Sadly enough i have not created any of the familiar POTC character…but the unfamiliar ones are all mine..maharaja..ok im done
Not to start off with a cliché, but it was a dark and blustery night. Trees uprooted, roofs of the ocean side houses of Port Royal blown off, the sign from the local blacksmith shop ripped off and blown into the local well. Not a soul walked the streets, well except for two sopping wet ones. Nearly blown away from the howling winds and pelted with cold rain the black hooded figure walked down the dark sodden streets, accompanied by a shorter hooded figure, desperately grasping the hand of the taller. The form finally made its way down to the docks which was partly underwater from the waves and the high tide caused by the storm. The figure paused and frantically looked up and down, resting its gaze on a large black ships with billowing black sails. It would have been the Black Pearl if she wasn't lying at the bottom of the ocean from a previous and may I add disastrous adventure from ten years ago, but it was run by the same infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.
The two hastened to the gangplank that furiously rocked back and forth, in rhythm with the ship. They ran up, nearly falling into the dangerous waves lapping at their feet and onto the slippery deck of the massive ship. A faint glow was emitted from the companionway that led to the cabin. The figures rushed to the door and restlessly banged against it. "JACK SPARROW? IS THERE A CAP'IN JACK SPARROW ON BOARD?" yelled a velvety female voice from the taller hooded being. The door swung open and a gun was quickly pointed at the woman's head, behind the gun stood Jack, black painted eyes wide. He wore his usual outfit, lacking his hat, coat and rum. He frowned and lowered his gun. "Who the bloody hell are you?" The woman huffed and lowered her hood. Underneath was a pale woman with fiery red hair pulled tightly back in a bun, her piercing blue eyes glared at Jack. "Oh. Its you." He lowered his gun completely, but kept it in hand. "Yes Jack, its me. Now are you goin' to let me in or have ye drowned yer manners in rum already?" "I have you know that we have run out of rum. And now that you brought it up and have pained my heart greatly I don't think I want to let you in." She let out an animal like growl and pushed her way past him, dragging the smaller hooded person behind her. "Well, if you insist."
He closed the door behind him and followed her into the warm room. In the center was a round table covered in maps, parchments with coordinates and notes scribbled on them, pencils, two empty rum bottles, and on the corner of a map laid his most prized possession, his black compass. He pulled up a red cushioned chair from the table and sat. He tossed his gun on top of a map, laced his fingers and placed his hands on his stomach. "How may I be of service, Rosemarie?" he said with a smug grin. She sighed and stood opposite Jack. "I can't stay long. I have come on behalf o' Gabriella." He raised his eyebrows "Ah. How is she…" he paused, tensed and backed his chair up. "Your not gonna slap me are you?" She shook her head, he relaxed and continued. "How is she doing?" She frowned. "She ran off wit some drunken fool." He let out a long sigh. "And how did this happen?" "A few nights ago while working at the bar there was a fight and she so happ'en to have saved one o' the men who had a bad wound to his stomach from a blade. He supposedly was the knight in shinin' armor she had been waitin' for. She eloped three days ago." Confused he asked. "Why was she working at a bar?" "'Cause she didn't want to do that line o' work anymore, she wanted to be more proper." He groaned, and let out an annoyed huff. After a short pause he looked up at her. "And what does this have to do with me?" "Well, if ye would have visited her in Tortuga more often, like you promised, ye would have found out she has been raisin' yer child for the past ten years." He nearly fell backwards on his chair as he gave her a bewildered look. "M-m-my what now?"
