A Pirate's Wasteland

[::.S.O.N.I.C.::]

Dawn broke over the jagged horizon, iceburgs creating the distance. The licking rays of the newly woken sun plunged the dense clouds into a vast hues of blues, pinks and purples, mixing with the darkness still gripped by night like opposing warriors beginning clashes on the battle field. The light reflected down onto the still dark tips of large, friged chunks of frozen water in places and lighting their pigments in the same variety of early color, like tiny faries dancing and twinkling on the black, icy waters. And ever so dense hovered the masking morning mist.

The crisp air was still, and not a sound could be heard for miles around other than the crackling and hollow bumping of ice on the dark wooden mask of the haisty outlaw ship, modivated by the current and the current along. That was the life of a sailer at sea, without a moter, you were totally at the mercy of mother nature and all her sly tricks and schemes. She didn't seem happy in the least these last several months, and there was no telling when her anger would hurtle them to their deaths as it had so many before them. But no one stopped to think about that. No one questioned their fates. Not now. They were outlaws, criminals, rebels, thieves - the sea was their mistress, their care-giver, their foe. These were pirates, folks. And like their fathers before them, their lives were committed, and ruled, by no one. No one but the sea.

The red bandana wrapped atop the head of a young fox held snuggly to his fore-head, it's eastern side lit with the checker-lined shadow of the climbing net that streched up above the crow's nest, of which he made his recline. He sat with one foot propped up and his head resting aside one of the three rails that held up the guard, one wrong move could send him barreling down until he hit the curve of the net and then roll the rest of the way to the hard, wooden deck. It wouldn't be the first time, and...well...it wasn't like Hakkan's head could get much duller.


That was quite the common thought that early morn, the deck was especially slippery which meant the swabby hadn't done his job quite as effectiently as he ought. But as boring as you'd think it'd get out on the seas like this, there was something different every day - pleasent or not, and this was just one of those things. But reguardless, one of them could find a flaw in any newly vishioned event - if not one then the other - their differing personalities were to blame. It's a wonder the five of them had managed to survive THIS long without one of them killing the others and close encounters didn't count. Heck, there was one of those every day. Sam was still walking with a heavy limp from where Scythe had swung Hakkan's mop at him, missed, and wacked the poor parrot's legs right out from under him. But the real danger was the captain. Stupid as they were, they all managed to assosiate Kraden's temper inconsistancy with being tied to a railroad track. You never know when that train would come along, and when it came, there wasn't much that could stop it. THAT was the one consistancy, and based on that consistancy, everybody figured it was in their best interest to tuck their tails when Kraden's raised or else end up like all the others who had been oh so kind enough to give their lives for educational purposes for the current crew. It wasn't like Kraden briefed them on his little issues at the sign up sheet. Nope, that was just one of the many catches that they had to find out on their own. It was just oh so lovely - fuzzied their souls and such.

"Cap'n," The fox was woken by the lumbering, off-tempo gate that the limping parrot made, awkward sounding footsteps thumping against the wood as he pushed into the door of the Captain's cabin, figuring/hoping Kraden was up and Sam's wasn't the poor voice to bring him back to this world. "Wer' runnin' low on grosheries so w--."

"So Sam's come to raid your stash and take over the ship! Mutany! We have no current! We have no wind! And we only have enough food on deck to keep one man alive until we reach port!" Hakkan loved a fuss.

"...so while we have daylight, I wus wondering if I should set a coarse fo--"

"Quick Captain! Take him out while you still can!"

[Pyran]

((Yea, that really is a nice post, man. You've come a long way!))

Inside the cabin, the loud squawking racket of the crew reverberated through the room and pounded on the poor ink-black hedgehog's ears. His narrowed his ocean-blue eyes on the map before him, trying to ignore the insistent sounds. Sharply, his fingers thrummed across the old splintered oak of his desk, keeping to a staccato rhythm that got faster and faster--just one of the many small things that indicated he was getting more and more irritated. Again his blue orbs traced the faded lines on the map, trying to bring his mind back into focus, to remember what he'd been doing, what he'd been thinking just a moment before. Something important, he was sure... D*mn this crew, never a moment's peace....

Then he heard Scythe's smooth matter-of-fact annoying voice slip into the conversation outside. Kraden covered his ears with his hands, trying to ignore it, but all this did was make Scythe's rambling incoherent--no less loud. Shouting something at the two other idiots. There was a thunk. Had someone thrown something?

Finally Kraden stood up, and the noise outside the cabin was suddenly joined in chorus by another loud thunk--Kraden's foot going into his desk in nothing short of frustration. That would be their only warning.

Click-click, stamp-stamp, WHAM! The door banged open, very likely to hit Sam or anyone else who was still standing in the way. "Can't y'all ever shut up and let there be a bit o' decent peace 'round here?!" Kraden hollered. And yes, the sunlight flashed off a drawn sword.

Today...was a bad day, if you haven't figured it out yet. If you have, then good for you. Shut up. Shut up and run if you know what's good for you. Run up the mast, run below deck. Throw the others down on your way, just don't be the one to get caught by Kraden first.