Kissshot — Roleplayer Guild

Ben's world folded like a crumpled a tent, leaving him dazed in a crowd of confused civilians. He knew there was something he had recognized in this man, in this pirate-- and now it all came flooding back to him in tender waves. This was the man who had, with his crew and companions, slayed a sea monster in the Adriatic. The famed "Dread Captain Scar". A cold legend living, breathing, and commanding sailors right before his eyes. And, of course, he was practically the only one who knew!

Something caught the speculative bartender's eye deep in the crowd, and he became hopeful.
Perhaps not.

Ben shrugged through the crowd, making his way to an overweight, overplump merchant-criminal. "Ciríaco! At last, a familiar face!"

He had mixed feelings toward Ciríaco, but mostly he had respect for the man. They weren't close enough for him to feel anything particularly negative or deroagative, but...well, Ben thought he had quite the secretive aura to him, and he didn't like that. He was like a fat falcon trying to guard its young, only this fat falcon held great sway in Ben's worklife.

"My dear Ciríaco, you can't tell me you haven't made the connection by now. This menino --though perhaps he is much less a boy than I am an angry dragon-- would ask us to set sale for Morocco, and with hardly any explanation! I'm not sure what to make of this."

Ciríaco slowly looked up at the man calling his name, as if in a daze. Hell, he very much was in a daze. In front of him he had witnessed an infamous man, the so called "Dread Captain", talking about the voyage along with the slithering fuck that was Caesar Luna. The presence of this notorious pirate was no coincidence, Ciríaco was sure. He had been nodding to himself constantly as the Dread Captain and Luna finished their speeches, and still subtly did so as his name was called.

Ciríaco turned to face the man, identifying him as Bento Belo. The man would probably have been a common street thug had it not been for his connections with the League, Ciríaco thought. Even so, Belo was a sharp young man, with a professional attitude sorely lacking among the criminal elements of Sintra. Naturally, they had worked with eachother before, though as far as Ciríaco was concerned, Belo worked for him, just like everyone else in Sintra. Ciríaco didn't normally like the fact that Belo referred to him by his first name, but in the state Ciríaco was currently in, he really didn't care.

"So the famed Dread Captain says, does he not?" he offered for an answer, lightly bowing his head to greet the man. "It is nice to see you survived this rather nasty ordeal, Ben." It had been the first time someone spoke to Ciríaco after the dragon attacked, and it was like waking up. Abruptly, Ciríaco had been brought out of his uncharacteristically unfocused and in all fairness crazed behavior. He was suddenly aware of how he must look - battered to a pulp. Pretending as if everything was as it should, Ciríaco nontheless grabbed Ben by his shoulder and took a few steps forward along with the man.

"Well I don't know about you, kid, but I for one intend to find explanations for quite a few things" he said, before removing his hand from Ben and promptly walking aboard the ship.

Ben nodded his agreement, letting Ciríaco grab him by the shoulder and lead him forward toward the giant ship. Ciríaco quickly let go and continued to walk aboard, but Ben found himself staring at the vessel with a strange yearning he didn't recognize. The ship had a grace to it that transcended class and birth, almost like it served a noble cause they couldn't recognize; a pure nugget of gold in a town of bare rock.

Ben felt surprisingly calm walking aboard a boat --this boat-- for the first time in years, and he closed his eyes in ecstacy, breathing in the salty air and sputtering foam and grunting sailors. These weren't normally thoughts that crossed Ben's mind, but these weren't normal circumstances. What had happened in Sintra, an act of God or not, affected the entirety of the town. I think I read of such a thing in one of my books. "Evil doth not discriminate."

The shattering of a glass bottle snapped Ben to attention. He looked in the direction of the noise, and found himself sighing as deep as the green-blue ocean below him.

"This is a joke, I hope!" Ben started as he saw the root of the sound, "I already know what you're thinking, and it's foolish. Our pirate captain has enough hands, now-- he doesn't need you lot to tag along. Especially with a drunk who will require more maintenance than the ship!"

The source of the noise ignored him as they carried Bento Belo Sr. atop the A cadela queimada and below decks.

"Our captain's not going to like this!" Ben called out to their fleeting forms.

In truth, he said that partially because he did not want his father with them (nor his own friends), but he meant what he said. He feared what would happen when the Dread Captain found his father smuggled in the lower decks like an imported cask of liquor. He feared what his father would do when questioned by an intimidating pirate.

I think I know too well what he would do.

With another sigh, this one instead heavier than his aquaintance Ciríaco, Bento Belo carred himself aboard the ship. Deciding he'd be better use for the crew after they set sail, he found a spot in the corner, going over things in his head until he was interrupted by the drawing of a sword.

Kissshot Member

Status

Bio

Most Recent Posts