This is an extract from a short story that has been on my mind for a while. Using the character of Captain Rolston from Flying Free, This story will be about one of his past exploits,a year and a half-roughly- before he met the rest of the crew in the RP. This is the story of how he came to meet a rather close friend of his, a certain Captain Harvin Thatch, who may or may not be appearing later on in the RP. The character of Cap'n Thatch, is based of the real life Edward Teach- better known as Blackbeard, mostly off of his portrayal in Assassin's Creed IV- Black Flag. He is also based off of Captain Grist from Chris Wooding's The Black Lung Captain (a most excellent read for steampunk pirates cross the seven skies)
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Captain Rolston was rather down on his luck. He was running out of Aerium, He was running out of food, He was running out of ammunition, and he was completely out of money. No money meant no fuel. No grub. No bullets. He'd bloody wasted all of them on failed robberies. Worst of all, oh, worst of all, He was running desperately low on rum. He wandered the dim-lit streets of a small island port, hoping to find a tavern, to spend the few Gideons he had left in his pocket. He passed a wooden lamp post, the light emitted a faint glow and a faint hum, he could hear the generators in the distance. He could always nick some Aerium from them, if things got seriously desperate. Pinned to the wooden lamp post, was a wanted poster, someone named "Harvin Thatch". "Hmmph. Sounds like a right wanker to me." He thought, and wandered on by, following the sounds of merriment and debauchery from just down the street. He entered the tavern, Ordered a bottle, and Sat down in a booth in the corner. An hour or two later, after having a right old laugh playing drinking games, Rake (a poker like game, to which Rolston had a slight addiction) and telling crude jokes, he sat back down in the booth, and drank away the few coins left in his pocket. He saw a pretty redhead, with green eyes staring at him from the bar, she was sat with friends who were laughing, completely oblivious to their friend. Rolston wasn't what you'd call traditionally handsome, but he had a rugged quality that seemed to attract a lot of female attention. Normally, He'd have gone over and sweet talked her into bed, but tonight, he just wasn't in the mood for picking up young maidens who would fall desperately in love with him, it always took some clever and constructive lies to get himself out of staying with her the next morning. He'd begun to reflect on his life over the past few days, when prospects looked down, it was his way of being mopey and sorry for himself. Nothing had gone right over the past couple of years. Not since the war. That war that he'd almost single-handedly lost his side. After a court martial and a dis-honorable discharge, life couldn't really get much worse- Oh, wait, it did. His side losing meant that the Imperial forces took over all of the known map, and ruled with a brutal regime, again, almost entirely his and several other officers fault. His life, and everyone else's had been made almost impossible by the imperial navy, and the only way he could make a living nowadays, and be free from the constraints of the government was to be a pirate. A smuggler. A thief. It was alright work, when you got it, provided you didn't get shot. These trains of thoughts could last for hours if he let them, he stared into his glass, seeing his reflection in this last cup of rum. He drained it, put down his glass, and saw the pretty redhead Standing at his table. "Hello" she said, smiling shyly.
Later, while they were under the bed sheets, he thought about this girl, and what if he settled down, raised a family. This girl seemed nice enough, they had certainly gotten along when they talked throughout the remainder of the evening. He felt the redhead's slender body beneath his as they kissed. "No." He thought. "that life is not for me.". Was there something wrong with him? Why did that concept hold absolutely nothing for him at all? As they lay together, the sounds of her sleep filled his ears, but sleep eluded him. Why was he so restless at the moment? He stared into the darkness, and eventually slept a light, troubled sleep. He was awoken to the smell of cigar smoke, and lots of it. His eyes fluttered open, at the end of the bed was a shadow sat on a chair, and two others, standing either side of the shadow. They were both armed, he could tell that much, but the room was so filled with smoke, it was hard to see anything, even with the light pouring in from the windows behind the figure. The redhead was stood in the corner of the room, wrapped in one of the sheets from the bed. What was her name? he struggled to remember, and failed. The end of a cigar flared and glowed orange, as the figure on the chair breathed heavily. The figure took the cigar out of his mouth, and exhaled a large amount of smoke. It spoke, with a voice that sounded like an engine revving, deep, throaty, and imposing, yet somehow soft. "Cap'n Rolston, Oi presume?" he said, with a west country accent, his voice maintaining the throatiness, no thanks to the cigars, thought Rolston. He got up, and walked out of the smoke, allowing Rolston to see him clearly. A large beard was the first thing visible, as he slowly walked towards the end of the bed. His face was angular, especially his nose, clearly broken many times. His eyebrows were frowning, adding to the imposing nature of this intruder. He was wearing a large, elaborate coat, with lots of buttons and thick bands of embroidery, tarnished and frayed with wear. He had a large cutlass on show, and a bandoleer of flintlock revolvers. He also wore a large hat, again frayed, with a rather shabby looking feather out the top. it had obviously once been grand, but had diminished through many seasons of hard abuse, and by the looks of him, many battles. The redhead looked rather alarmed and was chewing her lip. She hadn't dared refuse these strangers entry when they came knocking, but now she wondered what she'd done. The last thing she wanted was someone murdered in her bed. Apart from anything else, the cleaning bill would be horrendous. "Yer an 'ard man te foind, Mr Rolston..." He said putting his cigar back in his mouth. "That's why I'm still alive," said Rolston, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Mind telling me how you did it?". The man cracked a smile out of one side of his mouth, making him look even more menacing. " 'erd about that bank heist o' yours. After tha', it were a simple matter o' askin' around." He said, giving his cigar another puff. "Could this have not waited until I was back on the liberty?" Rolston asked, slightly irritated about the possibility being cheated out of what might've been quite a pleasurable morning, half relieved at the fact he didn't have to sneak out while she wasn't looking. "Or better still, 'till the middle of next week? I'm quite busy at the moment" he lied. "An' we ain't got that kind of time," said the big man. He looked at the redhead and sucked on his cigar. "Forgive the intrusion, ma'am. We'll be out o' your hair shortly.". "You're not going to hurt him, are you?' the redhead asked anxiously. "Damn, what was her name?" Thought Rolston. " Alice? Alexis? Annie? Nope...". The big man chuckled, smoke leaking out between his teeth, rising around his head in a cloud. 'Hurt him? No, ma'am. I'm going to offer him a job."
Half an hour later, Rolston was back in the tavern, enjoying a breakfast of Chicken, carrots, potatoes and gravy, washed down with a morning beer. There was four of them at the table, the bearded man and his two bodyguards, both of which looked very ready to punch somebodies lights out. The Bearded man introduced himself as Harvin Thatch, Captain of The Red Star. Rolston enjoyed every bite of his breakfast. Food always tasted better when it was being paid for by someone else. "Seriously," he said around a mouthful of chicken. "Why me?"
"you are Darian Rolston, are yer not? the man who ransacked the Archduke's fortress in Arden? who plundered 'is vault for every penny from righ' under 'is nose?" That story had made it's way around it seemed. In two and a half years since the war stopped, he'd been involved in quite a few major scrapes, most of them to do with his antagonism of the Archduke. Yes, it was true, he had robbed the Archdukes vault, but dividing up loot between a crew of 14 significantly cuts your money, and when you piss it away on rum, food and salty wenches, it doesn't go that far... It had also been failed to mention that the money they got way with was stolen in turn, so they lost the majority of it within a day or two of the incident... But he wouldn't tell anyone that part. "Then I got a proposition for ya' " said Thatch. "A dangerous expedition, it's true, but there's vast wealth at the end of it." Rolston's suspicions abruptly faded into insignificance. "Vast wealth, you say?" Thatch chewed his cigar and grinned. "Vast." Rolston sat back in his chair and took a swig of beer. Well. For once, it was looking like being a day worth getting up for. "Speak your piece," he said. "I'm a smuggler, to be plain. Mostly I run Shine an' rumble-dust, but now and then I deal in more unusual bits 'n' bobs. Exotic artifacts an' the like. Antiques, spices. Been known ter steal rare aircraft for collectors, when the mood takes me.". "Can't blame a man for making a living," Rolston said. His ears had pricked up at the mention of Shine. He was partial to a drop or two himself. "My point is, I get around, and I hear a lot," said Thatch. "One day I heard there was some explorer shootin' his mouth off about something he'd seen, so I found him, and I asked what it was all about. Says he found a downed aircraft in a rainforest. A craft full o' treasures, just lyin' there, abandoned. Waitin' for someone to come take 'em." said Thatch. "A rainforest?" Rolston asked. He raised his beer. "Where abouts? Samaria?"
"Durn."
Rolston choked into his beer, spraying a cloud of froth out of the glass and all over his face. He wiped it away with his sleeve and stared at Thatch. "Blood and spit, Man, you want to go to Durn?". "Yep" replied Thatch. "An' Oi want you and yer crew ter come with me." Durn. The vast island off the capital, Arden's, north-eastern coast. Impenetrable. Hostile. Populated by beasts so horrible that the mere mention of them made the local wildlife scatter. Rolston secretly thought that he was being had. He must be joking, but the look on Thatch's face said he was anything but joking. "I take it you have some form of proof of your story, I'm hardly going after this with no knowing if it exists or not." Said Rolston, skeptically. "O'course" said Thatch. He Pulled out a long package, wrapped in canvas. He pulled out a long piece of metal, a hydraulic lift- a landing leg. Rolston had never seen anything like it, it was different to any thing he'd ever seen on any craft. It had vines grown around it, so it must have been in the forest- This could be the break he was looking for. "But jus' to be clear," said Thatch, leaning over to Rolston, "I'm in charge of this one.". That was fair enough. "Right. I'll do it." said Rolston. "I'll inform my crew, and meet you at the Devil's Crag in one week, give me time to prepare."said Rolston, already thinking of the money he was going to get. "No" Said Thatch "We don't have time, the explorer I foun' had gone an' bloody told everyone an' their cat about the wreck. We need ter move, an' move quickly." said Thatch dangerously. "Well, right now, I am running rather low on Aerium, I would appreciate time to refuel. Speaking of money, what are we thinking in terms of payment?" said Rolston."I'll cut you in. Mark me, there's treasure on that craft. Your crew and mine, we'll find it. I can get it to people who'll know it's worth, and that worth is gonna be huge. Whatever I make, we split. Eighty-twenty."
"That' very decent of you, what will you do with your twenty per cent?" Said Rolston, calmly. Thatch's eyes hardened, just a bit. "Seventy-thirty".
"Fifty-fifty" Rolston countered. "Sixty-five, forty-five." Thatch snarled. "That adds up to one hundred and ten." Rolston pointed out. "Fifty-fifty." Rolston said again, "or we say goodbye right here. Your "plan" stinks like rancid dogshit and the only evidence of this vast wealth you're talking about is a lump of twisted metal and the promises of some half-baked inbreed." He said, referring to the explorer. "Frankly, I'm inclined to forget the whole thing and count myself one breakfast richer.".
"Sixty-forty, and that is final." Said Thatch. "I'm damned if I make less than you on my own trip- my crew is larger than yours.". "Durn. Monsters and beast-men. Risky business." Said Rolston. Thatch puffed on his cigar. Pungent clouds surrounded his dirty, bearded face. He leaned forward, looming through the smoke with a yellow grin. "Some things are worth riskin' everythin' for." he said. He held out a rough-skinned, grubby hand across the table. Rolston stared at it for a long moment. Why not? It was better than being bored and poor the rest of his life. He held out his own hand. "Fifty-five, forty-five."
"Done, you thievin' son of a bitch!"