Pirates Smp - Blog Posts

Herons Aren't Lightweights

The Herons base was rowdy at night.

They all gathered together, tankards of beer in hand, drinking like there was no tomorrow. There may as well not have been to them.

Cleo continued brewing up drinks, adding input to the conversations going on around her.

Scott was up on the stage with Christian, asking questions in a hushed tone, yet somehow she could still hear the slur in his voice.

Eloise sat with Water, both singing somewhat poorly to bar songs and the made-up anthem of the Herons. Olive sat beside them, joining in every now and then but mostly just working on tuning their instrument.

Owen sat at one of the tables, head in his hands. He let out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut.

"Guys? I think someone needs to take Owen to bed." Cleo called out.

"Really? Already?" Olive asked. "We've only had...had..." Olive's eyes began to droop. They downed another drink. "We've only had, like, five drinks."

Water shrugged. "I can take him. Be back soon!" Water stood up, staggering a little, then approached Owen. "C'mon, let's go. You've had enough for tonight."

Owen only groaned weakly in protest.

Once Water had carried Owen out of the tavern, Cleo glanced over at Scott. He was still talking to Christian, and was gesticulating madly.

Olive and Eloise seemed distracted enough. They wouldn't mind if the next round of drinks didn't come for a bit.

Cleo carefully walked up to Scott, then paused a little behind him.

"What do I do? I- is there anything I can...do for him? I mean, we've just started talk...talking to each other again!"

Christian merely shrugged in response. "I am not sure. For now, give him some space and a little time. Eventually things between you will get easier."

Scott's ears flushed. "I don't have time to wait that long! What if one of us goes out on an expedition and never comes back? I may never get to see him again in time, and I don't want thing to be tense between us if and when that happens!" His voice rose in pitch and volume.

For a brief second, Eloise and Olive glanced his way. Then the two of them slowly turned back to each other and their drinks.

Cleo set her hand on Scott's shoulder. He spun around and grasped at the handle of his rapier, then let go when he saw it was her. "I think you should sit down now Scott. Give Christian a break."

He nodded meekly. "Yeah. Yeah, sure." Scott allowed Cleo to lead him to a seat at a table, then push him into it.

"Is it about Acho?"

Scott hesitated, then nodded. "I just...I just don't know what to do."

"Think about it in the morning. You're not thinking clearly right now. When you're sober, think about it then. For now, you can either keep drinking and drown your sorrows in alcohol, or you can take a rest like Owen. No shame in either option."

"Alcohol. Strong alcohol." He didn't stutter, and his voice was almost completely free of a slurred tone. Almost as if he hadn't had more drinks than most of the other Herons already.

"Sure?"

"Yes. I want you to give me so much alcohol that I can barely move around tomorrow. No, for the rest of the week."

Cleo sighed. It wasn't a good idea, but they were pirates.

Since when was anything they did a 'good idea'?

Olive let out a startled yelp, then a joyful squeal. "Cruppy! Hello!" Cruppy jumped at Olive's heels, rubbing against them and jumping like a puppy would. Olive bent down and stroked Cruppy, to which the crab-puppy-thing eagerly jumped into their lap for stroking convenience.

Smiling at the sight, Eloise was suddenly motivated to sing even louder and more joyfully than before. Olive joined in with equal vigour and Cruppy nestled in their lap peacefully.

Cleo shook her head with a warm grin, then grabbed the next round of drinks.

"To us!" She declared, holding her tankard tight and pushing it high into the air.

"To us!" The others parroted, with varying levels of volume and enthusiasm. Regardless, the sound could be heard well beyond the Herons' base and echoed through the town.

Water returned, arms free of Owen, and shouted, "To us!" at the top of her lungs. A delayed reaction, but a welcome one.

For the rest of the night, they all chanted the same thing over and over, falling asleep in the tavern.

They all regretted it in the morning.

But Herons weren't lightweights, and for some strange reason, they all wished to prove it.

just finished the pinch hit I was able to pick up for @ghostlyrkive as a part of @smpsona-gift-exchange, and I had a blast!!! I saw an opportunity to write with pirate bek, and had a lot of fun with the potential of this sona concept :] the wonderful wonderful ghost!!

word count: 1587

The island was one of the smaller ones Ghost had ever seen. Warm, slightly sticky in the air, with that humid heaviness that hung around these kinds of trees. The undergrowth was thick, and bloomed in jewel tones, and generally speaking barbed around the leaves and thorned down the stems. It was a blunt kind of prickle-berry that dotted the spaces between tree trucks. It reminded Ghost a bit of the coral, not too far from here. It was always easy to scrape your knee on that. 

Something snapped, and Ghost turned its head toward the sound. It hadn’t been on the island long, and already night was falling. Good. Helpful. 

Its feet were bare against the emerald grass, but protected from the barbs lining this place. Walking wasn’t like swimming at all, but it was more interesting, in some ways. You have to worry about your weight. Ghost was worried about that, arms out to the sides just a bit for balance, but not worried about pricking its feet. Night was helpful for spawning monsters. Scales were helpful for protecting things like bare feet. 

There was another snap as a twig broke under a lumbering body, and a low groan. Ghost crouched even lower, finned ears angled toward the sound, reaching. Sound moved differently when you were above water, too. A lot of things were different in air instead of the ocean. 

There, between the leaves. A sickly green, another groan. Ghost’s fingers flexed, claws glinting in the dusk light. It almost fit with the growth around it, in its sharpness, but had a sea-worn shine. Everything here was a dullness, a rounded quality, even to the points. 

Just meant its claws would be that much more efficient. 

Ghost lunged, reaching toward the shambling shape and quickly pulling it toward the ground. With a few practiced slashes, the zombie fell, a pile of shabby flesh and a tattered blue shirt left over. Ghost stood up, brushed off its hands, and looked down at the slain foe with hands on its hips. 

“One out of three. Not a bad start.” 

“Who are you?” 

A voice that was distinctly not Ghost’s boomed, and it spun around with a start– almost into the point of an extended blade. 

Bek’s glare was harsh, and hir hand steady as it leveled her trusty dagger, notched and curved in a wicked angle. And pointed right at Ghost’s throat. 

“Oh. Hi.” 

Bek’s hand jabbed a fraction of an inch closer, but far too large a fraction for comfort. “Not an answer, fish.” 

“Oh, right,” Ghost laughed nervously. “Ha. Well, I’m Ghost. We’ve kinda met, actually. You just didn’t know it?” 

Ghost slowly raised its hands, before realizing that baring its claws might not actually be the most pacifying motion. Ghost slowly lowered its hands. Bek blinked. 

“What.” 

“Well, Owen pointed you out, I guess. So I saw you, but you didn’t see me. You’re Bek, right?” 

“Yeah. I’m Bek.” His one eye was very good at glaring. 

“Can you… lower the knife, Bek?” 

Bek didn’t move. “You haven’t explained why you’re a fish.” 

“Bit rude, to ask people why they’re a fish,” Ghost murmured. 

They looked at each other for a moment. 

“I was born part sea creature.” 

That one eye was really good at glaring. 

“I’m a pirate now though, so… truce?” 

After another long, long moment, Bek finally dropped aer hand to aer side, and harumphed with a bull’s exhale through her nose. “So they just let you on the Pirate Isles, then? You’re not going to siren song us all away or something, are you?” 

“No!” Ghost relaxed in posture now that there was no blade at its neck, slouching onto one hip and resting its hands there in fists. “I’m one of you! I wanted something new, adventure, piratey things, so I’m here now. Here, look–” It rummaged through the pouch at its belt, pulling out a small scroll. A quest listing, asking for a quota of monsters hunted off this very island. “I even do quests.”

Bek looked at the scroll without bothering to reach out and unroll it, recognizing the dimensions of the paper. Paid muscle did a lot of questing. “Monster hunting?” 

Ghost sighed. “Monster hunting.”

Bek thought for a moment, nodding to hirself as zhe looked at the scroll, chewing on his cheek. And finally, their posture truly relaxing now, as she finally sheathed their dagger. 

“Alrighty then. There’s probably more skellies on the underside of that cliff over there.” 

Ghost straightened up, as Bek turned on heel and began to cut through the undergrowth in the direction of said cliff. “What?” After a moment of hesitation, Ghost began to trot after the other pirate. In all honesty, the knifed threat didn’t put it off much. That was pretty standard for pirates confronted with a sea creature. It was pretty standard for pirates in general.

Bek explained it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You have a monster hunting quest, and I have a monster hunting quest. We can kill monsters together.” 

Ghost caught up as Bek came to a stop at the edge of the overhang, peering into the shadow below. Bones knocked together as skeletons patrolled, the groans of zombies were a low orchestra, and the occasional spider’s hiss punctuated the whole scene. It was a bit strange, looking at these things with such a distant gaze, when some people would call both skeletons and sea serpents monsters. 

Ghost wasn’t going to dwell on that right now, though. Bek was willing to work together, and it seemed nicer than going it alone. Even if this was a very skilled monster hunter, and Ghost may or may not fall under the categorization. Truly, who knows if its death would tick the counter up. 

Ridiculous. The scroll specified monster type, after all. 

“Alright,” Ghost piped up eventually, after a moment that felt far longer in thought. 

Bek didn’t wait any longer to jump into the fray. 

Bek, of course, fought with hir trusty dagger, as Ghost slashed with claw at the ligaments of oncoming attackers. It was an interesting dance, fighting through the mob with another person to worry about– there was a jolt of fear each time Bek appeared in front of Ghost in the frenzy, both with the worry that Bek might accidentally stab at it, but also that it might run into Bek. Yet it never happened. Bek dodged expertly, and Ghost had no small amount of control itself. Hunting below the sea was a twirling, twisting dance. This was just a new one. 

The hoard thinned before long, and Bek grinned a proud smile as her dagger poked at the remaining stragglers. One other spider jumped at Ghost, but it was easy enough to parry. Almost fun. A kind of rhythm came with it, as Ghost hit the critter back with each lunge. 

“Not bad,” Bek said. Ghost threw a look over its shoulder, though Bek hadn’t turned aer attention from the mobs with aer comment. 

“I’ve been around quite a bit,” Ghost remarked back. “I’ve killed my fair share of monsters.” 

Bek hummed at that, as he shoved down the last of the beasts. “Which faction are you posted up with?” 

“Um… none, at the moment.” Ghost finished with the spider, and quiet fell. “It’s been… a bit rocky, trying to figure out getting in. What with the whole–” it gestured to its scaled ears, waving its claws “Thing.” 

Bek nodded a bit, huffing as she caught her breath from the fight. Ze looked up, then, to meet Ghost’s eyes. There was something… familiar. Or at least, Bek seemed to recognize something, when they looked at the other pirate. 

And they looked at it like a pirate. 

“Not worth your time.” Bek sheathed hir dagger, clicked aer tongue. “No one’s ever around anyway.” 

Ghost blinked. “I thought that was the Nightingales’ whole thing, isn’t it? Community?” 

“Oh well, sure, they’re around. But that doesn’t count. Kite’s the only faction worth joining, and there’s no one ever around, so it isn’t worth joining.” 

Ghost listened quietly as Bek talked. She kicked the ground, stomped a foot, looked off to the horizon. This whole interaction had been awkward, blunt. But something clicked a bit more, now. Bek’s attempts to reach out were gruff and very indicative of the Kite attitude, but they were more indicative of the Kite behavior. 

It was lonely, on that isle of fighters. 

Ghost knew about lonely. It was hard to find an in, when you hefted yourself out of the sea and had to fight to convince everyone you weren’t a sea monster. Even after initially breaking the ice, it was hard to get further than polite conversation. Ghost wasn’t going to give up though, and there were people who had been welcoming it. Maybe, with Bek, here was one more opportunity to prove itself a true pirate. 

“You know, I happen to know a lot of these islands,” Ghost began. It stepped toward Bek, a bit to the side, so they looked out at the horizon together. Bek’s gaze twitched in its direction, before returning to the distance. “With your monster finding, and my island finding, we could get a lot done.” 

Bek looked at Ghost again. Ghost turned, and gave a quick, fleeting grin. And in the quiet after, Bek gave a flicker of a grin back. 

“We could get enough to afford a pint after, even.” 

Ghost laughed. 

“We could.”

I see your "Scar betrayed his crew" angsty lore and I raise you "Scar is the Gulliver/Gullivarrr of this universe and constantly gets swept off his ship, and his (very exhausted) crew always have to go searching for him every time. He is very embarrassed about it so he Just Lies to make himself look cool"

My fellow three Nancy drew and pirates smp people: I’m having thoughts about making an edit with Scott and acho using the Harper line about Charlotte. Thoughts?