Pirate Game Fan Fiction


A Survivor's Word (Part XII) by D.S. Devereaux


Author's Note: In this particular time, there has been no need to care about the realms of Marleybone and Aquila. -DSD

Destiny shrugged. She felt her arms again, still making sure that her daggers were intact. She bowed her head to take off the spear-sling, removing a small tin of oil from her bags. She dabed a little on spare cloth and rubbed it along the spearhead, making it shine in the evening light.

“That still doesn't solve what we're going to eat.” Destiny removed a piece of stone from the pile of debris near her, tossing it into the depths of the lighthouse. She heard something hiss.

“Delaney, can you make light?” Delaney lit the surroundings with a ray of chilling green light. In the shimmering glow, a scorpion emerged, tail curling, ready for attack. Delaney snapped her fingers, then swiftly turned and covered the eys of those behind her, as the poison sac tip of the tail exploded. When it landed on the ground, it evaporated into the air, leaving behind a watermark that gained transparency as time progressed. Unsure of what to do next, the scorpion curled into a ball, baring its protective scales. Remmy grimaced – he hated anything crawling! - and pointed a sparkshooting pistol towards the creature. The lightning enveloped it for a second, then the creature went limp.

“Glad Stingtails are larger than meager scorpions, we could probably east this!” Fin said in the most enthusiastic voice since Destiny had met him, a very long time ago.

“It's no flying fish, and we'd have to find more.” Sarah warned.

“Delaney, it's yours. I can plank-paddle out and spear a few fish.”

Destiny retrieved her spear and smiled a little. “How about it? Fish grill on me?”

“Nugatory, Cap.” Fin grunted, “You can't go alone, not on a plank like that.”

“You don't have aim like I do, or precision like Delaney does.” Remmy pointed out. Sailing isn't a good idea without a ship. “

“We need food!” Sarah complained.

“Fine, we'll find out in the morning. Del, can you split that?”

“You bet.” She said solemnly, as if in an extinguished hope for full meal. That evening, the Sky's Ransom began plotting the food situation. Eventually, everything came down to who did what. It was decided that the crew would make one last attempt to go into the forest and look for Juan when they got enough food. Also planned was a possible escape route to somewhere safe.

“Corsair's Cove would be safe indeed, but there's too little supply there.” Destiny argued.

“There are flying fish everywhere, and the Yum-Yum is plentiful.” Fin countered, “Obviously, you haven't been there. Gunn liked it for a reason.” Destiny sat back.

“We could get caught, and...and, there are Cutthroat ships everywhere.

No more..” Destiny trailed off in her mind. Imprints of her imprisonment in Gullet flashed back in her mind, how she was completely helpless under the command of Karo and brutality of Marcus.

It scared her, and she knew that they knew the same. Destiny landed on the idea that the Armada, too, knew that their little fugitive had to be scared stiff to follow orders. She looked towards Remmy, and started to try and find “Armada Traces” as she liked to call them, in his eyes. Not many got captured by the Armada and lived to tell the tale. Remmy's face was still very innocent – he probably didn't know the complexity of getting captured by the Armada, perhaps because he had gotten out so fast. Destiny had once struggled for a few months behind bars before she broke out through a half-mad rampage. Destiny knew that insanity was without water, and perhaps the adrenaline would get her a way out. Being was very stubborn, she almost died on her way out, if she wasn't rescued straight away by Boochbeard and Mr. Gandry.

What a time that was – Avery wasn't happy at all. Then again, could he ever have been? Destiny recounted the capture after that, and the one after that, and a little less her most recent. Avery was hardly ever happy with her. In fact, Destiny started to question her compliance with him. Of course it was shattered now, but there were the times when Avery could be pleased – the time that she recovered a few of his possessions, and when she ran a letter or two to the Holy Monquisition.

“Where'd you get the skiff?” Remmy asked Delaney, “All I got from Avery was a raft.” Destiny nodded to herself. She was proving her point. She hadn't even gotten a raft from Avery – she hitchhiked and clung to hulls until she built up enough money to buy a galleon.

“Face it,” Fin sighed, “We really are doomed.”


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