Tired Of Death

"Very well then," she said, formalities out of the way. "What do you need that your beast can't help you get?"

"I be after an old enemy captain of mine," said the short form. "They be holding me hands, wickedly taken from me due to a slight misunderstanding, arr."

"I don't mean to be pessimistic," said Tybalt, "but if this person's chopped your hands off, they're probably not going to be much good by now."

"I could always use a spare hand," said Cuthbert. "What?" he asked as everyone looked at him. "They wear out quickly, hands do."

"Oh, no, they be of use still," the diminutive pirate scowled, waving his sword around and nearly chopping Sprats head off. "Old Captain Blue 'Hands' Crazybeard keeps 'em for pets. Has a dozen o' them does Blue, all crawlin' around in boxes they be. Fair creeps a dwarf out it does."

Dreth sheathed Darkblood, leaned against the railing and tried, unsuccessfully, to knock the little devil into the sea. He scowled and scratched at his re-growing arm. "And where be, I mean... where is this pirate now then? And why don't you get your monster to deal with their ship?" He waved out at the sea.

"'Aint be that easy pale man," Hooks said, sheathing his own sword. "Me beasty 'aint so subtle. It's all or nothing yer see? Asides, Blue has something that'll keep it away. A canny pirate Blue be."

"Where can we find this Captain Blue person?" asked Emerald. 

"Where all the pirates be found woman," said Redbeard, looking at her. "Pirate Island of course."

"Of course, where else?" sighed Tybalt. He turned to Hooks. "You'd better give me a bearing then," he said.

"Ay! Be easy. Steer due east matey."

"Aye aye," said Tybalt wearily. 

The schooner slowly turned, sails billowing in the wind, and ploughed its way through the sea, towards Pirate Island.

~ * ~

On the shore of the Sparklyblue sea was a seagull. It had had a good day. There had been a surfeit of fish to feed on earlier, for some reason, so it was taking the chance to perch on a boulder and have a bit of a rest. 

The beach the boulder was on, with the bird atop it, was definitely well into the 'barren' and 'windswept' range. Apart from the odd rock scattered about, and a few scraggly plants further back, waving in the wind, there was nothing of interest to catch the eye. Except possibly the wreck of an old longboat, rotting a little way offshore. Inside were a dozen skeletons, remains of the crew, who had fallen foul of some mysterious end. The gull had long since explored the wreck and had come to the conclusion there was nothing to warrant its further attention. 

Something new caught the birds' eye, and it c.o.c.ked its head, beholding an unusual sight. A tall man in dark robes, a long staff in hand, was walking down onto the beach. He appeared to have forgotten his shoes, and hence was complaining quite a lot about how his red and white socks were getting dirty, and now, wet. Occasionally he'd step on a sharp stone and jump and curse a bit. 

Finally he stopped and stood still, looking out at the sea and the wrecked boat in particular. After a moment's consideration, he scratched his behind and raised his hands. Strange sounds reached the gulls' ears, disturbing even to the seabird. 

Nothing seemed to happen at first, and the gull quickly lost interest as the man sat on a rock, not dissimilar to the birds' own, and inspected his much abused socks. 

There was a movement, and something stirred in the longboat. First one, then another skeleton began to move, standing up and gazing around with empty eye sockets like they were looking for something. They spotted the man, still sitting on his stone, and jumped nimbly over the side, wading through the surf onto the shore like holidaymakers terminally overdue on their boat rental. 

The newly awakened sailors, about ten of them in all, traipsed up the beach, totally ignoring the sharp stones, and stopped in a line facing the socks man, who was still sitting, waiting patiently.

Finally he climbed carefully onto his rock and spoke to the newly undead, who listened intently. 

At this point the gull, bored of all this non-fish related activity, decided it had seen enough, and flew away. This was a shame really, as things were just beginning to get interesting.

~ * ~

Dreth stood on the foredeck, near the pointy bit at the front, peering into the evening gloom. The little devil was sitting on a pile of rope nearby, plucking the eyes out of a fish it'd found somewhere. 

"So, happy now?" asked Dreth. "You managed to thwart my plan back at Real well enough."

The devil smiled and threw the mangled fish away. "Meh, all in days work."

"What do you get out of all this exactly?" asked Dreth.

It shrugged. "I get to get out of hell for a while, see the world and all that. And torment people of course."

"How about you tell me your name, and then I order you to go and torment someone else? I can probably think of someone much more interesting than me to hang about with."

"I don't think so," it replied. "And I'm rather enjoying this voyage." It gestured around at the ship. "Ah, here's our new pirate friend, come to bedazzle us with more colourful language no doubt."

"Avast up there!" shouted Hooks.

"See?" 

Dreth ignored the devil. "Are we there yet?" he said to the dwarf.

"We be close!" the pirate said, stumping up the stairs to stand by Dreth. "But we best have a plan. They be right unfriendly to strangers on Pirate Island."

"Surely you have lots of friends there?" asked the devil. 

"Aye, you'd think so wouldn't ye? The fact o' the matter is, old Captain Blue and me, we didn't part on the best terms."

"So we avoid this Crazybeard's crew," said Dreth. "How hard could it be? It's only one pirate, right?"

"Arr. That not be so easy me lad," Hooks said. "On account old of old Blue be the leader of the pirates yer see. I won't be welcome back with open arms. And if we sails much further as we are, someone will spot us and come a looking. They don't like uninvited guests they don't, and us pirates all knows each other we do."

"Why don't you just send your monster and smash any boat that gets in our way?" suggested Dreth.

"Not so easy lad. The island's in shallow waters. Me old friend can't come much closer than we are now. And I told yer, old Blue's got a defence"

"Why can't anything be easy for a change?" Dreth said. "So, what do you suggest then?"

"Arr," said Hooks. "I be working on a plan. Lend me yer ear landlubber, and see what yer think."

"Go on," said Dreth, leaning forward. "I'm listening."

"Well," replied the pirate, "No one gets ter Pirate island alive yer see."

"So you've implied."

"The solution be obvious then. Death!"

"That's a plan is it?" asked the devil. "I've farted smarter than that."

"Quiet you," said Dreth, swiping at it ineffectually. "Still," he looked at the dwarf. "It seems a bit counter productive, killing yourself to get your hands back."

"I don't mean kill fer real yer barnacle!" Hooks waved his hooks about. "I means yer get yer wizard to cast a spell. Yerself and yer zombie friends already look the part, beggin' yer pardon an' all. Pirates be a superstitious lot. They won't look dead bodies over real close, on account they be afeared the ghosts will seek 'em out."

"We'd have to take a smaller boat, they'd steal the ship if we sailed it in," said Dreth, tapping his chin. 

"You're seriously considering this?" asked the devil, hopping onto the pirates' head and ignoring the dwarfs' attempts to remove him. 

"What's wrong devil? I thought you wanted to see the world?" 

"But if you die I'll go back to hell," it said. 

"I don't know," said Dreth. "It sounds like fun, and I haven't killed anything in a while. My sword's getting itchy."

"Then we be agreed," said Hooks. 

Dreth looked at the wizard, who was still hanging over the side. "If we can get Frumble to stop throwing up long enough to cast the spell that is," he said.

~ * ~

"Why we be having to patrol here?" grumbled Dirty Gary. "I wants to be swillin' me grog." He kicked the sand with his stump, tired and fed up with this pointless activity.

"Aye! I'm with yer matey, to be sure." Ropeburn Ron answered with a scowl. "'Aint no reason to be out here on this blighted day, arrr."

"We are here, as you know full well, because we are all without current berths." The third voice was, in direct contrast to the other two, cultured and refined. 

Gary and Ron turned and looked at their companion, who was walking along the beach with one hand behind his back, apparently enjoying the stroll. 

"I told yer not to be speaking like that," said Gary with a frown. 

"Aye! Speak like a real pirate! Yer fair gives me the willies yer do," Ron agreed.

The three were patrolling a cold and barren beach. Black craggy rocks towered over them on the inland side, whilst white breakers foamed up the sand on the other, complete with the roaring sound the sea is famous for. Gulls squawked noisily overhead, floating on the strong breeze blowing in from the sea.