First i'd like you to have this beer, don't worry i'm paying for it.... As he motioned for Almando to take the mug of beer It's good stuff yes? Almando opened his mouth but Mark cut him off before he could say anything Now listen up, i don't care what she tells you, or how often she insults you, you're going to have to take it on the chin and move along... personally i don't like her either, she acts like she owns the bloody place... He took a sip from his mug and continued talking But if you two are going to be at each others throat, you're going to loose a lot of potential money, so you better wise up and dont say anything to her, atleast not while we're out pirating with the both of you, the cap'n wouldn't be happy to loose a shippment of VIP's because you two kept throwing insults at each other... so try to keep it to private, and definetly don't shout over the whole bar about it... we wouldn't want to keelhaul the both of you Mark let loose an evil laugh and took another sip of his favourite brandy.
Almando kept nodding and drinking every time Mark paused to breathe.
"Senor, I have to say, you strike me as stupid at first, but your words are wise. I understand, Senor, as much as I hate her kind, this is not the time or place to fight over ancestral disputes. After all, I did abandon the Outcasts and I assume she abandoned the Corsairs. I will try my very best to keep my temper, she is not worth the trouble for me to lose wealth, that's for sure, haha!"
Almando finished whatever was left of the beer and positioned himself in a comfortable manner, almost ready to sleep.
Posts: 6,059
Threads: 303
Joined: Aug 2007
Staff roles: Story Dev Economy Dev
The door thumped open once again, as it had so many times in the past. Instead of a Prospect or Buccaneer, today it was one of the Captain's Lieutenants gracing the Bay's entrance. Morris tipped his hat and grinned wonkily as John Crown sauntered past. "So, where you been for the past week then, King?" He drawled.
"That's for me to know and you to speculate about" was the light hearted retort. Looking around he could see the Bay was a fair bit busier than usual. Looked like a few more Prospects had fleshed out the ranks while he'd been gone, which was a good thing. It was looking like the Buccaneer's were turning Hispanic as well, he noted sourly. That was Catalina Corsair and some new kid he didn't recognise. Still the distinctly orange tint on the skin of his hands marked him as an Outcast. Corsairs and Outcasts... That should get amusing.
Slouching over to the bar and slumping onto a bar stool he threw a chip onto the surface and received a pint of evil smelling cider as a reward. With a grin that would resemble the cider fumes coming on his drink, if that was so possible, he decided it was time to cause some trouble. "Prospects, front and centre!" He roared.
The various Prospects present dragged themselves to their feet and wandered over. "Right, leave your drinks and hit the hangers. You're on intel. See if you can dig up anything on unaffiliated transport shipments, gottit?"
One of the cockier Prospects managed a sneering "says who?" John smiled sweetly before answering. "Says Lieutenant John Crown, and if you cross me again, I'll cut off your ears and nose, feed them to you and stitch your lips together. Now get." As the Prospect scrambled to get to the door, he remembered the second part of his little plot. "Oi, before you go, Catalina and Cardi-Kid, you're working together." Senor Outcast shot an acidic glare back towards the rather smug looking Lieutenant before following the others out.
Shaking his head, Anderson walked up to the old door and entered a code to it. The door slide open. "Oi, Just me John." He said holding up his hands. In his right hand he carried a small chip, which had on it recent weapon cam footage.
John Moore waved him inside and shut the door behind Anderson. "The Cap'n or anyone important here, John?" John shrugged. Thomas nodded and continued to the Captains quarters. The door was locked, meaning the Captain was probably sleeping, or scheming.
"I'll wait for tomorrow then." He mumbled and wandered to the sleeping quarters.
After John Moore came and pulled him out from his somewhat nice slumber, Anderson found himself in the cockpit of the Maelstorm's Mercy. His mission, to bring it back to Trafalgar. Which was a complete success as the vessel settled down. After climbing out of the cockpit he turned around and grinned at the vessel. "She could do with some skulls hangin' from the hook." He chuckled turning around and heading over to his ship.
Posts: 6,059
Threads: 303
Joined: Aug 2007
Staff roles: Story Dev Economy Dev
The door burst open with the customary bang of boot being applied forcefully to ancient wood. John Crown sauntered in looking pleased with himself. Giving the traditional nod to Morris he proceeded to the bar, and still looking incredibly smug dropped onto a stool.
Fiddling around inside his flight jacket, looking for something, he eventually pulled out what looked like a battered and stained roll of parchment. Unrolling it, he pinned it flat by stealing the pints off the Buccaneers surrounding him and placing them on the corners. It was a map of the bar.
Charles walked over, polishing a empty mug with a dirty cloth. "Oi, John, what's that thing?" He queried. John was renowned for dragging in weird and wonderful objects from his foraging trips to the depths of space. This just looked like a piece of paper.
"This," John said a flourish, "is a top of the line piece of Hacker technology. I got it off one of them a few days ago." Charles eyed the map dubiously.
"I hope you didn't pay much for it. Looks like a piece of paper to me." John just grinned and tapped what looked like an ink blot on the top left corner. A menu appeared to rise from the paper, lines of ink running from the current image printed onto the parchments rough surface to pool into a puddle in the centre of the paper and paint words and icons. Now Charles looked genuinely surprised. Tapping a few of the freshly appeared icons, the map repainted itself with an image of Trafalgar's blueprints.
"This, Charles, is nanotech. The ink's just a digital drawing, but this map basically leaches off whatever systems are nearby and uses them to paint a map of where-ever you are. You could attack bloody Newgate and so long as you were near one of it's consoles, it'd paint you a good picture of what it's insides look like. This thing is worth every penny I paid."
As the small crowd of Buccaneers now peering at the map watched, John tapped a few more of the icons and changed the image back to that of the Bay. As a final touch, in spidery scrawled letters Buccaneer Turf appeared along the top of the parchment, followed by the grinning leer of the Jolly Roger. Grinning like the skull that had just appeared, John displaced the pints and rolled the paper up again, stuffing it back in his pocket. "Ain't you got anything useful to be doing?" He snapped light-heartedly at the still gawking pirates that surrounding him.
Jack came back into the bar after a few hours, grinning like an idiot. Charles looked at him and said,
"Did you make a big catch?"
Jack shook his head. "No, all I got was a cardi smuggler that just ignored me, this is why I'm grinning like this." Jack said while handing Charles a disc.
Charles put the disc in the old holoscreen, which after a few seconds and a kick, began playing the disc. It showed a pair of battleships in Leeds orbit, the Kent and the Derby, and a fighter that belonged to some random pirate. The pirate yelled a few unkind statements at the battleships, then charged in at them with all guns blazing. The two battleships, of course, tore his ship open with fire in half a second.
As the assorted Buccaneers in the bar laughed at this pirate's idiocy, Charles asked,
"You were in Leeds orbit?"
"Of course not, I hacked an observation satellite, little trick I picked up from the Hackers."
"Eh, well here's a rum fer providing entertainment."
Jack took the rum and sat down in a random table, drinking it.
' Wrote:This thread is so stupid that a bird sitting on a nearby tree just EXPLODED.
Jack walked back in the next day, laughing madly. He walked over to the bar, and said,
"Alright Charles, I'll take two full bottles of Gallic Wine."
Charles eye's went wide at this. "I take it you guys made a big catch?"
Jack payed and took the bottle.
Jack Laughed. "Did we? Try Engine Components, Deuterium, H Fuel, Pharms, a bunch of hostages," Jack grinned. He jumped up on a table and yelled, "And to top it all off, FIFTEEN BONA FIDE MILITARY VEHICLES! TO THE BUCCANEERS!!!!!" He pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, and knocked it back. Then he picked the other one up, and knocked it back too, then promptly passed out.
' Wrote:This thread is so stupid that a bird sitting on a nearby tree just EXPLODED.
Posts: 6,059
Threads: 303
Joined: Aug 2007
Staff roles: Story Dev Economy Dev
John, who'd been lurking in the smoke-filled murky corners of the room had watched the Prospect's activities with a wry smile. The Prospect in question was now passed out on the bar surface, dribbling something onto the polished wood.
Stretching his legs and hearing the joints pop, he felt ready to walk again. Striding over, he clamped a hand on each of the unconscious man's ankles, and heaved, throwing him to the floor, before nudging him onto his side with the toe of his boot so he didn't choke on this own vomit, or something else counterproductive to life like that. With that part of his Lieutenant's duties done, it was time for phase two. "Charles, give me one of the bottles of Gundey VIII," he growled with a grim expression on his face. Charles was a picture of horror.
"You can't do that to the poor bastard!" He squawked uneasily. John just gave a nasty grin and took the proffered bottle. All over the bar silence descended as people cottoned on to what was about to happen. A few looked slightly queasy. As a hand gripped the cork and prepared to twist and pull, hands covered noses, and Buccaneers all over the room braced themselves.
Gundey VIII was well known as the worst alcoholic synth-beverage in the known galaxy. Brewed in Liberty, it was barely legal, bordering poison. It's said one sip is enough to convince a heavy alcoholic to stay sober for the rest of his life. The threat of Gurdey spiking drinks has decimated parties throughout known space. The threat of a Gundey X prompted the brewery the Gurdy family owned to be firebombed by a mob of vigillante drunkards.
The cork was removed with an innocent sounding pop. Then the foulest vapour ever to crawl out of a bottle began to seep into the room. John propped the Prospect's head up and held the bottle under his nose. His face screwed up and broke into a sweat, but he remained stubbornly out cold. Seeing as the humane method didn't work, the bottle was forced between his lips and tilted back far enough to give him a single sip.
Immediately Prospect Jack's eyes popped open, his face turning green while his nose and eyes streamed and he vomited over the floor. John sat back on a stool, watching with that same wry smile of amusement. Reaching over the bar surface (past a incapacitated Charles who was gagging on the vapours as he battled to force the cork back into place) he grabbed the mop and bucket, and dropped it next to the Prospect who was still on all fours heaving.
"When you're quite done, fill the bucket up, mop the floor and clean yourself up."