Post by Die on Mar 27, 2014 11:05:24 GMT -5
Winchester Island, a place constantly at war with itself. Two sides perpetually engaged in conflict. The East side of the island had order under the protection of the Marines while the West had chaos. It was a lawless place rife with fighting in the streets while those with money set up high risk, yet very lucrative businesses in the area. Criminals and pirates fought other criminals and pirates. Violence was so commonplace, that it was actually considered an unusually quiet day when there was no one to bury.
Though conflict was typically localized to the West, every now and then an especially strong pirate crew came through the area. Though their methods differed from crew to crew, the end results were similar. They united the local pirates and criminals, and led them to battle against the Marine-dominated East side. The current crew holding power has been seen as potentially worrisome by some Marines, as the few recent skirmish had been particularly deadly ones.
The nightlife on the East side of Winchester island was in many respects a contrast with the daytime of this lawless zones. Pirates, criminals, and other outlaws flooded the numerous bars and taverns that decorated this area. Many enjoyed a peaceful drink with their compatriots, getting drunk, and having bar fights with one another. For some, this strengthened their sense of brotherhood. For others, they turned deadly.
In one such tavern sat a lone pirate with a mug full of beer. Dirt and grime decorated his skin, as it did with pretty much everyone around here. His blonde hair, held back by a bandanna, was similarly dirtied as well. Most of his clothing was standard pirate fare. In his case, he wore a simple red shirt and black pants. A pair of cutlasses over his back, the hilts extending up above his shoulders while a pair of flintlock pistols were holstered at his waist.
It was rare seeing a pirate alone in a place like this. In the sort of environment that was typical of the West, being alone was something best avoided. Outlaws here often banded together, mostly for survival. Those who found themselves alone typically did not last long.
The pirate took another swig from his mug as a larger pirate approached and took a seat beside him. He appeared to be roughly twice the size of the blonde and considerably more bulky in both muscular and blubbery terms. For a few seconds the blonde pretended to ignore his presence before putting down his mug and eyeing him. "Hey. Haven't seen you 'round these parts. What's yer name?"
Giving a nervous smile, the smaller pirate answered, "Name's Kurt. I just landed here this morning." It was clear the larger pirate had malicious intent behind his words and actions. He was looking to assert his power over the smaller pirate.
"Heh. Looks like more crews are stopping by this little rock. It sounds like you don't belong with them. Why's that?
"Well, I became a pirate not too long ago. Wanted a life beyond the boring island I come from. A life of adventure, y'know?"
The larger pirate eyed him suspiciously. It wasn't difficult to procure such commonplace items, but for a supposed greenhorn without any crew, he seemed pretty well-equipped. "Peh. Naive little rookies like you make me sick. You're no pirate." he spat as he lunged in and grabbed Kurt by the collar, lifting him clean off the floor. Kurt's eyes widened in shock at the sudden turn of events, gasping in surprise at being pulled and yanked off of the floor.
To escalate things further, the large pirate drew back his right arm, winding up for a punch straight to Kurt's face. As the fist came at him, he winced and moved his head to the left. The pirate's fist barely grazed the side of his cheek. Kurt's eyes quickly fixed themselves on the glass mug half-full of beer that he had been drinking out of. Stretching his arm out behind him, he grabbed the mug and swung it at the pirate's head, shattering it against his thick skull and dousing it in glass shards and spilled beer.
In surprise and pain, the large pirate released his grip on Kurt as his free arm flailed to the side, swatting another mug off of the counter and into the crowd of other bar patrons. It struck the back of the head of another pirate, who swung around wildly in his seat to see where the mug came from. Upon being unable to locate the source quickly enough, he threw a blind punch, striking another pirate.
It was with that the bar devolved into a massive fight. Chairs and mugs were thrown as often as punches and kicks. The barkeep seemed unfazed as he simply stood where he was, cleaning a mug with a rag while ducking the occasional flying object that inadvertently came his way.
Kurt's attacker wasn't done yet. Shaking off the impact, he leaped forward, attempting to tackle the blonde pirate. Kurt grabbed the pirate by the collar with one hand, and his belt with the other. Using the momentum from the tackle, he sidestepped and threw the large pirate onto the floor behind him. In the corner of the bar, a small group of pirates who stayed out of the fight observed him.
Observing a bruised ego in the larger pirate, Kurt readied himself as he got back up to his feet. "You! No one makes a fool out of me and gets away with it!" he shouted as he stepped in and unleashed a flurry of punches. Kurt ducked under the first punch and then sidestepped another. Given the larger pirate's height, it was easy for the blonde pirate to throw a punch straight into his gut. It might have been coincidence that he struck the solar plexus or it might have not, but it was enough to knock the wind out of the larger pirate and stun him. Using this to his advantage, Kurt planted his hands on his shoulders and leaped up, throwing a knee straight up into the lower jaw of the larger pirate and causing him to lose at least two teeth. He then finished off with a few punches to the head, causing him to collapse onto the ground in a broken heat.
By now the bar fight had largely stopped, with most of the outlaws either unconscious from the violence or the booze, or simply gone back to drinking and merrymaking with their compatriots. Kurt gingerly prodded the large pirate with a foot, making sure he was down for the count. A loud snoring told him that it was over. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as he sat back down,apologized for the broken mug, and ordered another beer.
The group of pirates who had been observing from afar made their way over to Kurt, standing behind and surrounding him. The apparent leader of this group placed a hand on his shoulder, firmly yet strangely inviting. "That was pretty impressive fighting there. Hard to believe it didn't take much for you to knock out Sam there," he said.
A thin member of the ground with a trench coat and knuckle dusters hanging slightly out of his pockets walked over the crumpled body of Sam, kicking him while he was down, "Nice job, dumbass, losing to this guy. Y'sure got yer ass handed to ya, by a loner rookie too!"
"Heh, leave 'im alone, Garan," said the leader. "He can't hear ya." He chuckled as he pulled a cigar from his jacket and lit it, taking a puff and blowing a ring into Kurt's face. The blonde pirate resisted coughing from the smoke. He squinted at him, with one eye to a greater degree than the other. A few seconds seemed to turn into a few hours as the gruff, bearded man scrutinized every detail of the greenhorn pirate he saw in front of him. "Hmmmm..." he murmured as he was lost in thought. Taking another puff of his cigar, he drew a dagger, bringing it close to Kurt's face. At this point it looked like the blonde was sweating bullets. Then again, most people would display some kind of discomfort if there was a dangerous weapon right up in their face. He brushed aside some loose strands of hair that had not been held back by the bandana. "That's quite the scar y'got on yer fore'ead," he said. "Howd'ya get that?"
"My momma told me not to play with knives when I was little. Guess I shoulda listened to her better, huh?" he said nervously.
With that the man drew back and sheathed his dagger and let out a hearty laugh, patting Kurt hard on the shoulder, "I don't know who this guy is, but I really like him!" Kurt breathed another sigh of relief when the dagger was put away. "Y'might be a newbie, but I never seen one drop Sam like you did. Y'got potential. Come! Come sit with us! The name's Haase!" he said as he extended an open hand towards Kurt.
"I'm Kurt," he grinned, gaining new confidence by his apparent acceptance into this group of pirates as he shook Haase's hand firmly. Not really being one to disagree with the deck of cards he was dealt with, Kurt nodded in agreement. The rest of the night was spent with more drinks and sharing stories. And by the end, most of the patrons were either passed out, thrown out, or simply left on their volition.
Haase's group were among the few that made it out on their own. There were roughly five of them, with one of them lugging Sam over his shoulder. Haase looked down at Kurt, "I wanna introduce you to our cap'n. He's a pretty powerful pirate in these parts and is lookin' fer promising recruits like you. He's got plans fer this island, big ones."
Big plans? This piqued Kurt's interest. He knew of previous crews attempting to wrest control of the Eastern part of the island from Marine hands before. Perhaps this one was going to do the same. "Sounds good, he said as he nodded in agreement.