ninetoes | Open Post

"Just looking," he answers quickly, brows raising high for a moment before his brain catches up and they furrow. Was that stupid? Maybe he shouldn't have been looking, but he was. When someone comes storming past you like they're on a mission and heads straight for the ship you've been eye-fucking for twenty minutes it's only natural.

Nothing, might have been the better answer, but it would have been a thin, unnecessary
lie.

Izzy pulls himself up a little more. He's been chewing a bit of resin and spits it to the ground before nodding towards The Ranger.

"Is that your ship?"

"Hornigold's ship." he answers, but it's said with the sort of pride that suggests he considers it his own as well. He lived aboard it after all, a favored member of Hornigold's crew.

There are only a few reasons one might ask such a question. They aren't in the sort of port that would require anonymity, or otherwise Ed wouldn't have answered at all. The other man could be a pirate hunter, but Ed had grown fairly competent in his swordplay- he could take on one man. If he was a hunter it was foolish of him to come alone, and any other men on board would quickly jump to Ed's side for reinforcements. No, this was a man looking for work, staking out prospects, or at the very least a man on the run. Ed knows the type because he's been there before.

"What's it to you?"

Hornigold, of course. That makes sense given his reputation and the vessel's grandeur. The man largely responsible for establishing this republic. The best, most respected ship of all pirates. Now with that knowledge, all other prospects drop away. It will be this one or nothing.

Izzy has to get on that ship or he will die.

The bloke doesn't look old enough to be captain, but he's crew. It's an in. This is the opportunity he's been searching for. The cutlass on Izzy's hip is a reassuring weight but could be just as damning. It's regulation issue, but a man could have gotten that off any ol' kingsman in battle. He hopes for the latter to be assumed.

"I'm looking for tenure. Not shy of 'ard work or killin'."

Earnest with the air of having experience in both. Why a seasoned boy would be out here alone looking for prospects is anyone's guess, but he answers the obvious follow up himself.

"I want something worth doing. Somewhere I can make a real difference."

Not shy of killing. Well, that makes one of them. Ed grits his teeth, thinking it over-- crew were always needed, men were lost in raids frequently enough. Hornigold likely wouldn't blink twice at another body on board, but he trusted Ed well enough to accept anyone he'd bring on. That said, he wasn't about to bring anyone along without vetting them first, and he still had work to do... complications or not.

Ed exhales a tired breath, looking around him to see who might be listening in, then turns back to the other man and nods slightly. "You any good with that thing?" he asks, regarding the sword, his feet slowly creeping him back in the stranger's direction. "Got a job that needs doing. Might get messy, but bloodshed needs to be kept to a minimum, or we're all fuckin' dead."

It's mercy to Izzy's ears. An opportunity to prove himself is all he needs, and he nods as he listens before pulling himself up to his feet.

"I'm very good, sir."

He isn't afraid to be secure in his skill. He's worked harder, grafted longer, had more to prove. It's payed off in spades and he can, and will, get better. Handshakes have only recently come into fashion but he's found it a concept he rather likes, and so extends his hand to take.

"Izzy Hands, at your service."

As Ed moves closer, it becomes obvious just how much of a difference in height there is between them, but Ed doesn't comment- in their line of work even smaller-bodied men can be very successful. Not every job requires a man with the muscle of a rhinoceros; frequently the smaller and quicker faired the best in a fight. Of course Ed is hoping there won't be any fighting, today.

"Edward Teach." he responds, grasping Izzy’s hand with a friendly but firm shake. "Walk with me. I'll tell you the details on the way." he mutters, giving his new acquaintance a clap on the shoulder before leading him onward.

It isn't a long trek, heading back to one of the various pubs on the island. Many of them acted as fronts while the real business was conducted in the back, and this one was no different. Ed explains that Hornigold expects several barrels of goods traded for no less than a certain price, and how the prices were always lowered when he sends other men in his place, his rival's men having less to fear from an underling. It was disrespectful, and Ed had left riled up without making the trade at all.

As they approach the business, he reminds Izzy the rule about bloodshed, warns him that such things could compromise the state of the Republic. They may need to defend themselves, use a bit of threat, but no one can die in Hornigold's name.

"This is it," he finishes, stopping before the door, "Ready?"

"Ready," with a firm nod and his hand on his sword. He keeps it casual but ready, like a gunslinger about to saunter into a saloon.

Is he really ready? Not in the slightest, but this is his only chance and if he blows it with someone as important to Hornigold as this guy seems to be, then he's untouchable. Word gets around fast, he's sure, and a back mark on him like that would barely get him a job shoveling shit in this place. So he has to be ready. He has to be.

Edward's assessment of him was correct. He is small, but he's quick and nimble. Knows the length of his arm and the weapon it wields, and he's harder to catch than your typical muscle bound goon. No killing, fine, he would rather not. But a little swordplay is definitely on offer. He's hoping that will be intimidating enough to prove his worth.

Izzy takes a small breath and lets it puff out his nose. Another short, sharp nod and in they go.

Inside, the scene hasn't changed much from the way Ed had left it. The blokes are still there, laughing over their drinks and a game of cards. Upon entering, one looks and nudges his buddy who laughs even harder before clearing his throat.

"You again? Remember how to speak, did you, mate?"

Edward's expression sours the minute the other men are within his line of sight again. He can feel himself already on edge, like a wild dog ready to bite, his shoulders raised and stomach lurching. Then one of them has the audacity to address him, and Ed feels every muscle in his body tense, ready to tear out their stomachs, and has to take a grounding breath to keep himself still.

He casts Izzy a brief glance out of the side of his eyes, then takes a careful step forward. The men are already chuckling to one another in reaction, and Ed finds his hand hovering shakily over the handle of his gun.

"An agreement was set between Hornigold and Jennings." he hisses angrily. "The price is five hundred pieces of eight. No less. And I should raise it for wasting my fucking time."

"Mm," the fellow grunts in response before absently spitting to the side.

"And you just went to go and make sure, did you. Come back with a pipsqueak to back you up?"

"Watch your fucking tone," Izzy interjects and then rapidly realizes he's just pulled the attention of the room onto himself. Who isn't a diplomat in any sense of the word and has no idea what he's doing.

Time to fake it till he makes it. His hand tightens on his sword, ready. A threat in every sense of the word.

"You have every idea who you're dealing with, yeah. You try to cheat our captain and it's the last thing you will ever do. You're lucky we're even fucking talking to you."

The men scoff at the threat, at the way bith Edward and Izzy’s hands grip their weapons. These men believe they have nothing to fear, and why should they? They're older, larger, and they outnumber them. But they've also been drinking, and vastly underestimate the young men in front of them.

"Right, we're done here." one of the men grunts, and as he draws his weapon so too do the rest. Edward doesn’t miss a beat, his knife pulled quickly from his belt, held at the ready. His eyes are bright and bloodthirsty, ready for this fight since the moment he'd first encountered them, but he doesn't strike first... he knows better.

"Don't give a fuck who sent you, piss off before we have a problem."

Izzy draws his blade just after Ed, taking the cue and moving into battle ready.

No killing, he'd said. As little bloodshed as possible. Fine. That means he needs to get in close and fast.

"Oh, I think we already have a problem."

This time he doesn't wait for a cue. This time it just feels right. Reckless, maybe, yeah, but he knows the length of his blade like he knows his own hand. One good step forward puts him at exactly the range he needs to slash clean the pendant hanging at the closest man's throat, which drops from it's severed cord with a loud thump.

His hand doesn't tremble, his sword is kept very still, pointed at the goon's throat with all the intensity in his whole body.

Make another move. He dares you.

It's enough to make the man freeze in place, his eyes wide in alarm. It's also enough of a distraction for Ed to plow forward into a second goon, swatting a sword to the side with his knife and tackling him against a wall while the third of them stands in stunned silence. He could attack now, push Ed off of his companion, but suddenly these men find they aren't exactly up for bloodshed themselves. Negotiations just took a turn.

"Five hundred pieces," the man says quickly, and Ed snarls, "Six."

He nods, resheathes his weapon and rushes to the back room. Ed doesn't move from the place where he stands, the tip of his blade tickling beneath the jaw of the man he's pressed up against, toying with him, his expression deranged.

He isn't a new hand, this goon pinned under Edward, and he knows the look of a mad dog when he sees one. Today, he decides, is not the day he wants to die. He stays very still, glancing nervously between Ed and his blade, hands up in surrender.

Izzy keeps the other where he is, the look on his face not dissimilar save for the undercurrent of shining hunger.

No one speaks a word until the other man returns and dumps the sack of coin over their interrupted card game.

"Count it out," Izzy says, not taking his eyes off his hostage for a second.

"It's all there, I promise-"

"Your promises are shit. I said count." As though he does this all the time. As though he knows a dodgy trader when he sees one. And, to his credit, he does.

It takes ages, but the man counts every last piece. He's ten short. It is quickly rectified.

"Six hundred.. there. All good, it's all there, you can go now. Tell your captain we sends our regards'n all them lovely tidings. Always a pleasure doing business with'em."

"Yeah, a pleasure."

Only then does Izzy round to the side to collect the money, eyes still trained on his captive. It's heavy as fuck this bag, but he cradles it against his body, not trusting that they won't just spring to kill them both once he puts down his weapon or Ed turns away from his own concentration. As he's got the coin, Izzy starts back first, never taking his sword down or turning his back to them.

Ed himself doesn't stop toying with his own captive until Izzy sets it right. To say he's impressed by the stranger's assistance would be an understatement, but he's also overwhelmingly grateful, and frankly feels lucky to have come across such an asset. Izzy Hands wanted tenure on a ship, Ed will grant it no questions asked.

Ed eases off the goon he had pinned, knife and eyes both trained on him as he backs out of the establishment with Izzy and their prize.

"Your cargo is waiting at the docks. I suggest you get a move on it. Our captain doesn't like to be kept waiting." Ed growls-- It had been a trade, after all.

Waiting until they're well outside of the building to let his guard down, Ed's demeanor changes drastically. It isn't just relief, it's pure fucking joy. Ed claps a hand on each side of Izzy’s shoulders, grinning down at him with wide eyes. "That was fucking incredible!" he exclaims, offering a hand then to help carry the bag. "C'mon, let's get this back to the ship and take our cut."

"We get a cut?" Izzy asks in reply after giving a crow of victory and sheathing his sword, bright eyed and bushy tailed, veins racing with adrenaline. He can't believe that just happened. He can't believe he just pulled that off! He had been so nervous.

The bag is, reasonably, way too heavy for him to carry, but the booty had been separated into six smaller drawstrings of 100 coins each and bundled in. He motions for them to stop so he can open the sack and quickly tie the ends of four bags together, then offer them to Ed (with a grunt) for him to sling over his shoulders or carry in a more balanced way. It's honestly a fucking miracle he was able to pick all this up.

The praise glows warm in his heart as he shoulders the other two bags. Honestly, it wasn't that much different from watching his father negotiate back in Liverpool. If this is what being a pirate is like then.. yeah. Yeah, this is the life for him.

As they walk he can't keep himself from smiling, clinking merrily with the occasional laugh that just burbles up and out of him. He's riding high.

"You were incredible in there, Edward. The way you pinned that man, I've never seen someone move so fast."

"Always," he scoffs, standing by to offload half of the bags from his new companion, slinging them similarly over his shoulder. "A cut of every raid too." he continues, eying Izzy curiously. He's too experienced with his sword to never have done this sort of work before, but the questions tell Ed it wasn't on his type of ship. the military style sword was starting to make sense, Ed has to wonder if he'd been disgraced.

"Hornigold only sends his best on personal errands." Ed replies proudly, his chest high. "Stick with me and there will be many more in your future."

Edward looks to Izzy, in this moment, like the very picture of everything he aspires to be. And then, so easy breezy in his words, is the promise of more. It is absolutely captivating.

He would very much like there to be more.

"I'd like that."

With his entire being. He thought maybe this little test would be gratis, but Ed places them on equal footing immediately, and that in juxtapose against the hard pecked order of his background, is so extremely, immediately fulfilling. No wonder Ed was sent on this mission, look at him. He's incredible. As radiant as the sun.

"What's he like? Hornigold. Do you really think he'll take on just like that?"

Ed gives Izzy another friendly pat on the shoulder, chuckling at his reply. Why wouldn't he like that? Unless he was some kind of fucking idiot, anyone would jump at the chance to be among Hornigold's ranks.

"He's tough," Ed says, honest and blunt, "But he knows his shit. And he trusts me, I'll put in a good word." he smirks, leading them on.

"Is there anything else you might, uh... need to know?" he asks, because he hasn't shaken the thought of his new companion being a bit inexperienced. Ed doesn't like jumping to conclusions, but if anyone's going to believe his word about Izzy, the least he can do is properly prepare him. "You know, about the job."

There's a good reason that thought hasn't shaken out of Ed, and that's because it is completely true. That much is glaringly apparent, now, and Izzy is suddenly very aware.

He presses his lips thin and stops the pace, nervous and, admittedly, a bit ashamed. Had he really been so transparent? Just like that? Is he made of glass or something?

Honestly is the best policy, but he barely knows this man. If he speaks the truth would he be seen as untrustworthy? Would the thing he's just managed to gain be ripped away just like that? Probably with his life, too.

Gotta say something, though.

Izzy swallows. He feels sick. Suddenly the ground is very interesting to look at.

"I've never served..p.. I've never served pirates before. Fought them.. not served. I don't, um. I don't know how you do things."

So his instincts were right then. No surprise... Ed could be brilliant at times, this was just evidence of the way his mind works. Still, Edward Teach had not always been a pirate, and this man has proven useful enough. He imagines even moreso, if he knows the way the military moves and how to avoid capture. No, Izzy doesn't have to worry about the offer being taken away, Ed would have a use for him one way or another.

"Tell me why." Ed replies, his voice more firm than it had been, "Why do you want to be a pirate? If I like your answer, I'll tell you everything I know."

It's a hefty offer from the gatekeeper to a new life. The weight of promise sits as heavy in him as the gold on his shoulders.

Words are important. The words themselves, but more importantly, the way you use them. His father had told him that when he was a boy and Izzy has never forgotten.

He works his jaw for a moment, looking for what he wants to say, tick in his cheek flaring as he clenches. When he looks up to meet Ed's eyes, they are full of fire.

"Because I fucking hate the crown. And I would see every last one of them burn before I went back to slave under The Jack."

There's a silent scoff, and then Ed nudges at him with an elbow while shifting the weight of the gold in his hands. "Good enough for me, man. Come on..." he mutters, leading them along to the docks where they'd met. Ither crew members are trickling by, some to load or unload various stock, but Ed doesn't pay them any mind and nor do they. He leads Izzy onboard, making a straight line for the cabin where they can sit and sort their coin before Hornigold's return, giving them a bit of privacy for Ed to answer any other questions Izzy may have.

There, inside the small cabin, Ed sets the bags upon a table and unties one of them, plucking out a few coins off the top, his share. He halves it, and holds his hand out to Izzy. "Your cut." he offers. It's half of his own, because he knows he wouldn't have done this at all without the other man's help.

"I'd say we have another hour or two before Captain returns, so... we have time to kill. I assume you know your way around a boat? You obviously know your way with a sword, so where are the gaps?"

Where are the gaps, that's a good question. He doesn't know what he doesn't know.

Izzy plays with the coins he's been given and savors the feeling of them, heavy and real in his hand. His first booty, rightfully earned, as a pirate. Fairly shared, even. He would have accepted a single coin.

He makes a note of that. He shouldn't accept less for himself, and Edward is a kind person at heart.

"Pirates have codes, don't they?"

Izzy would like to know them so he feels like he can settle himself without making any major cock up.

"And I'd like to know the structure of the crew. Who the quartermaster is'n all that. Who I should report to and who to give berth. Oh-"

It turns out he has several questions.

"Raids. And tactics, I should like to know those."

Plenty to discuss for the hours waiting for Hornigold to return. He doesn't ask much about Ed himself, if anything at all. It's quite private and really, it's irrelevant to the moment as Izzy begins to sew himself a framework in which to exist. His small pack of belongings was laid in the corner by the door but he feels as though it might have been unnecessary. If he's starting again, really starting again, all he needs are the clothes on his back, his sword, and someone to trust.

He tells himself that he will dump it over later, but that little satchel stays with him for many years to come. A reminder of where he came from and who he will never be again.

"One thing at a time..." Ed laughs, pulling a chair aside for himself and gesturing for Izzy to take the other. Once he does, Ed takes the time to explain it all casually; the code, the hierarchy, raids-- at least how he deals with them, all of it, including a walk through of notable members of the crew and their various temperaments, at least until Hornigold's return and their introduction is made.

The first few weeks move similarly, Ed squirreling time away from his duties to spend with Izzy, checking in and making sure he's clear on his own expectations. A failure on Izzy’s part would be a failure on Ed's, and that makes the time spent with him a worthwhile investment. Luckily there aren't many tradeships crossing their route, so it gives the new pirate the chance to acclimate himself with their ship and crew without the concerns of a raid. Of course, a pirate's life is a fast one, and the time eventually does come, the whole ship abuzz when their target is spotted and their course set.

Ed doesn't bother with much of a pep-talk before they're over the side of the ship. Izzy doesn't need one, he thinks. He's capable, he's served the crown and fought more gruesome men than a few hardy sailors, hasn't he? That's Edward's impression, anyway.

The air smells like gunpowder and it's difficult to hear surrounded by screaming men and the clashing of metal, but this is Ed in his element, and he moves like he was raised from hell itself, pushing men from their feet and pressing his blade through their palms.

This sort of quick call to action is fire in the veins. His very first raid. Izzy has never felt more alive.

As a boy, he had been terrified of the concept of pirates. His family's livelihood depended entirely on the mercy of avoiding them, and so tales of these wretched demons haunting the open waters were the stuff of nightmares. It was easy to hate them without seeing them as men. It was easier then, as a kingsman, to kill them. Just dirty animals being put down for their own rotten good in self defense (and by active pursuit).

Here, in this raid, suddenly the tables are turned. They are the demons here to take what they like and kill anyone and everyone in their way. You would think that he would find it difficult to see an innocent man and kill him for his riches, but whatever bank of sand it is that holds back the emotion stays in place. The fact of the matter is, if he doesn't kill, if he doesn't help, he or his crew could die as a result. And out here? Your crew and captain are all you have.

So it's easy.

It's also easy to follow Edward into the fray, never straying too far, keen to learn and watch his back. Izzy notices immediately that whilst Ed is an absolute savage of a fighter, he opts out of every killing blow that presents itself. He takes the eye, not the brain. The hand over a heart. Not ideal but certainly a choice.

Cannon fire is thunderous from The Ranger behind them, a team of men having stayed back to support the boarding party. They never aim for the deck, that would risk their own, but they aim high above at the foremast. Once a ship looses that, they are finished no matter the outcome.

Izzy loses track of the number of times he is almost killed in this fight, alone. Three times Edward parries a blade meant for Izzy's back or neck. Three times Izzy pivots downwards just in time to spear a man through the throat. Another two are his finishing a man pinned by Ed's dagger and nearly takes their last ditch effort to stay alive. He kills them, too, unblinking with no remorse expect for the blood that soaks his old linen shirt. Ruined, for certain. It feels like a whirling dervish like this, picking up where the other leaves off, covering and advancing in kind. Perhaps they are. Exhilaration in bliss. In victory.

There is a loud, cracking scream of the mast shattering and falling to the right, and cheers explode from their gunners. The vessel's captain, if he is even still alive, has no choice but to surrender. A Dutch merchant ship laden with spices and fabric, they will eat very well tonight, indeed.

When it is all said and done, Ben stands victorious over his gathered crew with a puffed chest. Hands on his hips he laughs before picking up a bottle of champagne they had found in the belly of the Maarseveen and shakes it. With a flick of his thumb, the cork shoots out and he sprays his boys with a cheerful (but unhinged) cackle, sips, and then sends the bottle around. The Maarseveen is anchored and left to float like a bloated carcass. A speedy getaway is made, and the party of a good day's work rages long into the night.

Not wanting to miss out, Izzy stays, but eventually excuses himself below to wash the blood from his clothes and body, promising to return with rum when he's decent. He looks like a beast and dried blood is so very uncomfortable. He sighs as he scrubs the fabric and fingers a small hole in the material. He'd had some close calls today and this shirt does nothing for protection. He tells himself that once he's saved up he'll buy something better when they next dock. That this went well and he should be proud of himself, not let all the little failings catch his attention and circle around and around play by play. How to improve for next time. What worked, what didn't. There's a lot to think about.

Sigh. There's probably no point in even trying to save this piece of shit shirt, to be honest. If only he had another.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject