orders mixed with promised threats of torture and punishment. Pushing past the male whom she had addressed ever so violently, shoving him the direction of his task with narrowed furious eyes. All hands on deck, every sweaty, smelly man hurriedly attending to their jobs as if their very lives depended on it, which they did. Raven Black would not permit any slackers, anyone not pulling their weight would dance the Hempen Jig; his neck would welcome the Hempen Halter, and learn to love it for that would be their claim on these fierce seas.

There was no time to be taking a caulk, sleeping on the job would have been more eventual in the manner some of these bastards were moving. ”Get yeh movin’ or yer’ll be getting’ a taste of the cat! Come about! Get this beauty to the winds for I smell gold in the way.” Long bony fingers pointing at one particular pirate who was slacking off more than any other, a wretch of man dressed in rags of failed glories and a grog blossom on the tip of his lil rosey. Right there and then Raven could tell if a man was a boozer, ”Move handsomely, or I’ll be feeding yer balls to the fish, squid-features!” Dagger twisting in her other hand, instigating the motion of just what she was planning to do with his balls, then throwing the handful over her shoulder while that sadistic smirk rolled over parched apertures. It was then that she saw another, one she did not recognize from earlier, were he a stowaway or one of The Abatan’s crew. Pointing to the odd looking fellow  who appeared to have fallen from the cradle of sail ”Ere yer scallywag!” Eyes diverting there attention to the sky before dropping her head down and examining him again ”Yer fall out of the sky of wot?”

Noting that their Captain was busy yelling orders at another group of goofballs, and tending to those immediately in her vicinity, rushing and racing about the deck. Moving stocks and weapons below the deck and carry duffel’s of their own property to their hammocks swinging nervously below. A damp seaweed smell lingering throughout the cabins that even managed at times to be given a whiff from above the wooden surface. Raven however was quickly becoming used to it, the sea spray filling her lungs bringing that wild side out in her. Being a pirate almost appeared to come naturally, like from another lifetime, a past life. Not that she believed in such idiocy. Hands grabbing at crew passing by only to be thrown to the other side of the deck towards ropes, rigging and other bonds to prevent possible storm damage should they face the monsters of nature while on the big blue yonder. By the look in the sky on the horizon, it was possible something was brewing, a new challenge to be faced.

If men were going to steal away on The Abatan they would be worked to the bone. It was then that Raven heard the tolling of bells, or some sort of distress calling. Gaze flashing up towards Basingstoke spinning the wheel to turn to the direction of an approaching ship. Raven could only hope this was a full on frontal confrontation but she would not be so lucky. Upon closer view it were another pirate ship, judging the way Basingstoke was approaching it, Raven thought perhaps they were colleagues or someone at least known to her. At the moment Raven felt in the dark and rather clueless but she would not question the actions of her Captain since Raven fully trusted her and knew whatever was being done was the wishes and orders of the captain of this ship that no one dare question. Raven’s eyes narrowed as she rushed to the bow of the ship, standing above the statue of a magnificent woman. Had the other ship anchored? She could not see any crew rushing about the deck, she then had to question if it had been abandoned or had the crew some untimely demise or illness. Her heart skipped a few beats.

Hands cupping her mouth as The Abatan’s speed reduced. Hopefully someone would hear her or at least give them a sign of life. ”A HOY THERE!!!”[/align:6d1b0986ae]

[Viperstrike]

Tim had collapsed but he wills himself not to black out completely, as he hears Raven's call in the distance.  He could not answer right away, as he grips the wheel with everything he has left, and rights himself back up onto his feet.  Blood trickles from rope wounds inflicted on his one good hand, indicated by serious rope burns while tring to do his best to secure the sails, during rough seas.  He had gathered enough strength to stumble over to his figurehead, which appears more beastly than the mast heads of his Lamminger, with it's beaked mouth closed for the time being (not opening it due to the fact that a cannon lays hidden within it)  and manages to step out onto the head of the mighty beast head.  

"AHOY!"  

Blood from an open lasceration atop his forehead, stains the left corner of his eye.  He had taken serious blows from his time out at sea, during the cursed storm.  This was making him falter a bit, as he climbs down from the figurehead and back onto his ship deck.  He looks out to the Abatan while holding onto the Lamminger's railing.  The loss of blood takes its toll on the fallen Captain who now rests his head on the railing's surface.  He knew he had to keep contact with Raven.

" My name is Captain Tim Higgins of the Lamminger!   I've - had an unfortunate - encounter with a - storm at sea.  I've - lost all my crew, and nearly my life, trying to save them!  I've - been - severely wounded ..  Can't - sail my ship!  Please, help!"

It was all he could say before collapsing on deck, this time falling unconscious.  A feather from a crumpled wing detatches itself from his impressive line of primary feathers and drifts over to Raven, landing there at her feet.

[Raven Black.]

[align=justify:9d8aa900ea]Hearing the ” AHOY” close to the figurehead, Raven narrowing her eyes while dark hair whipped all about her, lashing harshly against the side of her rosy cheeks. Able to clearly make out the wounded ‘bird man’? Shaking her head briskly at first and wondering if the rum she had drunk the night before had some kind of hallucinogen in it, having never seen any fanciful creatures before other than knowing of myths and legends from her homeland. Firm hands gripping the side wooden rails of The Abatan, leaning forwards slightly to catch the wind of anything else said, or other noises to instigate that the crew may be hiding and this was actually an attempt at a siege. Eyes quickly flashing over to Basingstoke, it seemed like she knew the captain of this ship or at least the ship? Right now she was too busy whipping into some fool who had not tied one of the sails properly and it had ripped slightly from catching on a peg fixated on the mast.

Scowling at the man before looking around to the other crew members gathering along the rails and looking over also to study the ship where the voice traveled from, a wounded bird-like looking man. Hands grabbing at filthy shirts, throwing two of the crew over towards the row boats. ”Lay ‘em down, get yer girlie arms rowin’ and see whats we ‘ave over there, bring back zee wounded so that we can see what be the matter” A cold stare struck the two she was talking to, as they and four others began to quickly lower the row boat them clambering over the side down the rope ladders. Raven leaning over the side barking threatening orders should they return with nothing but looted stocks, having killed the captain and any survivors. ”Yer bring back that Capt’n or by god the seagulls will be pecking at yer eyes, yer mange-ridden sea rats!!!”

Moving back over to the side where the captain had been, only to see a radiant feather drift down at her feet. Slowly she bent down to pick it up and study it at close scrutiny while muttering to herself ”Ave never seen a bird dat is a man? How is zat even possi-ble?” The name Captain Tim Higgins ringing in her mind along with the name of his ship ‘Lamminger’. Raven had no doubt about the story of a storm for she saw it brewing to the North where he had ventured from and where they were about to sail. Black rolling skies smothering the blue, trails of fog rising from the waters. It be true that the devil himself was sailing upon these seas, there was no doubt about it because only a storm that could destroy ships and crews would accompany the devil and his hordes of demons.

Looking over at the stern where the rowboat appeared, moving swiftly towards the Lamminger, four amble men escorting the rowers with the direct order to retrieve the captain of that ship and begin mending whatever damage had been ensured by the storm. To set hard anchor until the captain was fit enough to sail. Quickly they boarded the ship, tending to their tasks without failure for it meant their very lives. Aiding the captain to his feet and into the rowboat, promptly returning him to The Abatan while the others continued with their chores. Basingstoke leaving the rest to Raven and making way towards her personal quarters to charter maps or to study another in her possession that had been mysteriously given to her by a stranger. It only made sense to Raven that the captain of The Abatan would prepare a course and not sail blindly in any direction for the hell of it.

Soon Captain Tim Higgins was brought upon The Abatan and taken to quarters where he could be tended to, Raven briskly following the pirates carrying him ”Yer be leavin’ us be.” Pointing a rude finger towards the door ”An don’t let it be hittin yer on the ass on zee way out!” Waiting until they had left. Hands reaching for an urn and pouring some water out into a bowl while dipping a rag in and wringing it out; patting at the dried blood and then the wound itself, not being overly gentle for he was a pirate and pirates be receiving no moddie-coddle nursey type shit from her. Regardless his wounds would be tended to and a pilcher of run provided to chase away the sea blues. ”So… a storm whipped yer ship and crew, eh?” Raven had to get whatever info she could about the storm since they were intending on sailing straight into it. The Abatan did not obey the seas… the seas obeyed ‘The Abatan’.[/align:9d8aa900ea]

[Viperstrike]

Tim tries to sit up on the bed, to get a more comfortable position.  Because of his injuries he found himself unable to do so.  With a quiet sigh, he looks to Raven.

" Yes, that is exactly what happened.  As if I haven't had enough taken away from me already.  By the way, I thank you and your captain for taking the time to assist me. "

He slowly reaches for a key ring and a set of keyes belonging to several of his most prized treasure chests which still lay deep within the bowels of his ship, that was still following behind the Abatan.

" Well, I certainly can't expect your services for nothing.  On this ring are keyes to my most prized treasures within the bowels of the Lamminger.  As long as you hold these keys you are allowed to enter her gallows and unlock the chests to see if anything strikes your fancy. By the way, if you take everything then so be it.  It's the least I can do and I'm sure I'll be able to gather more in future travels.  After all, I sail not only for treasure, I sail for revenge. "

Tim was used to gruff environments, and was satisfied for whatever help he got, even if it wasn't in a posh chateau in the middle of a lavish country side.    In a most casual manner, he gazes upon Raven.

" That's enough about me...  Oh, I see something behind your ear.    Parden me, I'll get it."

With a sly grin going from cheek to cheek, Tim reaches with his tattered hand, behind Raven's ear, and gently pulls it out to reveal a diamond the size of a chicken's egg.  

"Ahhh, I remember where I stole this from..  It was one of my very first jewels from Sharvani.  Well, since this found it's way to you, I see it fit that you should be named it's new owner. "

He places the gem in her hand, and then lies back again.  He was still in a lot of pain.  Still, he didn't want Raven to think he was without anything between his legs, so not one wince, grunt or yelp of pain comes from his mouth every time the water hits his open wounds.    It had been long since he had company from a lady and welcomed anything he got.    It was clear that his interest was not only in his personal endeavors, but also in getting to know Raven, and the talented captain who sailed the Abatan so masterfully.    He looks around and notices the decor of the ship.    It was now apparent to him that he wasn't just aboard anyone's average run of the mill vessel, he was aboard the  monarch of the open waters.  

" The decor, it matches perfectly to the description of a ship known as the Abatan.  I had only heard of this in legend...  Tell me, is this indeed the Abatan that I've stumbled upon?"

[Raven Black.]

[align=justify:cc61f9eef4]Raven listened to his tragedy, she almost felt sorry in her heart for him- to lose a crew like that, but, in the back of her mind she still held that suspicion for trust came hard for Raven. Especially where males are concerned. He did however seem like a very genuine person, full of kindness at least where pirates may be concerned. Taking seat at his bedside while still tending to the wounds, wringing the water out only to reapply with the cloth to open gashes. ”Yer wounds be deep, near to the bone. But this’ll do zee trick but not as good as zee rum.” Offering a quick wink before continuing to speak. ”So what devil’s be winging in dat storm? Was ‘dere anythin’ strange bout it dat we shud be knowin’ about?” Raven had to ask since The Abatan was sailing head on into it, the safety of Basingstoke’s ship was Raven’s first concern, being the captain’s first mate and all. Then came the crew, Raven did not want to lose the crew of this majestic ship, regardless of how useless they were this day. Perhaps they needed a few clip around the ears.

Captain Tim Higgins then spoke of the treasure the Lamminger carried, of course this interested her greatly but whatever price his care and salvation were, it was up to Basingstoke what she thought was appropriate payment. After all The Abatan was her vessel and Raven nothing more than a pirate tending to her orders and ensuring the skull crew worked fast and efficiently to better their sail. Taking the keys with a gracious smiles as her fingers plucked at the key ring, nodding as he gave her permission to take as she wanted. ”’Dere be no need of payment Tim Higgins. But, any payment need be guessin’ dat be up to our capt’n.” Eyes darting over towards the galley door just as he leaned forwards and plucked a diamond from behind her ear. Black eyes opening wide and the sheer size of it, not to mention the way all the colors of the rainbow appeared to glisten within it creating prisms against the wooden cabin.

She had never seen a diamond of this size, and never heard of some place called Sharvani before, maybe this was the means for another interesting story to be heard some other time when plans were not needed in regards to their sail. ”Now that be a big cacklefruit sir, ne’er seen a diamond of dat size. Ne’er heard of this Sharvani place either. Tis be my first sail pon the oceans, had to hackle me way thru life wif me blade… a thieves life!” Raven was being honest that she was no experienced pirate by any means, that she was a typical cut throat gypsy. Still, whether she was by experience did not matter, it was how she felt by heart… and her heart she was a pirate with all the fire of soul they had. Patting away at his wounds while stuffing the diamond in the bodice corset of her attire, flashing a toothy grin before at the comment if this was the real ‘Abatan’. ”Aye sir, tis be The Abatan’ with all the fire a devil has in his belly. We be sailin straight thru dat storm… not ev’en hell itself will stop ‘The Abatan’.”

Her last statement was said full of pride, proud and bold… confident at their ability to sail even the roughest of seas in the roughest of weather.[/align:cc61f9eef4]

[Viperstrike]

Tim knew exactly what that storm was.  It was a tempest waiting to swallow his ship whole with him on it!  A tempest cast by the witch who cursed him for stealing her precious amulet which hangs around his neck, shimmering a brilliant scarlett and crimson.  It was the one thing that kept him alive and his ship in semi reasonable shape.    He would not lie to Raven, nor to her captain.  

" I will be truthful with you my dear.  That storm is no ordinary tempest.  She waits for me and my ship so that she can have her revenge on me.  Tis a curse I can not break, because I know not how to reverse magical curses.  The best way around the storm is to keep to the shallows, and watch the currents that ripple beneath your vessel.  If anything, you might hit some rough waters but surely you will not be hammered by her vengeful waves."

Tim takes a swig of rum.  It feels good as it glides down his gullet.  With a careful hand he sets his glass down once more.

" Before I set sail, I performed my most masterful heist.  The amulet around my neck is a talisman that belongs to a witch, who lives in Sharvani, which I am ashamed to say was my rightful birth place.   Tis there where my life has been one miserable event after another.  I did nothing to the people of Sharvani, yet they cused me to all Hell.  Now that I am older, and wiser, and stronger than I was when I was a boy, I vowed to go back and curse the land who cast me to the sharks.  But I knew I needed to prove myself worthy of the new status I was building for myself.  So, I swore into piracy, and soon was recognized for my dedication to the art.  The Lamminger was governed by an old warewolf captain, who took me under his mentorship, and made me who I am today.   Upon his death, he deemed me the new captain of the vessel.  As soon as I was deemed, I performed this heist as my right of passage into leadership. "

He chuckles at the thought but quickly collects himself to tell Raven the last part.  The most important part.

" There is a price to pay for such wickedness.  I am paying it now and will forever pay into this debt until I find a way to break the curse that witch has cast upon me.   Curse or no curse, I intend to sail back to Sharvani, once I've secured a new crew.  And this time, it won't be for a friendly visit."

His expression grows demonically cold.  But nothing directed toward Raven.

" Forgive me if I seem to sound like a heartless demon.  Tis nothing personal toward you."

He makes a fist with his metallic hand.

" When I am fit to return to Sharvani, the land of dreams, I will covet that putrid place, steal the wenches from their husbands, and force every man and boy who are fit to work, into a life of slavery and bastardize them as they have bastardized me.   Of course, without a crew this is not possible.  But, it's nice to have a strategy at the ready just in case things change. Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened to the couple I took that diamond from..  No need to worry about anyone looking for it,  I strangled the Dam, and decapitated her husband just to make sure the word would not get out."

He finds another glass, and pours rum into it.  With only one hand to work with, he sets down the keg and picks the glass up, offering it to Raven.

" Before you go my dear, would you do me the honor of sharing a drink with me?"