Assassin of the Black Flag(open)

Regular Posts : 54 Join date : 2015-01-11 Location : UK

As the evening fell peach and rose, bathing the cove a gold worthy of romanticising the place in the hearts of any artist, Agnar had made his way to the tavern and was already on a winning streak on Nine Men’s Morris. A sum of coins and a few won tankards were gathered eclectically by his left hand as he moved a piece into another key position. The man opposing him, one who didn’t know when to quit, was all about ready to rip out his dark French hair, as he saw another row sacrificed to the man he had taken for a dull brute at the bar.

After all, Agnar didn’t exactly fit the description of an intellectual, smelling vaguely of salt and blood and with his attire of boots, cotton trousers, a woven shirt with a rough red sash tied about his hips with the bone handle, of what was a rather large survival knife, being the only indication of weaponry on his person. A natural aversion to guns meant he carried none, not even a simple flintlock; yet he had no qualms about his crew wielding them, and wield them they did.

But he was here to relax and make some money, not find himself having to dig a grave. He wasn’t any sort of priest after all, and the Christian practice would have been lost on him.

“How did you-!”

Agnar smiled over the lip of his tankard, having drained it, and shook it at his opponent, indicating the choice between forking over more coin or getting another round in. The Frenchman opted for the latter with some disgruntled native curses and Agnar offered the encouraging; “There’s a dear.”

While the game was postponed his mind went back to his more formal reasons of being here. Now that he was comfortable and enjoying the possibility of having to pay nought for his drinks this eve, he didn’t particularly care if someone didn’t trot down on their high horse and chastise him about his crew.

The tankard was slid across the table to him and he indulged in another swig as the board was reset.

“I’m liking this game.” He brought his hand down upon the table to this boards right in his characteristic extroverted fashion and issued the challenge;

“another?”

There was a small crowd of whores, ladies of the sea and scoundrels alike by the time a trio approached to his side with one speaking to him as he made a move and further frustrated a Frenchman. He smirked rather than puff his cheeks in resignation, like a man realizing he'd have to do something unpleasant after all but was as ready as a bull to tackle it head on. So, as the Frenchman agonised over his piece, Agnar turned slightly in his chair with his snout in his flagon whilst eyeing the three.

When he wiped his mouth, the little hairs that had gotten damp in his beard drying quickly enough, he revealed a crooked smile of a man asking for mischief.

"Aye well, I'm in no discomfort myself." Then he turned back to the board, speaking as he made a move but looking at his opponent. "She can take as long as she wants."

A glance again at the three, but only briefly before he took a row, "she have a whole fleet of messengers?"

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

He rumbled and wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her hair. He enjoyed having her there and he pressed his face into her shoulder before he pulled back, his face bright red. He chuckled nervously.

Subject: Re: Assassin of the Black Flag(open) Fri Jan 16, 2015 9:01 pm

Elizabeth was, by then, a bright shade of pink. Everything around her had disappeared, save for Samuel, the only person she would give her life for. She returned his nervous chuckle before she calmed herself and smiled lovingly. "Sam" she said softly as she nervously clutched her pendant, "My love." She couldn't decide on what to do, so she simply drew him into an embrace.

"When the hell are we going to get back to Nassau?!"
"As soon as we've amassed a large enough fleet, Vane" Kenway said sternly, "The others will all be arriving in a month."
"What about that Ingela Gathenhielm woman, is she still coming?"
"Dunno, she sent a letter but we haven't been able to translate it." Kidd grabbed the letter and held it in the air, "Does anyone here speak Swedish? Or any other Nordic language for that matter?!"

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

His arms went up the instant she wrapped her arms around him. Slowly, his arms rested around her and one hand went to the top of her head. He closed his eyes and sighed. This was all he wanted, all he needed. His hand slid down her hair and rested on her shoulder.

Elsewhere, Frederic growled quietly to himself. He wanted his brother dead. "Captain," Frederic looked up, his eyes hard. "What?"
"The threat went unanswered. What do you want to do?"
"Go to Inagua. Maybe it's time we struck at the heart of my big brother's roots."

Regular Posts : 54 Join date : 2015-01-11 Location : UK

(( Is there anything in particular you want it to say? ))

With an idle of gesture of his hand, and his mouth to occupied with supping, Agnar patted twice upon the table to his left side; looking at the man with the letter held aloft. The unspoken word of ‘here’ was translated through the gestures and he noticed out of the corner of his eye his opponent rejoicing in a small victory after capturing a line.

Maybe he’d let him win.

But then again, Agnar didn’t like losing.

Subject: Re: Assassin of the Black Flag(open) Sat Jan 17, 2015 9:40 am

(I didn't know if I should supply a translation for the Swedish bit, and sorry if there are any errors but I don't speak Swedish so I had to use google translate. The bit of Dutch, however, is different. One of the perks of speaking Afrikaans, is that you understand both Dutch and Flemish.
"O mijn Here! Ik kan het niet geloven!" = "Oh my Lord! I cannot believe it!")

Kidd handed the letter to Agnar and stood quietly, eagerly awaiting a translation.

"Kaptenen Shay,

Det är bra att höra från dig igen. Jag kunde inte skriva till dig på engelska som min make, Lars Gathenhielm, var den som du talade. Han var den enda som kunde förstå ditt språk. Lars är död, men jag har tagit hans plats. Vi ska vara glada att hjälpa till i belägringen av Nassau och vi ska komma fram till Inagua inom en månad.

Vänliga hälsningar,
Ingela Gathenhielm"

There was a knock at Elizabeth's door, "Captain Shay, it's half seven."
"Christ! I almost forgot." Elizabeth looked at Samuel sadly before she dropped her head, "Sorry, but I need to go and speak with a captain about that skirmish involving some of his men earlier. You are welcome to follow me if you want to." She slowly opened the door and glared at Johnson angrily.
"Captain, remember you spoke of your mother and her native tongue?"
"Aye. What of it?"
"Well there's a man amongst that captain's crew, a Dutchman."
"A Dutchman" Elizabeth shouted excitedly, "Finally! Someone I can speak with using a language other than English! O mijn Here! Ik kan het niet geloven!" Elizabeth quickly turned to Samuel, a huge smile on her face, "I'll either see you later, or I'll meet you at the tavern." Elizabeth ran out of the house, laughing all the way to the tavern.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I had some business to tend to" Elizabeth said calmly as she joined Agnar at the tavern, "Maybe once we are finished with our conversation, you could introduce me to that Dutchman of yours." Elizabeth grabbed a bottle of rum before she took a seat near the Icelander. "Name's Elizabeth Shay" Elizabeth explained as she offered her hand to the strange new captain, "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" She noticed the letter and groaned, "I don't suppose you've had any luck with a translation?"

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly)

Upon hearing this, Sam swiftly followed Elizabeth and stopped in the tavern doors. Once he spotted her, he relaxed a bit and fixed his robes before he took a seat beside her. There was no way he'd let any harm come to her, if it came to a fight. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, however. But just in case, he made sure everything was in working order. Sam stayed silent, as he would always do in the presence of strangers. Hell, he even drew his hood low over his face.

Subject: Re: Assassin of the Black Flag(open) Sat Jan 17, 2015 1:44 pm

Elizabeth looked at Samuel and smiled, albeit briefly. She didn't know of their guest's allegiance, so she attempted to avoid showing any affection to Samuel, lest the stranger figure out that he was her weakness. It was already bad enough that she had forgotten to draw her hood as well as given the stranger her name. Luckily she had Samuel beside her, Thatch and Kenway standing at the tavern counter, Vane and a highly intoxicated Rackham behind her, and Kidd was seated behind the stranger. She examined the strange man before her. "I apologise for my asking, but are you, by any chance, from one of the Northern countries? Sweden or thereabout?" She was secretly hoping that he was from Sweden as she would need someone to translate for her once Ingela Gathenhielm arrived. Elizabeth, unfortunately, only knew two languages: English and Dutch. She didn't know how to speak Spanish, Portuguese, or French fluently, even though she did know a few words, she never used them. After all, when would one ever need to know what a flea is in Spanish? The only reason she knew how to speak Dutch, was because it was her mother's language.

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

Having learnt years earlier to never show emotion in the face of possible enemies, Sam managed a small nod to Liz, letting her know he was there for her. But his eyes sparkled with affection and hopefully no one but Liz would notice. His eyes also glittered with protectiveness. Then a familiar bark echoed in his head. Sam turned. Ace was crawling toward him on his belly. The Assassin grinned and patted the wolf's head when he drew closer.

Regular Posts : 54 Join date : 2015-01-11 Location : UK

(( Sorry guys, just got in from work :’D ))

Agnar wasn’t keen of Swedish, or the Swedes themselves for that matter, but that didn’t stop him from having the knowledge these people needed to translate the letter to the best of his ability. His trade often had him chasing the fattest schools of cod and other such fish to the shores of Svalbard and northern Norway and Sweden. As such, a knowledge of his ‘sister languages’ came in handy when dealing with the other Scandinavians. Norwegian was easier but Swedish wasn’t that much of a stretch, although every man always believes his own language to be the most beautiful.

He placed his tankard squarely in the edge of the curling parchment and flatten the rest with the calloused palm of his left hand; following the elegant script with relative ease. The name caused him to have a small twist in his stomach as he thought he saw Inga, but it cleared upon a second look to the correct ‘Ingela’. A small cough rumbled in his throat before his attention was caught by the woman who sat herself with a certain bearing and assertiveness to his left.

This must be that Elizabeth Shay, he thought, casually following her hand with his eyes as she took a rum bottle; a rum bottle that he noticed his French opponent looking at enviously but unmoving past a sigh of resignation.

His assumption was proven correct by her introduction, and he accepted her hand with a wariness but equality; giving one firm shake with a return of his own name; “Agnar Heimirsson,” he started whilst slipping the letter back from beneath his tankard, “her husband is dead, so she has assumed captaincy. She’ll join you within the month.” Handing back the letter in a paw, he took another drink and noticed that, not only had his opponent and source of free ale vacated his seat, but also that Elizabeth’s entourage seemed to lay thick about her and one in particular hung rather close by. Agnar said nothing about it, even when a wolf lolloped up and decided to make itself comfortable by that particular man’s legs. Only, “sounds like the start of a terrible joke…” under his breath and into his ale.

The cat that had made itself comfortable by Agnar’s boots as he had been playing decided that fleeing would be its best course of action at the sight of the carnivorous canine.

“I’m from Iceland,” he answered, accent and deep voice seeming particularly apparent, after finding his flagon empty and turning it upside on the table, “but it helps to know your way around other tongues.” He rested his hand on the upturned bottom of that battered iron mug and relaxed in that rickety chair, “has helped prevent a mutiny on occasion.” A quick change of topic as he remembered how odd it had struck him that she had not only specifically asked after Baron, their resident Dutchman, but had known of his existence in the first place.

“You’ll be wanting to talk to Baron,” he rolled his tongue in his cheek, tasting bitter alcohol and snickered good-naturedly, “why would that be? Doesn't owe you anything does he?”

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

"Try not to test our patience, Agnar," He said cooly. It was fine if they knew his voice. He'd let his targets hear his voice before and it was fine. Most people wouldn't recognize it the next day. A hand dragged across the wolf's head and was rewarded with a soft whimper. "Especially mine. Though I won't act without Miss Shay's word." Sam refrained from using the nickname he had given her a while back, uncomfortable with showing any such emotion towards her.

Regular Posts : 54 Join date : 2015-01-11 Location : UK

The Northman fixed the man who had spoken to him thus, with a measured gaze, although his playfully blue eyes seemed to darken beneath blonde brows before a crooked smirk only partially offset their seriousness in an odd fashion. The Icelander wasn't the type to suffer such unprovoked 'warnings' gladly. He rested a thick arm upon the back of the chair which didn’t seem as though it would hold the weight of muscle, although hold it, it did.

Yet, Agnar did seem amused by the man’s words; resting his head against scarred knuckles and concealing a click of his tongue. He also refrained from issuing forth the comment perched so eagerly on the tip of his tongue, that he had turned arctic bears more than twice that wolf’s size into coats so perhaps his canine companion would craft some nice lining for his jerkin.

“I said something to offend?” He responded, his deep tones not helping due to the fact that unless he was evidently having a laugh, he always sounded a little passively aggressive, “must be my bad English.”

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

He gave a growl, dipping his head so that his hood cast his face completely in shadow. Even Ace gave a growl but the hand on his head stopped him from acting. He stayed silent to prevent himself from snapping a hot remark.

Subject: Re: Assassin of the Black Flag(open) Sat Jan 17, 2015 7:24 pm

"It is good to make your acquaintance, Agnar Heimirsson. Don't worry about meneer Baron, he doesn't owe me anything. All that I want of meneer Baron, is a simple conversation. It has been a very long time since I last had someone to converse with in Dutch, thirteen years, to be precise. You don't meet many people around these parts that speak Dutch, yet here I am. I can't form a single sentence in Spanish, Portuguese, or French, only English and Dutch." She turned her attention to her bottle of rum, and thought of her meeting with Ingela in a month before she shook her head. She grabbed Agnar's empty tankard and raced off to the tavern counter, only to return a minute later with a fresh drink for Agnar, rum for Samuel, and a rumbullion for herself. "Pray tell, why was it that your men saw fit to start a skirmish at the docks earlier?"

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

"Yes, do tell. Inagua is normally quiet. Why is it that your men stirred up trouble?" Sam drank the rum slowly to keep himself quiet. He absolutely hated these moments that he had.

Regular Posts : 54 Join date : 2015-01-11 Location : UK

“Some of my men have firm holdings in personal honour.” He moved his eyes slowly from the parakeet at her elbow to her, nonetheless accepting the drink with a thanks but not going to sup straightaway. It stood almost forlornly on the table with a hand resting idly by its base. “They work hard and honest and get rewarded with insults. Shall we square it up to a ‘long day’?”

He snatched hold of the iron cup and licked at a tooth before taking a swig. His blood was starting to simmer in his veins, that recklessness stoked by a feeling of unfairness and as he kept the flagon in his grasp one could almost anticipate how he was going to somehow dent the iron inwards with the large hand in which he held it.

He didn’t. Yet that didn’t mean it wasn’t entirely impossible.

“I’m also sure,” he began through his bemused, lopsided smirk, leaning forward slightly; actions and gestures that would have been taken as easy-going if the business wasn’t so serious, “that fault lays with whoever put an idiot in the run of this islands trades.”

Eyes flicked between the pair of them, lingering a little longer on the man who thought it best to growl at him aforehand with his wolf in tow. Agnar thought it was a shame, having a wild creature like that thrilled in some way to a master. Yet, his eyes found their way back to Elizabeth soon enough.

“I’m as sure as the next man that a den of pirates is ‘quiet’, so we’ll be sailing with the tide. Doesn’t seem to be much welcome for trade” Another sup from his tankard and he moved a hand to tighten the small measure of twine keeping his hair back in a little tuft by his neck;

“Baron’ll be around here somewhere,” he placed the cup back down and seemed rueful with a click of the tongue after looking around as if scanning for the redheaded Dutchman, “but he isn’t much inclined to talk after ‘hostilities’.”

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

His eyes narrowed. He didn't like the way Agnar was looking at Elizabeth and gave a quiet growl as a warning. She was taken. Sam wouldn't tolerate anyone looking at her that way and he'd make it known. Ace, however, tried to comfort Sam with a soft lick to the hand. Sam's tensed body relaxed only a little bit.

Subject: Re: Assassin of the Black Flag(open) Sat Jan 17, 2015 8:47 pm

Elizabeth tightly gripped her tankard, her knuckles turning white just as they had done when she first met Samuel. She tried to restrain herself, to not beat Agnar's skull in with her tankard or slit his throat where he sat.
"I am the one who put that idiot, as you so politely called him, in charge of trade on this island" Elizabeth shouted as she stood and slammed her fists onto the table, "I've been doing business with him since I was only seven years of age! Back at Nassau! He may be a bastard, but he knows how to run a business!" Kidd was alerted to the impending fight by Elizabeth's outburst, so he looked to his comrades that were scattered around the tavern, and shook his head. "If you wish to leave, then leave! Regarding your Dutchman, Baron, you can bloody well take him with you! If you don't care for how we handle things on this island, I would appreciate it if you would fuck off!" Elizabeth grabbed her dagger, and wedged it into the table, "Consider yourself lucky that I was in a good mood before I came here, Agnar, you'd be dead if it were otherwise" she snarled. A deathly silence had fallen over the tavern as many were alarmed by the outburst of the Assassin, save for Elizabeth's friends. Rackham, however, had dropped his drink at Elizabeth's roaring, and had naturally taken to cursing loss beneath his breath.

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

He gently rested his hand on top of hers, his own body tense while a hand rested on his pistol. He wouldn't hesitate to use it if it came to that. His eyes glittered at her, warning her softly. Easy, Liz, his gaze soothed.

Regular Posts : 54 Join date : 2015-01-11 Location : UK

Agnar pulled back out of reflex, not wanting to be caught by the upheaval of limbs, fabric and any concealed weaponry he had the suspicion was hiding in the folds of her clothing. Call it good instinct but such suspicion was confirmed when she embedded her dagger into the table, only just avoiding the game board which bounced with the force and scattered the counters thereon. Agnar raised his brows as one would in incredulousness before his mouth and such settled back into looking bemused after her torrent of abuse and hanging threats. For one, he didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest and weathered the storm like a true fisherman, waiting until Thor stopping venting his rage and the still and silence to gloss over calming waters.

However these waters weren’t calming, they were moving on a tenuous thread to another storm.

“Your bluster doesn’t intimidate me,” he responded bluntly, grabbing a hold of his tankard and the ale that remained therein before he stood with measured movements. “Neither does your parrot and his dog. You asked for an explanation and I gave you one. Seems it wasn’t the one you wanted to hear but that’s not my problem is it?”

With a mighty gesture that could have almost been defiant, he downed the rest of the ale she had bought him, gestured to her with it as if in good will and pried her slim knife free of the wooden slat into which she had jammed it. After a small inspection he handed it back to her, handle first with the blade between his thumb and fingers.

“Maybe age has addled his brain then, regardless, you’ll be needing a new pet favourite in your stores considering how quick they’re going to dry up.” A shrug and his smile kept along with his general passive-aggressive intonations. “Sounds like you’re going to be coming under siege, see how quiet things are when men go hungry.”

An almost furtive look around and he dared to lean in just a little as though to keep quiet some conspiratorial secret. “They’ll start turning on each other, and it doesn't seem you're holding enough cards to risk that. Roaring and stamping doesn't free the seal from the orca.”

He smiled a broad, almost friendly smile as he drew back, standing at his full height with arms wide. "But what would I know?," a light shrug and casual swagger as he backed off but didn't turn his back upon them. Now he commanded attention, " a fisherman in a game of pirates and kingsmen."

A small, almost polite flourish before he casually discarded the tankard off somewhere to clatter against a table and roll onto the floor, that same smile, challenging in it's easiness, still upon his face.

A 'mere fisherman' indeed it seemed, with the scars about his wrists that spoke of shackles and imprisonment, along with the almost barbaric tattoos of old pagan beliefs apparent on the arms which his short sleeves exposed; marking him outside the kingdom of Christendom. It was suspicious to see such things upon one claiming to be an honest labourer, but in his act of defiance he didn't care for concealing them. In fact, he gave very little thought to such things that he had accepted as his part of himself.

Subject: Re: Assassin of the Black Flag(open) Sat Jan 17, 2015 10:05 pm

"Most of these men are not permanent residents of Inagua, they just stop here for a week before they head off for the next port. We have enough food to keep the men sated for a long time to come. We've done well up until now, so why should things change? As for my cards? I've some aces up my sleeve. At least three men on this island are capable of supplying us with the ocean's bounty, let's not forget that there are plenty of able hunters among the men of this island." Elizabeth grabbed her dagger and returned it to its hiding place before her hands came to rest upon her boarding axes. One more insulting word from his mouth, and she would have his head nailed to the bow of the Tiger Shark while the rest of his corpse would serve as a pleasant treat for Sentinel. "You do not know me, so I will spare you, for now" Elizabeth growled as she tightened her grip on her axes.

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

He had grabbed his pistol and cocked it under the gun. He was pissed and calmly set it on the table as a warning. "I don't appreciate you calling me a parrot. Or Ace a dog. He's a wolf." He rested a gentle hand on the pistol in preparation. "Insult us one more time, I will blow a whole in your fucking face. Right between the eyes. And I'm not bluffing."

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(( þar Ragnarök, þú hugrakkur fífl - Until Ragnorök, you brave fool ))

"Almost makes one wonder why her majesty hasn't taken back Nassau already. Nay, the world even," a bow, reckless and daringly defiant behaviour, and a smirk was all she was rewarded with when she issued her threats; that, and a small gesture of farewell.

"þar Ragnarök, þú hugrakkur fífl."

But then the gun was brought into play and he couldn't help but spit, disgust evident in the threatened usage of what Agnar deemed the weapon of a coward. Always easy, he thought, to kill a man from behind a loaded barrel.

Looking about the collective his smile died into seriousness. "Take your own advice."

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Samuel "Snakefang" Donnelly

That did it. Sam rose, grabbing his gun and swept it to point the barrel between Agnar's eyes. He'd said he wasn't bluffing. The gun was already loaded. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger. Ace gave a mighty barking snarl, ears flat and fur sticking up. "All I need to do is pull the trigger. So you'd better get the fuck out of here before I blow your brains out of your Damn skull. And stop looking at my Elizabeth like that!"

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(( Bölvaður að deyja sama - Be cursed to die the same ))

The unprovoked and lethal threat was the straw that broke the camel’s back, with Agnar’s last string snapping under the tension mounted upon it, and, with a swift motion, he withdrew the large serrated blade from his sash and, rather than brandish it at the man, he did something remarkable in the age of dishonour.

The Northman sunk the blade into the wooden balcony by his right elbow; the force with which the steel bit into it having the whole structure quiver all down its length as if in fear of an oncoming wrath and groaning from the vicious attack upon its beam. Then however, not only did he strip himself of his defences but also exposed his ‘vitals’ in utter vulnerability as he pulled the loose shirt he wore up and over his head with quick, rough yanks, and threw it onto a nearby table to lay amongst abandoned tankards.

With such exposure, the rest of his primal markings were revealed upon his upper body, displayed in their stark blackness against the skin pulled taut over impressive but practical muscle. Symbols and charms carved into his flesh with metal and charcoal to act as ferocious and strangely artistic reminders of his ancient warrior blood which surged hotly through his veins, of his formidable Viking stock which leant him a spine of steel, the heart of a titan and an unworldly lack of fear in the face of death that all lay hidden beneath his usual easy-going persona. The pagan iconography was as exotic as it was striking and were hallmarks of his elder blood.

There was also a fair share of scars, some of which were large, other small, and they, the tattoos, and the length of woven twine about his neck upon which a simple ring was hung in the hollow of his throat previously unseen, were the only things he wore above the red sash knotted at his left hip.

Arms outstretched as if welcoming an old friend, with calloused palms splayed, he fixed a stern and powerful gaze at the younger man with the gun.

A heavy, pregnant pause.

“Kill me like a coward then!” He roared suddenly, with a power akin to a great wave breaking, as if possessed by an ancestral rage kindled in his burning spirit; made molten by the insult to his honour, “and make a wife a widow!”

The ring about his throat, resting against his steady beat of a pulse, was the only physical evidence he had of his marriage in this strange, hot world so far displaced from her, from Inga.

"Bölvaður að deyja sama!"

» Assassin of the Black Flag(open)
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» Tyrone "T-Bone" Black
» "Black widow" Raven Nash DONE
» Alastair Black "The Blind Killer"