S1: Ep1 - Birds of a Feather

Started by noseatbelts, April 28, 2020, 01:48:53 pm

Pele Kesher

Drugs. It's drugs. We're drug pushers. Pele felt another hysterical giggly fit coming on as Lady Sun went on about the business of weighing the 'rations' that were most definitely drugs, no doubt about it now. Judging by Captain Ingenue's chilly demeanor, the truth was finally dawning on her as well.

The whole ordeal was over mercifully quickly, or perhaps it only felt that way because Pele had all but disassociated from her body during it. Nevertheless, she to make it through with her certified companion composure intact, not a giggle to be seen or heard. She promptly rejected the Greasemonkey's offer for a ride; her shoes were digging into her heels, but uncomfortable clothing was something she was used to dealing with, unlike the risk of accidentally sitting in gore.

"Do you really think we're in the clear?" she asked Francis, somehow managing to match his speed despite her much less practical footwear. She was clutching her purse like a disgruntled church lady. "For someone who's supposedly Sebastian's right hand man, you don't seem to know a whole lot about what's going on."

Speaking of footwear, here came the infamous other shoe, not only dropping but exploding on impact. It all happened so fast; Pele had barely registered the knife against Charity's throat -- a universal sign for "don't make any trouble" if she ever saw one -- when the bullets were already flying, the damsel in distress be damned.

Maniacs, every last one of them. Pele dove behind Francis' back like a startled celebrity hiding behind her bodyguard, only she wasn't going to just cower there. No, he just made for a good meat shield while she rummaged through her purse, her fingers finding the pistol much faster than last time. Maybe she'd skip the thigh strap in the future, as glamorous as it was on paper.

Jedikiah Rembo

November 19, 2020, 07:50:59 pm #81 Last Edit: November 19, 2020, 07:57:40 pm by Jedikiah Rembo
And then they headed home. Or to the ship, not quite home.

After asking Mr. Brown about sending a wave, the good Captain Charity offered him a ride, "Jed, dear, are you sure you wouldn't like to sit here?"

How considerate, but, "No thank you mm," He almost said Miss, but, "Captain. I'd like to work my legs a couple more kilometers, not the same as pacing your ship. Nice to get to stretch out a short walk'a'bout." He smiled at her. A previous look at the others made it clear few of them thought they were clearly NOT in the clear.

That was a spacer way, you're never safe unless you're on your 'boat' and in the black flying at a good solid burn. Still, the crew's sense of uncertainty was infectious. Not that Jedikiah Rembo was ever not at ease and yet ready, prepared and aware. It was the same practiced state of mind.

- - -

At the site of their previous encounter with the Red Talon Jedikiah found his long thin solid staff that had been lost in that recent struggle. He swished it about like a vid swashbuckler a couple of times before he returned it to a steady soft tap to the street while he walked.

- - -

And then the gangs blocked their way. The intricacies were irrelevant. Red Talon, some enemies/former associates? of lawman Black, and a threat to the soft spoken neck of their precious Captain. Miss Charity.

As the silver coined 'Dime' novels read, 'the bullets started to fly like sparrows from the crack of the gun from the tree in the square'.

For Jed it was a slow motion play, there was only one concern as the others moved with speed of those sparrows taking flight. As did he.

If they shot straight and true then the nervous system of the man with the knife at good Miss Charity's throat would go limp. But if not - there would be blood; and thus the staff moved like the striking cobra, without thought, malice or foresight. The staff directed toward the non-space between the soft bit of flesh that touched knife, a prayer to all the gods that came before, to come between steel and the life of this woman that deserved good years yet to come.

Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


They were almost there. Almost back to the safety of their ship. Almost done with this clearly not charitable mission. In her mind, she'd been crafting a elegantly worded wave that she'd be sending in Little Sebastian's direction once they were in route, with a few borrowed words from her crew's less than polite dictionary, when something changed. They were very suddenly met with a group she did not recognize, who seemed to have a problem with the man who was still following them. Her gaze slid in his direction and a brow rose. He was persistent, if nothing else. Maybe he was growing on her, maybe he wasn't. She carefully slipped off the loader and cleared her throat, preparing to be the diplomat in this situation.

"Hello," a second stranger greeted. A hand grabbed around her upper arm and tugged her back and away from her group. Her mouth opened to protest. The cold feel of steel against her neck stilled the debutante and her eyes widened in surprise. Again?! What could she do? Scream? Useless. Fight back? Pointless. And how would she even do that? Her skills in combat boiled down to the ability to faint on cue or to slap someone as an insult, and the only weapons on her body were a parasol and a fan. She was useless.

While she occupied herself with self-criticism and mild annoyance at her situation, several things seemed to happen at once. Something hit the knife just a tad lower from her neck, the blade resting at her décolletage now. Then, the man holding her exploded. Wait, was that right? Yes... yes it was. Two thunderous bangs rang out and peppered his head like a watermelon squeezed too tightly. She flinched, hard, her eyed widening again as blood and brains splattered across her face and neck, staining her dress and promising to keep her company during nightmares. The body fell to the ground with a sickeningly wet squelch and very slowly, Charity turned her head to look down at the mess.

Other things were happening around her, she was sure, but she just couldn't focus on them. A hand clamped over her eyes, King's voice at her ear as he pulled her away from the ensuing battle. "Easy, don't look, you don't need that image in your head," he muttered.

Somehow, it appeared that the stranger, Darius, was the closest and least occupied, as well as their Doctor Jed, who'd been near Charity when the man had gone splat. "You! Lawman! Get her back to the ship! Anyone tries to stop you, you drop them, understand? Or I swear by her pretty floral dresses I WILL end you." King said, his voice full of violet promise. He shoved Charity in Darius' direction, then pointed at Jed in the same instant. "Same to you Doc, Go!" he commanded. Then, he ran in toward Cooper, drawing his knife and gritting his teeth against the pain in his foot.

Charity stumbled against Darius and extended her hand toward King as he ran, "King!" she called out, although she was too startled and disoriented to untangle herself from the lawman and run after him.

*King narrated w/ Axe's help and permission
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Cooper Brown

December 15, 2020, 01:39:25 pm #83 Last Edit: December 15, 2020, 01:55:48 pm by Cooper Brown
Bloody hell I'm still alive.

Then someone kicked him in the face. Then he knew he was still alive. Knocking back into another man that was coming at him from behind he threw an elbow back, and swiped at anyone nearby with his hammer before letting loose the last round he had for his pistol. Now both weapons were bludgeons.

He saw King working his way towards him in the fight. Wasn't he going to let him and the old man have a proper last stand? Then the possibility of dying for gorram Lil' Sebastian just started to irk him. Cooper resolved to himself he'd just have to fight like a demon and kill everyone. What the hell had he gotten himself into? This was supposed to be a bloody run for a pack of smokes.

He blocked as many attacks as he could but more and more were getting through. The adrenaline turned it all into a hot haze of burning. All the mad nomad could do was give as good as he got until help got to him and the former sheriff. He felt the slide on his pistol break as he used it to deflect machete with it. He hadn't fought like this since the war. But only once had death ever felt more certain. He needed to get King to turn back before he got hurt trying to save his doomed arse.

"That boat can fly itself, go!"

That probably wasn't actually true though. He was just getting loopy from all the head-kicks. Block the edged weapon, counter with hammer, shove their collapsing body towards a nearby ally, buy yourself another moment, block the next attack. These were the only thoughts coming together cogently.


Bodies fell. The man with a blade against Charity's throat? His head popped and his body fell. The knife, luckly, went wide of its target. Shikai and Cheing Po were, unfortunately, not among them. Their absence from the fight might have been conspicuous if not for the chaos that ensued.

Those with the misfortune to meet Cooper? Felled with surprising abandon for the attacks of a mere gypsy mechanic. He took his own beating; a blade drew blood, a club bruised (maybe broke) his ribs. Clearing the path took its toll.

Darius found himself beset on all sides, mostly by Cheung Po's crew, but his years of experience of putting the hurt on those that meant ill will were put to good work. While his gun may have needed reloading, it didn't stop him from dealing death. That was, until, he was given a sacred task of getting the captain to the ship.

Jed joined the former sheriff's quest; smooth as his moves would be, the sheer number of their assailants proved that age and experience did not overwhelm numbers. Getting while the getting was good was most likely as prudent as his ancient teachings.

Francis, while his lack of ammunition had certainly caught up with him, found the training instilled into him during training for a war he never fought in mighty handy. He pilfered a falled pair of clubs and beat the living out of those who got in his way. The ship, and salvation, was in sight... but that might mean leaving some of those that fought by his side. Tempting but...

Her gun found out of its hiding place, Pele had a slight hesitation in her aim at a perceived enemy's head. But in a question of him or me, the answer was obvious. The small gun had little kick, but the snap of the man's neck as his life faded from his eyes. He was dead and she, or her comrades, were not. Now, to make her escape...

King, much the same as the other combat ready among them, found bodies on all sides; just as many dead as alive it seemed. He hadn't seen the sort since his time in the war. How were there so many? Which of them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Pirates? Gangsters? Innocent bystanders? They were all the same.

The Odette had enemies all about and a clear goal: get the hell out of Eavesdown.

Darius Black

January 04, 2021, 07:36:06 pm #85 Last Edit: January 04, 2021, 07:40:59 pm by Darius Black
When his gun went dry, it became a bludgeon. 

When an armed enemy went down, Darius holstered his gun and took theirs. 

It wasn't his preference to use random firearms from random pirates.  But preference had very little to do with his current situation.  King had given him an order, and it was one he was keen to make good on.  He would get the Captain to her ship, one way or the other.

He was slower than he'd have liked, on account of his bum knee.  But preference didn't matter much there, either.  One foot in front of the other would eventually get anyone where they wanted to go.  Even a gimp.  Walking slowly wasn't a bad thing for accuracy, either.  Every few steps, he snapped off a shot with whatever pòlàn gun the closest dead man had been carrying. 

He was hit.

Of course he was hit.

You didn't walk through numbers and fire like that without being hit.

But none of it had stopped him, so he kept on going on.  Ever closer to his goal: Escape from the Pirates, Embarkation onto a Ship, Protection of the Captain.

One foot in front of the other.  One bullet after the other.  He hoped he ran out of steps to take before he ran out of bullets.

Jedikiah Rembo

January 09, 2021, 11:41:19 pm #86 Last Edit: January 09, 2021, 11:46:43 pm by Jedikiah Rembo
"You! Lawman! Get her back to the ship! Anyone tries to stop you, you drop them, understand? Or I swear by her pretty floral dresses I WILL end you." King said, his voice full of violet promise. He shoved Charity in Darius' direction, then pointed at Jed in the same instant. "Same to you Doc, Go!" he commanded. Then, he ran in toward Cooper, drawing his knife and gritting his teeth against the pain in his foot.

Charity stumbled against Darius and extended her hand toward King as he ran, "King!" she called out, although she was too startled and disoriented to untangle herself from the lawman and run after him.

--- -- ---

Jedikiah Rembo found that there was little too do after the first moment of the chaos. The outstretched hand of Charity was first gently taken by the old man, then his grip moved farther up her arm as the situation became one of speed rather than grace.

There would be no easy smooth flow of water over rock, nor grain in the wind.

Jed took Charity upper arm in his hand firm and harsh. He move along side Darius, then behind him. It seemed prudent, his order was to protect the Captain. A duty commanded by Akhsar King, though as me moved with haste his mind sorted the odd order and just why he took it as such.

'.. i swear by her pretty floral dresses...' the man had said as he moved Charity behind Darius, the result perhaps seemed to be the lawmen getting shot as a shield often is. Extra words of poetry and description in a scant moment of time.

And the pecking order of the crew was not significant, save the Captain. Save the young woman.

A few got close, a cut along Jed's arm opposite the one that lifted Charity.

Time slowed.

There were too many, unless the relentless tide defied the eternal ocean they would soon die. The moment slowed again. It was not too soon for him, but for the pretty young Captain, perhaps she had a destiny.

Jedikiah Rembo half tossed the Captain forward behind Darius Black and the Berserker Rembo darted out alongside him. A scream of the banshee and devil conjured from the dark realms came forth and he threw himself forward.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner

Cooper Brown

January 19, 2021, 08:27:47 pm #87 Last Edit: January 19, 2021, 09:09:30 pm by HumanHyperbole
A familiar sensation. A lull in combat but not just that. The feeling that death had past him by. The grim reaper was walking in his footsteps again, but his inverse Midas touch had yet to grace him. Cooper felt that slight dip in adrenaline again as he'd felt back then, and then that realization he'd survived a suicide mission. King had fought his way towards him. The old sheriff was with the Captain. Not only was he still alive, this time he might have a chance not to lose his crew, his blood by oath and stay alive. And maybe even come out of that too.

He felt a leg buckle slightly, but the space-Romani was able to push through it. Brown dashed as quickly as he could towards King, and the cargo-loader. He gave the fellow veteran a look. A flash of relief, mixed with an sort of amusement one can only have after narrowly avoiding death. Though fate's judgement for the day wasn't yet made up. He clapped him on the shoulder and jumped up on the loader like it was his faithful steed. The engine quickly hummed to electric life.

"Let's go!"

His first instinct was to raise up his pistol and provide covering fire, but his pistol on inspection was gravely damaged from trying to block more than a couple attacks, and as a blunt instrument itself. The Golden Trail expat dropped the wrecked weapon to the ground he continually damned himself by setting foot upon. Cooper changed his priorities, if he couldn't fight, he'd help them run. There'd be a cost to engine reliability and it'd drain the battery like nobody's business, it was just a matter of popping open the fuse box, pulling one, then a wire re-directed right into where the fuse once was. The wires sparked for a second, but then the vehicle's mild electric hum intensified.

Once King was on back, Coop threw the accelerator down. The filthy mechanic was back on the war-path.

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