Post by Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro on Aug 3, 2012 18:39:04 GMT -5
In the briefest of moments, the ragged ensemble's disharmonious recital was drowned out, eclipsed by a deafening roar. Jude turned, his interest in harass the combatants overwhelmed by a grim curiosity. Those around him were not quite so inclined to give up their focus so easily. But then again, they were unable to see what the wiry musician saw. The air rippled in time with a slow tribal beat, quailing in fear with each resurgent note that leaked from the bloody shadow. The tune was not one he knew, one he had ever heard, but it sent a chill up his spine. Something old, ancient even, that elicited a feeling of irrational fear in him. 'No.' He amended. 'Completely rational.' It wasn't just the shredded corpse that had his hair on end. The music which now consumed his vision was the theme to an apex predator. His body's reaction made perfect sense. That was a trick he would have to remember.
One of Braggart's remaining pirates, as dull or foolish as he had to have been to miss that display, seemed to be under the impression that Jude's inattentiveness made him an easy target. He crept up behind the sly-tongued bard, his pistol raised . But all his underhandedness earned him was a gut-full of gunpowder and hardened rubber, fired with enough force to knock the man off his feet. Jude hadn't even turned his head.
Crumpling to the dirt, the grounded gunsman could do little but grunt. "Why... why do you have so many of those?..."
"Because shut up." The musician quipped. Blasted sod interrupted him. Did none ever take the time to teach this fellow proper manners? Bending down, he made a quick judgement. A punishment of a kind. Snatching the man's hat off its perch, he transferred the article to his own head. A brown, wide brimmed cowboy-esque affair, too high a quality for him to obtained by legal means. Well, it was his now. "Furthermore, I'm taking your hat as part of my newly-implemented 'Annoying Person' Tax. Good day to you, sir." Taking a step back, he saw the other men staring at him, and proceeded to remove himself from the situation before anyone else suddenly fell under his tax bracket.
Zane made a show of declaring him and his supported separate from the villains that had invaded the island, and that they were reformed, but he doubted that would stand up in court. Then, the self-declared captain (He had always imagined it to be a more democratic process...) turned towards him.
“I know you're leaving, so mind not telling anyone about that last part...?”
"In for a berri, I suppose."
“I wish I had stopped him sooner. I don't have time to bury any dead, but I can promise you nothing like this will happen again.”
"Wait, we're going to have to help dig graves?" The prospect of back-breaking labor was not one that particularly appealed to Jude. After all, it is hard to appear dashing or heroic when you're wearing a layer of sweat and filth. Besides. A large portion of why he had left the proverbial roost was to avoid chores like that. His hands were delicate instruments! Which meant it was time that he made his leave.
Examining his wrist as if it were indeed equipped with some sort of time-keeping device (Of which it was not), he let out a theatrical gasp. "Why, would you look at that! It appears I am scheduled to depart this rustic shore to attend to other venues. A shame, yes, but such is the way of things."
"Brando, Red-Eyes. I wish you both luck in your endeavors." Jude declared, making his way up to both and giving each a hearty handshake. "That is, provided they do not involve murder, theft, war crimes, and generally anything that will reflect poorly back on me for offering my goodwill. In which case, I will deny ever having the pleasure of your company."
With nothing but a tip of the hat, and a flourish, he exited, stage left. Taking extra care to step over the discarded weapons and bodies. Overall, he was satisfied with the way things had progressed. He had been paid for a days work, though said work ended up being more trouble than it was worth. Minimized what might otherwise have been a disastrous event. And while the former paid more than the latter, he figured a good deed here and there would help his karma.
Moving swiftly as his feet could carry him away from what would soon be the epicenter of mourning, reconstruction, and naval activity (Marines, in his experience, rarely had an ear for his art), Jude moved to a small cove just outside of town, concealed by the all-consuming jungle. Taking a breath, he let out a long, shrill whistle, dipping into a frequency he himself could not perceive. The water bubbled in response, and the lurking figure below rose to the surface.
"Come along, Murray. Places to be, and all that."
One of Braggart's remaining pirates, as dull or foolish as he had to have been to miss that display, seemed to be under the impression that Jude's inattentiveness made him an easy target. He crept up behind the sly-tongued bard, his pistol raised . But all his underhandedness earned him was a gut-full of gunpowder and hardened rubber, fired with enough force to knock the man off his feet. Jude hadn't even turned his head.
Crumpling to the dirt, the grounded gunsman could do little but grunt. "Why... why do you have so many of those?..."
"Because shut up." The musician quipped. Blasted sod interrupted him. Did none ever take the time to teach this fellow proper manners? Bending down, he made a quick judgement. A punishment of a kind. Snatching the man's hat off its perch, he transferred the article to his own head. A brown, wide brimmed cowboy-esque affair, too high a quality for him to obtained by legal means. Well, it was his now. "Furthermore, I'm taking your hat as part of my newly-implemented 'Annoying Person' Tax. Good day to you, sir." Taking a step back, he saw the other men staring at him, and proceeded to remove himself from the situation before anyone else suddenly fell under his tax bracket.
Zane made a show of declaring him and his supported separate from the villains that had invaded the island, and that they were reformed, but he doubted that would stand up in court. Then, the self-declared captain (He had always imagined it to be a more democratic process...) turned towards him.
“I know you're leaving, so mind not telling anyone about that last part...?”
"In for a berri, I suppose."
“I wish I had stopped him sooner. I don't have time to bury any dead, but I can promise you nothing like this will happen again.”
"Wait, we're going to have to help dig graves?" The prospect of back-breaking labor was not one that particularly appealed to Jude. After all, it is hard to appear dashing or heroic when you're wearing a layer of sweat and filth. Besides. A large portion of why he had left the proverbial roost was to avoid chores like that. His hands were delicate instruments! Which meant it was time that he made his leave.
Examining his wrist as if it were indeed equipped with some sort of time-keeping device (Of which it was not), he let out a theatrical gasp. "Why, would you look at that! It appears I am scheduled to depart this rustic shore to attend to other venues. A shame, yes, but such is the way of things."
"Brando, Red-Eyes. I wish you both luck in your endeavors." Jude declared, making his way up to both and giving each a hearty handshake. "That is, provided they do not involve murder, theft, war crimes, and generally anything that will reflect poorly back on me for offering my goodwill. In which case, I will deny ever having the pleasure of your company."
With nothing but a tip of the hat, and a flourish, he exited, stage left. Taking extra care to step over the discarded weapons and bodies. Overall, he was satisfied with the way things had progressed. He had been paid for a days work, though said work ended up being more trouble than it was worth. Minimized what might otherwise have been a disastrous event. And while the former paid more than the latter, he figured a good deed here and there would help his karma.
Moving swiftly as his feet could carry him away from what would soon be the epicenter of mourning, reconstruction, and naval activity (Marines, in his experience, rarely had an ear for his art), Jude moved to a small cove just outside of town, concealed by the all-consuming jungle. Taking a breath, he let out a long, shrill whistle, dipping into a frequency he himself could not perceive. The water bubbled in response, and the lurking figure below rose to the surface.
"Come along, Murray. Places to be, and all that."