There's a troublesome sail out there by being underneath it ...that last choice of retreat.
You'll relearn what it means to know a sea truly free n' live anew,
T' Be;
Me & Ever-Complete.
Ft. @shadragonheart & @layla-grey For exceptionally trusting me in the handle of their characters or being alongside in writing arcs, and aiming to make this story an epic feat, worthy of the best of em'.
Credit to @under-the-blood-moonlight for a considerable amount of help getting proper designs for Captain and MoXXi alongside official emblem. One of the greatest people to get commissioned, I'll never not recommend! Especially a revered friend to me. Thank you, for being you.
Same can be said too about @meepsthemiqo for handling all my stuff and sharing and being there your kindness and power is eternal.
Extend this; to all those who followed, been on this voyage, supported me in the ups and down, whether silence, or loud, lurking, or been a view of beautiful inspiration that continuously steer me away from the dark.
Even detractors or cool villains, you're vibes worth knowing. Stay bricked up. ✊
You're worlds, and stories, I'm glad, I found.
Squirmed digits adorning a tattered-grim-soaked sanguine cloth, crimson dripping from the utterly defeated and shaken Captain suffering from his darkest day fore now.
Feline ears rang sharply, sweat and tears with blood’s inclusion more thicker mixed into combination upon forehead nestle, stowed away on his retreating sea-vessel on the run from pursuing savages that have declared annihilation, turned his life and the association of anyone in his orbit as nothing more than a playful murderous game, his palms further proved, stained with the deepest red from an irreplaceable life dismembered and packaged.
A fresh pectoral mark of slavery left branded on flesh burned as a reminder only quelled by a psychological breakage unraveling, awaiting to determine his humaneness. Every instinct flaring up to retaliate, blood for blood and overall translation; freedom, but doing so meant every progression ever made, all the enjoyment of every sight of color that he relished to treasure in this realm, his world, would become an unholy sight of only ever crimson red going forth.
His leg’s trembling still in horrified fear after confronting the worst. Thinking he could rescue his abducted Crewmates safely, stealthily slip through the barriers of a Nation bred on sinking their teeth in all.
Two pairs of silhouettes outside his cabin’s door and drew inside, a roughed up, latterly beaten and bruised, a tortured Judas who had shown signs of haggard too, donning a old tunic and overgrown mangled hair from his captivity. Only person, Captain managed to get out of there from his Crew alive. Alongside Sinbad the Young, who caused these events to take place, attempting to swindle out a dangerous Crew from their believed, owes.
All of these three fellows, branded in connection, tracked and given an expiration date with their runic markings that almost were identical to a curse, approximately one summer, to slay their common handler.
...Yet that foe was practically inconceivable to even bring to thought their demise. An unmatched Giant, the proclaimed, All-Father of Scourges, YORE of the Gorey Seas was what they’d have to defeat.
There laid many mythos, legends, pirate omens and warnings everyone was to know better to kneel. Infamously said to have collected a bounty so massive, and lethal that due to having so many casualties was removed for the safety of adventurists or self-acclaimed Warriors, having themselves gruesomely humbled, brutally slaughtered and displayed with their decapitated heads piked, trophies all over the border of his Nation of warning and unmatched display of dominance. The outer-banks of the Isle, laid an unfiltered section of gory red, murky, cadavers left rotting and floating to further cause deterrence; practically an Isle bleeding.
It's foretold, with all the perfections and flawlessness that spawned from mortals to their believed Kami’s, Twelves, lowly Primals, they worshiped so dearly, that in order for this realm to continue to coexist with its consistent ideology of balance in all outlets from astral to umbral, forces of positive and negative, that polarity conditions must be managed, unequal force was needed to be curated carrying the most impurities, sins, ugliness into a Necessity all gathered, a giant amalgamation formed ripping through his progenitress's womb gruesomely upon conception.
His carnage and terror garnered throughout seas to such an extent, exiled fierce tribal members from Dorthals and "deemed" almighty races, deemed exclusive to only superior touted for their overwhelming ferocity, which drew in the interest to gather in a force of an Era, built to conquer unequivocally. Forming their own language, culture, walk.
Early members of their Nation, OMONGA, in mere youth and meek, primitive naturally raised and survivalist, were thrown in tribunal arena, left to fend against a selected savage wild beast dependent by their Blind Prophet who unveiled visions, these migrated or native creatures were riled up to purposely be enraged, given dangerous experimental, chemical enhancements and abused, to make their Tribunal Predator as lethally fearsome as possible. If they managed to survive and slay, they would then have their aetherial compounds and aspect, become ritualistically Imprinted, following and mimicking the prowess of their selected savage carrying on and embodying their trophy hunt in their putrid forms molded. Brandish to carry the legacy of ruthless designs.
From Captain’s very adolescence in the Goldbrand his surrogate Father and Founding Captain, told both Sol and Kuro, countless and endlessly, reality. That unbelievable power lurked. Tread ever watchfully while the promise of golden Freedom had boundless fortune to attain, there's steep costs, prices of Blood came before, lines that couldn’t be sailed, waves that should-not-ever be challenged.
Shallow waters too massive for them to ever think feet could contend against.
Upon Captain's encounter confronting YORE that led to this pitiful state he was paralyzed in. That-Which-Stood-The-Tallest; mercilessly, callously, revealed, The Goldbrand was created by that very monster, a sub-crew composed of slaves, who only were made to collect treasure for servitude and borrowed prosperity; hence the namesake...
Entire time, the sail he casually followed believing his Founder’s invention and groomed beliefs instilled, carrying prideful merit, was no more than inheriting the mantle of awaiting Scarlet Destined slavery a facade existence he bore.
Leashed prey tasked to find shiny objects like collected unwanted mutts and dispose in moments of desire for that is the truth of all things. The mightiest biggest reaped and ensured their bellies fed plump. Revelations unfolded these Predators of YORE’s Elite thrived in a Crew identically dubbed, the Bloodbrand coexisted.
A fuming, huffing puffing Highlander couldn’t believe the distraught or unpleasant sight of a once bold Captain finally confronted with the very first time he could say, Kuro was truly afraid. From witnessing countless deaths, otherworldly sights, to acquiring scars of incredible marvel proportions, to challenging inside the realms of the Void and bleak, obscurity to often drowning in the Presences of higher deities, or uncertain depths, none, none of them held a seemingly notion of fret from the brazen Seeker who paraded around with a feverish recklessness abandoned, but everyone, and all. Has a predator out there that's a designated devour, a force stronger that instinctively alone makes their rattling bones quiver to petrified liquid.
Truthfully Sinbad's inner-issues were self-reflected, masked as fellow billowing rage, for his own self-blame for causing this situation, but couldn’t take accountability due to atrocious Pride. His Crew were all eradicated of his own Captaineering while he licked and nursed his wounds helplessly and barked through tinted-ego, drunk on his fleeting moment of success he became drunk despite once heralding his straight-edge lifestyle. However consequences have been delivered, his loved-fiance suffered mutilation from being captive, only rescued from Solaire’s daring rescue.
Branded despite all that over showing muscularity being painfully useless, shown unrivaled, MIGHT unlike his facade brawn. Forbidden, cursed, from ever hearing his heart speak fluently with her severed tongue. His entire manly existence is barred ever transparently, everything he gloated, herald over the Seeker now was his own fated string.
Chewing inward on his cheek, “Well? Going to pack up here, sulk and wait to get butchered? We takin’ this on the chin? Without giving our own, huh?! Nah, fuck that. I refuse! They TOOK FROM US! They’re OWED to have everything ripped whether I have you two join me or not, I don’t give a soddin' damn, I'll ignite my remaining flesh just to make them taste hell incarnate.” Captain continued mute, rolled into like a ball; defeated. Muttering to himself with lunacy. Cradling tighter to his chest the severed appendage head of the fallen.
“Can nothing get through to him?! Pick yourself up, stand up for fucksake.” Intolerantly getting more aggressive the bulky Highlander showing temper these two were the only people who commonly could fight. Any moment now their ship would be raided by their pursuers, they were given a head start, with playfulness and pity by their captors, wanting to have a thrilling hunt, to get them rushing, none of OMONGA cared for anything but the sheer thirst battle offered or an opportune war, blood, this was their orgasmic greed they sated.
The once Princely First demeanor shielded his Captain, “Lay off! Reminder, this would’ve never happened if not for you! YOU caused this. You’re looking to project the last ounce of ‘esteemed’ manhood you may have, but it’s so blatantly obvious, you’re in shambles too. Stop the farce, end your festering ego. …Or do you need a reminder? If it wasn't for Captain and his perished one, we would’ve never gotten this far. We’ve got five alive on this ship, three were their recently jailed slav-” Lashing the Brute, grappled Judas by his collar and uprooted him from the floor and tossed him with anger against the wall, his temper and nostrils flaring and breathing heavily, the outburst was fleeting but he couldn’t look at Judas forwardly. His cheeks left wet streaks of hard knowing… It was correct. He lowered the Midlander onto his soles with a gentler approach, “...I-I’m sorry.” Another showing of fear displayed.
Was beyond extraordinary to see how Judas handled himself compared to the other two, forcing himself to be level-headed and prevent sink in any discomfort, always a master and manipulator of his own emotions. Despite being perhaps the one who was titled the Cowardice Prince. He comprehended the gravity of everything.
The First-Mate exhaled, “You’re right about something, we have to fight if we wish to survive. Even if we cannot beat all their numbers, we’ll at-least dent them, I’m not against drawing whatever vitality I may have. So I’ll join you, Sinbad. We can start by fortifying and making preparations. I advise rushing to set whatever advantages we can and have others hide in the brigs and wait to escape in the chaos through the cannon-windows creases, being divergence could be a solid honorable way to die. If anything Captain, if you can hear me, take the emergency rowboat with them, I can’t thank you enough for coming back for me and Casta. Told you, I’d be that wind.” Last words, laid out in heartfelt and a jolly smile, echo the memory of that handshake they exchanged, remaining light before taking haste.
Captain left as it started, alone in darkness.
Sleep-deprived, eyelids closed momentarily, deeply, a decision was begged for answering.
[Prev:Chapter]: ( --- X --- ) ~ ♪"And The Sky Turned Black..."♪
Reference ~ No Future ~ ♪"Moje More"♪
Gathering of black-donned Crew gathered around a small row boat. Coffin and flowers scattered in array alongside a Tricorne placed toppled delicately, with a picture-frame of a departed. Awaiting pyre and send-off into the open seas.
First to speak was a Sea Maiden, and Counselor, Slafhota, whose hands clung together to keep from shaking holding a steep-burden. Prayers left to shambles. “He came to me in need. Seeking help, believing he was the biggest-screw up this realm has ever seen. But the-fact is his feet braved, open to my waters. He demonstrated conviction most wouldn’t achieve. Especially a pirate-nonetheless… I failed him. The depths of my words didn’t reach in-time.” Empathy writhed upon her visage, her shoulder gently tapped and escorted.
Changing positions. The Wildwood, Zieton, took the stage. “Didn’t care about the heady-pirate at-first. Loud, often obnoxiously-so, crude and boisterously-confident. But you couldn’t change-or-shake the fact at his core. He was genuine, it was obvious, wanting to remove people from misfortune. He would’ve gone to any-lengths to achieve that. Acquiring the world’s burden to retrieve.” Despite his rather-cool demeanor compared to others. His voice-quaked rivers, “My faith soon became… Was the desire, towards seeing him succeed.” Pushed off from the center, a commotion-irritated Raen, Sol ‘Nan’ Akami forged his way.
A ruckus darted-forth, broken-pitch quivering in a bark. Held back by two-other burly men, “Y-You cheeky feline-rat! Damn you!! I won’t forgive this! For leaving me the only survivor! YOU COWARD! WHO'S GONNA BE RESTORATION TO MY DESTRUCTION? I-I CAN’T RULE THE SEAS WITHOUT YOU!” Despite being once a deadly-foe and former enemy, he was broken-heart, that toughness and his often-jokester personality was removed. This was a brother’s grief. Even if not spoken-soon enough or heard in return often, it couldn’t sway their place from another. Fetching his pistol from holster, wanted to shoot that smug-face of the Seeker. But was deterred-away and seized from it, carried off.
Small-lalafell, Me-Me, walked in replacement. “Mr.Hat was cool. I liked playing with him and pulling lots of pranks! Although he seemed angry with me a lot, I never felt like I wasn’t welcome and that’s something which made me really happy.” Talking more simply before rushing off to never show-glimpses of her sorrow. She was often the touted-indomitable demon no one could conceive or fathom.
Giant-burly, Hellsguard stomped the ground, dragging feet. Intense-fire often consumed him, now tears streaming down which doused him internally. “...I was fine living my peace, retreated from all. Never again knowing what glory would taste-like. Gave up on my ambition never knowing what I could achieve that’d make me feel-complete. Believing I could defeat-any adversity too easily. Then a broken-armed pirate showed up, kicking my door open and stepped on my cooked feast! Telling me so effortlessly, “Old-man, we’re going on a journey!” That brat-of-a-kid… Took me from my holed-in-solitude and forced me out to experiences. I-thought extinguished! …As I began sailing with you-lot, I started understanding what it means again, live-to-see. He made a believer-in-me and I will carry his dream for me with remaining eternity. With honor… To become a King among the Living. I see it now, that meaning… It’s the only King without a crown required, or throne and validation needed. You become it by simply being, and all your fellows, are your subordinates worthy to seize, there are truly no-enemies when freed.” Placing a hand-on-his-heart and burning against flesh, making an impactful scar of Captain’s memory. Symbolically carrying, fire of the deceased but more importantly… The Will.
Casta who wrote his stories up to now and escapades, charting his Tales as a diary. She stumbled and couldn’t deter from whimpering. Taking moments before, “Long-ago, he saved me as a little-girl. I was enslaved, by a violent-father, at-least for what he bought me as. Yet Captain relinquished me, Brought me into the home-environment of another family altogether. He changed my life-around instantly. Became inspired, and so I wrote. Swore, I’d repay him! A hero-unsung for all to read… I studied-medical and medicinal means to bring relief like he did to a young-broken unguided soul. I helped his kind out, the pirates, crooks, outcasts, the one’s often shunned away because of their appearance. Who are we, to discriminate against what someone’s cover is? Doesn’t seem to be valid. The pages-written behind the cover, typically resides the part that matters. Summers-later. We convened by happenstance, fate-string tugged our way.” She changed-attitude becoming cheerful and happy recounting.
“I got to meet him again! To mend to the best of my abilities. But in-the-end I couldn’t relieve him of great-injuries. Hurt to see him linger, pain stricken. …More than you could know. After-what-happened, I didn’t see myself anymore being useful, I sank below. Yet, always greets people with a infectious-smile. Telling me, “Casta, it’s because ye b’ th’ most human, is what reminds all ov’ us monsters or otherwise, what to still-be.” And suddenly I-felt again uplifted and at peace. E-Everytime! Everytime, I almost wanted to give-up on myself or this life. He took my wrists gently, the handsome rogue jumped in after me either in shallow-infested or shark-filled waters! EVERYTIME. Until, I couldn’t do anything left, but finally, see what he saw. My own-irreplaceable-worth. There’s no one-like that level of heroic-deed— only fantasy. Wouldn’t ever think he was capable-of-that, he was always going to surprise you.” Again her emotions-changed like thunder, now fury took over. First-time she spoke-loudly, and up for her-self or another, she used to be the most silent-timid. Now she had become a lioness for preserved memory.
“It’s unfair Thal’s balls! Why are the one’s born in Twelve’s favor or God’s boon, get every recognition, praise, but first-ones to retreat from history?! Why are they the ones remembered for legendary acts but one’s who’ve been here every-day Sun to Moon with every single-breath they are making our life-flourish forth, civilizations ushering, by giving new generations education, hand-outs in their most timely-need, not given the same?” Her fist-sledgehammered down on the podium. “You were the best of them. My sailor hero!” She left with anguished remorse gritting teeth.
The arranging-voices heard so far and the imprint placed. The departed-soul managed to imprint on them that made their nature’s be thwarted.
Unlikely a Noble, Lord Shiro Elune, of pristine-white but with a black-flower on his suit, drew up with elegance bearing all-the-markings of regality. “We were sworn-beings always at odds. I massacred his Crew when we first-met, afterall. He couldn’t overcome our gaps and the league of power I had over him. He was flawed. From ideologies, stances, ethics. The scoundrel was determined more than any I ever met. He opposed anything with boldness, a charismatic charm that made you want to cheer for him. A showman. Spotlight that he shared with, overtime... You would-recognize; against any dismay. Among history, perhaps, the greatest failure. But because of that, is why many could-identify themselves with him, whether they wished, or knew not…”
He showed-a-former, scoff of superiority, “P-fft wasn’t anyway, I could be factored in with the everyday and mundane… You all reeked with insecurities, you’re all leeches, parasites, complain and whimper about what you were born-with or not, making excuses as handicaps. Yet when I visited you in the Brumes, or your piss-covered environments, your legs-unmoved, all-you-walk, as if-you're-not losers! Hand-outs are what most of you commoners want fed. You dream-too-big, too vastly that it taints and pollutes all you come in-contact with. You demand-validation from your peers; despite knowing it’s an echo-chamber and your sentimental words and beliefs, ushering so foolishly, brazenly, you’re certain of yourselves among that group of fellow-collected sheep's! Listen, you'll never-amount to anything or anyone truthfully! Imbeciles, you cannot-deter history! You cannot change Hierarchy or Order! No matter how free you are. You aren’t saints, protagonists of stories, or Warriors of Light nor of Night, exceptionally never will-be anything but fodder for the ones who rule iron-supreme.” At this point-everyone attending booed demanding him-off stage and was irritated at this pompous Keeper who distinguished himself-above so highly.
“...However.” A twist was coming as the mob-was-overwhelmingly on the verge of rioting at a most unholy-timing.
Clear and loud with authority. “I will admit my former notion was this; once a time. Yet this heathen behind, single-handedly changed all-these thoughts of certainties and brought questions back to them!”
The crowd stopped, dumbfounded. Hanging on every-word this Noble Lord demonstrated. “Yes. Indeed I’d consider him no-longer an enemy. Although, I won our encounters often. He had defeated me too without being seen. Changing-my-perception. I acted impulsively, dishonored duels, acted on arrogant-egotistical-means I harbored and sheltered as deceitful pride. I thought, everything I did was-justifiably, fact. Groomed to be-placed above an echelon, higher-than-all who sees. But I fell from grace, my fiance and child even forsake my name upon their lips. When I failed these-ways, I had no idea how to handle it… That accursed-man with a golden crest, oh, he knew… He always knew, fought against my sake or for it, inconceivably! Now I stand upon this wake. I say! Honor him greatly and openly. You’ve proven, Noble, friend.” The regal-man did the unthinkable act. Others wouldn’t believe it. Taking a kneel before the burial-site. Lowering his head-to-ground level. Relinquishing his former-rapier that shared connection between the-two souls and beneath the Tricorne hat-of-the-former wielder.
Thought and believed, Forever Destined.
Tears-bellowed out from the crowd, moved once again.
Diamond-encrusted tear crystals fell from the eyelids of the Keeper.
Further attenders close to the departed gave their speeches. Until the last Crewmate was brought up, Judas Caesar the First Crewmate who had deep-personal history off-and-on, back and forth chemistry.
Tear-stained-eyes, looking once again like a battered-prince, who lost his entire-Kingdom. "...I" He couldn't get any words to wind.
Despite owning that affinity.
You could-practically hear a heart-pitch whining from his throat.
"I-loved him. Wish I got a chance to say it, more things, left to the endless space. ...There was-no one else, I felt that strongly about, a soul-mate of the seas, could really only say. Promised me we'd get to my destination of my former-origins so-early on, made my dream's inked on his own sleeve, he was a different-type of cat, no pun-intended. See... When we got on the right-pace, all-things-aligned, I never felt like I wasn't at home." He empathized every-memory so fondly and vividly.
"I did a lot of damage to him, we've our past, never out of disdain, hatred-made. His commitments and expectations placed on himself were deeper than ravines, those scars-any saw him with. Was type of guy, who never met any diversity or challenge too big for him. Even marooned, castaway, left on land, forced to survive and thrive. He always recovered the meaning to breathe, and taught others how too as well. As you've seen today... All that's, possibly, left now."
"Rest ever Free."
"Captain Of These Seas."
An-arrow was emitted from springing bow-string for the last-blaze, as the ship was left to go burning, on and on, in lovely-blues, to hopefully find peace, the discovery he desired to always seek.
Pair of wheels bound to a chair for a maimed, battered gruff pirate, who paraded as a Champion was left critically conditioned. Opposition he conquered over was his idol, once a remarkable sea Goldbrand Captain who once herald many stories that peers would’ve recalled over folktales to docks a type worth inciting gossip. Now that legacy was only a ghostly remnant of what could’ve been, more potential never given proper realization.
Deep-down that victory was a let-down, notwithstanding him being in appendages, neck-brace, or temporarily bound ridden handicap. Like most-idolized, often our minds make them larger than life. Only for future disappointments to discover in truth. Often projecting our desired selves, in another and betrayed by the role-model's failure with it being one mutually felt shared from vicariously living.
Sinbad gained an unbridled, self-ignorance, his ego validated flourished, there was no one left who could oppose him in belief; now or ever. Everything revolted against this rookie. Though he defiled odds standing atop the current pirate food chain, he attained pure success uncontested, even if just a lick, a superiority complex manifested. It made this, youthful-lion, No... A viscous shark; who crunched and ate the elder lion's glory and relished donning the trophy mantle, irrationally dangerous.
Consequently, the crosshairs of the misfortune of losing the battle. Kuro's beloved Pride of three-most valued Crewmates of the Goldbrand were contract to a shaken deal for a whole Summer.
Former First Crewmate Judas departed after an emotional falling out. Directionless and had given up on any sense of his own freedom and quest, they were now seen as obscured impossibilities. This was visibly atonement for betraying and acting cowardice in his past, a pill to swallow lastly.
With an unenthusiastic disgruntled pitch the Midlander spoke against his new employing Highlander in mock, “O’ Cap’n well… what will you have of us.” Clearly not wanting to even entertain this, but more keenly he had always had an ill-feeling about this brash pirate and their entire Crew a bunch of immature heathens that took life so carelessly.
Regarded being a snake himself, familiarity could be sniffed, traitorous blood floating in neighboring water. This stead was driven by glory, a majority gained chalked into fortunate events, luck. Sinbad, his new Summer Cap’n, held seemingly boundless strength but one-day inevitably would clash with something that’d not bend nor break. Mayhaps betrayal, or something due to inexperience, the wrong pirate won that pit, he was certain. Upon this young upstart Crew was merely limbs, nameless hands and legs. Submissively broken souls that gave their freedom away for momentary lapses of glint.
Boisterous laughter left the highlander until his sternum ached and pain struck him to quell-down, “Could you care to least pretend you wanna be here? Three-months, might be an eternity otherwise… I can assure you that. Look where you are now. Taking failure for your pathetic Captain wagered everything into. You told my lass to silence herself in a disrespectful way at our parley long-ago, and now I’ve got the power to silence you as my dog, fitting. What and when I command; you’ll roll over and bark, boy!” Raising his voice in declaration at the end, ensuring who dominantly stood, even… well considering he physically currently, could not.
Judas scowled, fellow brow’s frowned but sassed, “Last I checked my Cap’n, had more metal bones than you’ve got. Least he was wobbling on one-leg, and not like you whose is truly left rolling around.” Mocking the condition of the arrogant muscular moron. Unafraid to rebelliously sass, he also made a promise to watch over the other two, Klethera and Casta was also stuck in this arrangement. If angering this tyrant and getting stuck with their share of overloaded work and nonsense, then he’d take it deemed in Repentance. Ensure swiftly and safely, possibly could devise.
Strategic webbing planning worked as the wheel-chaired oaf gave out an offended huff, “Bullshite, you’re bluffing no-way little Solaire isn’t still feeling the effects of our battle. I’d wager he threw everything at me, after-which wallowed in his substances and poor-vices in typical fashion, and you know what… I respect and condemn that alcoholic junky for showing up to our hellish bout, coming close, but I won by an inch, so I’ll take my fucking mile victory. It won’t be long, before I’m healed, then I’ll get back to bashing in trunks and skulls. Until then, you’ll have to lap up the taint-end of my business.” Crudely pointed fact. The Midlander bit his lip to retort further, tension between them. Two volatile elements that weren’t friendly to combine.
Time bellowed forth as the three in Sinbad’s command was left nearly with every responsibility, Casta using her medical knowledge to help get him standing on crutches in physical therapy, roaming around.
Klethera was sent often on messenger and hired goon to retrieve debts.
While Judas was left with the most life-threatening missions, with no rest in-between. Nothing he wasn't accustomed too, conditioning himself tirelessly towards once before for a noble ambition.
Up till their final day appeared, and contract was fulfilled.
The Boss highlander sat now in a befitting chair treating it like some grotesque throne luxuriously diamond-encrusted prime shades looking below twiddling his ringed-fingers, dazzled with assortments of bling; high living, “You managed to survive this Summer, somehow providing usefulness despite who you once followed. What remains in task, is a simple gathering between fellow low-life's. I owed them monthly shares of gil alongside my plunder…" Pursing lip's soaring highly with a daring-thought.
Lowering his shades, doubling down like some hot-shot movie star. His pirate queen lass behind him caressed his muscular stature only furthering his tyrannical beginning. "...Now I don’t see why I’d ever have to continue paying off them anymore. My infamy is about to shoot-up, I’ll be getting the royal bounty treatments. So YOU my darling rag-tag bunch will convince them, find another sugar daddy. They can find their purse elsewhere, or become creative to eliminate that noise if they dare fuss, give them no quarter.” Judas’s haggard visage wrinkled, sharp-blue orbs were left murky, his eyelids were bagged tirelessly overworked, weight loss, parched lips and complexion didn’t fare well, absolutely deprived of energy and sapped to even refuse, but had peculiar sixth-sense this wasn’t wise, nervous bumps swarmed up his arms, intuition to fuss, but was drowned due to all his other ailments.
This deplorable chapter and nightmare; Summer of Sinbad, held closure by mid-day. Underneath relief as his other two-companions weren’t like him in shape, thankfully sighing. While Klethera and Casta shared disbelief of their First Crewmate’s convicted resolve to remain a guardian even outside of their former mutual flag.
Danger within Sinbad’s new attitude intrinsically wasn’t his own danger that held frightening concern. …But what fed on rash thinkers.
Above all other forms. In darkness dwelling almost certainly, lurked a set of blood-thirsty behemoth predators, dragons; monsters which consumed the lowly deemed ‘'predators”’ effortlessly.
One-night remaining to rest.
Judas couldn’t shake the shivers of the cold brigs forced to lay near a barred window almost like a cell. He was superstitiously forewarned when the tide grew so silent like this dusk. He was kept personally wide-awake. Sharpening his hidden dirks, anxious, most likely there would be blood spilled in ten bells. No way this whole assembly involving cutthroats, pirates, could go smoothly… Didn’t help Sinbad didn’t elaborate which ("band") they were about to cross.
Casta couldn’t escape her routine nightly tears; she confined herself typically to writing but currently held no way to unleash or express her downtrodden emotions. Harm was felt in her healing with guilt, surgically stitching the very person who demolished her revered hero in a Seeker Captain. Casta wasn’t far from Sinbad; they both shared their stories why they looked up to the scoundrel black-cat, but perspective couldn’t be further how they handled it. She saw the contrast of just how vastly different her Seeker was in leadership, treating subordinates like actual-beings and equal, giving freedom catching people from slipping off the teetering sea-vessel wanting to chart the character, and depths of souls, judging actions not faceless covers.
Versus Sinbad’s commandment, whose self-serving acting; all means to ends. It brought back familiar trauma that festered in tremors, abundant cold sweats. She couldn’t identify her own anger building, but negativeness, being generally overwhelmed was consuming her most-humane gentleness. Comparable to a flower being watered-down with ever punishing downpour, merely hoping it could-brave and survive another night.
Lastly aboard was Klethera who volunteered working off sentence. Her fault in belief, feeling Sinbad in twisted-way, was grieving despite mouthing otherwise, taking life-careless and acting so righteous in a way. She brought down Sinbad’s brother’s life to end… despite that man having a putrid soul, was unquestionably not hers to take. That’s the issue with deemed heroes; they're often shouted praise for them destroying evil but they enact themselves evil's color, murdering to achieve resolutions of peace.
She felt guilt, knowing better, should have captured and let chains, or cells hold nonredeemable. Yet... Hanging around the pirate crowd construed her thinking, she witnessed how many couldn’t be contained by that method. So when then?! If at any, extent should evil be annihilated? Who can reside as judge? Her perceived bloodline was tainted; a pirate father definitely had his share of kills, alongside a grandfather who assassinated countless men for shreds of peace, she didn’t want to partake in that savagery of ending any more lives or one another, the rebellious attitude flowed so beautifully identical to her predecessors.
...However, could she really escape fate standing above a mountain of bodies? Maybe her father was right and couldn’t keep up with this atmosphere. Making her sizzle with heat, an acceptance stubborn to admit… She began dreaming of a new-way to battle, it’d be her own-style to materialize.
The three in unison before dawn-break, connected a thought, wondering what became with their Crew having to depart right before this harrowing, learning shortly a traitor was creating chaos among their own flagship. For a brief-moment, they began to feel close; like an actual family forming, now a distant memory from unending chaos.
[Prev:Chapter]: Prelude to Destiny ~ ♪"Warm Shadow"♪
Dark gloomy clouds overtook the Sun. As a massive sea-vessel approached a designated port. Tension was felt from the air, humid, only briefest a glimpse of a reliving breeze.
Underarm crutches stomped against bulwark, still covered in appendages and valley of injuries. But like what took place in the skies, a storm felt inevitable. It wasn’t wise to leave things uncheck.
He heard of what transpired in his mending. Someone upon his own Crew saw to set him ablaze. That troubling fact was numb perhaps only due to his already extensive injuries.
Being Leader he took the reins despite his conditioning because if he hadn’t there was going to be a mutiny. Also not solving or trying too, could lead to the culprit to attempt to execute someone else entirely this poison needed to be neutralized. He forced his consciousness open.
Getting a head-tip from the Crew as he left his cabin room that everyone’s number one suspect was conveniently departing at this very time, he angrily pushed himself to the docks where the blonde-haired Midlander in his princely-appearance took pause in his leave.
“Judas! Not yet matey. Isn’t going down like this, I need some answers. We all do.” His breathing was noticeably heaving, wheezing his lungs not entirely clear.
The Midlander gave a frown of disappointment, it was a curious look that could have been attributed to the history of this man once turning his back on his own fond Captain. “Cut the bullshit, Cap’n, only here because you still don’t trust me. My sins and transgressions formerly, are right to assume that, I expect that. But I didn’t do it.” His brow’s and the way his eyelids lowered and features was concerning maybe, it wasn’t disappointment, but heartache.
The Seeker squinched up his visage and gave a sarcastic tone, “Geez, ye right, I don’t know if I can, I was at my lowest and that’s when you struck me, that guy who looked EXACTLY like you in the past, stabbed me in the back and then n’ my HEART. I’d like to think anything, anyone, is capable of change. I know it’s achievable. It’s why I saw to fight another chance to get this going again. You and me, cause when we’re on the same page, we can make magic. Upon my ventures on land, I've learned n' appreciation fer trust. There may b’ little out there more valuable in life... It's also the host ov' a saddening graveyard. Ye take trust granted, every-time, it almost certainly means death. Whether you, or what was." The sailor spoke with his chest. Experiencing too often people give up their lack of expectations just cause they didn't want to engage, be led to wasted time, or indulge in pain’s kiss.
Seeing in that perspective he couldn't blame it. He was conditioned in a world of betrayal as something common-grounds, so he made it apparent for others to assume the worse about him early on by his presentation in his most unflattering self. Giving the decision to know the water's dangerous edge makes people frightful of the roaring tides. You can always reliably sell anyone on their own twisted truth, guaranteed unquestioning it.
Those bold who took the plunge against their fears often unlocked things they would've never attained otherwise, that eventually they wouldn't be able to see their life without. It was what he sought to represent to prevent others from becoming a slave of hopelessness. He would personally hide behind mask after mask showing that he had his knees buckle to despair. Playing fantasy that he was indomitable, a commendable warrior.
Stings of deceit weren't something he was immune to. He just braved that facade. It took chunks out of him, leading to such a fragmented soul, keeping and harboring that resentment, it meant unsafely; reason to hide an extra knife before slumber.
Puncturing eyes of Judas who manipulated and tricked his way for any opportunistic path, to get closer to his goal, once saw right through his scoundrel brethren. "Captain... I thought we were beyond this, dammit! If you took a second and THOUGHT instead of allowing your emotions to think for you. That is your worst design, always has been. I swear sometimes. You perceive yourself as someone who isn’t a strategist, cunning, smart and has always placed me so far above you that, can’t even see how incredible you can be, and what you’ve conquered alone! A lifetime worth of envy, there isn’t any shock of why someone saw to cut you down, shoot their deplorable shot. Understand this, AGAIN, — I vowed to provide wind against your back! – Thing is if you resist it, there's no sailing forward. MAYBE; I have never said it before, since I betrayed and caused that mutiny over what WAS a decade ago, but I'm sorry! Okay?! Does that really do anything to help?! Huh?! I don’t think ‘words’ have any value." Blood began to rush, tempers were igniting bottled issues, and just overall wounding in his verbal pitch. He had been aside Captain and offered all his advice, tribute himself to that contest and entrusted Captain in that brutal battleground. He even smacked off against his enemy, and yet was vilified and outnumbered.
The Seeker’s lips pursed and snickered not believing this instantaneously but gave silence with an emotional stare-down.
Judas continued after a pause trying to contain himself in a pressure sigh, never evading the unyielding contact, composed, "...I have lived with that everyday! You have no clue what it did to me to hurt you..." Strongly using his hand’s to communicate pointing between them. The inflection in his tone came from nestled deep within a heart. There was something genuine, powerful, woe inducing.
Captain’s visage showed despondency, the people who are most important and closest felt a need to strike us the hardest. And maybe there was something that wasn't wrong about it, one bit to prevent us from going a wrong path. Just like how lies were ushered to children, youth, about monsters under the bed, to keep them safe, lies aren't always evil. What is often the most disgusting, against mankind, deemed cruel ways to perceive, could be yet again, the way to show an unbeatable level of care.
Between these two men was something close they shared undeniably. Always bubbling, never surfacing.
With an exhale Judas took note of the silence over this. "You know what Cap'n, it's alright, you don't want to trust me, can't... If we're done here, then it’s done. I shouldn't have ever burdened you with my own burden.." The Hyur who often did anything to get-ahead for his ambition, would've used anyone, sold out anybody to get back to his home.
Gave up.
The Seeker couldn't believe what was unfolding in revelations. Under that intense moment, he recognized this man wasn't at all the culprit but framed deceptively. Finally snapping out of it, he noticed the Hyur retrieve his knapsack and was walking off the gangplank.
"Wait, where are ye going?" He attempted to chase hastily but fell on his crutches and plummeted trying to pursue. The crash heard Judas looking over shoulder, "Perhaps no one informed you, but Captain Sinbad collected his reward while you were out and chose his Three Crewmates. He picked myself, Casta our Surgeon, and even your own daughter, gave herself to volunteer, Klethera. – I'm getting a new start ahead, perhaps this is best. I'll lookout after them." Trying to cope and find a silver-lining there was just a broken man that shattered before the Captain.
While feeling that physically, and emotionally just drowned, unable to even give a cheeky response, or snark back, utter defeat. Laid with an unconstrained emotion, it was easier, accepting Judas did betray him again. Wasn’t something they didn’t overcome before, but now this meant, another on the Crew sought to dismantle Captain of anything associated with his dear life.
The most potent betrayal was invisible. Strings tugging at you by an unknown, forcing you to strike against the wrong individuals, until you erased everything that meant a damn.
In one rushing moment a riptide reminded his losses. Incomprehensibly too much to handle at once, he fell in a vegetative state, lids and sight only witnessing boots of departure to someone, he never spoke and confessed his feelings. He felt exposed, out again in so many wounds, scar’s reopened, cut thousands of times left to bleed, trying to find out if there was an extra bone to make him sturdy to endure this pit and stand.
This bloom zenith of life Captain nourished throughout last Summer who Captain rode highly, seemed destined for abscission.
Oversensitive hearing quivered within the past, a series of other bottle's all aligned on a table also matched. Drinking so far only wishing to feel numbness, wanting to remove the count of days.
The first crack to a heartbreak was always the most significantly damaging one. It left prolonged damage. Ilm's away from being removed from this lifestyle, changing his own future. A recipe of fitting design gave form, only fitting a scoundrel who broke other hearts, swindled them into comfort to open and steal belongings.
Would eventually become a victim to his own trade. Being matched and bested. Used strictly at the grandest escape, a runaway, nothing little more than a rebound, picker-up, or second life. Fleeting, controlled by deceit and lies, on the very day of his proposed wedding. His bride-to-be went missing, only cleverly doing it by her own charts. She affected his heart with a blackness, it spelled simplistic facts, for long as he lived, there wasn't to be peace, he would never, ever get a happy ever-after. That's all a sailor deserves, impaling ambitions leads to curses.
In this youth. He wasn't prepared, and didn't fathom. The unfortunate rain of bad, coming. Forewarned of having a heart, as predecessors of his kind on the seas, learned to castaway it. The greatest of conquerors, out-right, ate their own heart. For it couldn't be swayed then, or used by any. Not even them. They gave rise and terrible birth to Scourges. They possess mentalities, fixations, greed in-which, cannot be denied.
His compassionate side, as warned by his Founding Captain, would be his undoing. Through his poor-miserable drifting days, by having a mantle, this isn't what people follow, this is a cancer. He stopped caring, didn't think, lost all sight for what, a single love?
So in his barely drooling and drunken haze, he was met with opposition by his own Crew. They barraged the doors and surrounded him, Judas his main First Crewmate and trustworthy, they had a tight-pact, but it didn't seem that the Captain of the Goldbrand took things seriously anymore. There were things promised to all these men, and by continuing to follow the dream's of an ambitious man, who can no longer walk, is no different than being in-slavery. A wake-up call was required. So like a snake, within the den of a lion, he whispered, and slithered... He brewed all the fellows under his new helm, and with a hiss, he commanded a feast on the lion, for there was no pride left on his side.
The Seeker tried to resist barely with any willpower, they gave him intervention he wouldn't forget. A strike against the cheek with a dirk, first scar that kept all this as memento, something not to be proud of, he not only failed to love. He failed at everything. There was no bigger loser than him.
They took their aggressiveness and assaulted him viciously. Like a pack of hyena's until he left a bloodied, bruised mess, even more less functional than before. Stripping him down until he held a sliver of fabric on his loins. "You caused this. Made us come to this... I don't like liars." Judas himself, had to undergo the process of slaughtering his own heart to deliver this, because his ambitions could engulf a world.
"Walk the plank." They left barely but startling and fidgeting teeth kicked down his throat, the metallic blood being swallowed, hefty breathing. He saw dream-like after-images of everything, blurry visioned. Then that stupid son of a bitch, Seeker still showed some last-ditch effort, wobbling on his feet, and trying to impose a fighting stance, wasn't brave just a stubborn fool.
He ceremoniously had to be kicked and forced down off the planks landing into the seas. They anchored off after throwing a single drift-wood, over his descending. The smallest minuscule of what it felt like he carried them on, returned.
Judas drowned the pain of betrayal and turned it into his badge, moniker, his dirk fresh of leaking sanguine. Looking at it before polishing, "If he dies, he dies..." Regardless, this broke and killed him. As the sea's swallowed instinct only gave him enough to float back at the kicking surface, only to drift abide the seas, current and destination, for his sentencing.
There he was removed of all, left nothing to call man. Marooned on a place deemed the savage-lands or Black Shrouds. Deprived and wild this was all the events, leading up to the worst days, when it rains, there's pour. What eventually gave birth to his soul being sundered a-split. Oneirophrenia swelled within his veins to his brain, instinct was his own survival, but that numbness the alcohol provided, only lingered. Feather lightweight stayed in bones, it inked there, a disgraceful scar singed and got infected on his cheek; like a brand.
Inescapable, tarnishing seven sins, committed and gave to live.
Humanity was depleted and fragmented, daily.
Wild in the wilderness, gave beginning.
