bringmethatnpc | (no subject)

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at world's end

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Deep in a bayou near the mouth of the Pantano River, a wooden shack sits among twisted vines, high roots, and still, stagnant water. Moonlight illuminates the scene, and the shack is lit from within by what seems like hundreds of candles. A single lantern at the entrance beckons all those who dare to step over the threshold.

Not long ago, only a few days or so, the shack and tangle of surrounding trees was the site of a wake for Captain Jack Sparrow.

The shack had been overflowing with pirates that night. Tia Dalma offered drinks to fight the chill and the sorrow, and the return of another dead pirate gave the crew hope where previously there had been none. Some of those pirates seemed to disappear that night. No one asked too many questions, however, as the shack is bigger than it appears on the outside and the unexpected is to be expected wherever Tia Dalma is found.

But now the missing parties are starting to return. Some are even accompanied by people who had not been there before.

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Ragetti's lurking somewhere at the back of the group. He doesn't actually say anything, but he does make a general noise of agreement at Elizabeth's statement, eager to hear the plan.

"Well, Barbossa, are you gonna tell them, or should I?" Gibbs wonders just how long he'll be able to defer to the old traitor. It's already hard.

Barbossa raises his hands slowly, giving both Gibbs and Elizabeth a faint nod of approval.

"Ah, eagerness. Such is the fire of such deep feelings, that can override patience and propriety, isn't it? I will speak now that our crew is, so to speak, assembled and attentive, being as it is that we as a group have a worrying tendency to pay attention to none but our own selves."

He makes a pause, not so much dramatic as fastidious, his lips curling in a smile as he spots the monkey.

"Why hello, Jack. Now truly we are ready to start our quest."

Drawing himself up, he takes a slow, deep breath.

"As several of you know already, we need three things to get us to the Locker, where Jack and the Pearl await. One, a ship. Two, a crew. And three, a means to chart a course to a place what appears in no map. All three of them we can find at Singapore, where Sao Feng rules over the seas with his fleet. He will provide us with a ship and crew. In Singapore too there lie, watched over in an ancient temple, a set of charts that are said to hold the key to the courses leading to those destinations what no wind alone will ever blow a ship to, those places no current flows towards or from. Those places, in sum, that are outside of God's good Earth."

He can't help his glance to land on the superstitious first mate as he speaks the last of his tirade. Then he pauses, knowing there are bound to be questions.

Will's only question is simple, his attention all on Barbossa and determinedly not looking at Elizabeth.

"Why will he provide us with the crew?"

"A crew -and- a ship, young mister Turner. The trip across the Pacific is both long and demanding, and we won't have the time or the manpower to spare for such things as trimming the hull or repairing the lines and sails. Once we arrive in Singapore, I have no doubt we will have to move quickly and that means getting a ship from Sao Feng. As to why he will lend us his help..."

Barbossa smiles, amused and haughty, but there's a fierce, smoldering gleam deep in his dark eyes as he leans forwards to rest his fingertips on the table, face turned up towards the assembled crew.

"A time is coming where a pirate will have to make a stand. The enemy we face, this Lord Cutler Beckett, is not like the ones we have faced before. Unlike the times when pirates have fought each other, this time we face an organized fleet, backed by the power and the wealth of a kingdom. Unlike the times we fought the navies of the world, this enemy owes loyalty to no one and nothing, and cares for no law, no Code, but the accumulation of power. This man shows no fear of the supernatural, regarding it as a mere tool..."

There is unmistakable spite and loathing in the tone with which he pronounces these words. Then he straightens back up, head tilted back to look around slowly.

"No pirate can face this threat alone, and no ship can have a hope of outmaneuvering the Flying Dutchman, but the Pearl. A Pirate Lord of the Brethren like Sao Feng will know that."

And this is where that smile of his, the one that looks like he knows the punchline to the joke that the Universe is trying to tell, widens into a satisfied little grin.

"And that, mister Turner, is the reason why Sao Feng will help us."

Something very like approval flickers across Elizabeth's face at Barbossa's diatribe, and the words Pirate Lord of the Brethren resonate in her mind. The indignation slowly turns to a look of wary interest.

"Sao Feng will be told it's Jack and his ship we seek?" Elizabeth interjects, voice raised to carry over the low murmur that follows the announcement.

Or perhaps that is just Jack chattering in her ear.

Barbossa's smile is gone briefly as he turns towards Elizabeth a face suddenly solemn.

"That would be the case, I'm afraid, miss Swann. You see, maybe you have the wrong idea about piratical hospitality, no doubt fueled by having entertained the company of such charming captains as Jack and meself..."

And the amused half-smile is back on his face as he says so.

"But I seriously doubt Sao Feng would lend us one of his ships and enough of his men to crew it without a sound reason."

Bristling, Elizabeth swats at the monkey and narrows her eyes, chin up.

"Yes, I recall saying something similar myself," is her cool response. "Let us hope he considers Jack a sound reason to help."

"Consider this, miss Swann. Do you think there is any man in this world that would have better reasons than me to leave Jack to rot in the Locker? And yet here I am, helping to bring him back to life."

And at that, he smiles his amused, derisive little smirk and nods with a small roll of his eyes, as if mildly frustrated at having to point out the obvious.

"You have my personal guarantee that Sao Feng doesn't hate Jack Sparrow more than I do."

"Your personal guarantee?"

Her smirk mimics his own and is quickly gone.

"You still haven't told us how we are to travel to Singapore," Elizabeth points out, turning her steady gaze upon Gibbs.

Gibbs clears his throat, and his mind.

"First thing, Barbossa and I will go back to Tortuga and hire a small ship to come here and take us to the coast of Panama. I know a few men who might be persuaded to do me a favor for the right compensation." He looks at Tia Dalma, trusting that she is the one who can foot the bill.

"Once we reach Panama, we can steal some mules from one of the settlements on the Atlantic and follow the old trail Admiral Morgan followed last century across the ismuth to Panama City. It'll be a bit of rough riding, but it will only take a day or two. In the city, there should be a fair number of good Spanish vessels come up the coast from the silver mines, and we can take one and begin the trip across the Pacific." By "take" he means steal.

"Thank you, master Gibbs, for your clear and concise exposition."

He nods to the pirate and makes a brief, thoughtful pause.

"With a little luck and observation, we might even be able to capture a ship carrying some spoils to further finance our expedition."

His gaze moves over the assembled group once more as he takes a half step back from the table and crosses his arms.

"Anyone has any further doubts that should be discussed at this moment...?"

Will shifts slightly, head raising, and glances around the assembly to see if anyone will speak out.

"And the charts? How do you propose we get hold of those?"

"Same way we get a hold o' everything else in this expedition, I'm assuming."

It's the first time Mal's spoken, and the only time he's thought it'd been needed.

Barbossa smiles both at Will's question and Mal's intervention.

"Ah, Captain Reynolds, a man of the world, I see. Yes, unfortunately the charts are kind of a... Religious relic to the heathen priests. So I'm afraid yes, stealth and thievery are going to be the only way to get them."

He doesn't seem exceedingly disturbed at the prospect. Shocking, isn't it?

Will personally isn't surprised. Or daunted. He just nods.

"Now, time -will- be a factor once we get to Singapore, so I propose the... Liberation of those charts be undertaken simultaneously to our negotiations with Sao Feng. By a small group, probably no more than one man or two."

And here his gaze falls upon Will and Mal once more. Will, after all, has quite a history of sneaking into places and Mal... Well, he -does- seem like a gentleman of fortune, doesn't he? Plus, he'd rather not have either of them at his back in Sao Feng's lair.

"[At your service]," Mal retorts under his breath in sarcastic Chinese.

Not that anyone notices the inherent sarcasm, beyond his barely-suppressed eyeroll.

Looking to Will, Mal winks.

There's a flicker of a familiar smile for Mal, casual and companionable for all it fades when Will looks back to Barbossa.

"When do we set sail?"

Barbossa's eyebrows raise slightly, and he looks around like a speaker asking for support.

"Sometimes I wonder why do I bother to speak in English, certainly. As has already been said, mister Turner, first mister Gibbs and I will sail to Tortuga to hire" There is a mild distaste in the way he pronounces that word "a crew and ship that can sail us to Panama. -Then- we will come fetch the rest of you."

He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms.

"Have I been clear enough or should I repeat it, using smaller words this time?"

Having held her tongue in sullen silence as long as she can stand, Elizabeth finds this last comment to be too much.

"You've been clear enough about that part of the plan," she shoots back. "Less so about others. But I think it's obvious we're done here. We will await your return from Tortuga."

Giving the assembled group a twitchy nod of her head, she stalks outside.

She hadn't walked with him, but over by her table Tia Dalma lovingly strokes the bright plumage of a stuffed bird and listens without expression.

Elizabeth storms out; the talk seems done, and she turns about, delciate fingers picking through the assortment of objects on the table.

She won't need to bring much.

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