July 1, 2013

Clockworks on the Island I

Hello! If you're reading this during July 2013, then I'm busy writing for NaNoWriMo! I'm also busy taking a class over this month, so I will be harder to reach. However, I have written a short story to be published over this month for you to enjoy. You'll find an update on things twice this month. Enjoy!


Available backstory: None
Timeline: Post-MB/AQ

With a cupped hand, Brecken slid a portion of crowns into a small drawstring bag. Reading over her torn letter again, she buttoned the bag to the inside of her coat, slipping her heavy backpack off. Sarah Steele took it and proceeded to put it on.
"Are you sure about this, captain?" Brecken nodded to the table and rested her head in her palms.
"I owe a debt to the island --"
"No, you don't!" Practically skipping through The Golden Bough's oaken door was a cat pirate, Catbeard to all recognizing his stature, "You've done well enough. Your war is here." With that word, others began to walk into the tavern. They originated from all parts of the Spiral, wearing similar purple patches as Brecken had sewn into her boots. They took mugs of Yum and sat around their captain.
"For now," Brecken said, turning up, "Sarah's in charge. Catbeard, you're navigating." A small hand snatched the paper from Brecken's grasp.
"These rules sure are strict," Monkey King chuckled, reading through it with his wary glare, "Surrender all unused weapons to the resistance. One mustn't tote extra supplies and provisions unless necessary..." Monkey King read through the list. The crew laughed lightly and scowled at the harsh warnings and standards.
"No more than five thousand crowns and one hundred thousand gold to a person, too," Monkey King finished, rolling the paper and setting it back on the counter, "They asked for you in particular. How kind." Brecken rolled her eyes and slipped the letter into her pocket. On it was Captain Avery's Seal, followed by the signature of both him and the Frogfather. Checking once more for supplies, Brecken found in her coat a single extra dagger, preserved Yum-Yum fruit slices, three small vials of Mojo Potion, and her money. The crowns she had on her would be enough to get a transportaltor's serive to the island, and then back with some to spare. Brecken took her ship and home deed, handing them both to Sarah. The bartender swung around, refilling mugs of Yum and handing Brecken a feather, an Aquilan pinion. With a nod, the swashbuckler placed it in her hat. Standing up, she walked to the door. It was without a wave that she left, leaving the crew in a stupor. Calling a horse from the front of the tavern, Brecken rode towards the docks of Nova Aquila through the soltice humidity. In a short distance, one could see the glowing blue orb making a transportal. The transportalator, a tall Krok, nodded to Brecken .
"You're going as well?" he asked, wisdom finishing his syllables, "You're the fourth one today. I've opted to transport a group in a few minutes." Brecken nodded, silently dismounting. Her hand subconsciously worked through knots in the horse's mane, braiding them single-handedly. A few other pirates showed up, some mounted. One stern-faced musketeer toted a familiar autocannon used by the Armada Dragoons. He was mounted on a panther which growled at Brecken once she made eye contact. This one, Brecken noted to herself, has been places. Looking towards the sky, Brecken saw people getting off of ships and heading towards the transportalator. Few carried backpacks, and those who did held their heads high. Brecken felt the clink of extra weapons behind her saddle– a spear, greatsword, two muskets – she felt them to be heavier than her normal backpack. Brecken looked through the letter again. It read that pets were allowed though they would be more likely to fall in the efforts. Brecken whistled with her fingers, a blue skarakeet returning to her shoulder. Brecken acknowledged its presence by brushing her hair to the side, revealing a single golden earring on her left ear.
"Ready to go?" The wise old Krok smiled at Brecken , accepting her fear as his own. Brecken was familiar with the magic of the better Kroks, how they were rumored to dispel fear. Brecken nodded, looking towards the transportal. It glowed with marvelous brilliancy, only lighting up even more. Brecken mounted the horse and rode on through, looking back once to beautiful Aquila before all became blue.
Errol sneezed. The congestion plaguing him for the past week had risen to a maximum in the frustration level. Even though he had been eating plenty of Yum-Yum fruit, it didn't seem to be going away. He crouched behind the bazaar, face hidden in sleeve, hoping that nobody had seen him. Footsteps crunched through the sand, approaching Errol and making him yelp a little.

"Aye, so ye're the one goin' fer th' weapons," a gruff voice chuckled. Unarmed, Errol sprung to his feet, making a run for it across the warm sand. He was clad in what he had stolen – a ski cap and collared jacket. His shoes were almost worn through. As he saw the transportal light up, Errol thought of making a run for it. However, he stopped short as people began exiting. He dove into the bushes. It was too late, however.  
"Can I help you?" A dissatisfied-sounding pirate trotted towards the bush. Errol popped his head out.
"I need weapons," Errol complained. The pirate, a swashbuckler by build, rolled her eyes and felt behind the saddle, where extra weapons seemed to be stored.
"What class do you specialize in?"
"I'm a fencer...a swashbuckler." The pirate turned and smiled a little. She nodded.
"Use this pair of daggers," she sighed, "I used to use them, but I've taken to this set with a sparkshooter." Errol reached for the daggers but was weighed down immediately by them. The swashbuckler, now dismounted, raised an eyebrow.
"I-I got this," Errol grunted.
"Call me Jeffries," the pirate grumbled, mounting and trotting off. Errol sighed and sheathed the daggers. They would be hard to handle, but they were weapons at all. Errol walked after Jeffries. Perhaps she could show him how to use the weapons, since she had fought with them before. He ignored the sound of cannons on the wharf.

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