Bragging Rights [Moshi, Taro]

A short period of time ago...

“I don’t understand, why didn’t we just leave the c*nt to bleed out there and then, it’s more than he deserved. But this, treating him, s-saving him? He killed Captain Scar and nearly the rest of our cre--”

The look the young women shot the other marine was so venomous it cut his sentence short, leaning in with an anger somehow intensified by her calmness she justified her reasoning.

“That’s precisely why. He doesn’t deserve death – he deserves more. Didn’t you see that look when I tried to cuff him, he was willing to die... he found it preferable. Those marks on his back, they show he used to be a slave, unfortunate I know, but when you do something like that you forfeit a right to pity. He’ll wish himself back under some pompous master after a day in Impel Down and that’s where I want him to spend every day of the rest of his miserable life. So as acting officer... of what is left of this crew, when I tell you to make sure this man survives, you better damned well listen. Understand?”

“Y-yes ma’am, err—Lieutenant, Sir!”



It had been two weeks since the incident. That was almost as much time spent here; rotting in the hull of this ship as he’d lived in the outside world as a free-man. The thought made him ill, the hurt ran deeper than any of the wounds that scattered his torso ever had. That given, he had to endure both that mental anguish and physical agony together, his body was bruised, cut and riddled with bullet wounds. Torn apart to the brink of death, the fact he was alive was a real testament to either the marine’s medical faculties or to his sheer grit and pugnaciousness, or indeed to any combination of the two.

In those two weeks, he’d spent at least one of them conscious, he was fairly certain of that. He’d had plenty of time to reflect on his career as a bounty hunter in its short-lived entirety. His exploits on Winchester Island had gained him a bit of a reputation in the small amount of time he’d inhabited it. Sleeping under a tree by night, rounding up scum by day and dragging them back to the lawful island half – he’d impressed himself. Now however, he had a new reputation. He’d been referred to as the Blood-Angel, a winged beast and all kinds of crazy names by the marines on board. All preferable however, to the ones he recalled from the Auction House. At least these had a degree of accuracy. Never of course had they addressed him like this directly, but then they hadn’t really addressed him at all. They had treated him with contempt ever since the exchange. Spit in his food, glares and streams of profanity were the only glimmers of human contact he got.

Prior to the exchange the woman, Captain or Lieutenant or whatever her face is called had visited a few times. She’d only stared though, long and coldly with a look Oaklan couldn’t himself decipher. It surprised him that his actions had surprised her so. Surely she was aware that he was a dog, blackmailed by her prior master- Captain Scar, the repulsive ass-sucker whose head he’d sliced off, into having to perform tasks against his will. Was it then his fault if they were all so loyal to a dead man or to a sense of marine order that they had chosen to engage him? He himself didn’t. Still on some level it tickled him, the very thing he’d been threatened with in order to work for Scar, Impel Down, was the same thing that this women wanted for him now. If he’d known what irony was, he’d have called it that, but he didn’t – this just amused him on some deep innate level, a sense of contradiction, or unfairness or something.

Normally, under such circumstance, when a massacre of this kind of magnitude was committed the perpetrator would have been jailed by now. But by the nature of the crime, he’d left the crew to few to sail. Hence why they’d called in for a second ship, the ship they’d waited to arrive, the ship he now inhabited and the ship that was now, unbeknown to Oaklan in the sights of a pirate crew, a crew known as the Blackeye Pirates.

Prowling the perimeter of his confines like some caged tiger, the cuffed swordsmen had been doing this on a daily basis. Attempting to rehabilitate his body, making sure everything got back into functioning order by performing basic movements. Now the pain had subdued enough for him to be able to move like this relatively comfortably, but as the ship suddenly shook and the Shandian ungraciously toppled onto his backside he couldn’t help but wince as some pain flared up internally.

“Urgh... what the fuck?”

What he would have put down to some obstacle or bad weather was quickly dismissed as the erratic movements of the ship continued. Not familiar with sounds of canon fire, nor sea battle or much of the world at all really, it was still evident to Oaklan what was occurring outside. Footsteps sounded to the far end of the corridor outside his cell, growing louder as men crossed from his periphery and continued on passed his cell.

“Hey! What’s goin--”

Unsurprisingly he found himself ignored. Not that he minded particularly, in fact despite himself he was quickly filling with a hopefulness he’d learnt not to trust. He was unsure of the threat outside, likewise he was unsure of the equivalent fighting strength of the crew of the vessel he inhabited. Marine ranks made little sense to the would be sell-sword, nor was it information he was privy to. All he knew was the commanding officer of this ship was more commanding than the bossy, bitch submission fighter lady that had inherited command of the last. With so many variables he couldn’t count on some fearsome swashbucklers freeing him, but what he did know was this the best opportunity he was going to get. It was time to expose his ace in the hole, after all one didn’t spend a life of captivity without learning a few tricks. With some force the young ex-slave dislocated one shoulder and then the other, and began to wriggle his cuffed arms. Then with one decisive leap he brought his arms under his tucked legs and out in front of him. After some more strained effort, he managed to force his shoulders back into their sockets, hands now positioned, still cuffed at the front of his person.

“Great... now what?”

“Hey, what are you doing!?”

The voice was close and so he hastened, something big was going on, the ever more familiar sound of clashing steel ringing off in the very immediate distance. The pressure, the frantic desire to escape, his freedom was almost palpable. Twisting the feather he felt something move, the lock shifted a little, he was close–




A shadow on his periphery drew his attention. Glancing up his wild reddish eyes locked with the marines, lunging on reflex he managed to grip the man’s collar through the bars in spite of his cuffs. “You, let m--”

A thunderous eruption sounded as a cannon ball ripped through the hull, splintering wood and shattering steel as it tore deep into the ship. Debris shot into the air as the entire vessel shook; clattering, rumbling and dust were all that was discernible. Through the ruination Oaklan peered, pinned by something that was yet unapparent, he hurt but not much worse than before. That was likely a good sign. Clenching his fist the Shandian was surprised to find cloth still in his grasp – he was lying aside the marine with only remnants of the iron gate that were moments ago his cell separating them. Hauling himself upright, whatever was atop Oaklan slowly shifted forward before joining the rest of the wreckage upon the floor. Wasting no time the escapee already knew what he was doing, twisting around he forced himself toward the trapped marine and pushed his weight atop it to assure he stayed that way.

“Look here, here!” he said shaking the still dazed man. The eyes that met his seemed to fill with fear, even more than the situation already demanded, no doubt a product of the tales they’d been telling about the man yelling at him. “I’m gonna’ ask this once, only once right? Good. Where are the keys to these stupid handcuffs?”

Letting out a cough, the trapped marine spluttered a response, “uch—they’re in the smaller officer ch-chambers. That Lieutenant woman... she had them... upstairs, right before the--” he let out another cough, “before the main deck. Just d-don’t, don’t...”

“Shut up!”

Oaklan wheeled around aggressively, the sound of loutish footsteps descending the littered stairs alerted him to a possible threat. Decisively he aimed a solid punch to the marine’s head in a hopeful attempt to leave him in a state in which he would be unable to aid the new arrivals, before hastening to find a place to conceal himself.

The two men that arrived were thuggish looking guys, about average builds but definitely worn by the rough life. Nonchalantly the one dispatched with the groaning head-butt recipient before glancing around curiously. The upside of this predicament, they weren’t marines.

“Not sure if there's anything down here but dying marines... This looks like a holding cell, but it doesn't look like anyone was in it,”

The pirate indicated the shell of Oaklan’s former cage, indeed there was little in there originally to imply his existence, other than he himself. Now in this state it was almost impossible to reason anyone was in it at all. Readjusting his position, the ex-slave clenched his teeth together hard, trying not to make any sounds of exertion or indeed pain.

“Well, might as well check around while we're down here. Could be somethin' valuable, ya know?”

With that the two men began to lazily clear away bits of lighter debris, simultaneously levering their blades over their shoulders. Dropping from his position propped amongst the beams above the two Blackeye’s were alerted to his presence as he landed with a thud and a rattling of chains. Before the first could turn however he found the chain around his neck. Using the cuffs to throttle the unfortunate pirate, at least briefly, the second man turned to see the unusual set of features glaring angrily from behind his comrade. With a quick slam, the skull of the first man found that of the seconds, relinquishing his hold the swordsmen moved quickly, grasping at the freshly wiped blade that now lay upon the floor before coating it with a fresh layer of blood.

Moments later the Shandian was hurtling up the stairs, cutlass held in two chained hands. He approached the top quickly and much to his disbelief a familiar face greeted his, a face masked in similar disbelief.

“You!” she yelled, none of her disdain was lost in the backdrop of desperate fighting and death. She stood at the entrance to the lower quarters, behind her was the deck and dark silhouettes dancing back and for. No key was apparent on her, but the passage to the right was indeed there, she however stood little than a meter from it. The confrontation it seemed was inevitable. Charging forward even with hands tied Oaklan knew himself able to perform his opener, the Bull Rush. It however, lacked the same impact it would have had with a larger blade. Still as he closed in on his enemy it was still steel he held in his hands. Dodging forward however, he found himself once again in her tricky grasp, the blade wedged between them as she performed the practiced moves of a submission fighter. Attempting to trip the larger prisoner, she wedged her feet between his and the two became tangled staggering into the melee of the main deck.

“Enough C—Lieuten... Bitch!” he yelled as he delivered a crunching forehead slam right into the face of that infuriating woman... and she was infuriating. Yet as she staggered back he couldn’t quite bring himself to follow through, instead opting to send a kick to her gut pushing her further into the fray. It proved none-less a death sentence, for but a second later some pirate must have caught sight of her uniform or something because with a single bang her brains were splattered on the bloody deck floor. Turning hastily it was Oaklan’s intention to head back inside, but he found his path blocked.

Indeed it seemed the fight was reaching its conclusion as the marine numbers were starting to dwindle. That said, the sound of fighting was still rife, particularly the sound of persistent clashing steel marking the battle of two titans. For once Oaklan made a regular and considered decision, dropping his blade as a sign of good will he exposed his chained arms. Whilst still ready to avoid any potential attacker he reconciled himself to the hope that these plunderers would see it right to free him. And well if not, that island in the background looked within a swimmable distance... when was the last time he’d swum?

“Anyone seen a bastard sword? Oh and err... I’m not with these guys, obviously... so ok?”

You reap what you sow, just one of many sayings that reflect a reciprocity between action and fortune. But as Oaklan stood his first attempt at diplomacy clearly going awry, faced yet again with nothing but adversity and disdain - he didn’t draw a correlation. This wasn’t some case of karmic justice; this was just yet more assholes doing what came naturally. One makes their own luck in this life and when Oaklan was making luck he did it with the end of a blade. As the grinning horde slowly advanced his eyes glanced to the floor, then to the ocean and finally back to the sea-rats. It was exactly then as he was weighing up his very limited options that he was offered a third.

A theme, there was a definite theme running in his accursed life. “Or yunno, die here. We're 'bout to burn this ship anyway. Might be a good idea to find yer sword, and probably the keys to those cuffs, before that.”

Another ultimatum from another Captain who sought to use the ex-slaves copious reserves of bloodlust to personal advantage and yet again this Captain would put steel in Oaklan’s hands... the whole world really was crazy. However, the Shandian had also learnt two very important lessons in his short bout of freedom. The first was not to make deals that compromise your freedom and the second was that just because you weren’t afraid to die, didn’t mean you should keep opting into it. For life was full of possibility, a possibility of escape and then there was death, death is its own kind of prison. As such, living if at all possible was the logical choice. The hardship of Oaklan’s existence then largely seemed to come from these two lessons in conflict with one another. Herein lay the dilemma.

On the one hand, he could join this crew, temporarily. Escaping would be a task but it seemed one he was getting increasingly good at. Still, associating with pirates, no matter how momentary wasn’t going to help his public profile. Then again the ship may have sailed on that one... or at least it would have if he hadn’t slaughtered the majority of its crew. On the other hand, he had death at least according to Bragger. Although if he had as good a read on Oaklan as he thought he did, he’d know that it would not be a death in fire. Normally he’d probably have opted to try and take out the whole crew here and now but circumstances were less than ideal. He was, despite appearances perhaps, still wounded. His hands were also bound and his sword wasn’t to hand, or hands in this instance. As such for the second time in less than five minutes the barbaric minded young man opted for the reasoned, civil option. Was positive reinforcement giving this young sword-swinger a new philosophy in life?

“Ya know, you may wanna consider the captain's offer. I mean, not like you were doing much locked away in this ship, right?”

“I’ll go err... get my sword” he grunted, with no trace of enthusiasm apparent in his tone.

His return was haste, it seemed what could be said of the marine laying dead below deck was that he was honest – and possibly a coward. For in place of cuffs were only rings of angry red imprinted in his flesh, a little raw but nothing really. In his now free hands was his bastard sword a present of the late Captain Scar, a present that had been received with little gratitude. Finally in place of a scowl was a more contented look, certainly not a smile but the power was slowly shifting back into his own hands. Perhaps he could manage to acquit himself by dealing with this entire crew or perhaps he didn’t need to. Life was full of possibilities.

With the marine warship soon to be nothing but a burning wreck the Blackeye flagship turned its attention back to its intended destination, Left Village. With this bearing in mind and arrival eminent it was apparent that although they were a fair few men down, the Blackeyes were also one man up and things hadn’t even began to get messy yet.

The bloodthirsty brigade of buccaneers had all piled onto their shabby ship, the new addition of the captive sell-sword joining them aboard. The anchor on the vessel was raised, already beginning to drift away from the graveyard warship. Bragger gave a nonchalant wave of his hand, the simple motion sentencing the ship, and any breathing bodies, to death. Glass broke against the bloodstained wood of the warship's deck as the thugs lobbed makeshift firebombs. The once-proud Marine vessel was engulfed in a blaze, marring the symbolic seagull of the Navy displayed on the sail. The captain of the Blackeye Pirates did not bother to watch as the plumes of dark smoke rose to the sky; the battle was already behind them. No need to dwell anymore. Some of his underlings did not have a problem reveling in the flames, whooping and howling like animals at the sight.

The criminal ship neared Raito Island, black-eyed skull displayed proudly upon approach. Normally in Left Village, the presence of pirates didn't cause much alarm. Sure, the pirates who came to the village left of the lighthouse did cause a bit of trouble once in a while, but for the most part the presence of outlaws was common. However, when the pirates approach with the ominous glow of a burning Marine ship behind them... Well, that was a bit different. The sight at least produced hushed whispers of concern amongst any witnessing villagers. Soon enough the Blackeye flagship bumped against the port, the anchor hastily thrown over the side as rowdy ramblers leaped from the ship onto the dock in a disorganized mess.

“Looks like it's showtime,” Zane said, directing the comment toward Oaklan as the tail-end of the crew made their way onto the island. The vice-captain followed closely behind Bragger, the men choosing to take the boarding plank. They both stepped onto the port in a cool and collected manner in contrast to the horde of hungry hellhounds that had amassed in the village. Bragger soon made his way to the front of the pack, thick captain's coat brushing past the pirates as they made way for their leader. Bragger stood in front of his men in silence for a moment, surveying the villagers in front of him. Many of them had dropped whatever they were doing, nervous beads of sweat beginning to form on many of their brows. Just what the pirates want? Finally, Bragger gave them their answer.

“So everyone, here's the deal. I might consider sparin' anyone who tells me what they know about the treasure in the center of the forest. We'll be takin' it one way or the other so might as well save yerselves some trouble.” Bragger spit a wad of tobacco onto the ground before giving another wicked smile, the restrained but frightening laughter of the other pirates joining in on the intimidation. “As far as yer all concerned...” Blackeye suddenly slammed the point of his bat into the ground in front of him, hands resting on the tip of the handle. “... This island belongs to Captain 'Blackeye' Bragger and the Blackeye Pirates!”

The villagers shifted uneasily, some even beginning to look fearful in the face of the bloodthirsty band of criminals. They had heard their share of bold talk from cocky pirates in the past, but these men seemed more concern with carnage than adventure. None of them answered, slowly moving away from the band in preparation for what looked to be a violent conflict. They were villagers, but they had gone toe-to-toe with pirates in the past. Finally, one voice did break up the silence. It was actually the sound of laughter, followed by the unsheathing of a blade.

“Hey, tough guy!” came a heckling voice. “You think you guys are the only pirates here looking for the treasure?!” Judging by the garb of the challenger, he indeed was a fellow pirate. A hand full of other men stood behind him, blades drawn as well. Bragger lifted an amused eyebrow at the other pirate, tilting his head in curiosity. The pirate was not standing up to the Blackeyes for the sake of the villagers; it was more a matter of pride and competition. “We'll just kill you so you don't get in our way later!” With the exclamation, the group of enemy pirates pounced upon the captain. Bragger made no effort to move though, grinning in the face of the attack. Just as it seemed like the whole threat might be averted upon the pirate captain being sliced to pieces, a sudden whirlwind of strikes sent the pirates crashing to the ground in crumpled heaps.

“Too easy,” Zane said with an unimpressed snort, landing on the ground gracefully and crossing his arms. Any villager that had not yet retreated to their house or the nearest place of business looked shocked at the swift disposal of the pirates. Bragger couldn't help but let out an amused laugh as the victims of the beating writhed in pain.

“I guess I didn't get a chance to introduce the man who just crushed yer skulls. This here is my vice-captain, Zane Bando.” The pirates had no response of course, too busy being unconscious or on the brink of it. Bragger looked to whatever villagers remained in the open before letting out a discontent sigh. “So no one is gonna talk, huh...? Oh well.” The pirate captain shouldered his metal bat and shrugged. “I was just kidding about earlier anyway. We ain't gonna spare a single one of ya!”

“YEEEEEAH!” The other pirates let out a roar of bloodlust, arms drawn and flailing in the air with satisfaction. A possible repeat of the earlier Navy battle looked to be at hand.

The man's nimble fingers danced lively across his instrument, conjuring a long trail of smooth notes that ebbed and flowed like the evening tide. One of his slower tunes, a bit of calm to ease the apparent tension that the bell's chime had brought. At first it seemed effective at alleviating the patron's worry, even the stoic fellow by the door (A superfluous affair really, given the open nature of the building's design) seemed to relax. But unfortunately, his efforts came undone when people in the street began stopping their daily activities and making a hurried pace towards the dock. One by one the customers stood up and left the establishment, either by their choice or the urging of another, to follow along with the rest of the crowd. Now, of course he understood that there were things in life that were more pressing than satisfying one's musical palate, but, well.

Jude was beginning to feel his work was going... unappreciated.

Eventually, when the grand total of their occupants dwindled down to a depressing zero, his employer made the decision to cut him loose, compensating him for his morning's work, and promising an even grander reward should he return after... whatever was going on, had been settled. And with that said, he locked up the inn (Again, an action whose purpose eluded him) and slipped off in the same direction as his clients. Which left the artistic fellow to his own devices. Not that there was anything in particular he saw to participate in, what with the population's preoccupation elsewhere.

With the promise of a generous offer, a tinge of curiosity, and little else to do, Jude decided to see what sort of happenings were underway. With swift feet, and a rather easy to follow path, the commute passed quickly.

“So everyone, here's the deal. I might consider sparin' anyone who tells me what they know about the treasure in the center of the forest. We'll be takin' it one way or the other so might as well save yerselves some trouble.” Came a coarse voice. The assembled villagers recoiled somewhat at the fellow's undisguised malevolence. And understandably so. Though his eyes could not see through the crowd to actually spot this villainous figure, his ears saw him. A jagged wound in the day's song, that raked any and all beauty that near it.

“As far as yer all concerned... This island belongs to Captain 'Blackeye' Bragger and the Blackeye Pirates!” Oh yes. He and this fellow were not going to get along.

A group of burly fellows, pirates by their words and actions, challenged the ill-tempered band. A few he recognized from his shift the night before. They had been entirely tame and respectful during their stay at that particular inn. It was a shame to see such good consumers laid out on their backs. And worse yet, they had not appeared to be particularly frail individuals either. That Zane fellow, the first mate. Formidable indeed. He did not believe himself capable of averting this situation with his normal means. Which left only the extraordinary ones.

Clearing his throat loudly, an act of showmanship more than anything else, Jude began to speak. His voice was loud, oddly so given his lack of any sort of amplifying apparatus, which served to overcome both the frantic stampede of fleeing village folk and the invader's gnashings.

"Ah, excuse me. Braggart, was it? Quite a motley crew you've assembled there. Did you just snatch up every cantankerous drifter and poorly-mannered bum between here and Stetson? Ah, no matter. Who a fellow chooses to bunk with is his choice alone, and should not be judged for it. Odd, though. If you are as mighty enough to enforce your claims, why are you not challenging the Toroa or Ilusia? Surely any riches here, in such a backwater country island, pale in comparison to what such an..." He paused for a moment, giving a mock attempt at concealing his chuckle. Looking back up, he finally identified both the man he assumed to be leading the others, as well as the bruiser that had moved to enforce his will. Zane's song was one of violence, sharp, like the rattling of a percussion drum. But that was nothing compared to the dissonance Jude heard screeching in his head from just looking at Blackeye... it troubled him.

"-illustrious fellow as yourself could acquire in a wealthier domain. Still, since you seem so dead set on snatching up the jungle's treasure, I suppose I could divulge its location. I am somewhat in the business of keeping my ear to the ground, you see. Just as I am in the business of keeping my hide. I believe that to be a relatively reasonable request."

“If this loudmouth bastard starts talkin' about anything besides the treasure, cut his damn head off. I don't wanna hear anything more out of him than I have to. Besides...” The Captain turned slightly in Oaklan’s direction, his crazed bloodlust entirely evident on his gruff features “... It'll give me a good chance to see what ya can do with that sword. Got it, Red Eyes?”

Red eyes, it was loosely accurate his eyes were a shade of reddish brown or perhaps brownish red, and with his wings unapparent they were the obvious striking feature in addition to the white mop atop his head. Having subdued his loath for orders and his consequential and seemingly ever constant rage, in a sought for future freedom, the prisoner come puppet pirate gave a slow, distant nod of obligation. His eyes turned to the sky as they sometimes did and he took a breath, a long slow breath of fresh air, and he found resolve.

Idly he began to twirl the blade, his long fingers flaring between strong and lax as the sword arched around his body making a light swishing sound as it cut the air. The move loosely resembled his ‘Butterfly Slashes’ a self taught move, a move that took a while to learn but had been exhaustedly practiced and the result was reflected in the lazy nimbleness of his fingers as they flicked the hilt causing it to spin in his light tan palm. His mind flashed back to his so called training, locked in a pantry many would have envied for a bedroom – a wooden broom in his hand. He had always held the thin end, the brush head representing the far end of the blade, by holding it so far down it was actually quite heavy and for years that had been his sword. His foes were not however crumbs and cobwebs, but conjurations; apparitions of current and former masters, of auctioneers and snide guests. The gruesome detail of his revenge fantasies had been exacted now in reality, but those men who had harboured the intense killing drive that now inhabited him still walked free; whilst he himself was here.

On reflection it seemed that the kills he’d made were a perversion, they felt good and were understandable but they hadn’t been what secured his freedom and now they hindered it. The willingness to kill or be killed had been what broke him from captivity, but somewhere soon after the lines had blurred. Killing begot more killing, but each kill came with a price. He’d escaped from a world with no choices, into a world of regulated consequence and he didn’t know how to mediate his actions. He didn’t know how to manipulate the outcome and whilst that was the very thing he’d wanted, this freedom, this unpredictability and open world – it felt as if every free moment was at war with the wrong choice, the choice that led back to a cage.

His reddish eyes fell back down to look upon the man he’d been tasked with killing, potentially. He was strange to behold, with pointed ears and almost golden eyes and a way of speaking Oaklan struggled to follow. His manner seemed cocksure but also pleading, he’d offered to divulge information but only after a chain of insults. If he was strong enough to merit this speak, then this treasure was a ploy or him messing around. Why then would he seek to barter for his own safety? This implied the opposite, that he was at Bragger’s mercy but then why the insults, surely that’s going to have the opposite to desired effect. Or perhaps he’s simply stalling... but for what. The opportunity he was waiting for had it come so soon, should he side with this oddball in the gamble that he provides a useful ally? Oaklan stared at the musician intently, he certainly didn’t look like much, relatively fit but fairly lithe at best... not a necessary indication of him being weak but nothing about him screamed the contrary either.

After pondering Oaklan decided he was probably a little bit mad and waited for his retort to Bragger. He didn’t see himself killing him and maybe his answer would please the Captain, but if not his sword-hand would be forced... probably. The swordsmen stood beginning to feel a slave to his own convoluted thought process, his own doubts... that wouldn’t do. “I’m done...” he quietly announced, largely to himself. With that he was indeed done, done thinking... what he’d do next he didn’t know but that was what freedom was about, the moment all we have is the moment. The future was its own kind of bondage.

Bragger awaited a swift response from Jude detailing his knowledge of the island's treasure, but instead the long-winded musician began another endless string of eloquent stabs at the cruel captain's character. As the bold berating continued, the grimy hand that was holding the pack of wolves at bay became heavier with each word. The death wish Jude seemed to have was inching its way to becoming a violent reality as the throbbing vein in Bragger's forehead grew. Gritting his tobacco stained teeth, the deceiver strained to keep his composure as the entertainer's irritating continued on without end or lack or eloquence. Bragger admittedly did not understand many of the words Jude was spouting. The pirate wasn't well educated in any means; Bragger's vocabulary was limited to what he had learned on the street or at sea. Sure, there was not doubt he could always get his point across; if not with a chat, then with his bat. However, Jude was on a different linguistic level entirely. What Bragger lacked in book smarts he made up for in intuition. Although the connotation of Jude's insults was flying over Bragger's head, the denotation was clear. The pirate captain knew when someone was insulting him.

Jude had succeeded in at least serving as a distracting. By the time he had finished to leave, Bragger's blackened eye noticed that many of the villagers had slipped away, those remaining having taken arms with every intention of defending their homes from the band of buccaneers. Bragger gave a frustrated sigh as it became apparent that Jude had duped him into allowing many potential victims to make a hasty retreat. “Oh well... Not like it matters where they go on this island,” the captain muttered under his breath before spitting another wad of tobacco onto the ground.

“Oh, right. I have a map of the safest route through the jungle.”

When the flute player finally produced what looked to be something useful, Bragger forced a crooked smile through his simmering anger. With a deep sigh, his posture straightened from the sunken slump it had become throughout Jude's verbal assault.

“Yeah, that's great. I'll make sure to have Red Eyes get that from ya.” Bragger looked to Oaklan, bringing a thumb across his own throat to signal the cue for the sell sword to deal with Jude. The pirate captain had no intentions of hearing anything more from the smart-mouthed singer. If there actually was a map in Jude's hand, Bragger was content with retrieving it from his corpse. “But, I've gotten pretty tired of all of this talking.” the gang leader's voice began shaking, the excessive prodding by Jude having apparently taken its toll. “So with that said...” the staying hand of Bragger dropped to his side, a murmur of excitement suddenly rolling through the crew.

“GO WILD, BLACKEYE PIRATES!”

Something had finally snapped within the captain, who would not allow anymore delays to the violence his crew craved. With a roar of approval, the bloodthirsty animals charged past their captain to begin the destruction of the village. Bragger stayed with his bat raised in the air and Zane beside him with arms crossed. There were a fair number of villagers who had stayed behind; more than one would expect when faced with the Blackeye Pirates. Although the numbers were not vastly different, the pirates still had the advantage. And in a fight between run-of-the-mill villagers and battle hungry pirates, well, the numbers being in favor of the latter definitely marked two strikes against the island residents. The ringing clash of weapons filled the air as the raid on the village began, the situation looking undoubtedly grim for Left Village and all of Raito Island.