Chapter II: Gravity

Completed chapters of the serial storyline are stored here after completion.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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Meris smirked at Preston's query, amused. "I imagine he daes, as that's just another form o' storytellin', jus' as Long John Silver an' Theseus are. The story's just taken a digital form." She looked at Samigina. "Or at least the essence of Edward Kenway."
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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"I know the man as if he'd been flesh-and-blood," answered Sam to Preston, solemnity briefly diminishing his grin. "The Welsh childhood, the restlessness, the ambition and greed, the ways in which e' undone 'imself an' found a higher calling on Great Inagua's shores... I know Spaniards, too - fools who thought they sailed fer God."

He frowned. "Aguierre should've been Mammon's, after what he put the Inca through just for that bloody gold - but a jungle's just another sea, innit? Jungle fever took 'im, and I's fished him out o' Limbo's waters. I asked the man if 'e feared death, same as I ask all my cap'ns; he looked me in the eye and said he'd rather face Hell than join me fleet."

Sam sniffed. "Put one in his skull, tossed 'im overboard. Armor must've weighed 'im down some; he took a long time to get past the Shadowlands' limits and start falling to the Pit. That Kinski actor did 'im a good turn, is as much as idiots like 'im deserve. Public rememberance."

He looked out one of the front windows as some of his crewmen starting rolling a few barrels down the gangplank. Behind the pair that came down and their rolling wooden containers walked a haggard-looking former member of the British Imperial Trading Company, his own frock terribly distressed and his white wig an utter mess under his bicorn hat.

"That's me first mate, Ben Hornigold. Poor sod thought dying a hypocrite would save 'im from damnation, but I never cared for letters o' marque... Reefs off of Acapulco did him in in 1719."

He parted with a mean little chuckle. "Thought I's was Ed Teach, when I fished 'im out of the drink! Lucky for him, Blackbeard always closes me fleet's ranks, 'e's never out in front. Queen Anne's Revenge and Blackbeard are me trump cards - me Voidcreature killers an' Reach-Beast hunters - the entire fleet's last bodyguard and its meat supplier! As for Horny; he's the Fleet's book-keeper."

He nodded his head towards Meris. "An' he's here for ye, lassie. Same as any other trustworthy Heir, ye need an update on our cargo and those spots on th' martal plane that need watchin'."
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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When the matter of business was brought up, Meris's attention became alert. She looked from Sam to the window at the two men rolling in the barrels and at Hornigold, taking note of him. Her dialect smoothed out as she become more focused on this issue. She was obviously taking her new role as Heiress seriously, and she responded, "I'm all ears. Whether it's Void Weaver or demon-related activity, I want to know. How does the cargo relate to my being Heiress?"
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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"See," explained Samigina, "servin' in the Fleet isn't a Get Out o' Jail Free card. It does mean ye aren't gonna freeze or burn ta death over and over in Leviathan's domain and that ye'll get t'experience somethin' like honest brotherhood 'tween sailors, but some penance is still part o' the deal."

He sat down next to Amazo and rather shamelessly speared a bit of cooling chicken onto the lizard's old fork, then popping it in his mouth. "S'good chicken, aye! Mmmph - every one o' my cap'n's carries the cargo he or she carried when they expired. They can't sell it, can't pawn it, can't sink it either. I know o' so much plunder they'd all like t' dive down and take, but their holds will nevar be free. If they do try and sell it; use some ship and crew's agreed-upon leave t'negotiate with martal buyers, then these objects' curses activate. These are all things touched by the deaths o' nefarious men an' women in need o' redemption, goods tainted by innocent blood."

He paused for effect, widening his eyes and lightly puckering his mouth as if he'd just said something spooky, and then insolently set his feet on Archie's table, letting himself rock on his chair's rear feet.

"Now, the sea don't take men as often as she did, the waters've been mostly safe for a few decades, now. There's corners o' the globe where ye still find Somali an' South African barges assaultin' cargo ships, but most piracy," he explained, raising finger-quotes at the word, "now happens when the booty's dry-docked. Sony's consoles're shipped outta Japan, they reach Hope, thugs steal a van or a truck, load it up 'an sell their goods on the black market. No deaths, no tragedy, no poignant pers'nal realization - jes' pure business."

Sam pulled out a dagger from one of his boots and began idly playing with it, turning it in his fingers as he watched the fireplace and now nearly-expended candles reflect their light in the blade. "Not that deaths dun' happen anymore, though. South Africa, India - there's still the occasional sinking cargo containers, speedboats gettin' shot down by overzealous port 'thorities... All that, an' all them times some idiot engineer sent an unsafe lady on the waves, doomin' equally moronic people to a watery grave. The Exxon Valdez an' the occasional tanker lost t'pirates lookin' to ransom some oil for money, luxury cars with blood-soaked bills o' lading that never made it to their precious Saudi princes..."

He grinned. "So if ye ken tryin' a speed on an Aston Martin, a coupla different Maserati models an' five or six dif'rent Lamborghini Testarossas - I've got ye fixed. My cargo's worth billions, lads - but that money's liable t'kill ye's. Seein' as Solly didn't want us to go an' harm innocents, there's no sellin' it off. No pawnin', no auctionin' any of it. The curses need containin', not spreadin' round fer ye poor sods t'be stuck with.

Plus, me cap'n's need a while t'get used to the notion o' us not needin' gold. Our stores never run out, so sellin' our goods 'is worthless, 'cept mayhap if ye's been wantin' a more pers'nal stash - which I forbid. I decide when a crewmate's ended his tour o' duty, not clinkin' gold an' transactions with Fiends with less honor than there's water in a thimble!"

Archie had seemed moderately displeased by Sam's cavalier attitude, but didn't voice anything. "What occurs to those who choose to buy their way out of service?
- They nevar pick the right channels," sighed the captain, "so they get themselves damned in some worse carner o' Hell. Most o' me crew knows I's fair and that I've got an eye fer redemption, but there's always a few impatient ones who can't wait for their cap'n t'speak ta me an' commend them. The Fleet converges on Tortuga's Faeside shade ev'ry year for our Conclave and I get t'hear jest who's eligible fer release - but it's never enough fer some of 'em."
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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The archmage nodded. "Some people aren't able to work to the point where they make something better for the lives, or in this case, afterlives," she mused. "So, what about activity within your domain?" she asked, figuring Hornigold would show up soon to divulge this issue.
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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Ah, great, a hipster demon guardian. Preston had to wonder just how much of piracy's popular culture and tall tales revolved around Sam and his dimensional navy. All of it, no doubt.

Mary was nodding in agreement. "Piracy's changed, for sure, but it's still a huge thorn in our sides," she offered. "One of H&J's business staples since day one has been shipping and piracy insurance, although what you don't hear too much about is that the majority of the time we just pay the ransoms and notify the naval authorities; making sure the cargo arrives on time is a huge priority, as you can imagine."

"Cargo loses value at the wrong t-times, right?" Preston asked. "We dealt with all that too. And it's not just the cargo, either." He looked dour for a moment. "The ship and her crew are j-just as important as well. A couple million bucks is chump change c-compared to paying for a new ship and crew, after all, not to mention reimbursement."
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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Horny had been held back in the front yard by the need to coordinate the crew's set-up of a few trestle tables, food, and some available drinks for their own use. Already, more fiddling noises and barks of laughter shook the nighttime air, although things still did look to be in need of a few minutes' worth of preparation. Satisfied with the way Sam's cook was handling things, he made his way inside.

"Apologies for the delay, captain," briskly said the disheveled human, "Mister Modine was waiting for the pigs to be restored, so he could slaughter them anew.
-  As usual," replied the demon, who didn't seem troubled. "I trust ye be carryin' the log for the Heiress?
- Indeed, sir," he said, pausing to unsling a leather tube from his shoulders and walk across the table to hand it to Meris. "This is the entirety of the Last Flotilla's available resources, Lady Meris. Every undying animal, every ship, every weapon and every object suitable for repeat use on dry land, as well as those deserving containment. I've estimated our current net worth as 2.6 billion dollars, as per the Year of Our Lord 2025's exchange rates for the American dollar. As you can imagine, this net worth cannot be factored into the Court's available resources, or otherwise tapped into for the purposes of monetary gain. They are, for all intents and purposes, frozen assets."

Three picked up on that. "So Meris just became rich, but most of what she now owns is cursed?
- Unfortunately, yes," confirmed Hornigold. "Negative energies have a way of sticking to objects - or individuals formerly classified as objects -  and conferring noxious effects to them."

Three blinked. "There's slaves in the Flotilla?!
- Former slaves," clarified the first mate. "Poor souls who died off the coast of Africa, as well as the various islands in the Caribbean. As they join our ranks with able limbs and minds, considering them as objects would be wasteful. They still carry a potent curse, mind you - but owning them is entirely out of the question. No matter if we encounter slaver ships from ancient Rome or Colonial-Era Cuba, we free their cargo and welcome them as fellow crewmates."

That reassured him. "So since you recruit them and don't own them, their curse doesn't apply.
- Exactly, sir," replied Hornigold."

In the meantime, Sam had stood up and gone to one of the two casks, unceremoniously opening it by jabbing an elbow down its lid. Out came wisps of hay that had been used as packing and insulation material, and a bottle of some dark liquid that was hard to identify thanks to the opaque and shoddy quality of what had to be a centuries-old glassblowing job. The equally cheap cork came loose easily, the demon's pink tongue greedily slid over his mess of teeth, and he brought his lips to the mouth of the bottle with an almost lecherous look of abandonment. Long and desperately grateful gulps followed, as if the captain hadn't touched so much as water in days on end. A solid thirty seconds later, he parted from the bottle with a loud burp, produced a slurred chuckle and then fished another bottle out.

"Barbancourt Rum," he  said, "fresh from Haiti in its first brewin' cycle - an' with Baron Samedi's pers'nal taster's seal! S'the sweetest, hottest kiss as it goes down, laddies - betcha never drank nectar like this b'fore!" Then, as if he were tossing out prizes or single-size servings instead of full bottles, he tossed  one to each person at the table. "They lost a lot o' their aged stock in 2010, due to the earthquake, but Angel Time's got its perks, lemme tell ye... Fished crates o' the stuff right 'fore the warehouse came down!"

He then pointed at Meris, all the while slightly tipping this way and that as his addled center of gravity fought to keep his feet steady. "But - me domain, as ye've said, lass. I seen water spirits o' all kinds, nixies an' Finfolk an' Servitors an' other seafarin' Fiends who sail under Leviathan's command."

It had to be the fact that he was a demon, but Sam looked to be the kind of loud, slurred and obviously mechanically impaired drunkard who'd somehow still manage to make lucid observations. He now had the glazed and droopy look of someone who'd just gone through a massive bender, but somehow still felt mentally sharp. It didn't allow him to cut back on the hiccups, however.

"Levieh - Levah - Feck it, the pus-filled frog-like moron's got a fleet as big as mine, no matter how I, erm, enbiggen me own braces o' cannons. He's the main reason I's keep searchin' for more men an' women 'cross time and space; him an' what's past the Far Reaches in Faerie. Morgana's fartin' out islands, sorry for the image - hic - so's the Bright an' Dark get more trainin' spaces or forward camps, anythin' t'mess with Titania an' Oberon. Mab sometimes commissions a coupla of 'em for her own use, and she sticks 'em jeeeest outta the martal plane, but with one foot in nonetheless... Squids come out, I tell ya, an' I's captured a few meself, kilt a few an' made 'em taste rum an' open air long enough to join the cause postmortem. I's learned they's plannin' on goin' all Superman Returns on the poor Earth's crust, crushin' ye poor sods with their own newfangled continents - if the Darkhallow don't just show up in the flesh an' stone, when the planes fuse as one."

He brought his hands together. "Sail out there long enough, and ye can see Faerie's outer wall jest..."

Sam made a graphic slurping noise as he brought his hands together. "Hehehehehehe - hic - slippin' ever closer. I'm soused so I make it sound funny, but it's actually scary, aye. Ye can 'ear the universe shrinkin'."
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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Opening the offered bottle of rum, Meris lightly took a sip from the bottle, not being so nonchalant as to the amount of alcohol she imbibed. She would likely put it with the Seal Cove bottle of wine to drink at a later time. She sighed thoughtfully and took another sip. "I'm not surprised at those turn of events. Mab's ties with Amaxi go back a long way, due to the Wisps and now the Void Weavers."

She eyed the group and said, "At some point, you'll need to speak with the Bucks about the brine pool below their mansion. The same goes for the one guarded by the banshee Riona in Faerie. They're probably quiet for now, but as the Far Reaches or the Darkhallow approaches, it's likely you'll see more activity out of both."

"With Mab and Morgana using those islands as outposts, we'll see more cultist activity, won't we? Isn't that how the Squids tainted Nikolaas Buck?" Ciaran asked grimly, having tentatively taken a sip of the rum.

The matriarch nodded in response. "Yes, more or less. In any case, the brine pool made it incredibly easy for the Chamberlain to sneak into a budding Hope, offer Buck untold wealth, and turn his mind to mush with the Black Speech while also enabling the best surface dweller cultist to date, as well as being the thief driving my son's body around as the head Oracle in Darlarath," she finished darkly.
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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Dubious, Preston popped the cork and sniffed; just the scent made the world spin for a few moments, strong and heady as it was, and he recorked it quickly once he had his bearings. Mary, who had more experience with hard liquor, tasted it for herself, even though rum wasn't exactly her thing.

...yep, still not her thing. She too put the top back on, and decided it might make for a festive nightcap one of these nights.

"I seen a coupla them pools yer talkin' 'bout in m' time," Charles offered, taking a short sip of the strong brew. "Gotta city in 'em, aye? Lights 'n shit? Bit scary fer th' greenhorns, I jus' blew 'em up. Or tried to."
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Re: Chapter II: Gravity

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Meris' reveal of her son's fate made Tom squeeze's Aislinn's hand. As much as his domain was lust, he'd seen displays of love for so long as to grow able to understand its value. The amount of strength the archmage must've needed to keep going despite seeing her progeny go through something worse than death, the sheer dedication behind it all?

He was impressed, but he also empathized. He'd needed a long time to grow able to understand and respect a mortal's pain. If he couldn't love someone yet, he'd absolutely worked hard enough to relate to Meris.

"I'm sorry," he said, pausing an instant, "about your son. I've never been a father before, but I've helped friends raise their own children before. I hope you'll save him."

Francis smiled faintly. "I'm surprised that you care, Tom. It's not like kids are within your powers' grasp, right? I mean, unless you can make little Jimmy pine for the latest console with a snap of your fingers."

That made Magnus part with a small chuckle. "No, not exactly - but I've seen several children go through their sexual awakening. I've sensed that exact moment where boys turn into men and girls into women, that mixture of emotions and hormones that opens the average mind to an entire new host of hopes and dreams... The average child looks inward - and it's when that process starts that he starts to look outward, instead. To look at people and places, to listen to voices and sounds and music, and really feel what they carry. Personal tastes start to emerge, and it's around that time you find that little bit of exquisite music or visual design, the particular shade or intonation, that twists their heart and squeezes out their first tears of sensual abandonment...

We've all had our first time, after all - the first experience that's made us weep and laugh at the same time, as beautiful as it was. The sort of experiences people like Meris hopefully live for, as Cantors. It doesn't need to involve intercourse to be something that's deeply carnal and profoundly intimate, either."

The warthog shook his head. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters is that I do understand, no matter what some priests might think."

Sam, however, seized Charles' provided account. "Dalarath, aye. Th' City o' the Depths, or so they call it. Deeper'n Crete's ruins or Finfolkaheem's bubble-towns. Way below crush-depth, where ye need ultralight an' rock-solid materials t'get there alive, plus a good heat source. Used t'go there meself, 'till Cuba. I still knows their one physical access, down from the Squids' lake. There's an underwater tunnel that bends back up inter their cavern. Anythin' that ain't Squid or extra-planar canna' survive, unless ye've got a Squid on yer own side, workin' its magic an' nullifyin' the pressure. Waters're jest too cold in once yer out - creates a trap that's kilt a lotta their slaves an' escapees."

He raised his hands again. "Saltwater, freshwater. Two dif'rent densities. Saltwater's denser, heavier. S'like when ye pour Balsamic o'er olive oil - there's a sep'ration that happens. The Squid corracks slip past th' saltwater limits, slaves think it's safe t'start strugglin' an' jump out, so they leave the Squids' air bubble an' expect t'be able t'breathe."

Sam's face turned grim. "Lungs fill up, they choke an' die, them slavers round up th'bodies an' chop 'em up for food."
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