27-11-2003, 00:26
The Dishonorable Scum Archives
Episode Two: Dishonorable Scum of the Caribbean
Isle of Tortuga, the Caribbean
The Age of Piracy
Wednesday Evening
The Isle of Tortuga was famous for two things: pirates, and cheap taverns. Historians have speculated that these two facts are not coincidental, since pirates are known to like cheap taverns. However, the question inevitably degenerates into a heated argument, with much broken furniture and angered shouts of "Correlation does not imply causation, you fool!" But that is of little relevance to this tale.
What is relevant is the fact that, on an island known for cheap taverns, the Blind Parrot was the cheapest. It was the cheapest because is served the worst rum. Only pirates who were truly down on their luck and in search of the least expensive path to drunken oblivion would drink the swill that the Blind Parrot served.
In the interests of taste, we will not speak of the women who served the rum at the Blind Parrot, other than to say that most of them at least made an effort to wash and trim their beards daily.
In any event, our tale begins one Wednesday evening towards the end of the Age of Piracy, when an extremely strange man walked into the Blind Parrot. He was more than seven feet tall, and completely bald, with orange skin and pointed ears. He was dressed head to toe in black. His fingernails were black, and appeared to be more like claws than ordinary nails. When he smiled, he revealed a mouth full of wicked-looking pointed teeth.
Now, while the clientele of the Blind Parrot was used to peculiar characters, this one was far more peculiar than most. While the stranger appeared to be unarmed, the few men in the room who were not unconscious edged out of his way. As he looked around the room, scanning the face of each man in it, most of them decided that they had urgent business in Jamaica, and left in a hurry.
The demonic-looking man shrugged his shoulders, and approached the bartender. They looked each other over, and each of them privately thought that the other was without doubt the ugliest man on Tortuga.
Finally the tall stranger spoke. "I'm looking for the Dread Pirate Roberts," he said, in a voice that sounded like the wind blowing across a field of razor blades.
"Over there, in the corner," the bartender said, in a voice that sounded like an incredibly sexy woman whispering erotic suggestions to her lover.
The tall stranger blinked, and examined the bartender more closely. What his eyes told him was, without doubt, "ugly man", but his ears kept insisting on "sexy woman".
After a moment's consideration, he decided that it was irrelevant. He had seen stranger things, after all. "But Ishmael really ought to get a look at this man. Woman. Whatever," he thought to himself.
Then he turned his attention to the pirate in the corner. He was dressed in black from head to toe, with a mask covering his face, and had long curly black hair and a black moustache. He wore an ornate rapier on one hip. And he was lying with his head in a pool of spilled rum on the table.
"That's the Dread Pirate Roberts?" he asked, incredulous.
The bartender nodded. "That's him, all right," he (she?) said. "Well, a Dread Pirate Roberts, anyway. We get a lot of them around here."
The tall stranger shrugged. "Well, if he's the one..." he muttered, and walked over to the corner table. "Wake up," he hissed, and banged his fist on the table.
The alleged Roberts slowly raised his head from the table. "Hello", he said, in a slurred, vaguely Spanish accent. "I am the Dread Pirate Roberts. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"
"Aren't you getting your lines mixed up?" the tall stranger asked.
"Oh, right, I already killed the man who killed my father, so that cannot be you," Roberts conceded, swaying drunkenly in his seat. "It was something else, then. What was it you did that I have to kill you for?"
"You are the captain of the pirate ship Revenge, are you not?" asked the tall man.
"Right, that was it! I remember now," Roberts announced. "You stole my ship! Prepare to die!"
"No, I didn't steal your ship," the tall man replied.
Roberts then looked more closely at the man he was speaking with, making an effort to focus his eyes. He tilted his head back, and then back further, as he raised his eyes to look the stranger in the face.
"No, it was not you," Roberts finally admitted. "I would have remembered if it was you. It was some other man who stole my ship. Someone shorter, and not so orange."
"I know who it was who stole your ship," the stranger said. "He stole something that belonged to me, too."
"What? He took something from you too? What a scoundrel this fellow is! Let me at him!" Roberts shouted, rising unsteadily to his feet and drawing his sword.
"Sit down, Roberts," the tall stranger ordered. "And sober up," he continued, snapping his fingers.
Suddenly Roberts blinked, and stopped swaying. His expression slowly changed from one of drunken rage to one of hung-over pain. "Oh, my head," he moaned. "What you do to me? Who are you, anyway? And what do you want with me?"
"My name is Igor," the tall man told him. "And, seeing as how we are both after the same man, I have a proposition for you."
"You know who this dishonorable scoundrel was who stole my ship?" Roberts asked.
"He's dishonorable scum," Igor corrected. "And while he may have stolen a ship from you, he stole an entire nation from me."
"An entire nation?" Roberts repeated, sounding impressed. "You have to admit, this dishonorable man, he does not think small."
"Have you ever heard of the Rogue Nation of Dishonorable Scum?" Igor suddenly asked.
"Well, I have heard the stories, of course," Roberts said. "Who has not? It is supposed to be on an island somewhere near the Bahamas, and ruled by a man who was so vile and evil that Hell itself would not take him. But it is just a story."
"It is not just a story," Igor countered. "It is a real place. And it rightfully belongs to me. It was granted to me by Torquemada himself, the Chief Injustice of Hell. But this man, who calls himself the Unspeakable One, stole it from me and moved it out of Hell."
Roberts looked over Igor, and then nodded. "Yes, you look like you might know something about Hell, at that. So, you say this man, this Unspeakable One, is the same man who stole my ship?"
"Since his nation is now an island, he needed a navy," Igor explained. "So he thought he would start with your ship. A black galleon, named Revenge, seemed like the perfect flagship for his fleet."
Roberts nodded again. "So, what is it that you propose, then?"
"That we work together," Igor said. "You help me get back my nation, I help you get back your ship."
Roberts looked thoughtful, nodding his head slowly. "That sounds like a fair deal to me," he said.
"Roberts," Igor said, his face spreading into a grin that revealed his razor-sharp fangs, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
To be continued...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Dishonorable Scum Archives
Episode One: The Rogue Nation of Dishonorable Scum Goes to Hell (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=41498)
Episode Two: Dishonorable Scum of the Caribbean
Isle of Tortuga, the Caribbean
The Age of Piracy
Wednesday Evening
The Isle of Tortuga was famous for two things: pirates, and cheap taverns. Historians have speculated that these two facts are not coincidental, since pirates are known to like cheap taverns. However, the question inevitably degenerates into a heated argument, with much broken furniture and angered shouts of "Correlation does not imply causation, you fool!" But that is of little relevance to this tale.
What is relevant is the fact that, on an island known for cheap taverns, the Blind Parrot was the cheapest. It was the cheapest because is served the worst rum. Only pirates who were truly down on their luck and in search of the least expensive path to drunken oblivion would drink the swill that the Blind Parrot served.
In the interests of taste, we will not speak of the women who served the rum at the Blind Parrot, other than to say that most of them at least made an effort to wash and trim their beards daily.
In any event, our tale begins one Wednesday evening towards the end of the Age of Piracy, when an extremely strange man walked into the Blind Parrot. He was more than seven feet tall, and completely bald, with orange skin and pointed ears. He was dressed head to toe in black. His fingernails were black, and appeared to be more like claws than ordinary nails. When he smiled, he revealed a mouth full of wicked-looking pointed teeth.
Now, while the clientele of the Blind Parrot was used to peculiar characters, this one was far more peculiar than most. While the stranger appeared to be unarmed, the few men in the room who were not unconscious edged out of his way. As he looked around the room, scanning the face of each man in it, most of them decided that they had urgent business in Jamaica, and left in a hurry.
The demonic-looking man shrugged his shoulders, and approached the bartender. They looked each other over, and each of them privately thought that the other was without doubt the ugliest man on Tortuga.
Finally the tall stranger spoke. "I'm looking for the Dread Pirate Roberts," he said, in a voice that sounded like the wind blowing across a field of razor blades.
"Over there, in the corner," the bartender said, in a voice that sounded like an incredibly sexy woman whispering erotic suggestions to her lover.
The tall stranger blinked, and examined the bartender more closely. What his eyes told him was, without doubt, "ugly man", but his ears kept insisting on "sexy woman".
After a moment's consideration, he decided that it was irrelevant. He had seen stranger things, after all. "But Ishmael really ought to get a look at this man. Woman. Whatever," he thought to himself.
Then he turned his attention to the pirate in the corner. He was dressed in black from head to toe, with a mask covering his face, and had long curly black hair and a black moustache. He wore an ornate rapier on one hip. And he was lying with his head in a pool of spilled rum on the table.
"That's the Dread Pirate Roberts?" he asked, incredulous.
The bartender nodded. "That's him, all right," he (she?) said. "Well, a Dread Pirate Roberts, anyway. We get a lot of them around here."
The tall stranger shrugged. "Well, if he's the one..." he muttered, and walked over to the corner table. "Wake up," he hissed, and banged his fist on the table.
The alleged Roberts slowly raised his head from the table. "Hello", he said, in a slurred, vaguely Spanish accent. "I am the Dread Pirate Roberts. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"
"Aren't you getting your lines mixed up?" the tall stranger asked.
"Oh, right, I already killed the man who killed my father, so that cannot be you," Roberts conceded, swaying drunkenly in his seat. "It was something else, then. What was it you did that I have to kill you for?"
"You are the captain of the pirate ship Revenge, are you not?" asked the tall man.
"Right, that was it! I remember now," Roberts announced. "You stole my ship! Prepare to die!"
"No, I didn't steal your ship," the tall man replied.
Roberts then looked more closely at the man he was speaking with, making an effort to focus his eyes. He tilted his head back, and then back further, as he raised his eyes to look the stranger in the face.
"No, it was not you," Roberts finally admitted. "I would have remembered if it was you. It was some other man who stole my ship. Someone shorter, and not so orange."
"I know who it was who stole your ship," the stranger said. "He stole something that belonged to me, too."
"What? He took something from you too? What a scoundrel this fellow is! Let me at him!" Roberts shouted, rising unsteadily to his feet and drawing his sword.
"Sit down, Roberts," the tall stranger ordered. "And sober up," he continued, snapping his fingers.
Suddenly Roberts blinked, and stopped swaying. His expression slowly changed from one of drunken rage to one of hung-over pain. "Oh, my head," he moaned. "What you do to me? Who are you, anyway? And what do you want with me?"
"My name is Igor," the tall man told him. "And, seeing as how we are both after the same man, I have a proposition for you."
"You know who this dishonorable scoundrel was who stole my ship?" Roberts asked.
"He's dishonorable scum," Igor corrected. "And while he may have stolen a ship from you, he stole an entire nation from me."
"An entire nation?" Roberts repeated, sounding impressed. "You have to admit, this dishonorable man, he does not think small."
"Have you ever heard of the Rogue Nation of Dishonorable Scum?" Igor suddenly asked.
"Well, I have heard the stories, of course," Roberts said. "Who has not? It is supposed to be on an island somewhere near the Bahamas, and ruled by a man who was so vile and evil that Hell itself would not take him. But it is just a story."
"It is not just a story," Igor countered. "It is a real place. And it rightfully belongs to me. It was granted to me by Torquemada himself, the Chief Injustice of Hell. But this man, who calls himself the Unspeakable One, stole it from me and moved it out of Hell."
Roberts looked over Igor, and then nodded. "Yes, you look like you might know something about Hell, at that. So, you say this man, this Unspeakable One, is the same man who stole my ship?"
"Since his nation is now an island, he needed a navy," Igor explained. "So he thought he would start with your ship. A black galleon, named Revenge, seemed like the perfect flagship for his fleet."
Roberts nodded again. "So, what is it that you propose, then?"
"That we work together," Igor said. "You help me get back my nation, I help you get back your ship."
Roberts looked thoughtful, nodding his head slowly. "That sounds like a fair deal to me," he said.
"Roberts," Igor said, his face spreading into a grin that revealed his razor-sharp fangs, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
To be continued...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Dishonorable Scum Archives
Episode One: The Rogue Nation of Dishonorable Scum Goes to Hell (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=41498)