Companion Notes:

Crabby Calamity Cormac Witchdoctor
Mutiny/Krokotopia (Dead Mike / Naturally Spooky)

Darcy Davenport Privateer
Storm/Krokotopia** (Milo / Naturally Spooky)

Red Henrietta Buccaneer
Sea Monster/Grizzleheim** (Birgus Latro / Naturally Tough)

Black Jack Davis Buccaneer
Lost/Skull Island (Lucky Jack Russell / Born Sneak)

Little Kai Swashbuckler
Sea Monster/Mooshu (Birgus Latro / Born Warrior)

Lawrence Radcliffe Privateer
Lost/Marleybone (Lucky Jack Russell / Keen Eyes)

Miranda Nightingale Swashbuckler
Storm/Grizzleheim** (Milo / Naturally Tough)

Virtuous Valerian Vane Musketeer
Armada/Skull Island (Gaspard de Vole / Born Sneak)



** Needs recreating and levelling

"Catherine, where in the Spiral have you taken us?"
"Ehh, this doesn't look like The Golden Fin... ...or Skull Island..."
"Are you sure this is where Livesy told ya to go? We don't want someone else taking our goods, or Avery will have our miserable hides. ...Or, at least he'll raise our rent..."
"My Quest Helper isn't working. I don't know where we  are."
"... Are you telling me we're lost?"
"No! ...Well, maybe. There, I fixed it! Where are we, GPS Lady?"
"...You are in ...  Avernus to Helhiem passage ... Periwinkle Windstone required."
"WHAT?! Dragonspyre?! We need to get out of here, pronto. There is no way I'm haulin' yer corpse all the way back to Skull Island, unless it's keelhauling."
"Hey! I could take on those giant ... bone ... drakes ... Um,  how far is The Miracle Hut?"
"Twenty ... eight ... paces."
"...Uhhhhh..."
"I told ya to just get a good, old-fashioned compass and star charts! Now look where we are."
"As much as I appreciate your vast knowledge of sailing, right now it is NOT. HELPING. GPS, how do get home?"
"In fifty ... two ... thousand paces, turn left ...Your destination should be on the riiiiiiiiiight."
"Dan'ed new-fandangle piece of Valencian rubbish!"
"Take the fourth exit at roundabout onto helhiemmmmstjvdd463...!?!"
"Gahhhhh! Whatever happened to navigation?! Rig full sails! Hard to port, we're turning off this dan'ed windlane until I get my bearings!"

Miranda spends most of her time at sea (...or sky?), entertaining her motley crew. Be it dancing a jig under the Marleybonian moonlight with Sarah Steele on the fiddle, or singing rowdy songs in Mooshu with RatBeard (playing rather badly) on accordion, embarrassing her companions and terrifying the locals wherever she goes. The few moments when she's not searching for danger in the furtherest reaches of the Spiral, she's mostly likely in a pub somewhere, telling stories, singing karaoke (rather badly) with close friends, starting bar fights for the fun of it and holding Yum(™ Captain Gunn, yohoho and a bottle of Yum~! ♫) drinking contests ... against herself.

She currently holds the record for Most Rum Consumed Within A Minute in Skull Island. Beat that, Gorando.


Miranda is a simple lass, and probably the most piratical of her pirate friends. It is assumed that her parents were lost in a terrible storm, the debris of their ship found scattered all throughout Avernus, however the Captain and her First Mate were never found. Miranda was sent off to her very distant relative in Grizzleheim and spent most of her life brawling, picking fights and running with the wolves - rather literally. After making enough enemies to sink a ship, Miranda's adoptive mother put her on one. To tone down her attitude and to connect her with her roots. Thankfully - if you could say that - the lass embraced the lifestyle, even to the point of intimidating her comrades. She made friends with many of the crew, although that didn't particularly help her when an Armada officer in a pub in Marleybone ordered her rather chubby bear friend to move aside. Taking it upon herself to defend their honour, the lass landed herself in the brig of an Armada ship and was left to rot wondering if perhaps fighting a six foot mechanical soldier with only a simple knife and while under the influence of six bottles of Yum was such a good idea. But even while imprisoned she continued to defy them, singing rowdy songs about sinking clockwork ships and who-knows-what, although it didn't seem to have much effect except for torturing or cheering her fellow prisoners. But what fun is meeting your inevitably without a little singing and explosions?

Despite falling under the influence of a very frightening band of pirates and outlaws, Lawrence is a gentleman firstly, and during their times of need doesn't hesitate to serve Queen and Country as a loyal (and very irregular) officer of Her Majesty's Navy. When not saving the Spiral, he is often seen being bodily dragged all over creation by a couple of truly intimidating lassies and his best mates and can be found passed out in a barrel in a very questionable establishment that he had been hauled off to while they make merry. (Bloody lightweight.)

When offduty and not being hunted down, he keeps himself busy by rigorously training and duelling with his crew, studying maps and strategic manuels, tripping over his own feet, running drills (much to everyone's dismay), and taking everyone out to the theatre and opera because this is real music, Lieutenant Emmett!


Lawrence was really quite young when his parents, the infamous treasure hunters of The Majesty, were lost to the sky. With his parents missing in action, the young privateer was left to the care of a longtime friend of the family, a shaggy old gentledog called Colonel Malcolm Sheffield, a veteran officer in the Marleybone Army Corps. Malcolm owed his life to Lawrence's father, who had saved him from a gruesome end during the Polarian war. Lawrence was raised among the soldiers as a runner, delivering all kinds of news, good and bad, to the admiralty. When his elderly foster father passed on, Lawrence had little left of a future in Marleybone. He felt that his calling was on the winds, so he signed on for an apprenticeship on what he thought was a merchantman, only to be horrified to find out - about midway through his journey - that he was in fact in the company of part-time pirates. Despite his hesitance, he befriended the captain of this ragtag bunch - a somehow intimidating plump little guiana pig called Giovanni Antonio Vivaldi - and found out that pirates weren't quite as ruthless as he had thought. The ever-honourable Giovanni was, in truth, a bit of a romantic. He only took from those who had too much, were to use it for ill or were the enemy of the good Old Valencia. In fact, the crew became a family of sorts, looking after their new 'little brother' as they liked to call him, and Giovanni reminded Lawrence of his foster father, but much more ... loud. Giovanni told Lawrence of the Armada, clockwork fiends created only to destroy, who knew no mercy, no compassion. How they had destroyed all that Valencia had stood for and were now turning their sights on the rest of the Spiral.

Lawrence and Giovanni parted on happy terms, Giovanni's wife was now expecting child. Many a child. Giovanni sold his ship and gave a portion of the funds to his crew, retiring to help his poor wife with their seven children. With no ship, crew or connections to his name, Lawrence landed in Valencia, the centre of the Spiral - and home of the Armada. After finding more out about the Resistance, Lawrence found himself in the middle of a scheme to rid the Valencian skyways of clockworks - forever. But ultimately they failed, outnumbered, outmatched and outplayed. Lawrence had been one of the few to have been able to escape to Skull Island - almost. He and his entire fleet were taken prisoner, their officers executed on the spot and they were to be taken back to Valencia for evaluation. But little did anyone know of the events that were about to take place, and that The Majesty would rise again ...

At pretty much every spare moment Mister Vane is giving his shipmate (usually well deserved) sass as she blazes the trail and sets the world on fire (sometimes quite literally), keeping The Red Dawn afloat and maintaining his vast collection of rifles. Otherwise he might be observed working at a pub as a bartend in some dark corner of Albion, usually with the same stupid smirk on his face.

With the strong Albion accent, not many know that Doctor Cormac  (otherwise known as Calamity) spent the first real years of her life at Krokotopian dig sites, under the blazing sun (although there are also rumours of her competing in shady underground fight clubs during her early youth, however this has never been confirmed). It is presumed that it is because of her humble origins that she has such a fascination with antiques, her collection to have been said to even rival the Royal Museum's in Marleybone!

Despite being a co-owner of a 'karaoke' bar, The Crusty Crab Inn, she doesn't spend much time there and you'd be more likely to find her shadow in the woods or lurking in the sewers. She also owns her own stables, where she keeps a very disgruntled black stallion called Black Jack Davy and her trusty owl nicknamed RedBeard.

Whatever free time she has left is spent bounty hunting (it's not her fault they refuse to come quietly!), keeping dark and ancient secrets, donating to orphanages and looking disapprovingly over her glasses - usually right before shoving her accomplice down a well only to the find out, with much disappointment, that's it's actually not that dangerous at all.

Henrietta is a well-known bounty hunter and renegade. Reckless and perhaps irrational half the time, her brood were killed by a leviathan while travelling through the Place Between Worlds. She's often seen brawling with other buccaneers sadhfladsfkhsdof


Kai is considerably more rational and booksmart than his accomplices, although he seems to lack the instinct and raw courage they have. He is precise and decisive, but thinks too much. He was born and raised in Mooshu under the care of his Godmother, too young to have joined his parents on their final voyage, presumedly devoured by a massive dragon. Meifeng, his Godmother, was a retired ninja and now a mistress of a notable Samoorai's house. A trading vessel in the company of Armada troopers came to their village. Meifeng and Kai were at the markets when a Fusilier bumped into Meifeng, causing her to drop all the fresh produce they had bought that morning. Kai confronted the clockwork, whom only stared him down and ordered him to be taken. Meifeng begged them not to take him, but when she realised her pleading fell on deaf ears she struck. The troopers freed Kai from their grip to deal with the new threat. They both fought for a long time until the Musketeers lowered their rifles at the plump little pig. Kai threw down his weapon and stepped in between them, giving himself up to save her. So he was taken onboard in chains. When he looked back, he saw his Godmother looking onward, tears rolling down her cheeks. But all he saw was the look of pride.
And it wasn't an image he has ever forgotten.

The lass from Albion tapped on the door and peered into the light-filled cabin. "Captain?"
"Yes, Bonnie?" Lawrence answered, not looking up from the manual he had been scrutinising.
"The crew were wondering. Y'know, this is our last day in port-"
"I am well aware of this."
"-Well, with your permission, th' lads are wantin' ta go out for th' night."
Lawrence's eyes narrowed, although he still didn't put away his book.
"Is Ratbeard cooking tonight?"
"Uhhh... Yea?"
"Very well, but I expect them to be in their berths and well rested before dawn. We should be leaving for Puerto Rico tomorrow."
"Captain," Bonnie interrupted.
"Yes?" He replied absently.
"They want you to go with them."
A brief moment passed while the Captain processed this information.
"What?"
"So... Should I tell them no, or..?"
Just then, Ratbeard (whom smelt suspiciously of burnt brussel sprouts, Lawrence noted), El Toro, Egg Shen, Lucky Jack Russell and even Emmett all piled in through the small door.
"Were you all listening in?" Lawrence asked, mildly horrified.
"I told ya lubbers that he'd decline it without ev'n a second thought! We shoulda 'av just blown down th' blasted door an' grilled him from the get go."
"Excuse me?"
"Stop writing in that log, Captain. You can get your nose out of those books and go celebrate." Jack carefully removed the maps and strategic manuals from his Captain's grasp, handling them as if they were bombs about to explode.
"Join us, mi amigo! Just a guys' night out. It shall be fun! Arrrrriba!" Somehow El Toro had gotten a hold of maracas, something that had been strictly prohibited onboard (too many past incidents), and was shaking them furiously.
"This is fun." Lawrence said, waving at the messy pile of papers and miniature ships scattered about the room.
"Besides, I have work to do."
"My friend, you cannot spend your entire life in here. Besides, we have already asked Captain Carter and Captain Jackson to join us, and to bring along their crews." Egg Shen interjected.
The captain blushed a little at this remark from his long-time companion and usually rather passive monk.
"I do not spend all my time in here. I took you all out to see A Midsummer Night's Dream last week!"
"Eugh, don't remind me. I still have nightmares."
"Besides, Ratbeard is making his Midnight Special again."
"Why? Is there somethin' wrong with Mama's secret recipe?!"
Lawrence sighed. "It looks that I am not getting out of this without starting a mutiny. Very well, if we must."
Everyone in the crowed cabin exploded into cheering.
"Ye'll see, Cap'n! This'll be a killer of a night!"
"That's what I'm afraid of."

Captain Nightingale caught a full mug o' beer that was thrown at her head and dodged another effortlessly while she downed it.
"Err, Cap'n?"
Her head turned to the rat pirate with a broad grin and did nothing to warn him as a chair went flying over his head.
"Yea, Ratbeard m'dear?"
Luckily, the old timer had learnt to recognise and associate the mischievous gleams in her eye with danger and instinctively ducked as the gravity-defying stool came sailing through the air.
"Ain't it a wee bit early to be startin' a bar fight?"
"It's never too early for a fight, m'friend!" She declared as she stepped aside a charging buccaneer and let him run into a bunch of tables and his fellow lowlifes and watched them all go down in a clumsy heap.
"But no one else be here yet." The old pirate intervened a sword aimed for the young Captain's back, smashing his cutlass against it so hard to send the sword a-flying out of the backstabber's grasp.
"Don't be daft. Think of this as the welcoming party!" She said cheerfully, taking a dagger from the wall and hurling it at a fleeing blackguard just as another crew walked in.

"Wherever have you taken us, Jack? I thought you said this place was classy?"
"Oh, haha. They must've had a change in management."
A trio of throwing knives peppered the wall next to Lawrence's head.
"Heh heh, yeah. Classy." Egg Shen smiled to himself as he plucked a stiletto from the doorframe and inspected it.
Lawrence briefly considered leaving and finding some other place, but as far as he knew this was the only establishment in port that was open on Sunday nights.
"We're here now. You best be right about the food at least."

The group picked their way through the chaos to a secluded table in a corner, constantly tripping over discarded weapons and various tavern crawlers already passed out or dazed from the fighting. Lawrence stumbled over a sleeping cat corsair and in an effort to right himself, ended up swerving around to meet a mildly startled swashbuckler face to face.
"Miranda?"
"Captain Radcliffe!" She exclaimed much louder than she meant to, although Lawrence supposed it was excusable as a moment later she shoved them both out of the way of a volley of sparks.
"I told ya never to call me that!" She chastised quite blithely, despite the angry hoard behind her.
"And what have you done now to anger half the village?"
"Oh, this ain't half the village. This scum is just out of Port Regal. I feel bad for the fella whose ship they're gonna knick."
"And what did you do to them?"
"I called their gangleader a low-lyin'-yellow-bellied-pox-faced-mutinous son of a milk maid. Oh, and I might've spat in his face." She dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
Lawrence just looked at her.
"I see. Starting bar fights for kicks again?"
"Ehh! It was getting boring 'round here with the ship in drydock, can you really blame me?"
"I'm not sure if I want to be seen in your presence."
"Bilgewater, Lawrence! I'm a good influence on you. Anyways, what's a sophisticated and civilised privateer like yerself doin' here?"
"My crew says I'm too tame, so they've dragged me along against my will to make some new enemies."
The marauder was silent for a moment as she searched his face to see if he were pulling her leg or not, and then she burst out into booming, almost manly laughter.
"Hah! I didn't think they'd get ye ta come! A tip of my hat to them. So ya're here to meet up with Carter and Jackson, correct?"
Lawrence was a little taken aback by the she-pirate's enthusiasm.
"Wait, do you mean they invited you as well?"
"Of course, everyone is welcome on karaoke night."
"Oh . . . Oh."
"I believe Vane, Cormac and Inglewood are here too, or - at least - should be. Ye know how Doc is. Always secretive."
"Inglewood too?" Lawrence felt sick already, and it wasn't even six o'clock yet.
Suddenly, a axe implanted itself into the wall above their heads as a very angry bear bellowed out, looking pointedly at the she-pirate.
"Oh, sorry, I have to take this." Nightingale pulled out the axe with a heave, raised it above her head and ululated, charging toward the grizzly, leaving a very confused privateer in the dust.
Lawrence considered helping her at first, but after spotting Emmett furiously beckoning him to a table in the dark corner and then looking back to see Captain Nightingale thoroughly pummelling her challenger, he opted to rejoin his crew.

"Where have you been?" Asked Jack somewhat suspiciously.
"Oh, ran into an old friend." Quite literally, he thought.
"Where is El Toro?" Lawrence asked
Egg Shen only pointed at the masked bull, dancing salsa with a mare from another crew, occasionally taking breaks to shake his maracas as she defended him gracefully with a short thin blade, blowing the assailants a kiss every time they fell to their knees.
"Mustang Sally is here?"
"Aye, turns out she joined Captain Nighingale's crew. Speaking of, did you know she was here too, Captain?"
"I am aware of this now, yes."
"Of course she is." Interjected Emmett. "This whole tavern's aura screams her presence. Besides, Ratbeard never misses karaoke."
"Oi, you can say that again."

The doctor sighed heavily as she kicked her Monquistan leather boots up onto the counter and removed her signature purple velvet hat. 
"Marty, get this lass a straight Albion whiskey and make haste." She declared loudly, leaning into the backless stool while somehow not losing balance.
"Rough night?" Inquired the bartend, wiping a tumbler with a stained towel.
"Dearie, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." She replied as nonchalantly vague as ever, which only provoked a slightly amused grunt from the gruff barkeep that went about his business without another word.

"Oh, I would." Retorted another voice from down the bar.  The patron got up from his seat and removed his hat, sitting down next to the observant doctor.
"Calamity, I was starting to think you mightn't show."

"Victor Davenport." She responded with a little surprise. 
"I didn't think I would be seeing you here either, Armada's Most Wanted. What is it, two million gold for the one that drags you in alive?"
"So you heard?"
"Nearly everyone has, lovey. They've posters in every port city from here to Valencia. You just best be careful with that kind of bounty on your head. I wouldn't be parading around like show pony if I were you."
"I am quite aware of the danger. I had to put on this tiger face paint just to get in here."
Calamity gave him a bizarre look, and upon closer inspection it seemed that he had indeed been wearing makeup of some sort, although it seemed it have smudged as it looked more like dirt upon his face now.
"It's a long story, but basically some cat corsairs said they didn't care much for my face. We had a little scuffle and I passed out at some stage and woke tied up looking like this on a sloop half way to Monquista. I got my revenge in the end, though."
"Uh huh." She replied, not entirely sure if she followed.

Meanwhile, someone on the other side of the bar was yelling insults, and the far side of the tavern dissolved into chaos as a fight broke out.
"Oh? Seems that things are about to get interesting. I hope that you are still in the mood for a fight." The doctor smiled deviously, downing her drink in a single gulp and taking her feet off the countertop.
"Why?" The Armada's Most Wanted asked as she rose to her feet and grabbed her ornate cane, adjusting her hat and straightening her outfit.
"Because it's karaoke night."

The wicked bone knife gleamed in the crimson moonlight while it's wielder, the hooded figure, gently swayed toward the terrified swabbie. In the harsh light of the bonfire, the silhouettes of the mysterious cloaked company wavered, sometimes changing into the shadows of bowlegged beasts and not men. As her followers danced under the blood moon behind her, the auburn haired devil drew her gruesome blade.

"Dear fellow," she cooed, her voice was strangely soothing. She lowered her face to look the victim in the eye, her emerald gaze hypnotising, both terrifying and beautiful. 

"Blood is owed. By an ancient oath we are bound, to water the sacred stones and quench their thirst under the blood moon. But all here has their sins, and it is the blood of the innocent that we require."

Terry could do naught, entranced and petrified, but gaze into her unyielding face, and now what he might've once thought elegant and handsome now looked sinister and inhuman.

Behind her, the ceremony had reached it's zenith, the unintelligible growing louder and their dance faster. Their hooded priestess looked to the sky with a terrible beastly smile.

"The time is nigh."

She raised the intricately carved dagger over the poor, lowly swabbie.

He shut his eyes, preparing for the end.

Slash.

She slit his arm and collected a small silver bowl's worth of warm blood before gently raising it again, as a doctor would do.

Terry opened his tightly closed eyes.
"That's it?!"

"You almost sound disappointed, dove." She smiled wolfishy.

"How's it feel being so close to home, Catherine?" The jovial redhaired pirate leaned gently on the railing of the ship, watching the stars of the outer frontiers of the Spiral go by. Despite the residue collecting on the hull and the cool breeze that could chill a bear to the bone, she seemed perfectly relaxed and at home, even with only a waistcoat on.

Her fellow marauder joined her at the bow. It had been so long since she'd been this close to Mooshu... She could almost smell the jasmine tea she had not smelt since childhood. She sighed inwardly with longing, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Like whatever Calamity had brought her here for.

"Don't misunderstand, I'm honoured to have been invited on this expedition, just ... Why, are we here, exactly?"
The doctor's eyes twinkled like they always did whenever she knew something you didn't.
"You landlubber scum are growing soft." She teased nonchalantly, but truthfully. Catherine and the gang had been rotting in drydock, taking odd bounty hunting missions but nothing of real importance or danger. Calamity was going to change that.
"It's high time you got out into the skies again and see some real action. We're here to hunt dragons."

Victor Davenport, who had been busy keeping lookout, overheard their conversation and leapt down from the upper shrouds, landing with a loud thud as his heavy iron-toed boots hit the deck.
"A dragon hunting expedition? Are you insane?!"
"Hush, you'll distress the crew with your yammering!"
"For good reason, too. This crew, they're not prepared for this! Catherine doesn't even know port from starboard."
"Hey! I can hear you, I'm right here!"
"Bilge! I taught 'er just this morning. She even found the poopdeck without going to the lavatories!"
"Hey!"

"Holy-! Who's on watch?!" Someone exclaimed from across the decks.
"Take cover!" Someone else cried followed by the fizzling sound of a burning fuse, and suddenly a barrage of sparks flew towards them.
"Get down!" Davenport yelled, and then all of them hit the deck together.
Behind them a angry hiss sizzled, it's owner hastily retreating to nurse it's singed and blackened face. It's bloodshot eyes glared at the trio with hatred before disappearing over the side, it's long serpentine body slithering through the air out of sight, leaving them all blinking in bewilderment.

"Haha! That devil is no match for Jason Inglewood!"
The blonde-haired pirate appeared at the prow, still smoking from his first attempt at firing a cannon, parading around chuff with victory.
"Well done, lad! That's how ye do it!" Calamity smirked smugly at Victor.
"You've just hit a Celestial Dragon, that's no small feat."
"Don't encourage him!" Catherine chided. "He's already cocky enough. He could give Cameron a run for his gold at times."
"Don't worry, lovie. You'll get your chance soon enough."
"You mean we're going after more of them?"
"Ayuh! So sharpen your blades, you lot. This'll be your toughest fight yet, but Victor and I will watch your backs." She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
"Ow!" She shot him a fierce look that no sane person would challenge.
"Uh, yes."
"You will have to exhibit perfect teamwork in order to take down a dragon. So, do you think you're ready?"

"Fish! Fresh fish straight from Grizzleheim! Caught just this morning!"

Morning on the pier was loud and bustling, merchants from all over gathered to sell their wares, sailors making ready to sail and the seagulls cawing over head.

"Buffaloon jerky! Only the finest!"

The light seabreeze felt lovely and refreshing, and the sun warm on the crew's backs. They weaved in and out of the crowd with ease except when others stood aside for them. The Captain had taken his leave and was now busy jotting down all the supplies The Majesty would require. Wow, how much pickled herring did they go through just this month ..?

"Hey! You! Watch where you're-!"

Lawrence stumbled over a long crate of what he suspected were muskets smuggled out of Marleybone judging by the packaging. He managed to catch himself before he fell to the ground however, grabbing an outstretched hand that pulled him to his feet.

 "Just as graceful as ever, I see." Jeered an all too familiar voice.
 "Mir-?"
 "Captain Nightingale, Lawrence. I've told you this before."

She stood before him just as he remembered the bloody marauder. Mocking and merry, utterly fearless and with the same mildly amused look on her face, although it was sullied with mild concern. She stood with her feet planted, arms crossed and head tilted.

"Are you alright? You look like ya're going ta fall down again."
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." He waved away her offered support, brushing off his breeches.
"What are you doing in Port Regal?" He asked.
"Selling our goods. Came across some fine furniture that didn't suffer the journey too badly, along with the usual cargo. Y'know." She explained. 
"Actually, I'm of a mind to ask you the exact same thing, Radcliffe."
"We were running low on supplies." He replied somewhat daftly. "I should really be getting back to shopping, actually."
"Don't you have anyone else to carry out midshipman duties?"
"No ... Well, yes, but they're all making repairs."
"Hmm. Good. I can give ye a hand." She volunteered, taking the rather taken aback privateer by the crook of the arm and dragging him along the pier.

"Where is your crew?" The more hesitant Captain asked. "Shouldn't you be getting back to them?"
"Nah, we're in port for a few days. They're probably in a tavern cellar somewhere."
"Without you?" Lawrence asked surprisedly, only too late realising what he just said could be taken as rather rude.
"Ehh. Ye can only take so much of Ratbeard's singing." She noticed his appalled expression.
"I don't spend all my time in pubs, Lawrence." She said good-naturedly, much to his relief. 

"Where are you taking me?"
"To an old friend who could help with yer supplies."

They rounded the corner of an alley to the great shop windows of a storefront.
"Savoy's Mercantile?"
"Indeed. You won't find better prices anywhere in Skull Island! Or, at least, not in Port Regal."

"Ah~! Welcome back our piratical protege~!" Twittered the ever-musical Gilbert, currently on a ladder stacking canned goods. He swung down with the grace of a ballerina, landing perfectly next to the register.

"Oh! And the majestic and ever charming Captain Radcliffe, as well~?!" He crooned, recognising the fellow that accompanied the swashbuckler.
"How might I help this dashing duo todaaay~?!"
"G'morning Gilbert. Wherever is your companion at?"
"Oooh, he is in the back, checking on our stooock~!"
"Gilbert, what is going on out there? Enough scaring the custo-! Oh, if it isn't our business accomplices. Nice to see you two alive and breathing. How can I help you?"
"Lawrence here has a list." She gave him a hard pat on the back at the mention of his name.
"Ooph! -Er, yeah." He handed over a hastily scrawled note of all the supplies the ship would need. Sullivan scrutinized it with the careful attention of a longtime shop keeper.
"Yes, we can get you all you need. We can deliver it all to the docks too, if you please. No extra cost."
"That would be fantastic, thank you." Lawrence said, thankfully.

Five minutes later the pair waltzed back out of the shop and headed back to the wharf just as they had entered, although Nightingale cut a bit more slack this time round.

"Majestic and ever charming ..?" She asked at last.
Lawrence made a sound like choking, followed by some coughing.
"So ya've done business with Sullivan and Gilbert before."
"Yes. In fact, I'd rather not be reminded of it." He said, wincing slightly.
"Well, I never knew that. Seems like ya're full of surprises, Lawrence." She smiled slightly, her respect for the privateer significantly increased.

So they walked arm in arm down to the docks, occasionally stopping to browse some of the vendors' goods. They strolled like old friends until the sun had fully risen into the sky. Then, with a tip of her hat and a friendly salute from he, they parted ways once more.

Adventure could wait until another day.

"G'mornin' Captain!" Chirped Gracie with a big grin and while completely covered in soot. She saluted with a thickly gloved hand holding a wrench, only just managing to not hit herself in the head with it by doing so.

"You wanted to see me, Gracie?" Lawrence asked, reluctantly ducking into the workshop and barely avoiding tripping over the various bits and pieces on the floor.
"Yes, sir! I thought you'd like to know, you being from Marleybone and all."

This immediately got the Captain's attention, although he was still wary at how important it might actually be. The engineer had once called an emergency meeting about some new kind of hydraulics before.

Gracie seemed to recognise the face Lawrence was making. It bugged him a little at how well everyone could read his thoughts. Even the engineer.
"Don't worry, it's nothing bad! In fact ..!" She looked around excitedly, then anxiously as she struggled to find ... something.

Stepping further into the workshop, Lawrence noted the schematics all over the walls, taking particular interest in some blueprints for a glorious ship of Marleybonean style with high-tech Valencian boosters and forty heavy-duty twenty-pounders. There were small inventions all over the floors, benches and work spaces, the larger ones (such as a pair of golems, what looked to be a failed creation of Daedalus that she had been tinkering with, and a steam-powered doohickey that they had found along the Banditoad Trail) were tucked in the corners or behind curtains. There were lights handing from the ceiling and anchor lights on all the workbenches, however the space was still darker than the Marlybonean sky.

"AHAH!" Gracie exclaimed, half-buried under a pile of failures and scrap metal.

"Well, I didn't think it'd end like this."

It was surprising how often Lawrence found himself uttering these words. Especially when he was in the presence of a certain Captain Carter and their evil sidekick Cameron Jackson. The trio were bound to the mast of a burning fire ship, The Sinking Fool, the hold packed with naptha and fireworks, sailing straight into a fiery vortex to uncharted stormgate just to top it off.

"You know, by collaboration, this is not what I had in mind."

"Shut up, Lawrence." 

"I don't suppose that you have any of those brilliant escape plans in mind like you always do, Jackson?"

"I'm working on it."

"Tremendous."

"Will you two shush?! This is how we got in this mess to begin with."


It all started one windy morn at the docks. The sky was fair and the skarakeets were singing awfully to hail the glorious - if slightly breezy - day. Two of the captains were casually chatting while their rather honest ships made ready and their firstmates ordered around their crews to make smart.

It was all rather calm and ordinary until their mutual comrade came marching down the pier to meet them.

"I just received intelligence of an assignment. Involving all of us."

"From whom?" Lawrence asked warily, taking the formal dispatch message and reading it carefully.

"Avery. He's afraid that those shrimp guys are back."

"Prawns."

"Whatever."

"Examine the remains of the fire ship and report back. Make it snappy. Huh. Seems we better get going then." Catherine read aloud, handing it back to Cameron.

"We can take my ship. It's waiting for us."

"Where is it?"

"On the other side of the island, in the secret loading dock."

"Of course it is."

"Come on."

So the trio mounted their rides and rode swiftly through town, leaving them outside the entrance to the old tunnels that run under the entire island.

"We seem to spend a lot of time in sewers." Remarked Catherine as she carefully avoided the spiders and debris while Lawrence eyed the rats that liked to dart out in front of them.

They rounded a corner and dodged some outward jutting pipes, barely managing not to disturb a nest of crawlies and various other critters. 

"Yarr, 'bout time ye got 'ere." Growled a familiar voice.

"We had to go through town, Ratbeard."

"Pshaw. I know ye go ta th' tavern without us."

"I an' I thinks you have a problem, Captain, my Captain."

"What? I do not-!"

Cameron's ragtag crew shushed when they saw that their Captain had brought company. Well... What classified as quiet for them at least.

"Oh, I didn't know this was gon' be a collocation."

"You mean collaboration?"

"Quiet! Ratbeard, are we ready to make sail?"

"Aye, Cap'n!"

"Then all aboard! Hurry up!"


The ride would've been smooth if Cameron didn't insist on provoking every Monquistador, Cutthroat and humble Fisherbird that had ever sailed on this part of Skull Island. Either Ratbeard had an iron stomach or was hardened to his Captain's driving by now, because Lawrence certainly was not. Although he faired better than Catherine, who was currently hanging overboard, utterly skysick.

Just when they thought it might never be over, from the fighting tops a voice cried out. 


"Ship-ho!"

It had once been a magnificent vessel of colossal size, larger than even a galleon. Even now, as only a husk of it's former self, what remained was still very impressive. 

"I don't see any activity." Lawrence said, passing along his spyglass to the others.

"Why did Avery send us all the way out here?" Catherine studied the shipwreck keenly.

"I don't know. He must be spooked by something. Can't we get any closer?"

"There's too much debris, Cap'n! Yer gonna have ta take one of th' longboats ta get a better look."


With the boat lowered, four pirates loaded themselves in to investigate some ghost stories for a fretful old man. Catherine Carter, Cameron Jackson, Lawrence Radcliffe and a swabbie called Terry rowed over to the fire ship, grumbling and muttering the entire way. They tied up the little dinghy at the old creaky dock that was little more than flotsam and left Terry there in case they should need assistance.

All the while, they kept their hands on the hilt of their weapons, ready for an ambush, one that never came. They picked over the rubble carefully, but there was nothing to be found.

"Avery is getting skittish in his old age. There's nothing here." Catherine turned over a piece of broken and charred wood.

But just as she said that, something emerged from the ash. A shadow that stood twice their height and lumbered as if holding a great weight on it's shoulders. From it came the sound of clanking chains. The trio immediately drew their swords.

"NOTHING HERE?!" The creature snarled.

From the haze of the wreck appeared a strange fish creature. It's hide was the colour of smoke, as if it were charred from the flames that destroyed this ship.

"I AM HERE."

What stood before them was the strangest lagoony they had ever beheld. It was twice the size of the rest of it's kind, the frill that framed it's face so torn and frayed that all that remained were the spines and horns that jutted out of it's jawline like wickedly long teeth. It's face was covered in scarred tissue and it wore a eyepatch over it's right eye. It squinted at the three blurred shapes before it.

"My marooners have returned to jeer at me?" It sneered.

"Uh... Sorry, who are you?" Catherine asked, looking up at the monster warily.

The creature carried strange weapons that seemed to be daggers of some sort, connected to long chains it had wrapped around it's wrists which it now twirled in a showy way as if to try and threaten them.

"MY NAME IS JASON!" The creature wailed, making the pirates take a step backward, just in case the next turn of phrase was going to be 'and get ready to rock!'


Fortunately (or perhaps not), they were not about to be assaulted by a musical performance.

The creature stared pointedly at the small band of pirates and grinned in the most gruesome manner possible.

"AND TODAY YOU SHALL DIE."

With that, the creature charged.


The trio of pirates all rolled out of the way, coming up behind Jason with weapons drawn. The lagoony just spun around, swatting them out of the way with a great webbed hand. 

"Woah!" Lawrence clumsily ducked out of the way, barely being missed by a full set of claws while Catherine and Cameron did so with much more grace. The three of them fell back while the lagoony caught his balance again. 

"Plan?" Catherine asked, keeping her eyes on the lagoony at all times.

"Attack hard and attack fast. Don't get hit." Jackson replied.

"Great."

"RAHHHHHHHR!"


The trio went to all sides, surrounding and circling the lagoony in co-operation like a well oiled machine, keenly looking for an opening. It only watched them with a single red bloodshot eye with the look of a cornered animal, wild and panicked. 

With a great roar, it started whirling it's chains, spinning so quickly as to become a hurricane of blades. Catherine danced out of the way on light feet while her privateer comrades struggled not to be entangled and sliced to pieces.

The lagoony smirked, revelling in his small victory. He spun the strange weapon furiously, chasing his enemies into a corner. The duo backed up to the edge of the deck, and for a fleeting moment Lawrence and Cameron looked at each other, the panic in their eyes clearing for a moment of realisation.

Jason towered over them, cackling to himself like a mad man. 

"Not so tough without all your guns and explosives, are you now?!" He rumbled.

"Not too smart, are you?" Lawrence noted.

"WHAT?!" The creature roared.

"He was only a pawn of the prawns, after all."

"I WILL END YOU."

The lagoony drew the knives, the steel glittering in the sunlight, but the two privateers did nothing to avoid them.

Then, appearing as if from nowhere was Catherine, smashing a board and nails over the lagoon's head.

CRASH.

"... Uh oh."

Jason spun around, completely unaffected, and grabbed the rogue as if she weighed nothing. 

"I was going to kill you in a honourable fight, but now I'm thinking otherwise..." 

"AHHHHH!" Came a yell from down below.

The lagoony looked down at the tiny pirates desperately trying to break his thick hide. He plucked them from the ground as if they were grapes ripe for the picking. He sneered at them with his one good eye.

"You have guts. I'll give you that." He examined the petty little pirates with newfound interest.

"...But I'm still going to end you the way you tried to end me."


... And the last thing they saw was a wicked smile of pure evil ...


"... You were the one who used a piece of charcoal as a weapon."

"Hey! I saved your life."

"We saved yours!"

"I didn't need rescuing."

"...He had you in the palm of his hand. Literally."

The trio bickered to themselves while they sailed away on the slowly burning raft. It wasn't until the smoke had started to get thick enough that they couldn't see the pit of fire they were about to sail into that they started to worry.

"If this really is the end... I hope you know that I love you both."

"Shush, Lawrence! We're gonna be fine." Catherine growled, desperately trying to cut their bounds with a dull knife.

"What."

"This isn't the time to get sentimental. Just give me a mo-!"

Suddenly, their restraints went slack. 

They were free.

"I thought you could use a little help." Piped a reedy voice.
The scruffy swabbie stood before them with a knife in hand, ropes in the other and a smug grin on his face.

"Terry!" Lawrence and Catherine expressed their relief.

"Who?"

"No time. This thing is about to explode. Hurry!"

The swabbie dived overboard into a dinghy full of pirates. Not questioning him, the trio swiftly followed and in no time they were rowing away from a sinking wreck, it's flames a beacon that could be seen a mile away.

"Next time," Lawrence was saying as they were boarding their ship. "Next time-"

"-Next time, Avery can give his assignments involving explosives and lagoonies named Jason to another band of pirates." Catherine finished.

"I can drink to that."

"Here, here."


After that day they never met another lagoony called Jason. Oh, they met Andrew, Steve, Brad and Bartholomew, but never another Jason.

At least, until a faithful day in the darkest depths of the Scaley Warren, where a certain privateer met a strange pirate of the very same name ...

"Captain! The fire is out of control, it's spreading to the cargo hold,"
A look of dawning realisation spread across Nightingale's face.
"The hold is filled with naptha...!"
"She'll blow any minute now." Vane confirmed grimly. "We have to fight our way above-decks,"

The captain smiled with a devious sort of grimness.
"Then let us give 'em a fight to remember."
She drew the burnished steel of her blade.

They kicked down the door of their prison, much to the surprise of their captors. A pair of startled guards armed their pikes warily, staring into the dark doorway where mist swirled.  Then there was a spark.
Out of the dust and smoke flew a bullet followed by the flash of lightning of a thunderbuss. The first guard fell to the ground. The other turned to flee but was halted by a knife implanting itself into his shoulder. He promptly fell to the ground.

From the darkness inside the doorway strode Captain Miranda Nightingale and her Lieutenant Vane. She plucked the thin blade from the groaning and stunned soldier while her comrade reloaded.

"Do you think we can make it in time?"
"So long as we don't get caught we should be-"
"YOU THERE! HALT!"
"-So much for that."
"Phah, it would've been too easy anyway!" She said cheerily, drawing her cutlass and spinning it around in her hand in the most dangerous of manners.

The swashbuckler ran at the troops directly, holding the long edge of her sword above her head before disappearing in the smoke of gunfire.

The sergeant could hear the troops fall around him as their vision was blurred to being nonexistent by haze of combat. He caught a glimpse of a shot of lightning fast enough to avoid it, but he could not see past the end of his nose in all this fog, he needed a clear shot. He ran out of he smoke, followed by the remnants of his subordinates, coughing and waving the fumes from his eyes.

Something caught the his eye, and he raised his sword just in time to intervene the rapier that came crashing down upon his head.
Nightingale growled with annoyance.
"I don't wanna fight you! Just let us go so we can fight another day."
The warrior got up from his knees and wielded his weapon with more force.
"No can do, pirates."

He broke contact, shoving his opponent away before parried her attempt to counter. She deflected the blow and riposted, using the flat of her blade to rap his wrist. He dropped his weapon and the sword went crashing to the ground. She kicked it overboard. The sergeant looked looked he as if he were about to start fighting with his fists when Vane appeared with the young soldier as a hostage, pointing the sparklock quite firmly at his head.
"We don't have time for this. The hold will explode at any moment."
The sergeant looked surprised.
"The hold is on fire? The Marshal-!"
"-Is long gone."
"He has betrayed us!" The sergeant growled.
"He meant to start the fire?!"
"No time for this now, lets go!"

The Red Dawn cruised through the dusty trails of the El Pollo skyway like a knife through butter. The landscape was bathed in the warm light of a magnificent sunset. But despite the generally majestic setting, there was quite a clamour going on the deck.

In celebration of another marvellous year upon the winds, the plucky pirates had gathered on deck. Ratbeard had dug out his old accordion while Sarah Steele tuned her fiddle until it didn't sound like Terry screaming.

"I don't think it's 'sposed ta sound like that." The old rat grumbled to Sarah.
"Ugh, my sensitive ears!" Jack complained from the sidelines.
"I can hear you, you know!" Sarah did what sounded like strangling the poor instrument, and then played something that didn't sound like complete torture.

"It's nice to be home." Vane thought aloud, leaning gently on the railing, watching the dusty clumps of rock known as Cool Ranch tumble on by.
"I thought you were raised by sewer rats?" Nightingale asked. "Uh, no offence."
"For awhile, yes. But as soon as I could shoot straight I jumped onto a ship after hearing stories of pirates - and found myself here. An orphanage took me in until I decided to make a name for myself in the Resistance. That's when the Armada arrested me."
"Oh, well. I was arrested for attacking an Armada Officer after he said that my bear friend was fat. I was drunk."
"You were always destined to be a pirate, weren't you?"
"What can I say, it's in my blood."

Just as this conversation seemed to draw to a close, the music grew louder. Tonka had joined the band and was beating a mighty drum that resonated through the boards of the deck while Louis was playing a strange instrument with a crank that made a noise like a Bonnie's bagpipes and a bee combined. With these new band members, Ratbeard and Sarah finally seemed to be in sync.

"Oh! I do wish they'd turn down this racket!"
"Emmett, you're almost bad as the Captain."
"I'm standing right here, Jack."
"-Oh sorry, Captain, I didn't see you there."

Lawrence, Jack, Emmett and El Toro had been sitting on the sidelines when the music turned from utter chaos into an actual song. El Toro almost seemed to squeal with delight when Mustang Sally took the floor and beckoned him forth.

"Ah! My love, it's our song! -Err, excuse me, my Captain, my friends."
"Go ahead, El Toro. Our good Captain Lawrence here isn't going anywhere."
"-Excuse me?"

On the starboard side, Vane and Nightingale watched the horned menace and his bride strut about for the small gathering of pirates. El Toro had somehow procured a single red rose which he held in his mouth as he danced around the horse woman, their hoofed feet tapping on the deck rhythmically. The duo made their way to the forecastle, where the band was playing, and Carolina belted out something none of the pirates really understood. El Toro continued to dance around the singing mare, this time procuring maracas.

"That seems like fun." Vane remarked, watching the show with a nostalgic smile on his face.
"Oh no, nuh-uh! You are not dragging me out there. I do the dragging when I want to."
"All I ask you to do is to stand there like an idiot, or is that too challenging for you?"
"Hmm!" The she-pirate mocked. "I'd say that you shouldn't push your luck, Lieutenant."
"Come on." He took her hand, and although hesitant, she followed.

Nightingale tried her best to fake a confident smile, but it just looked as if she were in pain or had trapped wind - much to Vane's amusement. But her mild mortification was only about to get worse.

"Ay! Good on you, amigo!" El Toro called, tossing the rose to Vane, whom caught it in midair been his surprisingly hygienic teeth. You know, for a pirate.
"So now what-?"
Almost the second she opened her mouth, the musketeer started moving his feet in the most hypnotic of manners, perfectly in sync with fast-paced music. He circled the dumbfounded swashbuckler, clapping his hands and making her feel like she was about to be mugged or something.
"Show off." She muttered, which made him smile.

She felt stupid just standing there while he pranced around her like a show pony. So when he faced her again, she started to mimic him. At first he just cocked a brow at her defiant smile, and no sooner did it turn into an all out dance battle. She was strangely talented at this bizarre and complicated dance, mimicking him perfectly.

And then she started adding her own swashbuckler-esque flair.

"Who is the show off now?" Valerian asked after she did a complicated spin. She only winked.
Next thing he knew, she had somehow come into possession of the rose, most likely pilfering it right under his nose. Literally.
She rubbed it in by completely changing the dance style, suddenly moving like the mighty bears of her homeland in what they called Hopak, while wiggling her eyebrows mockingly at him.
"Okay, okay. I get it. You win." He laughed.
With this, Nightingale grinned broadly. She turned around to face the very small gathering and bowed dramatically, tossing the rose into the crowd.
"Phew, I need a drink." Valerian puffed, excusing himself from the dance floor.

"Does anyone else dare challenge our fair, our fierce, Captain Nightingale?!" Announced Mustang Sally.

"This guy does!" Called someone, and then shoved Lawrence into the spotlight.
"Er- Huh? What?" The startled captain stuttered, taken completely by surprise.
"No, no! I'm perfectly fine, thank y-"
"Lawrence?"
"Mir-! Uh, Captain Nightingale. Nice to see you ... again." He coughed.
"Uh-huh, you too, Radcliffe." She raised a brow, smiling.
"Please excuse me, I didn't-"
"I know, but you're not getting out of it that easily." She grinned. Lawrence didn't like the look that devious gleam in her eye.
"No, really, I should be getting back to-"
"To whom, exactly? Perhaps you could introduce me to them."
"Erm..."
She laughed.
"Come on, you coward. It's only a jig."

Ratbeard seemed to be having a little trouble with his accordion, either that or he was really getting into the music. Both he and Sarah were stamping their feet as Nightingale hopped along the deck, leaping onto the railing and rallying the crew like she was herding buffaloons. When they were all lined up on the dance floor she seemed to appear out of nowhere and took Lawrence by the crook of the arm.

"Are you ready?" She asked cheerfully.
"No. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"Good!"

With that she dragged him over, and together they ducked and twirled out of the way of the other dancers as if they were on a obstacle course made of pirates. When they reached the end, each pirate faced each other. Jack and Bonnie, Milo and Gracie (it's impossible to refuse the rat), El Toro and Mustang Sally, Lieutenant Springer and Nurse Quinn, and Radcliffe and Nightingale. They took each other by the arm and twirled around on one leg until they were dizzy, as was demonstrated by Gracie who keeled over midsong, while Mustang Sally and El Toro tried to untangle themselves.

The remaining contenders who had managed to stay on their feet righted themselves and took each other by the arms and hopped around in circles until the world spun. Somehow, they found each other's sides to line up again and kick out their legs 'like the crazy mares at the saloon' Sally would instruct them. Jack and Springer excused themselves from this one.

It was the last two pirates standing. The duo circled each other, holding their hands to the sky. The song finished and left them staring into each other's eyes.

After a short silence Lawrence opened his mouth to say something, but it was left unsaid as Nightingale finished off their performance with another deep performer's bow. The privateer just stood there gaping for a moment, until she stamped on his foot to make him pay attention. He bottled his protests and joined her, swooping into a deep gentleman's bow. The audience of pirates who had been watching their captains dance together cheered.

"What did I miss?" Lieutenant Valerian Vane asked, returning with his drink in hand.
"The Captain - er, Captains, just finished." Emmett responded.
"Oh? Was Lawrence dragged onto the floor in my absence?"
"He wasn't the only one. Ugh, how do you lot do it?" Gracie complained, firmly sitting on a barrel Milo had found for her. He felt bad for dragging her into this.
"It's not that hard y'know." Bonnie Anne chirped, not even panting.
"Says the one from Albion! I hear foxes have parties like this every other night." Jack Russell said, gripping the rail for dear life.
Bonnie just laughed at this, and didn't bother correcting the terrier.

"Hmm. Will you excuse me. I'm going to go talk to RatBeard and Sarah for a second."
"What are you up to, Vane?"
"Nothing." The musketeer grinned deviously, taking his leave.

"Not too bad, Lawrence. Perhaps you don't have two left feet after all."
"Thank you?" The privateer wasn't too sure what to make of her compliment.
"How about one more round, ehh?"
"I think you scared off everyone else." Lawrence noted the collection of ragged pirates passed out in barrels behind them.
"Ah, we don't need them!" The she-pirate chuffed.
"So, what's your forte, Jose?" She asked, only just catching sight of Vane leaving the forecastle where the band was playing.
"Well, uh..."

Just then, a very brisk and Valencian sounding piece blasted from the front of the ship. Was that a waltz? Who taught Ratbeard a waltz?

"-This is, actually." Lawrence said, almost under his breath.
Nightingale raised an eyebrow.

As the music got into full swing, Lawrence gave his fellow captain a stiff leg and took her gloved hand in his own.
"Would you oblige me this dance?" He asked very formally, deep in his bow.

Nightingale felt like her face was on fire, but with a curious look she nodded, and Captain Radcliffe led her to the floor. He noticed that despite all her prior grandiose she seemed completely and utterly lost. He slightly pitied her and all her stumbling, but soon enough she learned to follow his cues, and they were dancing rather than treading on each others' feet.

For a while there was only awkward silence as Nightingale tried to get her blushing under control and for Lawrence to get the nerve to look her in the eye. Finally, the swashbuckler decided to say something.

"... Ballroom dancing?"
"My foster father made sure I was ... well cultured."
"My foster father made me wrestle a small bear and drink a pint before bed."
Lawrence looked horrified, which made her burst into almost manly laughter. She seemed more comfortable after that, even though she still looked a little ... uncomfortable. And constipated.

Lawrence wasn't entirely sure what he expected when the swashbuckler told him that she would bring backup. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't this.

Somehow the pirate always managed to be in the right place, at the right time. Usually when least desired, and usually in the most unpractical of fashions. Despite her reputation as a stealthy swashbuckling rogue, she was quite the opposite. Her entrances were like those out of one of her novels. Lawrence wasn't quite so sure if they were based off of her experiences, or if she had simply gone mad from writing such things.

Whatever the case, Lawrence was immediately suspicious when a highly convenient runaway carriage came barrelling it's way toward his captors. Most of the tin soldiers moved out of the way, while others tried to shoot it down or were simply too slow. But in such little time what had transpired was about to go topsy-turvy, and the arrested privateer could only watch the following events with fascination and horror.

---

The swashbuckler had perfectly intended on returning the stolen carriage. Only now it would be problematic, as it was little more than rubble and a few smouldering splinters of wood.

In fact, her plan was a tad bit piratical, extravagant and dangerous, even for her. As she noted the blatantly obvious look of 'what in the world are we thinking?!' upon his face, she wondered if perhaps it was a good idea to take her first mate, Lieutenant Vane, along on this mission. She didn't blame him, of course. They were clinging on for dear life to the side of a carriage that was quickly approaching the side of a cliff, and perhaps worse yet; a company of Armada officers.

Despite her mild insecurities, she grinned at her partner in crime like a mad woman, in such a way that would terrify anyone else. The carriage was going so fast over such rugged terrain that parts of it were falling off. In fact, she was pretty sure they'd already lost a wheel ... or two.

They were drawing closer and closer by the second. Their target was on point. Her partner nodded to her. She mouthed three words. 'Three, two ... one!' They both let go moments before the carriage bowled down several of the clockworks. She stuck a perfect landing, much to her partner's jealousy, as he went tumbling into the dust. She ran over to him and pulled him up roughly with a thickly gloved hand, chucking him his dropped musket. Without a noise, she drew her cutlass, it's burnished steel gleaming in the light. She stepped into the cover of the rising dust.

---

Two clockworks that had been functioning well and good moments ago fell. When a third bit the dust Lawrence knew that the promised reinforcements had arrived, and he wasn't merely dreaming - or dead. A round still sizzling with lighting whizzed past his ear as if to confirm his suspicions.

Armada soldiers dropped like flies until the shrill note of steel clashing against steel met Lawrence's ears. An Armada officer, a Captain by the of him, had raised his rifle mechanically out of reflex, and in doing so foiled a now rather annoyed swashbuckler. She snarled in a almost beastly fashion, breaking away quickly to slash at it's lower torso, feinting before thrusting at it's vital gears. It almost foiled her, but it was only to delay it's fate. With a growl of stubborn frustration, the she-pirate used a perhaps surprising amount of strength to pry off part of the clockwork's armour, only to jam it into it's chest. The mechanical man tried to move to attack, but instead made an awful noise and sparked embers. It groaned, then collapsed in a crumbled pile at her feet.

The pirate gave a crooked grin before making a sickening noise, spitting next to her decommissioned opponent's face. Without a second look, she spun on a heel and bowed with a flourish of her sword to her friend, the prisoner of war. She cut his bonds with another showy swipe of her cutlass.

Thus freed, Lawrence inspected her face for a moment.

"Are you insane?!" He cried.

This was when Valerian appeared from the settling dust, his still rifle smoking from use. He looked around at the debris from the battle, raising an eyebrow when he saw the brutally dispatched clockwork among them. Despite the hint of a smile at his lips, he spoke with complete seriousness.

"Remind me never to make you angry."

There were many awful cries from the many merchants packed in the court beside the modest loading dock. It was a slow beginning to what otherwise have been a promising day in Port Majesty. The small company of ships, mostly unsavory merchantmen along side some other kinds of shady looking characters bobbed harmoniously in the harbour. The whole dockside reeked of the briny tang of fresh fish, citris, and a foul stench rising up from the gutters where some other shady characters grew. Lawrence ducked and dove through the morning's traffic of traders and stood aside for a gaggle of giggling girls, touching the gilded brim of his tricorn his hat respectfully and blushing a little. As they finally disappeared from sight, he was somewhat startled as to have a loud little lump of brown blocking his path.

"YOU! Small pirate - you like fish!?" Loud Brown Lump insisted, looking the mildly intimidated privateer captain dead in the eyes.
"Pirate must think fish good! He smell like one." He seemed rather satisfied with this observation.
"Nanu Nanu sell best fish! - Good pineapple too. Very good. Nothing better than Rapa Nui pineapple. Makes good stew, too. - Monquistan pineapple no good. Can't make stew."
Lawrence felt his face flush, although smelling like fish was probably a compliment in Nanu Nanu's world.
He opened his mouth to make his excuses, however the enthusistic water mole still insisted.
"-PIRATE MUST HAVE PINEAPPLE!"
The water mole proudly displayed his barrel of smelly fish decorated with netting and some mighty fine pineapples strung about in a festive fashion.

So Lawrence left, quite humbled, with a lone pineapple in the cook of his arm and some fifteen gold poorer.

He was thankful when he heard the babble of one of Port Majesty's many fountains and the familiar sight of the two great guns that protected the west side. Standing on a crate of guns was a small figure, overlooking the going ons of the day with satisfaction. She recognized the familar sight of the Capan, although she had an odd look on her face when she saw he was carrying a pineapple. She chose not to question it, although as far as she could tell he wa a tad young t be a tad young to be getting married.

"Ay, Capitan!" She casually saluted the privateer, almost tipping her helmet off of her head in doing so.
"Good day t'you, Marchioness. How does it fair?"
"No trouble today -- although some idiot tried to smuggle maracas with the jellyfish venom -- and then we had the case of José challenging Nanu Nanu's brther to a duel, and-!"
"Thank you, that is all. Where is Bonnie Anne?"
"She left me in charge of the gunnery crew. I believe she is helping Señor Egg?"
"Very good." Lawrence bowed, tipping his hat and taking his leave, leaving the lonely pineapple with the baffled monquistador.
"Capitano! You forgot your .. wedding ... gift ..." But he'd already gone, this time avoding an overenthusiastic salesplatypus.

Egg Shen was found in the gardens, as usual. He was admiring the lovely orchids who had just recently come into bloom when Lawrence found him.
"How beautiful the garden is this time of year. We should plant more of these vines along the courtyard." He said as Lawrence approached. Lawrence found himself inlined to agree, although landscaping wasn't what he had come to talk about.
"Have you seen Miss Anne, perchance?"
"I passed the word that Ratbeard was looking for her this early morning, haven't seen her since."

So Lawrence found himself winding through the port again, past the stables where Jack was helping Iago with his steel shoes, past the town square and up the citadel stairs into the Casa de Castulean galley where an old bearded rat was commanding a sqadron of helpers at peeling potatoes by the dozens. He had his somewhat mattered beard tied up in what seemed to be old fishing net. A stout shortfaced cat with ribbons in his beard and hair was observing a shrill voiced human male and a sleepy-eyed rat with careful attention while eating discoloured foul smelling herring from a jar.
"Make sure to get rid of all the lumps!" The cat called to the two stamping ground in a trough full of boiled and buttered potatoes. Lawrence miracously lost his appetite.
"Yarr! Put yer backs to, ye bunch'a lil' nancies! My granny could mash better than that, n' she hasn't any feet! --Who's burnin' the brussle sprouts?!"

Bardaric would always sit alone in the dark corners of the tavern. He was a large man, well over six feet tall and as broad as they come. Nobody here would bother the carpenter, although he was quite unarmed but for something he held in his hands. He was brooding over it. Turning it over in his calloused hands, tracing the grooves in it. He had carved this amulet.

Eanlac entered the Prancing Pony, shutting the creaking door none too gently and tracking in muddy footprints.
"Good man, do you serve mead here? Yes? Very good. I will take two."
With two brimming vessels of gold, the long-haired men took to the main room of the tavern and scanned the area for a free seat. The room was filled with crooks and unsavoury sorts, their arses taking up most of the seats leaving many tables unavailable. There was only one that seemed inviting. There was just one man there. A large man at the end of the bench with not even an ale.
"Do you mind if I take this seat?"
Bardaric looked up briefly and grunted. "Go ahead."
The stranger sat down across from him, moving his dirty cloak out from under him so he wouldn't be sitting on it.
"Do you care for mead?" He asked, the gruff bearded man just grunted again and he slid the second mead across to him.
"What is your name?" Eanlac asked, taking his first sip of mead.
"Bardaric."
The blonde man nodded. "I am Eanlác, brother of Wraeculf, son of Eádulf." He peered over at Bardaric. "What happened to your hand?"
Bardaric hid his hand and what he was holding. "It's burnt." He replied bluntly.
"I assumed so. What were you holding, a necklace?"