Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions-Chapter 354: Oceanmaster V—Pirate MILF
"PIRATES!!! Tis pirates yonder!" As the great cruise ship boiled with the calls of frantic crewmen, Eotigan shut his eyes for a moment where he stood beside the captains. He heard hard voices of the men, their echoes to the approaching menace, the seadogs adrift, but he blotted it all out to the background—just for a moment.
[Ding!]
His infernal sight lit up with displayed notifications. The captain closest to him on the deck who watched him saw his eyeballs roam around under shut lashes.
[Mission I in play!]
[Host is advised to engage all material and arcane methods to ensure success.]
[Ding!]
[—all weaponry in Helpocket ready and activated]
[Bodily functions. . .normal.]
[State of Host: 97.06%]
The last notification was all Eotigan needed to close off the glinting screen. He opened again his eyes and the gold in them was as the sacred goblet of a temple.
Eotigan let his gaze land for a second time on the black ship in the distance—drawing closer by the minute—and her midnight colors. A flag that bore a skeleton head impaled upon two deadly spears. Her sails said enough. Her flag though did the thing all pirates of the Cold Sea depended on as their first and fiercest weapon: fear. The next second Eotigan turned and left the captains side. The deck was quickly emptying following the whistle of the bugle but quite the commotion still lingered as he edged his way back to the girls. He found Yemaya curled into Inaia, same as she’d been. There was no fear in the storm queen’s river eyes.
No woe.
Inaia looked uncomfortable as shit, what with Maya’s arms crossed against her chest.
"What did you do?" Eotigan started without preamble.
"Whaaaw?" Maya stumbled through her words, going for a standard ’what’ but not quite hitting the last letter. Eotigan growled and loomed bigger over her, his lynx-like iris unwavering. "Quit the shit, Yemaya," his teeth grinded. "Fine... spoilsport." Maya straightened her poise, pulling up to her full height which was actually taller than Inaia. The leftover sexual austerity left her eyes. She put her fake cross face on, saying, "You said you wanted to begin your mission. I might’ve set things in motion."
"MIGHT HAVE?" Eotigan could not believe what he was hearing. "So it’s the Ice Spears out there, you’re telling me?"
"Well it ain’t the Baywatch." Maya snorted before catching Eotigan’s stare and falling silent quick. She continued with the mention of a more terrible gang, "At least it’s not the [Kala Domoni]. They are right cunts. They’re fucking mental! If it was them out there, then we’ll have real worry on our hands." She pointed towards the ocean and tried to take his hand.
Eotigan pulled back. "There’s no WE. Kambili, take her to the goddamn cabin and give her cold fucking milk to drink or something. I’m going to see what the captain has to say."
He didn’t tell Inaia to follow but when he turned on his heel, she took his side and they walked off together, leaving Kambili to handle a tipsy goddess. The major officers and passengers of the vessel were packed together in deliberation inside of the Captain’s office; it’d been swiftly converted to a war room for the imminent attackers. Eotigan and Inaia were ushered in by a rather large Cyrene, whom held the door open for them to pass.
The captains office smelled deeply of papyrus and tea leaves, and Eotigan deftly made his way to the front of it. He took the spot right beside both men, his confidence in his ability to forge a plan out of this clear. All initial conversations going on around in the room before him wavered, dying out. The man’s damn head nearly brushed the ceiling. Inaia had quietly taken to a corner. Almost invisible—but not really. She was the only woman in the room.
"What are you thinking, Serge?" The lead captain asked of Eotigan.
Eotigan looked the war room round; these men—and their women and kids—trusted him with their lives for two reasons: they believed he was a soldier in the Empyrean forces, and, cuz of how he had thoroughly fucked those gargantuan insects. They believed in his courage. If they did guess whom he was before he’d picked this cruiser then they’d believe him even more. It was verified in their looks. Eotigan, placing both hands on the desk told them his plan:
"We keep pace with the wind, but we draw them in. We let them."
The second captain was doubtful and didn’t let him finish. "Do you think that is safe, with what we have sitting in our storage? This vessel has no cannons. It’s a Cruiser, built for voyages and vacationing." Murmurs arose when he spoke about the gold, a topic everyone in the room felt entitled to, for the good of they and their families. Eotigan held up a hand. "Might I remind you, captain that is was you was first to turn heel and flee when your comrade had his head bit the fuck off. It was I who paved the way for ’what we having sitting in the storage’.
Do not interrupt me again." Eotigan kept his gilded gaze on the captain till he nodded before he went on, *you say this vessel has no cannons. But it does have a vault I gather."
"Aye." The lead captain agreed. "As you well know, Serge, this ship’s got upperclassmen among its passengers. Vault’s for their jewels; things they’d rather remain under lock and key."
Eotigan met his eyes. "Watertight?"
"Aye. Watertight."
"Good." He said, dishing orders. "Captain, put the agile men to work getting the most treasurable in the loot to the vault. Make sounds in the cookery as distraction for when the pirates do run by us. Hide the women. A trade will not fare better with pretty faces in sight."
"You heard the man. HOP TO IT!" The captain resonated, and the men began to quickly disperse.
This far into open water, running for port wasn’t an option. It would only give the pirates reasons to suspect the Cruiser was even more loaded than it seemed to be. The crew knew this. Though trust was a hard thing for seamen, for once in their fucking watery lives, these lumbering matees did trust a man. They’d no clue the devil he was.
Eotigan wanted no stone out of place. He said to his lovely Subserviená once they had the room, "Inaia, have the men that can fight armed from my arsenals in [Helpocket]—with discretion. But all weapons should not be brandished. I wish to speak to this Captain Percival van Tuane first."
Inaia’s protectiveness of him immediately rushed to the surface. "Lord [Host], if I may, these sea-dogs know no diplomacy."
"Then we’ll either teach it to them. Or kill them all." Eotigan saw her warm, tea-colored eyes and he softened his voice. "Come here..." He called her close. The beautiful lines of her dreads came up to his chest when she hugged him; he cupped the back of her neck, slowly caressing, "I know what these men are, fine wine. But you have nothing to worry about. We have the benefit of a lot now. They underestimate us. They do not know us. They cannot fathom our abilities reach even if they tried. They cannot win. They will not take this ship. They think right now that they’re just about to land a heavyweight, big fucking tank Cruiser, but they shall not steal our gold. The plan is foolproof," he kissed her temple, "we reel them in. I use the opportunity to scout for the MILF crucial to completion of [Mission I].
...they are not the hunters here, my fair lady. We goddamn are."
Eotigan put his hand under Inaia’s chin, lifting her face to his.
"Now give me some love, baby."
She reached up on tiptoes. His mouth deliciously covered hers, kissing her till they were both seriously contemplating a quickie down in the captains office. "I better go," said Inaia—hot for him, her lips pinkened. But not before she received a jumping smack on her ass as she bolted for the door.
PAH!
"Mhmm." Eotigan congratulated himself. "All mine, bitch."
Ten short minutes later he was with the two captains on the frigate’s uppermost, bronze deck when the pirates finally rolled astride. He and the captains had appareled in their formal colors; they were fitted in the official blue, red and gold. And he, in a long cloak of cascading charcoal black, outfitted by his honors. Fifty seven men—not one single female in sight—stood on the cedarwood in a straight line, chests puffed out, heads held high, hats on, guns a’ready. Unlike their whalish vessel, the pirates ship had a fuckload of fucking cannons.
—all trained upon their hull.
Eotigan saw a crewman gulp out of the corner of his eye. But no man dared break the uniformity.
The only reward of a deserter was death.
SREEEW! SREEEW!! SREEEW!!!
Ropes with triad iron-heads flew over, catching the Cruiser’s sides. Gangplanks hit—bridges for a rush. And the pirates came jumping in, landing like feral cats on longworn shoes. Their faces, leathery, missing love. For each standing crewman, on pirate came to match his stance, drawn up to eyelevel. Men of each party made faces at each other. ’Come on, motherfuckers! Bring it.’ ’You bring it, dog!’
Everybody looked up when the sound of ’em Jack Truttle boots came hitting up the long planks. It sounded like a western highwayman was about to be hanged.
Eotigan noticed the boots first: nice leather. Then the legs—long legs; a tall sumabitch. Up the denim pants and plaid shirt to a shocking immaculate white felt hat. This ridiculous dramatic, obviously the pirate captain had one hand on the rim of his hat. Without revealing his face, he drew up and let a hurl of spittle so skillfully thrown out his mouth fly across the goddamn ship and land in the water on the other side.
"Such a demonstration, seadog." The lead captain chided, having enough of the fucker’s big entrance. "—who the fuck are you?"
The pirate captain had on such glamour the crewmen of the Cruiser shared looks; it was pretty hard to convince a band of hard-boiled, cornfed men that this clean-cut, white-wearing fucker was the leader of the Ice Spears. His damn shoes were clean! The charismatic man tucked his hand in his spotless waistcoat for a spotless handkerchief. He lightly dabbed at his face under the noon sun; he was so shiny in his white outfit he practically reflected sunlight off the ship’s deck. His voice came—and it was perhaps the first thing remotely broguish on he:
"I am Captain Percival van Tuane. I lead the Ice Spears." He walked to the first Cruiser captain, dwarfing the man in turn and charging him back, "...who the FUCK are you!"
Now he up close. And it was then Eotigan got a good look at the white man’s face under the brim of that dastardly hat. And he stilled in his doublet. He’d recognized that blonde ponytail, those blue eyes, that faerie skin, that square jaw, anywhere. It was his friend. His old friend. Captain Percival van Tuane was really Lord Percival van Imperia of House Nova Imperia; true son of wedlock, not a bastard. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞
What was he doing a Black Flagger?
"Gods fucking dammit!" Eotigan blew under a breath. No wonder the dude wore a white freaking suit. He was a [sunling].
He watched Captain van Tuane slide those cerulean eyes of fae royalty to him, and watched the eyes quickly enlarge. Yep! Percival had smoked him out too. Just two old buddies, nearly a half-decade and a name-change later, and here they were. Imagine fate!
Percival pulled up close, right into Eotigan’s ear alone he whispered, "if you do not want us laid out and re-circumcised by both our crews, follow my lead."
Eotigan aimed to do exactly that. But then his golden eyes strayed up and across to the pirate ship centimeters away. A very, very curvy blonde stood next to a barrel on its baobab deck; big of breasts and buttocks, this woman was a sight. A voluptuous mommy. A MILF.
[Ding!]
[Mission I Target Acquired!]
He looked closer, beyond happy at the thick chick, only to find she had completely silver eyes; it was not a turn-off. But it was an inclination that she was a [Silversaint]. Which meant she could see right into the frigate’s hull and to the vault, the dozens of women and children and heaps of gleaming gold. Eotigan mumbled. "Shite!"
