Wings of Freedom

All is calm, at-least for a given definition of the word in the "Free Port" of Drunkharbour, a couple guys bashing each-other over the head with bottles of rum, a merchant negotiating prices for objects of questionable acquisition, street fights, more drinking, okay its not really that calm at all, but what can you expect from a port where not even the Navies dare tread.

However every thing is compounded into even more chaos as a battered naval carrier pulls into port, the many modifications to its hull, and the flag on the mast signify it is another "Free Trader" but those battle wounds are fresh, and the state of its decks tell an obvious story about how where ever it was it left in a hurry.

After negotiating a stay at the port with rather short notice its crew disembarks and heads to one of the many, many.... many nearby taverns.

~a tall, tanned man in a hawaiian shirt and shorts disembarks the ship, taking a good look around the harbour once he sets his feet on the dry land~

Anders slowly opened her eyes and her lips moved into a sleepy grin until the first throb of headache came in like a shot-down plane onto a unsuspecting kitten.

Well, this was fun. she thought as she grimaced and carefully grabbed one of the fingers cupping her upper breast and pulled it away from her body, allowing her to slip out of the sleeping embrace of her this nights' „wingman“.

Climbing out of the bed, she ran her fingers through her still growing blonde hair, swallowing a hiss as they hit a few knots. Sometimes she considered cutting it back as short as it had been when she entered the Academy…but only until she remembered why it had been this short and her desire for long hair returned with a vengeance.

As she began to pick up her clothes strewn around the room, a shiver ran through her as she put on the high cut satin briefs . After two decades of wearing male cotton boxers, with a pair of socks as she grew older fit within, the form fitting women’s underwear was sinfully comfortable. The fitting black corset bra that came next was still as novel for her. She had been an early bloomer and the necessity of binding her chest had always been an uncomfortable reminder of her father’s domination of her life. Wearing something that actually supported her bosom instead of restraining it was like a constant reminder of her new freedom snug tight to her skin. Getting into her pants without sitting on the bed was a bit difficult, but by now she had actually practice even with the propeller going full bore in her brain.

She watched herself in the mirror, buttoning up her shirt just high enough to show her firm bosom to a desired degree, she threw a last look on the man still sleeping, and snoring, in the bed. He was a pilot too, and they had come into talking over the performance reports of a new plane in an Aviation Magazine, followed by them comparing their various daring actions while sharing a bottle of booze. This had been followed by them ending in this room, ripping each others clothes off. A few slaps had made it clear to him that she was not some easy bar girl who would just bend over to the great pilot and afterwards he had been a quite agreeable bedmate. Still, that was all he was, in the end.

Anders had spent years around men, boys and grown. She had shared the dorm with them, lived with them, made friends but only for the last six months had they been able to see "her" and not "him". Her friends had only known "Anders Foster", the son of Admiral Foster, and while they had made cracks about how girly he looked he was "one of the guys." And while she had liked their company - she actually still preferred hanging out with men instead of most women - she had never allowed herself to really like them around. Before she had flown off into freedom it had only happened once, after way too much booze and ended in tears and sorrow all around. Again thanks to her father.
But by now she had figured one of the realities of life: sex was fun. Lots of fun. In fact it was the closest she got on the ground to the feeling of throwing her plane from a steep nosedive in a tight up turn. And while she still hadn't managed to bring up the balls to ask a man on a rendezvous, getting them into bed was astonishingly easy. And there was no rule which forbade her to get some...practice until she finally found the courage to ask out someone she was actually interested in for more.

Finishing dressing by putting her fighter goggles into her hair, using it as makeshift headband, she look a final look to make sure she showed herself of just as she wanted. Her father had wanted a boy, and he had made her behave as a boy, dress like a boy, be a boy for her entire life, but no more. She was a women and she would show the entire world that she was one, if she felt in the mood for it. Every inch of shown decolte, her long growing hair, the way her tight leather pants emphasized her fine butt, every man laying asleep exhausted in her bed, every navy stooge shot down was a continued act of rebellion and insult to her childhood and father. She would never be anything else or less than she was again and her fondest hope was that her father was told of everything she did and croaked from a stroke by it.

Might actually be worth facing the charge and execution of treason to go home and piss on his grave if that happens. Piss on it like a girl. she thought as she nodded and turned to the door.

As she walked down the stairs from the rooms to the ground floor of the bar, she let go of a wide yawn. Sitting in front of the counter she smiled at the morning bartender.
"Morning. The meanest cup of coffee you have, some scrambled eggs with bacon please. The guy still snoring in my room will take care of the bill."

She told the other women and she threw Anders a Same routine as every morning, then? look as she put together the breakfast, followed shortly by a look of pure disgust as Anders ate with gusto, shrugging at the other woman. Anders simply didn't put on much weight. The entire first year of the Academy, some Instructors had tried to "beef up" the "scrawny looking boy". They had failed in that and the only real effect it seemed to have on Anders was a need to bind her chest tighter, resulting in nigh-constant bruises on her torso. Which had been just as annoying as having to "shave" each morning, the itching of the sock in her boxers and a dozen other things that came with her having to keep up the charade. The worst had been that women were just as accepted in the Academy than men, to the point where "he" had acquired a reputation of misogyny for the intense looks "he" constantly threw to various female cadets, mistaking jealously for dislike, and the fact that "he" seemed absolutely uninterested in the other sex. All just because her father had been too stubborn to admit he had...

Slowly, Anders put down the coffee. The headache was dying down but thinking of her live until recently had killed her appetite and the good post-romp-mood. Throwing a tip beside the half-eaten plate, she saluted to the bartender and walked out of the door. Anders needed something to cheer her up and the best way for her to do that waited freshly fueled on a runway for her...but as she stepped out of the door she saw the modified carrier hailing in and her eyebrows went up. She crossed her arms and watched it dock.

Either I'm going blind or that's the shiny carrier some lunatics stole from the navy... she thought as she decided to check it out and went towards the docks.

edited 14th Apr '14 1:30:48 PM by 3of4

Silk had learned in her years that there are two important rules that most humans seem to follow: First, don't look down unless you have to. Second, don't look up unless you have to. Fortunately for her, she was small enough that people would have to look down to see her and she could fly high enough that people would have to look up to see her. Taking advantage of this, Silk was hovering five feet above the crowd in Drunkharbour. She had only been on her own for three weeks, but she was already feeling uneasy. She missed her cluster. She had been a part of a group. Everyone had shared with each other, even if not with any outsider, and there was always someone to confide in. But there was no going back now, even if she wanted to. She was on an adventure, and you can't exactly run away from an adventure.

As such, she darted through the city streets, looking for a place she could join with pirates. Her speed was what she would consider to be like walking, but she outstripped most human joggers. As she passed the Naked Lady, a local bar, she considered entering it, but decided against it as she remembered her last trip there. She almost drowned after the captain of a crew she asked to join dunked her into his beer. She was lucky she was able to draw her blade and slice the man's wrist. He laughed at her demand for a duel to satisfy her honor.

"What honor does a bug like you have?" He had jeered. It had been satisfying when she threw a beer bottle at him, and the bar fight that ensued had been quite enjoyable. Still, it probably wasn't worth it to try the bar, again. People might remember her from last night, and she had sliced at least one of the pirates' lucky charms.

The port usually wasn't much better. The first time she went there, the dockworkers had leered at her until she slashed the eyes of one of them. Perverts get what they deserve when they're unwanted. Now, whenever she goes to the docks, the dockworkers throw things at her and chase her off. Usually, she just went around the docks to get to any ship she was trying to get to, but that also made it a bad place to try and join a pirate crew.

There was always the airport, but she couldn't fly their planes, so most of the crews simply turned her away. She stopped going when one crew tried to use her as target practice. She had shot one of their captain's eyes out with her tiny pistol before she fled. The captain wears an eye-patch, now, so he's just a parrot away from a full pirate stereotype.

It would be so much easier if they just put up a sign saying "Pirates here, inquire within, fairies welcome," but that would be too easy, and a rather boring way to get my adventure started. But she had started to grow weary of three weeks without anything promising. If some new pirates came to town, maybe she'd have some hope, but almost all the pirates are ones who use Drunkharbour as their regular staging grounds. Wouldn't hurt to check, though.

With that in mind, she flew toward the dock, rising in the air. As the dock and all the ships docked in it came into view, she began scanning the ships. She saw the Máo Zhǔxí de Fùchóu, an ex-Chinese navy ship which had mutinied and turned to piracy, renaming the ship, in Chinese, after Blackbeard's ship "Queen Anne's Revenge." To its left, the Beard, the ship of a vicious crew of all-women pirates, was anchored, but, on its right... A new ship. It was an aircraft carrier, but looked banged up and eerily empty. Silk grinned, and darted toward it, making sure to avoid notice from the dockworkers as she flew over the dock.

edited 14th Apr '14 3:07:59 PM by deathpigeon

-*A pair of Reddish brown haired twin disembarks from the ship. They both look identical to each other but the casual outfits they wear are identical as well with divergence being color. The brother in red looks around with enthusiasm while the brother in blue is too focused on a book to pay attention.*

SHLORP!

"Gotcha, yah lil'...So, think yous a clever git, hitchin' a ride in me brainpan, do yah? Well, ain't no room in there fer yas, so shove off!"

With a disgusted look on his face and a heavy heart sitting in his left sole, the short hairy man loudly hurled the fish back into the watery depths where it belonged as he walked onto the decks after Will. Having a fish stuck in his ear for several minutes was not what Racket classified as fun. Especially not with those loud klaxxons screaming in his ear. It was kind of a mixed bag when the klaxxons shut off though. Stopped the noise, but didn't mean anything good for the rest of the ship.

...Great. Now he was getting side tracked. Racket gave a long weary sigh. What a disaster he lived through. He should be grateful to have come out alive. But he wasn't. He was filled with dread. Now he'll have to help with searching for a new crew. Craters, this was not his favorite part of the job...he never knew what to ask these squishy little buggers.

In an attempt to take his mind off this latest disaster, Racket stretched his long limbs and looked around. Hmmm. It's been a while since he's seen shore, now that he thought about it. He'd forgotten which port this was. All of them look kind of the same to him, aside from which pretty girl was sitting in the harbor today. The smell of salt, booze, and human rank odor filled his nostrils was definitely unmistakeable. With this in mind, he turned his head and looked around the docks and towards the nearest bars for a few potential sucker, er, crewmates to ask.

edited 14th Apr '14 3:12:02 PM by Raidouthe21st

Will: "So, dude, where do ya think should we look first?"

Anders stopped at one of the shoreside taverns and ordered another coffee, while looking over the carrier and the people leaving it for the solid land.

"Bah, how should oi know? I ain't no smartypants like you." Racket waved his hand around in an exaggerated fashion while sticking a finger in his ear and rubbing. To be honest, he was more concentrated on getting the water still in his ear out, but he might as well give some input. "Fars I remember, Cap'n said when in doubt, go to a boozehouse. Always got someone fer you there."

There was a momentary silence as Racket finished off his ear cleaning. "Except dutchmen. Can't ever find onea them hangin' round there, dunno why. Or mabbe I jus' wasn't lookin' in the right ones."

After this bit of great insight from the short man, he gives a loud cough to orient the conversation back on track. "So! You remember tah bring the sign this toime, Willy boy?"

Here she was, in another pirate harbour, out of leads again. It was one of the most frustrating things that could happen to a freelance - the cockpit was locked, her gun was loaded, the safety was cocked, and yet here she didn't have anything else to follow.

The woman sighed, her blue eyes falling to the ground that she treaded on, the pilot boots heavy but waterproof and accessible. If it weren't for the fact she wore jeans, had a holster and a bandoleer strapped to her, and walk as though she dared the world to challenge her, she looked a lot like a stereotypical blonde bimbo.

So what if stereotypes exist? Let them. They serve as camoflague, to hide my true nature until it's too late.

She rolled her eyes.

Ugh. Angsty introspection again, huh, Kveti?

Kveti Pusztai walked through the town. Some days there was a dainty sprite in her step, a smile on her face, and a look that screamed idiocy but hid a rumbling mind. And some days she walked deadfoot, frowning, looking tough as nails and putting up a front of impenetrability that she'd learned oh so well. Some days she was on a peaceful island, and other days she was in a place like Drunk Harbour - and she'd learned if she didn't look tough she would very quickly be eating it.

She looked at what appeared to be a brand new aircraft carrier as it sailed into port, and quirked an eyebrow. It flew the flag of piracy, but it was clearly stolen - and from the looks of it, almost right out of the Navy's hands. The thought of a heist like that was rather sickening to Pusztai - but at the same time, she forced it down. As much as she hated piracy, there was a reason she was here. That reason being her mother. She had lost her at age twelve - and her father, but her father's loss was decidedly more permanent. It had happened on-board their merchant ship - her father sent her away to hide in a life raft as the pirates killed her, stole her mother, and destroyed their ship.

The following years were a long, grueling road of hard work and saving money. Saving for a house. Saving for a gun. Saving for ammo, for the books that would teach her how planes flew, how to work on planes, how to fly planes. Saving for a plane, saving for fuel and ammo, saving for those laser cannons, saving for the laser modification books, and saving for the expensive refractor prisms that resided in her Blasters. All towards one singular purpose. She was going to find the pirates who stole Mom and kill all of them. Preferably after saving Mom.

But as said before, she was out of leads. With nowhere else to turn she'd started wandering for a bit before stumbling on Drunk Harbour. She decided that a bar could prove useful. Sure, half the people in there were rather lecherous, and half of those were lecherous even without alcohol, but drunk pirates were chatty pirates and any information she could use was good. Especially if she could avoid a bar fight.

She strolled off towards one of Drunk Harbour's bars, the enthusiastically-named Grog Nozzle, and entered, embracing the seedy atmosphere before settling down and ordering a mug of ale. It was time to soak up the nightlife.

edited 14th Apr '14 3:28:11 PM by SpartyMcFly

Will: "...sign?"

-*Coincidentally, the twins would go to the Grog Nozzle Tavern when then red brother convinces his kin to grab some drinks and relax. Especially with what happened recently in the past regarding the rogue aircraft carrier.*

edited 14th Apr '14 3:39:41 PM by MrKirb

A loud slap echoes through the dock. A rather harsh application of hand directly to Racket's forehead ensued. An application he secretly wished to apply to Will's forehead as well, but Racket stayed his hand for now. Instead he waved it in the air to make sure his friend was paying attention to him.

"The sign, yah lugnut! The "We's Hirin' New Crew" sign! Don' tell me yah fergot about the sign already?"

The way Racket's eyes are bulging out shows he's rather hung up on this sign, for whatever reason.

edited 14th Apr '14 3:37:47 PM by Raidouthe21st

Will: "Oh, yeah, that one. Got it right here, brah."

~holds it up~

Silk sees two people (Racket and Will, getting off the new aircraft carrier, and swoops in as they're leaving, facing their side as she keeps an eye on the dock to make sure no angry dockworkers would be coming, and says, "Hey! Hey! Hey! Are you guys in need of people for your crew? Cause you could hire me! I need a crew, and you guys look like you need people for your crew!"

Racket nodded, his mood cooled. "Now remember, when we goes in to, um..." said Racket. The pause was from his indecision as to where to go. He moved his hand around to look around for a suitable inn when this tiny fairy immediately grabbed his attention.

"...Into...uh...this...hmmm."

Racket scratched his head in confusion and whispered to Will, "Huh, whaddya know, this crew searchin' is easiers then I thought". He cleared his throat and attempted to effect a more posh accent.

"Why yes, we as a matter of fact are searching to bolster our ranks, sir-and-or-madam. You certainly have a very scrutinizing eye, to notice our esteemed crew so soon as we stepped onto the docks. Tell me, what is your name?"

edited 14th Apr '14 3:47:37 PM by Raidouthe21st

Will: "Sup?"

Anders watched the budding slapstick while sipping her coffee on the front porch of the Grog Nozzle.

Ok. These guys are clearly lunatics.

Silk clears her throat, puffs up her chest, and straightens her back, trying to look heroic, as she says trying to sound more dramatic with her squeaky little voice, "I am Silk Valley!"

"Tell me about it," said the brother in blue.

"Well, at least they're amusing if you ask me," chuckled the red brother.

(@Silk)Will: "That's nice, sis."

The look on Racket's face said he was less than impressed. Perhaps even the opposite. After blinking a couple of times, as though to test if his eyes were still working, he drops his poor attempt at a posh accent in favor of his usual sandpaperish vocals as he looks over Silk Valley.

"...Well, that name ain't too piratey, but yah got the garb an' the attitude. Mostly. And a blade. Counts fer somethin'. Just...tell me...you don't do that whole sparkley glitter dust crud, do yahs? Got allergies to 'em, flare up real bad when it's flyin' about all over th' place."

Silk glares at Racket, and says, anger tinting her voice, "I. Don't. Glitter. I am a warrior and adventurer, not some cutesy little hippie wannabe who just wants to 'live in nature' and be cute and shit. They probably don't even know how to pick a pocket or cut someone's throat."

Kveti heard some interesting conversation coming from outside. Dropping some loose change on the counter and picking up her mug of ale, she leaned over to check, balancing most of her weight on one leg while simultaneously keeping her bottle of drink balanced and steady. It looked like a couple of people... including a... a fairy. Huh. The people she was watching were standing next to the stolen aircraft carrier, with "Crew Wanted" plastered on one of their own.

She thought for one moment about signing up. It went against everything she'd done, but it was a move made purely of desperation. The only way she'd be able to find them - find her - is if she leveraged a crew to her own ends.

As much as she hated to do it, Kveti Pusztai, pirate killer, pirate hater, needed to become her enemy to have any hope.

She came to this decision in half a second and then marched forwards, downing the rest of her ale for liquid confidence as she approached Racket and Will. Clearing her throat, she mustered her knowledge of English for all it was worth and spoke with a soft, lilting voice.

"You say you hiring?"

Will: "...whoa, sis. You totes gotta take a chill pill there." o_O

(@Kveti)Will: "Sure are, dudine. You interested?"

edited 14th Apr '14 4:12:46 PM by LeChuck4