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Corrandion, Corridane
I am JT, Ringer, nutjob, and archer, in that order. I like animated films, epic films, book films, movie music, folk music, and the occasional random other thing. I make friends by accident and like it that way...

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29 July 2010

Chapter Sixteen

This is one of my favorite chapters. And no, this does not reflect my opinion of the real Christopher.

Chapter XVI

Having left his men behind in a vacant house, Captain Joseph had decided to see what news he could pick up at the market of the little town he had stopped in. As he strolled through the stalls, looking for cheap provisions, he chanced to hear one of the vendors nearby lean over to his neighbor and say “There’s to be an execution in Madrid very soon.” Dashing over, Joseph slipped into Spanish and asked “Who’s to be executed, and when?”
The fruit seller answered “Some good-for- nothing American Captain who calls himself Dameon Mellino. I heard from my cousin Sergio, who is a deckhand on the ship of Cristobol Coinhara, that they shall get him hanged as soon as possible after they reach the capital.” On hearing this, Joseph dashed away again towards the nearest inn. Noticing several horses tied in front, he pulled out his sword and slashed the rope holding a big black to the rail; jumped on top of it, and rode away toward the house that his men were hiding in.
Helplessly watching out of an upstairs window, Mark, whose ankle had healed fully a few days before their capture, loudly exclaimed to the others “That was our father! He just ran in, stole the Captain’s horse, and rode off with it! But it seems like a strange move to ride back into town again.” About half an hour later, Joseph rode back into view again, stopping this time and waiting until ten more men arrived on the scene. Narrating this to the others, who were leaning against the far wall, and couldn’t see out the window, Mark shouted “He’s back! Maybe he realized something. No! Why’d he stop! He’s got an angry mob chasing him now! No, wait, he’s telling them something! They’re all climbing on horses too! They’re riding away with him! They’re going toward the capital!” As the last man left, Mark collapsed on the floor and lay staring glumly at the ceiling, his gunshot wound from the day of the capture making it hard to breathe. Being familiar with his twin’s instantaneous changes of mood, Matt walked over and asked “What are you so mad about, Mark?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong! Those lying Spaniards!” Mark screamed, fighting for breath. “He’s misinformed, and now he thinks he’s saving us! I’m going down there to see if I can’t hit that man this time around!”
“No, you’re not, because if you go he’ll kill you. He and his men have just noticed that their horses are missing.” David said, prompted by loud yells from downstairs. A second later several Spaniards burst in on them, exclaiming “Don’t worry, Sir, these little birds haven’t flown the coop!” This brought another yell from downstairs. “Well, string ‘em together and send ‘em down, quick as you like!”
The Spaniards grabbed their prisoners and tied them together in a line, pulling them down the stairs. Captain Cristobol Coinhara was waiting for them at the foot of the stairway. “What was the plan?! What did you do to tell your friends to steal our horses?!” Mark, who was at the front of the line, took this calmly, then, quite unfazed, he replied “They aren’t our friends. They’re an American gang who captured us in Boston, but we escaped and stowed away aboard the ship you found us on. They must have been watching us pretty closely, because they knew we wanted to get to Madrid.”
“But if you stowed away, how come you were in control of the ship at the time of your capture?” Coinhara asked Dameon. Catching on to Mark’s story, Dameon quickly replied “The Captain and crew were killed by hostile natives on a trip to get fresh water. When the crew uncovered us and found that they had two former captains aboard, they accepted us quite easily.”
As Dameon concluded, Coinhara announced “This is no time for jokes or lies, as you are at my mercy. I am inclined to execute you now, without formalities, but I may put it off if you beg for mercy.” “Don’t worry,” Mark retorted “We won’t trouble you about it; since we’re sure you haven’t got any!” “Insolent rouge!” The Spaniard exclaimed “You’ll be the first to go! Take him away!” Two tall men holding cocked pistols jumped up and sliced the rope holding Mark to the rest, pulling him out the back door.
Their captor then turned to the remaining prisoners and said, his anger rising, “Now, let’s try this again. If you beg it of me, I may keep you alive until we get to the capital, and hang you there. If not, I see no reason to bring you any farther. Nothing’s happened yet? Maybe that boy’s trying to tell them he‘s changed his mind. Well, too bad. Ah, there they go.” He remarked as two shots rang out. “One down, eight to go.”
At this, Matt broke down and screamed. “You’ll die for this, you evil fiend! You never noticed when the Devil took up residence with you because you don’t care! You like the thought of Hell! You’ll never earn anything else!”
Suddenly, a bodyless voice filled the dining room, echoing off the walls: “DONT WORRY YOURSELF, MY FRIEND. YOUR BROTHER LIVES.” Startled, Coinhara shouted “Come down and show yourself, spirit!” Jumping up, he ran out the back door to ask his men what had happened. Matt and his friends could do nothing but wonder what was going to happen to them now. A minute later, a yell followed by a loud clunk was heard from just outside the door. The ensuing scuffle was narrated by loud yells coming from both fighters. Fifteen minutes later, as the prisoners sat dejectedly on the stairs, Mark walked in, with two black eyes and pinching his nose, but otherwise well and quite obviously alive, as shown by the laugh he let out when he saw the rest. “Did you think I was dead? Well, of course you did. But it was funny, hearing that man shout at me after I called down the chimney. Heeheehee.” The sight of him cracking up like this, something he rarely did or had reason to do, caused everyone else to join in. “Oh, I forgot something,” Mark added “I borrowed his knife. You do want to escape and give father some peace of mind? But we’re going to have to run, literally. Oh, and one last thing. I didn’t kill that man like I said I would, so let’s go!” He said all this as he untied his companions, and when they were ready, he ran out the door yelling “Last one to Madrid’s a cracked egg!”
Five minutes after they had left, Cristobol Coinhara stumbled inside again and shouted “You lazy bums! You let them just walk out?! Hurry and find some horses! Steal them if you have to!” His crew immediately began fighting to get out the door as he slumped over onto the nearest table and called “More brandy, Bartender, and hurry!”

22 July 2010

A Fresh Story

All I can say is don't expect a pirate to be a nice guy. This story was originally written by the Scarlet Pimpernel


Chapter I
Captain William McNeal

People will talk about Black Beard and Captain Kid and many others. But there is one most have forgotten: Captain William McNeal. The reason people stayed far away from him is because he was Irish and had a typical Irish temper. His ship, the Centaur, stolen from Captain James Norington, was an English military vessel that was very fast. Moreover, it was said to be the most powerful ship in all the seven seas. William McNeal’s goal was to go to an island called Richontor. Whoever went on the sand of that place was never seen again.
“You want me ship to sail to that bloody island and discover what’s go’n on!” shouted McNeal
“Aye that’s what I’m talk’n about.” Duvall, the first mate of the famous captain John Horner, replied, in a level tone.
“Gory, you must be crazy.” said McNeal with an expression somewhere between one of anger and astonishment.
“William, what I hear is that there is some booty hidden there. Your share will be eighty percent, if you get it” Duvall repeated.
“Well if that’s the case, I agree. Gory! Eighty percent! And no one knows how much is there!” said the overwhelmed captain.
“Do we have a deal, then?” Duvall asked, anxious to be sure that McNeal would not reconsider this rash decision to sail to such a mysterious place. But, he thought, he must have spoken too soon after all; McNeal was even now voicing doubts.
“Wait just one moment, mate! How is it that you have heard about this loot, when all the world’s been told no one ever returned alive from that place?!”
Jack Duvall hated William McNeal. With all his heart he wished never to see him alive again. He had been hoping against hope that McNeal would not catch the slip. But he had. Desperate measures were called for. Drawing a pistol from his belt and pointing it at McNeal, Duvall said slowly “One step closer would be the end of you, William McNeal. I’ve been looking for you throughout the seven seas, and now I’ve got you, you won’t slip away.”
Completely surprised, the Irish captain exclaimed “What have I ever done to you?! Who are you, anyway?!”
In the same low, menacing voice, Duvall replied “If every man who had ever lost a brother or a friend to you were hunting you, McNeal, a thousand men would be coming down on this ship at this moment. Count yourself fortunate that there is only one. Now, we were speaking of treasure.”
Glancing at the pistol to avoid meeting Duvall’s gaze, McNeal replied “I reckon I’ll have to go along, then. But remember, my share is eighty percent.”
“Yes. If you survive. Only a brave and cunning captain could survive Richontor. But I must say, I don’t believe you’re one of those.”
“You don’t, eh?” McNeal replied, growing more furious by the second. Suddenly, there was a pistol in his hand and he had fired, sending the bullet clean through Duvall’s own gun and causing it to explode in his hand.
Letting the pistol butt fall from his burned hand, Duvall screamed “You’ve ruined me! What good am I to anybody now! John Horner will be after you for this!”
McNeal had now become calm once more, for the first time since Duvall had told him of the treasure. “If, as you say, a thousand men are hunting me, one more will make little difference. Men!”
At the last word, several men on watch on the deck came running into the cabin. Gesturing toward Duvall, McNeal said dismissively “Keep this man under guard. And pay him for that hand.”
As the men left, holding Duvall by both arms, McNeal sat down at the ornate desk in his cabin. Looking at a chart he had been drawing throughout his wide-spread travels, he noticed a new place, situated in the Pacific Ocean, which had been drawn and labeled by a different hand. Then he remembered the moment when, Duvall, while making his offer, had bent down and drawn that spot on the map, to point out where it lay.
“Ah… That man knows more of the place than he would care to tell me, but he will be a help to me after all.” thought McNeal, leaning back in his chair and gazing up at the ceiling of his cabin, dreaming of the untold riches of Richontor and scheming to get not just eighty percent, but all of it.

15 July 2010

Chapter Fifteen

We return to Michael, who is in trouble. Tell me when he deflates.

Chapter XV

Three weeks later, a bustling African port

After nearly a month alone in the African wilderness, Michael was relieved to run into some form of civilization. He was so exhausted that he felt as if he had died of it at least once already during the trip, but had been brought back to life with one command in his memory: Walk! Walk! Walk!
He didn’t look too impressive either: definitely not as if he had once had a small part in a navy. He had left his supply barrel behind two days ago: the rope had snapped after too much traveling over rough terrain. Michael had begun rolling the barrel in front of him, but it had been too hard to keep going the entire way with it like that, so he threw it away and filled his pockets with as much as he could of what was left and proceeded on his way.
Michael was sporting an impressive tan, but his clothes were in shreds, his hat was gone, and even his hair looked bad. When it had gotten too long in front, he had been forced to reach up and slash it with his knife: it was still out of line.
As he staggered into the city, he could smell roast beef coming from somewhere not far off. “There’s an inn nearby, good one too.” Following his nose, he soon came upon a long two- story building with several rowdy men in front who were waving tankards and singing a tune called “What shall we do with the drunken sailor!” at the top of their lungs.
Michael turned toward the front door, ignoring the men, and before he could react, he heard one exclaim “Well, here’s a prime specimen!” This was followed a second later by a rope descending over him, trapping his arms. The slavers abruptly got up and marched off, pulling Michael along behind them. Michael felt better when he heard them say “– heard Lord Dampish needs a new servant. This boy looks just right. We could probably fetch a few hundred if we hawk him in the London market, though.”
“Perfect,” Michael thought to himself “I’m headed to London; though I would much rather travel as a passenger, instead of a piece of property to be sold at auction.” He was soon tied to a long line of innocent Natives who were, like him, “Good specimens who were bound to bring a few hundred in the London market.”
Michael did get bit of a laugh when they passed by another inn just as the owner was emptying his garbage. In a clear show of contempt for the slave trade, the Innkeeper turned and unloaded his rubbish in the slaver’s faces. Michael chuckled a bit too loudly. at this, so one of the slaver’s assistants grabbed the rope and dashed off, leaving Michael and the Natives gasping and stumbling.
When they reached the dock, the man stopped and called to the nearest ship “Goods for the hold!” Immediately, some unseen men on deck began lowering down a large sling of the type used to haul horses aboard. The men on the dock roughly seized Michael and shoved him into the sling, thereby pulling all the other “goods” in on top of him. Michael struggled to breathe as he was hoisted up over the deck and lowered into the hold. As soon as the sling landed, a bald man with an ugly scar across his cheek and a large whip in his hand untied each prisoner, inspected them, and led them off to the oar they were going to pull. When he reached Michael, he said “So, a street beggar, eh, well, we’ll put you right. Eh, wot’s this!” he exclaimed as he went through his inspection. Pulling the knives out from Michael’s belt, he said “Little boys can’t be trusted with knives. They might hurt their delicate little selves!”
Michael, who was taller than the man and strong, retorted “Look at yourself, midget! Who’s the smaller one here?” At this, the man led Michael to an oar at the very back of the ship and said “Let’s see how well you do pulling an oar by yourself!” As he was locked in, Michael retorted “At the least, it’ll only make me stronger, then I can mash you in properly, potato face!” As the bald man turned to walk back up to the front of the ship, Michael reached across as silently as he could and slid one of his knives out of the man’s belt.. The chains grated loudly on the wood as he relaxed, so he hurriedly drove his prize into the floor beneath his bench.
After Michael was captured, the crew spent two more days hunting down prizes to fill out their load. Finally, every oar had two men attached, except Michael’s, which they left alone on the advice of Scarface, the bald man. When the last one was locked in, Scarface gave the order: “Anchor’s up! Back water!”

12 July 2010

Chapter Fourteen

I inserted this chapter to explain later references.

Chapter XIV

It was only two days after the events of the previous chapter. Dameon’s mood had, unfortunately, failed to improve since he had reestablished his authority over the crew on the island of coconuts. Several of the men had continued to complain, causing Dameon to have them put in irons and confined to the lower deck.
The weather was doing nothing to help the situation either. The sky was hazy, and there was a light drizzle falling. “At least we’re hidden from our enemies, but if we did happen to meet any ship, we’d be in trouble. Our fuses won’t light.”
A moment later, David strode up beside him. “Shall I beat to quarters, prepare for boarders?” he asked, putting a hand to his hat.
“No use. There’s no way of knowing if anyone is out there.”
“Then I may light the lanterns?”
“You are free to do so, though I doubt they will help much in this weather.”
Saluting, David turned away to light the storm lanterns and hang them on the ends of the ship.
Although he was reasonably sure that they were out in the open area of the ocean, and in no immediate danger of running aground, the fog had prompted Dameon to begin to second-guess his desire for speed. Accordingly, he ordered the sails reduced. This was done quickly and quietly; Dameon had established long since that he preferred a quiet deck.
After a quick visit to Gabriel at the helm to confirm their course, Dameon decided to return to his cabin, leaving orders that he be called at the first sign of any change. Shutting the door as softly as he could, Dameon strode across his cabin to the single wooden chair in the room, lifting it and putting it down closer to his desk, and then finally placing himself in it.
Glancing over at the bunk, where Mark lay, silently bearing the pain of the injury he had brought upon himself, Dameon inquired “Any change yet?”
Mark, who was on his side, facing the wall of the cabin, sounded as if he were gritting his teeth as he replied. “Much better, thank you, but it still hurts really bad sometimes, like now.”
When Mark had finished, Dameon stretched his legs under his desk and replied “Glad to hear that you’re improving. The situation on deck is bad. It’s raining, so we’ll have to face boarders if we meet any enemies.”
“Hand to hand combat! Exciting!” Mark exclaimed, turning on his back to lift his head off the bunk.
“It isn’t all you seem to think it is.” Dameon replied, beginning to rise from his chair. Just at that moment, the door opened and Luke entered the cabin. He was dripping.
“Father’s compliments, Captain, and the situation on deck has changed.” He announced, exiting immediately.
Dameon, who was already standing, promptly rose and left the cabin himself. Once on deck, he was met by David, who remarked “The fog has begun to lift, and the lookout reckons that he has seen a ship approaching us.”
After a short pause, Dameon replied “We can’t be caught off guard. Prepare for boarders.”
With another salute, David left.
The job was finished nearly ten minutes later, and David came marching back to conform with ceremony. “Boarding nettings rigged and men stationed along the sides. Is there much else we can do?”
“I don’t believe so. Not in weather like this?”
At this, both men fell silent.
After five tense minutes, the massive prow of an enormous warship broke through the light fog only feet from the side of Dameon’s own ship. “He knows we’re here.” Dameon whispered to David, who was still standing beside him. “I’ll return in a moment.” With that, Dameon turned away, back toward his cabin. Once there, he turned to Mark, who was now sitting up.
“We have an enemy alongside. As you’re not fully healed yet, I expect you to stay in here and wait for me to return.” Producing a pistol, Dameon handed it to Mark. “If anyone tries to come in, fire.” Then, Dameon returned to the deck.
Almost instantly after Dameon returned, he heard the crash as the new ship collided with his own, followed by loud slicing sounds which announced that the enemy had begun to slice the netting impeding their progress. It was only minutes later that hundreds of yelling Spaniards began swarming the deck of Dameon’s ship.
Dameon hardly had time for one call to his men before he was fighting for his life. Saber drawn, he rushed upon the nearest group of enemies, laying several low with quick thrusts. Over the din of combat, he could barely hear David crying “Come to your end, you fiends!” and Gabriel shouting “Five! You haven’t had enough yet, eh?!”
After twenty minutes of hard fighting, which felt like an hour to Dameon, who was standing in the middle of a circle of dead men, fending off still more, he heard his cabin door creak open. “Mark!” he thought “How could I forget that that injury was driving him crazy? He wouldn’t stay in there away from the battle if he was tied down!”
Turning to run toward Mark to defend him, Dameon could only watch as Mark knelt down, steadied the pistol, took aim, and fired at a tall Spaniard wearing an Admiral’s hat who had just appeared on deck. Before Dameon could reach Mark, he heard the sound of a second gun firing. Turning for no more than an instant, he saw the Spanish Admiral, still standing motionless, with a smoking pistol in his hand, facing Mark’s direction.
With a shout of despair, Dameon continued running to where Mark lay, stretched out in front of the cabin. After a few more minutes of fighting, Dameon heard the Spanish Admiral shouting “Stop! Sostinier! (hold!) Sostenier su fuego! (hold your fire!) he added to the men of his crew who had drawn pistols. After a short pause, he continued “The Americans must give up their arms! If they do so, they will be my prisoners, and may have their injuries treated! If they do not, they will all be killed!”
These were far more reasonable terms than Dameon had hoped to hear. Relieved, he laid his sword down, kicking it across the deck toward the Spanish Admiral, who picked it up. Seeing this, the rest of Dameon’s crew laid down their arms. Suddenly, they were each set upon by several Spaniards and bound. Striding over to where Dameon was standing over the body of Mark, the Spanish Admiral said quietly “I said that only to save this boy, to be my servant. The rest of you have no hope.”
A moment later, on the Admiral’s orders, several men raised Mark from the deck and carried him down to the surgeon’s station. The rest of the Spanish crew immediately began transferring Dameon and his crew to the lower decks of their Admiral’s flagship

05 July 2010

Chapter Twelve

Chapter XII

Dawn the next day found Dameon steering his ship toward an island, hoping to give his men a rest from life on board ship. He had been getting reports of mutinous grumbling for days before this. As soon as they landed an hour later half the crew immediately jumped overboard and fled into the trees.
“Be warned!” Dameon called after them “Anyone who isn’t back aboard when we leave will be left to the mercy of the coconuts!”
“Oh really, you don’t expect them to respond to that, do you?” David asked “They were about to mutiny.”
“I know that.” Dameon replied “That’s why we’re leaving now. Sooner or later, every one of them will be tired of coconuts, each other, or both. Meanwhile, we sail away and leave them behind. Problem solved. Tell the men to cut the cable.”
As David set the men to work on the cable, Dameon strolled off and began chatting with John, who had just emerged from Dameon’s own cabin.
“You haven’t been stealing from my cabin, have you?” Dameon inquired of his son.
“It wasn’t me,” John replied “It was the crew. Every man who jumped overboard. I thought they were planning to attack you, so I followed them so as to be able rouse the loyal men to your aid. A few minutes later, we landed and they rushed out and overboard, apparently carrying nothing. But I ran in, and a quick check around showed that the mutineers have ransacked your cabin, taking all the maps, equipment, and the entire contents of the arms locker.”
Dameon stood stunned by this news for a moment, but then recovered, saying “No wonder they were all coming from that direction.” Whirling around, he bellowed “Belay that order! New orders, change your clothes, and get someone to repair the anchor cable! Move!”
An hour later, Dameon leaped overboard disguised as one of his own crew men. When he found the men, he saw that they had just started a fire. Stepping up, he exclaimed “You aren’t about to burn the Captain’s maps, are you?”
“Why shouldn’t we? The one holding the maps replied “We don’t need them, and this is the perfect revenge on that fool who calls himself our Captain.”
At that, Dameon steeped forward and fired. Stepping forward to take the maps from the dead man, he turned and announced “I am the Captain. If you men hand over the rest of my things, you’ll get off lightly, if not, I told you that you were at the mercy of the coconuts.”
“You forget, we have all the weapons.” The men replied, drawing theirs.
“Yes, but I have ripe coconuts.” Dameon quickly responded “And an attack from the rear. Touché.” At that moment, several of the the men at the back of the group began screeching in agony and hopping around. As they turned to run, they were met by a perfectly timed coconut broadside led by David.
“I must admit, it worked better than I thought it would.” David remarked to Gabriel as they searched the men afterwards.
“Oh look it’s the Captain’s compass; I bet he’ll appreciate this. And what’s this man doing with the Captain’s log book, Anyway?” Gabriel replied.

03 July 2010

Another Silly Video

No, this is nothing like the average death Star day, but it's funny!

01 July 2010

A Funny Video

A ridiculously fast synopsis of the Star Wars films, done with one huge Lego collection.