New story for Adventure Time. Anyway guys, this is just a prologue, and I'm aided by my lovely friend, Lady Of London. I don't know if she has a fanfiction account. But anyway, I hope that you readers can comment/review on this, and also suggest some scenarios and maybe a better title?
The waves were rough and wild, raising high up, as if threatening to engulf the vessel. The monstrous wind did little to help, mercilessly beating at the sails, which looked as if they were about to be ripped from the ship. The deck was slippery with water which further hindered the busy crew as they scrambled about to maintain the ship, occasionally slipping. Those that were on standby haplessly held onto the wooden structures of the ship, or held onto the ropes. No one would want to be thrown overboard. Especially not with those choppy waves.
The waves were definitely the sailor's best friend, or the worst enemy.
As the crew struggled to get the ship to sail in the massive storm, a lady remained in the cabin, praying for the safety of her crew. She paid them for this trip, and they were her responsibility. Oh how it would break her heart and burden her with guilt if a crew member was to fall into the murderous abyss of the sea.
"I hope the storm would cease..." The lady muttered, lifting her head to look at her loyal butler who stood at vigil by the door occasionally glancing out of the little window. Said butler offered a comforting smile to her.
"Of course it will, my lady. No storm would last forever. Not only that, we hired the ship with the best crew available, with plenty of experience. Surely we can trust them, Princess Bubblegum?"
The lady, no, princess returned the smile. Hope comforted her and gave her solace. Yet, there was a sinking feeling in her guts.
Her crew was not a normal one. In fact, this whole ship reeked of the supernatural and death. A storm followed wherever the ship sailed, complimented by a dark and ominous fog, hiding the vessel from view until it was too late. Gruesome ornaments decorated the ship. Bones of slain men were hung around the ship, chains were wrapped around the hull, clinking against the hull as it sailed.
The outward appearance was enough to scare off most, but the crew was the real scare. They weren't humans, but the monsters that would plague a nightmare. Skeletons, ghouls and different monstrosities made up the crew. They were the sailors who died at sea, and were bound to this ship in death, condemned. Quite literally, heartless, soulless, and downright dangerous. And the captain of the ghost ship was the famed Captain, who was simply known as the Marquis. No one know of her true identity, or of her origins. There were many rumours. From the creepy ones to the outrageously ludicrous ones. But no one could affirm it, and no one really planned to foolishly attempt to do so.
The famed Ghost Ship Chaos was the most feared ship that sailed the seas. Or at least it was stated so in books and in hearsay. No one knew if such a vessel existed, for no one lived to tell the tale. Not a single soul.
"I spy... A ship worth plundering..."
A grin spread on the captain's face as she licked her lips in anticipation. A habit of hers. She was looking out of a spyglass she had obtained - in other words, looted - from the dead captain of the previous ship they had come by.
It was a case of the wrong place and the wrong time, really. Such shame.
She signaled to the quartermaster standing beside her silently to gather at the main deck as she carefully slipped the spyglass into her coat. It would be a waste for it to be smashed.
With a triumphant grin, she strode to the edge of the quarter deck and placed her cold hands on the railing, looking down at the her crew. The Marquis waited for the crew to settle down before clearing her throat, allowing the grin to reappear on her face, her fangs showing. She peered down yet again, leaning towards the crew before making her grand announcement.
"Our hunt is over. It's time. Time for yet another ship to sink down to Davy Jone's locker."
The crew cheered, sneered, growled and whatever other forms of cheering the undead could muster. The cheering continued as the quartermaster of her ship started to bark orders to the crew to ready up and get to the battle stations. The ship had a mind of its own, and usually was its own navigator. The Marquis had found it a pleasant perk. And in return, she made sure to treat Chaos real well. It was only fair.
She held onto the handle of her axe which was firmly planted onto the wooden flooring as she looked at the encroaching silhouette of a distant ship.
She ran her tongue across her teeth. It was almost as if blood was pumping around her body with adrenaline but that was rather impossible. But that did not deny this simple fact.
She was thirsting for bloodshed.