Shango & Tristy: the Curse of the Colorful Gem
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June 2nd, 2013 (03:07 PM). Edited June 5th, 2013 by The Prince of Sweet Sorrow.
The Prince of Sweet Sorrow
Join Date: Feb 2009
Shango & Tristy:
The Curse of the
*takes place in a
"Ahoy me hearties, tis be yer captain scribblin' these words... me, scourge of the seas, Sandor Morrigan. Let tis' be me last secret 'fore I leave th' cruel world, 'n a warning to ye all high 'bove the dark seafloor... me greatest treasure is cursed. Tis saucy jewel wit' th' many colors, I speak of. Grand't me riches 'n fame, oh, it did, but at a cost. Bugger ol' Morrigan if he trusts 'nother of those magic trinkets! Now ol' me lays here, on me throne of gold and th' skulls of me brave crew, waitin' fer me death. Wenches! Not that death'd be th'end. Be warned, then, ye scallywags 'n filthy landlubbers - seek me treasure, 'n me'll rise from the dead to gut ye, bow to stern..."
His hammock was tied onto two palm trees, swinging back and forth as the breeze went past. He had his sailor's hat over his eyes and his hands braided on his belly, relaxing after a day's sailing. The sound of the sea's waves was more soothing than he had ever imagined. He sighed in relief, welcoming the comforting heat of the sun, and his friend's as she sat on his chest. She was a sprite of fire, a Victini.
She was looking up to the sky.
"Shango, look," she called out cheerfully, pulling the hair of his cheek to draw his attention.
"Mmm," he replied lazily. The sprite snatched the hat off his eyes, the sunshine blinding him for a moment. He sat on the swinging hammock, dazed.
"Look!" she cried, pointing up. And he did. A flock of Pidoves was soaring in the skies, headed off to the south. "Beautiful, aren't they?"
"Yeah," Shango said, grinning, "and tasty." Being a Zangoose, birds and the like were his favorite meal. Tristana, though, who was much of a kind soul, only ate berries. She looked at him with her mouth gaping open in astonishment.
"You wouldn't be able to stop me," the Zangoose laughed and grabbed her head to raise her in the air playfully. She tried to punch him, her eyes flaring, but she couldn't reach him. Their eyes locked - the deep, green ones of Shango that were flecked with a gold ring and the blue ones of Tristana that were as clear as the sky. He didn't see fury in her, only love, admiration and a child's complaint.
No wonder she's following me everywhere,
he thought with a cocksure half smile that he saved only for the ladies.
"Um, Shango," she uttered, concern showing on her face as he held her. "Don't you think we should get back to the ship? The captain will be looking for us by now." She put the sailor's hat back on his head.
"No, he won't," Shango said and jumped off from his hammock onto the sand of the beach. He looked around, his ears falling lazily to the sides at the sound of the waves.
I never imagined there was a place of such beauty in the world,
he thought. The beach had white sand that shone under the sunlight, the sea's shallow waters were crystal clear and turquoise and the open blue in front of him was soul soothing. The rocks of the reef were black and grey; Shango loved to assault the Clamperls that were hiding there to find pearls.
He would give none to Tristana. It would make for a nice gift, but the gold he could get by trading them was more important, and Tristana realized that. His friend's understanding was more valuable than the treasures he could find underwater.
Kneeling on the sand, he motioned to Tristana, who brought his bag. He unfolded a map in front of him, the map of Carajol Sea, his eyes searching the tiny island on the Novayas they were on. They were treading on pirate territory.
he thought, not a bit sarcastically, nodding at the map with a smile as if it could understand him.
"What's up?" Tristana asked. "What are we even doing here, Shango?"
"Chiefly, acquiring a ship of my own. I don't intend to remain a privateer for life, you know," he laughed charmingly, folding the map back into his bag. "Then, once I bend the knee to no man, we scour these seas for the Colorful Gem." He turned his eyes from the open blue yonder, back into the jungle forest of the island. The wind made his fur shake as he took off, Tristana flying over to sit on his shoulder.
"Oi, 'er daddy needs a drink," he heard his captain call out to the wench of the tavern.
The pretty, fluffy Cinccino was back with their ales, and the Mankey was already drinking down his tankard. The Tyrogue, Nicholas's mate, did the same; there was no ale for Nicholas himself. He was a Grovyle, fond of fresh fruits of the forest, not ale.
So, fruits he ate, wondering where the forth member of their crew had gone: a Zangoose, who was always being followed by a sprite of fire, a little Pokemon whose species was unknown to everyone.
The Mankey captain had already finished his ale and smashed his tankard on the table. "More, damn you," he yelled in an ale-drinking fury.
"You're no different than pirates," the wench complained, scurrying back into the kitchen to bring more ale to the company of sailors. Nicholas thought that ought to be true; looking at his mates, he realized they were only one black hat away from being pirates. Instead, they were all wearing the sailor's hat of the Navy, with its insignia woven on it: the Floatzel, using Surf. That signified their role on the Novayas clearly: they were privateers, seeking to attack any pirates they came across on the islands.
Nicholas thought it a silly job. The Novayas were pirate territory and they were risking their lives treading on these waters as they were. But, the Navy was paying well, and he'd do anything that payed well.
Glancing outside the window of the tavern, into the night, he saw a whitish figure walk under the street that was brimming with moonlight.
Ah, and here's Shango,
he thought, watching the muscled, handsome Zangoose as he closed in the tavern, Tristana flying about him. The doors of the tavern flipped open and there he was, quickly headed to their table.
"Avast, Shango," Nicholas announced him, leaning back his chair on the wall, his feet on the table, greeting the Zangoose with a grin.
"Oi, lad," the Mankey captain said without looking at him, his face red from the ale.
"Evening, gents," Shango said with his typical fancy smile and attitude. He'd already grabbed a chair, to place it backwards next to Nicholas and sit on it, leaning forward on the back of the chair. His fiery spirit flew to the Grovyle's hands so he could pet her. "Hi," she said, looking up in his eyes. He patted her head, smiling. "Ahoy, Tristy," he replied, fond of her company as he always were.
"Shango, where were you?" their Tyrogue mate called out, after sipping from his tankard. "Out with a girl again, that it?" He chuckled.
"No," he replied, dusting off his furry shoulder. "The sport's taking a toll on my conscience, mate. Who knows how many bastards I've fathered." They all broke into laughter, except Tristana, who was scowling. It had occurred to Nicholas many times, since he'd met them, that Shango's guardian angel followed him around because she was smitten with him - Shango himself seemed to be a ladies man.
Now looking at the Zangoose, he saw his usually jolly expression tighten. "Well, gents, I've some news for you." His voice lowered, and they all leaned in the table to listen closely. "I caught a glimpse of a ship sailing under the black flag, just east of here."
The black flag meant pirates. "Pirates, eh?" Nicholas said, "we ought to give chase, no?"
"Aye," the Tyrogue said, then asked, "what kind'a ship?"
" Shango immediately replied. "A slow ship, should be easy to catch." The Navy had given them a small schooner, designed to outspeed and outmaneuver enemy ships.
"Blimey, le's go blow 'em down," their Mankey captain yelled and finished his tankard of ale. He put his captain's hat on his head and jumped off his chair. He motioned for his crew to follow them; Nicholas got up, holding Tristana close and scratching her head as he had seen Shango doing.
Shango nodded at their captain with a grin, stood from his chair and grabbed the Cinccino wench from the tail as she passed by, pushing her against his lap. He whispered something in her ear, making her giggle, but the look she gave him was apologetic as they left the tavern.
"The tavern's in league with the pirates. They sent word to alarm them," Shango said to Nicholas as they walked through the small town towards the port.
"How'd you know?" the Grovyle questioned, astounded, making Shango chuckle.
"I've seen many wenches looking sad as I go, but not this kind of sad," he replied in an arrogant smile. "She probably thinks us dead meats." Nicholas glanced at him, thinking the Zangoose was far too clever to be a simple privateer.
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