Event DreadPoet Storytime -- Official Story Thread

Discussion in 'TLOPO Events' started by Dread Poet Roberts, Jan 8, 2017.

  1. Horatio

    Horatio Honorable Pirate

    Feb 6, 2016
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    It takes a lot of time to create a sonnet. Thank you.
  2. Horatio

    Horatio Honorable Pirate

    Feb 6, 2016
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    Sea Grave was presented by Ben Gone at Story Time, 6/26/2017

    Sea Grave

    From the stout, frothy crests to heaven
    to the troughs, they bound and tore
    And there from the pit they un-dug themselves;
    then up again once more

    The spectacle was sorely grand
    The noble ship was born,
    like a reed discarded and tossed askew, at
    the mercy of the seas wild scorn

    The seas in such raged, wild commotion
    From billow to billow they soared
    As the tempest roared in wild-wrought fury
    They were beat to 'smitheres' well scored

    Waves that were lashed by the raging tempest
    were turned to a sparkling white foam,
    and hissed and thrashed and whistled on past,
    and drove the vengeance home

    No voice could warn them of the danger
    No hand could be stretched to save
    No choice was there, no hope to bear
    ...and all to a watery grave
  3. ElizaCreststeel

    Wiki Staff

    Apr 10, 2011
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    As read at Story Time, 6/26/2017.

    Ramona hated sailors. But in her small port town, it came to be she married one.

    A sodden, uneducated oaf who would have amounted to nothing, if it weren't for his merchant father. Gone for weeks and when returned, he smelled of fish guts, grog and tar. Ramona lamented each day.

    Then, she met Ezekiel.

    A striking man. Tall, strong with steel-grey eyes. He passed her in the market, smelling of salt air. Ezekiel asked her name and she practically sang, Ra-mona. Suddenly, sailors did not seem so repulsive. He walked her along the shore, dined with her, bought her fine powders, oils and a new dress.

    On a moonlit night, on a hill overlooking the bay... she broke her vows of marriage... with Ezekiel.

    "We should go away from here," he said. "Far from your odious husband. But, I have no ship of my own."

    'My pig of a husband commands an East India brig,' Ramona whispered. 'It could be ours for the taking.'

    And so, they stole into the night. At the port, she visited the watchmen, giving them a bottle to share. Soon, they were slumbering off their drunken stupor. Ramona waited by the gangplank for her new love and her new life... and soon Ezekiel came. But, not alone.

    The men who accompanied him sent a shiver down her spine, brandishing knives, covered in scars and tattoos. They stole aboard, prepared to do ill deeds.

    "I'm sorry, luv. But my men need a ship and your husband's will do. I bid thee farewell."

    Ezekiel gazed at her with his steel eyes, then turned to go. But, Ramona took his hand.

    'Take me with you,' said she.

    "This is not a life I would wish upon you."

    'Better that fate than the one I live now.'

    The pirates dispatched the men on watch and set about untying their prize from the wharf. At the helm, Ramona and Ezekiel waited for the all clear when her husband appeared, cutlass at the ready. The commander sneered, the blade pointing at the pirates throat, moving Ramona aside to protect her.

    "You scum! Steal my ship! Ransom my wife!" he snarled, "You won't wait for the noose! I'll see you-u-uaaaagh!!"

    Ramona thrust the dagger. All of her hatred pushing it harder and harder into his back; the blade finding its mark.

    'The ship is yours now, my Ezekiel.'

    "Captain," he corrected. "Captain Ezekiel Rott. You're a murderer and now a part of the Casa De Muertos, Ramona."

    "Captain," Ramona smirked, "You used me as I used you. And since my husband is now dead, call me Ramona Vda De Guerra."

    The Widow of War.
    Horatio, tlonge, Kai Devlin and 2 others like this.
  4. Horatio

    Horatio Honorable Pirate

    Feb 6, 2016
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    Sea Wraith was presented by Canon Bluefire at Story Time, 07/10/2017

    Sea Wraith

    The silent night darkens, deep mists roll in
    The heavy moist air bears a palpable skin
    All quiet but light clicking and clapping
    The lapping on the ship, a light tapping

    No birds of kind are there in flight
    No fish of kind are there in sight
    No wind, no breath, no sign of unrest
    All quiet, as Nature relaxes its best

    Slowly, in the mists, a lightening unfolds
    From a distance a speck grows as it molds
    Something in motion sets over the sea
    Developing, developing — not yet to be

    Growing in brightness, now, finding a form
    Not so much churning now, lines to conform
    Getting much closer now, growing in size
    Developing features, and definitely eyes

    No more solid than a growing white mist
    No feeling, no action, no volition - all missed
    No substantial existence from what you can see
    Only a shimmering of the fog and the sea

    Then, clarity is born from the whirling white mists
    A figure, near human, undoubted exists
    The presence comes gliding, slowly with ease
    Her garments all flowing as though in a breeze

    A hooded great cloak flies light in the sway
    Holding some features of the figure at bay
    A wispy white gown flows free underneath
    The specter, in whole, as white as your teeth

    Searching for something - an object to seize?
    One would not know if this would all please
    A grimness of sorts - a daring treatise?
    A determined look prompts startled unease

    Beauty well poised, and grace, made ill-wrought
    Of great misfortune this creature is fraught
    Looking at us in a glare well distraught
    Finding no comfort for what, we know not

    Long slender hands, bare ankles and feet
    Long thin hair swept around but yet neat
    A face of fine marble, well chiseled, high-crowned
    Cheeks well high-boned, with eyes almond round

    No doubt a young lass much loved and bemoaned
    Searching all time for something postponed
    One lost at sea, she is looking to find
    With but her soul and what’s left of her mind

    She covered us all with a sweep of her eyes
    And then nodded her head with long, painful sighs
    With this last movement, it would not be long
    One moment here, the next moment gone.

    May the gods give some peace,
    for all that is wrong.
    tlonge, Kathy, Nebula and 3 others like this.
  5. Dread Poet Roberts

    Dread Poet Roberts Pirate Apprentice

    Sep 14, 2011
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    Fire and Fury

    By Dread Poet Roberts 7/10/2017

    Fire and fury

    Wind and rain

    Tumultuous seas

    Turning back again

    When once returned this hovel of home

    Bejeweled in memory

    Ramshackle in decrepitude

    Our history wretches with sodden air

    Of this our last goodbye.

    Driven forth like the blinding rain

    Tempest swirl of accusations

    Unjustly unfurled

    Am neither saint nor sinner

    But muddled in between

    Thief of my own provenance

    Master of my demise

    A whiff of sulfur fills the air

    Thunder crack and shot

    Out the window tossed

    Lands upon my feet

    And stooping retrieve

    The barrel white with heat



    The citizens aroused

    In discordant hurried manner

    Spied the pistol upon my grasp

    Flint and steel connected with the striking of the hammer



    Their pointed accusations stung

    Vigilantes of the night

    Not I

    In innocence my case refused

    The oxcart rope severed

    Drooped low over lantern bracketed walls

    A handhold noose

    An I thinking better of my options

    Beat a hasty retreat

    To fortress walls and sheer cliffs they followed

    Over the parapet to footholds

    Leaping to fall into purgatory

    Neither dashed on rocks or strung from crossbar

    Death from heavens or death from hell

    Stopping sounds of time

    The droning of the bell

    I perch

    Crouched low on sea foam lintel

    And in choosing to fall

    Collapsed into waiting Neptune embrace

    The torches follow me down

    Extinguished in sizzle

    Dampened by gloom

    Hides the waterspout plume

    Carries upon fates shoulders

    Safely ashore

    My life behind be at end

    My soul reborn

    Fire and fury so forlorn

    Of all I leave behind

    That one day I may return to clear my name

    Vicissitudes at most unkind.
  6. Sorrow

    Sorrow Sea Legs

    Feb 1, 2017
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    My story is too long to fit here. Here is what I can post. You can read the rest here: The Cabin Boy

    The Cabin Boy
    For pirates awaiting their fates
    on the Kingshead gallows,
    the sun rising over the Armory walls is often the last thing they see before the black hood falls over their eyes forever.
    How one faces those moments before that last, endless drop reveals the true metal of a pirate.
    Lieutenant Montgomery was not surprised to see a boy of no more than 12 years on that morning's gallows list.
    Such boys were common on pirate ships, and the Lieutenant had already seen his fill of them doing the Hangman's Dance.
    Some cried, some begged, some put on a brave front, but all of them eventually hung like the pirates they were.
    But this one was different.
    Despite his tears, this one stood straight and seemed to beam with pride.
    His face glowed around the angry scar across one cheek,
    and he clutched a well-worn knotted cord hanging from his belt.
    Lieutenant Montgomery stood before him and asked,
    "On the day you answer to the Almighty, boy, who are you to show so little repentance?"
    The boy raised his chin and sniffed.
    "I stand accused of being Capitaine of the Sanglant Bête, scourge of Anglais and Espagnol alike,
    and the Almighty has more to fear of me than I of Him, oui?"
    The guards and condemned alike laughed in spite of themselves,
    and while the Lieutenant raised his eyebrows in surprise,
    the Hangman's face turned red with anger.
    "How DARE you!"
    His fist lashed out, leaving a bloody twin to the scar on the boy's other cheek,
    but the boy hardly flinched.
    "And I've proven the better of greater men than you, Monsieur."
    The Hangman moved to strike again, but the Lieutenant smiled and waved him away.
    "Big words for such a small pirate. How can you claim captaincy of one of the Caribbean's most notorious ships and crews?"
    The boy touched his new wound for a moment.
    "I began lowly, Monsieur, a mere loblolly boy aboard the Sanglant Bête, the youngest of her crew.
    I served my ship as best as I was able,
    and endeavored to earn favorable notice of my Capitaine, the Comte Jacque de Deuil."
    "I have heard of him," Lieutenant Montgomery murmured with a nod.
    "Of course you have... all Anglais have cause to fear him.
    Though I performed all the tasks demanded of me without complaint,
    fault was always found by Bo's'n Mede.
    There was no one I feared more than him.
    Him and his rod of braided leather, his Dame Serrer.
    'Maggot! I told you to mend those sails! Those stitches will spill more than a drunken serving wench!'
    'Maggot! You say you've holy-stoned the deck? You want the Capitaine's daughter to scuff her shoes, you worthless cur?'
    'Maggot! I told you to polish this brass work! I want the Capitaine's daughter to be able to see her own reflection before yer done!'
    The Capitaine's daughter, Mademoiselle Tristesse. Always she was used to shame me.
    Maybe two or three years my senior, she had been raised aboard the Sanglant Bête,
    and she knew every board and plank, every mast and spar,
    every rope, every gun, every knothole.
    She had worked every watch, mastered every station, from the lowest swab to her own father's logs and charts.
    Not to mention music, poetry, elocution, and every other quality expected of a proper French lady.
    Many a night was I lulled to sleep by the harpsichord music coming from her cabin.
    As I labored, I would gaze upon her from afar, standing at the wheel,
    the wind blowing through the curls of her long, black hair,
    the buckles and buttons of her jacket flashing in the sun,
    her skin burnt brown, her clever eyes a brilliant green.
    Oh, how I admired her!
    Oh, how I tried to earn the slightest tender glance!
    But Bo's'n Mede always found ways to shame me.
    'Maggot! You call these reef knots? I've seen better twists in Mademoiselle Tristesse's embroidery!'
    It was my clumsy knots that really angered him that day,
    or perhaps it was my glances at Mademoiselle Tristesse.
    Down came his Dame Serrer.
    On my back, my shoulders, my neck, my face."
    The boy's hand rose to the livid scar across his cheek.
    "Again and again and again.
    After that, I fled to the stages hanging behind the aft hull.
    And there above the churning wake of the ship,
    I wept and cursed my fate and my clumsy, stupid fingers.
    'Was that supposed to be a reef knot?'
    The voice came from above, and looking up, I saw an angel over me.
    No, not an angel, but close enough.
    It was Tristesse smiling down at me from a window above, her black hair framing her like a halo.
    My chosen hiding spot had been directly beneath her cabin.
    She invited me in, and she showed me how to tie the knots."
    The boy showed the knotted cord hanging from his belt.
    "She gave me this, from her own hair ribbon collection,
    and I keep it for practicing my knots...
    In the days ahead, we became friends.
    She helped me become a better sailor,
    and her cabin became shelter from Bo's'n Mede's rages.
    But after one beating that nearly left me dead, we decided something had to be done.
    It was rather simple, really, as Tristesse was very much aware of the hungry looks Mede gave her when he didn't think she was looking.
    During one of the hottest days, she asked her father to give her lessons on the quarterdeck.
    She was dressed comfortably, in cotton petticoats, a broad hat and parasol, her feet in a tray of water,
    while she knew her father would insist on formal wear in the presence of his crew.
    As the hours dragged on, his vest and heavy jacket, rapier, wig, and hat took their toll.
    I was nearby, vigorously holy-stoning the deck to remove the splinters Tristesse had complained about, making sure Mede was in earshot.
    As Capitaine Deuil dictated and recited, his voice became dry, and he swayed in his boots.
    Seeing this, Tristesse made sure Bo's'n Mede was suitably distracted.
    Raising her petticoats to her thigh, she lifted her leg and inspected her ankle.
    The fool's jaw dropped, and he could do naught but stare. As did much of the rest of the crew.
    Irritated, Capitaine Deuil looked to me, perhaps the only crewman still diligent at his work,
    and requested I fetch him a ladle of water from the barrel by the mainmast.
    Mede's eyes snapped to me as he saw me jog to the barrel.
    'You filthy maggot!' he screamed. His Dame Serrer crashed down on my wrist, knocking the ladle and water to the deck.
    'I didn't give you
    permission to leave your post!' His leather rod rose to strike me again.
    'Monsieur Mede,' Capitaine Deuil hissed, his voice icy in the Caribbean heat, 'I had requested that water.
    And if you had kept your eyes on your work rather than on my daughter, you would have known that.'
    On that day, it was Bo's'n Mede's turn to take his stripes.
    Things changed for me after that.
    Perhaps Capitaine Deuil was in on our prank, or perhaps he just trusted his daughter's judgment,
    but he took me on as his personal cabin boy.
    (I even got my own cutlass... Perhaps you've seen it lying around on these islands?)
    I was permitted to work in his cabins while he conducted his daughter's lessons, where I learned much from them both.
    But Bo's'n Mede never forgot his embarrassment, and we would soon reap what we sewed.
    The Comte Jacque de Deuil was a privateer of some renown, and he had his share of enemies.
    But there were few rivalries with such enmity as that between him and the Espagnol commander, Padre Pudrir.
    We had anchored for repairs in a bay on Cutthroat Isle, when his frigate, the Oxidado Espadín, appeared around a spit of land.
    How he found us, we'll never know... but I have some ideas.
    Capitaine Deuil called 'Aux postes de combat!' and ordered the anchors raised.
    As we struggled to find wind, the Oxidado Espadín raked us with her first broadside.
    Wood shattered, there were explosions and rapports, and men screamed.
    'Bo's'n Mede,' Deuil bellowed, 'Where is the Lieutenant de Vaisseau?'
    But Mede didn't answer. He didn't even turn around, and merely looked out at the horizon.
    As if nothing were happening.
    We limped forward, but we had to pass the Espagnol before we could escape the bay.
    'Bo's'n Mede! Prepare to fire!'
    But Mede didn't move. He still looked away, his hands clasped behind his back.
    The Espagnol fired again, shattering our port side.
    The deck became thick with smoke and the smell of death.
    'Fire! Fire!' Deuil shouted, trying to be heard by his crew.

    You can read the rest here: The Cabin Boy
  7. Horatio

    Horatio Honorable Pirate

    Feb 6, 2016
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    Shipping Out was presented by Ben Gone at Story Time, 7/25/2017

    Shipping Out

    There’s a schooner bright and pretty
    with a crew list yet to be
    And, I’m well set for a wandering along
    the highways of the sea

    And when I’m ready for leaving behind
    these chaotic bights of land,
    I’ll have no regrets, or sorrow, or grief,
    as the ship slips by the strand

    So far away, another land
    to which the ship must go
    But where and when I do not care;
    but to be in Nature’s throw

    The wind, the waves, the Ocean ways,
    to these I’ll take a stand
    For of human works I have no praise,
    but these things I understand
  8. Kai Devlin

    Kai Devlin Sea Legs

    Aug 24, 2015
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    I was in the King's Arm once with my friend Maggie and we heard a tale about someone whom we greatly admire as a storyteller and pirate, namely, Dread Poet Roberts. I don't know if the tale is true, but in honor of Dread and in appreciation for his efforts at story time, I recounted it on 7-25-17 at story time in the Grotto.

    Dread Meets the Undead

    Dread Poet Roberts
    Laid upon his bed,
    Stories quite fantastic
    Racing through his head.

    A bony finger touched his cheek
    And wiped his tears away,
    And then a ghostly voice implored,
    "I need a place to stay."

    "Good God!" cried poor Roberts,
    "Why are you in my bed?
    The creatures from my stories
    Belong inside my head!"

    "I just want some rest," she said,
    "So please don't quake or shriek.
    I am an undead pirate girl,
    But peace is all I seek."

    So Dread let her lie there
    And share his lonely bed.
    He knew she needed to escape
    The violence in his head.

    And Dread himself stopped hurting
    And soundly he did sleep.
    Spooning with an undead girl,
    The poet was complete.
    Horatio likes this.
  9. Horatio

    Horatio Honorable Pirate

    Feb 6, 2016
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    Abandoned was presented by Canon Bluefire at Story Time, 8/7/2017


    On a serene and soothing evening
    On a relaxed and restful sea
    A shapeless object came drifting forth
    with a face well clothed in calamity

    At first a curious look
    A break in minor monotony
    But then there proved a recognizable mast
    that rocked in unspoken agony

    Seaweed flaunted the sides
    Shell-fish were fastened about
    Obviously adrift for many a month
    Of this —the image was stout

    No crew to be found a-working
    No crew to be found at rest
    The upper deck was well washed clean,
    for the sea had done its best

    The struggle had long been over
    A storm had cast aside
    And the men aboard were washed away
    and left to the merciless tide

    No one can recount their story
    No one can relate the end
    Their bones lie whitening among caverns deep
    in a silence quite heavily penned

    What sighs have wafted so sadly
    What prayers have been offered up
    Their women at home, by the fireside, sit
    drinking from hopes last cup

    How anxiety turns to dread,
    and dread, in turn, to despair
    Not one memento shall the sea return for
    the sea has no feeling of fair

    The ways of the sea, unforgiving
    The powers of the sea, immense
    The wisdom of the sea, eternal, but
    for the redress of Man; no sense
    CharlotteIronPhoenix likes this.
  10. CharlotteIronPhoenix

    CharlotteIronPhoenix Honorable Pirate

    Jan 13, 2017
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    The Blade of the Abyss Part 1 as presented by Charlotte Ironpoenix on 8/8/17

    The Blade of the Abyss.

    Many of you covet this cursed sword do you not?

    (Audience replies)

    Then listen to this tale and be warned that you may pay for this blade with your very soul.

    There once was a man named David who was but a humble fisherman on Port Royal. His was a life of hard work and little pay, but he was a good man and he had a decent living. It came to be that he was betrothed to a woman named Anne and even though she was only the daughter of a poor seamstress and had little in the way of a dowry, he was very much in love with her.

    But there came a day that Port Royal was attacked by a small crew of pirates. It was a bitter battle under stormy skies, but the pirates were well prepared and they raided the town, taking a number of fair young women hostage including sweet Anne.

    The Navy attempted to give chase but when the pirate ship reached Isla Tormenta they gave up hope of overtaking them.

    David was distraught when he heard the news. Neither Anne's mother nor himself would have the coin to pay a pirate's ransom and it grieved his heart to think of what the pirates would do to her.

    Too anxious to keep still he went for a walk to try to clear his troubled mind. The storm that had been brewing broke overhead and drenched David down to his long shirt but he did not care, continuing to wander until his feet carried him deep into the jungle around the town.

    "I would do anything to get Anne back," he shouted aloud, the thunder roaring as if in agreement.

    "Anything?" Asked a gravelly voice.

    David turned around quickly, behind him stood an old man thin and frail leaning on a wooden cane.

    "You gave me a fright Grandfather," David addressed the stranger politely, "forgive me, I was so lost in thought that I did not notice you."

    The old man stared at him with a strange look in his black eyes, "Tell me David, do you truly mean what you say, that you would give anything, anything at all to get your betrothed back?"

    An uneasy feeling twisted David's gut as the hairs on his neck and arms stood on end, "How do you know my name?"

    The strangers thin lips twisted into a semblance of a smile.

    "I know a great many things, but every moment you dally here is a moment longer that your Anne is beset upon by those pirates." The thunder growled overhead and he continued, "Give me your answer now David, son of William and Mary. Do you vow that you will give anything to get your Anne back from the pirates who stole her away?"

    David's heart was clenched in fear of an unknown terror but he answered, "Aye you have my word that I will give anything to get Anne back."

    The old man's lips pulled back into a wide toothless grin, "Then take this and you have my word it will give you the power to accomplish that task!" The old man took his cane and with surprising strength thrust it deep into the ground. All around them the thunder roared like a great wave of water crashing down upon the earth and the world went blinding white and silent as lightning struck the cane.

    David fell down with a cry, deafened and blinded by the lightning striking so close but otherwise unharmed. His whole body shook and it felt like an eternity until his ears stopped ringing and his vision cleared. All around him was silent, the air filled with an unpleasant stench the like of which David did not know the make of.

    The old man was gone, the place where he once stood blackened and small fires dotting the brush and trees, snapping and hissing in the rain. At the center where the cane had been thrust there now was a sword great in size and strange in design. Spaced all along the blade were finger length spikes and David could not discern what it was made from. He felt sick when he briefly thought it looked more like it had been crafted from bones than it did metal.

    David reached out and with a trembling hand touched one of the spikes. When the lightest pressure split his skin open he jerked his bleeding finger away. David had never even held a sword, how could this one possibly help him? Standing slowly he pulled it from the ground and at once a strange heat filled him with confidence.

    He would make those pirates pay.
    Bort Greasegorb likes this.
  11. CharlotteIronPhoenix

    CharlotteIronPhoenix Honorable Pirate

    Jan 13, 2017
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    The Blade of the Abyss Part 2

    The storm around him made the ships tied up at the docks buck and pitch, he knew his own little fishing boat was not seaworthy enough to cross the ocean in this gale. So David stole himself onto a little navy sloop tied up at the docks and surprised both himself and the two poor cadets that had been assigned watch duty in this foul weather.

    "Halt! State your business here!" One of them ordered, the young man's hands shaking around his bayonet as he eyed the cruel sword in David's hand.

    "I just-- " David made the mistake of lifting his sword and the navy cadet aimed to shoot.

    David swung the sword in front of him instinctively and was shocked and horrified when the two cadets were consumed by green fire. Their deaths were almost instant. Almost.

    Dropping the sword and running to the side of the ship, David immediately lost his supper. What kind of unholy power possessed that blade? He glanced back at it and looked again when he saw it was still smoldering with fire. Surely that sword belonged to the devil, he thought and his heart clenched in fear. What had he bargained for? WHO had he bargained with?

    He knew not how long he stood there frozen but eventually he shook himself free. He had to save Anne, there was no turning back now. He was doomed for certain but there was still the chance to save her.

    He cast off from Port Royal and sailed west towards the mountain that marked Isla Tormenta in the sea. The pirates had anchored their ship off its beach and had gone below deck to celebrate with their ill gotten plunder. David watched the ship from afar, spotting the two watchmen on deck huddled down under their coats in the rain but otherwise laughing in good spirits as they passed a bottle of rum between them.

    David felt his blood boil like it never had before, his hand clenching around the cursed sword. He had struggled for everything he had in life and here these men just stole what they pleased and seemed not the least bit remorseful. What gave them that right?

    He took the sloop's little long boat and quietly slipped up beside the pirates ship. Creeping up to the forecastle where the two pirates stood watch, David snuck up behind them and before they could raise an alarm he cut them both down in a single stroke. The sword smoldered in the dark with a red sheen and where before he had been horrified by his actions, now he felt wonderfully at peace. Euphoric even. He was so close to achieving what he came for...

    Assuming Anne was still alive.

    With care he slipped below deck, despite the fact that the celebrating pirates would likely be too far gone in their revelry to hear him. David could certainly hear them as he approached, they were singing at the top of their lungs and stomping their feet. Their noise was enough that he didn't hear three pirates coming up from the hold until they stepped up off the stairs in front of him.

    "Whats this?" One crowed, astonished, "some rat has crawled up from the bilge!"

    Around them the ship groaned against the swell of the storm. David pointed the still flaming blade at them and watched as the three pirates jumped back from the unnatural sword.

    "I'll only ask once, where are the kidnaped women?" David demanded.

    "In- in the the me- mess," The pirate stuttered, "up in the stern."

    "Thank you," David said coldly before he swung the sword through the air, green fire again springing up to consume the three unfortunate souls.

    Turning away from the sight, David strode towards the front of the ship. He paused outside the door of the room and peered inside. The pirates were seated around a table toasting themselves and feasting, the women seated against the far wall bound and gagged.


    What he did next I cannot speak of. But he proved the power of that sword to do terrible things was greater than any other weapon they could raise against him and at the end of it, not one of those pirates would see the sun rise again.

    David went over to the group of women and they shrank down among each other. He grabbed Anne around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder, holding her with one hand and the flaming sword with the other. The other women cried through their gags and struggled against their bonds, but David paid them no heed as he left.

    He carried Anne quickly up to the deck and set her down so he could free her. Her eyes were wide and weepy as she looked at him and her dress was dirty but she seemed to be otherwise unharmed. David took a little knife from his belt and cut the ropes binding her hands and feet. At once she shoved him away from her and crawled away backwards.

    "Anne! Its alright! Its me David!" He cried.

    She jerked the rag from her mouth and spat at him, "Monster! You you are not David! My David was a kind and gentle man, he would never... He would never..." She trailed off, staring at the still forms of the two watchmen cut down by his sword.

    David looked to where her gaze led and frowned, scowling, "Anne those were PIRATES! You can't possibly have any pity for them!" He shouted at her, anger burning beneath his skin.

    "You MURDERED them!" Anne shrieked, "they begged you for mercy and you ran them through like they were nothing!"

    "I can't believe you are defending them!" He roared, grabbing her by the wrists, "Do you have any idea what it cost me to come free you?!"

    "Let me GO!" Anne yelled. She threw herself back, breaking free from him but losing her balance. She hit the gunwale with such force that it carried her over the edge. With a scream she fell, her back bowed at an angle unnatural to man as it hit the water and with that she was forever lost to Davy Jones.

    "ANNE! ANNE!" David screamed, clinging to the side of the ship as he looked for any sign of her in the churning gray water below but finding none. He wept as he continued to scream.

    Everything he had done had been for nothing now.

    Around him the thunder rumbled quietly and David felt a chill crawl up his spine. Looking about for the cause, he saw between the lightning flashes the shadows on the ship twisted and grew, the old man from the woods stepping out of them. The fear from before was gone now, replaced by burning rage.

    "YOU!" David bellowed, pointing the sword at him, "You LIED!"

    The Devil smiled, "you only bargained to take Anne back from the pirates, not to keep her."

    David felt his face go white as the blood rushed from it, realizing his mistake. Then the fury took hold of him again. With a howl David charged him and swung down with his burning sword. The Devil caught it single handed and unscathed without looking away from David's now horrified face.

    "How disappointing. Is that how you repay someone for their gift?" He jerked the blade out of David's hand and flung it away in the direction of Isla Tormenta.

    David dropped to the deck of the ship as the weight of his actions fell on him and made his legs go weak.

    "Please... please ha- have mercy," David wailed.

    The Devil threw back his head and laughed with the thunder, "I have no need to kill you boy. Your soul is already mine."


    The Blade of the Abyss.

    Its power took what little darkness was in David's heart and fed it until it consumed him. So beware all you that seek this sword, for finding it may mean loosing your self.


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