User:Ace576/Akapellor's Fan Fiction

This page is for the Fan fiction of Akapellor on the viridian ocean. I do not post these directly on the forum, due to the fact that several forms of punctuation do not translate well from text programs.

This first Fan fiction was created for the Ye Be Cursed Event- November 2008

The war of Lonelywood lagoon

Chapter one: a meeting of minds.

The house was dark. The dim light emitted from a single lamp barely managed to pierce the gloom. Portraits of high measure lined the walls, bearing the visages of those forgotten heroes. The walls were also graced with trophies, plaques, awarded to the most prestigious among pirates. Also on in the room, fallen to the floor, and covered in dust, lay a trophy of trident shape. One may thing it was merely a strange replica weapon of some sort. But upon closer inspection, one would see that its surface was comprised of an ivory-like material, much like an elephant tusk. These forgotten, dusty, old memoirs were the legacy of one of the greatest pirates to ever grace the waves of the Viridian; Curtis cut-throat. It is here, in this house on Kirin Island that the story begins.

In the darkness, a lone silhouette of a figure sneaks towards the house. He wears a long, black cloak, and a tricorne pulled down to hide his face. The ghostly figure takes one look over his shoulder into the sea mist, and enters. This man is Otis, a man of high rank within the flag of Deathly Pallor, but unbeknownst to his King, he is part of an underworld leadership control. Men from the greatest flags of similar rank will join this committee, if they can find it. This conglomeration bears no real name, and is only referred to as ‘The Society’. Otis entered the house with the dim light perpetrating the darkness, and saw several other figures dressed in similar attire to him. There seemed to be few faces gathered round the dusty table that night.

“This is all?” Otis stood, arms at sides, bewildered by a gathering so small “I was told this matter was of utmost importance”

A deep voice growled. “T’is that. But to us only”

The voice came from the grizzled old face of Fell Johnson, a once powerful influence on the seas. He had been a greatly feared blaggard, until his age eventually turned him from his workings. Now he was but a doomed soul, keeping the code of piracy. His face is lined and scarred, his eyes are almost silver, like that of a wolf, and his long beard lies in greasy, knotted tangles. Otis glared daggers at Johnson, for time to Otis was precious. The captain of his crew had fallen prey to too many injuries, and was not fit to run the crew. Otis, while still a senior officer, led the crew. Mutiny was not far away.

“I would explain to you lad, that this matter is still of greatest importance, but must be settled by us, and us merely”

“Spare me the theatrics. Get to the point.” replied Otis, general nods and murmurs of agreement came from the other Society members present.

“Very well lad” the old pirate smirked “You will of course, know of the island Lonelywood Lagoon?”

“Small island, ‘bout five leagues from here, what of it?”

“Well, since forage trade became popular, we’ve been having trouble over that place.” Otis raised an eyebrow. Johnson went on; “Please, take yerself a seat and I’ll tell ye all about it.”

“Well, no doubt it all started when foraging became an industry. You’ve seen the frigates and the galleons piling on their loads. I don’t need to tell you what the effects on the economy have been. I don’t know, this Ocean used to be full of decent pirates, men who knew their way around things. Oh, a pirate was not an honest man ever, but we made sure they upheld the code. Now we’ve got industry fat cats reaping all manner of things to bring in their profits. Makes me sick, that does”

“But onto Lonelywood Lagoon. A nice place to be sure. Palm trees, crisp sand and stiff sea breezes. Well, it was nice, until the industry arrived. Now we’ve got those damn great beasts of ships, stripping the island bare. Now this, the Society may have tolerated. But fights have started. Ever since the flag Rising Sun got a’hold of Lima Island, scuffles between them and Fleet of Fallacy have become numerous on Lonelywood. Starting out with cursing, threats, all the old story. People started drawing swords on each other. Gangs started hunting down enemy foragers armed with chains, gaff poles and the like. Eventually, ships started battling each other for the goods. One ship left Lonelywood Lagoon only to be blown asunder by a fleet waiting in its path”

“If this carries on much longer, there’s going to be war. A war that will affect our presence here in these islands. And I tell you, these scuppers are going to rip and take anything they can get their greedy mitts on” Otis took a moment to take all this in, then said; “It’s clear now. But why don’t the other Society members lend a hand?” Johnson discarded this with a wave of his hand.

“Too busy. They have their own problems to deal with; this is ours and ours alone” He continued; “Further to the point, I’m putting you in command of the situation. I’m giving you denizen of all the Society ships in the area. I don’t care how you do it, but I want the peace kept. Is that clear?”

Otis nodded gravely

Johnson smiled, showing his rotting teeth; “Good, now go about your duty, me and my colleagues have other things to discuss”

At this, Fell Johnson rounded on his companions as Otis made to leave. As he left the house, the dull murmur from the committee was heard. He sighed, and plunged into the night.

Chapter two: The forest ultimatum

Frieda Golden was brand new to the world of piracy. However, she had already shown her competence as a crew member, and with her proficient show in battle navigation, she was quickly upped to officer status in ‘Lurking tide’, her crew. Frieda was gaining a reputation on the high seas, old salts in the inns would comment on the matchwood she left in her wake- that was all left behind of the ships she had finished with. Unfortunately for her, her crew was going into a transition, instead of being the fun crew she had enjoyed and revered, the captain was becoming more and more industrial.

Murmurs of treasure and looting were replaced by those of sales and earnings. Pillages were few and far between, and the crew seemed only to invest in foraging expeditions. Nonetheless, Frieda was a plucky girl and volunteered instantaneously. And so she came to be sitting, legs either side of the prow, bound for lonelywood lagoon.

Freida wore her blonde hair reasonably short and she wore a pure white dress. Or so she would have if it had not been ravaged by battle and stained by gunpowder. Suddenly she heard a thunderous “AHEM!” behind her. Quick as a flash, she jumped from the prow and regained her sailing station. The antagonising officer nodded to her as she got on with her work. As she pulled and kneaded the ropes, Frieda gazed out and spotted lonelywood lagoon on the horizon. The vessel was already being prepared for port. Frieda turned back and began to bring in her sails.

When the ship made port, a band of foragers were sent out onto the island to gather commodities and return them to the ship. The rest of the contingent were left behind to guard the ship, as the officer had eyed up a grand frigate lurking suspiciously a way down the headland. Frieda was among the band of scavengers. The leader of the group was a gallant fellow who went by the name Cellic.

“Ok everyone, I sure you’re experienced enough, so I’ll tell you that there’s’ some lime trees and passion fruit to the east. We also found bananas and pineapples south-south-west from here”

The band were raring to go, and we’re just about to rush off, when Cellic said

“I might add that there’s a bounty of 2500 pieces of eight for any nuggets of gold returned.” The crew’s eyes opened wide. An incredible price! And so they went their separate ways to get their treasures. As they set off, shadowy followers darted between the trees.

It was a fine haul. Freida had collected 14 baskets full of limes, passion fruit and bananas. She was about to turn and get back to the galleon, when she saw a glitter of gold. She ran towards the source, and found a golden nugget of humongous size. Worth twice the bounty at least! She made to leave, but as she turned, Cellic stumbled in, he was ravaged, scarred and covered in blood, he clutched at his wounds and tried to say something, but his words were cut short by a blade rammed through his chest. His eyes opened wide, and he fell. His corpse threw up the ground. Frieda screamed in grief and horror.

The murderer seemed completely unexceptional. He wore a plain shirt, and pants, now spattered with blood. But there was a look about his eyes. Those eyes spoke murder, deceit and death. But for that, he looked like any other pirate on the seas. As Frieda began backing away, he grinned, and several accomplices, who were no more unusually dressed, came up at his sides, and stood, with the same crazed look on all their faces. The leader spoke:

“Another one to conclude, mates, and the spoils are ours!”

The ravenous pack drew its swords, and advanced.

Frieda ran.

The swarm of men were gaining on her fast; she was scrambling desperately of scrub and trees, while the band was sure footed. Their bodies were driven by some malevolent, predatory force. Soon, she knew she would be ripped limb from limb by these madmen. But what happened next changed everything. One of the men fell, an arrow through his neck. The ragged band stopped suddenly and looked around, panicked. Frieda had stopped in her tracks too.

Thunk. Another arrow pierced another man, the group was now scattered, running for their lives, as arrow after arrow found its target. Soon only a handful remained. There was the sound of blades being drawn, and then several striking dressed warriors, they faces painted with strange tribal symbols, leapt from the trees. The remaining men, though they fought valiantly, were hopelessly out manned and out skilled. They were run to the ground in seconds. Frieda watched all this aghast, and backing silently through the trees, when a gentle but assertive voice behind her spoke:

“It is the power of the island”

Frieda turned around quickly, hand to her sword. The man behind her was tall, wearing strange trinkets and bearing striking symbols painted on his face. He gave her a rye smile.

“You need not fear me, girl”

Frieda frowned and tightened her grip on her blade.

“But you killed them all! Even if they were trying to kill me, which I thank you for, but you savaged them, murdered them in cold blood. How do I know you’ll not do the same to me?”

The Chieftain, as probably he was, bore a look of disdain and spoke again.

“We never killed; those men were dead at heart before we ran our blades through their cursed bodies”

“I must explain, the island holds a terrible curse, and those of weak will are corrupted and become, well, as you saw”

“But you seem unaffected, you are unique. Perhaps you may yet become one of us...”

Frieda laughed in contempt

“I’d rather die!”

She glared at him, daring him to say ‘That can be arranged’. But he didn’t. Instead he said;

“You will see, run back to your crew, girl, and you shall see why the enlightened live so well”

Frieda glowered at the man one last time, and ran off towards shore. As she ran she took one glance back, and saw the Chief and the tribe staring after her.

Chapter three: Fearful waters

Ballin was jobbing in ‘Lurking Tide’; the foraging trip was going well so far. And as the ship was in port and there was no need of sailors, he was taking a quick nap. He wore a musketeer hat pulled down over his eyes. The only purpose he bought it for. There were suddenly murmurs of dissent heard. Ballin opened one eye. He heard something about the foraging party being behind schedule. Good news to him, he could sleep for longer. He shut his eyes again and dozed.

He woke up with a start when a huge blast shook the ship. Quickly proceeding, a splash was heard. Ballin jumped to his feet and looked over the side. Over the side was the leading officer, spluttering and floundering in the water. Ballin’s natural assertion took over from his dozy state.

“Somebody throw him a line!”

As men tended to pulling Garsen (The officer), Ballin looked behind and saw a War frigate coming round the headland. Both side and chase guns ablaze. Ballin made a quiet curse against Lurking Tide. Garsen was pulled aboard, sputtering and covered in seaweed.

“Dammit! Somebody take the wheel! We need to mobilise now!”

“Get the sails up!”

“Load the guns!”

Commands were being shouted all across the ship, and slowly but surely, the ship began to move. All the while the ship was being blasted into matchwood by cannonballs. Garsen twisted the wheel as far as it would go. The rudder groaned and the ship slowly turned. The opposing ship was now broadside, starboard on.

“All guns to starboard!” Yelled Ballin, as he lit a cannon and kicked it to face the oncoming vessel. The proceeding shot splintered a section of the enemy deck. Several men and crew fell into the depths. Then, the opponents made a cunning manoeuvre, and both ships were side on in the same directions. Guns blazed below decks and men began assembling on the dips of the vessels. Both crews drew blades and roared insults at the others. Then the grappling hooks were launched. Crew members swarmed across the ropes, men fell into the sea and started crossing blades while still on the ropes. Dozens were cut down before they made it aboard the opposing ship. Sent to a watery grave. Two men came aboard and challenged Ballin. He drew his falchion, and pointed it menacingly at them and the men grinned wretchedly. Ballin moved towards the port side. Then they began.

Ballin blocked and parried left and right, he swept aside a high overhead cut, and then suddenly the man to his right made a low sweep which Ballin leapt over with supreme agility. He made to stab the man, but the man blocked clumsily and stumbled backwards. Ballin went in to finish him, but the second man came in with a waist heigh sweep. Ballin quickly parried and began against his second opponent with hacking and stabbing, and with each blow, the man became less and less proficient... But then came the first again, charging towards him, sword raised, ready to kill... But Ballin side-stepped in the nick of time! The man swept his sword down on empty air and staggered past. Ballin made quick work of him with a vicious backstab. The man tumbled over the side of the ship, down to Davey Jones’ locker.

The second man, now fuelled by the death of his comrade, came at Ballin; slicing, hacking and stabbing for all his worth. Ballin desperately repelled the onslaught, but he soon found his back forced to the deck rail. The man then shunted him backwards. Ballin lost his balance, faltered and tumbled backwards off the ship. As he fell off the rail, his hand thrust out and grabbed the man’s shirt scruff. The man was pulled to the deck rail, and Ballin, blade still in hand, sliced his head from his body. Then he and the corpse fell.

The impact of the water stunned him, but Ballin was not of the weak willed variety. He shook his brain into alertness, and scanned the sea line. The water was dyed red with blood. He knew that soon, sharks would come, attracted by the scent. As he looked, he saw a small sloop anchored not far away, which he made for.

He took a look back at the raging battle behind him, and he saw an amazing sight. A Grand frigate had ploughed its way through the two ships and its men gave no leeway to the boarding hordes. Their swords struck every man with deadly precision; no man crossed the middle ship. Then, without warning, all the guns on board, flared, and with incredible timing, fired at the same time. Both the lesser ships were reduced to splinters. The War frigate split in two, and men desperately clung to the mast as the ship went under. The merchant galleon of Lurking Tide had its prow split, and a huge hole gouged in its bow. The ship filled with water quickly and plunged beneath the waves. The navigating man of the Grand Frigate had wild black hair, wore a captains jacket and pantaloons. He bowed his head, and put his tricorne to his chest. He then replaced it on his head, walked away and disappeared from sight.

Ballin turned away from this spectacle once again began swimming towards the sloop.

Chapter four: Acquaintances of ill circumstance.

The men quietly paddled the longboat out towards the lonesome sloop. Many of them shivered - some of cold, and some for other reasons. Terror had fraught upon them that day; some had been knocked from sanity by the witnessing of the blood thirst that reigned supreme deep in the island’s dense canopy. The blood thirst that had ran from man to man; and possessed their bodies like demons. And some had been hardened as tough as stone by the horror of battle. So many had died. So, so many had been torn from existence; existence so fragile, like a spider’s web.

Aboard the longboat was Frieda. Her once modestly beautiful dress had now been torn and spattered blood dried slowly upon it. She was unlike the other’s aboard though; whereas the others were trembling slightly and their eyes flitted fearfully from side to side, Frieda seemed oddly calm, her head bowed in thought, her eyes glazed over. There was something else around her; a kind of aura, which had upset the travellers near her, and caused them to edge away. From time to time she would look up, flick her hair from her face and stare blankly for a brief while. Then she would bow her head and the aura would surround her again, unsettling the other passengers.

The longboat was cruising along nicely, and they were rounding on the boat quickly, when the boat juddered and profanities were heard from below the deck.

“Did we hit a reef?” said one of the crew aboard.

“Reefs don’t use that kind of language, I’m sure” said another, who proceeded to look over the side. Spluttering and floundering underneath was Ballin, who’d taken a nasty bash from the side of the boat.

“It’s another survivor! Let’s haul ‘im in lads!” Several men reluctantly proceeded to help in dragging a wet and sea-weed covered Ballin aboard.

He coughed and bashed his chest a few times, as is customary for those with lungs full of water, and said thanks weakly. He then keeled over and nearly fell overboard again; had it not been for the quick reactions of some of the men. Ballin was soaked from head to foot, not to mention covered in seaweed and battle debris. From deep in one of his pockets, a crab emerged and nervously scuttled away; no one spared it much attention. The ship slowly came closer into view as the longboat came round upon it, and it seemed unseasonably large for what was clearly smaller than it seemed. The whole vessel exuded a sense of large. Not the wholesome large of grandeur, mind, but a chilling, hollow aura. This aura was doing nothing for the men’s frayed nerves. However, as most would have thought to themselves, beggars can’t be choosers. And so they climbed up onto deck, or stepped rather; the hull and sides had been weathered and rotted for many a year, so they dipped so low one could almost walk off the longboat onto the deck. Great gaping holes with wood rot lining them were all over the hull- the more experienced carpenters began taking mental notes on the holes and how to fix them.

Ballin had regained consciousness a few minutes previously and went to join his new crewmates aboard the ship. Frieda remained on the longboat, still in some strange stupor. Ballin frowned when he saw her.

“You coming aboard, or are you waiting for that frigate to come back?” Frieda’s eyes slowly focused, and she blinked and squinted, like someone coming out of a very deep sleep. She then proceeded to let Ballin help her aboard.

Soon all the crew were making themselves busy coiling ropes, hoisting sails or patching up holes. Frieda worked the sails, and as she knotted and plied the ropes, she took a look towards the quickly disappearing island, and grinned evilly.

The sloop was very fast, and the journey took little time at all; particularly with Frieda on the sails. Ballin steered a true course on the wheel, even though it had several pegs missing and it was splintered with age. One man kept vigil on the crow’s nest just in case the Frigate reared it’s ugly head again.

Soon the crew found themselves rounding on the Port of Lima Island. They could soon hear the hustle and bustle of the town. As well as hearing yells and raw shouts. Many of the crew aboard became nervous and unsettled.

Unexpectedly, a cannonball thundered across the bow. Many men at the front were knocked of their feet. Around the port, many ships were mobilising, and longboats were setting out from the shore, filled to the brim with sword wielding scallywags and brigands of every shape and size. All had they eyes squarely on the ship and it’s crew, ready to kill and ravage.

“Up anchor, get up the sails and turn her round! We’re not welcome here, it se-“ Ballin’s command was cut short, as a ballistic cannonball cut the mast atwain from the ship. The great mast thundered and clattered as it bowled over into the deep. The men looked away from that terrible sight, towards Ballin. One of them swallowed, and said:

“What now captain?”

Ballin, newly appointed captain of this ramshackle crew, faintly said:

“Load the guns.”

The crew manned the cannons, drew their swords, and prepared for the fight for their lives.

Chapter five: Suspicions.

“So, our ship’s doomed, is it?”

Ballin strode the deck in front of his new crew mates, in the traditional manner of the rallying leader.

“Is this one of them rhetorical questions, cap’n?

Ballin glared at the man who had said this and turned to face the oncoming hordes who approached. Why so many would come after a single ship... it was madness.

“If the ship is lost, then it’s time to get a new one.” He turned his sights on a cutter approaching steadily to come side on.

“Time for a little retribution, methinks”

The fight was swift, and seemingly easy. Perhaps this was because of a single female. Many of the men had noticed Frieda’s skill. However, it was no secret that she was no able swordsma- swordswoman before. But now, she hacked and sliced without remorse, and she seemed to have uncanny reactions and unnatural speed. Frieda was once again troubling the rest of the crew. The cutter was making good pace away from the island, a few straggling ships tailed, but they were losing ground fast. Ballin was poking around in the captain’s quarters, which were fancy and luxuriant. He reclined on the chair at the corner of the room, and put his feet up on the desk, making a plain display of contentment. I could get used to captaining, he thought to himself. Something on the desk suddenly caught his eye.; a letter, the seal had been broken and it looked recent. Ballin picked it up and read it to himself-

Dear Sirs,

This is an informative letter that should be delivered efficiently and courteously. You are invited to make bid on a bounty on a particular ship; one which should be coming your way shortly, if all counts are correct. The said ship is a sloop, with a horse figurehead and a rose engraved on the hull. Should you sink this ship, your reward shall be a total of 1,000,000,000 pieces of eight. Good hunting.

Well, he thought, that explains a lot. The damn thing seemed a little too convenient. A sloop in the middle of the bay, just big enough to house any remaining survivors! He picked up the letter and read it again. Must’ve been sent to every low-life who owned a raft or bigger. Whoever had destroyed the boats at Lonelywood lagoon obviously wanted to cover their tracks; Ballin knew he had to find out what was going on, before this situation repeated itself. The memory of the carnage at the island was dreadful to bear- Ballin shuddered at the image and shook himself into clarity. He knew only one person who could help him get to the bottom of this.

“Dragon’s Nest? Go there? Are you insane?”

Henry, the new navigator stared at his captain, eyes wide in shock.

“Listen to me Henry, this goes way beyond the scope of the lives of a few pirates, this whole thing is shrouded in mystery, we need to know things, very important things.”

Henry took a moment to steady himself on the railings before replying-

“And you’d risk all our lives, just to meet this informant??”

“It’s risk or certainty. Whoever wanted us dead won’t give up so easily, if we waste time now, there won’t be any spare”

Henry stared out into the open sea.

“Fine. Let’s just hope the news of our survival doesn’t travel faster than we do.”

“Good man, Henry. Step to it!”

Ballin turned away as Henry began plotting his change in course.

A while later, Ballin was sitting in his office, brooding the oncoming risk he was going to take, that might mean the end for him and his new crew.

Promptly, there was a knocking outside the door. Ballin bade them enter.

Three men came in, worried looks on their faces. One held his hat in a Mexican fashion.

“Ah, John, William, Alan. What’s troubling you my good fellows? I take it you are here to outcry about our journey to Dragon’s nest?”

The men exchanged glances, and one stepped forward.

“No sir, we’ve gotten over that. This concerns the girl”

“Oh, tell me you didn’t...”

“No! No! We didn’t mean that, captain!”

The man who hadn’t spoke cut in-

“What we mean cap’n is, well, did you see her fight earlier?”

“I was too busy trying to not get decapitated, and I expect she was too.”

“Well sir, since you hadn’t noticed, she fought like a demon, cap’n.”

“Perhaps you underestimated her, then”

“I don’t think ye’re getting it, captain. I saw her kill 12 men all on her lonesome.”

Ballin raised an eyebrow.

“I even saw her wrench one man by the neck and throw him clean overboard, captain!”

The captain leaned back in his chair.

“That’s very interesting. I think-”

He was interrupted by a throaty yell of “Laaaand Ho!”

“I think... we should continue this conversation later.”

And with that, he brushed past the men and out onto deck, to see the island of Dragon’s nest coming into view.