Set Sail

Music while reading: [summer seas and salty wind (piratecore)]

An old sloop pirate ship embarked on a journey through the sea of Lerton. Its black sail proudly bore the visage of a grinning skeleton, its hollow eyes adorned with vibrant flowers. Twisting vines embraced the skull, adding a touch of wildness to the eerie display.

This sloop stood tall with a single mast that reached for the sky. Attached to it were two sails - one large and triangular, known as the main sail, and another at the front called the foresail.

At the heart of the ship, rising slightly above the deck, stood a crow's nest. This lookout perch provided a high vantage point for spotting any imminent dangers on the horizon.

This trusty old sloop had been in the captain's family for generations. It had weathered decades of voyages and battles, yet it stood resolute, swift through the waters, unlike the larger, more cumbersome ships.

Though modest in size and bereft of cannons, this vessel bore the marks of countless adventures, a living testament to the passage of time.

The captain, responsible for steering the ship, was clad in untarnished white trousers and a loose-collared shirt with slender stripes. Over his attire, he wore a long, weathered captain's jacket, and perched atop his head was a dark brown tricorn—a mark of his rank.

An aged brass revolver was secured at his waist, a trusty companion on his maritime endeavors.

His eyes, the same hue as the sea on a clear day, held a sharp, commanding gaze. Dark azure locks cascaded down his back.

As the wind gained strength, it wrested control from the small pirate ship. He stood firm at the helm, hands on the tiller, steering with determination.

As the sloop struggled to ride the long, foreboding waves, a spray of seawater breached her defenses, leaving the deck slick and gleaming. The wind, now a relentless force, howled through the rigging, its fury unchecked.

In the distance, bolts of lightning split the sky, casting an eerie brilliance upon the beleaguered pirate ship. Though the sun still held its place in the heavens, the encroaching darkened clouds turned day into night, shrouding the vessel in an unnatural twilight.

He leaned into the tiller, turning it to port. This motion caused the rudder at the ship's stern to swing to port as well, altering the ship's course to the left.

He called out to his sole crewmate, a woman named Mary, "OIII, MARY, REEF THE MAIN SAILS FAST!"

Mary, garbed in a flowing white robe and a matching tricorn, bellowed in response, "AY AY CAPTAIN!"

Swiftly, she scaled the rigging, securing the lines with a practiced hand. As the sail tautened against the relentless gales, she stood poised, awaiting further orders.

Her luscious indigo tresses billowed in the wind.

With Mary's adept assistance, the ship's handling improved, granting the captain greater control amid the tempestuous weather.

As the fierce wind and harsh elements relented, he signaled for Mary to join him, a motion she heeded promptly.

He clapped her shoulder with hearty approval. "Good job, lass. Now, go check our navigation."

Mary never liked being called 'lass' or given nicknames by any pirate. She had a name, and she'd prefer to be called by it.

Mary gave his shoulder a playful somewhat annoyed shove. "Jack, don't call me lass."

With compass and charts in hand, she ensured their course remained true.

Jack, the captain, shifted his gaze to the helm, preparing to guide them through the tumultuous waves. "Hurry it up, lass. Patience isn't me strong suit."

Mary's brow furrowed, but she swiftly responded, "All clear, captain. And remember, not 'lass'."

Jack chuckled, then grew serious, meeting her gaze. "Good job, Mary."

"Anything else, captain?" she inquired, her manner as steadfast as ever.

"For now, nothing. Retreat to the cabin and have a drink or two."

A smile graced Mary's lips, for it had been too long since she savored a sip of spirits. "Ay ay, captain."

...

Two hours of relentless battle with the fickle weather, the skies shifting from azure to brooding gray, and the wind howling its ever-changing tune, they finally approached the welcoming embrace of an island.

"Lass, drop the anchor, let's take a well-earned respite," he commanded, his voice as gruff as the worn planks beneath them.

With a determined nod, she swiftly made her way to the bow, deftly releasing the anchor. It plummeted into the depths, finding purchase on the ocean floor.

As the ship gently swayed to a stop, yielding only to the subtle dance of the waves, the captain's eyes surveyed their newfound haven.

"This looks like a promising land, wouldn't ye say, Mary?" he remarked, a glint of optimism in his gaze.

Mary's response was swift and candid. "It's a bit dull, captain. There's nary a tavern in sight."

The captain chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Fear not, lass. We've a plenty of spirits aboard."

With a hearty laugh, Jack added, "Alright, let's see what this island has to offer. Bring the sake along, haha!"

Once more, a gleeful smile illuminated Mary's face at the mere mention of spirits. "Alright, captain!"

She swiftly made her way to the cabin, retrieving a small wooden barrel which she tossed into the sea below. In one fluid motion, she followed, arms outstretched before tucking in to dive, clutching the barrel close.

Jack, the captain, wasted no time and joined her in the plunge. As he surfaced above water, he noticed Mary struggling with the barrel, so he swam over to offer his aid.

Together, they managed to bring the barrel ashore on the sandy beach of the spacious island.

Above, the sky stretched clear and the sun beat down with a fervent warmth, the dive serving to refresh them both. For Mary, still a touch tipsy from her day of revelry, it was a welcome reprieve.

"Mary, this may well be the very land of treasures my father spoke of, ye know," Jack remarked, his gaze sweeping appreciatively across the island's expanse.

Though Mary's attention was somewhat distant, she nodded in response. Her skepticism towards Jack's tale was ever present, but her need for adventure and Nords led her to accept his offer.

Nord, the basic currency of these seas, held value just shy of the coveted gold coins. Aye, twenty Nords for a single gold piece, and it was with these gleaming coins that fortunes were made and fates decided.

As they set up on the vibrant sea-grass, Jack issued his orders, "Ay, Mary, go fetch two wooden cups, my trusty machete and my leather pouch."

With a nod, Mary swiftly waded into the water, her strokes strong and purposeful. She ascended the ship's ladder with ease, entering the dock to retrieve the requested items.

As she resurfaced, she made her way to Jack, offering the cups, the gleaming machete and his leather pouch. He accepted it with a grateful nod.

With 'practiced precision', Jack swung the blade, 'expertly' cutting through the tall grass surrounding them. His slashes were swift and 'sure', creating a comfortable spot to sit.

However, one swing went awry, coming perilously close to Mary. She let out a startled scream, fearing for her leg. In her panic, she delivered a swift smack to Jack's head.

"Lass, it was an accident. Ye're fine, it didn't strike ye," Jack reassured, rubbing his head.

"Blblblbl," Mary mockingly imitated, her playful retort echoing across the island.

"Have a drink, will ya? It'll make ye calm," Jack offered, uncorking the small barrel of sake.

Mary's smile widened as she deftly positioned the two wooden cups.

He poured the sake, filling the cups with the warm, amber liquid, then closed the barrel with a satisfied nod. Taking one cup, he clinked it against Mary's.

"Cheers," Jack toasted.

"Cheers, Captain!" Mary chimed, her voice full of mirth.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of gold and crimson, Jack rose from his spot in the sand.

"Mary, care to sleep here?" he inquired.

In her tipsy state, Mary giggled and replied, "Yer captain, yer... yeeer."

With purposeful movements, Jack dug a small hole in the sand, preparing the fire pit. He scoured the area, gathering dry tinder and suitable pieces of wood.

Arranging them in a careful pyramid shape, he nestled the tinder at the heart of it all, ready to ignite.

With a swift motion, he drew his flint and steel from his trusty leather pouch, striking them together.

Clang Clang

Sparks danced and ignited the tinder. Jack leaned in, arms cradling the nascent flame, blowing gently to coax it into a more robust fire.

As the fire grew stronger, its warm glow painting the night, Jack turned his attention to Mary, who lay sprawled out in a contented stupor. With a deft movement of his leg, he nudged her.

"Come closer to the fire," he urged.

Without rising, Mary used her hands to shuffle herself closer, the dance of flames reflecting in her eyes.

Spotting her wooden cup, still harboring a sip of sake, she snatched it up and downed it in one swift motion.

Jack couldn't help but chuckle. "Yer want more?"

Mary burped, a satisfied grin on her face. "No, captain," she declared, eyelids heavy with weariness.

As the fire crackled and danced, casting a protective glow around them, Mary settled in, ready to embrace the arms of sleep.

Being the sole crew member, excluding the captain, took its toll. The physical demands were far greater than what the captain faced, steering and issuing commands. It was a responsibility she wore with pride, even as it weighed on her.

Jack, brimming with energy, sought to channel his vigor into exploration. With a steady hand, he retrieved his trusty old revolver from his waist, and the well-worn machete that rested in the sand. With purpose in his stride, he ventured into the heart of the forest.

His father's final words echoed through his mind like a guiding compass, An island in the sea of Lerton holds a significant treasure, a prize eluding all but the most steadfast of pirates. If I fail to find it, you must carry on the journey.

As he delved deeper into the forest, the symphony of nature enveloped him. The chorus of insects, the chatter of small creatures, and the distant calls of monkeys painted a vivid auditory landscape.

The darkness and untamed wilderness held no sway over him; after all, he was a pirate, a captain with his own ship, yet the allure of Nord and Gold still beckoned.

With each swing of his machete, he forged a path through the dense underbrush, determined to unveil the secrets this island held.

Amidst the rustling leaves and snapping branches, he mused, If this is indeed the island my father spoke of, I'll emerge from its shores not as an anonymous pirate, but as a legend. With treasures aplenty, sake flowing like the sea, and a crew fit for a king, aye, a crew of twelve loyal souls at my side.

The seasoned pirate pondered briefly on the island's potential significance, although his many voyages had tempered any lingering excitement. This sea, the vast expanse of Lerton, had seen him explore countless shores, in the hopes of finding the treasure.

His life at sea oscillated between roles, from being a humble crewmember, laboring under the command of others to accrue Nords, to seizing the helm as captain, deploying those hard-earned coins to enlist a lone willing soul for a singular voyage across the expanse of Lerton's waves.

It was a well-known truth that not every soul yearned for the weighty mantle of a ship's duties. Men sought greater fortunes, and with it, more Nords in their coffers. Women, on the other hand, often sought a less encumbered life, which made them more amenable to his hiring.

For the sixth time, Mary stood as his chosen companion in this age-old dance with the sea. Her patience wore thin, for these escapades bore little fruit in the way of treasure or merriment. They lacked the allure of bustling taverns and the gleam of golden rewards, leaving her weary of these seemingly futile endeavors.

After getting lost in the dark, he carefully placed the machete on the ground, retrieving a piece of cloth, flint and steel, and a small container of oil, reminiscent of a tiny wooden barrel.

He located a sturdy piece of wood, wrapped the cloth around it, and generously applied the oil. After securing his belongings, he used the flint and steel to ignite the makeshift torch.

As the flames danced and cast their flickering light, he retrieved his machete and ventured forth. After a brief walk, he spotted an entrance just a few meters ahead.

It was an archway crafted from moss-covered stone. Beyond it lay an open expanse, centered around a large roaring fireplace. Small humanoid figures, their faces concealed by masks reminiscent of the Aztec, cavorted around the flames.

Each of these creatures wore these enigmatic masks, leaving only their diminutive, shadowed limbs visible.

Jack's astonishment was palpable. This was unlike any island he had encountered before. It stirred a hope within him that he might have finally stumbled upon the very treasure his father had spoken of. No other island boasted inhabitants like these.

He cautiously took a step forward, his intention to observe and wait for the creatures to disperse before exploring and, well, potentially "acquiring" any treasure that might be present.

However, his anticipation was abruptly shattered as a searing pain lanced through the crown of his head. With a sudden, violent jolt, he crumpled to the verdant floor, consciousness slipping away.

{{I encourage you to read Author's Thoughts}