TEST DRIVE 001b

[pyracy]

Try on those ridiculous clothes, sample the catering, and run through your lines. It's time for the Long 18th Test Drive.

ARRIVAL: Characters come to in a dark, tropical forest in a huddle. There are the sounds of strange birds, animals, and insects all around, some of them perhaps worryingly close. With a closer inspection, arrivals realize they're on an incline: Going up will prove fruitless, no matter who they are. The ground there starts to grow rocky the further they climb, and they may find themselves slipping back down to their arrival point, even if they're expert mountain climbers. The ground sloping downward will eventually level out leading toward light, music, and noise. But for the moment, they're simply a group of lost people (or monsters/bipedal animals/robots/etc) with no idea where they are or how they got here. Now's probably a good time to ask, "Who the hell are you? Where am I?" Time to use the buddy system.

TORTUGA: There's a town off the coast of Hispaniola that never sleeps, and that town is Tortuga. It's swapped hands more times than anyone can count, but for now, the French have it. And they do like the extra money the pirates that frequent it bring in; they like it so much that they imported over 1600 prostitutes from Europe to keep them happy. So you might as well relax while you're here, as much as you can with random gunshots and fist fights, anyway. Drop in for a drink at the Faithful Bride, check out the wares for sale (provided to you tax-free thanks to piracy) near the dock front. Visit the warehouse where those ill-gotten goods are stored and distributed. Maybe you're looking for work on a ship? The captains can usually be found - frazzled and busy - in the taverns and at the shipwrights and everywhere in between (just look for the hats), and if they're in a good mood, they might be willing. But the key point of Tortuga is this: Have fun. Some examples might include: A barfight! Wandering into a brothel (maybe by mistake)! Getting duped into joining a crew! There's no end of trouble to get into.

MIRROR POST: When they arrived, every person found, in a pocket or a bag or tucked away somewhere on their person, a little compact mirror. It's nothing fancy: Square, with hinges and a latch that keep it closed, the outer casing carved from seashell, the inner mirror a little spotted with age. But if it's played around with enough, it quickly becomes apparent it works as a communication device. Here you have access to all of the marked folks, no matter how far and wide they might spread. Need to have a heart to heart with a buddy in Singapore? Want to send out a general ad to everyone at large? Looking for answers to questions? This is the quickest way to get all of that.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE: The world is open, and it's full of pearls that are just waiting for you to take them. Maybe you want to have some quiet time to scrub clean in a bathhouse in Singapore. Perhaps you're visiting the fabled pirate city of Libertalia in Madagascar. Maybe you've found yourself lost in Mayan ruins or stranded on an island. Or you were shipwrecked in a hurricane. Or you've decided to relocate to Port Royal or one of the American colonies for a quieter sort of life. Either way, this is your story, might as well make it a good one.

Comments

Hector Barbossa | Some stupid pirate series idk. | come at me bro

[roaming]

ii. tortuga;
[The truly baffling and wonderful thing, in his opinion, about Tortuga, is how it can feel like a new place with every visit, with its evershifting population of pirates and honest sailors that are out to make some extra coin, and like home all at once. It's always been that way, since Nassau was lost when he was much younger, and Tortuga had become even more of a bustling hub of activity than it had been before.

It's always the same waterfront that greets a man when a ship moves to dock, the slips packed as tight as the bumpers will allow, camps hastily thrown together on the beach with captains' tents standing out like sore thumbs, dockwalkers all trying to make some extra money besides whatever they earn from whatever brothel, and a babble of languages from every corner of the globe, because piracy is a culture that crosses cultures.

He and Jack leave the Pearl together (last, always last, it's best to let the crew depart first after tying up and securing the ship, to let them burst free and commence the hedonism as soon as they can) before parting at the end of the gangplank, and Jack has gone his merry way, and Hector will go his own, with his own half of the errands to run, because in this circumstance, at least, while he may gripe, and he may complain, he can admit to himself that Jack will pull through on his half. For the Pearl, if for no other reason. That is, in truth, the one thing that Jack Sparrow can be trusted implicitly on: If it's for the good of her, he'll do what needs doing.

So he, much like Jack, can be found everywhere over Tortuga during the daylight hours, haggling with this shipwright, arguing with that carpenter, and most certainly intimidating the different shops that offer supplies such as food, canvas, and other assorted goods can be purchased, because with this many pirates in port at once, these fools think driving up the price is going to work with their lot. He's not having it.

When the sunlight finally begins to die, he can be found in the Faithful Bride, a tavern a bit out of the way, but bustling with activity and noise all the same, already planning what must be done the next day, and still ignoring the fact that he's bruised and battered from the battle with the Dutchman, because that's simply going to have to wait until the Pearl's taken care of.]

/comes at

[pistolproof]

[ Jack has had many long nights in his life. The day he died, for one. The days he spent stranded on Rumrunner Island, watching Hector sail away on his ship, further and furhter into the horizon. The second time he stood on the same island, marooned. The day he'd been press-ganged by Christophe. The day he freed over 200 slaves, was subsequently tracked down by Cutler Beckett and branded a pirate.

But all of those days had a definite end to them. A time when he said "Enough is enough. I can't change things now, I might as well rest."

Unlike today. Unlike now, where Jack has been up for 48 hours, at least. Where Jack still has things to do, still has a ship to fix. Unlike tonight, where Jack has given up for the night. Because Jack knows better, because Jack knows if he continues on like this, he will be sloppy. And sloppiness leads to incomplete fixes for the Pearl, which is unacceptable. But sloppiness also leads to carelessness, and Jack Sparrow has a number of enemies, even in Tortuga.

He's too tired, even, for company. And so he bypasses the idea of tracking down Scarlett and Giselle and heads to the Faithful Bride, where there's always a room for him.

Except, apparently, there is not.

They heard he was dead, they say. They rented out his room, they say. There's an influx of people (which Jack had noticed), they say. Besides, they say, the plaque outside his room is gone. (He'd taken the plague off the wall years ago. "Sparrow's Nest" now resides proudly ...somewhere in his cabin in the Pearl). But, they say. But, there is one room still available.

Only, the problem is, Hector Barbossa is standing right next to him, also apparently, asking after a room for the night, and was given the exact same answer.

He could, of course, make his way back to the Pearl. There's a tent in there, he could very easily take the tent, set it up on the beach alongside all the other pirates, and sleep there. But the Pearl is on the other side of town, and the beach is further still. Not to mention that he's standing here now, and all he wants is to sleep for 12 hours straight, with no interruptions, unless Davy Jones himself has come back to life and is after his soul.

So Jack does the only thing he can possibly do.

He snatches the key that the barkeep is offering in his and Hector’s direction. And without a beat of hesitation, he turns. And he sprints out of the room. ]

no not you

[roaming]

[He'd lost track of counting the hours he'd been awake at around thirty-six. It had started, of course, well before reaching the Cove. And then Mrs. Turner deciding to declare war on Davy bloody Jones like that was remotely a brilliant idea. And so he, and Jack, and the crew had spent all the night refitting and gearing up for war, losing what wasn't helpful, and packing on more powder and shot, and-

Well, being told there's one room left, in an inn he's stayed at plenty of times in his life, and the person standing next to him being Jack Sparrow-

He's not in the slightest surprised when Jack snatches the key and attempts a run for it. Not at all. and he's considered the same thing, going to the Pearl and grabbing the captain's tent and setting it up and sleeping there, as well, because at this point his vision is blurry and his whole body aches, not just the bruises and cuts and battered parts of him, his normally-achey leg singing a song of pure misery. He's not surprised at all that Jack would be that goddamn selfish and do that.

But what he does know is that it will be a cold day in Hell before he lets Jack get away with it. Aching leg or no, his strides are longer, his reach is longer, and he has little compunction about catching up and trying to shove a foot under Jack's feet to trip him up.]

Like hell y'are, Jack Sparrow, that room be mine, I was here first.

[It's a simple plan. Send Jack face first into the floor. Take the key. Obtain room. Lock Jack out. ??? Profit.]

too bad, i'm here to stay

[pistolproof]

[ The thing is, Jack's played this game before. Playing keep away with a key. Except, last time, it was with the Key to the Chest to the Heart of Davy Jones and his opponents were both William Turner and James Norrington. And he won that round. ]

You must be mistaken, mate. This be my key to my room.

[ This time, however, the stakes are much lower, but his opponent is Hector Barbossa, a man Jack technically has beaten before -- but with a great deal of cheating on the side.

Not to mention that his sway, always a bit more prominent after long stretches of time on the sea, is made a bit longer from his pure exhaustion. And so when Hector sticks his freakishly long leg into the precarious arrangement of Jack's own, it doesn't take much for his balance to finally give up.

He hits the ground hard (and with a loud curse) and the suddenness of it all is enough for him to lose his grip on the key. After all, this one doesn't have a nice string attached it -- there's no easy purchase to the key but the key itself. And it goes clattering out of his hand and out of his reach.

But Hector himself isn't out of range yet. And, instead of scrambling after the key, Jack goes after Hector. He grabs onto one of Hector's leg and he pulls. After all, Hector's got a lot longer to fall than Jack has, and it may give Jack a chance to re-obtain the key before Hector's equally freakishly long arms can grab onto it. ]

this is uncalled for

[roaming]

[The key goes skittering across the floor, and about the time Hector goes to grab for it, does Jack fucking Sparrow grab that damned leg that's been giving him fits since the end of the battle and yanks it. That leg is testy on good days, even Hector will admit that, but right now it is a miserable thing and trying its damnedest to give out beneath him anyway, so Jack's yank is really the last straw.

The knee buckles like its made of wet paper and before Hector can catch himself on anything - the railing of the stairs, a table, a chair - he starts going down, and Jack is right. He does have a longer way to fall. The difference is Jack hasn't, for once, it seems planned the trajectory of Hector's fall, and when he goes down, and hard, it's right on top of Jack. That, at least, softens the blow of the thing initially, despite jarring a thousand tiny bruises and cuts and other assorted injuries, enough to actually get him to seethe.

Before he gropes one hand up to Jack's face and presses down, in the unsuccessful effort to push himself back upright. Funny, really, how he hasn't realized how wobbly his arms feel until now.]

[pirated]

[The most baffling thing about Tortuga, in Elizabeth's opinion, is that anyone bothers to come here at all. It has its uses as far as gathering a crew or lying about your gender and getting on board someone else's crew is concerned; but the smell is repulsive, the noise is too loud, and the company generally leaves a lot to be desired. Elizabeth's been sour in the hours since she's stationed herself in the port town, keeping to herself in the darker corners. She no longer feels like she needs to worry about her own safety doing things like that. She can handle any man that tries crossing her.

It's his arguing with a carpenter that first catches her attention. She moves in close like she's going to talk to him but decides against it at the last second. Staying off to the side, she waits until she finds him in the tavern later that night. Buying a round for the both of them, she makes her way over to where he's sitting. She wordlessly slides his drink across the rickety table to him, and sits across from him. She doesn't need to say that she's here to discuss business. The fact that she's here at all should imply that she wants to without saying.]

Did you get what you were after earlier? [She pauses, realizing how awkward that sounds.] With the carpenter. It looked like you were having trouble.

[Nothing says hello like admitting you've spent the day stalking and watching someone only to turn up and actually try talking to them hours later. But unlike her initial encounter with Jack, she's at least smiling when she speaks to Hector.
He doesn't drive her up a wall, he deserves at least a little kindness.]

[roaming]

[The real question here is, of course, whether he tells her he's seen her off and on all day and doesn't particularly need that announcement of being followed, or does he let her believe he got one over on him and leave it at that. Both have advantages and drawbacks, both have an infinite amount of amusement for him personally, but...The truth is, he is frankly entirely too tired to play the cat and mouse game at the level it would probably require, so he simply lets her think she's made her little deception.

But that is neither here, nor there, nor anywhere else, for that matter. If there has been one person among the living he hasn't expected to actually see here - ever again, if he's being honest - she would most certainly be on the shorter of the short lists. So yes, that is a raised eyebrow at the drink slid across the table to him, that inches higher at the first part of that question and remains where it is when she clarifies, though on the whole he does certainly appear amused. And he is. Partially he wants to ask why it even matters, but he also knows better than to ask questions he doesn't already know the answer to, no matter how benign.]

He came round there in the end. [And that's all he really has to say about it, despite the twitch of his mouth that isn't a smile, isn't even close, but a sign of amusement all the same. It's just repairs for the Pearl; with enough coin dangled in their faces, and enough brow beating, they always do.] Though I find meself doubting the motive of your concern with me haggling with carpenters and their like, Missus Turner. Drink says I'm being buttered up for something I'd like as not rather not hear.

[practically]

[The buddy system that falls into place upon arrival in the jungle serves Clara well enough. She quickly discovers that the heat and humidity do nothing for her hair, and her winter dress that barely keeps her warm back home in London are entirely too much for her here. So when someone suggests that she follow them she heads off with them eagerly enough. But as she tends to do, she wanders off by herself, following the sound of music and noise.

She ends up in Tortuga looking a little wide eyed and confused. But this place isn't all that different than what she's used to. Just louder and filled with men that look suspiciously like scoundrels, that's all. Not concerning herself with that, Clara makes her way through the winding streets and pathways to gain her bearings. How she ends up working at the Faithful Bride only an hour or so later is beyond her. She's not officially working there, of course. She just happens to see some men that need drinks and go to retrieve it for them. It was one of her jobs back home, working at the Rose & Crown. Being in a tavern is like her second home. Something tells her that will come in more useful than her other profession. No one seems to need governesses here.

She's in the middle of carrying a tray through the tavern toward a table of rowdy men when one of them touches her backside. Gasping, she reacts on instinct and uses the tray with the drinks still attacked to hit him a few times. In the process, she manages to start a brawl that breaks out across most of the tavern. Deciding that maybe she's in over her head with this, she gathers her skirts and hurries over to hide behind the only man that looks like he isn't interested in a fight. Her hand reaches out to touch at his arm in the process.]

Don't happen to have a sword on you, do you?

[Even in a place like this, her thick Cockney accent stands out above the chaos. The fact that there's a hint of a smile to her tone probably stands out a little too.]

[roaming]

[He's sat here, right at his table, and he's watched the whole thing go down. It's fairly hard not to, honestly, as it's all taken place in his line of sight, and it has made an incredibly loud ruckus. But the truth of the matter is, when the bar fight breaks out...He...Continues to sit right where he has, not moving a muscle to actually involve himself, instead simply taking a drink from his tankard and going back to the list on the scrap of paper in front of him, of all the things that will still need doing come the morning.

Welcome to Tortuga, miss.

But even though its no concern of his whatsoever, here she is, very obviously trying to drag him in, what the beelining to his table and the touching of the arm. Were he a man more inclined to be swayed by a pretty face, and less absolutely doggedly exhausted as he currently is, it might work.

Might.]

Aye.

[And that's all he offers, scribbling another note on the paper with his quill before dipping it once more in the inkwell next to him.

Asked and answered, as far as he's concerned.]

the faithful bride

[childhero]

[Hi, Hector. If you thought you were going to get through your planning without something weird happening, I don't know what you were thinking.

Because right now, there's a strange kid walking up to your table. He's tiny, not even reaching four feet in height, with big pointed ears sticking out the sides of his head. He's dressed in green clothes, including a big floppy hat, with a creepy reflective shield strapped to his back over a sword that's about as big as he is. But as if those things aren't enough, he also has a bizarre black and white spotted... thing on his head. "Hat" is probably closest, but, uh. Can you really call it that? (Also of note would be a cuff on his left wrist, looking like it's made of real gold with real rubies set in it. It doesn't match anything else about his outfit)

He has a very serious expression on his young face as he approaches. But he doesn't say anything at first; he seems to be waiting for Hector to finish whatever it is he's working on, and he waits patiently and silently.]

[roaming]

[And he is working, thank you very much. The sad truth of the matter is, after the battle there is so much left to be done, between the Pearl needing more repairs than he'd initially considered, refitting, the crew, at least, has been paid and sent on their merry way...There's no end to it.

If anyone had told Hector that becoming a captain, all those years ago, would be mean Tortuga would just be more work...Well, he'd still be a captain now, wouldn't he. The truth is, he won't settle for anything less.

So he simply crosses another item off on the list he's had since the Pearl had turned to Tortuga, and glances up then, seeing the...Thing. For a moment, as it's what's mostly eye-level, it's all he sees, and there's a split second grinding of teeth, thinking that perhaps someone wants to have a go, and that would be a very bad mistake on their part, indeed, until he realizes it's attached to a boy who, by all accounts, is rather on the puny side.

He's already turned down a handful for powder monkey and cabin boy this evening alone, and this one, with that ridiculous hat, is going to be no different.]

We don't need more crew, so me suggestion to you would be go hide in your mum's skirts a while longer.