Too often in life, we expect the world to be motionless around us. It is never the case. While we obsess and fixate over one small detail, the rest of the world keeps on turning. Schemes are put into play, hearts are broken, and lives are lost. Nothing will ever be in stasis - nothing will ever slow down to a point that is comfortable. Perhaps you are rolling your eyes, childishly assuming that this lesson you had already taken to heart. That may be the case, though I think it unlikely. If I might leave you with any parting wisdom, it would be this:
No magic is without price. Not more than a half a kilometer off the coast of Tortuga, eight ships finally come into view. Seven of these ships are English by their colors. The eighth ship, in the center of the small fleet, has two flags: one English and another in the shape of a blood drop - the symbol of La Fraternité du Sang. It wasn't Édouard's ship, as his was still docked in the harbor.
A black haired woman in a blue gown with lace gloves stood at the front of the ship, next to
a blonde haired woman in a pale yellow gown. They were, of course, Alisanne and Margot Riviere.
"Do you believe he has finished the task set for him?" Margot asked in perfectly accented English.
"He is the Baron of Blood and Fire," Alisanne replied emotionlessly.
"Yet he is a man. If he has not assassinated our brother, then we shall deal with him just as we shall with Édouard's children." Margot nodded. This had always been the plan since before Alisanne met Edgard. Her love for him was not a complication. Edgard was to murder Édouard and then be executed for his crimes against La Fraternité du Sang. Margot and Alisanne would then later deal with Édouard's children, eliminating any possible male heirs to the title. The two sisters could rule together, as they always intended.
"Miss Riviere, what are our orders?" an Englishman asked. After the British navy found nothing at the Bermuda Triangle, they had been sent to assist the rest of the fleet in the search for Miss Blackwood. All signs pointed towards the flask, Édouard, and Miss Blackwood to be at Tortuga. But why was La Fraternité du Sang present? Why were they working with the English? That mystery will remain for a little while longer.
"Destroy the ships docked," Alisanne instructed, staring at the shoreline.
"Yes, ma'am," the officer replied, before he began signaling to the other ships and providing instructions to the crew. Alisanne and Margot remained at the front, listening as the cannons were loaded and the ships at the docks grew nearer. It would be a difficult feat, yet it was not impossible. The greatest risk was that the fleet may run aground, if the docks were entirely destroyed. There were only seven ships at the moment docked.
"Fire," Alisanne said coolly, once the cannons were in position.
The Marigold was their first target. There was no one to move the
Marigold, no one to defend her. The cannonballs struck, with the sound audible all the way across Tortuga.
"Once more," Alisanne instructed. On the second volley, the cannons had pierced the hull to a great enough extend that
the Marigold began to sink rapidly. There was little chance in saving it.
Harlianne James
Location: Port of Tortuga Docks
Harlianne had crumbled into a small ball as she cried, yet the sound of cannon fire roused her.
The Intrepid,
the Marigold,
the Dwarf, and the
Amazon were all sinking. A small fleet of the English Navy, totaling to eight ships in all, was firing on the ships with their cannons. Her precious
Bellona was fine for now, but Harlianne understood what they were intending to do. They wanted to leave the pirates stranded on the island, with no escape.
"Oh 'ell no. Not me ship, ye bastards," Harlianne cursed. A Captain was nothing without a ship and a crew. She had already lost one of those today - she wasn't about to go two for two.
Rushing up the brain mattered stained deck of
the Bellona, she saw
the Octobris getting into position. There was no chance that she'd be able to get the ship sailing by herself. Their small crew of three had barely been able to do it and she wasn't unconvinced that it hadn't been a great deal of luck. Her eyes flickered widely all about. She'd be insane to attempt to take on a British fleet singlehandedly.
Well, that was why they called her Mad Eyes.
"Eh! Yer cock suckin' gits! Yer can't blow 'oles in me ship, mate!" Harlianne screamed. She only elicited a few stares and snickers from the crew of the
Octobris, as they started to load their cannons. This would've been an
excellent time for Anastasia to come back - she had to be alive. She wasn't allowed to be dead. She had already lost Sirena. She couldn't lose her as well.
Scrambling down to below the deck, Harlianne
really wanted someone else to have been there with her. She had never been a gunner. She knew the general idea of loading the cannons - you needed to put in powder, put in the cannonball, and ignite it. If there was anything else to it, she didn't know. She had always been a fighter and a navigator. Yet it was her only chance to save her ship, as dangerous and reckless as it was.
She found the powder bag and quickly added it. There were little balls of hay as well and she looked at them quizzically, before figuring they had to be important. Gunners had needed to get more of them before and no one would keep balls of hay around without good reason. She put that inside, before grabbing the only other thing around - the actual cannon ball.
"This better work, luv," Harlianne said, as if the ship could hear her. She gave the gun a bit of a pat and then ignited the end. Plugging her ears with her fingers, she hoped for the best.
By some miracle, it hit.
"Oh me god! Honest, guv! Yes, guv! Yes! Oi! 'Ave that, yer tossers, guv!" Harlianne cheered. She was covered in powder but she didn't care. However, as she peered out, she realized that she had done more than hit the ship.
Over on the Octobris... Robinson Savant had been frantically bringing over a fresh bag of powder. They had been working from an almost empty bag and with the cannons already sent towards the four previous ships, the gunners were running low. In the interest of efficiency, he was refilling everyone's stash with the large bag. One of the gunners had tossed their hat in triumph at their last successful hit, landing it right in Savant's path. And with the rush, he didn't have time to look.
He tripped and fell. The bag of powder burst and it went
everywhere. If you think glitter is bad, this is a thousand times worse. Everyone was coated in it, as well as every possible surface. Now to make matters worse for the crew of
the Octobris, Harlianne hadn't quite exactly aimed the cannon. It was at the same height as where
the Octobris' guns were. The cannon ball ripped through the wood of the ship. Rather than being solid iron, it was actually a projectile explosive - far deadlier and more Harlianne's style when it came to stocking ships. She liked fire.
The powder did its job, catching aflame when the projectile exploded. The fire spread rapidly and within seconds,
the Octobris was engulfed. A majority of the crew had been down manning the guns - all dead. And those up on the deck either abandoned ship or were killed as well.
One pirate took down a navy vessel, singlehandedly.
Aravis Zacharia
Location: Near the Docks ---> the Docks - Port of Tortuga
Aravis' eyes widened as she saw the gigantic blaze of fire that was
the Octobris. She didn't have to be at the docks themselves in order to see the light. She raised her hand as if to shield her eyes, though the intensity was not quite bright enough for that. The sounds of cannons carried and after the trauma she had been through, she wanted nothing more than to get off of this island. She threw a final look of disgust at Edgard before she sprinted towards the docks.
"That's cannon fire - it's the English." While she wasn't British, she grew up on the Isles of Bombay. She lived under British rule and hopefully, they might even consider her a subject. If it meant leaving this horrible place, it would be worth it. But as she looked closer, her heart sank deeply. The English weren't here to help - they were destroying all of the ships. The great pirate safehold was weak and vulnerable. It was the perfect time for a military power to wipe it out.
"They're going to kill us all," Aravis muttered. She gave another look at the docks, unaware that one of the ships had a crew member on it still, before running towards the one place she felt would still be safe - the Misty Mire. She ran past Edgard without even stopping for him. He was a horrible man. While everyone deserved compassion, now wasn't the time for such ideals.
Édouard Riviere
Location: the Misty Mire - Port of Tortuga
Caroline Alucard looked towards Millicent, masking her feelings of unease. It was better that she was explaining this to Millicent than the child, Luisa. While the flask fed off of the souls of its victims, it kept the same hold on those who had used its power before. They were all connected to it - Captain Swale, Elias Smith, Luisa, Caroline Alucard, and others. Caroline smoothed her dress once more, as if that would help her determine the best way to answer Millicent's questions. The woman was vain and egotistical. Potentially even cruel. She feared what Millicent may become capable of.
"The flask once belonged to a god," Caroline said. "The power remains - and it chose you. Its powers is yours. You can do great things, Millicent...You can help the people of this broken world."
"Qu'est-ce qu'elle a dit?" Édouard asked. He was staring at Millicent, not entirely comprehending what was going on. All he knew was that she had the flask and no one else was trying to take it. With a shrug, Édouard practically waltzed over to the flask and attempted to grab it. He clearly wasn't paying attention, as instead of grabbing the flask, he grabbed Millicent and subsequently tripped, falling to the ground as he passed through her.
"Merde..." Septima was in no better a mood. She had two pirates screaming at her and Millicent, the little pretentious slut, had what was rightfully
hers. She glared at Millicent, readying a hex or two in the back of her mind. If Millicent could drink from the flask and live, then so could she. There was nothing to suggest that Millicent deserved that power anymore than she did, in her opinion.
"Perhaps if you had retrieved my body, you vould not be dead," Septima said, clearly seething. Her accent was growing thicker. "Screaming will not change zat."
