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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

new draft on wattpad

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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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Oh hello there.

I see you have stumbled across this story of mine.
You may have seen it floating around before, as I
have been working on the first draft for about a year.
However comma it is time for Swindle to get
a major revamp. This is the second draft of the
story and things will be quite different.

In case you were wondering, this is my main project.
I have put a lot of time and effort into these
characters and this story for well over a year- maybe
two at this point, I don't even...
So I would love to hear any feedback you have.
Any comments really mean a lot to me, as I'd like to
make this story the best it can be.

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Whatever I may have done to deserve the torment
of this life, I couldn’t say. That does not mean I don't
know what I did to deserve far worse in the next.

The Obsidian could sail under the name of a
thousand men, but mine alone will walk beside
it until time itself begins to unravel. Mine will be
the name that haunts the scarlet sails long after
they’re claimed by the sea. For years past and
hundreds to come, I have been and will continue
to be the subject of song; endless tales will be told of
my treachery until the day I fade into myth. Man will
carry my legacy through generations, words laced with
ignorance, for there is one question each failed to ask.

Which of the tainted tales holds the truth?

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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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obsidian crew

Timothy Thorton // first mate . twenty-seven
Benjamin Huckins // cabin boy . sixteen
Samuel Devol // sailor . twenty-one
Welin Finnegan // physician . forty-two
Tajo Denton // navigator . thirty
Tiago Ramos // rigger . thirty-two
Joseph Bishop // boatswain . twenty-nine
Klaus "Maus" Ludwig // gunner . thirty-six

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main
x . Scarlet Waters // captain . twenty-two
x . Vincenzo Esposito // stowaway . twenty-four

secondary
Alistair MacDuncan // rival captain . twenty-six
Warren Elmwood // scarlet's brother . twenty-five
Edwin Elmwood // scarlet's brother . twenty-six
Arista Prescott // edwin's fiancee . twenty-four
Fiorenza Nicchi // vin's half sister . seventeen

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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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interlude | one | two | three | interlude | four

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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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have a stamp

Code: Select all

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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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merseyside, england. october 3, 1696

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“You’re a dirty liar, Scarlet.”

“Am not!”

The shouts echoed through the otherwise silent house. One voice was deviously cheerful, words escaping through a young boy’s smirk. His blue eyes gleamed as he taunted his younger sister, his blonde hair sticking out at every angle. He watched her fingers drum madly on her knee- a habit she’d taken up whenever she was lying. Suddenly, he let out a dramatic gasp and pointed a finger behind her. “Look out! Pyrates!”

Pale blue eyes suddenly wide, the girl whipped her head around, red curls flying about her face. Smirk restored, her brother leaned forward and grabbed her forearm.

“Hey!” The girl shrieked in protest, trying to pull her arm away. “Warren!”

Warren snatched a card from the sleeve of her tattered blue dress- the ace of hearts- and released his grip, sitting back again and raising an eyebrow. “You little cheater,” he sneered, holding the cards between two fingers. “You should know better than to use my own tricks against me.”

Suddenly, a bout of laughter sounded beside where they sat on the dusty wood floor. “What are you laughing at?” Scarlet snapped at her younger brother, who had only just turned a year old.

“Even Bennett knows that was a ridiculous attempt,” Warren snidely remarked, crossing his arms.

With a glare his way, Scarlet crawled towards Warren, scattering the cards between them, and reared up to lash out. Warren simply laughed and grabbed her wrists, though admittedly he struggled to keep her hands away from his face. “How many times have I told you that pyrates come after people who get caught cheating?” He shouted sarcastically and well over the volume of her own accusing screeches.

Suddenly, the hostile uproar was silenced by a deafening boom outside, followed by a red cast over the window and illuminating the thick grime.

In an instant, the boy was on his feet. He scooped up the youngest child and hauled Scarlet to her feet by the arm. He shoved their brother into her arms and pushed her along. “Scarlet listen to me very carefully. Take Bennett and hide. I’m going to find mum and Edwin. Don’t move until I come back!”

Meanwhile, she rambled over him. “What was that? Warren? Was it the pyrates? Are they coming for me? You were just teasing about that, right? Warren? You were teasing, right?”

Urgency welled in Warren in time with the growing din outside and he shoved Scarlet into the cellar, slamming the door closed between them.

The air was eerily quiet once Warren was gone. There was nothing but the muffled sound of cannonfire in the distant outside world to ring through Scarlet’s mind as she stood frozen, staring blankly at the door with Bennett in her arms. She only made her descent down the stairs when Bennett wriggled with restlessness.

There was a single, small window in the cellar, which Scarlet placed Bennett down by before dragging a stool over. The eleven year old girl scrambled upon it and peeked out the window, her pale blue eyes widening at the sights beyond. Houses ablaze, her neighbors running down the streets, trails of fire and shrapnel strewn like tails of comets in a sky completely void of stars.

Shifting on her tiptoes, Scarlet tipped the stool and it tipped, sending her along with itself clattering to the ground. With a sharp outcry, Scarlet landed on the floor, striking the back of her head on the wall hard enough to make her ears ring. Head slumped and face shrouded by her crimson curls, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in the blue fabric of her dress. It was then that she began to shake with sobs in response to both the overwhelming pain and fear.

Moments later there was an explosion that rattled the house, sending a spray of broken glass flying at a dangerous velocity to the floor. Scarlet felt the shards rain upon her back and hair and curled up tighter. Her muffled whimpering was hardly audible, much unlike the sound of horror that now flowed freely into the cellar.

She could not have been sure how long she had remained curled up, simply listening until she remembered that she was not alone. Her brother had been unusually quiet, the knowledge of his existence being overpowered by the fear of an eleven year old girl. Hesitantly, Scarlet lifted her reddened face from her knees and looked over, furiously blinking away the tears that blurred her vision in an attempt to make sense of what she saw. “Bennett?”

The child’s figure did not move at the sound of his name and Scarlet’s blood ran cold. Frantically wiping her eyes with her sleeves, she shifted to her hands and knees and crawled over to him. “Bennett!” She froze, rigid when her hands touched a sticky puddle she was certain had not been there before. Lifting her shaking hand, she nearly choked upon examining it. Scarlet continued towards him frantically, her dress scattering large shards of broken glass across the floor.

When Scarlet touched the hand of her brother, it was colder than what was normal. Her heart skipped a beat, rising to her throat as she froze in shock. Slowly, she shifted to her knees and pulled the limp figure onto her lap. It took mere moments for her to break down and hold his body close to hers, doubled over in grief and wailing desperately, but she was met only with the dread-inducing sound of a pillage through a broken window.

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[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

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two days off the coast of spain. may 8, 1707

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“Stowaway!”

The voice rang clearly, piercing the violet dusk that hovered peacefully above the sea. The silhouette of a ship rocked gently on the waves, the last of the dying sunlight enough to set the crimson sails ablaze. The ship Obsidian could be identified by any seafarer for this trait alone, as few who had gotten close enough to the scarred and bloodstained exterior had lived to tell the tale.

One little word. That is all it took to for a single drifting gaze to become dangerously narrowed in an instant, twisted rage replacing the serenity that had reflected in them mere moments before.

What rat could possibly be so simultaneously clever and dull as to sneak into the menacing vessel? Nevertheless, the eyes that belonged to the ship’s captain watched from the helm with violent disbelief as two crew members drug a stumbling figure from below deck.

“A stowaway?” The hushed musing escaped a tall man that stood straight and proper beside the captain, brows pinched in confusion over his dark eyes.

Both of their attention was captured by the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs, a scraggly man approaching them with all haste. His thin black hair was pulled back haphazardly and whether his skin was dark with heritage or grime, no one could be sure. He gripped a deck of cards in his twitching hands as he looked between the captain and first mate, sucking in air through what yellowed teeth he had left as he prepared to speak. “Cap’n,” he said urgently. “I must ask ya t’ be careful with this ‘un- he’s what me deck’s been tryin’ t’ say, I’m sure of it.” When he was met only with expectant gazes, he looked down at his cards and shuffled through them, all the while muttering madly under his breath until he found the card he sought. He held the thing out to the captain, who snatched it and examined the artwork that received more care than it’s owner. “The Devil, cap’n,” the man hissed, peering at the face of the card. “Tricky bastards, they are. I suggest treatin’ ‘im as nothin’ less than a demon.”

With an impatient grunt, the captain shoved the cart against the scrawny man’s chest, causing him to stumble before taking it and placing it exactly where it had been before. “I’ll treat him however I see fit,” the captain snapped harshly. “I won’t be lettin’ a damned deck of cards run my ship. Take the wheel,” the gruff voice commanded suddenly, and the man scrambled to obey. “Keep on course.”

With a wave to the first mate, two pairs of boots descended the stairs. “Thorton,” the captain murmured, words slow and void of patience. “Which was the imbecile on watch last time we made port?”

“Anderson, Captain,” Thorton answered without hesitation.
Quick as a flash, a pistol was freed from it’s holster, a deafening bang ringing through the salty sea air, one specific man collapsing to the deck in the same instant. The ghostly hands that wrapped around the ivory grip replaced the weapon at a leisurely pace, anticipating a protest that never came. “I don’t expect this mistake will be made again.” The captain’s voice rang clear and true over the deck and was met with a chorus of “Aye, captain”’s, followed by an irritated hiss. “Waste of bullets.”

As the body of the late Charles Anderson was lobbed overboard, two figures continued to approach their newfound problem with wide strides. Meanwhile, the two men that held fast the stowaway lumbered forward to meet their captain. One was broad with a stocky build and without a single strand of hair on head or face, a single blind eye surrounded by gruesome scars. The other was dark skinned and well muscled, fabric wrapped tightly around his head and a tiny golden hoop dangling from each ear. Either man could have easily floored the lanky figure between them with not much more than a flick.

The intruder was infuriatingly silent- not a single plea or whimper escaped him and not a single shred of struggle. His head hung low, dark blonde hair shrouding his face, though under his far from ragged tunic, his heart mercilessly pounded against his ribcage.

“Caught ‘im sneakin ‘round below, cap’n,” the blinded man said in a gruff tone.

The captain grew in frustration at the man’s lack of reaction, normally reveling in the pathetic behavior displayed by men touched by fear. “How dare ye do anything less than beg fer yer life, swine.” The hissed remark was followed up by a pale hand flying towards the slumped figure, gripping a handful of the fairly long hair as means to yank his head up.

The captain was among the more surprised of the two, being met with the face of a young man who had obviously not known conflict to the degree of that which plagued the Obsidian. Not a single blemish touched the tanned skin on his sharply featured face, the scruff along his jawline only just older than the amount of time he’d spend on the ship. The one flaw was ever so slight evidence of a previous break on the otherwise straight bridge of his nose, brown eyes burning with an intensity that would so foolishly challenge death- and he might as well have been.

A cold laugh split the air as the captain met his eye, tossing his head aside with a mixture of disinterest and disgust. Looking off to the side, the blanched hand that had inflicted countless deaths unsheathed a jewel encrusted cutlass, pressing the end of it under the man’s chin as to keep his head from drooping further. “I’ll give ye one chance to give me a damn good reason why yer on me ship or I’ll run me steel through yer thick skull.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line against his quickening breath, the man struggled to look up against the point of the blade, feeling the grips on his arms tightening. When he found himself staring into the face of death itself, he briefly wondered what had possessed him to end up in such a situation. Though, having no time to contemplate such things, he shoved the thought away and shifted on his feet, careful not to move in such a way that would pierce the flesh of his neck. Though he struggled, words would not come to him.

He had come all this way, only to lose his head at the point of Captain Scarlet Waters’s sword.

Blood red lips curled in a snarl as heavily lined pale blue eyes rapidly drained of patience. “Yer nothin’ more than a coward,” the raspy voice spat, japping the sword upward just enough to toy with her prey.

The man drew a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut, Italian words suddenly spilling from his mouth. “Attendere! Ho qualcosa che vuoi!”

There was a pause before another bout of laughter escaped the woman, the red plume of a feather that draped over the edge of her wide-brimmed hat trembling. “Oi, boys!” She called. “We’ve caught ourselves a dago!”

There was an uproar of laughter and the man hissed a cursed his nervous tongue under his breath before shouting over the flurry of voices. “I possess something you seek!”

The captain’s laughter came to an abrupt halt, though a sneer still twitched at the corners of her mouth. “What was that?” She asked, not having understood his thickly accented words over the din that was now ebbing.

“I have something,” the man repeated bitterly, looking down his nose to meet her gaze. “Something I believe you have been searching for.”

The words piqued her interest, the woman shifting her feet and raising a red brow. “What would that be?” She hissed threateningly, though the pressure of her blade decreased just slightly.

He dared relax just enough that his voice no longer sounded strained. “Three Tickett stones,” he said in a low tone. “And means of deciphering them.”

Scarlet grew rigid, eyes widening as they searched his for a trace of lies that simply weren’t there. With no more than a flick of her wrist, the men on either side of him released their grip. “Go!” She snapped when they only stood there, leaving the both of them to hastily shuffle off. Sword still at his throat, she stepped closer to the man, having to crane her head back to see him past the brim of her hat once he straightened up. “Show me the stones,” she demanded viciously.

“Lower your weapon,” the man countered, however, his bold request was only met with further pressure and he drew a sharp breath.

“Remember what ship yer on, rat” Scarlet spat, lips curled in a snarl, her voice rising with her growing rage. “Show me the stones!”

Glaring at her through a veil of hair, the man thrust a hand into the pocket of his faded jacket and pulled out a fist before holding it out and revealing three small stones. They were aged but smooth and engraved with strange markings.

In a flash, Scarlet swiped them from his gloved hand and lowered her sword, turning and hastily walking a few strides away before stopping and examining the little things. With a movement just as quick, she whipped back around, the countless beads in her wild fiery curls clacking together. Arm fully extended, the tip of her blade pressed against the intruder’s chest, stones clenched tightly in her fist. “What deciphers them?” She demanded impatiently.

The man resisted taking a step back, but instead forced a nonchalant shrug. “I do,” he said simply.



The blade faltered with Scarlet’s expression. The bastard may have been a bloody fool, but he was undoubtedly clever. Killing him would mean having no way of reading the stones- a twist that ensured him his life. However, that didn’t mean she had to ensure that he enjoyed life upon her ship.

Composure washing over her demeanor, Scarlet lowered her sword and took a few steps back until she stood beside her first mate. “I don’t want him near me ropes,” she said sharply, exchanging a knowing glance with the tall man before walking back towards the helm.

Straightening up after the captain left his side, Thorton folded his hands behind his back and eyed the confused looking stowaway before calling out, “Benny!”

It took mere moments for a boy no older than seventeen to scramble from below deck. As he climbed the stairs, he looked around with wide golden brown eyes until he met those of the first mate and hurriedly approached, ruffling his short mousy brown hair in a way that sent plumes of dust flying from it. “Aye?” He asked casually, freckled face turning between Thorton and the stowaway with nervous curiosity.

Thorton looked down at the boy and murmured instructions to him. “You’re in charge of keeping this one in line and making sure he earns his keep.” He paused to eye the blonde man, looking him up and down with the slightest wrinkle of his nose. “And don’t let him touch the ropes.”

“Aye, sir,” Benny agreed with a nod. His way of speaking was much looser and careless than the refined British accent of the dark haired first mate. Once Thorton turned to make his way back up to the helm. When the man was halfway across the deck, Benny turned to scramble back down the stairs before popping back up for just a moment, looking to the new arrival. “You comin’ er what?”

With a start, the foreign man gave the helm one last glance before following the boy, acutely aware of the pale blue gaze boring into him all the while.

The lighting below deck was a harsh transition from the twilight sky that lit what was above. Lanterns hung from hooks along the ceiling and the taller man learned quickly to duck. He struggled to keep up with the sure-footed boy, briefly losing him around a few corners. At that particular moment, he hadn’t the foggiest idea as to what was going on, but compared to everyone else he’d run into that day, the thin boy ahead of him hardly seemed like a threat. If he was told to trail Benny while the captain contemplated his fate, he wouldn’t argue.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Benny called casually over his shoulder, “but I’ll be savin’ the tour for t’marra. Been up since b’fore dawn- I’m sure you understand.” Then, suddenly, in the middle of the hallway, the boy stopped and turned to face the older man with a quizzical expression. “You got a name?”

The man screeched to a halt and faced the boy with a raised brow. What kind of question was that? “Ah- sì,” he replied with a nod, then touched a hand to his chest with a small smirk. “My name is Vincenzo Giovanni Fieri Lorenzo Silventore Alessius Vespasian Esposito di Tuscana.”

He was met with a blank expression and a long stretch of silence as Benny simply stared at him. “You… Got a shorter name?” He asked carefully.

He pursed his lips and bit back a sigh before nodding. “Uh- Vin,” he answered.

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “I’m Benjamin Huckins,” he said, wiping his hand on his shirt before holding it out. “But Benny’s good.”

Hesitantly, Vin shook his hand in greeting. Then, as soon as he had turned around, Benny was once again rushing in the other direction and Vin scrambled to catch up. “Hurry up now- If no ‘un catches us sneakin’ away, we might get a full five hours of sleep!”

After weaving through the passageways and descending another level or two whilst avoiding being noticed by any other crew member, Vin discovered that Benny did not sleep in the cabin with the rest of the crew, but rather in one of many haystacks surrounded by barrels and crates.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the rats,” Benny said after so generously giving Vin his pick of haystacks. “If they nibble your arm, it just means they like ya.”

As dread and possibly a bit of bile rose in Vin’s throat, he wondered for the umpteenth time that week what he had gotten himself into.



Firelight danced across the deck as the last of the sun was replaced by shuddering lanterns. Despite the rustic exterior and echoes of chaos that forever lingered, the Obsidian never failed to feel peaceful once night fell. A looming, threatening shadow, but peaceful. None felt this to be truer than the vessel’s captain, but peace of mind was far out of reach that night.

A gentle breeze swept across the helm, slicing the tension that lingered from earlier events. It seemed rattling as cannonfire when the first mate finally spoke.

“Perhaps we ought to be more mindful of Ramos’s warning,” he said flatly.

The captain merely scoffed in response. “Don’t tell me ye’ve started believin’ what a deck of cards has to say.”

Thorton looked to her and narrowed his dark eyes slightly, shadows cast across his long face. “He’s already tricked us once,” he said in a low, stern tone. “Tricked his way onto a ship no sane man would even look upon for a second too long.”

“He’s nothin,” Scarlet spat, her grip on the wheel tightening. “He’s nothin’ but foolishly bold; not one trace of experience- a boy!” She argued. “Wise men hold fear in their eyes when confronted with death.”

“Then how do you explain the stones?” Thorton countered with a hiss, leaning slightly closer. “Fools do not simply stumble across knowledge of Tickett’s hallows, let alone three stones.”

“Dumb luck,” she answered simply. “He must’ve been in the wrong place at the right time.”

Thorton raised his brows and straightened up, folding his hands behind his back. “And I suppose he learned to read them by chance as well,” he pointed out coolly.

“That could very well have been a ploy to save his own skin,” Scarlet retorted through clenched teeth.

“And if he speaks the truth?”

A long sigh escaped the captain’s nose as she watched the red sails struggle lazily against their bonds. “Then this is the beginning of our story, Thorton,” she stated slowly. “This is where it finally starts.”

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[Woogwoo Wren]

Sheesh. Scarlet really does get a bit nicer after meeting Vin. XD.
Yay, first post.

[ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s]

Oh no, don't worry
I just toned it down a bit.
It occurred to me that he would NOT be as bold as he was in the first draft.
When I wrote the first chapter on the last one, in my head he had way more life experience.
And since he's not nearly as sassy this time around, she doesn't have reason to blow up as much x]
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Just felt like I should explain lol

[Woogwoo Wren]

Fair enough. XD.