Another Ghost Ship

Bard 15

a/n: this is an unusual cross over between Supernatural and an AD&D Campaign, Freeport Pirates. It's also where my penname originates in that my character (Cierra) is a 15 level Bard (I've been playing this character/campaign longer than Supernatural has been on air!)

additional note: it's really not particularly AU since "time travel" has been established as canon in the show and time/space shifts are also canon in our campaign. However, it is AU in the campaign storyline (changing details of campaign to add the boys). And we started this campaign well before the Pirate movies came out...

/FREEPORT/SUPERNATURAL/FREEPORT/

The boys had been anchored in the general vicinity of the ghostly ship sightings for the last three hours and Dean was past impatient, "Come on, whatever it is, it ain't showin' tonight; hell, so far there hasn't been any pattern to its appearances..."

Sam frowned, "Don't you think it's odd...there are no legends of ghost ships in this particular area and if there really was a ghost ship you'd think with as much traffic as this area gets with the commercial fishermen it would have been spotted sooner and more often...then the fact that there is no pattern..."

"Just because we don't see the pattern doesn't mean it's not there...since we don't know what's causing it to pop in and out: if we had the reason we might see the pattern," Dean interjected. "I just can't get over the fact that Bobby knows a crab fisherman in Maine...really..."

Sam just snorted in amusement, "I bet Bobby knows at least one person in every state..."

"Yeah, whatever...but we're the ones sittin' in the middle of the ocean..." Dean grumbled.

"Dean, Bobby was right in the middle of a case in Nevada...he said he'd be here when he wrapped it up," Sam said.

Attention focused on preparing to pull up anchor and head back to shore it took the two hunters several moments to notice a mist start to gently roll over a previously calm sea that now had three to four foot swells bobbing the boat.

"What the hell," Dean cursed as he lost his footing and stumbled onto his backside.

Looking around quickly, Sam pointed into the mist, "Dean, look..."

"I'll be damned...it's real..."

In the heavy mist and deepening gloom of night, they could only just make out the outline of a single mast ship by the lanterns hung along its upper deck...and squinting they could make out movement on deck, and in the rigging.

"Uh, Dean, we need to move," Sam said with growing alarm as the ship seemed to be coming at them head on and showing no signs of slowing, or even that they had been seen.

While Dean moved to start the boats engine, Sam rooted around their weapons bag and pulled out a signal flare in hopes of alerting the other ship of their location.

Whether the larger ship didn't see them, or didn't care...the signal flare did little to deter its approach.

The last thing Dean remembered was hearing his brother's frantic shouts to "jump".

...Supernatural...Freeport Pirates...

In the shadows cast by the flickering lanterns, a woman looked out over the wreckage of the smaller vessel, seeing two semi-conscious men clinging to the wreckage, saying to the shadow behind her, "You best fish them out if you want any answers."

"Aye, you hear me woman...pull them lads aboard..." a gruff voice shouted.

...Supernatural...Freeport Pirates...

Sputtering and coughing, the boys were dropped unceremoniously on the deck.

"You had a whole freakin' ocean and you steer right into us...what's your deal; you coulda' killed us," Dean ground out angrily as he pulled himself into a sitting position, looking around for his brother, "Sammy, you alright?"

Sam nodded and also sat up, edging closer to his brother: both boys looked up at the indistinct and shadowed crowd assembled on the deck.

Feeling around the deck, then peering intently at the crowd, Sam commented warily, "You know, for ghosts, things seem pretty solid Dean."

The sound of a whispered voice, in a language they could not identify, wafted from the crowed /spell—understand language/ before a rather large man suddenly stepped from the crowd to tower over the two boys, "Ghosts we ain't boy...leastways, not at the moment...but, now, those that shoot at me ship: they just might be seeing Haramast sooner as to later..."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks before turning to look up at the man...and if ever they would describe the epitome of a "pirate" they would have to say the man in front of them fit that bill; he was dressedin dirty, black billowing pants with black boots that covered his calves, he wore a shirt that might once have been white but now sported stains of questionable origin and a black, button up vest could be seen behind the bandolier that draped his chest...the boys did not fail to notice the two flint lock pistols, several daggers and a sword that hung low on the man's hip. His dark, wavy hair was pulled in a loose pony tail that went half way down his back and his skin was brown and leathered from the harsh sun.

"Really...little early for Halloween don' cha' think..." Dean snarked, "all yer missing is the parrot."

The people on the deck looked at him blankly and Sam shot his brother a classic "shut the hell up" face.

"Look...we weren't trying to attack your ship...we were trying to signal..." Sam said quickly.

"With a fireball..." the man asked skeptically.

"A fireball...what; it was a flare gun dude," Dean snapped.

"Look...sir...we really weren't shooting at you," Sam reiterated.

Eyeing the boys intently, the man furrowed his brow at their strange speech and dress, "Well friend or foe will be telling in the waters we be sailing, so, why don't you be telling me what waters these are...them stars not be matching me navigation charts..." the man demanded, giving a nod; the boys suddenly found themselves being manhandled to a standing position.

The boys exchanged looks, Dean commenting, "Is he for real...?"

Sam shot his brother another 'will you shut up' look before asking slowly, "You don't know where you are?"

"Would I be askin' if'n' I knew, boy," the man groused.

"Perhaps, John, if you showed them more hospitality, they would be more inclined to parlay," a melodic and distinctively feminine voice stated, "after all, you did destroy their vessel."

Sam and Dean looked towards the new voice to see a lithe, red headed woman step from the shadows; she was dressed in flowing black pants tucked into mid-calf brown boots and a dark purple, drop shoulder shirt, covered by a brown suede, form-fitting vest. They also noted a small; topaz colored stone that seemed to radiate a gentle glow adorning a ribboned chocker around her neck. /gem of perpetual light/

'Wow', Dean mouthed to his brother.

The man snickered at the reaction the woman elicited from the two young men, "She be a sight to behold..."

The woman just rolled her eyes at the man's comment as she looked the boys up and down dispassionately, "You look like a couple of drowned bilge rats. Come, we can at least get some rum in you to warm you up..." she then looked to the other man, "the good stuff right...not that swill you ration the rest of the crew."

The woman's eyes twinkled mischievously as she beckoned the brothers to follow her; the man following behind them grumbling.

The walk across the ship's deck was short: the crew eyed the strangers with open curiosity and wariness, while the boys took the opportunity to take in their surroundings. The brothers exchanged looks of disbelief as their eyes took in the forms moving amongst the ships rigging.

Dean hit Sam's arm to get the younger man's attention, nodding up to the rigging, and whispering hoarsely, "Dude, do they...are they...dude, are they monkeys or people?"

Sam just raised his eyebrows and gave his head a little shake, a warning to his brother to keep his observations a little more discreet.

Dean waved his brother off irritably and continued to look around the ship, hitting Sam again and nodding towards the shadows, "Sam, I think I saw something green..."

"Dean, shut up," Sam huffed.

The cabin they entered was small and simply adorned, bathed in the flickering light of several small lanterns and dripping candles—the hunters could see that the bed took up a majority of the space (causing Dean to again punch Sam's arm and waggle his eyebrows to which Sam responded with another—'what the hell Dean, shut up' look). Pushed against one wall was a rough-hewn table piled with maps, charts, scrolls and a few books; while chests of varying sizes were covering most of the floor.

The woman waved them to some chairs, while taking up a standing position right inside the door while the man poured out a dark amber liquid into some tin cups.

"Man, Sammy, looks like we found us an honest to goodness pirate ship," Dean mumbled to his brother as his eyes roamed the cabin in open curiosity.

Hearing the comment, the man said gruffly, "Corsair's boy...with Letters of Mark, done up all legal like..."

Dean looked to his brother, "corsair?"

"Countries gave certain...uh, sea-going ships Letters of Mark...making it legal for them to, uh -'confiscate'...cargo from the enemies of the issuing countries..." Sam explained carefully.

"So, a fancy word for pirate then..." Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Throwing back his drink, the man laughed gruffly, "Aye boy...I like yea..."

As the man handed Sam a cup, the young man looked to his brother before asking, "Uh...could we ask what ship this is?"

"You lads be aboard the Bloody Stump...and I be this here ship's cap 'an': John, be the name and that being our bard—Cierra..." the man said, first pointing to himself, then the woman standing at the door, "and what should I be a callin' you?"

Dean raised his eyebrows in another 'what the hell' look as the boys again exchanged glances, that ship name was not one that had come up in any of their research of the area: Sam found his voice and answered, "Uh, I'm Sam...This is my brother Dean."

"Sam...Dean, brothers you be," the man said with a nod, "so, where do you lads hail?"

Dean looked confused, while Sam stuttered, "Uh...my brother and I, we travel a lot...we don't call any...uh...any port home; and yourselves?"

The man again nodded, taking a drink straight from the bottle and giving the woman a quick glance; the boys noted she returned his look with a subtle nod /spell—sense motive/, "We put in most at Freeport."

"Freeport," Sam questioned, shooting a look to his brother who answered with a shrug.

'"And this ocean..." Cierra asked.

The boys exchanged looks and shrugged before Sam answering slowly, "the Atlantic."

"That ocean not be on any of my maps..." John said with a general wave towards the piled table.

"Uh, maybe if we could see some of your maps we could show you where you were," Dean suggested as he absently took a drink from his cup, the fiery liquid burning a path down his throat, causing him to cough harshly and gasp for air, "what the hell is this stuff...?"

Sam eyed his gasping brother in concern, jumping up and grasping his brother's shoulders to steady him as Dean continued to cough and choke harshly from the fiery, course liquid.

"Don't know if I can be a trusting a man that can't hold his rum," John commented with a laugh. /he gave them pursers rum...which is well and truly wretched stuff...I've actually had English pursers rum as my GM is in to collecting rum from all over the world.../

Voice ragged, Dean spat, "You call that rum?"

During Dean's bout of coughing, Cierra had moved into the room and knelt at a chest, opening it up and pulling out a bottle, "Not everyone can tolerate that swill you call rum...perhaps they have different tastes..."

"For that elf water...bah..." John grumbled as he moved to the table and began moving things around until he could spread out a large parchment across the table, then he beckoned the boys to look as he pointed out where they were on the map.

They took the proffered mugs from Cierra before turning to the map spread out on the table. Sam and Dean looked at the map then at each other, before Dean said, "I don't know what dime store you got this out of, this sure ain't a map of anywhere on this planet dude..."

Instead of being surprised by what Dean said, the boy's noticed the captain merely nodded thoughtfully at what the boy's said while Cierra's brow furrowed in anger and she sighed heavily, frustration evident in her face.

"Was the Triangle not enough...?" Cierra cursed quietly.

"You've been to the Bermuda Triangle..." Dean said, turning to his brother he said with a smile, "that explains it Sam...the Bermuda Triangle..."

Sam again shot his brother an impatient look, huffing out in frustration, "Dude, we are thousands of miles from the Bermuda Triangle."

Dean shrugged, "So maybe they get sucked in there and popped out here?"

"And if they did that, don't you think they'd have maps we recognize, Dean," Sam pointed out, "and then there's the way their dressed..."

Again Dean shrugged, postulated, "Time shift maybe..."

"Dean, even hundreds of years ago they had rough maps of the Atlantic Ocean," Sam countered, pointing to the map, "does that look like Florida or Bermuda or anyplace along the Atlantic?"

"So what is it Sammy...how do you explain the Jolly Roger poppin' up out'a nowhere," Dean questioned.

"I think it was more than a time slip," Sam said slowly, "Dean, I don't think they're from...this planet."

/SUPERNATUAL/ /FREEPORT PIRATES/