A/N: Hey-hey! And we're back, with another installment to Scoundrel. Yay, huzzah… Just me? Fine then… SnowHelm, you're glad right? Of course you are! I've singled you out among the masses – cough – and decided to dedicate this chapter to you, my most loyal reviewer. Here's to you Snowy!
The rest of you? Party poopers. Everyone who doesn't review is a party pooper.
Before we continue, I should point out that all I own is Jack Sparrow – THIS ONE, NOT THAT OTHER GUY! OH DEAR GOD, STAY AWAY FROM ME LAWYERS – and the plot. That is all.
Also, every time I try to insert lines to space out this story they disappear when I upload. So what I've done is everytime you see four words in bold, that's a break in the story. Expect a time skip. And if the stuff in bold is edited out, I am not going to be a happy bunny and you're all gonna get confused. If anyone can help with this problem, PM so I can fix it for the next chapter. Thanks.
Anyway, last time we left our young Hero in the grips of confusion. Throwing fire from his hands, floating in an abyss where he hears his mother telling him he's been in an accident and that he has to wake up. What's going on? Is all of this a hallucination? Is he dreaming? Or is he going insane?
While he strives to understand the puzzle of what life has become, he faces a bigger issue: dream or not, he's been captured by the Ferelden warship that was tasked with destroying the Siren's Call. And they are not happy with Sparrow's improvised sabotage…
Chapter 5: Caged Bird
I've always enjoyed the sky. In my mind, it's the most dazzling thing in the world. In the mornings it can range from lightest of blues to darkest of grey. At night, after streaming from crimsons and pinks and oranges, it eventually settles into a deep blue, like a still sea. Unfathomably deep, we have only the barest on inklings of what dwells in the heavens. And the stars, oh the stars, tiny pinpricks of light as though the night was just a holey blanket, with sunlight shining through, ready for the moment for the night to be tossed away so the sun can play.
God, do I miss it.
I wake up.
I've been stuck in this cell for three weeks. Three week! Barely any food or water, the thing is too small for me to stand up straight or lie down straight. If I end up getting a hunch there will be hell to pay!
Ever since I tried to kill myself blowing up this miserable ship – trust me to fuck up a suicide! – I've not left this tiny cage. Before I came to, the resident Sawbones – the doctor – patched up my leg nicely, along with some nasty burns I acquired blowing myself up. Very professional. With the amount of bear traps I stood on in Dragon Age, it comes as little surprise to me that the doctors – and I use that term liberally – can patch up a gammy leg good as new. Honestly, I'm surprised that infection hasn't sat in. The medicine of this age is practically Neanderthal! Healing Poultices, imbued with magic from the Circles, has left me with a healthy looking scab on my leg. I hope it's gonna turn into a scar, chick loves scars.
Then again, the moment we dock I'm gonna be put in a slightly larger cell until they take me outside and hang me.
Happy thoughts though.
The guard on watch is little fun. I've tried talking to him before, during the first week, but he just ignores me. Same with his relief. I think they don't like me. I haven't had a decent conversation since before I shagged Isabella.
And really, with the lack of blankets, bed or anything vaguely comfortable, at least I have that memory to keep me warm at night.
I'm glad they got away. They must've taken some casualties but Isabella wasn't one of them. I'd know. This Captain has a mean streak…
{"What is your name? Where will they make port?" he yelled into my face. I giggled, blood and spittle dripping from my mouth. Two men were holding my arms and standing on my feet. No way to dodge or block. Just had to sit back and enjoy the attention.
"Fuck you," I said quietly. The Captain's fist crashed into my chest like a wrecking ball, and his soldiers keep me upright. The pain is intolerable when you can't curl up. I tried to catch my breath, the last hit winded me badly. The captain grabbed me by the face and comes in close. I can smell the rot on his breath. "Whoa mate, ever heard of Colgate? Or tic-tac?"
"I am tired of playing this game pirate." He said menacingly.
"Oh good," I interrupted. "Can we play eye-spy? I spy something overcompensating." I took a breath and looked at the captain's crotch before catching his eye and winking. "Can you guess what it is?"
His next blow crashed into my cheek, sending my head into a painless daze.
I saw stars. Beautiful stars.
It took a few moments for my head to clear and I shook off the numbness, immediately regretting it as my brain bounced around my skull. I groan in pain.
"Just tell me when you've had enough pirate and this will all end," the captain said, inspecting some invisible speck of dust on his hand.
"Only if you promise to write," I replied in a sing song voice. The captain stared at me and then nodded to one of the men holding me. They began to twist my arm to the point of breaking. Meanwhile, the captain swaggered up to me.
"Guess you're not the writing kind," I winced. The captain laughed cruelly.
"You realize that your life is in my hands don't you? Of course you do, you're not an idiot. Right now I can have both of your arms broken, with naught but a nod. You belong to me. And I like my things to be smart. The way you crippled my ship was ingenious. Using flour as an explosive? My congratulations on your intuitive thinking." As he spoke, he slowly withdrew a dagger from his hip before examining the point.
"I blame MacGuyver," I said through gritted teeth. The two men were nearly wrenching my arms from their sockets and it was all I could do to hold back my agonized screams. I wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction.
"I do not know who this MacGuyver is. All I what to know is your name, and where the Siren's Call is going to dock. Now so far, we've been crude. Beating and punching and kicking. And you've held up remarkably well, even I must admit. But believe me when I say that I can be very, very elegant. Have you not wondered why none of your bones have been broken yet? It's because I want to savour this." His eyes began to glint as he looked me in the eyes. I saw the enjoyment in his eyes. This bastard was getting off on kicking seven shades of shit out of me. He nodded at the men, who slackened their grips and returned my arms to their natural positions, before turning and smiling at me. And then his face turned cold, almost dead.
"Does your own life mean that little to you? Or are you this defiant for the memory of your fallen comrades. I remember your face as you watched my men throw them into the sea. But it was fair. You killed some of my men. Savagely, like an animal. Like all animals, you can be tamed, with the right persuasion. I can be very persuasive when I want to be. And I really, really, enjoy spending such special times with you. But alas, I have orders to follow. So, it's in your very best interests to tell me what I want to know."
I gasp heavily, eyes wide. My whole body aches. My shins and thighs were he kicked me. My, ahem, "special place" where he sent a hard knee. My whole chest and stomach. My face. My shoulders, my arms. I looked and from the waist up I was naked. Angry purple and red blotches were showing up all over my skin. I could feel the blood pump into my face as my eye began to swell. I was beaten. And if I didn't start co-operating soon, I was going to be broken. I lowered my head.
"Okay," I whispered.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" the captain asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
I looked up at him, the ghost of a smile in my face. "They're in Tortuga."
"Tortuga," he echoed in confusion before he caught the smirk I was wearing. I spat a globule of blood into his face and the men tightened their grip again as the captain recoiled.
"On the Isle of Fuck you. My name is Jack Sparrow, and you can kiss my ass," I said with a grin. The captain calmly wiped the blood off his face and took a deep breath. He smiled sardonically. I wiggled my eyebrows.
And then he lunged forward and buried that dagger hilt deep in my shoulder. My screams were loud enough to wake the dead}
I rub my shoulder unconsciously. Being stabbed is definitely not going onto my to do list. The pain… was indescribable. It was almost as though the dagger was flaming hot as it carved its way through skin, muscle and sinew. Luckily the sawbones was able to patch me up. It's taking longer to heal than my leg, but I expected that.
I sigh. Captivity got boring after the first hour. My usual captivity – by that I mean school – could always be spiced up with conversation. And when that failed, games were fun.
God, what I would do for a game of Angry Birds!
I scratch away at the floor by my hand, just for something to keep my hands busy, staring at the lock intently. Isabella had been teaching me how to pick locks, but I don't have anything to pick it with. If only I had magic…
I remember how I killed that man. I remember throwing fire and burning him. I remember the great rush of power that flooded my body. But I don't remember how I did it? Am I a mage? How did that happen? Before, in my own world, I couldn't even do card tricks. Now I'm a fire starter? It just doesn't make sense. I laugh at the irony. At what point has this whole thing made sense?
Uh, so much time with my thoughts. I've reflected on pretty much everything. I've analysed every moment of the past seven months. My thoughts are drawn mostly to the events that have occurred on this ship though.
How did I kill that man? If I threw the flames then, why can't I do it now? Has my mana not recharged?
When I was unconscious… I heard things. My mum. Almost like she was right next to me. So close… The things she said… could they be true? Am I dreaming? Have I pulled a Life on Mars? Or was I just hallucinating? Like that Batman comic I read. He had a near death experience – that happened to actually kill him – and the whole time he was guided by his mother as she explained that in all the worlds, he was always Batman. That he always died as Batman. And his reward for being Batman was to be with them, and know happiness for a few years.
Hehe, I'm Batman.
If I knew more about how I came to be here, I might be able to make a more accurate assumption. But as of now, I have no idea. But now that I've had time to think about it, I've realized something.
It not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.
Rip offs aside, it doesn't matter that I'm some lost bloke from another world, masquerading as a mad bloke from a movie while being stuck in a video game. What matters is what I do while I'm here. I have to face the eventuality that this… this is all permanent. I might be stuck here forever. And that's terrifying. Everything I've ever known, gone. Poof. Zip. Shazam. And even if it's not, I might be here a while. It's taken six months for any indication that the world I knew is still out there. So until I find my way back, I have to survive.
Which is gonna be difficult seeing as how I'm a prisoner on board a ship in the middle of the ocean on my way to be executed.
Happy thoughts…
"I left my baby and it feels so bad, I guess my race is run. She's the best girl that I ever had, I fought the law and the law won, I fought the law and the LAW WON!" I sing, tapping on the bars of my cage in time to the tune. I have to fend off the boredom somehow. I've been doing this for the past six hours. First there was musicals, then we had theme songs. Then that moved onto greatest hits. Then I went quiet for an hour. Then I realized where I was and after a moving rendition of Folsom Prison Blues, we came to this.
It's like having an mp3 in my head! And my jailer is getting more and more annoyed. He started off by glaring. Then he ignored me. He sighed happily when I stopped. When I started again he groaned and started drinking. But recently he's been watching me, tapping his foot in time. I've made a friend. Granted, he's drunk and probably won't hesitate to kill me, but hey, I can't afford to be picky.
"You like that one big man?" I ask with a grin. The guard grins happily, nodding. "Okay, I got another one for ya. Ready?" Big man nods and I start tapping.
Tap. Tap. Tappity tap tap tap tap.
"I met her in a pub down in old Soho where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry cola. C-O-L-A Cola… She walked up to me and she asked me to dance. I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she Lola. L-O-L-A Lola. Lo-lo-lo-lo-lola…" The big man cheers and I laugh.
"What's your name big man?" I ask as the mirth dies out and I stop laughing. He takes a minute to answer.
"Peter," he slurs. I laugh.
"Peter eh? My old step-dad was called Peter. It's a funny old world," I say with a smile and Peter laughs. "So, Peter? Do me a favour and let me out?" I ask, gesturing at the lock. He bellows with laughter and I join in because, really, what else is there to do? "Yeah I figured as much. Mind telling me where we're heading?"
"Denerim," he says drunkenly.
"Ahh, right. Ferelden warship, forgot." I scratch my head before laying it against the cage. "Where are you from Peter?"
"Ferelden."
I sigh. This is why I avoid drunks. The conversation is stunted, at the very least. But, it's better than I've had all these weeks. I scratch my beard – haven't had a chance to shave, what with being imprisoned and all – before I start again.
"Where is Ferelden?"
"Highever."
"Highever?" I say in puzzlement before it hits me. "Oh right, Highever. Cousland… land. Say, tell me about the Couslands."
He stares at me in a drunken haze. "Wot you wanna hear about them for?" he asks. I gesture around me at the cage. "Oh right," he sniggers.
"Well you've got Bryce Cousland. He fought with King Maric to get rid of those Orlesian scum. The King gave him Teyrnship over Highever. He's got that wife, Teryna Eleanor. Supposed to be a beauty beyond all compare, second only to Queen Anora that one," he says, wiggling his eyesbrows suggestively and I give him a throaty laugh. Funny how the two most powerful and influential women in the country are the most beautiful… "They've got that son, Fergus. Married an Antivan? Bunch of whores and thieves in Antiva, but at least he got a shag and a son out of it," he laughs into his drink. Come on you drunk idiot. Tell me the good stuff, tell me about the Noble.
"And then there's the other son, Aedan. Nice lad, my daughter played with him when they were younger. Course they're growing up and he's the Teryns son, so I suppose when I get home it'll have stopped. But there's a spark in that boy, no doubt about it. Doesn't act like most nobles you hear about. Then again, all the Couslands are good people. Reasonable tax, firm but fair… a man couldn't ask for a better leader. There's some that say Bryce was the one that shoulda been King after Maric died. But Calenhad's line's ruled Ferelden for 400 years. Bryce isn't the type of man to forget his history, not if you listen to the stories about the rebellion." He chortles and takes another swig of his drink.
So, our little Aedan is a nice bloke. Good. Though if I think about it, he must be about… 14? 15? I think he was 19 when Origins began. Then again, he might not even be chosen. Dunno how it'd work in this world. In the game, you chose your origin and Duncan turned up. All the others died. But now we don't have a player character, so who knows how it'll happen.
Meh, it's got 4 years to work itself out.
We arrived in Denerim a few days after me and Peter spoke. He didn't talk much after that so I gave up. Not even song would inspire the guard to sing like a canary. After we docked, I was immediately shackled and walked to a cell. I left there for six days and I can now say it. Honestly, I preferred the brig.
That place was a hive of villainy and scum. Thieves, murderers, rapists, madmen, all cooped up in a room with no-one but themselves for company. The howling alone was driving me mad. Er. Madder. I gave up on my sanity the day I woke up under the Hanged man.
Though in retrospect, I think to myself as I'm walked towards the Gallows, maybe it wasn't all bad.
At least I can see the sky again. It's midday, dead above us. There's a smattering of clouds to the west. If i was allowed to choose, there'd be more clouds. And it'd be raining.
I'm sweating bullets. My teeth are clenched. Hell, everything is clenched. My eyes are darting around, looking for something – ANYTHING – that can get me out of here, get me out of these shackles, away from these guards, away from that bloody rope! So far it's all just a bunch of people cheering from my inevitable demise.
I always did love being the centre of attention.
I keep snapping my fingers. In most books I've read, movies I've seen and tv shows I've watched, mages had to snap their fingers before they were able to conjure a flame. So far, I got nothing. But it's okay, it's okay. No need to panic, no need to-.
They start to walk me up the steps.
PANIC! RIGHT NOW! I AM GOING TO DIE! THERE ARE PEOPLE WATCHING, VERY INTENTLY, AS I AM LEAD UP TO THE GALLOWS TO WHERE THAT NOOSE LOOKS VERY MUCH LIKE A NECK TIE.
I see the captain, looking smug as he blows me a kiss goodbye. Dear Maker, if you strike that son of a bitch down, I'll put the noose around my neck myself. Please?
…
Fuck you too asshole. I look past the throng of people and see a blonde man in very fine clothes. Holy crap, I've got a King attending? And that's Loghain – dickhead – and there's the Cousland Clan! I even think I can make out little Aedan. And all my teachers said I'd amount to nothing. Guess I showed them!
Okay, even to me, that was dumb.
I take a breath and look through the crowd, trying to see if I can recognize anyone else. There's no way out. Fine. Just fucking fine. I'll wake up in a hospital and tell my brother about this crazy ass dream. We'll laugh and I'll move on and-.
HOLY MOTHER OF DARKSPAWN!
Is that?
No…
Can't be.
But it is!
No way…
Ho-lee shit.
I just found my way out. I just saw my salvation.
Duncan is at my execution. Warden-Commander, Commander of the Grey, Grey Warden Duncan, is at my execution. I'm saved!
What the hell's on my neck?
The noose is pulled over and tightened, cutting off my air supply and I gag. The knot lies behind my head and I know that I'm in for a painful death. I'm gonna slowly suffocate. If the knot was under my left ear, then my neck would break and I'd be dead in seconds, but now I'm just gonna hang there for 15 to 20 minutes slowly-.
Fuck you school for teaching me that. Fuck. You.
A sack is chucked over my head and I panic. What the hell do I do? How do I get Duncan to save me? He has to invoke the Right of Conscrption, but I've only got seconds to make him to that. Shit, think. What do I do what do I do?
Can't tell him about the Blight… Has to be something personal. Something that hits him, something that no-one else would know…
The crowd goes silent and I hear the headsman step away.
"DUNCAN I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE ARCHITECT AND FIONA'S SON!" I yell as loud as I can. Almost before I'm finished the ground under me gives way and I fall…
A/N: DUNN DUNN DUNNNN! Cliffhanger… or not?
Maybe the stories over, maybe it's not…
Ah, who am I kidding, I'm having too much fun with this ;D
Review now, or you are a party pooper. And that makes me sad :'(