That Flag Of Baleful Black - Private RP

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE
Hours would tick by. An excruciatingly slow process. They might gain ground quickly but they could not be certain they would lose the ship on their stern for some time. And even then they knew she was close behind. With free waters so close one could taste it every second ticked by like it had been a full hour. Vane remained at the helm the entire time, calloused hands gripping the ship’s wheel as they made their headlong rush towards the waters they were all praying for.

The storm was on their tail as was the Navy ship. And in truth, they were just barely out of cannon range for the majority of an hour. The Man O’ War giving full sail to her own vessel in hopes of taking out the Ranger before she got too far ahead. But with the fact the Ranger was lighter and not as heavily armed eventually she gained ground and put some more distance between herself and the Navy vessel. And as the time slowly progressed the wind took hold and pushed the Ranger farther ahead.

The storm was behind them now and open waters just ahead. But Vane would not leave his post until he was certain. Certain they were safe in open waters. Then all they would have to contend with was other pirates. That was a far easier fight than dealing with a Man O’ War. If they were lucky they could take the far trip around and avoid shipping lanes and thus avoid the possibility of running into other pirates on the hunt. If any one of them found out the prize Vane carried there would be a fight. And he couldn’t risk that. It was that simple. They would stay clear of shipping lanes and take the long run around and make port in Nassau.

It was not until Vane was certain the storm had completely put a halt to the beast of a Navy ship’s race to capture them and they hit open waters that he handed off the control of the wheel once more. The cheers from the crew the second they hit those waters for certain erupted in a chorus of voices. Vane was well aware the storm was almost on them but it would take some time. “Get us as far ahead as we can, then bring down every last sail and secure everythin’ before the storm hits. We’ll ride it out and raise sail come mornin’. That means cannons, hatches, the supplies in the hold... everythin’. I want everyone that doesn’t need to be on deck below deck. We can’t afford to lose any crew in a gale. See it done.” The order was spoken to his Quartermaster and without another word he made his way down from the quarterdeck

A hand settled onto the door, the loose knob told him enough. Rather than turn it he pulled the key from his pocket and made to act like he didn’t realize it was unlocked. When he had turned the key and found it unlocked he pushed on a look of concern and pushed open the door. Stepping inside he closed the door behind him and made sure it locked, pushing the key into his pocket and stopping just inside the door. “At least yeh can follow orders…”

He started, pausing only to move towards her. He masked the tightening of his muscles. He wasn’t a fool. He knew she was most likely going to try something. He’d be ready and she’d find out the mistake in her choice quickly. “We’re goin’ to be stuck in here together a few hours princess, might as well make yerself comfortable. We got a squall on our stern and we won’t be able to outrun her much longer.”


OOC: Home at last. May be going out later though. I need to do laundry at the least.

Jeanne nodded, acting as if nothing had happened. She sat down on her cot, the knife under her dress, out of sight. Her hand moved to her head, massaging the side of her forehead with two fingers. A quiet sigh left her lips as she contemplated on whether she should make her move or not.

"I don't expect you would like to tell me about your ship? It seems to be a mighty one for its size." She spoke up, her eyes darting over at his direction. Part of her knew he might already suspect something was up, but the other part wasn't sure.

She expected if he outwitted her, the punishment would be heavy. Jeanne didn't quite feel up to a whipping. Especially not from a rage-filled man such as he.

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE

“And just what makes yeh want to ask such a question?”

The tone he spoke in was not cold but it was sharp. Despite this abrupt tone, he did not let himself show any sign of suspicion and uncertainty. Instead, he merely paused just beside the table and grabbed a chair. A moment later he had settled down into it without a word. He watched her for a brief moment more and during that time he was silent, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression of annoyance remained, a mask to the fact he knew she had something planned.

Deception was something Vane had learned from a young age. He had no other choice. If you wanted to steal an extra apple for dinner, or an extra drink of water you had to act like nothing was wrong. That everything was going exactly as everyone should expect it to. Not what you should expect it to. Nervousness, seeming skeptical or suspicious would only lead to being caught. Too much confidence gave it away, though. And right now her words were just exactly what he would expect from someone trying to hide something and not being very good at it. But he didn’t plan to act any different than he would if he didn’t expect anything was wrong.

“I stole her if yeh must know…” He paused briefly. “She was the property of the Navy at one point. At the time, she was one of their best for her class. The Man O’ Wars yerh father sends out are heavy in comparison. Slow. The Ranger was meant for speed. She’s large enough to hold the crew I have so why take more than I need? She’s fast and can handle the guns we outfitted her with. The Navy must not miss her too much, they haven’t really come chasin’ after her until now. She serves a better purpose now anyway. The speed is what I need. I can give her muscle with cannons and a crew. But you can't take away something to gain the speed you need.”

Slowly she stood, walking over to the table and standing beside it. Her eyes fixed on his as she listened, actually curious about the ship, not just trying to keep him busy. But she had to admit the ship wasn't the only thing on her mind. The plan had come about in her thoughts, and she was fixing to strike.

Jeanne thought he looked very cold and austere in that position, "You look very tense, here..let me help." Stepping behind him, her hands cautiously began massaging his shoulders, not sure if he would allow this or not.

The knife was in a safe place, where she could grab at any time. She half-expects him to lash at her as she massages his shoulders, since he always seemed furious at everything. But there was always a chance he could ease up a little, her hands were just right for creating the perfect massage, so he might. She shall see.

A soft smile broke on her lips as she remembered her pet dog, Pilot, at him. Her parents didn't care for him, and neither did the tutors. But Jeanne found a way to take in the old, shaggy dog, despite everyone else's wises. He was a dear to friend to her, she had planned for him to come with her. Maybe she could send for him at her aunt's, if she even got there. She wasn't entirely sure what would or could happen, it was slightly frustrating, not knowing her own fate. Her father held his money with tight grasp, only letting her mother spend lavishly on clothes and jewels. And then of course she was given an allowance, a generous allowance, which she saved up to be able to escape.

I guess it's a good thing I don't have my money, they can't steal it if I don't have it with me. Or maybe it's a bad thing, since I need to give him more coins for possibility of going to her aunt. She shook her head quietly at these thoughts, not sure what to think about it.

Last edited on 2016-08-28 at 17:00:58 by Eηcнαηтε∂

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE

His eyes tracked her movements, following them until she was behind him. Did she really think she could pull the wool over the eyes of a man who had seen what letting his guard down could bring? Even as her hands made contact with his shoulders he played the part. He tensed like she expected from him. Agitation rising now to a visible level. However, he did not move.

If she wanted to play the game of deception he would teach her a thing or two. With his shoulders remaining stiff he let a low sound of displeasure fall from his chest. A sound that seemed to become choked out as he seemed to start to relax. He remained where he was, playing the act of a man reluctant to let someone close but slowly losing the battle. Eventually, he seemed to let her defeat him. And he did this well. She would be hard pressed to see through the mask he threw on. He said nothing, merely seeming to let himself give in.

At least until the last moment.

A flurry of movement, he lunged forward, one hand grabbing the back of the chair as he turned, the other pulling a knife from his boot as he spun, the chair now behind him as he grabbed her wrist. He swung her around in a rough fashion, wrapping one arm around her waist as the other drew the knife to settle with the blade just barely pressed to her neck. With him behind her he leaned down, every towering inch shifting so he could speak into her ear, the rasp barely heard except to her. “Princess...I warned yeh…” With a rough shove, he pushed her forward as he pulled the knife aside so if it did slice into her it barely made a scratch.

“Did yeh truly think I would be so easy to fool? I’ve had years at this game and yeh only a few choice days. Most of my men would be keelhauled for this. Put on trial to face their crewmates if I was feeling compassionate. Or… if they really got under my skin I’d kill them myself. Yeh, dear princess, do not have those luxuries But given that I can’t send yeh to the brig at this time yerh stuck right here until the storm lets up. Hand over the knife yeh took from that barrel… then yeh can take a seat on that cot and keep yerh pert little a** parked right there while I secure yeh like the crew is securin’ the Ranger. And yeh will stay there to mornin'. Then I will decide what to do with yeh."


OOC; Well this could go bad or it could wind up somewhere entirely elsewhere

Her eyes flashed with anger, clenching her fists as she glared at him. "I had to try at least!" she yelled, throwing the knife on the floor angrily, her heart pounding. A small scratch started to redden slightly on her neck, she touched it with her finger, a small tiny drop of blood spreading onto her skin.

"Don't think that I will give you a massage again." she mumbled, padding over to the cot and sitting down, holding out her wrists for him to tie up. Jeanne didn't meet his eyes, too angry with him to give him the 'pleasure' of her gaze.

That scoundrel!! If Pilot was here he'd chew his stinkin' leg off!, she thought with a frustrated sigh. Jeanne didn't exactly hold a grudge against him, she just didn't like his behavior.

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE

“An excuse that will cost yeh more then yeh know princess.” The rasp was thick with venom and rage as he took hold of the knife and moved it a safe distance from her, his own still in his hand. With her sitting on the cot, he moved to a chest that was settled near a slightly larger cot, no less comfortable, that he tended to sleep on. When he didn’t fall asleep in the chair he often found himself in while he scoured maps and charts when sleep wouldn’t find him, of course.

Throwing open the chest he rifled through it before he found what he needed. A length of chain with two shackles on it, one on each end. Slamming the lid shut he moved towards her and attached one shackle to the leg of a small table that was bolted to the floor by his cot and then ran it across the floor and a moment later he’d secured her ankle into the other end. For a moment he watched her from where he kneeled on the floor. There was nothing said as he looked her over before he pushed himself upwards.

“I might have considered that offer of yerh’s... the extra coin yeh sent for to get yeh somewhere cushy that didn’t have all those rules yeh hate. But in this world princess, yer actions cost yeh. Yeh can forget me takin’ yeh anywhere. If yerh father has a half a brain he’ll pay yerh ransom and I’ll send yeh right back to him… gladly. If he’s as dense as yeh though, yeh’ll be in a Hell far worse than yeh can imagine. I hope yeh like hard labor princess… because yerh goin’ to need a good healthy respect for it if he ain’t got the gall to try and save his own daughter.”

Truthfully in Vane’s mind hard labor was compassionate. He could be sending her somewhere far worse. Slavery might not be the life she called kind but of all the places he could sell her to a labor camp was gentle in comparison. There were plenty of brothels and other places that would pay top dollar for her. A labor camp might, in the end, sell her to them but Vane didn’t truly care. When she was off his hands it wouldn’t matter. Moving across the room he grabbed another bottle from the liquor cabinet, mind churning with anger and the slow realization he actually was being kind enough not to sell her to some high-end brothel. A long gulp from the bottle pushed the thoughts from his head and he settled himself down into his chair.

Most might call him cruel for what he was considering doing if her father wouldn’t pay. Especially given his own past as a child slave. But he’d learned one thing about this world and it was you looked out for yourself and your brethren and not a single soul else. And she was neither of those. And because of that, he cared little for what would become of her. It was heartless and callous but the hard lessons he’d learned were not something that would flee him just because she was a female or she was attractive. No, he’d done worse to women out of spite and rage than what he was considering doing with her.

So with the bottle in hand, he once more set to scouring his charts. How many times he had checked them God only knew but he wanted to be certain. He could not afford any mistakes. With his mind focused he sighed, peeling off the shirt he wore as he did. He was too angry to even care she saw every last scar across him. The lashes, the bullet wounds, the stab wounds and knife slices. If she wanted to comment on it, he would be more than happy to gag her next. Tossing the shirt aside a calloused finger traced a line across one of the charts as the other hand flipped open a notebook off to the side of the table, matching the writing on the page to the chart.




OOC: He's very slowly softening up. Just a tad. I couldn't sleep so I did this.

Jeanne glanced at him, taking in every detail of his scars, she thought them not ugly but as a man's many memories. She couldn't find it in her heart to feel sorry for the man, after all he had kidnapped her!

As the hours dragged by she remained quiet, not speaking a word. She looked down at the chain on her ankle, crinkling up her nose for a brief moment at them. They were cold against her skin, but not terribly tight. She laid her head on her hand, looking down at the floor.

That man, I don't even know why I think of him so much. I should be thinking badly of him, I should hate him!. She wanted to pull her hair out in frustration at herself. Why couldn't I be so heartless as he?? No, I could never be cold nor heartless.

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE

He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been sitting there. For a time he’d felt her eyes on him but eventually he lost any desire to care. It might be the rum talking or maybe it was his focus on the charts and calculations. Or was it the sound of the waves lashing at the hull and the rolling thunder? Light flickered in through the windows now and then. Violent lashes of lightning from the skies above. And it was fierce. A squall to compete with the best of them. Vane, however, seemed almost at peace.

Most would be sick with the tossing and turning of the ship as she fought to keep her heading. Now and then shouting of the helmsmen to the expendable crew filtered in. It was nothing to truly worry about. He caught every word and paid heed to anything that might need to summon him to the deck. As the hours crawled by the storm began to waver in her strength and the crew made changes to those on deck every hour or so. Vane would have preferred to be handling the Ranger himself but he also knew his crew couldn’t afford to lose him.

As self-centered as that might seem to some he knew the one thing that would hold them together should things go South was their Captain. It had to be. A pirate crew couldn’t function otherwise. And unless he was absolutely needed on deck he needed to stay put. And even with the fierce gale, his crew had faced worse. They would handle this storm just fine. So he remained in his quarters, eyes dancing across the charts spread out on the table, now and then raising the bottle of rum to his lips or rolling and smoking one of the infamous hand rolled cigarettes.

His mind seemed calm but inside it was tormenting him. His focus on his charts lacking though it did not seem as such. Half the time he had to double back to check a coordinate three or four times. She might not see it but he knew it was there. And he could blame the spoiled little brat who was probably drilling him with the glare of an ill-tempered child. She was spoiled, childish, and thought herself above the world’s rules and the consequences. He would delight in seeing her forced into the physical labor and pain he’d once endured. And yet something about sending her off to such a thing didn’t feel right. And that was what truly ate at him. That something was trying to stop him. Whatever it was.

As the storm slowly fell silent Vane found himself staring at the same coordinate he had been on for the last ten minutes. A slow sigh passed his lips. Closing the journal he took another long gulp from his rum. There was another long moment of silence before he leaned back in his chair and the usual baritone rasp broke the silence. “What were the rules…” He paused for a moment. The rum told him that made perfect sense but his ability to handle large amounts told him he needed to explain. His brain kicking him for letting the booze talk more for him than his brain was. “The rules yerh father set on yeh. What were they?” He finished, not turning his head to face her, waiting for the answer or the refusal to reply.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she heard the question pass from lips, was he really asking about that? She assumed he didn't care at all about her life, and thought of her as a spoiled princess, or maybe a rotten 'child'. A few minutes passed as she thought about if she should answer or not. He didn't seem to be demanding for an answer, yet it sounded as if he didn't expect one.

With a slow, cautious start she spoke, "The main one was to never leave the castle, nor speak to any of the servants. After that one was never to speak in the king or queen's presence unless spoken to. Those weren't really hard to follow, I didn't mind obeying them but...the last one, it was a ghastly rule."

She shivered momentarily, the mere thought of it disgusted her. "I was forced to follow it, despite my many efforts not to." a moment slipped by before she finally said it, "I was to watch as they beat the souls out of the prisoners, they told me it was to 'strengthen' my willpower to help others. My 'parents' were evil, you might not believe me, and just think I'm a selfish girl but they are. "

Her head lowered, looking down at her hands as she held back the tears. Pull yourself together Jeanne, you can't show weakness to him, she kept mentally telling herself.

Last edited on 2016-08-28 at 22:10:42 by Eηcнαηтε∂

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE


Vane didn’t speak for a moment, listening instead. His hand remained wrapped around the bottle as he listened. He let her explain at her own pace, listening to the break in her voice. There was a long time after she finished speaking before he let his voice fill the deafening silence.

“It does not take much to convince a pirate the King and his men are dark and devilish souls. We may be monsters in our own right but we know what oppression is and we have reasons for why we stand against it. Freedom is somethin' we crave, no matter what it takes. We may be criminals and animals but we are not nearly as bad as those within England are made to think. We have families, lives, lovers. We are human and our goal is not to kill or torture but to take from the Crown just enough to survive, just enough to let your... father know we won’t stand for what he does to the poor, the desperate and the unfortunate.”

There was a moment of stillness, nothing said as he let the words sink in. Slowly he drew a deep breath, focusing on the fact he was really about to let the next part be spoken. His fingers tightened their grip on the bottle, silence filling the room as he downed one more long gulp. “My parents sold me when I was young. Slavery. It was for coin, just enough to survive on. They wouldn’t have been able to live without the coin. And I was promised a good meal and place to lay my head. They didn’t know the truth behind what I would face and sometimes I still try to tell myself they didn’t care but, in truth I can only blame those who pushed them to it. I lived as a slave in a labor camp most of my childhood.” For a long moment, he was quiet.

“Eventually, I escaped. Managed to sign on to a crew and took the long hard path up the heap from the bottom to where I am now. I’ve lost people, loved people, seen them stab me in the back, try to kill me. Was even buried alive once. The fact is this world wouldn’t be pushed on any of us if it wasn’t for yerh father. So to make it short, I know damn well he’s a cruel and heartless creature. But I also know if we want to beat him we can’t afford to roll over and show our bellies to him.” He grit his teeth slowly and turned his head, sighing.

“But cryin’ won’t help. Nassau, where we are headed, she’s got good people, the coin the ransom would make is to help fund better defenses, to be able to make a stand. I might seem callous but this... this entire thing was for those who would follow me and the captains of the crews back in Nassau. Yeh want to stick it to yerh father, we can. But it’s goin’ to be a long, hard road, yerh goin’ to have to harden up and do it quick cause it’s a lengthy, hard journey up ahead and once yerh on it there is no turning back to run home.”

Jeanne listened closely to his words, a little surprised that he 'agreed' with her? Her eyes looked back up at him, as he told his story about being sold into slavery. Indeed she had seen slaves from 6 to 50, so she could believe in the story. His scars gave her more insight into his story, it almost even made her feel pity for him. It wasn't a shock to her that he was treated badly, even the word 'slave' sounded horrible. But it seemed if no one was going to pay her ransom she'd be a slave.

He was right about that, crying wouldn't help, and neither would emotions. She raised her head slightly, looking at him with respect.

"I will do anything, to see that my father can no longer hurt anyone. You have my sworn word on that, and I don't break my promises." she spoke with truthfulness, her eyes gleaming with good intentions. Jeanne would even take the crown if she had to, though that's definitely not what she wanted to do with her life.

Hard journey, sounds better than that castle to me!, she thought, almost happily. Happy to be either a slave or work on the ship, it sounded odd but she was happy about it. Right now anyway.

Last edited on 2016-08-29 at 10:56:23 by Eηcнαηтε∂

CAPTAIN CHARLES VANE

A frown pushed past his lips, watching the expression that overtook her face. Determination and good intentions written all across. Vane knew far too well those things were snuffed out quite easily in the world he lived in. A sworn word was only as good as the ability of the person to fulfill the promise. In her position a sworn word meant little. Not due to mistrust but because in the end, she was merely a profit for him. It didn’t matter where or how he got that profit. If her aunt paid it, her father or some labor camp owner. And she was in no place to make promises. He had made no promises to her and he would not. If she could gain the coin to pay the ransom through her aunt and then agree to help he might agree to such a deal.

But she knew little about combat or the ugliness that was piracy and the culture it brought. In the end, she would be more in the way if she did not leave with her aunt. However, that was not to say she could not offer help from elsewhere. It was merely the fact he couldn’t afford to put her life on the line, especially if she was going to be a benefactor or some sort of assistance to their little war.

Vane didn’t want the entire sea, he didn’t want even a country. He wanted Nassau. He wanted the freedom for the people who lived there. The ability to turn a profit on stolen goods, the chance to live without the laws. In a sense, he wanted the freedom for Nassau to govern itself. And that was the only war he was worried about winning. And it was the coin from the prize of ransoming Jeanne that would gain them what they needed for that endeavor. Shaking his head slowly he pushed a large, calloused hand through the unkempt, light brown locks before dropping it beside him. “In the world, I live in princess I don’t count too much on the word of anyone, even if I know them to have a good track record. Yeh want to prove yerhself that’s fine, I’d let yeh do it. But, I don’t hold my breath for anyone easily.”

For a moment he was silent, seeming to be thinking before the deep rasp sounded once more. “The best bet we have is, as much as I hate to admit it, yerh family elsewhere. The coin we could garner from them would fund more than just an attempt to make our stand and gain the ability to self-govern Nassau. But it would also add the ability to see we hit the ground runnin' when it comes to the self-governin'. And that will allow a better chance at seeing more than just Nassau helped. So, for now, we shoot for that. I make no promises on what will happen to yeh princess but… I will do what I can to see we both come out of this better off then we went in.”

Jeanne stood up, the little bit that she could, her legs against the side of the cot and her arm behind her from the other chain. "Maybe you are right, and maybe you are wrong. But only time shall tell, Captain Vane, but if I am 'bought' by my aunt, I will try my best to..." she took a sharp swallow, barely believing that she was saying this, "I will do my best to gather you more gold coins. I will endorse any cause to stop my father from his wicked ways."

She sat back down, gazing down at the floor, her mind wild with thoughts. Am I really warming to this man?! I shall not and can not do it! He is a scoundrel, a mean man, a thief and a kidnapper! But yet...he has the ability to lead the destruction of my father. And that is something that is well needed for my kingdom.

Oh, how much she'd love to slap herself right now! Though it would bring up too many questions from the pirate's mouth. She longed for her normal way of thinking, but did not lust for her previous residence. Jeanne was so confused with herself, she did not know what to do anymore. She was under the Captain's 'mercy', and had no way to take control of her situation.

Last edited on 2016-09-17 at 13:51:52 by Eηcнαηтε∂