dragonsanddreams | Pirate Setting

Current Music: "The Banner of Captain Flint" By Bear McCreary

Entry tags:

rp,
sans-magic

Pirate Setting

Pirate AU
We're going to Nassau, lads!

18th Century Nassau is a pirate haven, where pirates vastly outnumber the local residents. It has all the amenities their crews could ask for. Brothels, taverns, shipwrights and merchants... All among canvased stalls on the beaches, thatched huts and wooden buildings. The island stretches out with a great lake in the centre and plantations in the land outside of the town. The few 'legitimate' businessmen keep away from the scoundrels of Nassau, with some preferring to occupy the smaller surrounding islands. Although there's no governor on Nassau, people typically follow codes similar to their own ship's code. After all, there's no point being a pirate if you can't get your score sold.

None of this pleases the 'civilised world', and the pirates do come across stiff opposite in the form of the British Royal Navy (with Port Royal in Kingston Harbour) and the Spanish Navy (controlling Cuba and Puerto Rico). Without these protectors, however, merchant ships are left to their own devices to try and fend off capture or destruction.

This is quite a useful little map.

Scenario Ideas:

☠ Treasure Map - Someone's found a treasure map. Now all they need is to get the treasure, or a handsome sum for the map.
☠ Vendetta - A rivalry between pirates, or between a pirate and a pirate hunter.
☠ Crow's Nest - Climb to the top of the ranks in whatever way necessary.
☠ Walk the Line - and not the plank, hopefully. Your character is just trying to survive and has to play a balancing act between pirates, lawmen, and merchants.
☠ Personal Quest - Your character is looking for a missing person, or item and found themselves in this neck of the ocean.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Word spreads fast among honest laborer and pirate alike.

For those looking to make some coin, whether it be for lining pockets or putting food on the table, word on the sea breeze is that ol' Sam Guevenne is looking to fund an expedition. Interested parties need only venture down to the harbor where several low slung buildings are all clustered together among the busy harbor traffic. This close to the water front the businesses cater more often than not to a much more vagrant clientele. Gambling halls, opium dens, brothels--all pockmark the more morally upstanding businesses to cater for those looking for even a short respite from their ships.

Sam's place is easily told apart from the others for the roses planted to one side of the door leading inside. Underneath a haze of smoke inside come sea shanties and requests being played off a piano that's far newer than most anything else in the establishment. A couple of young faces bring drinks to rowdy tables. Talk spreads between hands of cards, over dice, between bites of fish stew. Ol' Sam's been sniffing around for the roughest, the best sea legs he can find. Even if it's not true there's so much here to enjoy. Fine looking company, locally distilled drink, fresh meals....whatever vice a soul can crave, really.

The proprietor himself isn't so easily seen out front. He prefers to keep his personal games to the back rooms. But he's got a few personal agents keeping an eye out among the guests. They'll let him know if anyone worth their salt decides to show their face.

Edited 2019-09-28 22:05 (UTC)

Word spreads fast and Reynard's ears are always pricked, waiting for the barest whisper of opportunity.

It's a fortunate thing that this business so happens to bring him to a pub. Though he walks in with a man at his side, they quickly part ways. His quartermaster has to sniff out a couple of able bodied recruits. His own little ship may be speedy, but it's not the largest and the sea is full of dangers. Especially for a lifestyle such as this.

He approaches the bar and leans on the counter, offering the server behind it his most winsome smile. Once he has a drink in hand, he leans closer and does his best in asking discretely, "Have you heard of any good business opportunities lately?"

The redhead behind the counter shoots Reynard a glance. On the surface, the fact that she's being mistaken for The Help (made up mostly of attractive men and women hired from the local brothel) means that her disguise and act are doing their parts. Something she should be proud of at any other time. On the other hand, being caught with her hand closed tight into a fist under the counter around the documents she was literally in the middle of stealing would be enough to make a lesser woman freeze on the spot. Natasha is no lesser woman though. She flashes the dark haired man a knowing smile that is all for show before holding her free hand up with one finger raised in a clear message to hold on before she ducks down to stuff the documents into a hidden pocket of her skirts. When she comes back after scarcely a moment's passing she's holding several more glasses in both hands.

"Well, that rightly depends on what sort of opportunities you're chasing, doesn't it?" She sets the glasses out on the counter before taking the excuse of conversation to maneuver her way around to Reynard's side of the bar and lingering next to him a moment.

The way his eyes linger over her as she slips over next to him is a small indication of how much he'd like to take her by the waist and pull her close. This is the wrong establishment for that though. At least while they're talking business. Such a shame, really. Something to keep in mind for later, perhaps.

When his eyes return to her face he feigns surprise with just a hint of confusion so that his expression is more of a caricature. "A profitable one, of course. Is there any other kind worth chasing?"

Yes, good. Let the lech look all he wants at the peeks of skin through her worn linens. If he's trying to imagine her without the garments he's not worrying about what beside her own unmentionables is carried in her skirt. It won't stop her from quirking an eyebrow quizzically when his gaze does deign to return to her face.

She inclines her head toward the back rooms to try and guide Reynard's attention to the door.

"The high stakes games are in back, but they're invite only, I'm afraid. You'd have to get the attention of one of his agents, I wager. I just serve the drinks." In theory, at least. For as long as it takes her to make it to the door and out of there without being noticed.

He reaches over the bar, pulling out a cup and sliding it over to her. "Why don't you join me for one of those drinks, and you can tell me how such a pretty thing like you could be stuck out front?"

If he has to wait to spy someone more helpful he might as well have some pleasant company. That way at least the night might be profitable in two ways if not one alone.

Damn him to the depths of the sea and back. He's found an Easier mark in her and thinks himself smooth enough to get what he wants. She'll be late for her rendezvous if she stays. But if she makes a break for it he might chase her. Worse, he might start asking questions.

She could take him outside. Silence him for good. But that would be messy. That would arouse suspicion too. Her captain will have to wait a bit. Pretending to get drunk with a sailor isn't the worst she's had to do to remain under cover. Natasha's fingertip traces the rim of the glass. Her smile hasn't moved from her face.

"Just one." There's a hint of teasing in her voice while she admonishes him. Look at how dainty she is, she couldn't possibly hold her liquor. Any more than one would do her right in.

"I'm new, you know. Still getting used to how things work around these parts." Her very first (and last) day, even.

It's hard not to know she's new when he's flirted with every skirt in this place. Or so it feels like at this stage. That, however, is not something to advertise to such a pretty woman. So instead his brow rises in curiosity and he sidles a little closer.

"And how did something as lovely as you end up here?" He pours her drink and warns, "The people here have a habit of stealing jewels away and hiding them from the world, and they're only half as beautiful as you."

"How does anyone end up in this line of work? It's not a story you haven't heard dozens of times, I'd wager. My father's passing, no where else to go. Here at least there's a semblance of dignity. Of a purpose. I got off the ship what brought me as fast as my legs could carry me and never once looked back."

It's a delicate balance, this. Keeping just enough distance between them to sell the idea that she's got the delicate constitution a lady is expected to have with allowing the man close enough to satisfy what her job is here. Friendly, if not a little bit stiff. She'll come round, given time and a bit of drink in her system.

"You flatter me, sir. Serving drinks is easier than some of the other posts I could have earned. I'm grateful for the Madam for giving me a chance." And for the proprietor to care more for the looks of his staff than where they came from. It's made her job much easier.

Alcohol will not be a problem. Reynard is happily sipping away and keeping an eye on her own cup to ensure they're both full as can be. His own fine line to walk is more about staying a respectful enough distance not to immediately send her running to the hills, and showing his interest as she warms up to him. He can be patient. He's got all night...

"I suspect that whenever you choose to, you could take over this whole island with your smile."

He takes a quick glance at her hands to scan for any sign of a wedding band, and then sidles just a little closer.

"If you'd rather not talk about your past, perhaps you'll share your future dreams with me. Would you like a life of riches? Or are you hoping to fall in love?"

Natasha's apt to scold him lightly when she catches him trying to refill her glass. Really now. She's supposed to be working after all.

"I need this job." She stresses quietly. "Got no one else to rely on but me. I can't go ruining it so soon." Not even, as it were, for someone as roguishly handsome as Reynard is proving himself to be. Every minute of pretending to be charmed grates against her nerves knowing that her true employer is waiting for her return--and the intelligence she's collected here.

Talk of the future, though. Well. Maybe this will offer her a way out. She ducks her face and pretends to hide a blush behind her hand.

"I don't need riches, sir. All I want's a family. A husband I can see after every evening and a steady home." Commitment, children. All the baggage that goes with it. Maybe a hopeful peer out of the corner of her eye will help.

Oh Natasha. Surely you see a liar and a scoundrel when he's right in front of you. If his insistence that she join him didn't show his boldness, surely him being so unfazed will. Talk of the future is not for promises. It's just searching for which dreams he needs to sell to get her attention. And, as far as he knows, she's just told him exactly what she's looking for.

Putting on his most winsome smile, he tilts his head, letting his fingers run down her arm light as a feather. "Truly a pure desire. How tragic it would be for a woman so young and beautiful to be left to loneliness." With another sidle closer, he picks up his cup and coyly mentions before sipping that, "I, too, have a deep, yearning desire to find someone to share my life with."

Natasha hates this man down to the marrow of his bones.

Not for his silver tongue nor frivolous lies that any woman with a spot of light between her eyes should be able to see through (or so she thinks), but for how unabashed he is about wasting her time. How much he seems to think he's owed her company, her touch. She thinks of just how marvelous that silver tongue of his would be at begging for his life if she showed him just how dangerous a target he's picked...but duty demands that she not blow her cover.

At least not so thoroughly.

So Natasha forces her lips into a smile as sweet as the finest spun sugars and lets her gaze linger ever so slightly.

"You do, sir?" Hopeful. Her gaze darts to the back exit of the establishment though she is not so bold as to suggest anything aloud. It wouldn't be her place.

He takes careful note of the lingering gaze and the flitting of her eyes and the sweet, sweet smile, which he returns. "I do, madam."

Shifting to offer her an arm in a somewhat awkward and exaggerated attempt at chivalry, he suggests, "Perhaps I could show you where a secret. Just between you and I. A house I spotted not too far from here which would be perfect but for the lack of a woman with eyes as beautiful as yours."

"People will talk--" Even as she murmurs it she can look around and see that no one is paying them any mind at all. Her fingers touch his arm so gently, hesitantly, before she seems to make up her mind and slips it into his for Reynard to lead her off into the evening.

"I shouldn't be seen leaving..."

"People will think nothing of it, my dear," he assures her. Then, after a second, he reconsiders. With her so amenable now he doesn't want to push her away with impropriety.

So, with a curl of his moustache, he changes tactics. "But if you're concerned, perhaps there is a back way? A place I can meet you in just a moment."

Finally.

She doesn't even have to pretend at the relief that colors the sigh escaping her lips when Reynard finally takes his cues. He's been a setback but soon this charade will be over. She glances back to the main entry and nods quickly.

"If you go 'round...I can slip out the back and meet you? It won't take but a minute..." So eager, so hopeful. It's so much easier to affect that tone because for once this is exactly what Natasha also wants. Even if she could slip away unseen by now she doesn't want to.

She's going to enjoy what comes next. Natasha has earned this much, surely.

"No one goes back there but the help..."

Though the quartermaster of the War Rig has never been in this particular establishment, there's no uncertainty in his step as he strolls into the tavern as though he belongs there. His coat may have been a navy officer's once, though it fits his brawny body well, and it's since been decorated with bits and bobs of a sailor's life that would never pass regulation - bone fishhooks and beads, an albatross feather, a thin silver chain. He has a weathered look about him, tanned from a great deal of time in the sun, which makes the scar that cuts across his right eye all the more apparent, the worst of the damage concealed under a leather patch.

His remaining eye is no less sharp for it, sweeping the tavern as if looking for someone, though his real purpose is in checking for weapons and nervous hands that might reach for them. This is not the first time he's gone ahead of his captain to watch for signs of ambush, and once satisfied that he sees no sign of a trap laid for easy marks (or tougher ones), he claims a table and orders some rum, and waits patiently with an easy smile on his lips.

Somehow the inside of the tavern is less... off-putting than Virgil expected. He came out to this part of the world to minister to the unfortunate and ill-taught, but the bawdy ruckus and general licentiousness of these port towns still fills him with trepidation. He's getting better. He's sitting near the wall and nursing a very slow cup of ale and he's hardly on edge at all.

His companion is having a fine time, at least. A wonderful time, in fact. The young woman with the noisy laugh has learned a new dice game, nobody's telling her to be quiet and they're downright encouraging whatever takes her fancy. Virgil's pretty sure they aren't cheating her too badly. He's carrying most of their money anyway. He's not paying full attention to the game, though.: he's letting his 'sister' play and jest and draw the local scoundrels into conversation, while he... listens.

They're neither of them experienced sailors, nor would he call them 'rough'. But they do need money, both to eat and to help Bryn. He doesn't think Nassau has much in the way of honest work, not so much that either of them can afford to pass up even a long shot at joining an expedition. That doesn''t sound so bad, after all. To him it sounds more like exploration than piracy. Everyone's looking for better maps in this day and age. New spices, plants, exotic wares to trade back to the continent's great and good. Even if it turns out to be a little morally ambiguous... it'll be worth it, right?

"Hah! Looks like all the luck's on my side of the table!" Beside him, Bryn lifts her voice to the rest of the table. "Who wants another drink, then?"

Virgil shakes his head when she looks his way. He tells himself: it's going to be worth it.

Patience was never his strong suit. The more time spent waiting to meet people was time wasted. There was simply too much to do. If his commanders would only give him more ships he could go out and clear the seas of those damned pirates. And maybe the British navy too, if they made the wrong move.

But no, he was stuck waiting. He paced restlessly, and occasionally stopped at the window to try and calm himself into stillness. They had agreed to meet here, and he was early, but it irked him to be on dry land. The constant motion of the sea at least gave the impression of motion. Of progress.

He tapped his foot and walked to the other window.

When it comes, the knock on the door is smart and steady. The man who steps inside is neat in his powdered wig and long coat; the former worn shorter than is fashionable, the latter a deep navy blue embroidered in gold. His clothing is hardly immaculate, after the walk up the dusty road to this small trading post, but it's enough to mark his rank and allegiance to the Royal Navy. His hat is tucked under one arm, and despite the sweat on his face his expression gives away nothing when he bows to the Spanish captain. They're all gentlemen here. Even if his eyes glance around the room when he straightens, and even if one of his compatriots is waiting outside.

"Captain." So he presumes. They exchanged letters, to arrange this meeting, but very little in the way of details. "I am Captain Stratos Caelus, presently serving as a commodore in Her Majesty's Navy."

The whole walk from their station took this meeting the captain seemed so keen on further and further from being something James Kirk has wanted to tag along for. He's scarcely been here a fortnight but already the lieutenant has been hauled off to every tiresome task Captain Caelus has had on the docket. There's a creeping suspicion that he's going to begin being sent in the Captain's stead before long. At least for the tasks the Captain has no patience for handling.

Made to wear his uniform crisp and proper with the buttons polished and fully done up. His own wig a heavy heat trap plastered to his head. They're walking away from the sea, the one true beauty being in a place such as this. Making for an out of the way nook well too far inland for the steady winds of the ocean.

Splendid. Truly.

Stay here and keep a look out. Simple orders and then the Captain's disappeared inside. Right. Stay here. Out in the sun. And keep an eye out for what? The local wildlife? Orders are orders. He's glancing around the side of the building before long though. Looking for a spot of shade to inch his way over to if he can find it.

The one benefit of being unnecessarily early to this meeting is that it means he's not put out by the walk, and any sign of sweat has cooled significantly. It has, however, started to loosen his dark hair which has been slicked back neatly out of his face.

Alejo's uniform is similarly bright despite the dust of this island. Though while he also sports shining gold in his uniform, his differing allegiance is marked by brilliant yellow with striking red highlights. When he other man arrives he tugs at his crimson cuff as if he might show it off even more. He rests his left hand on the hilt of his rapier, and offers a hand with his right. You can never be too careful with an Englishman.

"Capitán Alejo Viteri, of the Spanish Navy." He will gladly pull his hand to rest behind his back once he is able. "You survived the sun, I see."

Edited 2019-10-13 20:17 (UTC)

They certainly look like opposites, the Spanish captain as radiant as the English one is dark. Stratos resists any thoughts of metaphorical significance, however. The very point of this meeting is his hope that they can find as much commonality in their positions as they have difference in allegiances.

Even if the other man is jesting at his expense. He twitches the slightest of polite smiles, clasping the other man's hand briskly- and taking note of the rapier at his side.

"Indeed. And I am glad to see that you navigated here safely. The seas have been more perilous than ever of late- but of course, that is why we are both here."

It's probably for the best that Stratos doesn't take the bait. Alejo is dying to express his genuine, most sincere concern that the pale Englishman is ill suited for anything but the dismal rains of Britain. Instead, for now, he will have to settle for his smile being widened by the other's discontent at the remark.

At the mention of trouble, Alejo's amusement vanishes into seriousness. He nods, folding his hands behind his back. "Sí. While the Spanish navy has no difficulty with this plague upon the sea, these pirates pose a threat to merchants and civilised people who cross their paths. Worse, they grow bolder by the day." He waves a hand and then strikes the air with a pointed finger. "This the Spanish crown cannot allow!"

Well, if Stratos fears the man doesn't take his British counterpart seriously, at least he seems quite exercised on the matter of the pirate problem. His faintly suspicious eyeing of the Spanish captain fades as they find something they can both agree on.

"No more can Her Majesty's navy tolerate the pursuit and plunder of honest subjects seeking to ply their trade. I am glad that we are aligned in this respect." He gestures to the simple table occupying much of the room. Some of the furnishings in here look like they were rather fine when made, but the climate and sea air have not been kind to them. "Shall we be seated, then?"

With no need for further direction, Alejo pulls out a chair, considers whether it will break at the mere hint of a man's weight, and sits anyway. As much as he dislikes it, there is some need for him to cooperate and be obliging to this British agent. His commanders have put their trust in him on this matter and it would be unthinkable to disappoint them.

So he faces the other man fully, leaning back, his hands on his knees, eyeing up what he has to work with. Somehow he'll make this into a success. 'How' is the tricky part.

"What is your plan to deal with them?"

Stratos unseals the map tube at his belt and unfurls its contents across the table; a map the Spanish captain has doubtless pored over every day since his posting to these waters... albeit this version doesn't show the details to which Spain alone is privy. No doubt it's been kept equally clean of any British secrets.
The only potential sticking point is that it does show the current regions of the Caribbean controlled by the British and the Spanish fleets respectively- according to the understanding of the British.

"A simple gentleman's agreement, to begin with. To set aside any disputes and... conflict in our interests, for the time being, until such time as we can face one another honorably without the diversion of these lawless dogs roaming our waters."

The map is indeed a familiar sight, and he combs it for any British secrets he might obtain. Perhaps it is the lack of any that accounts for the slight wrinkle of disdain as he presses his lips together thoughtfully.

"Agreed." His gaze flicks back up to the other man. "I will keep my people in line so long as you keep yours under control as well."

Leaning forward to consider the map again, he rubs his chin. "It will be easier to unite our people against a common foe. They are a scourge against civilisation itself. They have no place in this world."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Pirate Setting

Treasure Map Scenario

no subject

Using this as a holdover because I am Bad and forgot to submit All my characters for entry

Hahaha whoops DW didn't tell me. They're accepted now!

\o/

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I just couldn't wait to debut him

Navy agents all aboard!

For [His/Her] Majesty's Honor

Stuck outside holding the Captain's things

Para el rey de España indeed

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject