If you're weak become strong, that's all there is to it. If you don't work for your goals you'll never get there. That is how Michael, the captain of the Poison Rose Pirates, started his rising in the world of pirates. His parents were killed by the Armada, and he was raised by bears in Grizzleheim. He was taught to use large weapons like axes and greatswords, but his passion lied in knives, daggers, rapiers, the smaller things. Of course, he couldn't get by without knowing how to use the heavy stuff in his childhood. Consequently, he built much strength, which when added to his precision training, made him a menace when using knives. His speed of strike rivals the speed of sound.
The purple rose flag he flew became well known, especially among the Armada. He had soared to the top of the Armada's most wanted list, and relished in fighting them. His feathered pirate hat, knifefighter's vest, and dress boots, his casual attire, was known well. For the longest time had been travelling in distant worlds around the Spiral – Monquista, he was quite hated by the monarch there until his mutual friend Gortez won his revolution; Valencia, where he was equally notorious; Cool Ranch, Mooshu, Marleybone, Aquila. Although in recent times he spent all his time in Skull Island, enjoying taking it easy in the pirate paradise. That is, until one day…
"Hah! Land below the sky? You've drunk too much!" Ratbeard declared.
"I can't drink, I'm underage; you know that!" Michael retorted. "Besides, this is yum, not rum!"
"Yum, rum, what's the difference?"
"One's alcoholic, the other isn't," Bonnie Anne said stalely.
"Who asked for yer opinion?"
"You did, actually," Michael said.
"Bahumbug! That don't make it any less ridiculous!"
"I can't help but agree on that one, captain," Sarah Steele chimed in, "All that's under the skyway is a cloud layer."
"How do you know? It's not like anyone's ever fell through it and came back…"
"How would you even get down there anyway?"
"Well," Michael theorized, "maybe there's some sort of path that leads downward past the cloud layer, and it's just been hidden so no one knows."
"Hmm…"
"I bet'cha fifty thousand gold ye can't find this 'entrance'," Ratbeard challenged.
"All right," Michael accepted. "I'll gather a group of pirates to find it."
"Why not just take us?" Sarah questioned.
"I don't want the Poison Rose Pirates to be inactive."
"And?" Bonnie questioned knowingly.
"…I want to meet new pirates. It'll be boring otherwise."
Bonnie sighed, thinking it was a poor reason to leave behind his "nakama" he had known so long. Of course, it wasn't going to be forever, so what's the harm?
"Ye'll be fighting a lot of dragons in the passage, cap'n!"
"We'll see."
"So, got any ideas for who you're bringin' along?" Bonnie inquired.
"Hmm…"
"Hmm?" everyone in the tavern cellar repeated.
Michael's face fell.
"Him?" Sarah asked.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because he's strong, reliable, and may be interested."
"Who's him?" Fan, who had so far been quiet, asked.
"Kirk. He's a buccaneer who takes pride in never being beaten by a swashbuckler. It's pretty ridiculous if you ask me."
"Why in the Spiral would you adventure with someone like that?"
"Well… it's kinda funny, actually. We first met in the spar chamber. He was spouting something about his class being superior or something like that. I challenged him, and we fought. You weren't with us then."
"You showed him, didn't ya?"
"Well, sort of…"
"Sort of?"
"It came down to just me and him," he said reminiscing, "Man it was intense. He won, but was surprised with how close I was to beating him. Said it was the closest a swashbuckler had come to beating him. We became decent friends after that."
"You speak through battle as always," Fan commented.
"Actually…" Michael said pondering, "I think his name was 'Clever Jordan Kirk,' or something… oh well, I just call him Kirk."
"Achoo!" he sneezed. "All right, who's talking about me?" he demanded marching around the tavern.
"Did you hear something from the tavern?" asked Steele.
"Aye, sounds like..." Michael trailed leaving his seat, heading for the hatch of the cellar they were in. He reached up to the handle, muttering one last word knowing the effect it would have.
"Kirk."
"Aha!" Jordan (Kirk) exclaimed pointing at Michael, "It was you!"
Michael rolled his eyes.
"Yeah."
"What's up?"
"I need you to spend an unspecified portion of time on an adventure to somewhere which may or may not exist."
"Sure," Jordan consented paying little heed to most of the statement in his boredom.
"Well then let's go," Michael motioned.
"Already?" Jordan asked aback.
"Got nothin' better to do," Michael said heading for the exit of the Kraken Skull's Tavern.
He stopped at the door, turning around quickly to head back to his crew for a moment. Jordan waited for him.
"If I'm gone longer than a week, I probably found it," he announced, "If I'm not back within a few months I'm either lost or dead."
"That's morbid," said Sarah.
"Bonnie, Fan," Michael called, "In case I don't come back..." he gave a moment of silence. "I pronounce my eternal love for you both!"
"Don't want it." they replied in unison.
"You're so cruel."
"Shouldn't we have more people for something like this?" Jordan questioned, now relocated to the docks.
"That would make it easy and boring," Michael responded adjusting the ropes of his ship.
"Why are we taking your ship?"
Michael tightened the knot, causing the ropes to make a zipping noise. He looked down at it as if pondering something serious before rising and saying,
"It's more piratey."
"That's not a reason!"
"Reason or not, we're setting sail now."
The sails unfurled and the ship moved forward. Fortunately, the ships of the Spiral were a type of magical and needed little sail one. It took only the captain behind the wheel, as opposed to the additional crew members to effectively pilot a ship.
"Do you even know where we're going?"
"Of course, I've sailed this skyway for at least four years."
"No, I mean where we're going to," Jordan clarified.
"Wherever the wind takes us."
"Seriously?" Jordan asked with a skeptical look on his face.
"Seriously." Michael looked out far, deciding to give their path a bit of randomness. He steered off the windzone, then threw the wheel around in each direction before catching it at a certain point. He did this with his eyes closed, to ensure he didn't just keep going straight.
"Looks like the wind is taking us to Jonah Town."
"Boring."
"Hey look, cutthroats."
"Still boring."
Michael continued sailing straight, and blew his horn of marleybonia and fired the cannons. Soon the enemy ship was weakened, and Michael lowered the boarding planks.
"Shall we 'wreck these noob sharks'?" Michael inquired in his definitive, calm combat tone. He oddly became more composed whenever he entered battle. He was infamous for being nonchalant at what most would consider the worst times to be.
"Sure," Kirk sighed pushing himself to his feet. He drew his giant axe. He plowed over a cutthroat with ease, demonstrating his strength.
Michael sat on the railing above the cabin, fondling a throwing knife in his hand. He sent it darting threw the air, and through a shark's vest, tearing it in half leaving a shallow cut.
"My my, such weak fabric," Michael taunted, "Kind of like you." He hopped of the rail and onto the deck as the shark charged at him.
He held the cutlass high and slammed down, but Michael's glowing black knife stopped it effortlessly.
"You should know better," he slashed with his shadow sword, "than to pick fights you can't win."
"You play too much," Jordan accused as a pile of fallen cutthroats lay beside him. They set sail again without further interruption, if it could be called that. They soon arrived at Jonah Town - not surprising - it wasn't that far anyway.
"I thought we were supposed to be going somewhere that may or may not exist," Jordan complained.
"We are... we just have to figure out how first. Tell you what, I'll go ask around and-"
"I might as well go too."
The duo arrived at the front of the tavern and Michael pushed open the door. The two walked up to the front, Jordan sitting and Michael propping his head on his hand.
"Hey," he asked the man behind the counter.
"What can I get for ya?"
"Information."
"On what?"
"The land down under."
The bartender gawked a moment.
"Under what?"
"Under the clouds."
His inquiry earned him a fit of laughter and a few mean looks from those present.
"Were ya thrown out of the last tavern fed drinkin' too much?" he said before letting out another burst of laughter.
"Does anyone know about the land under the clouds?!" Michael shouted, triggering the same response after a misleading dramatic silence. The entire tavern had been thrown into an uproar.
Jordan grabbed Michael by the shoulder, dragging him to the door.
"Hey!" Michael protested, but was cut short as he was dragged into the door.
"Dude!"
"What?"
"Do you know how ridiculous that sounded?"
"I was just trying to get leads..."
"You mean you didn't even know what we were going to do to begin with?" he said frustrated.
"Hey," a voice interrupted. The two glanced to their side revealing the source. "I know about it - what they call the land down under." He held a staff with a number of charms attached to it, jingling whenever it moved. He had skull earrings and was wearing a feathered vestment and hat which topped his white hair.
"But we can't talk here..."
"Why not?" Michael questioned.
"Too many people around."
They spoke in the ship's cabin. It was a well lit area with a large window and some furnishings - chairs, tables, that kind of stuff.
"So you're telling me that you can find this place if we take you to Devilfish Hollow?" Jordan asked stiffly.
"There's an ancient inscription there. I was there before but didn't have the tools to decipher it."
"Tools?" Michael inquired.
"Some books, a pair of magic lenses, the basics."
"How do we know we can trust you?" Jordan barked.
"Kirk," Michael said, "if it's a trap we can handle ourselves. If he's a spy we can get rid of him. If he tries to take the ship we have more. In other words, even if he's lying there's not much he can do that will hinder us."
He looked at the witchdoctor.
"Besides, I think we can trust him. What's your name?"
"Wolf - Wolf Ward."
"Aight then. Guess we set sail now."
Michael left the cabin and headed for the wheel, eager to uncover the land below the clouds. The sails flapped down allowing the wind to fill them with their gusts.
"Next stop, Corsair's Cove."
The ship halted at the shore and Jordan threw the anchor overboard. With the ship anchored, they all hopped off landing in the beach sand. They entered into the cave.
"We take a left near the entrance," Wolf said. The path he spoke of was unnaturally dark and damp. It was pitch black despite being mere meters away from a light source.
"Here?" Michael questioned.
"Aye."
"It's awful dark," Jordan added.
Wolf closed his eyes, concentrating on the flow of his mojo. With a stamp of his staff on the ground, a light illuminated from his staff, allowing them to see.
"No one uses this path because it's so dark," he said walking. The other two followed.
"Not even the inhabitants of the cave enter here, mostly because of the spiders. They see more clearly in the dark than we do in the day."
"Just spiders?" Michael said forgetting the existence of spiders his size.
They continued to walk as the sound of many legs hitting the ground resonated.
"Hmm,," Wolf said to himself.
They passed under a hoard of bats. The path was covered in stalagmites, making for hindered movement.
"We're getting close," Wolf noted, observing the ruins of an ancient structure which seemed to be part of the cave. The cave transitioned into a path of stone with engravings plastered all over. Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the path.
At the end was a large room lighted by braziers. Wolf strolled down true center toward a large stone with foreign writing of what appeared to be an archaic language.
"Impressive," Michael noted observing the detail on the pillars, braziers, and even the walls and floor of the room itself.
Wolf got to work deciphering the ancient writings, leaving the remaining two unoccupied. Wolf equipped his glasses, the lenses of which reflected in a peculiar manner. He consulted his books, glancing between them and the writings. He flipped through page after page, not finding what he needed. The writing he needed wasn't in there.
"Great," he sighed to himself. "I'm gonna have to copy it, this'll take a while." He pulled out a blank book and pencil.
'I should get a rubbing of it.'
Michael leaned against the wall with his arms crossed while Jordan sat with his axe in hand.
"Did you hear something?" Michael asked.
"Nope."
Wolf removed the necessary items from his pack and got to work. The cave fell silent for a moment, but soon faint scuttling sounds could be heard.
"Hey," Jordan said.
"Yeah?"
"I can't help but notice that on both sides of this room are large holes, just big enough to crawl through."
Michael looked at him.
"Don't you think it's weird?"
"Spider."
"And that big hole in the ceiling... Did you say-"
A large group of spiders had surrounded them.
"Make that plural, spiders."
Jordan stood up and grasped his axe.
"They look hungry," Michael noted, drawing one of his blades.
"Don't just stand there!" Wolf complained, "Keep them off me so I can finish!"
"Roger."
"Who made you the leader?!"
Michael and Jordan stood back to back ready to fight. Multiple spiders launched at them from either side. Michael hid his hand behind his back. Jordan swung his axe with a red trail following, taking out three spiders in a single blow.
"That's three," he smirked.
Michael threw a flurry of knives impaling several spiders that were flying toward him. As one's half dead body soared at him he knocked it to the side with his blade.
"Four."
"Don't get too confident."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
'Do those two turn everything into competition?' Wolf thought.
They continued their battle with the arachnids. Jordan swung his axe around powerfully, and Michael swiftly carried his blades through the enemy.
"Hey," Jordan poked.
Eight large eyes peered from the cave ceiling hole and a terrible screech was unleashed as an extra large (considering the spiders thus far were near human height anyway) spider leaped to the floor.
"Maybe we upset it?" Michael said.
"Let me handle this," Jordan said pushing his partner to the side, "I'm more than enough for this one."
"Fine, have it your way."
"Come on, you eight-legged freak!"
"Kirk, it's a spider, it's far from a freak for its kind."
"Shut it and do your part already."
"Hmph."
Jordan dragged his axe as he ran at the especially large spider. He leaped into the air and swung his axe down hard. The steel crushed the spider's leg, causing it to flail swung a leg headed straight for the head of Jordan, but he took the hit with confidence in his defense.
Jordan swung high, slicing another leg off. It thrashed about again, landing more than a few hits on the buccaneer. But he didn't seem fazed at all. He stood high and proud.
"Vicious Charge!" he smashed the torso from above. The spider gave it's final struggle before dying.
"All right, I'm done," Wolf announced. He was prepared to make a break for it away from the oversized arachnids, but when he turned around he saw a giant dead spider.
"That was fast."
"I'm also done," Michael said.
"Too fast! What are you two?"
"Level seventy," Jordan stated casually.
"Pirates!" Michael said with enthusiasm.
"Either way, we should leave before any more show up," Wolf said unamused.
"So, did you find anything useful?"
"I don't know yet," Wolf replied, "I'll need to check with Madame Vadima for a translation since I don't have anything on this writing."
The trio arrived in Avery's Court.
"Wait outside."
"Why?" Michael questioned with a tilt of his head.
"I'd rather have no distractions."
"We're distractions?"
Wolf ignored the comment.
"Just find something to do until I'm done."
"Okay," Michael said.
Wolf entered into the Witchdoctor's Sanctum, and the other two entered their respective class buildings with hopes of a final lesson before parting.