Fantasy Sea of Spells

[Stok]

Port Royal was quiet this morning. Be it only the crack of dawn, that is. The gulls have barely stirred, and barkeeps are just coming back downstairs to wake the drunks. Only the waves make a constant noise, and this is possibly the only time Port Royal is quiet. In the morning, when the drinking is done and everyone is far too hungover to begin any sort of sailing duties.

The capitol of the floating republic of pirates could be best identified by it's smell. Fish, the main food source. Alcohol, the drink of choice. Lastly, piss, as the ground was soaked with it. Still, it was a neutral territory. So badly needed to keep the peace these days, and it did it's job well enough. The shanty-city on the sand sprawled about, with proper mansions on the hill occupied by the pirate lords. One belonged to Blackbeard, almost always unoccupied and locked tight. Another, to Helena. The third, and minor, to William Kidd Kidd. Kidd never had the ambition Blackbeard and Helena had. Most say it ensured his survival in the pirate wars. "Get in, get out," he always told his men. That was his retirement plan. As many big scores as you could find, and then call this dangerous life quits. Blackbeard discussed this with him sometimes, but their definition on what was enough to leave the life always seemed to differ.

At port, only a third of the docks are filled. Helena has three whole slots to herself. The Harpy, The Basilisk, and The Chimera. All three adorned and edged with black wood, each massive in their own right. The Harpy, clearly the eldest sister still. The Queen Anne's revenge was absent, off causing hell who knows where.

One of the only souls awake on the beach, is a young vagabond and ruffian. Well known in these parts. His name: Abel Beckum. Today is the day he intends to begin recruiting for his own pirate crew. His own Schooner floats at the docks as well. Fresh as the day it was commandeered. The slight grin on his face let's one know he is delighting himself in the process. A roughly made sign of planks is stuck in the sand before him. It says:

"Pirate crew wanted,"

He busies himself with making a large circle, about the size of a wrestling ring, in the sand. He digs it out partially and also lays small stones around. Humming "Leave her Johnny Leaves Her," to himself as he works. Eventually there's nothing else to be done, and he begins to stretch a bit. Then, a few punches are thrown. A long stance similar to English pugilism with his arms outstretched, but with strong forward kicks thrown in here and there. Eventually, he begins motioning grabs, and takedowns. Rolling and diving to the ground, mimicking a grappling match. Sooner or later he seems satisfied with his warmup, and sits down cross legged. His hand propped behind him.

By ten o'clock there is a small crowd of eight or nine people. Mostly young men who look fresh off plantations or merchant vessels. Barely seen a fight in their lives, and couldn't make hide nor hair of what exactly this circle was all about or what this captain-to-be might want from them. Abel stared back at the greenhorns occasionally, but mostly lazed about in the middle.of the circle. Seemingly waiting for more arrivals. Apparently, his contacts had put out the word like he'd asked. All he could do now was hope one or two interesting people would wander. Interesting, and powerful if he was really lucky.

( Ayama EmperorNorton1 cinnarinn are all free to post introducing their character. The order this happens in will determine your place in the posting order. Godspeed!)

 

[Ayama]

"No one gets what they deserve. If you want something, you have to take it for yourself."

Rafael de Santiago de Asal y Marcón

The Young Summoner

It was a beautiful early morning in the seedy, pirate-controlled town of Port Royal, and an unlikely character was strolling along the beach. Short, pale, with almost vampirically sunken eyes and raven black hair- this was the kind of person who would stand out anywhere, but especially in a place such as Port Royal.

The worst part of it all had to be the outfit, clearly. In raven black and abyssal blues to match his hair, with ribbons and frills all over the place and only the most expensive silk cloth- he was bound to get noticed.

Of course, some rich pirates were little better than fops themselves and dressed similarly, but hardly anyone would suspect this seeming boy of being anything of the sort. Not that they would be wrong, of course.

" 'Useless?' 'Not worth her time?' " the boy fumed aloud, "Can you believe that? I have never been so insulted in my entire life!" he ranted, angrily kicking pebbles out of his way as he walked. "I mean really- what about me is unsatisfactory, I ask you?" he demanded of thin air, looking like the stuck-up rich kid he was and, without being aware of it, answering his own question.

Well, you might want to lose the bows... a snide voice responded in the boy's mind. His smooth features creased into a menacing frown.

It was a rhetorical question, demon, he telepathically responded. If I actually wanted your opinion, you can be certain I would ask for it.

Just trying to help, the spirit mockingly responded. You know how I like to be helpful.

Rafael groaned aloud- it was too early for this nonsense.

And if I want your help, I will ask for it, he repeated.

Not usually. Usually you just yell "DEMON" in that whiny voice of yours, and expect me to just know what you want me to do, the voice quipped.

The boy rolled his eyes.

Which is precisely why I made our connection telepathic in the first place. Now be quiet.

If he'd been at all prone to caring about demonic feelings, he would've sworn the silence that followed had a sullen tone to it.

I can't believe I was turned down... Rafael thought, truly surprised by that morning's turn of events.

*****​

Having heard that none other than Helena the Sea Witch was actually recruiting, and that the Harpy was docked at the port, he'd hurried there first thing to make his case, certain that he was about to get exactly what he wanted.

The moment he'd stepped onto the gangplank, however, everything felt wrong. It was that prickly, unsettling feeling at the back of your neck when you know someone or something is watching you, except that it felt like he was being watched by the ship itself. He repressed a shiver and made it onto the deck, at which point what the ship might or might not be doing ceased to matter, as every eye on board was suddenly fixed on him and he was overwhelmed with the feeling of being deeply unwelcome.

Who would dare set foot on the deck of the Harpy uninvited and unannounced? the eyes seemed to say.

He stepped forward timidly, feeling more nervous than he would like to admit. Not only were these people seasoned sea veterans and part of the most legendary pirate crew in the Caribbean, but many of them were also fearsome and accomplished mages. Suddenly, Rafael didn't feel quite so special anymore.

He walked slowly the length of the deck, still being followed by the crew's gaze and trying very hard not to meet anyone's eye, lest it be considered a challenge. These people struck him less as a typical pirate crew, and more like a creepy magical cult- it wasn't what he'd been expecting.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally made it across the deck and knocked on the door of the captain's cabin. Upon being told to enter, he found that the captain's quarters were a dark but lavishly furnished affair, exhibiting all the trappings one would expect of a rich pirate captain and dark magic high priestess. And Helena certainly looked the part- dressed in long, flowing dark robes and ensconced in a chair of black wood that appeared to recede into shadows even as he watched, untouched by the slightest ray of light.

The only thing about Helena's appearance that clearly marked her as a pirate captain was the wide-brimmed, feathered hat, of obviously Spanish make. I need to get one of those, Rafael thought, suddenly fashion-conscious.

Beside Helena's chair floated a woman. Well, a child, more like, looking about Rafael's age (though he of all people knew such appearances could be deceiving). She smirked at him knowingly before lazily floating above Helena with her hands behind her head, grinning the whole time. She then closed her eyes and looked away from him, as if she'd lost interest. An irritated vein pulsed in the demi-fae's temple.

"Speak," Helena commanded in a voice that was clearly used to being obeyed. She seemed to be surrounded by a dark aura, unlike any Rafael had ever felt. It was as if her power filled the entire room, exhorting a sense of magical pressure that made one feel almost claustrophobic. Rafael swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat and nervously stepped forward.

"Great witch of the Seven Seas," he began, figuring a little flattery couldn't hurt, "I have heard of your search to replenish the lost members of your crew, and I have come to humbly present myself to you. Rafael de Santiago de Asal y Marcon, summoner of the third degree." He swept himself into a bow, wishing more than ever that he'd been wearing the right hat.

"Ah," Helena said after a pause, eyeing him with obvious derision, "and what, exactly, makes you think you are of any use to me? I have a fae aboard already, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how magically volatile having two of you on the same ship can be." The floating woman opened one eye to watch Rafael's reaction as he struggled, unsuccessfully, to keep his expression neutral.

"I also have demons at my own beck and call, so I have no need for the lowly sub-fiend you have attached to you." The noble's hand twitched into a fist under the two women's amused gazes. "Leave my chambers, little fae, and return to me only when your summoning abilities are worth my time."

Rafael had wanted to produce an angry retort, but the magical pressure had intensified, and he knew that, were he to overstay his welcome, she was liable to use her power against him. He'd inclined his head with an angry jerk and swept out of the room, shaking with rage and fear.

*****​

He walked the beach in helpless anger, still kicking pebbles out of the way as if they'd caused him a personal offense, replaying the conversation with Helena the Sea Witch in his mind.

'Magically volatile'? he fumed. Absurd! Having several fae together has never been any kind of issue! Making up excuses... He mumbled telepathically to himself in increasing incoherence, barely paying attention to where he was going.

You should calm down- the demon's snide voice interrupted, -learn to control your emotions. I mean her, she called me a 'lowly sub-fiend', but do I take offense? You can't let every little insult get to you.

Rafael thought this was rather rich, coming from an entity whose sole pastime, aside from violence, seemed to be trying to get a rise out of him at every possible occasion.

I don't need a lesson in self-control from you, demon, he swore. If the thing wasn't on a magical leash, it would tear human beings apart for sport. And besides, I don't need-

Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted as he noticed a brown-haired young man lounging on the beach before him in the middle of a stone circle, next to a crude sign stuck in the sand that read 'Pirate crew wanted'. A small group seemed to have gathered around the circle to... what? Try their hand?

Pfff, the fae thought, disdain etched in every line of his face. I can't believe people would actually join the crew of some random stranger just sitting on a beach. Does no one have standards anymore?

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

Spoiler: Previous version

"No one gets what they deserve. If you want something, you have to take it for yourself."

Rafael de Santiago de Asal y Marcón

The Young Summoner

It was a beautiful early morning in the seedy, pirate-controlled town of Port Royal, and an unlikely character was strolling along the beach. Short, pale, with almost vampirically sunken eyes and raven black hair- this was the kind of person who would stand out anywhere, but especially in a place such as Port Royal.

The worst part of it all had to be the outfit, clearly. In raven black and abyssal blues to match his hair, with ribbons and frills all over the place and only the most expensive silk cloth- he was bound to get noticed.

Of course, some rich pirates were little better than fops themselves and dressed similarly, but hardly anyone would suspect this seeming boy to be anything of the sort. Not that they would be wrong, of course.

" 'Not fit to be a pirate!' Can you believe that? I have never been so insulted in my entire life!" the boy fumed aloud, angrily kicking pebbles out of his way as he walked. "I mean really- what about me is unsatisfactory, I ask you?" he demanded of thin air, looking like the stuck-up rich kid he was and, without being aware of it, answering his own question.

Well, you might want to lose the bows... a snide voice responded in the boy's mind. His smooth features creased into a menacing frown.

It was a rhetorical question, demon, he telepathically responded. If I actually wanted your opinion, you can be certain I would ask for it.

Just trying to help, the spirit mockingly responded. You know how I like to be helpful.

Rafael groaned aloud- it was too early for this nonsense.

He walked the beach in petulant anger for a while more, replaying the conversation with Helena the Sea Witch in his mind.

"You? A pirate?" she'd said, and both she and her entire crew had laughed in his scandalized face- his cheeks reddened at the memory.

"Come back when you grow a chest hair!" one of the crewmembers had roared. Rafael had left the Harpy with the sound of their laughter ringing in his ears, looking like he was about to cry and feeling more humiliated than he had in his entire life.

I'll make them see what Rafael de Santiago de Asal y Marcon is truly worth! the demi-fae vowed.

At that moment, he was distracted from his injured and vengeful thoughts by the sound of a bright voice from somewhere nearby.

"Hey! You! Care to join a pirate crew?" Rafael lifted his eyes to see a brown-haired young man lounging on the beach before him in the middle of a stone circle, next to a crude sign stuck in the sand that read 'Pirate crew wanted'. A small group seemed to have gathered around the circle to... what? Try their hand?

Rafael raised an entitled, supercilious eyebrow at the man, bad humor bubbling to the surface.

"Are you addressing me, sir?" he asked, somehow already pre-insulted. Just because he had been rejected from Helena's crew didn't mean he would stoop to joining up with the first random person he saw.

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

 

[EmperorNorton1]

The sun rose over Port Royal, the city of criminals, vagabonds, and refugees. people hardened and worn down by the lashing of saltwater, by tongues of flame, by the ice of steel. hardworking people, with calloused hands, who still turned their eyes east towards the Old Country, and to the homeland, two places to which they would never return. and, most were content. after all, Jamaica was a beautiful island, forests, beaches, the only dark spot being the plantations and the auction house, where people, people were sold.

here, even in the quietest part of the city in the most peaceful part of the day, on the most beautiful island in the world, Sebastion was restless. Normally, the sound of the crashing waves and the soft crunch of sand beneath his boots did well to soothe him. but still, his shoulders refused to relax, his mind's eye still bleary with the ashes and smoke of the pyres of Portugal.

Distracted, he began to walk, making his way out of the unofficial Jewish quarter where he resided, his legs carrying him to the beach near the pirates' docks. It had only been two years since he had requested retirement from the Captain, his heart longing for some kind of community and the freedom to be openly a Jew. and yet, now his heart ached with a longing for the sea, for... not adventure, nor for gold, but rather... He wanted to return. not to the old Jewish homeland, though the holiness of Safed and Jerusalem called to him. no, he wanted to return to the ocean, and to the fight against the Inquisition. Jamaica was a haven, but how long until the Inquisition forces the British to change their minds on tolerance of their Jewish residents?

Sebastion walked past a small crowd of people chattering together, his eyes landing on the brown-haired man in the center of a rough circle drawn in the sand, who was watching the men. A crudely drawn sign requested a pirate crew, and Sebastion's pulse quickened ever so slightly. he approached the crowd, most of them young men a little older or younger than him, each looking eager, some with yet-soft hands, with the oddest one of the bunch a pale child, who couldnt have been older than twelve. not even a man by Jewish standards. a pirate ship was no place for children. The circle implied some fight, didn't it? if they were to battle each other, Sebastion would likely have the upper hand. He didn't have his blade, and he was in no way a master at the martial arts, but he could hold his own, and maybe throw sand in people's eyes if that would help.

Sebastion rolled up his sleeves, his arms tanned from years on deck, beginning to do some of the more basic arm stretches, standing just off from the group, breathing in and out slowly to settle his heart. he would need the rush of strength later, it was better to save energy.

 

[cinnarinn]

The thick scent of salt and seaweed accompanied by the golden glow of the sunrise helped awaken the slumbering brunette. It took a moment for the young woman's eyes to adjust to the environment she was in, another moment necessary for the reality of where she was and what she was about to embark on to sink in. She became giddy with a mix of excitement and fear. What if she wasn't able to complete the first stage of her task? No... That wouldn't happen. She would remain in Port Royal until a crew took her on board, after all a newer crew may require a healer.

It took a short time for the woman to pull herself off the cot she had obtained in a small inn a short walk from the beach itself. Obtaining the room had been difficult in and of itself, but she was resourceful. A little after sunrise sunrise, she was fully dressed and bag packed. Everything was impeccably organised in her case, components all fitting neatly. The woman took a moment to refresh her own protection charm and strap her dagger to her thigh underneath a thin, strategically placed slit in her dress. Having thrown her pack onto her back, she collected her case and made her way out to walk under the warmth of the early morning.

Nessa's chosen walking route took her around the town and along the docks. The day before she had tried a few different crews that were recruiting, each time being rejected due to her being green. This isn't how she had hoped her first day of attempting to join a crew would go. Then again, her hopes may have been a little too optimistic. Had her expectations been a little lower, she would have realised that it would possibly take a few days, if not weeks, to find a crew who would take someone who hadn't yet developed their sea legs. It was as she was accepting the disappointment that she stumbled across a small crowd forming in the shape of a circle.

"Pardon me. Sorry. Excuse me." Nessa apologised to many different people as she slipped into different gaps within the crowd to get through for a better look. Her shorter stature helped in this department, as she could slip through the smaller gaps that most wouldn't be able to able to creep through. When she got closer to the front, that's when she saw the circle on the ground and the roughly made sign seeking a pirate crew. Were all the people gathered here to try and join the crew? If they were, she had to put herself towards the front of the crowd. She had to be on this crew. Nessa didn't think she could take another day of crew hunting.

 

[This Name is unavailable]

Astrid​

As the sun rose above the horizon, inside of an inn that had a built-in bar (as most did in Port Royal), tucked away in a more out of the way corner of the main street, all had seemed to be a peaceful and quiet morning - that was until the front door of the inn swung open with a bang! The next thing that happened was a body came flying out of the entryway at such a speed, that when it hit the ground, the body actually bounced a few more times before it finally settled down into the dust cloud it had kicked up after finally coming to a stop. The thing that was lying there could only have been described as a whale of a man, someone that looked as though they could barely even walk under their own power, let alone fly through the air! As the man lay there groaning in his expensive looking clothes that looked three sizes too small, a woman came striding through the door - a sneer upon what was supposed to be an extremely attractive face. The sneer made her look more like a wrathful demon than a stunning beauty however. The next thing that could be noticed was that she was extremely tall! Almost standing a full head over the rest of the crowd and that her clothing was odd for the climate of Jamaica. "Disgusting pig!" She spat as she approached. She slammed her foot into his gut, causing him to exhale violently as the air was knocked from his body, "you think I'm some kind of cheap whore? Huh!?" She pulled her leg back and kicked him in his stomach as he had turned over onto his side, trying to get his breath back, and with that he had passed out right there in the street.
Seeing this Astrid clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, turned her head to the side, and spat into the dirt on the street. "Can't even take a hit on top of that? How weak!"

Astrid then turned around, walking back inside while saying loudly, "Sorry about that, Maria, just had to take out the trash!" It was only a second after she had entered that she re-emerged from the door with multiple weapons upon her person. "I'll see you later, yeah?!" She called back with a smile. A voice answered from inside, sounding a little exasperated with a smidge of irritation, "c'mon don't be like that! You know you'll miss me." Astrid said with a hearty laugh before walking out into the streets. Completely ignoring the crowd that had gathered around the loathsome merchant she had just thrashed.

She made her way down towards the docks, hoping that she could find some good work, as she was beginning to run a little low on coins. She enjoyed her stroll through the streets as she made her way, her favorite axe Logi, resting upon her shoulder as she held it lazily in her hand. People gave her a wide berth as she walked towards the docks - she didn't mind. It had been like this since she had arrived at this point about a week ago. Most people avoided her due to her strange clothing, large stature, and intimidating demeanor. Others avoided her because they had heard of her, the monstrous strength she seemed to wield, and the ferociousness in which she took care of business. She hummed a gentle melody to herself as she saw the piers come into view, a smile breaking out upon her lips.

As she meandered without a care down the pier she listened out for anyone that seemed in need of an extra hand. It was still early morning so there weren't many out who were looking for anything that suited her skill sets. It wasn't until she reached a certain section of the beach, where she had noticed that a large crowd had gathered, their voices buzzing in hushed excitement about whatever they were standing around. Curiosity piqued she made her way through the crowd - most people just getting out of her way as she approached. She didn't need to go too far, as she still stood well above most of them, before she spotted the object of importance. This had only served to raise her interest even more! Someone was looking to start a new crew huh? A grin broke across her face as she observed the brown-haired man that was sitting within a circle upon the sand. A test of strength and combat ability then? How exciting! She looked around the crowd, noticing that most of these men hadn't seen any sort of actual combat in their lives, and she scoffed under her breath.

There were only a few that seemed at least a little promising to her.

Another young, brown-haired (that looked more black than brown), brown-eyed man, who was warming up his body. It was obvious that he had some sort of experience in combat.

A brown-haired, blue-eyed, woman that looked like she might be better at close quarters than the previous man - due to the more natural way she held herself in a ready combat position.\

The last was something of a shock instead due to their appearance. A person that looked more like a child than a man, their pale visage was highly unusual in this place, but Astrid would hold her judgment until later. Never underestimate your opponent.

With a smile, Astrid lazily rested her weight upon her axe which she had rested in the sand with it's handle, and waited for the show to kick off!

 

[Stok]

Abel stayed stoic and relaxed on the sand for a while. Eventually a few interesting characters showed up. One mage, a druid of some sort by the looks of her. One man who seemed like he's sailed a ship. He was thin, but sinewy like a good sailor. That's good, thought Abel. He needed at least one more person who could help him teach rigging if he had to end up recruiting more than a few green-horns. When the tall woman arrived, Abel's eyes widened. She looked Slavic to be sure, but her clothes didn't fit those of a pirate. More so someone accustomed to living in the wilderness. What sort of person was she, exactly? One man... No... One child? Dressed in the manner of high society. The fact that he hadn't been mugged and left for dead in Port Royal meant he was probably a strong magus. Strong enough, anyways, to be left alone. In addition, a few more seasoned-looking sailors showed up too. They filled out the crowd, making the whole affair give off a more dangerous vibe than it had first thing this morning.

Finally, the person he was waiting on arrived. A man of African descent, very broad and strong. His biceps were the size of cannonballs. Perhaps the only other person in attendance as physically imposing as the icelandic woman. He carried a small burlap sack over his shoulder, and walked all the way around the crowd to sit outside the circle. His clothes were modest like the rest of them, and plain. His head was bald, and he disregarded everyone except Abel.

"Alright then Beckum. Let's get this little show of yours started,"

"Thankyou Kofi, fine to see you this morning. You've got enough supplies for this lot?" He says, talking about the crowd as if they weren't there.

"I do, but you're replacing them all, got it?"

"Alright alright you lecherous rebel, just draw your circle," Abel replied with a smile. Kofi set about doing just that, though his circle was much smaller than Abel's. In time the occult practitioners in the audience would recognize it as a magical circle. No runes or magical symbols of any sort adorned it's edges. Only shapes placed at the proper angles. Kofi opened his sack and placed a small wooden statue in it's center facing him, and began praying to himself. He then pulled five dolls from his sack, and placed them in a line below his magic circle. Finally he got up, and touched the edge of Abel's circle and said a separate prayer. It was all in some African language, so most including Abel couldn't tell what the words were.

The air shimmered a bit over where the stones made up the edge of the ring, looking a little like a cage. Everything became normal as if nothing were there, after a second.

"You're ready, go ahead," said Kofi. Abel stood up and addressed the crowd finally.

"Anyone whom wants to join this crew need only participate in a bit of sport! If you're under seventeen, go ahead and scram! I don't need a cabin boy, and I can't pay anyone who can't pull their weight! Shove off, lubbers!" Abel made eye contact with the boy in the top hat ( Ayama ) specifically for that last line. He'd heard of Noble families capable of creating prodigies, putting grimoires in their hands the moment they can read. Still, the boy would likely be caught unawares by musket fire the moment a skirmish broke out, and Abel wouldn't be the captain to get him killed. Warriors, that's what he was truly looking for here. Not pirates.

"You'll all be fighting me! Weapons allowed, but no death blows! No cutting off heads, or stabs through the heart! This is Kofi!" He said, pointing to the voodoo practitioner, "He can heal any sort of injury below that! Therefore, I'll be taking some of you on three or four at a time. Don't hold back, or there's no getting on this crew! Use any magical or physical means to incapacitate me,"

That was all it took for most of the younger men to leave. They muttered words like "insanity," and "psycho," as they left. One or two true sailors also left, not willing to be shot or run through just to join a crew. Still, some stayed behind. They seemed to think if all they had to do was gang up on him, this would be light morning work.

Abel pointed to five of the youngest in the crowd still clinging to the idea that they might have a shot at this challenge. Might as well get the crowd whittled down quickly, that way they get to the main events. Abel knew there were few people on the island capable of beating him one on one. His magic was entirely specialized in each field for combat. Thus, the handicap.

"You, you, you, you, and you, step into the ring," as each of them did, the air shimmered again. Abel allowed them time each to draw weapons or ready themselves. These first few didn't even have weapons for the most part, only one young woman drew a knife and pointed it at him. She rushed first, and he turned his body to the side. Grabbing her wrist, and bicep, he yanked her forward to add to her momentum. She traveled into the 'wall,' created by Kofi's magic. It looked as if she smacked into I glass wall before she fell on her ass. Abel, then have her a swift kick to the head while she was down. She fell unconscious. This sent a few others from the crowd instantly sauntering back to town. Before the little scrap was over, Abel had broken another man's arm. Another he drop kicked, almost as if it were just for fun. The boy had the wind knocked out of him, and then received a knee to the face. The remaining two boys forfeited, and ran yelling from the circle once Abel gave them the nod. Kofi set about fixing up the victims.

He waived one of the simple dolls over the unconscious woman, and ripped it's head off. She instantly opened her eyes, and despite looking healthy again backed away from Abel frantically. He seemed to take no pleasure in her fear of him, but was appreciative of the bodies to further warm up on.

Kofi then bent the arm of the doll, while holding it over the maimed young man. He ripped it off, and the teenager's arm popped right back into place. He continued to sob regardless. Finally, Kofi fell silent and Abel turned back to the crowd again once the ring was clear.

"Anyone still itching to try?" He said with a smile. It was striking, his boyish cute face. The delicate, somewhat pale skin. Blue eyes that sparkled like he was telling jokes, all while mercilessly crushing his opponents.

 

[Ayama]

"No one gets what they deserve. If you want something, you have to take it for yourself."

Rafael de Santiago de Asal y Marcón

The Young Summoner

The notion of a lack of standards didn't seem to bother the dark-haired man who arrived shortly after him, as he walked up and started doing stretches like he was getting ready for a fight. Rafael rolled his eyes.

Really. A magical contest I would understand, he thought with derision, but fisticuffs? Clearly, the noble thought such crude things were beneath him (although with his build, it was probably a good thing that he was a summoner and left all the fighting to his demon).

A mane of long dark hair and a flowery, slightly familiar scent drew Rafael's attention away from the stretching man to a short woman who, in this group, stood out just about as much as he did. From her skin and her eyes and her ears and just general aura, Rafael could tell at a glance that she was Fae. It gave him a sudden unexpected pang of longing for his family and his home.

He didn't have time to dwell on it as, at that moment, shortly after the appearance of a tall nordic warrior, the man in the circle was joined by a friend, who made another, smaller circle beside his. Rafael was impressed by the simplicity of the ritual- his summoning circles took far more adornment and preparation than that.

The brown-haired man in the larger circle proceeded to explain the absolutely preposterous way in which he was choosing people for his crew, which got him another of Rafael's disdainful eyerolls- right up until the moment when the man made eye contact with him and deliberately made a point of stating that he didn't belong there.

At which point, being rejected twice in less than hour, the young summoner saw red.

Who does he think he-

The question was interrupted by the demon giving a shrill, impressed whistle as the man decked a small group of people before their eyes.

Now, that's what I'm talking about, the demon commented in obvious approval, making his master's fury ratchet up another notch.

As the man challenged those still remaining near the circle to give it a try, the summoner balled his hands into fists.

Attack, he telepathically ordered, too far past the line of reason to realize you couldn't just unleash the full force of a demon onto some random idiot on a beach- no matter how obnoxious he was being.

With a cry of glee, the invisible entity leapt forward with alarming alacrity, claws and fangs both aimed directly at the man's throat.

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

 

[EmperorNorton1]

Sholem finished loosening his arms as a shorter brunet wove through the crowd of men and women chatting eagerly, making her way to the front. her bright blue eyes glimmered, just ever so slightly too bright, and were he a modern man, this would have sent the words "uncanny valley effect" scrolling through his mind. however, this is 1717 with magic, and so instead, part fae was his mind's conclusion. And, now that he thought about it, there was most certainly something with that kid as well.

Having little experience with arcane magic, Sholem made a mental note to be wary of these two. again, he worked to focus instead on his breathing and turn his thoughts away from the road that nearly always lead back to the Inquisition. and there he was. spiraling yet again. he made a small grimace to no one in particular, again returning to the crowd.

the dark-haired man returned to stretching out his body, his legs this time, the exercises only standing ones, finishing with those as a tall, and strongly built woman entered the crowd, dressed uncharacteristically for the warm climate of Port Royal. She must have been from the northern lands he had on occasion read of. Sholem couldn't imagine living somewhere so cold. She carried a large axe, and Sholem began to realize that a good chunk of the group was armed. so, others had known about this, rather than merely stumbling by. And yet, the young man in the center of the ring, though he didn't look green, he didn't look as though he was old enough to develop the reputation a pirate would need to rally so many to a crew. so there must be more at play.

An African man arrived, the two men having a snippy yet friendly interaction, before the bald man began making a smaller circle on the sand, while the brown-haired young man finally addressed the crowd, in English, explaining the rules of the tryouts.

"You'll all be fighting me! Weapons allowed, but no death blows! No cutting off heads, or stabs through the heart!...I'll be taking some of you on three or four at a time. Don't hold back, or there's no getting on this crew! Use any magical or physical means to incapacitate me,"

Well then. very overconfident, or brutal and extremely skilled. It wouldn't be smart to go first, it would be better to watch either way.

*one very brutal fight later*

as a good chunk of the crowd fled in horror, Sholem understood their reasons for wanting to flee well. the young man was brutal, perhaps more than he needed to be. but even then, this was to thin out the crowd, and the life of the pirate strips away one's gentleness. Sholem knew that all too well. with the crowd much thinner, he knew he'd have to act now to get his choice of allies for this fight. The pirate was specialized in combat, so a direct assault wouldn't work.

As the invisible imp lunged for the throat of the pirate, an unaware Sholem approached the fae woman. She would have some kind of magic, yes? so they should work in tandem.

"Hello, would you be good with partnering up for... that?" Sholem asked her politely, his voice just audible enough for only her to hear, while gesturing at the circle, glancing back just as the creature turned visible, his eyes widening.

 

[cinnarinn]

Nessa surveyed the crowd, waiting for any further instructions and a hint as to what the circle was really for. She could only speculate for that moment. Her fingers gently drummed against her grimoire; patience wasn't exactly a virtue the part-fae was known for when her curiosity was piqued. From the crowd she noted a tall woman whom definitely was more physically imposing than Nessa herself.

Fortunately for Nessa, she didn't have to wait for long to get her answers. Her attention was pulled back to the circle before her as the brown-haired man in the centre of the circle greeted another man. She watched in fascination as the new man drew a simple circle adorned with precise shapes and carefully positioned stones. She wished she could hear more as she watched the African gentleman praying before a wooden statue he had placed before him in the circle. The whole magic circle ritual was fascinating to her as it wasn't like any she had seen before in her community.

The announcement that the crowd were to fight the young man didn't exactly surprise her, but the revelation that he would be taking some of the crowd on several at a time. There's no way the man could take multiple people at once... He's just one man! She watched as several people, likely her sort of age, walked away whilst muttering insults, watched as what appeared to be seasoned sailors turned their backs on the circle. Nessa wasn't sure if it was awe, intrigue, or sheer stubbornness that kept her firmly rooted where she stood. Surely he can't.... Oh! Maybe he can... She watched as watched as 5 eager young people were selected and swiftly knocked down.

Determination and a dash of false confidence kept the girl at the edge of the magic circle. Her eyes trained inwards, she didn't notice the man approaching her until he was next to her.

"Would you be good with partnering up for... that?" He asked, his voice quiet.

The girl barely registered the question, preoccupied by the events unfolding in front of her; a large horned creature with leather skin rushing forth at the man who had, moments ago, struck down a number of potential candidates. After a moment's pause to process everything that was happening, she offered up a response. "I suppose an ally couldn't hurt. Hold out your arm." Nessa's hand was in her pocket, reaching for some common herbs, and her grimoire delicately balancing open on her forearm.

 

[This Name is unavailable]

Astrid​

Astrid had dutifully watched as the events had unfolded, it was a luxury to be sure that she got to study her opponent in full, without said opponents’ blades trying to come down upon her neck. When the young man had selected five random people from the group, those that to her eyes, looked as if they could barely find the right way to stand – let alone wield a blade. A grin had spread across her face as she watched this person dispatch them with relative ease, a good sign, if he had lost to them then he should have probably considered dropping this whole thing right then and there. Her instincts had told her that he held power though, so she wasn’t surprised by the end results.

She had also taken note of the other mans, the one of African looking descent, healing capabilities. The shield-maiden’s blood sang! So, she could afford to be a little serious then? Oh! How wonderful! Ever since her voyage into lands unknown from her homeland, Astrid had been met with a far share of disappointment, as the more she fought the more she realized that most people couldn’t match her in strength. They could barely take a hit! On more than one occasion she had severely wounded someone by accident (as well as on purpose…looking at you, you fat-walrus-man), when trying to have friendly mock battles, and each time she hoped that they would be able to provide her with the excitement she craved!

Even back home, most of the boys her age didn’t dare to enter the arena with her, they spoke of her like she was some kind of monster from their myths and legends!

A small chuckle escaped her lips, perhaps they weren’t too far off in their assumptions, and having people wary of your strength was a compliment to Astrid.

She snapped back from her train of thoughts, something had gotten her attention, something that had changed slightly in the environment. Like a strange wind on a day that didn’t have any.

Astrid refocused all her attention back to the man in the circle, at first it was extremely hard to see, if you weren’t focusing then you would surely miss it, but just there along the sand – there was something moving towards the man in the middle. The grains of sand were moving strangely, almost as if something was dragging them along in a line towards the young man, starting from the person that looked like a child (whose face was flush with anger) to the circle.

This was no mere gust of wind!

It was at almost the last second, that a being materialized right in front of the man in the circle. Dark leathery skin, large menacing horns resting upon its head, and the smile of glee it had as it closed in on the man with sharp looking claws – spoke of its demonic origin. It was with a grin that she realized the child looking person was a summoner, and the young man had insulted them if the look upon her face said anything! This was going to be so much fun to watch!

Astrid also noted that the other two promising looking people were now standing together, conversing silently, and she knew that they were probably going to team up. Astrid laughed heartily as her anticipation grew.

Things were beginning to get interesting!

 

[Stok]

"oh come now, no takers--" Abel started to say. He had just enough time to catch his speech and react, before he was assaulted. He knew not by what, except that it was monstrous. And unnatural. Abel's eyes widened, and his expression turned to surprised rage. The next thing that happened was less expected.

Abel's skin began to darken instantaneously, into a greenish brown. His veins became dark purple, and bulged from his body in many places. His muscles began to double in size until he was larger than the demon by an inch or two. Not only this, but he grew more striations as well, looking more cut. Each muscle group threatened to leap from his skin. In some places it did, blood seeping from the tears caused by rapid growth. In the moments it took for the Demon to cross the circle and snap at Abel's neck, he had gone from looking like a fit young lad to a cross between a bodybuilder and a gargoyle. He roared and barely held up his forearm to catch the Demon's jaws before they opened his neck. Blood too seeped from these holes, but the demon would notice only flesh beneath his teeth. No bone.

No doubt this monstrous growth was instinct. An involuntary reaction, in an attempt to keep himself alive. That was evident in the wild way he responded, and bellowed like some great barbarian.

The other hand went to grab the Demon's horn, and in one motion Abel attempted to whip it's head to the ground. Like Hercules wrestling a bull. He put all of his weight into the action, so that if he was successful he would land right on top of the creature.

 

[Ayama]

"No one gets what they deserve. If you want something, you have to take it for yourself."

Rafael de Santiago de Asal y Marcón

The Young Summoner

Rafael watched Abel's transformation with widening eyes. He had never seen anything like it- in the space of a few moments, the young man had gone from a dark-haired rogue to an absolute monster. Greenish brown skin, bulging, purple veins... he was even taller than Rafael's demon now.

The demi-fae watched as the now monstrous Abel roared and caught the demon's jaws with his bare forearm. Blood streamed from the bite marks but, blinded by rage, Abel seemed not to notice.

He gave a great bellow that all but shook the sand, and reached for the demon's horn. Caught by surprise at the sudden change in weight and strength of his target, the demon was thrown to the ground.

Still completely past any form of reason, Rafael let out a frustrated cry, hands still balled into fists.

Come on, get up! he instructed angrily. Don't let him take control!

At this point, his wounded pride would not allow him to lose this fight.

Easy for you to say, the demon retorted with obvious irritation. I don't see you risking your neck.

Be quiet and do as I say! Rafael responded. Don't hold back.

Well, if you say so... came the gleeful response.

At that, the demon kicked upwards with all his strength, getting monster Abel right in the gut to knock the wind out of him- at least enough for the demon to get out from under him and back away.

He stared Abel down with abyssal black eyes, searching for a weak point to target.

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

 

[EmperorNorton1]

as the daemon lunged itself at Abel, Sholem pulled his arm back from Nessa, about to politely decline, as he had not interacted with the fae, and didn't know what the plan was, glancing back at the ring for a moment, just as the demon turned visible, and Abel transformed. The brown-haired boy doubled in size, his body ripping apart, swelling, and turning a nasty shade of bruised green.

Sholem's eyes went wide. there most certainly was no way that he or the woman could win the fight, and the kid wouldn't be able to beat the morphed man physically. glancing back at the woman he was speaking to, he shook his head "I'll decline your spell, but- that kid is going to get himself killed if he charges in. We need to-" he leaned up, whispering something in Nessa's ear that im putting elsewhere because its gonna be a surprise >, urgency in his voice, pulling a small chunk of graphite and a scrap of paper from his pocket, and scribbling some strange characters, before balling his right hand into a fist around the scrap of paper.