[IC] Strait Up Theft

[Supercape]

Flintlock took a few darts and threw them at the board.

 

Not a bad shot, I am! she thought to herself. A bullseye, another one!, and the third missing the board together and juddering into the wall besides it. 

 

"I came here for darts!" she lied. 

 

"And conversation!" she said, neither truth nor lie. 

 

"And Cik!" she finished, in what she hoped was the truth. 

 

"Who is she? What kind of name is that? And whats so special about her?" she asked, hand on hip and trying, with some success, to appear attractive and saucy. "What's she got that I ain't eh? Does she play better darts than me? Wear better clothes? Drink more rum? Huh! I'd like to know what me competition is, sir!" she demanded. 

[olopi]

“She’s here occasionally. Usually with a few friends, groups of two or three, sometimes more. They come in here, have a few drinks, talk about stuff, maybe play some dart, and then leave. Usually don’t stay for too long, don’t seem like much of a pub-going crowd. All pretty young, too. Don’t know what gets ‘em here, maybe the drinks, maybe the food, maybe the atmosphere. They don’t interact with others too much. “

 

“I didn’t make it about competition, but if ya want to prove something, then go ahead. Not much happening tonight otherwise, and I’m always up for a show. “

Edited July 4, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

Why not?

 

Flintlock started throwing darts. She wasn't bad, but she wasn't particularly good either. After hundreds of years she had done plenty, but darts, not so much. Still, it didn't look like the competition was particularly fierce. It was not the world championships. 

 

"So, my friend. This Cik lady. What kind of name is that?" she asked, unfamiliar with any such name. At least, on this world. 

 

"Some kind of rapscallion is she? My favourite kind of person! How would I meet her?"

 

She hoped she did not sound like a crazed stalker. It was, probably, a forlorn hope, but still. Three hundred years was a long time, and even with her strange worlds, boredom could loom. But it had been some time since she had danced with pretty young girls, and she wagered it would be some time until she danced again. Men were her flavour, although, she conceded, as the years passed and the scars grew livid, even those pleasures had felt more grey. 

 

Enough of the melancholia! That way, madness lies!

 

"She sounds like a gal to meet!" she said, brightly. 

[olopi]

“Uncommon? You can say that again, yeah. Malay, I think? Not sure, but I recall her mentioning some things about growing up in a suburb of Kuala Lumpur. I’ve only ever met on other Cik before. Long time ago, a great lady. But, that’s a long and personal story.

 

Don’t really know what Cik does outside of coming here. Looks like more of a manual labourer. She’s quite athletic, but I have no idea where she’d be employed. I’ve heard her talk about her workout routine before. Crossfit, Parkour, all that fancy new stuff. "

 

Upon Flintlock’s comments about Cik’s personality, the man raised his eyebrow a tiny bit. Not a whole lot, but enough for it to be noticeable. He probably expected some motivation behind Flintlock’s asking, and chances were it was not “Cik stole her purse and now she wants it back.”

 

“Now, meeting her? She’s usually here on Fridays and Mondays. Not every week, but more often than not. If you really want to meet her, that’s your best shot. ”

Edited July 5, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

Parkour...that would be the girl...damned French! So crazy!

 

She was in no particular rush, as she understood things. But then again, maybe she did not understand things. The cargo was missing, her purse had been stolen, but on the other hand those things would be just as true and no more pressing tomorrow, or indeed the day after. 

 

She did not want to drop the thief from her reckoning, but Cik was surely faster and more nimble than Captain Flintlock, although it was a sting to admit it. Much as Flintlock would like to cross swords again (literally cross swords), Cik would take one look at her, recognise her, run, and be away. 

 

SHe made her excuses and a final throw of a dart, and left, feeling sober again. One Eyed Pete was outside. He was no fool, but her crew were not hired for their brains. 

 

"I need the crew to stake out this place on Monday. A girl named Cik is coming that evening. You, Rose, Lucy and Razor. Behave yourselves" she ordered. 

 

"Aye aye cap'n" smiled One eyed Pete, a massive grin on his face. Asked to hang out in a pub the evening? A fine business, to his mind. 

 

Flintlock contemplated commanding their sobriety, but knew that such an order would only propel them to greater inebriation. They would just have to catch Cik drunk. 

 

She sighed inwardly. 

 

And now, it was time to return to the wreckage of the meeting she had abandoned, to see what the fallout was. And perhaps pierce the veil of time to see what had truly happened....

[olopi]

A return it was. Was it out of curiosity, or did the sorceress have any plans? Her return would not be immediate however. She’d left the pub, and went back to her ship. There, she’d spend the rest of the night, and most of the early morning. Researching something, but what would it be?

 

And then, when the sun had already risen a fair way up over the horizon, she emerged from the depths of her ship. It had taken many hours, but she had completed what she had planned. It was time to head back. The streets were quite busy in the mornings, many people driving or walking to work, many more using public transport. Still, arriving at the location of yesterday’s black market was an easy task. The old warehouses unsurprisingly were not a location many people went to, so the masses soon became thinner and thinner, until only a few people could be seen as Flintlock moved ever closer to the old Warehouse.

Edited July 5, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

The ritual itself was awful, although admittedly compared to the clammy mists of Leng, a lesser horror. Clibing up to the top of a nearby building via drainpipes and old iron fire escapes, she laid out her parchments, inks, and black lamp. Into the latter, horrible oils from the kraken, an Arabian spice, and a petrified, almost putrid, avian eyeball. The lamp smoked and gave out an unpleasant sweet smell than curled the hairs in ones nose. 

 

Aza Har'Cthen...Aza Har'Cthen...Toka Yog-Sothooth Ibramhim! 

 

Invoking the name of the idiot Gods of the universe was not done lightly, especially with the smoke around them. For a second, she saw spinning morons, dancing unseen to unheard pipes in dimensions unknowable. Then, mercifcully, before her brain fried, the mists of time parted, and she was spinning herself, in a trance, sprawled out on the roof, while her mind went back to events the day before...

 

 

[olopi]

The visions were , like so many things magical, strange and hard to understand. Many things, many sensations. And little to make of it. It all felt strange, in ways unexplainable to those that had never dealt with the horros of magic before. Nausea, an uncomfortable feeling moving down one’s spine, many more things nobody would voluntarily experience.

 

And then, many sensations of all kinds. Every sense, being overloaded, adding another layer upon what was already going on with the mind. Flashing lights. The very unique sound of modern gunfire. The smell of blood. The taste of metal on one’s tongue. The sound of sirens, both ones mounted on a car but also ones luring sailors. The smell one would sense when standing close to an old factory. The taste of saltwater. An affectionate touch. The smell of fresh fish. Men’s voices, shouting. A sudden sharp pain, like being hit by a whip. And then, more sirens. The sensation of a cold breeze.

The visions started to become clearer. Less overload, it became more focused. Flintlock could feel her mind calming down, no longer being ripped apart by whatever horrors she had summoned, and their clearest message. Instead, around her, the very roof she had been standing on beforehand started to appear. Only in rough outlines, in only the colours of red and green. The celestial bodies were horrible to look at, something that even a mind as experienced as the sorceress’s could not handle for more than just a moment.

 

But then, a noise from below the streets. Speech. Various voices, talking. But not in an earthly language. Whatever the language was, it was nothing Flintlock could make out. On a closer look there were 4 figures, barely humanoid shapes of white, standing around something. Something, warped by these visions. A long object, about as high as the shapes and 3 times as long. Perhaps one of those modern automobiles? The figures continued talking. One of them merged with the shape, then separated again. Now hovering within the shape, a clearly defined rifle, of the automatic kind.

Edited July 8, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

So, arms dealers?

 

Flintlock might have preferred, predictably, her Flintlock, but that was nostalgia. She knew modern arms, and knew, in her heart (for all the fondness she had for black powder) that was an automatic rifle, and that automatic rifles were considerably more dangerous than her antique. 

 

More mysterious was the language. Nothing she could understand, let alone recognise. Something, she would imagine, that was not from this world. But which? The strange depths of Earth?, the cold stars of space? or realms beyond, the strange oceans that the Black Flag had sailed? 

 

And, now she thought about it, the shapes were not definitely human either. This might all explain the unearthly vanishing of the cargo. But what cargo? and, what had happened at the meeting?

 

Gathering resolve, crystalising will, she delved further...

 

 

[olopi]

Things continued. More talking, if one could refer to these strange noises as speech. The other figures did the same as the one before them. Soon, all four were holding various pieces of modern weaponry, the one thing well defined against a background of vibrant red. They moved around, but never strayed more than a few steps from where they had originally been. Was it uncertainty? Was it a plan? Against the sky, various tones of green, Flintlock could make out the outlines of a few buildings in the area. The one she had been standing on most obviously, but also the one she had been in yesterday. It was merely a red shape, not too far away but not close either. She’d picked a good view, most of the building’s side could be seen from where she was standing.

 

Then, suddenly, black. Nothing. As if one was conscious while sleeping. And just a second later, everything appeared again. The white shapes continued standing where they were. And then, a shape burst out through the wall of red representing the black market’s location. A shape of yellow, moving. It moved rather quickly, heading towards the four white ones. Around a few corners in the empty red, possibly alleyways? Just a few seconds later, noise. Once again it sounded like speech, once again in a language most alien. But this time, it sounded more like a shout, possibly a swear, rather than calm speech. All the shapes frantically moved, before settling down moments later. And then, the sound of gunfire, as Flintlock had heard just before. The white shapes had opened fire, but the yellow one seemed to be fighting back. A pistol of some sort, perhaps?

Edited July 8, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

GM

 

Its war!

 

A small scale one, to be sure, but she could smell it! Like the old nautical battles of centuries past. Gunfire, screams, chaos! She almost missed it. 

 

What was the black? What had happened? Did she want to know? Merciful was ignorance, for the comprehension of that which was beyond nothing was also beyond sanity. 

 

So something had come from the black market. Something, perhaps that the aliens (of one meaning of 'tuther) were waiting for, or at the very least recognised. 

 

Suspicions and speculations fermented in her brain. There was more than one theft going on here? Like a bauble tossed between wild children. 

 

She wondered where she would be in this melee. She had always fancied herself as purple, but she also fancied that the gods of beyond did not care for her fancies, and her colour would be as it was through the horrible lens she had summoned. Or beyond colours at all...

 

And so, she peered on...

[olopi]

The firefight continued, neither side seemingly getting the upper hand. A lot of gunfire, for a few more seconds. Another shape, this one a colour of blue, came moving, it’s origin the same as the yellow one, the warehouse. It moved, it shouted, and added its own gunfire to the cacophony of death. It fought the shapes in white, outnumbered but at least not alone. A few more seconds of violence, when another shape of blue separated itself from the warehouse and started moving. And just then, more shouting, a cry of pain. The yellow shape released a cloud of black, which quickly rose upwards into the sky of green, like some kind of gas. The yellow became weaker at the same time, starting to fade into the red behind it.

 

More shapes appeared around the warehouse. They formed a large mass of yellow, occasionally a different colour stood out. Some green, a few splotches of white. Some moved frantically, becoming an own entity for a short time before merging back into the mass, but most of them seemed to wait. One or two more blue ones moved towards the firefight. The yellow mass grew, when a strange figure walked out of the red wall. The sight was not something Flintlock could endure. Just a glance was enough to warp her every sense, her eyes reflexively turned away. This was something she could not endure, even intoxicated. The sound of gunfire still ringed in her ears, and the sensation of cool wind still moved across her entire body. But now, she also felt nauseous.

Edited July 8, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

This was a most unpalatable rainbow of colours. 

 

She could not, at the moment, decipher it, make sense of it, dissect it, or analyse it. It was more a feeling. Of armies of colour, colliding, transforming, melding. Like inks in a pot. Clouds of black, walls of red, oceans of green. Presumably oceans of amber and mountains of mauve. But there was a feeling, in her mind, of something alien. Something of war. 

 

And the sensations brought back floods of memories, of the Island, of the Sorcerer, of horrible texts and torturous punishments. Of mad rites, and insane cults. And things beyond the veil that she could not quite recall and was most grateful she could not. How small, she. How small, humankind. Even the infinite seemed paradoxically insignificant and tiny. 

 

She felt a blackness overwhelm her, and gratefully sank into it...

[olopi]

And then once more, black. A void, nothing. Like the one before, it felt like sleeping. A complete lack of sensations, bar something terrible whispering quietly in the background. Whispers, as old as existence itself. This time however, the black did not suddenly disappear. It stayed. Completely helpless, Flintlock was floating through it, unable to do as much as move her limbs. The exact time it took she would not be able to recall, for her mind did not act sane.

 

And then, suddenly, the sensations appeared again. This time only for a brief moment. And then, the red again, the rough shapes of the Singaporean skyline melding into the green sky above them in the distance. Below the sorceress, the same alley as before, and not too far removed, the warehouse.  This time, there were more shapes inside the alleyway. About a dozens of them, all orange. Some moving, some standing in one spot. The sound of sirens, warped but still recognizable sounded throughout the background, sounding over the speech, still in a language different from ones Flintlock recognized.

Edited July 10, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

By Dagon, what were they speaking? She had sailed the seas for three centuries, and spoke several languages fluently. And yet this, she could not even recognise. 

 

Whatever they spoke, she could only guess that the Police had come. Possibly the fire brigade, possibly the ambulances. But mainly the police, The sirens, the gunshots. But it was still, as far as her mind could make out, a mystery. 

 

She cursed every colour of the rainbow. Oranges, reds, greens. Everything was maddening. Only the impenetrable blackness was worse. 

 

Forcingg her eyes to look, forcing her ears to hear, she kept watch. Perhaps some clue as to what the blazes had happened...

[olopi]

The shapes stayed for a few more seconds. They shifted around a spot, close to where the last shape had released dark gas into the air before being engulfed in the red background. They continued talking. Other than that, not a lot happened. Some sounds in the background, a few other shapes walking around. And then, suddenly, Flintlock felt incredibly nauseous again.  Her vision started spinning, her skin felt as if thousands of tiny knives had just poked her. It was not so much pain as itching. Her vision gave out completely, as the strange ancient whispering that existed in the background became louder and louder, until it suddenly stopped.

 

Suddenly, the sorceress found herself standing in an empty void. Completely dark, in all directions. And then, something appeared at her feet. A fish. Another fish. Soon, it became a hundred fish. And the amount of fish continued to increase. The smell was sickening, and soon the fish had reached up to Flintlock’s chest. All the way to the horizon, fish. Masses and masses of fish. And moving her own limbs was not possible for the sorceress, not only because of the masses of fish holding them down, she had not been able to move any limbs to begin with.

As the fish continued to stack up, breathing became ever more difficult. Soon, the fish had completely surrounded Flintlock. Everywhere, there were fish. And then, she started to feel how a fish had just appeared inside her mouth. Another one, and another one, this one appearing further down her windpipe. And at the same time, one inside her gullet. It continued, until Flintlock could breathe no more.

 

And then, she was lying on the floor back where she had been standing before her ritual had begun.

Edited July 10, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

By David Jones!

 

Every sailor has nightmares of drowning, and Flintlocks nightmares were more vivid than most. Fish! A thousand fish, spawn of Nyub Siggurath! Aiieee! Aiieee!

 

She wiped hands through hair wild and damp with sweat. No, surely it was just fish. But what was this peculiar vision? What was the symbolism? Or was she finally going mad, one insane ritual too many. Whatever the case, she felt uncomfortably like she now had more questions that when she began. 

 

Time then, for detective work, the mundane way. 

 

Climbing down from the rooftop, she made her way back to the market, searching for clues...

 

 

[olopi]

In these morning hours, the area was slowly starting to wake up. In the distance cars could be heard, occasionally even the distinct sound of trucks reversing. Fortunately, enough, the buildings around where Flintlock was now looked completely abandoned, the only exception being the not-as-desolate looking Black Market. As Flintlock had descended from the stairs, she could smell a lingering hint of gunpowder. Not enough to really stand out, yet it was there, her nose being very familiar with the smell. It was not recent, it had been in the air for some time, yet it had not fully disappeared either.

 

Entering the street, the firefight had happened at according to the voices from beyond, the Sorceress was greeted with tape in blue and white, dragged from one building’s wall to the one opposite. “Police”. Yet, no police were to be seen behind the tape. Further on, she could see various numbers written on paper, attached to the ground, but also the buildings.

Edited July 19, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

Gazooks! The peelers are afoot!

 

It was all so much simpler when law enforcement was done by the army and navy; largely buffoons in uniforms. 

 

Gunpowder? Ah, but what type? How she wished for the nose of a dog. 

 

No police to be seen though. Surely the tapes and get out signs were not meant for her. I mean, laws were so tedious. 

 

With a swish of her knife, she theatrically cut through the tape and entered the building. For all her boldness, she did her best to be quiet. Whilst she would prefer to use her tongue, or, if need be, her sorcery, there was no actual need to draw attention to herself. 

 

Sometimes, Incognito is best! she said to herself with a smile. With that in mind, she dusted down her pirate dress, readjusted her her pirate hat, and strode in...

[olopi]

The warehouse was quite the contrast to yesterday. Completely empty, not a single soul. The space looked a lot bigger now that not a single person apart from Flintlock herself were inside. The light was off, but thanks to sunlight making its way through the windows close to the ceiling, it was just as, if not more bright than last time she’d been here.

 

Still, the hall was not completely empty. Various booths still stood, abandoned in panic, either because of gunshots outside or a horror inside. Some stood upright, quite a few were overturned. Others had probably been dismantled, as Flintlock remembered some, where now none stood.  Perhaps it was the police, perhaps the merchants themselves. Looking around further, one thing stood out. Various bullet-holes, scattered around the ceiling, and a few along the walls.

 

 

Edited July 20, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

"Well, they fell for it good and proper" said Flintlock to the empty building, hands on hip, inspecting the roof. 

 

Satisfying as it was, bullet holes where she expected bullet holes to be was not advancing her investigation. 

 

It was a long shot perhaps, but it was the best shot she could have. The building had been, to her eyes, stripped bare. But there was the meeting room, with the ledger. She had been in a most furious rush beforehand, and drunk as a skunk. She felt a little more sober now, although her head pounded something rotten. 

 

It was worth another look. She would do her best to be meticulous this time. Not a trait she did well at, but she could focus if she had too. 

 

Up the stairs then, to search further...

[olopi]

As Flintlock went up the stairs, something was off. There were stairs here, yes. They led up to the platform they had led to before, too. But, there, nothing. The platform, and nothing bordering it, when last time she had been here there had been a bouncer and door here. Did it disappear? No, it couldn’t possible have, right?

 

A few firm knocks onto the wall confirmed that yes, the door was still there. Hidden, invisible to the outside eye. She hadn’t realized this last time she’d been here, but here it was, a hidden door, leading into an office and meeting room. Unsurprisingly, shady business was afoot! From both the sound, and what Flintlock remembered from last time, the door was heavy. Not impossibly heavy, but enough that it would take some effort to open.

Edited July 22, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

"By Dagon's black heart! What am I, a troll?" she grunted, pushing at the door. 

 

She disliked Trolls, most heartily. Aside from their irritable nature (and most irritable they were too), they were uncouth, ugly, and had a tendency (at least in her experience) to burp the most foul, noxious air. Like a fermenting swamp. She could only imagine the odour of gas escaping from the other end. 

 

Tucking her knife under her skirt, and her pistol (safety on!) into her sash, she heaved into the door with all her strength. 'Twas not that she was a weakling. Nay, not that, she told herself. But perhaps the years drinking rum in the captains cabin rather than scrubbing decks and heaving sails had sapped her limbs of a little strength. 

 

Well, mayhap I have lost a little of my vigour! But I am three hundred years old! Aye, and more!

 

Her lungs and sinews strained on the door...

[olopi]

It took a few pushes, but after the third or so, the door gave in. It opened in one swift motion, while Flintlock was still pushing against it, making her tumble into the room alongside the door swinging into the wall inside the room.

 

There was no lighting in the room at all, it was completely dark apart from the bit of light shining in through the door. Yet, from what Flintlock could tell while still getting up, it looked the same as the last time she had stumbled into the room through that door. A table in the middle, various files on the side. The ones Flintlock had not taken looked mostly intact, untouched.  It seemed whoever had returned to the room after the big shootout to close the door had been in enough of a hurry to not carry anything out.

 

So, here Flintlock was, a dark room, filled with a lot of files. And hopefully, a lot of time. There had to be something here. Amongst all the ledgers, encrypted texts, keys for said encryptions and other things one could find stored in this room.

Edited July 22, 2016 by olopi

[Supercape]

Flintlock drummed her fingers together in anticipation!

 

Booty!

 

Yay, booty of a different nature to gold and silver, rubies and gems. But information could be booty too. Sometimes more valuable. 'Twas better to avoid a fleet of angry Frenchmen by spies and informants than to sail with a cargo full of gold and get shot to the depths of the sea. 

 

She thanked the stars, both the living ones and the dead ones too. There was something here to salvage, like a drowning man kissing a piece of driftwood. 

 

As far as she could tell, there was no hurry. And, she supposed, if there was, and interruptions sprung, then by her hat, she would conjure up something horrible to scare them away, like last time!

 

And so, feet on desk, rear on chair, she started to sift...