--||Secuestrado||-- [Literate Pirate RP--Not Accepting]

[.:dragonfly:.]

ChArLiE

•So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways
All my underdogs, we will never be, never be
Anything but loud
And nitty gritty dirty little freaks •

Charlie's dark brown eyes looked out at the sea. The morning sun still low in the sky. One of the pirates hands rested on the ships railing the other was already around a bottle of rum. He took a swing of the drink dispite the fact that he had just woken up a little while ago; he liked to mantain that 'almost drunk but not quite' buzz all the time. Running one hand though his shaggy mess of dark hair in a poor attempt of fixing it he turned away from the sea and started to walk across the ship to where some of the other crew was with their recently aquired capitives.

Sure Charlie wasn't to sure why the captin had them go out and take some fine looking young girls but Charlie was definatly not one to question such a order, the young man had no problem with having some good looking woman running around the ship. Charlie was a rather handson teen with his tan skin fine features and charming personality, if one could get pass the fact that he was a unclean, alcholic, foul mouthed pirate he was not that repulsive at all. At the moment he was dressed in worn clothing typical of pirates, his long dark brown hair was astray not tied up in his usual pony tail. Weapons hung from his waist, a menicing sword and pistol.

After crossing the large ship he finally arrived at the group. Charlie looked over the group of girls; he was happy to see that Bentaly had them un-blindfolded, Charlie got this odd fasination out of seeing the emotion in there eyes weater it be fear or anger. He walked over to greet the other crew mates his trademark smug smile across his face as he nodded in greeting to Sketch, Sholto, and Bentaly. Sketch looked mildly pissed off, Sholto was drunk nothing new there and his captin was alittle hard to read but seemed content. Bring his attention back to the captives he watched the curiously but suprisingly didn't say anything, saving his sarcastic comments for later.

[[Derrr, fail post. I have writers block but wanted to post before I forgot. It was also typed out on my ipod. Forgive meh? -Facepalm-]]

[Smamm]

((-saves Dragonfly from facepalm- Noes, your post it fine! |3 Dun be sorry! ALSO, VERY IMPORTANT! (to me) I had the wrong outfit on Bent, sorry guys! Look at it now! You can look HERE! Sorry. That was what I meant to put up. |3 Sorry for the anime... |/ -facepalms-))

[ossa di cervo]

((Lawl, I love how everyone shrugs off Sholto's being drunk. xD It's great.))

[Citael]

Marcello Leonardo

{{The Dungeon Mistress, It's fine to say that, that gives me something to work off of! }}

Marcello leaned against one of the walls on the ships, a small cigarette in his mouth, a pirate hat over his head. Marcello's hat had a few bullet holes through out it. He licked his lips lightly, tasting the salty spray upon his skin. His arms were crossed, his legs crossed calmly, and his face towards the ground. He was resting quietly, his brown eyes closed. He heard the calming sound of the crashing waves against the ship, and the salty water spraying on him lightly. The sails billowed in the strong breeze. He lifted his head, and opened his eyes, before he pushed of the wall, and put his arms behind his head. He was curious. Why did Bentley even want these donnas. He had collected one himself, one from a tavern. He smiled lightly at how he had collected her with ease. Such a simple task, stealing the willing. Ah, he could remember it perfectly.

Marc had walked into the Tavern, to find a girl to take. Simple. He had worn his normal clothes, his simple pirates hat and coat, along with all the other stuff. He had sat down, and asked for a drink. It was a smoky place, filled with drunks and wanna be pirates. He didn't like Taverns, to smoky and a whole bunch of troie. He had gotten a drink, a simple cup of ale, and soon, he had company. The hunt had began. A girl waltzed over, tempting others, with a short blue dress. His dark eyes flicked towards her, his handsome Italian face turned slightly. She had introduced herself, said her name was Katryana. He told her to calm her simply Ry. She had ordered a few drinks for him, and he gladly accepted, but he had poured some on the ground, so he wouldn't get drunk. Even if he had drunken all those cups, he still wouldn't have gotten get drunk. He flirted with her lightly, trying to get the little girl to like him, want to come to the so called "Freedom of the Sea." Ha.

Marcello had finally sprung the final trap. Asking her to join them. He had simply asked, yet she seemed so amazed. She even seemed to try to convince him not to take her. He chuckled lightly at this, and gave a light, charming smile. He then heard another comment, and he blinked with surprise. He pinched himself, and simply said, "I'm pretty sure I am alive, Cara." He told her that people were curious about her, wanting her to join their crew. They had been watching this girl for awhile. Marc watched as she almost chocked, and he blinked in surprise once more, before sliding a bit of ale over to her, basically telling her to drink. She wanted to leave the puttana casa, and with a simple smirk, he took her. It was a simple task, stealing this willing girl who wanted to get away from the smoky taverns and ugly drunk men. Of course she did, he was rare. He was Italian, a rare male to a dirty tavern like that, a rare beauty.

Marcello smirked at how he stole her. He blinked to himself, as he heard the order to take of the girl's blindfolds. Katryana's was already able to see, and when she came into sight, he simply waved. He then approached the other girls, and began unfolding the others blindfolds. It was a simple job for the gunner. Was he did his fair share of releasing the holds of the blindfolds, he stepped back, Damon needed to do his share too. He soon saw Sholto, who was drunk out of his freaking mind. Marcello chuckled, and waltzed close by to the drunk pirate. "Bit drunk, Sholto?"

Words:631
Clothing:
Coat and Shirt
Pants and Boots
First Gun
Second Gun
Sword
Hat
Earrings

[Harpy•]

Dαмσи Jɛƨƨ Fιℓтιαяи

◘•Some will l e a r n,•◘
◘•Many d o,•◘
◘•Cover up;•◘
◘•Or spread it o u t•◘

Damon chewed only slightly at his lower lip as he walked out into the bright sunlight shining on the deck, the smallest hint of nervousness clawing at the depths of his stomach. Some of the girls Bently had decided to take were not nobodies...they were, in fact, from Aristocratic families, ones in cahoots with royalty, and for all Damon knew, from royalty itself...though the gunner suspected that Bentley wasn't so foolish as to kidnap a royal girl. The entire navy would be chasing after their ship, and that wouldn't turn out in favor of the pirates.

Damon's mind wandered to the night before as he nodded at the captain's order to remove the blindfolds, following after Marcello and working on the opposite side. He had been assigned to a girl named Ezra, a red-headed girl. He couldn't remember most of what had happened due to a bit of excessive drinking afterwards, but he knew it was successful due to the red hair he was uncovering at this moment. He showed no recognition to the face he revealed, instead moving on directly to the next girl, and from that one to the next, his face hard and expressionless, enunciating the darkness of his eyes and the chiseled angles of his jaw. Once he finished uncovering the faces of the girls, all of them attractive and naggingly innocent, he stepped back to the opposite side, away from Bently, Sholto, and Marcello. His eyes flickered up towards Sholto, and Marcello's quiery towards him. The question was obviously rhetoric and meant to be sarcastic, due to the fact that the cook was having trouble even standing up straight.

Unamused at the moment, Damon's eyes moved back to the girls, watching their faces and potential reactions with a tense frame. No doubt there'd be shock, anger, fear, and anything else imaginable. It would be difficult to not go hysterical in a situation like this...the initial reactions to Bently and the crew would determine just how strong these girls really were.

His hands were loosely crossed behind his lowerback, much like a soldier at ease in a line-up. He didn't really know why he stood this way...it seemed comfortable and an easy posture to move into.

After studying the girls for a few more moments, his eyes moved up to Bently, awaiting his words and/or command, prepared for nearly anything at this point.

◘•Words: 397{So Short! Dx}•◘
◘•Comments: It's short and retarded. T.T•◘
◘•Clothing: Here is his entire basic outfit, but without the hair.•◘

[SnowFlies]

Nora Bel

I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way

This must have been the first fun she had had in ages, especially after travelling alone for the past year or two. “Com’ on Nora! Give it your best shot!” Nora was enjoying herself due to the buzz of alcohol that was thriving through her, although she drank small amounts on rare occasions, this night she had already brought a fourth bottle to her lips and had no memory on how she got here.

She began shaking her head, a smile of the sorts playing on her lips as she removed the bottle away from her mouth. “Non, I couldn't. I’ll end up hitting someone.” “Aww, com’ on Nora, just a throw, how much ‘arm could that cause?” Well the guy speaking got that right, how much ‘arm could she cause? And as if to make her decision clear, the whole bar was chanting her name. “All right, all right!” The small teen forced herself to stand only to topple backwards, falling to the floor, a chorus of laughter filling the room one of which being her own. Glad she had invested in clothing that wasn’t a dress but something more moveable in.

And then someone offered her a hand and she took it, standing up swaying on her own feet they steadied her, “merci” and thanked the person who had helped her up in her native tongue. “Right then, give me the knife!” As the knife was being given to her, bets were called out on whether she would miss or hit the target. The majority thought she was going to miss, including herself. Having downed three bottles and a half, being unable to stand without falling and having never thrown knifes before, there was an extremely small chance Nora was going to actually hit the target.

“Just throw the knife girl!” She turned looking at the man who had spoken, putting the blade of the knife to her lips telling him to shut up silently yet politely. She then turned suddenly, the knife leaving her hand and hearing a satisfactory thump as the knife hit the wooden wall, Nora smiled picking up her half filled bottle and bringing it to her lips again but not drinking yet. The Knife was dead on centre. “Eh, la chance du debutant.” Nora merely stated before tilting the bottle back and finishing its contents.

As the night had been young when Nora had entered the bar, she left the place later than she had expected. She had only managed to stumble across coble streets before collapsing to the ground of a field near the sea, where Nora laid there staring at the stars that had been sprinkled above her while smelling the salty air.

And then stars vanished. The sky looked empty without the shining dots. It was only when she felt a set of hands picking her up did Nora realise someone had forced a blind fold upon her, which was why the stars had gone. “Let go of me! Put me down!” The French girl helplessly tried to struggle free, kicking and hammering her fists against her kidnapper, but her attempts were weak due to override of alcohol. This quickly ended after small hiccups left the girl, and Nora realised her acts to escape were pointless as being drunk would get her no where. “Je suis désolé.” She murmured in defeat for kicking and hitting him, even if her kidnapper couldn’t understand her native language it was an automatic thing for her to say.

It wasn’t long before she felt the ground under feet, bobbing up and down, making her regret the four or more bottles of alcohol she had. The one night she went over the top, she was kidnapped. Not to mention that she was supposed to be selling a majority of her maps to the Aristocrats this day. . . Nora was clueless of how long she was going to be standing; with ropes digging into her arms that a sharp movement could cause rope burn. How desperate were these people?

It turned out these “people” were pirates, Nora discovered this as well as the cause of the bobbing floor when the blindfold on her was removed. A ship. The ocean. Water. Despite being the smallest she wasn’t that scared of the pirates, but terrified of the water surrounding their vessel. The girl kept her head down, staring and what she knew was called the deck avoiding the number of eyes that could be looking at her as well as the ocean. If it wasn't for the water, the French girl would be struggling to free herself from these ropes. But having had glanced around and seeing few pirates Nora gathered that this probably why seven girls had been tied to the mast. Her question was answered. These pirates were desperate.

Words - 795
- Shirt
- Pants & Boots

(( Hope this is all right with you Popcorns :3 If not I'm totally happy to edit))

[Popcorns]

Emiliano Rowena

Emiliano stood with the Captin up on the quater deck. His chesnut eyes flickerd over the water that lapped at the ship's side. The Chiquillos was a large girl, one that would stand easily agaisnt the native's smaller boats once the crew reached deeper waters. Untill then, they were slightly at a disadvantdge, but they would surely win if the cowards came close enough for an attack to try and claim the captive girls.
In Emilio's mind, is was a big waste. Yeah the ship was low on crew members, but to go so far and capture women to do men's work? He supressed a grunt as his eyes trailed over the women bounded to the ship's masts. They should just hold them for ransom to get enough money to hire men. Bently normaly wasn't wrong in the Co-captin's mind, but this time he doubted his judgement. The Captin's order was law though on the Chiquillos. Emilio wanted to suggest just to hold the girls for fifty talents(a form of currency). The idea was squashed through when Bently shared a look with him, one that Emiliano could easily see that he wasn't really troubled at all at giving the women a chance. It was decided, Emilio would talk to Captin later about his thoughts on the situation.
His feet pulled him towards the wheel once Captin utter the word for a switch. Now things would get down to business. There was three wheels to steer the ship; a large one in the middle with two medium sized ones on the outside of the lagre wheel. The Italian's hand rested on the worn wood as his eyes flickered from the sea to the action on the Main deck like a hungry fire. Even though Emiliano wasn't fond of the idea of women on the ship, it better be worht it of the days he had to spend in his cabin while the Boatswains, Gunners, and the QuaterMaster fetched the girls from their homes. It had taken days of lying low before they set off with their catch. He was just thankful he wasn't given the task of dealing with one of them so far as he sure would have slipped up when taking the girl back to the Chiquillos. He wasn't practicularly fond of women, finding the ones that stepped out of their desing work and thinking that doing what men did as an adventure. It was because of the women men risked their lives everyday. Part of the reason he left Rome for the crew was because he could stand to watch his mother mope around while saying things how she would go off to France to get her precious love. Her thoughts were so clouded that Emilio was in charge of making sure food was on the table for his mother and himself. It always angered him when she didn't even say thank you.
Realizing his grip had tightened on the wooden spokes of the first and third wheel, Emilio let out a slow breath and relaxed his hands- it would do him no good to crash under his anger. Fixng the ship's corse so that it was basicly just straight sailing, Emilio turned his eyes down to the girls- trying to see what their past lives were and how much trouble they would cause the crew. One girl was dressed in almost all blue. A lavish outfit that would be like for only special occasions. A small snort came from the Co-captin only though he could only hear it.
"Bene, questo dovrebbe essere divertente." Emilio muttered the Italian words in a bored voice. The complaining would begin mostlikly. His eyes continued to waver from the crew circling around the mast and the ocean. Sholto appeard on deck with a drucken swagger which made Emilio give a soft smirk. The First Mate had his share of drinks with the cook and often ended up the same. He liked the cook, he was fun to be around.

Word:668
Clothes:clickeh

((That's fine Time, gives me soemthing to start off with))
Nicholas Lismore

The girl was drunk. He had only arrived when she was on her second bottel, but she was now quickly on her fourth. The girl, Nora was her name, was now being pressurd by ther crowd to do something. But when she stood up, she quickly fell backwards. Nicholas was close by so he offered her a hand up before vanishing back into the crowd of people in the small tavern. In his own hand was his own drink which he quickly downed and ordered another one, this time drinking more slowly. His eyes fled after the knife that stuck to the wall, do the obbisite that the drunks wanted. The night whent on like this, the girl Nora being the main topic statment of the men around Nick. It was obviouse to the pirate that this would be a easy task of taking her to the ship. All he needed to do was wait and then take her to Bently once she was outside.

It was a long night of talking with the townsfolk and keeping an eye on his target. One man had caught him and mummered something to him about asking the gal out. Nicholas had only laughed at the thought, slightly ironic if you thought about it; he wouldn't be asking her what she wanted, just taking her. The loud noise of the other people in the bar had almost made Nicholas loose Nora when she left the building. Quicker then ever, the sly teenager slipped his way through the packed area of the tavern and rushed towards the door to only find Nora collapsing nt to far away. Searching the are for bystanders that were sober, Nicholas dashed across the stone road and fishing the blindfold out of his back pocket. Upon reaching her, Nick's nose curled up at the smell of salt and booze. The sailor hismelf was a drinker, but this girl reaked. His hands grasped her forarms after tying the blindfold around her blue eyes.

Nicholas barley understood what she was saying- which he foudn out was French- but knew enough of her tounge that she gave up. "C'est une honte qu'il doit vous être." The seventeen muttered as he hoisted the gal up, her earlier kicks and hits only now just soft stings. He ment what he said, it was a shame. He wans't sure though if it was a shame either for Bently or the girl. Probably the later one though. He wasn't sure why, it's not like that he cared about the girls that's what he knew for sure. It's just that he felt sorry for her. With his right hand grasping her hands behind her back and his left hand placed gently on her shoulder, Nicholas steered the girl towards the docks in the only light of the moon.

It was late when Nick had returned with his catch. He had just timed up Nora along with the others before stumbling down to the kitchen. His head hurt like hell and he knew Sholto had booze around the kitchen instead of with the rest of the cargo. It was a habit of Nick's that he would get almsot wasted before falling asleep. A few cups of the sweet stuff already had Nicholas stumbling a bit. He managed his way towards his sleepingquaters with the rest of the Boatswains.

When the sun seeped through the cracks of wood from the Main Deck, Nicholas was slipping on his last boot and already moving up and out of bed to the Main Deck where Bently would give the orders about the girls. He moved to go join his crewmates and gave Bently a slight questiong look. "Cap'tin sir, I know that we're in a rough spot, but why don't we just sell the girls hmm? We'd get coins to by men." Nicholas called out to the Captin. His eyes scanned over the women, guessing most them were'nt used to sailing the waters till they're dead or sold off. Once you pledged yourself to the boat, you stay with her till you die or are sold off.

Word: 685
Clothes: Clickeh

[Tatterdemalion]

Q
U
I
N
N

[I need another story] +[Something to get off my chest] + [My life gets kind of boring]
+ [Need something that i can confess...] + [Till all my sleeves are stained red] +
[From all the truth that I've said] + [Come by it honestly I swear] +

They had been in port, one of the few places that could possibly make Quinn physically ill with fear. Two weeks the captain had said, their boat immobilized by a badly torn sail. As she always did when stuck in port, Quinn kept to herself, only leaving the ship for the bare minimum. If she could go without it, Quinn certainly would. Someone would find her, someone would know, her and then it would all be over. It would be either a hanging or being returned to her father like a piece of property, Quinn was certain of that.
“An’ ah bloody well aint goin’ back for nothin’.” She mumbled, crossing her arms as she lay in her bunk. The crew seemed the exact opposite of Quinn when it came to being in port, scattering like the wind until their time was up. Though she had worked hard to earn her place amongst the pirates, this was one of those things she just would not participate in. She yawned, nestling back into her dirty old pillow. It smelt horrible, as did the rest of her bunk, and every other down there, but it was soft enough. The warmth only adding to her groggy feeling as she struggled to keep her eye lids open.
Lower and lower they sagged until wakingness mingled with sleep, Quinn having given up fighting it. At the sound of foot steps, obviously trying to be quiet, she snapped her eye lids open once again, pushing the thought of sleep far from her mind. Just another one of the crew, though even then she had no intentions of being snuck up on. Quinn did not trust any of them, not a one.
“Ya try enah'thang ah’ll blow yer ugly mug right’n off ‘o yer shoulders!” She snarled, not even bothering to sit up. Bluffing or not, she’d earned enough respect for it to be taken seriously. The footsteps continued though, still creeping towards her bunk as if her threat had never even been heard.
Worriedly, Quinn sat up, looking around until she found who it was. Not one of the crew, not one of them at all. No one she knew at all, not even vaguely. Mentally she cursed at herself for not having anything at all on her. No knife, no gun, nothing.
“Nah see ‘ere!” She growled, swinging her legs over the edge of her bunk and sliding down to the floor. “Ah dunno who ya are but ya damn well get off o’ this ship right nah!” What she would do to make him in the off chance he did not take the threat seriously Quinn was not quite sure yet, but she would certainly think of something.
Whatever it was Quinn had thought of - she could not quite remember now - had not been good enough. Once again she cursed at herself for making a mistake, a rather big one. Her head hurt from the blow it had taken; the blow that had been her undoing. Fist fights had never been her forte, even after several years aboard the ship. Previous ship... She told herself, certain she had just been shanghaied. Oddly enough, it made no difference to Quinn, just so long as she wasn't going home. As she shifted to seat herself more comfortably, she finally found that her arms had been bound to her sides, everything from a bit above the elbow feeling numb. Quinn could not help the uncomfortable moan that escaped her mouth, even if she’d like to keep her feelings quiet until she knew just who she were up against.
As the blind fold was removed she blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting to the change of light. It did nothing for her aching head, but that was trivial enough to ignore. There Quinn sat on the deck of a ship; pirate obviously by what she could see of the crew, all gawking at her in confusion. Quinn scowled, slowly looking around herself as other feminine groans and growls could be heard.
A bunch of women! Why it was so surprising she wasn't sure, though she had seen nothing of her own gender in quite sometime. “Och, captain!” She called to the man who most obviously was just that. After all her time aboard her other ship, picking out who was who had become fairly easy. Being outspoken and blind to the consequences also seemed to be an aquired habit, though she had been born with that for the most part. “Whot’cha tryin’ tae do? Run a ‘hore ‘ouse on yer ship?” It was said with an amused smirk, knowing she were stating a question that just had to be asked. They were pirates after all, what else were they planning on doing with a bunch of women?
Quinn was hardly paying attention to the drunk who had stumbled onto the deck, at least until he came closer and with the obvious intent of interacting with her. The smell of beer did nothing to phase her, if Quinn were going to be absolutely honest she rather liked the smell, just not when it came from the mouth of a drunk man now prodding his hand in her direction. The thought of snapping at the hand crossed her mind, after all she was still tied, practically defenseless. Instead she looked coyly up at him, having had plenty of practice with the thing. “Ah dunno, untie me an' lets fin'out.”


[Thought you saw me wink?] +[ No, I've been on the brink...]


[Words] + 914
[Outfit] + This
[Notes] + Hope this works! I can change anything you need. Annnd I probably butchered her accent XP
Edit! Added a reply to Sholto! Sorry for missing that. Silly me!

[Popcorns]

( Bump )

[Smamm]

((I have an idea... LETS NOT LET THIS DIE! I worked super hard on it guys! And I Effin love pirates! D8 Everyone get your intro's up, or tell me if your not gonna be roleplaying here anymore asap please! Seven charries still need their intro's!))