I don't own RWBY. Probably never will. It's a harsh, harsh world out there.


Hey, Lulz4dayz here, coming back from a long hiatus due to more important things than writing Fanfiction. For example: reading Fanfiction. Just want everyone out there to know that I might pull another year long stunt lost in the dark delves of Fanfics (just this site, I swear!). Also, this story MIGHT be a oneshot. I say that, because I have no clue where it's going to go. It might sizzle of after a few hot chapters, or it could be a long, drawn out story, with character development and a plot and all that shazaam. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'll make the most out of it while I can, but when it starts losing steam, the chuga-chuga-Fanfic-train will come to a stop. Without further ado, let us continue!


Captain James "Blackfish" Roberts licked his lips in anticipation. He and his crew were preparing to board another vessel, Spanish this time, and steal their cargo. Nervous anticipation gathered in his stomach, bringing adrenaline throughout his body whilst simultaneously making him feel almost, but not quite, nauseous. He knew he had no reason to fear, however, as he was perhaps the most respected, and feared, pirate to ever sail the seas. His crew hadn't suffered any losses other than minor injuries, and small structural damages to the hull of their boat, "The Welsh Corsair", or "The WelCo" for short. James shook his head, wondering why such thoughts were troubling, the English boat had already been caught, all that was left was to board and breach, taking any valuables with them. All of the crew members on The Welco were extremely skilled in what they did, which was why the modified frigate had been able to catch, and grapple to the English corvette with relative ease. For some reason, the corvette had not fired any returning cannons at the pirates, which had everyone on board feeling a bit more relaxed than perhaps was usual. All of these thoughts crossed the mind of the young Captain Roberts in a short moment, and the next of which had him shouting to his crew.

"All hands on-deck, prepare for boarding, Port-side plan Jolly-Roger-Cargo!" There was only ever one plan of action, and all of his sailors knew it. However, the appearance of multiple plans caused large amounts of panic and confusion aboard most grappled vessels, as it showed a clearly skilled crew of pirates. That is not to say, however, that The Welco was, in any way, lacking. Quite the opposite, actually. Because they had only one plan of action, and each of the crew members had been doing it for years, everyone knew how to do their roles very well. And in another moment, the pirate swung across the ocean on ropes tied to the rigging near the crows-nest, leaving behind only the cook, navigator, and a single musketeer to guard them.

Elsewhere, on the Spanish vessel, silky, black bangs of hair blocked the top half of a man's face as he held a picture. It was drawn in pencil, shaded in with incredible detail, giving off the appearance of a smiling, happy man, and his wife. In the background, a small tree cast shade onto the couple. As he put the picture back into his Spanish uniform's front pocket, the man glanced up, showing the similarity between himself and the man in the picture. However, there were a few changes between the two. The hair was longer, and less well-kept. The eyes had bags beneath them, and the forehead had new creases. And perhaps the most telltale sign of change was the man's perpetual frown, which grew even deeper as his hand left his pocket, and the picture, behind. Around the man, similarly dressed sailors were all geared up and ready to fight the pirates. The red accented, white uniforms were hardly visible through the open cannon ports that light flickered through. However, they could neither see nor hear what was happening - they had stuffed themselves into the cargo hold as a trap, ready to be sprung as pirates came for their wares.

The anticipation was all consuming, and as the Spanish men waited, they fiddled with their gear. Some repeatedly cocked their flintlocks, emitting small, sharp cracks as the guns readied themselves, over and over again. Others tightly hung onto cutlasses by the grip, palms slowly sweating as time went by. All of a sudden, the hull door was breached, and the real battle began.

The Spaniards let out a magnificent roar as they rushed onto the deck of their ship, leaving behind the new corpse of a pirate, who held onto his neck in a vain attempt at closing his jugular.

Initially, it seemed that the Spanish element of surprise would win them the fight, but the skill and experience of the pirates quickly turned the tides of battle into a deadlock. Initially, both crews were numbered about forty, but bodies of seamen, from both sides, littered the deck of the Spanish boat. The sounds of taunting and fighting gradually gave way to screams of pain and the quick clashing of blades.

"Jonah! Gather the survivors and retreat to The Welco!" Blackfish yelled desperately to his first-mate, simultaneously blocking a lunge by slashing his blade in retaliation, follwoing it up with a swift punch into his opponents stomach, knocking him into the side of the ship while folding onto himself in pain. With a harsh grunt, the young Captain kneed the Spaniard in the face, knocking him over the edge. A short splash followed, but James was already hopping onto a rope, swinging back onto his frigate frantically. "Leave, quickly, while we still can!" But the losses had been too great. With a crew numbering less than ten, currently, they had no way of preparing the ship for sailing. Thumps could be heard as Spaniards landed on the deck of The Welco.

"My name Ricardo de la Barco. You killed my crew. Prepare to die!" The Spanish sailors and Welsh pirates redrew their swords, preparing for the inevitable combat. Both sides surged forward to fight for their lives. However, Ricardo and James were given a wide berth as they circled around each other, each looking for an advantage over the other, but finding none. Blackfish swung first, with an overhead cleave, intending to finish the battle with one strike. His Spanish counterpart parried his strike, and promptly used a leg to kick the Captain away.

James looked around warily, noticing his own crew numbered a measly three now. They were backed into a corner by the last five Spaniards. As the Captain watched, Jonah was pierced through his shoulder, but managed to cut off the leg of the transgressor, who immediately feinted. Jonah made eye-contact with James, before a grim, painful smile made its way onto his first-mate's face. Jonah charged forward, grabbing one of his enemies and diving off board.

Ricardo was also watching the pirate's last stand. The survivors on his side were all newly enlisted into the Spanish Navy, which did not bode well when fighting an experienced enemy. Full of apathy, he saw all three of his crew blitz the last pirate, leaving themselves open to the chef, who rushed to help. In the following combat, only the chef escaped, though not before losing an ear and two fingers. With a flourish, Ricardo drew a throwing knife from the inside of his boot, and sent it towards the chef, skewering him through his neck.

Both remaining men looked back at each other. Blackfish glared hatefully at the man across from him. James's short hair and clean face contrasting his proffesion. On the other hand, Ricardo was staring apathetically at his opponent, with a unkempt countenance that belayed his position in the Spanish Navy. With a sigh, he spoke.

"Captain, look around you. Are you proud of what you have accomplished?"

"..."

"There is no hope of escape, you pirating days are over. Let me end this painlessly, and I swear to you a swift death."

Blackfish still didn't respond, instead choosing to lunge forward stabbing Ricardo through his stomach. With a sinking feeling, he looked down. A cutlass had also entered his stomach. As both men struggled to breathe, Ricardo used his off-hand to reach into his pocket, and pull out a picture. He stared longingly at it, before looking back at James.

"Where were you from?" He wheezed out, drawing a questioning glance from Blackfish. He clarified, "A man's last thoughts should be of home."

Suddenly, a bolt of red lightning struck The Welco, causing it to lurch uncomfortably to the side. Another bolt struck, this time white. Then black. And finally, a gold strike of lightning hit the boat. On the fourth, and final, strike of lightning, the boat disappeared, leaving nothing but the Spanish ghost ship.


"Blackfish" - Refers to A Game of Thrones the Board Game card "The Blackfish" ; Stark's one power leader whose text ability is "You do not take casualties in this combat."

Roberts (I only took his last name) - Perhaps the most successful pirate during a pirateering "Golden Age", having plundered more than four hundred vessels single handedly


So, tell me how it was? All reviews are appreciated. Good, bad, flaming (Not quite sure what exactly could be flamed at this point) Thank you for reading, please Favorite and Follow, and hopefully I'll be putting out another chapter soon.

-Lulz4dayz