Hellis

Rum and Madness

There were a few things that he hated in this world. Horace hated not getting paid, he hated snot nosed, better then you attitudes and he absolutely loathed going into a mission blind. The latter was his current predicament. Something had stirred in the Havannan port, and it had spooked the local sources. But when the Torn Sails came and looked, there had been nothing. Or at least that's what they had thought at first. But a very astute observation from on of the locals had put them on the trail of something, something dangerous and big. A living idol of sorts from the sound of it. A avatar of a old one? By hecates six tits, that was bad news.

So the swedish born, trough battle and gutters raised privateer had travelled across the spanish main to new orleans in pursuit of leads on this strange rumor. And tihs something had apparently stolen away on a boat across the ocean. Of course, the Torn Sails could just not sail into port without a flag to their name and with a black ship armed with more cannons then any vessel its size. They were considered pirates by the missinformed after all. So they stove away in a cove and it was Horace who had to trek trough the bayou into town, luckily he had a guide. The entire swamps gave him shivers something terrible, there was something strange about it. The foul gasses of rotten plants and trees that seemed to twist in unatural shapes had seemingly stretched after him. He wasn't sure what was going on just yet, but if there was a cult present he would find out. And then he would do what he did best.

As he trekked into the town two men coats decided to stop his passage into town. A tall, mangy one stepped forward. By the hat and the robust robe he was the city guard. A peasant given rang and prestige for shooting natives and rebellious slaves no doubt.

“You.” The man spoke, his accent was far to crisp to be from around here. He must have arrived from the northern parts, possibly to reinforce the Garrison with all the rumors about british ships sailing about in the Spanish main.

“Ye'?” Horace stopped, he didn't look like a pirate per say. He was well groomed, he had scars sure but he was a sailor in dangerous waters after all. But his clothes were clean and his equipment in top shape. His handsome mug was contorted in a knowing smile as the two sized him up. He had spotted a third far off with a muscet. Bog bandits posing as city guards, or perhaps city guards with light pockets?

“What are you doing out in the swamps lad?” 'Lad', so the tall guard was a limey who had switched sides it seemed. Time to crack this little two man Barricade before they started to ask the wrong questions. But the Brit was faster, and spoke impatiently and with a tone Horace didn't care much for. But it clued him in, they were city guard allright, they had taken gone to scout most likely, and seen Horace. Figured him a easy way to get some padding for the poor pockets. “Well, don't just stand there! Answer!” He demanded.

“Big ol' black ship out in the Fransica Cove.” Horace reached within his shirt as he spoke, the two guards exchanged nervous glances. Clearly the ship had been spotted on it's detour. “Easy Boyos, I got a crown Sigil and a bit of silver for, should you to let me past. And If you don't then I'll just shank you both where you stand. You let me get to close, your rifles won't be up in time. You have to rely on those pigstickers you call swords. And my falchion is better.” He shrugged, he had been on the sea for far to long to care. Killing was nothing new, men were just men and men bled to death.

“Nice and clean kills, except for piggy.” He eyed the two men, the 'piggy' was a young stout and well fed man who had been growing increasingly nervous in the presence of this undoubtedly unpleasant man infront of them. But they also realized they had been had, they were not any sort of upstanding citizens, and undoubtedly thought they could press a lone pirate on information and money before doing away with him in the swamps. Sigil or not, these were thugs and as likely to blackmail the poorer people of the outer city border if they could.

“Ye' gonna go for yer toothpicks already? Or am I gonna get to walk?” He said slowly. The brit frooze up first, he was ready to fight to death now that the target was being aggressive. Admirable but foolhardy. The tall islander swung in a wide arch, a angry and clumsy move. There was a split second reaction from the Torn Sails privater as he ducked low and unceremoniously punched the man square between the legs. The 'piggy' fell backwards in mute terror while his 'brave' companion crumbled the ground with a whimper. It had been a good hit, the guard seemed to have blacked out from the sheer amounf of pain. No wonder, the more experienced Horace had punched with the metal hilt in what was a terribly unapologetic and clean hit.

“No use killing you fools. Here is my sigil.” He showed the waxsealed piece of paper for the still whimpering and crumbled excuse of a man. Not that it mattered now.

It read:
On the mission of the ruling body of the Free American States, this individual has proven himself a loyal servant of the country and is a pardoned and sanctioned privateer flying under American flag.

Of course, it was a superiorly made fake. But nobody could really tell, he had fooled spies and officials more then once. The Torn sails was of course, known by most of the people who's water they patroled, but there were people with dubius intentions that would rather all the different cult hunters went away, no matter how secretive they were.

And so the tall, blonde pirate strode into town. Now to steer his steps to somewhere he could have a drink or two.

Rum and Madness

I just now realized I had forgotten to add a appearence part of the profile! Feel free to add that.

In the meanwhile I found a reference for what Horace look like.

Pic

or

Pic

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

His words had failed to properly reach the ears of others, it had not come to much of a shock to him. Beings older them him were instilled with a stubborn belief of perpetual self worth. The giant showed no romorse, no real waver. Oh how infurating this all was. Of course they would not follow by his words alone. They had never known Max, and they all had their own doubts and fears. They all had agendas, every single one of them. And was henry any better? Of course not, he had joined the company to protect himself from someone. But it didn't stop the cold anger from swelling up inside his heart, a tidal wave of emotion that wanted to snare the giant in words of power and force him to kneel before them. Of course, he didn't because the Giant, while obtrusive and blunt, was not of ill will. He simply looked after himself, he merely worked for the company and even though he was likely wrong about Hoyles conviction towards his employees Henry. But words were wasted now. He let others speak their piece as he felt strangely exhausted at his own inability.

The Dryad spoke shortly after him and his concerns was most understandable, there needed to be some sort of guarante. Henry listened carefully, he himself wondered about the specifics regarding this whole deal. Atticus had been somewhat vague with Henry, and he wasn't to keen on being kept in the dark. Especially not by his best friend and the one person who he trusted with all his heart.

The words of the necromancer was next and Henry paid her no mind what so ever. It was more of the same. And the dragon spoke after that, her stubborn adherence to the rules was admirable if a bit misplaced at the moment. Henry almost felt bitter about the whole thing. It was around this time Daisy decided that enough was enough and Henry felt a wave of pity and sadness hit him, they were dragging that girl trough so much muck and trouble with this it wasn't even funny anymore. He wanted to help, but Veti was there before he could act. Veti who just had shared what seemed to be heartbreaking words with Siya. Fates were disentangling and entwining freely it seemed. A sign of great upheaval if he ever saw one.

And as if on cue, the heavies of weights on the scales of fate appeared. A goddess. Isis.

Now there was a name and a being he never thought he'd ever have the chance to meet or see in the flesh. The ancient goddess shone, shone like beacon amongst the myriad of fluctuating and fleeting auras and minds. She was overpowering and the Näck tried not to grin at Atticus reaction to the Goddess entrence. It was a good thing he was a being of the elements, or this meeting would be to much for him. It seemed that her presence swayed some, but clearly not all present. That said, Veti obviously went for that tiny sliver of hope the Ankh represented and Siya went to the side of the Incibus. And Mila, suprisingly went with Veti, a desert was no place for a water spirit, Henry cought himself shaking his head.

“I am apperntly needed elsewhere.” Henry mumbled to himself.

“If you need my aid old friend, you know I got your back Atticus.”

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

he said he was seeking the ankh, and from what I understood, it's in Egypt.

Nvm, he said he'd go with someone, Atticus I think.

Rum and Madness

Feel free to unite people if you can ;D.

I don't plan to do so just yet myself. Horace is about to start some trouble for himself however.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

lovely post. I believe i need to start writing now.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PRODUCTIVE.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Damnit Heroes, I am now looking at middle eastern models. They are mad pretty :I

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

I mean they probably made her face a lot lighter in skintone, and smoothed out her face unaturally. She proboly looks even better without the photoshop *pat pat*

The Heavens Aflame - A Civil War Amongst the Deities

Post should come up tommorow