Ahoy, matey [Private - NightAir]

[Katla]

 

Name: Takeshi (a bastard's son of a whore and never gained a last name since his father never officially adopted him - he got a Japanese name based on the fact that his mom was Japanese). His pirate nickname is Mad Dog.

 

Age: 20

 

Sexuality: So far he has only had sex with a handful of women or so - but he has at times wondered if he could have sex with a man.

 

Appearance:

 

Takeshi is a fierce looking young man. The years have not been gentle to him and it is very plain to be seen within his gaze. His hair is of a very unique and beautiful dark purple color and it is always slightly shaggy and falls around his face - it is however silky smooth to the touch despite looking like it has never been introduced to a comb. His one working eye is very dark - so dark it seems black; making his gaze even more piercing and adding onto his rather wild appearance. His eyebrows are black and well shaped, his forehead high and his features somewhat elegant if one would look closely. His nose is seemingly normal; neither being too small nor large - and he has been somewhat lucky with never having broken it in his countless fights. His mouth is somewhat his most tempting feature (when he's wearing clothes); what with his lips being very sensually shaped as if they are meant to be kissed for hours. He also has very good and white teeth (seeing his lifestyle and what year it is).

 

His features are handsome in a rather wild and rugged manner. He would never be described as cute or pretty, but rather dangerously good looking. It takes a certain taste to find him appealing, as he usually seems too much of a wild hound for anyone to actually take a certain interest in him. But oh boy, those who do enjoy danger and wild men are sure to fall quickly in love with that untamed beast. Because only those who can appreciate battles and the fierceness of life can see his untamed beauty.

 

He has a lean build at first sight, but his body is very toned with the muscles of a man whom has fought in countless battles and sailed a ship for almost his entire life. He is therefore very strong, having an iron grip, and his body is also flexible and very good at taking a beating. His complexion is tanned, his skin is pretty smooth but his hands are scarred and rugged and his back is covered with ugly scars. Across his washboard abs is a long scar after a sword. He has a few scars after being shot here and there, and a scar after being stabbed in his left thigh. Across his left eye is a scar as well, but he will never take off his bandages around others. The pain of when he lost his eye is still too fresh for Takeshi - and he never did forgive his father for crippling him in such a manner.

 

Takeshi stands at roughly 180 cm (5'10") and he hates people that are taller than him.

 

He wears any type of clothing - as long as they are light and give him the flexibility needed to either squeeze through tight openings or to survive in a battle. He has white bandages wrapped around his head in order to cover his left eye (or what used to be his left eye).

 

 

 

 

Personality:

 

The young man is a bit naive at times and his temper almost always gets the best of him. He is though very intelligent and a natural born leader - which shows mostly in the fact that all the men on his ship follow him without a question. He has a habit of running his fingers through his hair if he feels awkward or tensed up.

 

Takeshi is brave (to the point of acting recklessly at times), cunning and a fierce warrior. Despite never being allowed to show a weakness as a pirate captain - he still refrains from actually bullying people or attacking the weak and wounded ones. He also wont allow any raping on his ship. This, he explains, is only due to his pride (not wanting to look like a weakling by attacking the weaker); but he actually is a bit kind deep down. His father beat him up and punished him in cruel manners every time he would let this kinder side of his shine through - so Takeshi quickly learned how to act as a true pirate should. His crew respects his wishes and those that don't are either kicked off the ship or executed.

 

He doesn't like giving people second chances and it is incredibly difficult to earn his trust. The young man is also more stubborn than could be considered normal - and his naive side is often reflected at those times. He is loyal to those that have earned his trust - and all of his crew know that he'd probably walk into death for them.

 

Bio:

 

Takeshi's mom was a whore that died at his birth. He was raised at the brothel she worked in until the tender age of 5 - then his father claimed him as his son and took him to the sea. His father was a very feared and ruthless pirate and he was never seen showing any kindness to his son. Rather, he let Takeshi slave away from day one. He taught the child how to fight with and without a weapon. Takeshi learned quickly how to steal and using the art of pick pocketing. The young boy was often whipped for disobeying or talking back at the captain of the ship (his father) - explaining the scars that cover his back.

 

An incident happened when Takeshi was only 14 years old - his father was once again teaching him how to fight properly - but the old pirate was drunk and therefore not careful in the least bit. The fight resulted in the father accidentally plunging his dagger into Takeshi's left eye and rendering him blind on that eye. Ever since then, instead of wearing a pretty standard eye-patch, Takeshi has covered his eye with bandages that are wrapped around his head.

 

When Takeshi was just 16 years old his father died and the boy rose up to be the captain of the ship. It was a struggle at first, but most of the men could almost instantly recognize him as their leader. The young man has hardened through the years - and he is very well known as a feared pirate under his pirate nickname. Almost everybody seem to recognize that dangerously handsome and fierce half-Japanese captain who is called Mad Dog. It only seems to have added to his horrible reputation how young he was when he first took control of The Lost Treasure.

 

 

 

It was still early in the day, noon had not yet passed - yet The Lost Treasure had made a good headway on her journey. The sea was well behaved on this particular day and the wind blew gently into the raised sails, giving just enough boost so that the ship gently cut her way through the small waves. The Lost Treasure was not overly large in build, although impressive in its own way, - but instead it was a fast vessel. Many a captain had underestimated not only the captain and crew, but the ship itself - and only a few of those captains had survived to see another day. And now she was once again on a journey to bring some unfortunate souls down to the bottom of the ocean. Just three days before, the pirate crew had heard news of a cargo ship - or more importantly a slavery ship - that had left the port of New Haven and was headed west. Ships like that almost always had more than just slaves on-board; more than once and more than twice had Takeshi taken his crew on a quest of destroying and overtaking slavery ships and they always got a shitload of loot.

 

The young captain of the pirate ship seemed to have a nose for these things; he had never lead his crew astray and never had they lost a battle at sea. They were pretty well off as pirates and were held in pretty high esteem by most. So there was no wonder that The Mad Dog was held in very high regards on his ship. So right now, Takeshi hoped that Lady Luck was once more on his side. It seemed that she had been hidden away until the day his father died - and only then had everything started to go right for the young man. His future finally seemed to be bright, despite his occupation and the fact that he would be hanged the moment he'd be caught by the good law-abiding citizens of this world.

 

Right now he was wearing a black shirt that fit him loosely, and black pants that were also a bit baggy. Both of them held a dozen of hidden pockets with small knives or other objects that could be used as weapons. On his feet were light brown and very worn shoes that he preferred over others; as they had a particularly good grip and were excellent when he had to climb up ropes. As per usual when in the company of others, he had white bandages wrapped around his head - covering his left eye. Hanging against his right hip was a katana he had gotten imported for his own selfish reasons. A normal sword would have been just as good, but the young man wanted to stubbornly hold onto the small Japanese heritage that ran through his veins. This katana was as sharp as they got, and the hilt was as black as his own eye. A gun lay against his left hip, although the young captain usually refrained from using it. He liked getting up close to his opponents, wanted to see the fear within their eyes. He himself wanted the adrenaline rush that swallowed him up as he himself danced on the very edge of death as he fought face to face with a strong opponent.

 

Young Takeshi felt his vessel suddenly picking up the speed, and a salty spray of ocean came gushing at his face with a stronger gust of wind. At that moment a dark smile crossed his sensual lips and he narrowed his eye a bit from a familiar sense of excitement. As he had suspected, the wind was picking up the closer to noon it came. He swiftly pulled out his binocular and looked ahead, soon they would see the price they were chasing.

 

"Got a view of 'er yet, captain?"

 

He shook his head and kept watching the horizon. The presence of his 5'7", sturdy and bearded first mate (and right hand man in just about everything), Luke, did not bother him the least bit. He actually welcomed the company of that redheaded bastard so that they could contemplate together the fate of the ship that lay ahead. The two of them had always been good friends - despite Luke being ten years older than Takeshi's 20 years. Luke had been the first man to recommend Takeshi for the part of being a captain and that would never be forgotten.

 

"I wager we got 'bout half 'n hour before we see her."

 

"Aye. Do we know what the cargo is?"

 

"No. I'll bet you a half of my cut though that it's going to be a fatter prize than the last time."

 

Takeshi's delightful grin caused the other man to let out a guffaw of a laughter before they again put their full attention to what would be laying ahead. True to Takeshi's words, only slightly short of half an hour - they spotted a dark shadow in the distance. Instantly, the young captain filled his lungs with the fresh ocean air and screamed out to the crew.

 

"Avast! We are gaining on 'er!"

 

His men cheered with loud screams and laughter. Whoops of excitement cut through the air as they praised their captain until he ran his fingers through his hair with a slightly irritated and slightly awkward expression on his face. That of course only made Luke start yelling with the others so that he could see his captain shoot him a dirty look from underneath his lashes. After a moment, weapons were laid out, all possible hands went underneath to row and help The Lost Treasure gain the speed needed. Like a water python, the ship cut faster through the ocean as she rapidly approached the slavery ship. Just when Takeshi was sure the enemies would have noticed them, he waved to his watchman to let the flag flutter in the wind. The men of the other ship would surely start panicking by now, as they were hardly planning on having any company on their way. Let alone having the ship of The Mad Dog sniffing at their heels. It was a slim chance in Hell that they would have any good ways of defending themselves, unless of course they hid away a canon or two - and would force the slaves to fight for them.

 

The pirates kept gaining until they could see the men running back and forth on the deck of the other ship. Takeshi held tightly onto a rope while leaning dangerously out of the ship, ready to jump onto the other one when close enough; whilst yelling out orders with his strong voice. His men already knew what to do - but hearing the commands and encouraging yelling from the captain would only boost the fighting spirit. The smell of fear and sweat stung at his nose - and The Mad Dog let out a loud whoop of excitement before he jumped (and crossed a rather ridiculously long distance between the ships) with his katana raised high in the air - his first target a mousey blonde man with a long mustache and large, frightened blue eyes. None of the slaves would be attacked, as one of the rules, unless they would actually be fighting against the pirates. The crew of the pirate ship followed soon enough and all Hell would break loose in a short amount of time.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

 

 

Name: Cain

 

Age: 24

 

Sexuality: He has only ever been interested in men.

 

Appearance:

 

 

 

 

His jawbone is as sharp as it is strong, neck and torso as thick and long, and his shoulders broad. In essence, perfect for working in the fields, the manual labor. He would even be perfect on a ship.

 

If you were to come closer, you would realize he wears a basket muzzle; not leather, no, but one made from same thick metal of horseshoes and iron gates. "We had no spares, but better on him than the dogs," the dockman says to you. "Just as a precaution. The man gets into fights faster than you can blink."

 

His black shirt he's discarded somewhere, and he doesn't have his shoes on, just loose pants at his waist. You would notice that the corded muscles on his back taper down to a smooth waistline where hands would easily fit to smooth down onto hipbones and ass. Then up at strong shoulders that could bear your thighs if you so wanted him to. Someone could certainly be...tempted.

 

Upon further inspection, you would see he has no softness to his form; he is angles and muscle and a glare of black eyes from under his hair, fine and equally as dark, when he catches you staring. He turns around to pick up some more of the cargo.

 

And you would spot, of course the slave mark on his back; but then you would understand that no slave mark possesses such extension of wings--someone burned him a long time ago with an iron mark, and someone else put more on him. More and more and more; it resembles more of a magic spell. For some reason, it gives you an odd feeling, and you ask about this. It is not a slave mark, you learn. It is one of the inked tribal markings of the slaves--but somehow, you think you have never seen sharp lines and curves such as this, and they speak up against the years of scars and wounds over his body.

 

"Does he know how to work on a ship?" you ask.

 

The head of the dock puffs on his pipe. Nervously. Then, he says, "Uh, Mad Dog. Sir. You should know he's near six feet tall when he stands up."

 

Personality:

 

Cain has never learned to trust someone in his life; he believes this is pragmatic. He's suspicious of any and all offerings, believing they have ulterior motives. Having spent the majority of his life among the worst of people, he is no stranger to how humans work or what he himself is capable of. He adapts quickly to routine without protest otherwise. He's good at work. Just does what he needs to, which is day-in, day-out, helping pack in cargo on the pirate ships coming in on the island.

 

His bark is worse than his bite for the most part. He's sardonic, and can be a little cocky and sarcastic when he doesn't agree with what you say. He gets amused by the littlest of things; like tempers and the idea of loyalty. At the same time, he'll do what you tell him to; it's an instinct, despite whoever little he will like the order itself. To survive, to get anything, you will need to wait for an opportunity. You need to keep your head down as much as you dislike it, and you must not make trouble until the moment is right.

 

He's impatient with those that fall out of the order of natural things. People should only really be one way.

 

Despite his distrust of other people, he can be incredibly fond of children. He finds naivety a rare trait, and as a result is incredibly patient, if not somewhat fascinated, with them. Cain has yet to find that in another person; and he doubts it persists in adults.

 

Bio:

 

Cain's mother was an slave who gave birth to him on the very ship that had kidnapped her and brought her to port to be sold. She would rather have drowned him, but the man who bought them wanted them both, especially when he resembled more his unknown father than his mother. They ran away years later, and his mother had symbols of her tribe burnt onto their backs to replace the ugly slave marker.

 

He made a living growing up by fighting, stealing, and killing among a very unpleasant crowd. His mother passed away once he was sixteen, but not before Cain was picked up by a pirate who liked the look of him, and Cain learned how it was that pirates functioned. He disliked the code, but learned how important it was for crew to stick together. Eight years later found him settling back on honest work, up until now.

 

 

 

The holding quarters where the slaves were kept, small as it was, was filthy and putrid from the residue of seasickness. Spilt shit and piss from the communal buckets stunk the air, even when the hatchway was open. Nobody bothered coming down to clean. In the beginning, the crew had brought the slaves up on deck to feed them, make them dance and play and fight for their entertainment. But since a few of them had jumped overboard, desperate to escape what horrors awaited them, they'd been kept in the hold in the lower decks. With only their clothes to their backs, women and children had their ankles shackled to one half of the hold. The men, on the other hand, learned to discard their shirts--whippings were frequent, and there was no need for it below where the heat was suffocating, except as a pillow.

 

Cain set his teeth and tried to stop his reflex to gag as the smell of vomit wafted throughout the small space. He was a large man in height, but the confines were small, and were none better for comfort. The muzzle only made it more difficult; the heavy wrought iron weighed his head down and dug into his face whether he lied down or sat up. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the crew had conveniently lost the key to it—every time they came down under the deck for feedings, they seemed to take great relish in the sight. Mouthing off to them in the middle of a beating had likely not been the best of actions, and neither had been nearly biting off an ear with his teeth when the sailor in question had been distracted. Now in hindsight, he wondered if subscribing to his pride hadn’t been a little bit stupid. A combination of the ship rolling over the waves, the diseased smell, and the suffocating heat in the hold had already been enough for Cain’s sea-steady stomach to flip itself inside out since yesterday. He wasn't sure if he could handle another day of this.

 

Beside him, the man who had thrown up was sobbing. He could not have been more than eighteen--at the cusp of boy and manhood. Snot and tears streamed and dribbled down his face.

 

The others in the hold flickered their eyes away, uneasy with this display. Cain could relate. Since the few days they’d left the port of New Haven, more than a few of them had suffered. One had died last night, begging someone to strangle him. When nobody had stood up for the task, he had strangled himself with his own chains. What was left of his corpse was hauled up deck to be tossed overboard. They had all suffered here; that someone had broken was unpleasant--a sign that they too would fall into despair.

 

“Stop cryin'," Cain snapped, unsympathetic. His sharp words rasped against his throat. Water hadn’t been handed out yet, and his mouth was dryer it would’ve been had he swallowed salt water. “Eat, unless you want to starve your fool self.” If he could have bothered wasting the energy to kick him, he would've. Punishments for not eating included being beaten and whipped; the children huddled against women both familiar and strange already had seen too much.

 

The other man glared back, hiccuping through as he dry-heaved again. "Better to die than be down in 'ere," he spat. "You wanna say somethin'?"

 

Cain sat back, aware of the mounting anger. Too many men with too many tempers. Cain could have laughed at the naivety of it all, at how easily they could get themselves riled up. There would be likely three seconds of fresh air before his back would be riddled with marks. Not worth the risk, not that the man who looked like he'd sooner like to try Cain in a fight would know. You needed to survive.

 

Still. He'd benefit nothing; and there was no need to play nice with this idiot.

 

"That's what you want?" he asked him, sardonic. "You want faster, you wring your neck like your friend."

 

With a cry, the other man flung himself at him; Cain was ready to meet him, kicking him soundly in the stomach. Sound passed easily from the ship's lower decks to the upper. It was half of the reason why most of the slaves had been threatened with silence before they left the port. At sea, there was nothing to stop the slaves from fighting amongst themselves, and the sailors would often let it go, keeping watch from above.

 

However, the footsteps and occasional talk from the sailors above turned into frantic shouts. Boots pounded down the creaky wooden stairs, and the hatch flew open, arresting them both. Someone screamed.

 

"Pirates," gasped the first man--the first mate--and he looked like a wild man. The women huddled, fear on their faces. "Pirates up there, and if you lot know what's good for you, you'll be fightin' for us." Blood was dribbling down his arm as he swung around a keyring laden with its rusted iron keys. "Who here can fight a good one, eh?" He smiled, but it was crooked and desperate, as his eye swung over to Cain. "You two."

 

Cain could have laughed. He did, and it grated his throat. "Slavers askin' the slaves for help?" he asked, even as the iron shackle was opened, but the first mate ignored him. He stumbled up to his feet, but his heart was already pounding slowly in his throat. Pirates.

 

Barricade the hold doors and they'd all survive, really. Slaves were useful cargo; good currency--at the same time, it was near impossible to escape from a pirate ship. They knew the seas better than regular sailors did. Still. The women and children didn't suffer easier no matter who it was. Serving on a pirate crew in his youth had been enough for Cain to know that rule.

 

Thirteen men were freed from their chains, and raced up the decks to face the pirates. Cain stayed in the back so he could grab a sword from one of the men--not one of theirs, he thought--who had fallen. He kicked him down, and turned, just in time to block the blow from one such.

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[Katla]

Takeshi's katana sang a melody of death as it swung through the air; light as a feather but the blade biting without mercy into and through flesh and bones. Cries of pain and despair filled the air, his nose tickled from the metallic smell of fresh blood that sprayed in every direction. The crew did not hold too many men but they were desperate to stay alive, and thus swung their weapons and shot blindly into the air in the hopes of hitting one of the pirates. Despite being engulfed within the fight, the pirate captain managed to look over the small battlefield and was glad that none of his men seemed to have fallen. Sure there was one or two that were injured but so far things were going fine. He moved swiftly to the back deck of the ship, sniffing out a man hiding there while reloading his gun. There was no asking for mercy, the gun was swung at the pirate captain and he in return swung his katana and cut off the man's head as easily as if he had been slicing a piece of butter.

 

He made his way back towards the fray, but frowned as he heard new cries of battle and literally smelled the slaves that had been set free to fight for the slavers. Shit. He had hoped that it wouldn't come down to this. He had no interest in attacking the slaves and he had wanted to keep their casualties down. No matter if he was a pirate and a captain at that, then he detested the very thought of anyone being robbed of their freedom. Therefore, none of his crew had ever been forced into his services - and every single slave they had encountered had been set free or allowed to join the crew on The Lost Treasure. Heaving a sigh, he swiftly turned around the corner and swung his katana towards the first armed man he met. Only to gasp softly underneath his breath as the blade of his katana hit the sword of a slave. There was no real question about why Takeshi knew instantly that this man was a slave. Not only the smell gave it away, but also the fact that he barely wore any clothes and had a wild look in his eyes.

 

But the fact that the man was a slave was not why Takeshi gasped out, no, it was because that man was not only huge (he made Takeshi feel somewhat insignificant and tiny - despite the captain being no wallflower and considerably strong and manly) but because that giant of a man had strapped on his face a basked muzzle. A freaking strong looking and intimidating one at that.

 

For this short second of surprise, Takeshi's one working eye widened a bit as he was forced to look up into his opponent's face. And then, as he realized that he did indeed have to look 'up' - his temper rose. Slave or no slave, he wanted to kick his ass. Tall people were one of the things that got the young captain seriously pissed off as he had frequently when younger been teased about being half Japanese and would probably always be a tiny little twerp. I can't lose my head in the battle. Barely a moment had passed as they were face to face, before Takeshi pushed his katana against the other man's sword with all of his strength in hopes of getting him slightly off his balance, before his right foot would shoot out in a sideways kick at the other man's left thigh. Whether the kick would hit or not, the pirate captain would sidestep neatly out of the other man's way - send him a seething glare - before he'd shout out at the top of his lungs:

 

"SLAVES! STOP FIGHTING IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES. THIS FIGHT IS OVER, YOUR CAPTORS ARE DEAD OR IN OUR CAPTIVITY. ANYONE WHO WISHES SO WILL BE SET FREE."

 

He kept a wary eye on the giant that he was rapidly backing away from, as his fierce gaze scanned the battlegrounds. True to his word, it seemed that most of the workers on the ship were fallen. A slave or two seemed to have gotten themselves killed as well, despite the pirate crew doing what they could to -not- slaughter them.

 

Now the question was, would the slaves stop fighting and drop their weapons - or would they think that Takeshi was lying and keep fighting for their lives? He looked with an irritated expression at the giant with the muzzle, and had to fight back the urge to stick his tongue out at the man. He successfully kept his tongue within his mouth, as he seriously doubted that it'd be popular among his crew if their captain would start acting like a six year old brat. But his gaze kept sending daggers towards the other as he swiftly sized him up. Not only was the mystery slave tall, but he seemed to be more than capable of ripping someone's head off with his bare hands. His form was muscular, corded muscles even seemed to spread to his shoulders and neck. He didn't wear a shirt so it was easy to see that his body was almost scary with its strong form and thick muscles. His face, from what Takeshi could see behind the muzzle, was not exactly handsome or soft in any way - but still ... he couldn't fight back the thought of that man being a bit attractive. Despite being annoyingly big.

 

The Hell is wrong with me? I should leave that jerk on an island somewhere to rot instead of looking at him like a bitch in heat ...

 

He tore his gaze away from the man and searched the ship's deck for Luke. Upon seeing the red haired, shaggy old friend, Takeshi let out a sigh of relief and nodded towards the older man. They both waited, tense and ready to spring into action if there would be more bloodshed. But seeing as the slavers that were still alive had lost their will to fight - the captain hoped that the same would be said about their captives.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

Once he'd hit eighteen, height was never something Cain took into consideration for his opponents; he was taller, this was fact, but it didn't mean he couldn't be beaten in other ways. Sprouting a good feet or two had made it near impossible for pick-pocketing, and it meant an advantage in intimidation, true. But it meant nothing when whoever he was fighting knew what they were doing. Having spent more than a few days in the holding quarters, Cain's legs weren't fully sea-worthy.

 

The force of both blades meeting rang into the borrowed sword all the way to the grip; Cain grit his teeth, and met eye to eye with--

 

--a kid? No, Cain realized the same moment he could see the other man's single eye widen and the expression on his face turn to from surprise to indignant anger as he craned his neck up to look at him. For a moment, he felt amusement fill him at how out of place it was. I'm fighting a brat. He almost would have grinned, almost half-mockingly, half in derision had a foot not slammed on his thigh, sending him reeling back.

 

His hand curled over the grip of his borrowed blade, prepared to lash out, even as the shorter man's declaration caused several of the other slaves to draw pause. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the slaves had begun to lower their blades. At first, he didn't understand it. Then he realized they wanted to be convinced. They were amenable to it, and were beginning to let down their guard.

 

Disgust filled him. Set free? What a laugh. In life, no. In death, yes. Either the pirates would find the slaves too cumbersome and shoot them to prevent them from any future possibility of trouble--the women and children would likely survive to the auction blocks; the men who were fighting now would not--or they would be sold once they hit port. Even with the sight of the slavers on their knees, it wasn't enough to dissuade him of the fact that this was like any other trick. You traded one captor for another, but you could never escape the cycle. The slave mark hidden under his burnt tattoo was more than evidence of that.

 

He circled him, slow, weapon still at the ready in case it was just something to keep them off . There was no denying the fierceness or the control of command that made him attractive; had Cain met him in a bar somewhere, they would've found themselves in one of the inn rooms, hands rucking up shirts and mouths on skin with adrenaline and alcohol and arousal pumping through their veins, fighting and biting--especially that mouth of his--until one of them ceded. But now was not the time.

 

The brat had to be their leader. Nobody spoke like that, trying to convince you something was good unless they were used to giving commands and people following them. His hand tightened on his blade. He wouldn't be able to cut him down now, or continue fighting. Pirates didn't bargain, but it looked like the other slaves believed this one's crew might, and Cain certainly could not handle making enemies of them if they all went back into the holding bay at the end of the day. Growing up, he had seen men at their worst. Open dissent when a group was clearly leaning towards supporting something was a bad choice.

 

The muzzle over the lower half of his face made the words clunky like they always did."What's in it for you, kid?" he asked slowly, gruffly, though he wasn't sure what had drawn him to add the extra term. Maybe something about giving reason to get angry look, the lingering glares. Maybe to keep himself back in control. He found it at odds with the man's attempt to be merciful, the words of so-called benignity that didn't belong here. There had to be something he wanted. Was it gold? Was it loot? As far as Cain had known, the slavers would have sunk the crates of gold the moment they spotted the pirates.

 

It was in best interest to go along, he knew. It was the smart thing to do. But Cain still couldn't trust it. This whole situation was incredibly unbelievable. End up on a slaver's ship only to be rescued by pirates, only for the pirates to promise their freedom. It sounded like something a mother would tell to her child. Like a lie someone who couldn't grasp it for himself would cling onto.

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[Katla]

It had been overly optimistic to think that all of the slaves would listen to what Takeshi had to say. And he had to remember also that these men had been broken more than once and more than twice in their lives. They were at the bottom right now and he could understand if promises like his own sounded a bit too good. But he did not appreciate how he was being looked at from that big guy he had encountered before. Slowly, like a shark in the deep water, the slave circled the pirate captain. His one working eye followed every movement of that dangerous looking guy. Despite having met his share of shady people throughout his life, then Takeshi knew instantly that that guy was not one to take lightly. Obviously, nobody could ever afford to look away from him for a moment. His expression was that of a starved, injured wolf that had been backed into a corner but still refused to give up and let go.

 

No wonder they put that muzzle on him. Takeshi stiffened as he was addressed by that man. The voice was raspy, cold and filled with spite. But his reaction was nothing compared to the outrageous growls of his crew or the way Luke burst forward with his gun cocked ready. He was just a second from blowing that slave's brain out - but a raised hand from Takeshi barely stopped that action right before things would get ugly. No matter if his own temper was at a boiling point, then the captain still had to keep the peace. At least until everything was under complete control. Then maybe, just maybe, he could kick that asshole again.

 

"You are addressing our captain, and you will show respect, you rotten bastard!"

 

Luke's face was just about as red as his hair and beard were, and some spit followed his words as he grit them out. With an obvious look of regret, he lowered his weapon but kept a hard glare on the slave in question. Takeshi sighed and rubbed his forehead. This was not a good situation, not at all. A definite stirring was to be noticed within the small group of slaves, and Takeshi knew that he had to make that growling wolf stop and sit down like a good boy before he'd cause his 'buddies' to start fighting again. But how exactly? He could always use force, but that would only cause the others to think of him as a liar and the pirate that he was. Plus the fact that this slave didn't really seem like he'd had it easy up until that moment, and engaging in a fight with someone that was weakened was completely against Takeshi's code. So what could he do other than keep holding onto his pride as he'd use his words instead of his fists. With all of his dignity as a captain, he rose up to his full height and thrust his chin slightly out while staring the slave down. He would not be the first one to look away.

 

"It doesn't befit my pride to bully those that are obviously at the rock bottom. So what I gain from letting you all leave my sight as soon as we get to the next port - is the obvious fact that I wont get my hands stained by dirty blood that wont leave me with a sweet taste of victory in my mouth. I'm only interested in gold, wine and good fights. None of you lot can provide me with that. I don't waste my time dealing with human trafficking and I sure as hell don't care about letting a handful of weak and pathetic slaves go."

 

His tone was as icy as his glare was. He had to make sure that nobody would really find him -too- kind. Rather he'd be seen as a lazy bastard with no care to give about anyone, since that at least wouldn't get him killed as quickly as if people suspected that he was a kind weakling.

 

"Is that reasoning good enough for you, or do you want to get yourself and your comrades into trouble by keep barking at me?"

 

He couldn't quite control the way his eye narrowed and a corner of his mouth lifted in a small smug smile as his dominating side got the better of him. There was a heavy load of arrogance and a clear 'back-the-fuck-down' tone underlining his words. This young man was obviously used to things going as he wanted them to without anyone questioning his authority for too long. And he also very obviously knew that this slave could get in trouble if his comrade slaves would turn against him. The air was getting tenser by the second around the two of them - as this was a very typical scenario of two alpha males meeting and sizing each other up before they'd attempt to bite each others throats. Not for one second did Takeshi lower his katana as he fully expected that giant to attack him, despite the fact that just about every crew-member of the pirate ship seemed to be ready to shoot him.

 

Takeshi feared that it'd be getting more and more difficult to hold his men back while holding onto his own little 'I don't care' facade. Luke was probably the only one that really got the deal and could respect Takeshi's wishes when it came to dealing with these type of situations. But Luke also had a limit and that slave seemed to be pushing every single one of the older man's nerves.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

The tension could have been sliced with a sword.

 

Considering the fact his policy was usually to keep his head down, Cain was doing poorly. The gun to his temple had certainly made his muscles tense even if he hadn't flinched, even if the spittle flying at his brow was incredible in amount. Once the gun had been lowered, Cain's couldn't help but find the situation astounding: A man whose crew clearly adored him to little bitty smithereens enough to take so much offense they would jump up to defend his honour. Cain had seen children on the streets reacting with less dramatics than the brat's crew.

 

He could tell Spit-Red would have preferred to shoot him dead where he stood. His face was pulsing red, and his eyes were promising something that Cain had not had threatened to him in years. It made the adrenaline pump through Cain's veins, his hands twitch almost instinctively on the grip of the sword. The instant his Captain withdrew his policy, there was no doubt the first thing that would happen would be a gunshot to the skull.

 

He bared his teeth, mouth in a twisted excuse for smile. "I'll respect your Captain when he spends his days in a hold with walls painted in shit, piss, and vomit and no sooner."

 

The other slaves were drawing their conclusions. Some were smarter. They were waiting to see what would become of Cain, as an example, and decide what to do from there. Others had already begun to slowly lower their swords to the ground, while one or two eyed the red-haired first mate's gun in hungry, thoughtful consideration. For Cain, what had transpired confirmed but one thing: the promise for life and freedom was only as good as the Captain was alive and could reinforce it. They could trust no such more from the pirate crew.

 

Ironic, considering this Captain was trying to make his crew into something atypical.

 

And then, the brat spoke.

 

In all other scenarios, Cain would have easily agreed with the terms had he not been suspicious of their origins. But now, the little speech having happened, his first response was utter confusion. He stared, for a moment. Then he barked out in laughter. It was a harsh grate, sharp, and singular. One laugh. One outburst. Cain could acknowledge that the slaves were "weak and pathetic", because that was what they were. They did not come waltzing out of anything but Satan's asshole, the walking likely-diseased. But what pirate cared so much about having his hands "stained with dirty blood", concerned himself with the "sweet taste of victory"? It was almost cute, idealistic. That someone could say it with a straight face was--

 

--well, interesting.

 

He grinned, all teeth. "After that?" he laughed, mockingly, "You certainly have my respect now." He tossed his sword at the ground. With a clang, it landed on the deck.

 

Taking his cue, the others were dumping their swords too. As much as his personal surrender had been combined with sarcasm, it was as if they sensed exactly the danger lines between the rest of the crew snapping and their own guaranteed safety.

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[Katla]

Takeshi gripped the handle of his katana until his knuckles ached. He knew perfectly well that he was being mocked and right at this moment he really felt like the pirate he was. He wanted that slave to walk the plank, not any later than five minutes from now. But he only huffed out a breath and sheathed his katana. This was not the right moment to get into a fight. First he'd make sure that his opponent got a good night's rest, some food and water - and then they could brawl to the death. The pirate captain was pretty sure that that was also the wish of that insolent man whom didn't seem to know the right moments to at least pretend to be afraid. Remember who you are. You are the captain. You must assess control. He couldn't afford to lose control of his temper at this moment. No matter how much he was fuming on the inside.

 

His gaze was turned towards Luke whom looked just about ready to commit a murder. It was a wonder that he and the other pirates always listened to Takeshi's words - even when they were foolish and selfish like on this very day. The lot of them were seasoned pirates, but they had the patience of saints when it came to their young captain.

 

"Take all the cargo you can find. Take the slaves to our ship, feed them and get them water. If there are injured ones then let Zeke check them out," he paused and glared back at the giant whom still stood in front of him, "also find out who holds the key to his muzzle and get rid of it. Or just find a way to cut it off. I don't care either way, just get that annoying thing off. I'm going to the captain's quarters to see what I can find in there. Remember our wager." He winked at his good friend before turning on his heel. Luke nodded tersely and looked at the back of his retreating captain, his gaze a bit thoughtful as he wondered if the captain truly knew just how important he was to some of the crew. He waited silently until Takeshi was almost out of sight before he reluctantly turned his head towards the slave in question. His gaze shot daggers in the other male's direction before he spoke with a growly tone.

 

"Well? Who has the key? Or I can try to rip this off... maybe I'll take your insolent tongue with it. Although if it were up to me, I'd just leave you with that muzzle on. Seems to suit you just fine. I'm sure your face is not worth having a look at anyway."

 

He stroked his beard with a smug smile as he swung his sword back and forth, clearly entertaining the thought of doing some reckless swinging of his sword.

 

"Hurry up now lad, I've got a more important job to do."

 

Whilst they would battle out together to get that muzzle off, then Takeshi found the door to the captain's quarters and entered it silently. He had not noticed anyone on the deck that could have passed as the captain, so he was ready for anything or anyone springing towards him upon his arrival in the small room. However, he was able to somewhat relax as he saw a limp body sprawled in a small wooden chair behind a small desk. It seemed like the captain had taken the easy way out - obviously not wanting to become the victim of pirates. Takeshi smiled grimly. It was a well known fact that he, The Mad Dog, had made it very obvious to all that slavers were never spared. He would cut their heads off without a second thought and have their bodies on display just to warn others.

 

Knowing full well that the ship would be burnt after they were done retrieving what they could, he started to open up cabinets and closets. A triumphant look crossed his face as he stacked a few whiskey and rum bottles onto the desk. A fat pouch with gold was also retrieved from the dead man in there. A little bit of other good things were found in there, so Takeshi only hoped that Luke would find more in the bottom of the ship. Otherwise it'd look like the captain would lose their little bet. His thoughts took a turn and he pictured an angry face half-hidden behind a large muzzle. What an annoying and peculiar guy that was. The young captain was half-way tempted to offer that giant to join his crew, but thought to himself if a man like that would ever be able to listen and take orders from a youngster like himself.

 

"It would be for the bloody best to just throw him on land in the next port."

 

The words were murmured to himself as he grabbed a bottle of rum, opened it up and took a hearty swig of it. By now, most of the slaves had probably been moved to The Lost Treasure. There their doctor, Zeke, would take matters in his own hands. The pirates had a good stock of water and food since they had just recently left the port in New Haven. Takeshi took another swig of the rum as he knew he had to go out there again and be face to face with the slave that seemed to already hate him just as much as Takeshi disliked him. Tense situations like that had always bothered Takeshi. But there was little to do about that, as they'd only have to suffer each other's presences for a day or two longer. Depending on where they'd decide to take port next. Or more importantly, depending on when they'd murder each other.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

Even with the smaller man gone, the memory of his glare was enough to keep the grin fresh on Cain's face and the thrill run up his spine. The expression was at complete odds with his words, and maybe that spoke volumes about the kind of people that Cain tended to get on the bad side of. Cain watched him depart, eyes steady, cataloguing everything from the wink--ah, must have been some wager about the loot, or whatever else this kind of crew liked--to the way he moved. For someone so young to be Captain, he had a strong presence around him, and the men in the way parted like a sea.

 

He could see the male slaves cutting him a look of unease, even as they began to guide the pirates down the stairs to the lower decks. Moments later, the other slaves and pirates had returned to the deck with the women and children. Huddled together, frightened and pale, they looked like numbed shells of the human beings they had been. Skin that had once been scrubbed clean and dirtless as you could get was now covered in dirt. Nice, clean clothes they'd been wearing when they'd been thrown in the holding quarters were now filthy beyond compare; not worth washing, but burning.

 

The pirates were herding the group across the plank to the pirate ship. It wasn't a grand thing; Cain would have overlooked it had he been in port, dismissing it as another cargo ship--but it wasn't, was it? It had caught up with this one, which said something about its speed. One of the children almost dropped something, and it was the clanging that caused his eyes to snap over, the cheer dropping from his face.

 

"Wot's that you got there?" a pirate demanded. Not unkind, but he was large, and the children likely knew nothing about the freedom, or the survival.

 

"N...Nothing." She was a tiny thing, and her hair had once been a beautiful blond shade when they'd brought her aboard, long and plaited with a ribbon. Now the ribbon was missing and her hair had been shorn short, and she trembled before the suspicious pirate. She tucked it further under her armpit, frightened that anyone would take it away. "P-Please...please don't take it. If I don't have it, I--" She seemed to shrink, shaking, so the pirate let her go grudgingly.

 

Cain relaxed marginally, even if he knew exactly what it was she was hiding. He cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders back, before he realized that the first mate had been speaking to him. Instead of feeling cowed, all he could feel was amusement. For all his threats, this man was straightforward; there was no need to wonder about what he was thinking when he spelled it out, relishing the threats both verbal and physical. It was a nice change of pace. Simple. Obvious. Cain wouldn't have minded having a fight with someone like him. A man like this probably could put up a plenty good enough a fight.

 

He laughed at the idle threat.

 

"Oh, I ain't denyin' it," he reassured. "I don't lose any sleep over it. Pity we can't seem to say the same about yours. That beard doesn't hide that ugly shit mug enough." He tapped cheerfully at his muzzle, aware that either he'd probably offend the man into attacking, or make him laugh. Pirates were one of two options, and Cain was somehow eager to see which one this one would be when it came to jabs at himself instead of his Captain.

 

He needed answers, in all respect. What kind of a crew was this that they'd have this kind of policy on letting slaves go? What kind of a crew would obey a Captain like that? When Cain had been sixteen, young and impressionable, he'd learned exactly about only one kind of pirates. Crass, shit-mouthed vermin who had a surprisingly good sense of humour, and let Cain know exactly how well they liked it by throwing him in the brig and half-drowning him by forcing buckets of salt-water at a time until they felt he was sufficiently punished.

 

 

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[Katla]

There was a moment's silence after the comment was thrown in Luke's direction. It didn't seem like he would be responding much to what had been said straight to his face. But then his beard started twitching a little bit and there was no denying the laughter that wanted to burst out. His grey-blue eyes were narrowed just the tiniest bit as he fought to regain control of himself. Having a laugh with someone that had just offended his young captain could only mean trouble if the bad tempered youngster found out. Even if he'd never really punish Luke then it was only a question of having to sail with someone that glared holes into the back of your skull for a month or so. So, as there was, he let out a suspicious cough and turned slightly away before bellowing out:

 

"Who in the bloody bottom of hell holds the key to this muzzle here?"

 

The slaver captives flinched but nobody moved or said anything helpful. Perhaps they thought they were also safe, as the slaves themselves were, but oh boy were they wrong about that. That seemed to be just enough to snap the red head's patience as he stalked towards the group and started waving his sword around. Despite not being an overly tall man, he was still a bulky man and he could look very intimidating if he wanted to.

 

"Fingers and noses will be cut off first. Then I'll pull down your pants and -"

 

"I- I have it! I have it!"

 

A raspy and frightened voice cut through the air. Luke looked down at the man in question, a pathetic excuse of a frightened rat with black hair and green eyes. He didn't look like he had shaved lately and his hair was thin and a complete mess. Heck, he almost looked as greasy and grim as a slave himself. Without another comment, Luke held out his hand and glared at the man in front of him. With trembling fingers, the key was dropped into the palm of his hand and with a dismissive glance, he turned away from the small group of men and walked back towards the slave he was supposed to help out.

 

"Can I take that off without you wanting to munch on me face? Despite you not liking it, then I have a great deal of affection for it. The wenches are just crazy about the beard." As he talked in his usual harsh manner, he reached upwards and placed the key in its spot. With a final warning glance, he turned it briskly and unlocked the bulky thing. A loud mental clank echoed throughout the ship as the muzzle fell down and almost hit Luke's toes. Fortunately for him he managed to dance away and avoid having a toe or two broken. "Bet it's good to breathe freely again, eh? A little advice to you, if you want to keep breathin' then ye better settle down around our young captain." He flung the key to the ground and then looked up at the much taller man.

 

"Name's Luke. First mate of The Lost Treasure. I'm going to ask you to behave yourself on our ship. Ye seem like one big bundle of trouble, so I figure I can start by asking ye nicely before I gotta beat you to a pulp." Again his beard twitched slightly. If he wasn't wrong, then that young and tough looking man did have a crude sense of humor. And if one only spoke his language - then things could go smoothly. For the most part at least. Now it was just a question of how he'd keep his spitting and growling captain away from that big guy. "If you want to make yerself useful, you can help out with getting the other slaves to our ship. I gotta get meself going to keep an eye on the cargo being moved." He shot a glance towards the direction that Takeshi had disappeared to, before he started moving away. If the slave had a question or two, then Luke supposed he would have time to answer them - although he'd rather wait for such things until they were done with the business at hand.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

The muzzle couldn't have come off sooner enough, but just lying on the deck, it looked practically harmless. Cain worked his aching jaw open, sliding it sideways side to side to work out the soreness. His hand slid over the skin of his chin, massaging to help loosen the muscles. Luke--that was his name?--hadn't been wrong at all. It felt good to breathe something that didn't smell like the metal to cages, or keep the stink of the hold in his nose and mouth. He sucked in the air, relishing the taste on his tongue.

 

Luke seemed reasonable, like a pirate Cain could get along well with, provided the topic itself didn't touch his captain. It was good to know where they stood and what exactly he was being asked to do. Cain liked that precision, but it didn't necessarily mean that things would work out that way. He thought about the anger and indignation in that single black eye, and he wondered whether the second one matched it; he doubted he'd be able to hold back too much if it went on.

 

"Can't promise anything about behaving completely, but I'll do the second." He grinned--and without the muzzle, the motion felt looser, freer. He jerked up his chin."Just promise me once the barmaids decide they'd rather you hairless, you find some poor sot to inherit that mane of yours."

 

Laughing, and certainly in a good mood, he turned on his heel to the slaves moving from the holding quarters. The pirates around him looked like they weren't sure how to respond. Still, Luke having given what likely had been approval, they didn't stop him as he moved. As the slaves broached the upper decks, the difference was obvious. Eyes squinted in the brightness of the sun, but still they held their faces up towards it, as exhausted and downtrodden as they were. One or two of them met his eye, still fighting and stubborn spirits. These ones wouldn't need his help.

 

"Ain't nothin' left down there," one told him. It was the same boy-man who Cain had fought earlier, stubborn and mousy, and he hadn't even been one of the thirteen to be freed. Hadn't volunteered. His pants were stained in the crotch.

 

Cain peered past him anyway, eyes flickering through the gaps of the upper deck that looked down into the hold. Nothing but opened shackles and the buckets, the dingy place stirring unpleasant thoughts. "Except your dignity, that it?" He didn't bother staying for the red anger that spread across that blotchy skin, and kept moving.

 

Behave, Luke had said. In other words, Cain had to play nice.

 

He'd do better with the children, so that was where he went. They were walking slower than the women and the men; crossing the planks that bridged the gap between the ships was difficult. There was one little girl who was staying next to a bunch of crates left at the side by the plank as the pirates transported them over. The same one who'd been stopped; she looked up once Cain neared, eyes taking in his features without the muzzle. He didn't know if he looked scarier to her, but she simply looked back down. He crouched down, peering at her face. Cheeks gaunt where they had once been round. Eyes blue like the sky.

 

"Come on," he said, quietly, and offered his hand.

 

He was fine with children, but it was the silence that concerned him. He was used to them talking, used to being able to get a read. Her small shoulders hunched. He followed her gaze to the group of slavers; they were tied up, surrounded by one or two pirate guards. It looked like she was unsure of that. He had dreamed of it, breaking their necks and tossing them overboard, but it'd been more of a result out of the stress and the mounting fury of nightmares. It would be no problem to go now to do so.

 

Instead, he said, "If you cross now, they won't find out that you've stolen the biggest treasure from right under their noses." Never mind the lie she had told to the first one. He watched her hands tighten around the small medallion, worthy likely a pretty penny, and her eyes met his. If they didn't move soon, Cain knew that the hot-tempered brat of a Captain would spot them, wondering. And with that eye as sharp as his, he didn't doubt that he'd be more than willing to take something worth a new ship.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[Katla]

After finishing just about half of the rum bottle, Takeshi was feeling much better. Despite not being drunk or anything of the likes - he still felt like his bad mood had been lifted off his shoulders (for now) and he felt very confident to stalk out of there and finish this business that was left to be tended to. There were slavers to be taken care of and a ship that needed to be burnt. Then he could take his cargo and leave. The slaves would be set off at some random port that was close to them - and everything would go back to the good old usual ways. He piled the bottles into a bag, grabbed the gold pouch and the rest of the small items he had found and placed them also into the same bag, before leaving the captain's quarters without a second glance behind him. His gaze quickly found Luke, who was busy ordering people around, and with a smile Takeshi headed towards his friend - whom instead starting frowning and eyeing the bag that the captain held.

 

"I reckon that stupid grin o'yours means you won the bet?"

 

"Not really, but I got some nice rum."

 

Luke's greedy gaze fell again onto the bag that Takeshi held tightly at his side. It was a wonder that the older man didn't make grabby hand gestures towards the bottles, so intense was his gaze.

 

"Say, how 'bout I let that wager drop and instead ye give me a bottle or two?"

 

"Weeell, first we gotta see if I won or not. Not fair if I gotta give good rum to someone that lost a bet."

 

Takeshi swung the bag around before he looked over the ship's deck. Luke's eyes followed the bag's movements like a cat's eyes would follow a moving prey.

 

"Where did that guy go?"

 

"Went to help out, I believe. Not too bad of a guy."

 

Takeshi's glare said all that needed to be said.

 

"Well we should hurry on. Take care of the slavers and burn this ship. I'll be leaving ahead. Need to store the rum. Just... wait until the children have left before you kill them."

 

The redheaded friend of his nodded, looked with a hungry expression towards the bag one more time, and then pulled his sword free from the sheath at his waist. Execution wasn't something that Takeshi particularly enjoyed, but he had to set an example. He'd not let a single slaver go free, that was his motto - his code. It was also one of the things that made him seem more pirate and not a complete weakling. So he closed his mind to the way the men asked for mercy since they seemed to know just what exactly was in store for them. Despite his heart not being made of stone, he still couldn't feel much pity for the men though. Who knew what they had done to the slaves, what they had done even before this encounter. Anyone who condoned such a thing as selling and treating people like filth deserved to die. At least Takeshi was a bit honest in his ... dishonest ways.

 

His step was light as he neared the planks, but his mood started to darken as he spotted the strong back of one insolent whelp that seemed to have been born just to piss people off. His eyebrow twitched slightly as he stormed forward, but paused when he noticed the small girl that was in front of the slave. He seemed to be offering her help to cross the planks, but Takeshi's earlier grudge was set on having him think the worst of that man. What, is he going to abuse that little girl? I wouldn't be surprised. He looks like scum after all. He advanced closer to the two of them, and noticed instantly a glint of fear in that girl's eyes as he approached them. She was a poor excuse of a human being - obviously not having fared any better than the rest of the slaves, but there seemed to be a small glint of something strong within those eyes of hers. Takeshi could only hope that she'd be able to turn things around in her life, instead of ending like so many others: Either turning into a drug addicted scum or a whore. It was too easy to break the human spirit, after all.

 

"Are you alright? You should hurry up and catch up with the others. We have to leave soon.

 

His voice was a tad bit softer than when he had been speaking earlier with the other men and with that man that stood at his side right now. The one that he really wanted to kick again. He refrained from looking at the slave, since he knew that the only thing that would happen was either a glaring contest or that he'd actually allow himself to attack the other man. His one working eye instead traced over the girl's petite form and stopped for a moment at her clutching arms. She was obviously hiding something, and he couldn't help but wonder what it was.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

"Aren't you being nice," Cain muttered, but it was clear that he was being ignored. He hadn't even gotten a second glance. He would have felt hurt if he'd been more emotionally invested, though a part of him found this bizarre. First glaring, and then ignoring. This didn't follow rules, unless those rules were about being petty and inconsistent.

 

If she'd been older, Cain would have just left her to face the captain on his own, leaving with the biting remark of, I did offer. Self-preservation did work that way, and Cain really didn't want to be around for when the order to not harm the slaves was rescinded. He found he was liking breathing without a muzzle the more than he was doing it. But she wasn't older; she was young. Dragged into a place and situation that made grown men more than a decade older than her piss their pants in fear, she didn't need to be left alone now. This always happens, he thought. Cain could never leave them to fend for themselves. He wasn't sure if he disliked it, exactly, and if how her body was leaning towards his direction, perhaps she trusted him more than she did the pirate.

 

What was interesting, and what anyone should've been more concerned with was the sudden appearance of the pirate captain, and the fact he seemed very interested in what it was that she had to hide. He certainly did look intimidating; one eye peeking out while the other was wrapped in bandages, a bag tossed over his shoulder. Cain bore his gaze into her, compelling her to answer even as she looked at him. It wasn't really in his place to speak for her. Eventually, she understood, if how she swallowed was any indicator, especially how she needed to answer. She looked at the captain, hands tightening until her knuckles were white, and took a deep breath.

 

"I'm...fine, sir," she murmured, after a moment. Cain was surprised by the resolution in her voice, as much as it quavered. "Seasick. But I will. I'll go now." She got up on unsteady legs--they shook--arms still wrapped around the medallion. Resembling more of a newborn deer than a child for her legs, but someone with clutching something with her arms, she certainly looked a combination of suspicious and pitiful. If the man beside Cain was soft-hearted, he'd let her go. If he was curious, well.

 

A sudden wave rocked the boat violently, and she tumbled. Cain caught her, and his hand pressed over her fist--hiding the treasure before it could even so much as peek out in between her small fingers. His expression didn't change, but he could feel her tension in her body in the several seconds before she caught her footing, other hand grasping itself around his forearm. Cain didn't know why she was so hell-bent on the medallion: a treasure was a treasure, never mind the fact that nobody would see one of that value for a very long time.

 

"Should I carry you?" Cain asked. He ignored the man beside him--no use goading him, not when Cain could really hardly give a shit. Something told him, on the other hand, the other man wouldn't take well to that. Was it instinct?

 

She'd answered the initial question, which was all Cain could be bothered to care about. She didn't answer verbally, but she did press herself closer, so he hefted her onto his knee, and then stood up. He held her a bit unconventionally, yes. At the same time, what caused him to pause was the realization that she was frighteningly light. One arm was enough to hold her, his hand tucked under her knees.

 

"You want to be picked up too?" Cain drawled, at the Captain who still remained. "See what it's like to be a little taller?"

[Katla]

It was difficult to ignore someone you disliked. Takeshi felt like he noticed the other man more and more the longer he tried to ignore him. What was mostly keeping him still at this point was the fact that he was waiting for the girl to answer his question. It was very plain to see that she was hiding something that she certainly did not want him to see, but she finally did answer him. A lie. He didn't change his expression, even if his eye looked a bit closer at the little child. So be it. He'd let her go for now at least. Take a leap of faith and hope that she wasn't hiding something dangerous. His lips parted as he was about to tell her to take care - but he shut his mouth as the massive body of the ship moved underneath his feet. The little girl stumbled, but right there to catch her was the hulking man that used to have a muzzle covering most of his face.

 

The question and whole gesture of him confused Takeshi. He had honestly thought that the other male was a jerk. A natural born idiot that would be a jerk to everybody around him. But apparently he was good with children, as the girl didn't seem to object at all to him holding her. So, he gets a vote of confidence but she seems to dislike me. That's what my profession gets me. His expression had softened just a bit as he watched this strange display unfold before his eye, but then that annoying slave looked at him. For a split second, Takeshi thought to himself that the other male was actually better looking than he had thought at first, now that the muzzle was gone. And perhaps he wasn't as bad as- ... and that was the moment when the other male actually had the guts to ask if he should carry him as well. The pirate captain's eye narrowed into a slit as a red color of anger flushed over his cheeks and ended up at the tips of his ears.

 

That was it.

 

In one single fluid movement, the pirate captain moved. He used it to his advantage that his body and overall balance were well adjusted to the unruly ocean that kept rocking the ship from side to side. He hoped that the slave was more haggard than he actually looked, so that his reaction time would be slowed down. He also relied a lot on his own speed and flexibility as he sought to catch the other man off guard with this movement of his. The bag was dropped down and with steady hands, he reached forward at the speed of a striking snake - caught a hold of the girl and at the same time raised his right leg and delivered a hefty kick into the slave's stomach. If his kick would indeed hit its target properly, he would send Cain flying down into the ocean as they had been standing somewhat close to the edge of the deck. If that would indeed happen, he'd place the girl firmly down onto the deck of the ship before glaring down at the ocean where the other male had landed - before calling out to Luke to fish up that pathetic excuse of a human being before he'd drown or swim off.

 

With that being said, Takeshi would grab the bag again, storm off and walk over the plank to enter his own ship, take a good look over the surroundings to make sure that everything was properly taken care off - before he'd walk into his captain's quarters and close the door behind him. Very well aware that everyone had seen what had just happened. Good. Maybe the rest of the slaves will think twice about saying shit to me then. Inside, he'd slam his fist against the wooden pillar next to the door - whilst swearing silently to himself. He had wanted to kill that man, but decided against it. Why? He didn't even know. Even when his anger was boiling within his gut and his head, he had let that bastard live (well if he'd not sink like a stone and drown). Whilst still mumbling curses to himself, he placed the bag down onto his desk and sat down in his chair with a heavy sigh. The day was still young, but he felt very exhausted after this short encounter with that sharp-eyed slave.

 

Meanwhile, Luke had thrown a life-line down to Cain in hopes of catching him before reeling him up onto the deck of the ship. And of course the red headed pirate was laughing so loud and so hard that he had troubles actually holding onto the rope.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

Luke was laughing his ass off, even as he helped Cain up and back on the ship, like the sight of Cain's half-drowned body was the funniest thing he'd ever seen as a pirate. Obviously, a man after Cain's heart. Had Cain not been on the other end of it, submerged in freezing cold water and swallowing a lungful of a wave when the lifeline had smacked him clean in the face before he could process what it was, he would've done the same thing.

 

Still.

 

"I behaved," was the first thing Cain insisted (shouted?), as soon as he stopped spitting and coughing out sea water on the deck. If his voice had been raspy before, just speaking the words burned his dried up throat. Cain's hair was practically a sopping mess stuck to his face that he shoved hazardously off his eyes. And he had, honestly. It'd just been a question to get the Captain to leave.

 

It was hard to stay angry though, when Luke looked like his birthday had come early; it made Cain's incredulity at what he considered an overreaction turn into a laugh. And then he was joining. "He doesn't like talking about his height?" he asked, but part of him couldn't help but think that pettiness and self-consciousness about heights of all things suddenly explained all of the animousity. It was almost cute.

 

"Is that...normal? For pirates to do that?"

 

It wasn't until she spoke that Cain remembered that the little girl was still here. One thing was on the petty Captain's side; he'd at least put her down before he'd decided to put what was going to feel like a very dark bruise over Cain's stomach. She wasn't asking Cain, even if she was crouched next to him. She didn't look nervous or scared anymore. She just looked...curious, and she was waiting for Luke's answer.

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[Katla]

Luke's stomach muscles were aching when he finally managed to stop the laughter. His jaws and face were sore as well and he felt like he almost had to sit down. His work worn hands wiped tears from his red face as he gasped out for a breath. Well that had certainly made the day much merrier and more fun. He should have known that his captain wouldn't be able to keep his temper at bay for much longer, especially when around a guy like this slave that didn't seem to be able to hold his mouth shut for five minutes at a time. Honestly, it was a wonder that such a long moment had passed before either one of them had landed in the ocean.

 

"Ye'd be right 'bout that. Despite not bein' a short fella, he still hates that topic. Like the plague itself. And ye o'course managed to stumble right into the danger zone. Haven' laughed so hard in years! If ye wish to avoid being dipped in the sea another time, ye should best keep out of his way for a while. Me captain has a temper, that he does. And he knows how t'hold grudges."

 

The man wheezed out a long breath. Then looked at Cain whom was standing there looking like a drowned rat, and a chuckle escaped his lips once more before he shook his head and dropped the net and ropes he had used to haul Cain into the ship again with. Despite their tense beginning earlier that day, then the first mate of The Lost Treasure had a good feeling about that guy. Perhaps if he could convince the captain to let that man join the crew, then Luke would be set for a few years at least with a good laughing material - since honestly he did not expect the two men to stop bickering any time soon. He should have, of course, been more stern and scolded that slave about disrespecting the captain once more ... buuuut Luke had never been the strict or uptight type. Unless of course when his captain was right in front of him.

 

A small voice reached his ears just as he was about to mention something of the sort to the slave. The burly redhead looked down at the girl in question, and a smile that seemed too gentle for that man made his beard twitch and his eyes look downright warm.

 

"Why little thing, we are a different brand of pirates. Here we don't kill each other, but rather throw each other into the ocean for a little cooling off. Don' worry 'bout our captain, he's a good man. Jus' never talk 'bout heights with him, or you'll look like that fella over there."

 

He winked at the girl and pointed towards the drenched Cain.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

The girl looked at Cain, then Luke, and then back at Cain, as though trying to convince herself whether or not this was a joke. She wasn't shaking anymore, which meant at some point, she thought Luke was a good guy. He had personally pulled Cain out of the ocean, after all.

 

The shock was beginning to kick in; that, and the water had been freezing. Cain had been maintaining himself on his legs, but now he felt like he was ready to sit down. He leaned back against the side of the boat, and abruptly slid down.

 

"Are you going to get thrown in the ocean again if the captain sees you?" the girl asked Cain worriedly. Definitely a kid. She was at that age where she could be convinced to believe in Luke's definition of so-called pirates. Cain could have been convinced if the shorter man hadn't almost killed him. The only bonus to come out of this was that Cain probably smelled more of seawater than he did in the holding quarters.

 

Cain rubbed a calloused hand over his stomach before his hand dropped. "Not sure if I'll handle another kick," he said. "Luke, what are the chances that I meet your Captain on a bad day?"

[Katla]

There was one thing to be said about that man in front of him, and that was the fact that he smelled way better now after a good dipping in the ocean. Perhaps they should throw all the slaves into the deep blue and then fish them out again. It'd save a lot of time and water on board the Lost Treasure. Although I doubt me captain would agree to it. The red haired man grinned from ear to ear at the question thrown his way. He was also fairly pleased about how the girl seemed to be cheering up, even if she probably didn't quite trust the pirates yet. The poor little thing didn't look half dead anymore but there was a little sparkle within her eyes. Kids were surprisingly tough after all. But surely, this lively slave in front of him was up for the time of his life on the pirate ship now that he had managed to ruffle the captain up so much. It was just a matter of time before the two of them would be at each other's throats again, and perhaps Luke wouldn't be there to fish anyone out of the ocean... He stroked his beard, before spitting and chuckling.

 

"Weeell, considering everything that has happened this very day, I'd say ye are a walking proof of a 'bad day' for me captain. So tall and menacing, and with a mouth ye can't keep quiet. Aye, things will be getting very amusing on board the ship."

 

After having said that, the man knew he should be getting on to the business at hand. There was no question about that he'd probably fly into the ocean next if he would dally any further. So with a gentle smile to the girl and a nudge of his boot at the slave, he'd usher them towards the Lost Treasure.

 

"Well, get on board both of ye. I've got some business to tend to here before I light this damned vessel up and send it straight to the bottom of the ocean."

 

He glanced towards the captive slavers, and was pretty sure that the slave in front of him would understand the gesture and get the girl out of there before things would get a bit ugly.

 

"If ye go below deck you will find food an' water. And there'll be no captain' down there. But if ye miss him terrible, then ye can always go knockin' on his door."

 

The laughter was gurgling deep in his chest. He had no doubt that the slave would rather swim ashore than have to meet the temperamental captain for the second time this day.

 

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.

[NightAir]

"I'll miss your Captain when I miss the bruises." Cain snorted despite himself at the idea that he'd want to get involved with the Captain again, and then grimaced. His throat was drier than a desert from all the salt water he'd ended up swallowing. He wouldn't have said no to recharging, refilling--everything that had been opposite their life in the slaver's hold was more than enough incentive for him.

 

Still: his mind flitted back to the anger in that single eye, and he wondered for a moment about the second one, kept under the bandages. Whether or not it was still intact and whole, however, was another story. Whether or not the wound under them made his face look as pretty as his temper. Cain supposed he'd find that out when several more purple bruises would layer up on his body.

 

It wasn't the time; Cain brushed the thought away. Luke had his job to do, anyway, and despite the fact that Cain would've gladly paid the price to be a spectator with a heavy flagon of alcohol, this was really no place for a child. She looked unsteady on her feet for all those days she'd been half-starving and frightened out of her wits, though she managed a bigger smile at Luke's own.

 

With an effort, Cain pushed himself onto his haunches, and then pushed himself to stand up. The girl jumped--evidently she'd thought he'd have stayed a little longer like that--but she didn't wander, her eyes steady on him when he chanced a look at her. Since he didn't collapse, he deemed himself passable as well. Days, it'd been, since he'd been out on deck before today, and the lack of adrenaline in his veins, the lack of danger that prompted him to be more than casually aware of surroundings--it was enough to make a man tired.

 

"Come on, then," he said, to the girl. She looked confused about what he meant before he held out his hand to her. Cain had done odd jobs here and there when he hadn't grown up thieving. Animals needed patience. "You'll want food, yeah?"

 

She nodded, slipping her hand into his after a moment. Cain gave Luke a passing nod and led her to the edge of the boat where the cargo had been moved and there was nothing left for it but the final plank.

 

They crossed with little to no issue, and made it down the deck--well lit, people thronging on benches and benches, with food and drink. Cain paused and took a look around, trying to find an empty space. It was easy to see where the slaves were. They were huddled, quiet, still tensed like they were expecting betrayal but relaxed enough to prove their willingness to believe in the slight hope. The pirates were the noisier ones, hollering back and forth to each other, and making their way up and down the deck stairs.

 

The atmosphere didn't stop the healthy appetites that Cain could see: days spent hungry, spent sick meant nothing now there was good food. Cain led the girl to a spot where it looked like there was room enough for her to sit. None for Cain--but he'd manage--except she didn't sit, just looked at him.

 

He caught the hint. "Move," he ordered, not caring, there was some shuffling before there was enough room for her to sit normally and him to sit at the edge of the bench, one leg swung under the table, and the other on the outside.

 

Moments later, a plate full of food was shoved in their direction, along with some utensils. Some kind of vegetable slop. Cain's mouth watered.

 

"What about-?" the girl asked, suddenly, when Cain stabbed a spoon in and began to dig in.

 

Cain didn't stop for a beat. His stomach growled, and he was reminded of how hungry he'd been. "He'll be fine. He'll eat."

 

"What about the Captain?" she asked.

 

Cain was prepared to not even think about him. There was a saying: speak of the devil and he shall appear. He grunted. She took the hint, and they began to eat.

Please Register/ Sign In, in order to see the links.