The Buccaneers Bay

[jammi]

John Crown walked in grinning to himself. Morris grinned too, having nothing better to do. "What you smiling at King?" He rumbled, the wonky, scar obscured grin remaining twisted across his face. It was funny that he looked like a monster - it contrasted with his mind of a child, or something. Some people might mistake him for almost being 'innocent'. Until they entered the Bay without permission, and he tore their arm off with his bare hands, anyway.

John pulled a newspaper clipping out his pocket and handed it to the giant security man. Holding the paper upside down, he frowned at the words, tracing them with the tip of a stumpy finger. John took the paper and flipped it over the right way then handed it back. Slowly Morris read out loud:

"Gov-ern-ment dec-lares Bucc-an-eers," at which point he paused, sweat beading on his forehead. "Bucc-an-eers, officially a threat." He peered at King, puzzled. "So, why's that important?" John just chuckled.

"The Government have just reevaluated our threat index - we're now officially a 'considerable concern'. The last time a politician said that about the Buccaneers was 453 A.S, just before we went big. Our time is coming Morris. This is going to be the second age of the Buccaneers!" Morris grinned his endearing, twisted grin again as his friend patted him on the arm and wandered away into the room's smoke cloaked depths.

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[roadrunner]

Tony came running to the bar entrance hardly had time to stop and send a big grin to Morris,
"Hey king he yelled into the dark bar is it true what i was told while on patrol. the goverment declares us a officially treat-You barkeeper keep the rum cooming its on my tap today"

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I am not a native English Speaker, so i make grammar errors.
But it annoys me when people make silly comments about that... especially brits who for the most part can't speak their own language let alone anyone elses!

[Donutman]

Jack looked up from his rum and yelled across the Bay.

"Ya mean a official threat Tony?"

//ooc: Grammar nazid.

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This thread is so stupid that a bird sitting on a nearby tree just EXPLODED.

[Darkard]

Mick Johnson stepped up to the door of The Buccaneers Bay. He furrowed his brow slightly as he rolled his eyes across it, examining the frame. With a gentle push the door glided open.

Before he could even step through the now open doorway a heavy hand held him back by the shoulder. Mick allowed his gaze to follow the arm up to the face of its owner before both his eyebrows raised in shock.

"I dont know what happened to you tiny, but I dont think I would have made it this far on board if I wasent part of the Gang now would I?."

The huge and mangled man stopped to think for a moment before releasing his grip on Mick's shoulder.

"Sorry, 'ahs not got used t' the new bar yet." he said.

"Yeah ok, I can belive that" Said Mick, before stepping inside.

Taking a quick glance around the room it seemed that there were one or two more senior looking men giving him the eyeball, while most of the other patrons busided themselfs with intoxication and shouting at each other. The upper level looked like a good enough place to stay out of the way and so Mick made a bee-line for the stairs.

---

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<div align="right">QFT</div>

[Wolfs Ghost]

Thomas rolls off the table and lands on the hard steel floor. "Gah! My bloody back..." He said staring up at the ceiling. "Whats with all the commotion?" He said sitting up then making his way to his feet. "I bloody swear. You chaps woke me up, why the bloody hell am I in the bar?" He glanced around before stumbling towards the bar stools. "Oi, Charles! Rum, please."

Charles smiled shaking his head and passing a bottle of rum towards Thomas. Thomas, taking the bottle greedily got up and wandered to his new spot sitting down and opening the bottle of rum then drinking a bit of it. He smiled lightly and stood up on the table.

"With a Yo ho ho and a hi hi hey!
The Buccaneers are sailin' Leeds!
We're sittin' here to stealin' all yer gold!
T' make our Cap'n smile with glee!"

He then downed the bottle of Rum spilling some on himself and the table.

---

[jammi]

John reached over the bar surface to pluck an empty bucket from one of it's shelves. Handing it to Charles he told him to fill it with water, who having done so handed it back to King. Who of course promptly threw it over Anderson.

"Stop singing you bloody idiot! You're doing my head in!" Anderson smoldered for a moment before sliding off his seat and clawing his way up the bar to a standing position.

"You're no fun King... More rum, Charles." John laughed at that, and went to find a table that wasn't covered in water.

"Just don't give up the day job Anderson - we've got traders to catch," he called as he disappeared into the room's shadows. Many of the other Buccaneers found John's ability to melt into the darkness quietly disconcerting.

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[Darkard]

From the upper level it seemed to be pretty easy to stay hidden. Allthough the commotion that some of the louder patrons made was probably doing more for Mick than the stealthy abillitys the belived he had.
Some of the other Buccaneers he had met had told him about the rough time the Prospects got and judging by the way the Lieutenants were mashing each other about it wouldent supprise him if 'a rough time' for the Buccaneers was a blaster shot to the skull.
Mick quickly decided he would stand a better chance of surviving till Buccaneer rank in his ship. Leaning over the balcony he looked to see who was about and to guage his chances of escape. As luck would have it one of the Lieutenants had just been given an impromptu bath and another was just slinking away. Eyes were drawn to one or the other and so Mick made a move and slipped quickly out of the door, giving a little nod to the doorman on the way out.

---

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<div align="right">QFT</div>

[jammi]

John, who'd just thrown a mug of something alcoholic at Ambrose (he'd trained that bloody monkey to pickpocket people!) was slinking off to the shadows. He happened to look around in time to catch sight of one of the newer Prospects dart out the door. Probably sensible. He was doing a good job though - he'd assisted in the fight against a Colonial Carrier he and Anderson had been stuck into. A picture of that fight's explosive conclusion was pinned up behind the bar.

Suddenly the lights flickered, followed by the groan of tortured metal. There was a distant rattling bang, followed by the lights dying, and the room being pitched into darkness. There was a hush of worried muttering as the Buccaneers present attempted to figure out what was going on. Then there was the wail of a klaxon, a brother to the hellish red emergency lights now wheeling around. Bulkheads slammed down all over the ship to maintain air in case of a hull-breach. The murmurings were now raising in pitch, shouting breaking out throughout the throng.

John waded into the group. "Shut the hell up! This is going to be sorted out in a minute - get back to your drinks you dogs!" The noise of angry Buccaneers was immediately cut off, and replaced by crackling tension as people sat back in their tables. The klaxons continued to blare their prophecies of imminent doom, and the emergency lights continued to bath the living in a hellish hue.

John vaulted over the bartop to where Charles was fidgeting nervously. "What's this King? Just a drill, right? Right?" John ignored him and grabbed the inter-ship radio that had been kept behind the bar even before the Buccaneers had repossessed the place. Dialling the bridge he waited tensely.

"What the hell is going on?" He yelled at the Buccaneer who was sitting on the command chair in the Captain's absence. The lad was stuttering - he never expected this to happen on his watch.

"Engine failure, King. We haven't been maintaining her like we should have been. One of the plasma turbines blew, and took a chunk of hull panel with it. Engineering deck's been decompressed. Don't think we lost anyone though." King took the news in, then sat in silence for a moment.

"Can you repair it?" He snapped, unsettled at the prospect of various pieces of machinery across the Leviathan spontaneously exploding due to lack of care.

"Yeah, but we haven't got the materials. If you raiders can bring them back, we can have her patched up to spaceworthy standards within three days. Then we'd have to pull in at Invergordon." That wasn't so bad. The Leviathan hadn't been irreparably compromised.

"Keep the doors down around the engine compartments. Open a route to the hanger - we're heading out to get you what you need." It looked like the Buccaneers had a job ahead of them.

---

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[Darkard]

Mick was walking at a brisk pace down the halls of the Prison Liner towards the landing bay, side-stepping Buccaneers as they obstucted him. The prison ship decor was quite depressing and it gave him the feeling he was being watched. A feeling he was not too keen on at this stage in his career. Further down the hall a Buccaner pilot was leaning over a blushing female engineer, he smoothly leaned on the dull metal wall and turned his head to show off an impressive scar that ran up his neck and jaw.

"Got that off a Corsair in a bar babes, I took him down though. He was weak." said the pilot, in what he thought was his coolest voice. The engineer leaned in for a closer look. "I got him with a swift stab like this, right in the gut, SLAM!"

The Pilot recreated the bar fight with a little too much bravado it seemed, as the engineer shrieked with fright at his sudden movement, dropping her small tool bag to the floor. But that wasent the only thing that had scared her, the lighting had definatly faultered for a moment. And the ominous sound of moving hull plates rolling down the corridors dident help the mood either. Everyone stopped and gazed at the walls and ceiling. Further unhappy sounds heralded the compleate loss of lighting.

"Oh my god" Whispered the engineer "Oh God! I need to go!"

"No wait baby! Ill protect you!" called the pilot, shouting pointlessly into the dark. The sound of the engineers stubling run quickly getting quieter. "Dammit..."

There were a few seconds of tence silence, Micks eyes straining to make sence of the inky blackness. They dident have to try for long as the Warning Sirens and lights flared up.

"OH CRAP!" Screamed the Pilot "SHES BLOODY GOING DOWN!" He grabbed Mick by the arm and dragged him to one side "Get out the damm way Prospect!"

As the pilot pushed him away Mick stumbled on the tool bag still on the floor. His arms flailing for somthing to hold they grasped onto the billowing jacket of the pilot causing him to be dragged backwards as well. As Mick fell clumsily on his side the pilot dropped flat on his back infront of him with a heavy thud. The pilot winced in pain and let out a groan before turning to look Mick straight in the eye, he looked pretty angry.

"I am going to kick your-" Mick did'nt hear the rest of the pilots words as they were dround out by a sudden grinding of metal on metal. Looking up, the Blast Doors were rushing down towards him. Mick quickly and almost without thought, rolled a full 180 degree and grabbed the blast doors frame. He slid easily along the polished metal as he pulled him self along the floor and hoisted up his legs just before the blast door slammed down.
Although Mick dident see it, the wet crunching sound told him what had happened to the pilot. He allowed himself a glance over his shoulder and then snapped it back again with a whispered "oooh". Clambouring up off the floor Mick brushed himself down and composed himself a little before pacing away down the corridoor. He did'nt want to be around when they found that mess.

---

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<div align="right">QFT</div>

[Capt. Henry Morgan]

Captain Morgan had seen the damage to the Leviathan before he ever stepped foot on it. He could tell it wasn't battle damage, and the terrified officer on the bridge told him that it was one of the plasma turbines. As soon as the Lusty Wench moored with the Leviathan, Captain Morgan was stalking down the corridors towards the engine section. Every buccaneer in his path quickly moved out of his way. They could see the Captain was on a warpath, and didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

As soon as he entered the engine room, he looked for his chief engineer. When he saw the man, the Captain walked towards him. He was busy giving orders to one of the junior engineers, a young lady who deserted the BAF to get away from the war. Captain Morgan drew his pistol and shot the Chief Engineer in the back of the knee. All activity around the engine room ceased, as all eyes turned to the Captain and Chief Engineer. Captain Morgan holstered his pistol, and roughly hauled the man up to his feet by his throat.

"You want to tell me what I'm paying you for? This ship was in top condition when I put you in charge, and we need this ship to stay in top shape. It's the closest thing we've got to a base out here. Without it, we're sunk. Now, you want to tell me what your people were doing instead of routine maintanance? Was it so important that it was worth damaging the ship through your laziness?"

As it happened, Captain Morgan didn't get an answer, since during the discussion, the man had turned an interesting shade of purple, then passed out. Captain Morgan let him drop to the floor. He pointed to one of the Buccaneers near the door.

"Throw him out the airlock."

The Buccaneer quickly moved to comply. Captain Morgan now looked at the young BAF deserter. She looked quite nervous at this point, but stood her ground anyway. Captain Morgan liked that.

"You, take charge here. Get that turbine locked down so we can get back to Invergordon in one piece. Then, I want a full check of all equipment to make sure nothing else breaks down. Keep this ship in top shape, and you'll be rewarded. Otherwise, you'll end up like that fool."

Captain Morgan didn't wait for an answer. He just turned on his heel and left the engine room to head up to the Bay. He needed a drink. And maybe once they were underway, he'd have a private word with that engineer he put in charge. She was rather attractive, after all.

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