POOHEAD189

Gold & Glory: AU thread

"We won't be able to outrun them!" A man cried, though not in despair. Clearly he didn't have the inkling of a fear Markus did. The Captain stretched out a hand to his left, signifying Morgan should approach him. As the shape of the sails became visible to even the short sighted among them, he told Morgan to send eight of the men below decks to man the guns. As Morgan to went to give the orders, Markus added an after thought. "Don't open the hatches yet. Open them when we're abreast of them."

The following minutes moved swiftly, Markus stalking around the ship to maintain a semblance of command for any eyes on their decks. His eyes sometimes fell on where Emmaline hid, but she always ducked down at just the last second not to be seen. The woman saw the shirtless, big Norscan, bald and heavily bearded, carrying up a barrel from below decks with ne'er a grunt before moving to the aft castle. The next time she looked back at the approaching Caravel, she saw something that would freeze the blood of any sailor.

Those weren't Brettonians. They were strange beings, with sickly pale skin and ethereal stature. Wearing jagged and spiked pauldrons and bracers and wielding wicked sabers of black metal, their elongated, screaming faces was something out of a nightmare. On the Brettonian sail, a bloodstained symbol of the dark lady was streaked along its once proud fabric. Even Markus felt himself a bit too afraid at what this meant. He had never seen Druchii, but he had heard stories in the backalley taverns and seedy messhalls late in the night. They were slavers and torturers, never leaving any survivors. That last bit had Markus grinning. "Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?" He breathed.

Suddenly, all seemed lost. They dark elves outnumbered them two to one, and each Druchii was likely worth two or more of the Imperial sailors when it came to combat. A nameless fear began to creep along the decks of the Hammer as their ships now slowly approached one another like old lovers rekindling their passions. Mad laughter and jesting in their strange tongue erupted from the Druchii ship, thinking the Hammer fooled by their ploy until it was too late, and hooked were shot from ingenious crossbows that themselves were hooked along the railings of their ship, embedding into the wood of the sloop and slowly pulling the two ships together.

As the wood of the ships audibly complained, Markus held up his sword and shouted. "Underdeck fire!"

Suddenly, realizing too late that half the crew were below decks and not frightened up to, the dark elves watched as the gun doors swiveled open. Eight guns, four six pounders and four four pounders, aimed and ready, poked their barrels out of the hatches. The screams and warcries of the elves reached a crescendo before they were silenced by the deafening roars of the cannons gutting their ship in a cacophony of iron and gunpowder.

Running up the stairs of the aft castle, Markus found Halfdan holding the barrel of gunpowder. They had only one shot at this. The Captain unholstered his pistol, cocking it and giving the Norscan the nod. Once they renounced any allegiences to Chaos, the norscans weren't such bad folk. They lived, breathed, joked, and died like any man of the Old World. Halfdan had proven his strength and loyalty time and again and Markus waited for him to launch the barrel over the short distance to the Druchii vessel. To his surprise and distress, a lance of wood and steel from a javelin thrower was launched across the gap between the boats and pierced Halfdan in the stomach.

The big man cried out and dropped the barrel, Markus feeling a pang of regret and loss at the fallen man now on the ground, writhing in pain. Markus caught the barrel before it hit the ground and busted along the aft castle thankfully, but as hard muscled as he was, he couldn't hope to throw it.

"Go!" the Norscan said, holding the shaft of the weapon stuck in him. At least it was remade Brettonian steel and not Dark Elf steel, or else it would have eaten away at his body like acid. Markus gave him and nod and readjusted the barrel in his grip, holding the heavy thing by the rope entwined around it and finding a rigging rope. As he put a booted foot on the rail, he saw the first dark elves leaping over the abyss of the sea like dancers, swords and spears twirling in an almost mesmerizing way. The first of his men were cut down, and even pistol shots killed them maybe every other time due to their master crafted armor, but soon the men below decks streamed upwards and flanked the dark elves, turning the massacre into an all out brawl.

Markus took in a deep breath, wrapped the rope around his right hand, and let himself swing over to the Brettonian vessel. He lazily floated above them, seeing a few of the dark elves look up and notice him in their strange eyes before he dropped the barrel just atop their deck. One dark elf slashed at the barrel on instinct, but it only helped Markus pick his target as he aimed his pistol at the gunpowder that had spilled from it.

Needless to say, the explosion engulfed half the Brettonian deck, and Markus was lost in the fire and smoke.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

Markus had made his way on deck with the rest of the others just as they had called for the ship, eyes peeled on the horizon. He couldn't believe how fast that other ship was moving, and it caused murmurs amongst his crew. No Brettonian sailors moved like that, nor would their ship. But the ship certainly looked like a caravel. As the men stood there stunned, frozen as if by some spell, Markus unsheathed his sword. "I said nor'west!"

The crew leaped into action like a dog that had just been kicked. The younger man, a stow away named Oskar who had earned his keep over the last years amongst the crew, shimmied yet again up the mainsail to the crow's nest. The Captain needed to reward him with a pint once they hit the port. Markus gave Emmaline a look as Morgan approached, gauging whether or not if she was excited to be rescued or scared of being tossed onto another ship like a hooked fish.

"Looks like they're deciding for us, lad."

"Makes me job easier." Markus quipped, taking out the telescope again and watching the caravel approach. His quartermaster was right, of course. The ship was no longer curious. It was making its way toward them as quickly as possible. Brettonians knights might be honor-bound fools, but normal ship captains didn't have this sort of bravado. Not to mention it was making all speed to a (supposedly) Imperial vessel that had nothing to give it save loot.

"Von Morganstern. Get below decks." Markus said, not looking back at her. Whether she followed his orders or not, he didn't have time to notice.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

"What do you think?" Morgan asked Markus.

The Captain held the teliscope up to his eye, lingering on the image of sails in the distance. Even with the device, he couldn't tell hide nor hair of what it meant. The ship was just on the edge of vision, so the colors couldn't even be deciphered yet. Morgan's eyes weren't what they used to be, but Markus couldn't do much better. Which meant he had three choices; approach and risk it being a foreigner warship, flee and lose a potential catch, or act as if they had seen nothing and continue on their current course which could lead to either of the other two outcomes.

He slid the telescope into its more portable form with a 'clack,' handing it to Morgan. He handed it to the quartermaster, who took it without question as Markus weighed his options.

"We already have enough, lad." He reminded Markus, placing a hand on his shoulder. "These men have served you well. I say we head on back and act as if we saw nothing."

Markus shook his head, dissatisfied with that even if it went against better judgement. It could be another haul. The sloop wasn't large but they still had a few tons left on their capacity. "Morgan, we've just left the law. We're not even recognized as official pirates yet by the Pirate Lords, and we need that acknowledgement to get any good deals on our merchandise. We don't have the food to sail to the new world." No Captain or crew in history (as far as Markus knew) formed and caught two prizes in less than a fortnight. They would earn the respect of any would-be wretch that called themselves pirates if they pulled that off.

"Well, we are a sloop I suppose." the elder said, scratching his black beard. "We run into trouble we can outmaneuver most anything. Either way, we got an hour before we really need to decide anything."

The door that led to the deck burst open, and Brod stepped out on deck holding his hand. Markus turned and saw his shirt was stained and his eyes were blazing with fury. "Oi, Captain! I got a bone to pick with our new lady cook!"

---

Five minutes later.

Markus had cleared the messhall and kept Morgan on deck with the lads to keep themselves busy and distracted. Capocuoco and Brod stood there along with Emmaline who he noticed did her best to look like the innocent party. Markus wasn't in the mood, but it was his job to parley in such circumstances. Still Brod clutched his hand, dunking it in cold water every now and then on the table. Morbidly curious, Markus looked between all of them.

"So Brod, what did you say happened?"

"That stinkin' trollop whacked me on the hand and I burned meself!" He said, in the most childish fashion Markus thought possible for a career sailor. "She should have stayed in the brig with the others! The food's been lackin' and she's given us nothing but lip since we got 'er." Capocuoco tried to speak, but Markus could only understand about three words he said, sprinkling in reikspeil as if that was the key to relaying what he thought.

Markus crossed his arms and actually smiled, and to Brod's surprise he laughed. It was a cruel laugh, but a farcry from his usual threatening or grim demeanor. "No fault of your own there, I take it? Why are you bringing me in on this? Because she's a woman?" Markus snorted. He grabbed the bowl and yanked it away from Brod's hand, causing the man to jump. "If this was Eckard you'd have laughed about it after a good tussle."

"You said we can't touch her!"

"You can't," Markus warned, all humor gone. "And if you were polite like I'm sure you weren't, she wouldn't have hit you. Get back up there and act like a man or I'll make you as manly as Eugene." The Captain advanced on Brod who scrambled out of the room, tripping over a chair and busting his lip on the floor. Impressively, he got up without missing a beat and launched himself through the doorway and up the stairs.

"So..." Markus said to Emmaline. "At least you still got some spunk in you. Don't press your luck, though. Things can happen on a ship that even a Captain won't be privvy to."

Gold & Glory: AU thread

Markus smirked at her manner. He could guess she wasn't telling him everything, but how much or what he couldn't tell. Still, he wasn't used to executing prisoners unless they were chaos spawn and he found her endearing in an odd sort of way, even past her looks. He'd spent so much time trying to keep up appearances, watching her do the same made him feel a certain irony about his current station in life.

"Well Miss Von Morganstern, we have ourselves an accord." The attractive man remarked, pushing his chair back, scraping the floor audibly. Almost casually, he began to unhook his hammock as she continued to eat her fill. "Once we make berth at Sartosa, you can send your beloved a letter by bird and you can wait while me and the lads conduct our business." Sliding the bits of rope over his arm, he tossed the fabric over his shoulder and stepped over to her, grabbing her dainty forearm. The ship rocked sleepily as the woman was hauled out of the chair, rum bottle still in her hand.

"What-?" He heard the woman stammer, stumbling over her words just as much as she stumbled with her feet, being dragged if need be out of the Captain's cabin and down the hall. The lights were warm and inviting. If she wasn't being dragged by a pirate captain, it almost looked romantic.

"Trust me, you'll want me to make this announcement." He told her, within moments kicking open the door to the mess hall like he owned the ship. Which he did. The men were gathered round laughing and playing a Tilean cardgame and knucklebones While Morgan stood watch beside the door to the kitchen, no doubt making sure the cook was doing his job. All at once the men turned, eyes widening at the sudden appearance of their captain and the lovely Emmaline being held by the arm, both with flushed faces from all the alcohol they had downed.

"How'd she treat you, Captain?" Frankfurt called.

"Bit of a handful, but nothing I haven't dealt with before." Markus joked, grinning like he was a cat toying with a mouse. He thrust her arm in the air with his own as he declared. "I'm not here about that. I'm here about how she'll treat you!"

Cheers erupted from the men, the cards and knucklebones forgotten almost immediately. Showcased by Eckard moving a few of the pieces while the others concentrated on Markus. Only a single crew member, a balled man, eyed him.

"Seems we've a new cooking assistant! I have a feeling she won't be that good at it, but a woman's got to make her way in the world, eh? Though that brings me to my fine crew. Within a fortnight, we'll find out if she's worth anything. That means that until we hear otherwise, she's worth her weight in gold. That also means, until I say she's otherwise, she's part of the crew. She gets all the same privileges you lot get." He grew more sober as he spoke. "That also means you're not to touch her. And when I say that-" His free hand took one of his pistols out of the baldric on his breast, cocking it and pointing it at the crew's direction. Their mirth subsided quickly. "-I mean it. Any man what touches her, I cut off what you used to touch her. Any man do more than that, and you owe me and the crew her weight in gold, or I'll carve it out of you."

"H-her weight in gold?" A man asked.

Markus eyed Emmaline and grinned, not lecherously, but with more than a hint of mischief. It was clear he had the crew hanging on his every word. He certainly had the personality of a charismatic captain. It was clear Markus simply said his next phrase to mess with Emmaline. "I'd say that's about two hundred pounds, yeah?"

"Her tits are half the weight!" One man laughed and the others roared in approval. Markus motioned for a bald man to approach him. It was the Eunuch, Eugene. The men had made more than their share of jokes on the alliteration, but he was respected by being the only man trusted watching the loot save Morgan and Markus himself. As Eugene stepped over, Markus whispered in Emmaline's ear. "I'll have that dress by tomorrow. Be happy I'm not having you take it off now."

"Aye Captain?" Eugene said with a salute.

"Take our new crew member to her quarters and show her how to set up the hammock." He ordered, tossing the man the hammock. Eugene caught it with an 'oof', confusion marring his face.

"Her quarters?" He remarked incredulously.

"The closet in the cargo deck."
@Penny

Gold & Glory: AU thread

Markus looked at her long and hard after her little quip, a look that would send most of his men running even if they caught him on the privvy when he made it. He'd been blessed with a penetrating gaze ever since he was a boy, and he merely grew into the man that could back up any silent threat from his look. He was about to tell her to go and find 'berth' elsewhere, meaning she was dismissed to sleep on the deck or jump overboard, but Reeve with the dessert interrupted his thoughts.

He wasn't entirely sure if she could speak Tilean or if she just knew that from having been aboard the same man's ship, but she was here for another few days if not a week, depending on the weather. He'd find out. Gingerly he reached down and picked up a spoon that was embedded into his custard and decided to taste the dish. It certainly smelled good. He had a bit of custard and then the pudding, the sugar sticking to his taste buds warmly after having his fair share alcohol.

"The attack on the ship was worth it for this cook." He commented, letting it slide down his throat. As he continued to eat, he began with. "So, Lady Von Morganstern. Since this man...Vissendorf? Isn't guaranteed to pay any sizeable ransom, I need to figure out what to do with you. Maybe the cook's assistant. As good as this is I'm sure he's doing this to stay alive and he won't have this kind of energy forever. If you're not up to the task, we could sell you or at least the dress."

While all were viable options, he mostly wanted to see how she reacted. She'd given him very little in the way of options or promises so far.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

Markus felt her finger along his scar and was momentarily confused as to how to continue. Two years ago he was in hearty taverns and flirting up women on campaign, and many of them flirted in return by touching his scars. But he was a captain now...of pirates. She was confusing him now more than any decision he'd had to make with his new command. He grabbed her hand as she commented on how he slew the captain of the Poxed Whore, about to question her on what she was getting at when she spilled the wine all along the table!

"Sigmar's balls!" he cursed, too distracted to catch the bottle but with enough frame of mind to grab the neck of it and set it down rightly before the entire contents of it had emptied onto the mahogany desk and the floor. He snapped his gaze away from her, surprised he let himself be distracted by such a clumsy woman like he was the boy back on Helmsfurt a decade ago. "What the hell, woman?" Luckily he had some cloth and a flagon of water to dilute the liquid, wiping it off the table. It didn't seem to have stained anything on the table, but he'd need to see it in daylight to be sure.

"This is mahogany! And this is expensive Tilean wine for Ranald's sake!" He didn't sound murderously mad like one might expect, more annoyed. With a grunt he opened the back window and tossed the wine soaked rag out into the sea, slamming the window shut. With that he sat down again, shaking his head. Gone was the man who looked like he was going to murder her after the next word, replaced by the young traveler he tried to hide.

Still, he cut the figure of a captain as he pinched the bridge of his nose, lounging on the big chair across from her like a hunting cat.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

He honestly wasn't sure if this was an act or not, though if it was an act, he didn't know why she would admit to not being privvy to how much she would be worth. He finished another sip of the bottle and set it down as she spoke, and his dark eyes that usually were on point couldn't help but watch the fabric go taut over her enchanting bosom. He caught himself staring as if mesmerized by a spell, and blinked it away. He tried to think of what she continued with and caught back on like the crack of a whip.

"Interesting..." He mused, acting as if he had never slipped up at all. Reviewing her little speech, she had very little to give in words compared to what he had expected. He had thought she would gush out a confession or at least plead for her life, but instead she was either truly a damsel or playing on his soft heart, which actually lightened his mood a bit. So, she was purely innocent and being honest, or a scoundrel trying to get away with something. Both had endearing qualities to the young captain.

He looked at the desk in thought for a moment, his practicality warring against his conscience, and he was certainly his anatomy was in there somewhere messing up his better judgement. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Well," He began easily, sliding out of his chair to lean over the table, both hands on the lapels of the mahogany desk. His nose nearly touched hers as his dark eyes bored into her own. "I really can't tell if you're being honest or not, but if you're not, you're playing a dangerous game. Luckily I'm a dangerous man, so I can appreciate that."

Dungeon Builder Monster Extraordinaire

As I am geographically idiotic, I will go last.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

"And thank you for accepting it." He said, breaking off a chicken leg with a small snap. There was a sly grin as he joked. "I know you'd rather be anywhere else than here."

He was certain the men had given her a hard time, despite his warnings. Despite all of their earnings, most of the gold they would acquire would be after they made port on Sartosa or one of the islands off the west coast of Araby, so for now there was exultation with little to show for it. Markus took little time in consuming the chicken leg, and though he was a hard man, it was clear he had grown up in finer company. There was ne'er a mark on his cheek, and the rest was wiped away clean with one of the hand cloths he had at the ready. He downed an impressive amount of rum to wash down the meat, showing the scar that ran from his chin went clear down his neck. With a 'clink' he set the bottle down.

"Don't stand on ceremony here, miss Morganstern. I'm sure you're hungry and I'm not someone who's impressed with manners." He informed her, giving her some time to eat before he spoke next. "I'm impressed with skill, courage, and honesty, at least honesty to me. Which brings me to you..." He took a knife out, and though it clearly wasn't a kitchen implement, he let it sit in his hand for a moment before he took a potato and cut it in half, offering her one half with his left hand.

"If you're who you say you are, we'll have no problems. We can speak business, you can tell me your family history and how much they'd pay for you. Something I'm quite interested in. If you're not, I'll give you some advice. Tell me it now, and we can talk about who you really are. I'm sure you'd rather have me vouche for you than any of the other men, because they would want something in return. Frankly, the fact that you're sexy as all hell doesn't help you if you tell me there's money waiting for me when there's not."

It was clear Markus hadn't been this close to a beautiful woman in awhile, but he was like a dog on the hunt. He'd go after gold before anything else and there was little that could distract him from it. He also knew she was worried on where she'd find rest tonight, but truthfully he didn't trust her to sleep on the hammock while he slept in the cot, and he didn't think she'd want to share his bed. Not a lot of prisoners, particularly manhandled women had that on their minds after capture. He might kill her out of necessity but he wouldn't impugn her honor out of cruelty. He was cruel enough to those he'd killed today.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

The attack had happened a few hours past midday, so it was only a short time until the sun began to set. Of course, that was still a very long time for a prisoner on a pirate ship, even if one was allowed to walk freely. What the men had lacked in etiquette, they made up for in sailing ability. The ship moved like a Dwarf machine, every man a cog in the ever turning wheel. Even so, there was no shortage of leers and jeers at Emmaline as she moved about the ship. Only the other prisoners, the quartermaster, a bald man who one would have the sinking suspicion was a eunuch, and the captain who seemed more interested in seeing his ship make good time didn't gravitate towards her lewdly.

Markus on the otherhand had lifted spirits, smiling and congratulating his men while cracking down hard on any who were slacking off. He even walked with his sword out of its sheathe, though whether he was to stab anyone or simply look threatening, it was hard to tell. Though behind his back there were a few crewmembers who still joked about the Captain and the woman, even as a few others muttured over how the captain got the 'lions pick'. Markus was savvier than they gave him credit for, and only two of the dozen men held such sentiments. He was more interested in the ransom and making sure the woman was in one piece by the time she was put back on shore more than anything, though he was also curious. There was a glint in her eyes that made him want to question if she even was who she claimed she was. He'd find out tonight.

As the sun faded over the shimmering sea, the dinner bell tolled. Only two of the men were still on deck to keep the ship steady as the others swarmed down like a wave into the messhall for food. Markus had gotten his food brought up to his cabin before the bell had gone off, and now he finally let himself relax in the dim lighting of the lamps, a few sips of rum already down his throat.

The room was spartan for a Captain. In fact, it was small even for a room on the Poxed Whore. There was a desk and two chairs, each made of carved mahogany and richly colored in the lamplight. To the left was a cot, a horned norscan helmet hung above it. Behind the cot was a small chest of personal loot and items, and various paraphernalia from across the old world. Despite his fearsomeness, Markus was a sentimental sort.

Born in the Border Princes, a bastard of the ruler of a small hamlet. He grew up as a courtier and a household soldier until he was sixteen years of age, where he took all of the meager inheritance he was given and went south to Tilea, polishing the art of swordplay and even gaining the status as a student under the tutelage of a Brightwizard for a few months until he ran out of money. Joining a roving band of mercenaries, he fought in battles and laid siege to cities until the age of twenty two, going north to with a few lads and fighting across both Brettonia and the Empire before reaching Marienburg at the age of twenty five. Having spurned his wealth on both frivolous things and further sharpening his swordplay under different masters, he took to sailing. It is hardly surprising to say he took to it like a fish to water, and served two years on the Imperial scouting sloop The Hammer until just last week where he led a mutiny against the frugal and cruel captain 'Volstad Hammersbreadth.' Now he lounged in the dead man's cabin, atop the hammock that hung upon the right side of the room just beside a pistol hung on the wall and a small shelf of books. The Captain's had was on the back of the chair, and just as there was a knock on the door, he called.

"Come in."

She would have a good look at him sliding off the hammock and setting his rump on the mahogany chair, the smell of chicken, potatoes, apples, and alcohol wafted from the meal laid before them both.