1st Shot - Stealing a Goddess
Cotton like clouds of steam poured into the pure blue sun lit sky, accompanied by the whistles and hisses of churning engines and grinding gears as a large water bound vessel of gleaming chrome and bronze pushed through the wading tides of the deep blue ocean, leaving a foamy wake in its trail. It was a large Galleon class ship, sporting massive sales which gently billowed in the breeze and large burgundy paddle wheels on each side which spun sluggishly in the waters, propelling the massive craft forward. Just ahead, a colossal half dome shell of structures and docks, gaping like the maw of a titan waited to receive the large ship which was dwarfed in comparison. Lining the insides of the massive structure like misshapen fangs were metal scaffolding and catwalks which bridged between several overhanging cranes and pulley systems. Dusty and mossy spotlights littered the infrastructure, gently dangling in the oceans' draft on the ends of bronze cords.
Another plume of pillowy steam hissed out of silos across the top of the ship as its engines cooled. The paddle wheels eked to a halt. Ahead of the ship, sectioned off by docks made of brass and wood were a crowd of smaller boats and water faring craft all lined up in their own little spaces, held in place at the stern by gear bound mechanical arms with hands gloved in off-white rubber and stained with a layer of scum, rust, and moss. Water lapped against the sturdy metal legs of the dock as the large vessel grew closer. A mist of foam and sea water sprayed into the air as a pair of large brass mechanical arms rose from the water just below each side of the ship, wrapping their fingers around the stern of the boat and halting its motion. After a bit of jittering around and whining of creaky mechanisms, the gloved hands tugged the boat through the water and gently but sluggishly moved the ship into place along side the dock. A twelve foot tall man with three eyes, blue tinted skin and baggy worn out jeans held up by suspenders shambled over the the edge of the dock toeing a large metal canister over his shoulder. Sauntering up next to the new arrivals, the giant reached out With lanky arms, and was able to easily set the cylindrical container onto the ships deck. His sunken in face wore a mulish expression as he reeled back away from the ship, lumbering around for a bit before making his way back to the small dock house and squeezing himself inside.
"Attention passengers of the aurora Ferry, We have arrive at our destination of Runeria. If this is your destination, please make sure you have all your belongings and exit onto the docks on the port side of the ship. Welcome to the Relic Island!" Metal doors on the deck of the ship slid open, and a ramp extended off the left side of the ship, connecting with the boardwalk. On cue, a hustle and bustle of travelers of all creeds began to file off the ship.
"Kracken wonton!" "Fired seakhawk!" "Megalodon Miso!" As soon as the docks end, the coastal town of Port Runeria begins, along with the welcoming party of barters and merchants eager to catch the eye new customers among the flock of travelers.
"Only the best deals right off the boat!" "Mermaid pharamone extract! Smell just like the sexiest sirens!" "Wada wada royal dresses and night wear wada wada! Make men drool wada wada!" "Enchanted pearls! Guaranteed ten years of good luck!" Soon to follow is a bombardment to the senses as the sights, sounds and smells of the town greet those coming from the docks. The air was choked with the smells of frying fish and various food stands mixed in with the salty oceanic breeze. All around and above, a colorful display of patterns, posters, and decorations litter the storefronts and skies, strung up between lampposts and rickety buildings. Cobbled streets and alleys wind through the cluster of buildings, stands, and tents marking the pathways through the entire town.
Deeper into town, nestled snugly between a not so classy night club and the entrance to a rather large and crowded bazaar, laid a shabby wood and iron two story part bar, part motel known by the off center wooden sign dangling over the doors as the Leaky Grove Tavern. Inside the dimly lit confines of the muggy drinking hole, several patrons both new and old jostled and drank the stress of their travels away. Scantily clad waitresses glided between tables, doling out drinks while absently swatting away wandering hands and pinching fingers. Sounds of merry and music rang through the air as a quartet of musicians playing brass, strings, keys, and drums filled the tavern with a jazzy melody. The cloying scent of alcohol and perfume wafted about the tavern, which mixed with a twinge of sweat closer to the claustrophobic dance floor. Wood chips and dirty rushes were kicked about the smooth stone floors as couples and drunks threw themselves from one side of the bar to the other, possessed by the rhythm of the music.
In spite of the boisterous crowd that populated the noisy tavern, there was one area among the dingy interior that remained relatively clear. Rather, it was an area most everyone avoided. Near the back, sitting at a gnarled mahogany circular table in the small clearing made by the other patrons, were a sinister looking group of shady individuals. There were five in total, sporting scars and looming expressions with cold stares. Each seemed a bit rougher than your common scoundrels that common a place like this, with hands never straying too far from the rapiers and flintlock pistols that hung loosely off their belts. Among them, one in particular seemed more hardened than the others.
A long scraggly bush of black wiry whiskers coated the rather large mans maw, hanging over his broad half exposed chest. Curly disheveled hair the same color as his beard draped down over his shoulders from beneath a three cornered leather hat. With a burly arm he rose a wooded mug filled with a dark brown booze to his mulish visage and poured the liquid down his gullet over stained teeth. What missed his mouth ran down his chin, leaking through an unkempt beard and staining his weathered burgundy doublet. Drawing his arm up to empty the mug, his bristly chest and somewhat plump gut further emerged, fully relieving a tattoo that ran down the center of his abdomen. A symbol which has been on countless bounty posters offering millions of gold for the last two years. The mark of the Red Fang Pirates.
