The Corsair Motherhood - Printable Version +- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums) +-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9) +--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56) +--- Thread: The Corsair Motherhood (/showthread.php?tid=168144)

The Corsair Motherhood - Madvillain - 02-18-2019 The Corsair Motherhood "The Corsair Empire in many ways seems to be a universe of it's own. It evolved and continues evolving out of touch from the Sirius Houses. There, the abnormal is mundane. The unthinkable reality. Superstition and pride in place of reason and pragmatism. Overwhelming in it's diversity, yet almost comical in its simplicity." -Dr. Richard Flinch, Anthropologist in his Study of the Edge Worlds. It was early in the morning, yet the red dwarf of Omicron Gamma already heated the pavement of Sitia. It was on one of the many squares of this equatorial city on planet Crete, that Faustina made her way to her favorite bench. She was in her late fifties, though the high temperatures and her life of worries made her skin look much older. It was like history wrote its tale in the many wrinkles that adorned her bronzed face. What was underneath her skin though braved the test of time well. She was quick on her feet as she marched through the mass of people going about their daily life. The Corsair empire was one of many cultures and ways of life and this reflected in Faustina's surroundings. The market she passed by looked colourful with people wearing many different attires, and speaking in many different Hispanic Arabico and Greco accents. They were browsing the stalls, selling their wares, commuting or simply strolling around. In this society where little weight was attached to individual life, many tried to stand out. Their clothes extravagant, their body movements large and theatrical. Their voices were loud, their tone proud and each and every one of them seemed to attempt to over shout the other. Even most of the poorest men and women were keeping up the farcade of uniqueness and even grandeur, though deep down in their hearts they all felt their insignificance being just another blip in this sea of people. Faustina was cut out of different wood. Unlike her surroundings she seemed to embrace her insignificance. Two of her sons she had not heard from in years after they took to the skies in search of wealth from abroad. Her Husband died long ago as a deckman aboard a rusty but beloved old cruiser, fighting the Hessians. Her sons might had found a similar fate and the pride usually attributed to their martyrdom, so common in Corsair society, in her got replaced by something else. First it was emptiness or near emptiness for somewhere in that void, a spark set alight a blaze. This spark was the news of the recent Bretonian invasion of Gran Canaria. Faustina herself had a few cousins and nieces living there who chose a simple worker life over the harsh martial society of planet Crete. She approached her favourite bench under a great old olive tree. Rosa, Esmeralda, Margarita and the oldest of the bunch who they simply called Abuela were already sitting there enjoying the shade. They all had a very similar history as Faustina. Camouflaged by the yelling of the younger ones at the market, they softly mumbled. Between the gossips and pleasantries exchanged, they also spoke of politics. Much of the time they used to devote on speaking of recipes now was spent on discussing the Brotherhood, the Custodi, and the Apostatas. These old ladies were humble, but not ignorant. RE: The Corsair Motherhood - Madvillain - 02-18-2019 "For an old lady in the Corsair culture, it is so easy to blend in. Unseen they sit on their benches, gossiping, unseen they shuffle the streets. One can barely hear their mumbling, such a contrast to the machismo of the Corsair young hombres on the front line." -Diego Alfonso Rodriguez, Corsair poet and chronicler. From their bench the ladies were gazing into the crowd and as often a scene was playing out in the near distance. Two merchants were having an argument, presumably over one undercutting the other with lower prices for the same wares. Their angered shouts were quickly accompanied by various wares being thrown back and forth, with the aim to injure one another. The old ladies sighed and shook their heads in disagreement. As innocent bystanders got hit by various flying kitchen wares and home appliances it did not take long for the Carabiñeri, as Crete's police force is known, to arrive. In any normal place the police would calm down the situation and urge the men to stop fighting, but what is normal anywhere else is not normal in the Corsair empire. The Carabiñeri quickly set out a perimiter, using ropes to create an improvised fighting ring between the market stalls. They then bid the men to undress, and poured a bucket of olive oil over each one's head. This dispute, as nearly all disputes in the Corsair Empire, was to be settled by noble duel under Santa Muerte's watchful eye. Mano a mano as the Corsairs called it. Though neither of the men was set back by any sort of fear or cowardice, one quickly punched the other into a pulp, his teeth dropping on Sitia's hot pavement like little pieces of porcelain. Meanwhile the victorious merchant was hailed in supportive shouts from his young skinny wife, who ran into the ring and embraced him. "Dios mio..." Faustina mumbled from the safety of her bench in the shade. "Look at that flaca, I can't stand her voice, this is what is wrong with our people." The other ladies hummed soft agreeing tones as the bleeding weaker merchant was dragged off by the Carabiñeri and things returned to normal. While the victorious brute of a merchant walked by, his bloody fists raised high causing an impromptu victory parade accompanied by a few musicians and a slew of people, Faustina lit her cigar and calmly passed it around, each of the ladies taking a drag and passing it on to the next. They were clearly not impressed by what they'd just witnessed. RE: The Corsair Motherhood - Madvillain - 02-18-2019 "el infierno no tiene furia como una mujer despreciada." -Old Corsair saying. The next day just after siesta, the ladies gathered again under their olive tree. Margarita was softly sobbing whilst being caressed by the other ladies. She got news that her son, a young Titan pilot got killed in, as quoted from CEN News, "a brave attack on superior enemy forces." While some of the ladies tried to lighten her mood by offering tapas and prayers to Santa Muerte, Faustina was boiling in fury. Her wrinkled hands clenched into fists as she climbed up on the bench, raising her voice for the fist time in many years. It wasn't a normal type of fury, this variant was contagious. "How many more do we have to lose before we act? All we do is sit here and complain while our sons and daughters get shipped off like cattle to the slaughterhouse!" This sudden outburst drew the attention of all the old ladies who turned their heads and looked up to her. Relentlessly she continued her monologue. "The Apostatas? They were once of noble intentions, now they kill our sons and daughters just the same! How can they talk right what is treason, one hermano killing the other hermano! And the Custodi?! All they do is kiss the culo of the Gallic monarchy that will stab our people in the back just the same! Meanwhile the Corsair Brotherhood goes about this as they went before we were born, shipping our young ones off to fight noble duels against enemies that care nothing about their tradition, honour and pride, just another death trap for our sons and daughters! So who is going to make the difference? Not us if we keep on sitting here, weeping in the shade and wrinkling like old roses!" For a moment it seemed all was silent, the usual noise of the market square drowned out under an intense emotional state that Corsairs simply know as La Passion. But Faustina's fury found its way into the open, alike a erupting volcano. She wasn't done yet, she was just getting started. "Rosa, Esmeralda, Margarita, Abuela, You all were pilotas just like me in your younger years so you know what I speak of. We must go to the Comisario's office, tell Pepe Ladron to move his elegantly rounded behind and to stop las tonterías!" Faustina's words were answered by a standing ovation, not only by the other old ladies but also by a crowd that gathered to witness this rare sight of a furious old screaming lady. And as was said so was done, Rosa brought her donkey wagon and together they rode into the Elder's district, en route to the office of Comisario Pepe Ladron. Their wagon was followed by a stream of people, mainly the elderly and some of them were already carrying banners. Her monologue turned into a full blown peaceful protest, that settled in front of the gate of the Comisario's office. RE: The Corsair Motherhood - Madvillain - 02-18-2019 "De la cocina a la cabina" -Motto of Las Abuelas Furiosas . For two weeks now the ladies had been protesting in front of the gate of Comisario's office. The Carabiñeri on guard duty did not quite know how to react on this, they were just a bunch of old ladies who could do no harm in their eyes. Consuela took it upon her to make a field kitchen, where she was cooking paella for the swelling number of protesters. Rosa was in charge of logistics, and with her donkey cart she frequently rode up and down to the market plaza to buy Kusari rice and other necessities. Even Margarita found the strength to make herself useful, nursing the many old ladies suffering from the heat and low blood sugar. Under the shade of a large protest banner, Abuela and Esmeralda sat eating churros while handing out pamphlets to whoever passed by. Right in the middle of this all stood Faustina upon a stage build out of emtpy crates and pallets. She was relentlessly preaching in a way more militant than she ever was, even in her younger years. Somewhere between her wrinkled skin and her old bones, she found a rekindled energy. Her walking stick was now her sceptre and she pointed it proudly towards señor Ladron every time he peeked down through his window. El Comisario was not amused. "When will these chickens go back to their cage capitan?" he uttered to a Carabiñero standing guard in his room while peeking down his window. For a moment he made eye contact with the most vocal of these chickens, Señora Faustina, and as she pointed her walking stick to him, he quickly closed the curtain. Ladron was expecting a visit from Elder Buonocore one of these days. The sight of this protest would not shine well on him in the Elder's eyes. He knew that he had to do something, he needed to make a compromise with these loco old ladies on a warpath. He needed to speak to them, no not to them but with them. The guard in his room could not help but smirk, seeing the mighty Ladron struggle with this problem. RE: The Corsair Motherhood - Pepe - 02-18-2019 "Pepe Ladron was just a small chief of police at Gran Canaria when Coalition propaganda machinery pointed on Elders for bombing the planet AS 820. He was the wrong man on the right place and actually he was the only one that got out with some profit from all the mess. He wears his nickname "El Comisario" since then, but only because La Cucaracha was already in use. He's also a man of short vision, but great dreams, mostly full of Gaian girls." -Diego Alfonso Rodriguez, Corsair poet and chronicler. Thanks to his deepest wisdom and charm, Pepe Ladron was called to Gaian space pretty often, to represent picky Imperial taste at Miss Gaia Elections, Nature Fairs, Wellness Championships etc... He always attracted most charming miss competitors, nature scientists (also girls), yoga and wellness instructors and all kind of tall long-legged hostesses. This time was even better. Three hotties were "casting charms" on him, just to win a chair in his separe, for some night show. Jumping like a cat, Ladron went to closest table and grabbed some chairs. So, all ladies were able to seat around him. No one could fill up those chairs with small rounded butts better than good big El. Show was about to start and lights turned off. Music started. One hand also started to touch his leg in the dark. It was wandering all around, when another soft and warm hand joined the first one. And another. And another. Soon many hands were all over him. But... one was a bit stronger than others and started to shake him strong, in a pretty macho way. Ladron woke up. Face of this ugly Carabinero was over his face. That one officer that was not very popular, so he always got to do dirty jobs. He said something, being close enough to acknowledge this man had Kusarian fish for a lunch. And it wasn't very fresh one. "Wake up, senor Ladron! You have to see this. There is el mob gathering under your window. Rapido, senor!" Never being able to jump as a cat (except in politics and other kinds of corruption), he got out from his bed slowly. He walked to the window, stumbled on a chair on his way and almost fell from the window mentioned above. However, his sleepy face was out from the window and he made one very unwanted eye contact. Some old senorita was staring at him. "Caramba..." he whispered. "This is some viejas brujas (trans: old hags) fiesta in front of my hacienda... What have I done to deserve THIS..." "Must I answer this question, senor?" Carabineros whispered back, with no pleasure at all. RE: The Corsair Motherhood - Pepe - 02-18-2019 "And now, ladies and gentlemen...a tap dance." A quote from a thousand years old movie "Relax..." Ladron said to his Carabinero. "This can't last longer than few hours." - Few weeks later... - "Caramba, this lasts too long. I... I... expect someone! This charade must end! Now!" Ladron stopped watching through his window for a moment and gave a deep gaze to his Carabinero. "You look like having an idea, senor... Spill it out!" "Well..." Obviously carabinero had an idea, but wasn't sure if it should stay safe in dark deeps of his brain. "We have those Gaian bombers rusting, Senor. And even some ruina Kusariana. No use of that ships, as our combat pilots prefer our robusta Praetorians." "Wait, I have a better idea!" Ladron jumped, but not like a cat at all. "Let's give some old ships to old hags! Even better... give them some cloaks! Maybe they will just disappear, hehehe." Ladron's mood was a way better now, after this breakthrough of "his" idea. He sent his Carabinero to get one of old hags to his reception room. "I'll get on my well known full combat armor and impress her. I will get rid of old ships, cloaks and old hags - in one move. I know... I'm brilliant." He added while Carabinero was leaving his room with unhappy look on his face. - Few minutes later, in Ladron's receiving room... - Ladron took a seat in his golden armchair, dressed in a combat armor he thought was scary for the enemy. There were many reasons why people couldn't watch at him wearing that armor, but fear was not one of them. However, he managed to make his guests a bit confused. They didn't expect THAT. And there was not just one of old ladies, but all five of them. Their mouths were open, but silent. A tap dance... starts about... now. "Bien, senoritas. You made your point. I am mucho terribly sorry for what happened to your husbands and sons. There was that shortage of escape pods and we were all shaken after casualties reports started to arrive to Elders War Chambers. However... There is a solution... You were all equally blessed by Santa Muerte, so I just decided (in my greatest mercy) to give you some finest foreign weapons. The best (and only) Gaian bombers, equipped with mighty cannons and even a cloak devices! Those ships are so good, that I locked them down in our underground hangar and forgot to give them to our common combat pilots. Be our heroes! Smile to Death's face! Test your bravery! Make Empire proud! Do what no one did before! Hit and run! Kick enemy to cojones! And... Ok, let's cut this crap... If you think you can do it better, my dear old ladies, why don't you go, grab a ship and do it yourselves?" He stands up with huge smile. "And in case you need any maintenance, you know how to find Gaians, si?" RE: The Corsair Motherhood - Madvillain - 02-19-2019 "Dame pan y dime tonto." -Old Corsair saying A few hours later the old ladies slowly shuffled into the underground hangar. It smelled like rust, and underneath large dusty tarps one could make out the shapes of bombers of mainly Gaian origin. Faustina glanced over them, and then her eyes turned back to Ladron. In the dim light of this underground hangar there was something attractive to him. Large body volume was a sign of succes in Corsair society, and Ladron's voluminous rounded edges had a undisputed effect on Faustina and the other ladies. "Señor Comisario" She spoke in her soft, shaky and aged voice, "We will take this offer, and stop our protest." The other ladies hummed agreeing tones and Ladron could not help noticing one or two of the ladies winking at him, and biting their wrinkly lips. There was a lot of cleaning to be done, and even more maintenance to these old machines. As el Comisario made a hasty retreat, the ladies got to work. And so a new squadron was born. It was the birth of Las Abuelas Furiosas. The oldest squadron in Sirius, under the umbrella of the oldest Corsair fellowship of the Empire.