Let's get out of here!

[Robert]

Eleanore "Mastbean" Duskeag sat sullenly in the dank prison cell he'd been given. The stocky, well-built man tugged at his beard in frustration. How could it have happened? How could the Mad Bonnie have fallen? He asked himself that question over and over again. It was really all he could do while he sat on the cold stone floor, practically naked save for his breeches and black undertunic. The rest of his gear had been swiped and would probably be sold by the guards of the Scara Brae prison the next morning.

The Mad Bonnie, one of the great pirate ships of the Althanian seas, had been burned at sea. It was taken by the combined might of the Corone and Scara Brae navies, and Mastbean had been there when the longnines had ripped apart the planks, the mast had fallen, and the great Captain Barkbriar was mortally wounded. By the time the Mad Bonnie had been boarded by the fleet, Eleanore had been thrown overboard, madly paddling his way through the sea to safety. In the end, the pirate crew of the Mad Bonnie had been served to justice, and Eleanore and another of the crew had been brought to Scara Brae to pay for their crimes in prison.

The pirate ship had been his land and life for over five years, and now it was gone.

"GONE!" Mastbean found himself shouting into the confines of his own cell. He punched one of the stone walls several times, his knuckles becoming red and bloody. Dejectedly, he slumped against one of the prison walls, wondering what had become of his other crewmate, the infamous Firewater.

[Raphael]

"Stay tha' 'ell in ye'r hole, rat!" A guard growled as he threw Firewater in a cell. The pirate had no idea what he was so angry about. After all, it was the guards who called him out in the first place, hearing tales of the stories the boy could weave. It wasn't his fault that he took a sip from their drinks everytime they turned their backs, or even when their backs didn't move at all. Needless to say, the sentries wanted him out not five minutes after he'd gotten there.

"Your drink was worse company than you, ya 'atemonger!" Raphael spat back in retort. He sat up, grabbing at his arm to ease it's pain. His cell was rank with the scent of must, the air so think it stole the air from your lungs. Light was scare dungeon, making the pirate dread what lay inside. This wasn't Firewater's first time in lock-up, and if he escaped it wouldn't be his last. The lad knew rotting corpses were all too common, decaying on the stones. He crawled back a little, feeling for a nearby wall. His eyes had yet to adjust from the brightly lit sentry chambers. His hands felt things he didn't wish to picture until he finally found something to lean against.

The boy breathed in deeply and then let out a sigh just as deep, his stained undershirt heaving with his breath. Memories of The Mad Bonnie and its crew flooded into his mind, but all he could feel was guilt. In truth, even though he had spent nearly a year sailing under captain Barkbriar, he'd never felt any connection to the Bonnie. Sure he had had a great time from port to port, although he couldn't remember a lot of it. But something never sat right with him on the Bonnie. Barkbriar was an okay man, but he couldn't stand a shadow's chance when measured up to Blackwood. And when Blackwood lost Firewater in a pokerhand, it had changed him. He'd been a part of Blackwood's crew, he'd been alone on the Bonnie. Maybe it was because Blackwood had been his mentor, the only father figure he had ever known. He taught the boy how to fight, how to navigate, "Damnit, 'e taught me to drink!"

"Still, the Bonnie weren't so bad. People were nice enough. 'Ad a great stock of ales and rums, that's for sure. Guess I'll miss the ol' gal. Right now though, I need to figure a way out of 'ere." Suddenly, he remembered the other crew member to escape. He couldn't recall the man's name but remembered the face. A stout bearded fellow, strong as any beast that walked Althanas. Raphael hoped he was nearby, or atleast could hear his voice.

"'Ey, 'ey acquai'." He spoke to the darkness, his youthful face smirking at the prospect, rubbing his budding whiskers. "Nearby acquai'?"

[Robert]

After sulking on the floor of his cell for a few minutes, Mastbean decided he was already tired of prison life. He gave the bars to his cell a shake, to see that they were quite solid, if a bit rusty. The only thing keeping him from the outside world was a lock. Well, Mastbean certainly had options.

Rearing his hand back, the former pirate felt his fist become cold, iron like. His right hand was changing, though the darkness of the cell revealed nothing.

CLANG-SNAP went the lock of the cell as an iron mace punched the door loudly. Bits and pieces of lock fell to the floor with small tinkling sounds. Mastbean raised his arm in triumph - an arm that was a thick iron mace from the elbow on. His curse was once more a powerful gift.

Of course, it was also a gift that tended to attract attention. Footsteps began to echo as a man ran down the hall of the prison cellblock. "WHAT THUH 'ELL WUZZAT?!" a guard shouted as he flew to the source of the disturbance. Mastbean jumped out of the cell just as the man arrived.

"That's," the mace-handed man began, "The sound o' liberation." And he brought his mace hand down on the guards head. "It's very loud, and ye only 'ear it when somethin' breaks." With a thud, the nameless cannon-fodder guard fell to the ground. Mastbean knew that he had the element of surprise at his mace-tip, but the next scuffle might not be so fortunate.

He began scouring the prison bracket, a long stone hallway lit by torches, a door at each end of the hall. After hearing the first guard shout, Mastbean had no doubt that there would soon be more men to deal with and so he had to act fast. Firewater, the matter was about Firewater, and the pirate had to find his brethren-at-sea as soon as he could. Eleanore Duskeag went from cell to cell, peering through the bars, going from one man to the next before he found his man. THe bandanna was unmistakeable.

"Firewater." Mastbean announced. "Stand back."

And then there were two free pirates in the Scara Brae prison.

[Raphael]

((Bunnying Approved.))

Off in the distance, Raphael heard the sound of metal smash. It was a sound he had been expecting and a smile began to play on his face, a grin that grew wider when he heard the guard knocked out. Powerful steps lumbered down the narrow hall, the faint tourchlight almost flickered when a new shape appeared. Short and broad, one could tell the bearded fellow was a man of action. Firewater suddenly realized why he couldn't remember the man's name. "'E 'as too goddamn many of 'em!" So the lad had just decided to forget them all.

It was all business when it came to the man, and Raphael didn't need to be told twice. He leapt up and moved back a few, trying his best to keep a safe distance from the smashing. He'd never been a big fan of smashing. Within moments the door's lock had been broken, and his savior able to pry it open. Quickly, firewater stepped out of his former prison with all the grace of an adolescent and none of the excuses.

"Easy part's done with acquai." He said with a wink, walking into some light for a change. "But now, now comes the 'ard part. I've gotta' get my stuff back, 'specially my sword." The two agreed quickly enough, the man wasn't going to leave without his things either. Cautiously, the crept down the hallway to the only exit, stepping over the guard who Firewater could only hope was unconscious. The lad knew where to go, he remembered the path he'd be dragged to and from with the guards, and knew which room they were keeping their gear in. As they stepped out of the holding area into the far brighter hallway, The faint smells of smoke played on Firewater's nose. It was late, and many of the guards would be asleep in their barracks, but for the few who stood watch, it was time to gamble.

Quietly the pair crept, Raphael now and then giving the man a hand gesture to soften his step. Without an encounter, the pair had come to their destination. A small guard room with crate upon crate, stores of food and contraband. The lad remembered the guards hanging out here, food and drink handy nearby. He had something in mind, and knew it would be their best chance for escape. Releasing the cautious tension, he strolled inside as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Wha'en tha' 'ell!? Why are ya' out and about?" Immediately, the guard who threw him in stood up, careful to lay his card face down. He had a hateful look on his face, but seemed curious at the same time.

"The sentry that were watchin' me, said you were needin' a bit of entertainment, love." He cooly turned his head, as if he couldn't care less. In truth though, he was checking to make sure the man was out of sight near the doorway. "Sayin' something about you being a bit stressed lately. Pretty face might release you some." He was shameless, but the guards faces showed only intrigue, like they had early in the day. He was never one to whore himself off without some love, or at least not without the right amount of alcohol in him. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Come 'ere then." The second guard beckoned with the sexual appeal of a pig. Raphael glided over as best he could, playing stupid came naturally to him for better or for worse. The two sentries started up their came again, betting small coinage. Not until a third hand did Firewater make his move, a move he'd done a hundred times at gambling houses.

"Love, I think 'e may be takin' advantage of you." He whispered into the second guard's ear, a grimace of worry on his face. It had be sheer luck that this guard had lost the last five hands, making him all the more susceptible to the roes. The second guard glared at the first, he turned his head as if confused by the pirates words. His head suddenly became upright again.

"I think you've won just'a few two many hands." The words came out barbed as an arrow. The first guard reacted quickly, slamming his hand down and standing up.

"Are ya' callin' me a cheat?" In fact, he had been cheating the entire game, sometimes with more success. But no one in the room knew at the time. "If so, I want ya' ta' come righ' out an' say it!" The second guard stood up with the same ferocity as the first, not even caring about the cards as he scattered them. The second leaned across to tackle the first, but his head was met wish a harsh hammer of a fist. The firsts hand came down hard on top of his skull, his face crashing into the large crate they had used as a table. Firewater saw his chance.

Jumping up, he kneed the unconscious guard out of the way. Thinking quick, he threw a punch at the first, putting all his strength in it. Unfortunately, guards are trained well, and the first one merely stepped out of the way, almost laughing at Raphael's attempt. Soon the lad went flying across the floor, a harsh fist slamming into his cheek. He could understand why the second guard had been knocked out easily as he lay on the cold stone, holding his face and cursing himself. "Damnit Acquai. Now's a good enough time if any to get in 'ere!."

[Robert]

Mastbean (for that was the name most oft used to call him) burst into the room just as Firewater was ploughed over. The guard tilted his head in surprise, but quickly adapted as he had been trained to. He reached for a mug of grog from the table behind him and pitched it at Mastbean, who reflexively swat the drink with his mace hand. The drink shattered, and the guard dove for the man's left side. With one hand he yanked the pirate's left hand down, punching at the man with his other fist.

The blow sent Mastbean reeling on his feet, but he had definitely taken worse. Wasting no time, the guard darted around the pirate; or he would have, but Mastbean latched onto the guard's arm with his hand, tugging him close and swinging his mace-hand into the guard's skull from the side. This was quickly ducked as the man burrowed his head into Mastbean's chest before punching the pirate again; another fierce blow, in the gut. Mastbean had underestimated the prowess of the Scara Brae prison keepers.

The pirate shoved the guard away, lowered his shoulder and rammed into the man, his face becoming red as he tried to regain his breath. The guard grunted as he planted his feet, and the two men stood shoulder to shoulder, trying to outmuscle one another. After a moment, Mastbean lifted one of his legs and kicked the guard in his unprotected nether regions. This fight was taking too long.

There was a brief pause where the guard's eyes widened, in shock or in disbelief, before the pirate grabbed the guard's shirt and thrust his mace-hand into the man's gut. A tingling warmth enveloped his arm as Mastbean found the cold iron mace quickly transforming once more into flesh and bone. He punched the fighter once in the head for good measure before throwing him to the ground. Mastbean panted for a moment, but he believed that the gentleman would not be getting up just yet.

"There'll be more." The stout man panted as he helped Firewater to his feet. The two pirates searched the room and quickly found a hold of their possessions; clothing and weapons alike. Throwing on his shirt, skull cap and jerkin, Mastbean added: "Let's givum a wyrm's farewell." And then he ducked out of the room. Back in the hallway beyond, torches were held in iron rings against the walls. He gently slipped one of these fiery rods out of its holster. He then collected the other mug of grog still resting on the table amidst scattered cards, and ripped a length of fabric off one of the guards' shirts. The plan was on.

Dousing the shirt in grog, Mastbean ran with Firewater through the prison, seeking out the closest exit, holding the torch high.

[Raphael]

((Bunnying Approved))

To say the least, Firewater was relieved when his former crewmate burst into the room. The struggle between him and the consious guard looked tough, and the lad was thankful he wasn't part of it. After some effort, his savior had beaten the guard with those freaky metal arms of his, although some dirty fighting seemed to help a bit as well. The sentry had finally collapsed, groaning in his last consious moment and if he hadn't already had children, there was no use trying anymore. Firewater was on his feet as soon as he was sure both guards were out. Following Mastbean's lead the boy quickly threw on his coat and gathered his sword, tightening it in his makeshift sash. Raphael approached his shipmate preparing to give him a word of thanks, but soon found Mastbean preparing a scheme in his head. Only a quick pun was needed for Firewater to understand what the stout man was getting at.

The two padded quickly into the hallway, only stopping for a quick moment to see if any guards lay in wait. Thankfully the passages were clear, giving room for Mastbean to quickly slip a tourch from the wall. Firewater couldn't help but show his glee, cheerful at the idea of such a distraction. Soon however, that glee turned to shock as the warrior poured perfectly good alcohol to help the fire spread. "What are you doin'! I could've drunken that you know. Cloth catches fire just fine on its own!" Said the lad in a tone that he hoped would bring the grog back. When he finally realized it was gone, he merely shrugged. Once he escaped, he knew he'd take a nice long drink in every pub from Scara Brae to Salvar.

With a simple hand gesture, Firewater beckoned his acquai to follow. Down the halls they snuck, the lad as soft as the shadows that danced before the tourches, Mastbean's more lumbering form nearly as silent. The young pirate was sure he knew where the exit was, he was half awake when the guards had dragged him through the stone passages. 'And I can only 'ope that 'alf is leadin' me now...' Soon, the screams of fire rang through the halls as footsteps rushed towards the back room. The guards the two had knocked out had finally come to, awakening the entire barracks with their cries.

The exit was just ahead of them, the white light of the moon peered in through a door left ajar, the guards guarding it ran off to fight the blaze. Firewater and his companion knew that guards would be down those halls after them at any moment, knew the guards would mention their encounter. Dreaded footsteps near their exit almost made Raphael's heart stop. Thinking quickly, he grabbed Mastbean and dragged him into a nearby room, shutting the door as swiftly as he could. He let out a sigh of relife, hearing those hurried footsteps move further down the hall.

The room where they hid was dark, only a few lit candles played in the air. But as the lad surveyed the room, it became apparant quickly as to the danger the two pirates were in. For in that room where atleast a dozen set of eyes, all staring at them. Soon he could make out faces, fair and tanned skin, eyebrows arched in rage. It finally dawned on the boy where he now hid, the sentry bedchambers. The sound of steel coming loose from its sheeth rang clear in the dark, and Raphael needed no more warning. In a flash he ran out the door, screaming and flailing his arms as his boots made a mad dash for the exit. Behind him stumbled a confused Mastbean, and behind him ran five or so half dressed sentries with weapons drawn.

As soon as he burst through the doorway, Firewater began to shut the heavy wooden door, its iron latches scratching almost moaning. The lad stopped for only a second as the large form of his acquai ran through as well. The two quickly slammed the heavy thing, the sounds of ramming clearly heard on the other side. Leaning back against it, the pirate spotted several crates nearby. "Put them in front acquai!" He said quickly, his voice dipping near the end as a heavy slam caught him off guard.

[Robert]

((Bunnying Approved))

Firewater pressed himself against the door, enduring the pressure while Mastbean set to work. He practically flew to the crates, gripping one in his thick arms and heaving the heavy wooden box in front of the door. And then Mastbean did it again. The fact was, it was not unlike the sort of work these pirates did everytime they hit port.

When three boxes stood between the pirates and the door, Firewater and Mastbean turned and ran down the flight of steps that would take them to the top of the hill overlooking the main city. Yells shook the night sky, and a bell was tolling at the top of the prison; it shouted out the jailbreak message into the sky. When the two pirates found the hilltop, the torchlight of the city dimly visible beneath them, they could hear the footfalls of several men nearby.

"Don't let them escape! Bring them back!" orders were shouted from the left and right. Firewater simply threw his hand forward and the two were bailing down the hill toward the city with the prisonkeepers of Scara Brae chasing at their tails. Through the underbrush the pirates fled, stomping leaves and insects in their wake as they could see that the city was not far from them, the sunset quickly approaching.

The golden hue illuminated the city as though to welcome Firewater and Mastbean as they reached the city grounds. They slipped past a final tree and set foot on cobbled ground, amidst buildings and cityfolk. At this time Mastbean took point, looking around before pointing off in the distance. That's where they would find their port, he reckoned.

Before they could take off once more, however, the shouting of the guards broke the civil peace of the evening. They would not be losing this trail easily.

[Raphael]

((Alright, we've said it enough. From now on, it's implied.))

The city of Scara Brae was just as lovely as Firewater remembered. "O' course, one's memory pale's when you're bein' dragged through the street." As the two neared the edge of the brush, the young pirate could help look over the city. If 'The Mad Bonnie' had never been captured, he'd be in one of those taverns right now. Some lovely barmaid would stroll by and feel the warm touch of Raphael on her shoulder. And later that night, the two would make love like wild muskrats, hurried and clumsy. By morning, the wench would awaken to the smell of liquor and the vision of empty sheets. The lad was never one to stay longer then needed.

Things didn't go as planned for the pirate duo, however. They now fled for their very lives, knowing all too well what would happen if they were caught again. guards weren't well known for forgiveness. "'Idin' in the brush seems too much a 'assle. Knowin' these sentries, they've probably got the woods all too well mapped out." Firewater was stumped. He sent a worried glance over his shouler before he stared at his crewmate. He hoped the stout fellow's look was one of thought and not just constipation. Either way, something had to come out fast.

Things changed quickly for Raphael however, the young lad's mind finally sifting into gear. He noticed the rooftops on top of the darkened hovels. Sure the guards knew the back alleys like their own homes, but the pirate guessed they hadn't been on top too many times. " 'Ey Acquai. I've got myself a bit of a plan. What if we gave the guards a bit of death form above, aye?" Said the pirate with a sly smile one could barely make out in the moonlight. Of course there was no death involved. The lad still felt the punch one guard had done to him, so taking on the whole force didn't appeal to him. Raphael just thought 'death from above' sounded better than 'hide like pigeons of the rooftop.' He quickly explained his plan to his acquai before the two took off into the city. Behind them by only yards were sentries stalking the night for the pirates.

***

The city wasn't as crowded as it could be by day. Most citizens were snug in their beds from a hard days works. But the people that were out were Raphael's kin, people who wouldn't know a hard day's work if it punched them in the face and called their mother a whore. Drunkards stumbled about the street swearing at problems that haven't even arisen yet, whores flashed their goods to anyone who had the stomache for such things, thieves prowled the night for money that would be more abundant in the day. For two escapes fleeing for their lives, it was sanctuary. They slowed down once the reached the open streets glittering with oil laterns. The guards would have trouble following them through the scum that collected in front of taverns. The smells of wine and salted meats filled the walkways, and it took all of Firewater's sense to keep him from running into a nearby tavern.

Finally, Mastbean lead the two into a nearby alley with low houses of rotting wood. The hovels were close enough to other builds that it was possible for the pirates to hop roof to roof with the right running start. They checked windows for signs of life, making sure no one was around to alert the sentries. Raphael had placed all his chips on this plan, his next was to run screaming through the streets. Quietly, the lad called Mastbean close.

"Alright acquai. Gunna' need a 'and from you. Give me a life onto the roof up ther'" He grinned again, basking in the glory of his moment. The alley was dark, the moon hidden behind a veil of clouds that had just rolled in. It was if they very gods were aiding in their escapade. The two knew that was the only way they were getting out of Scara Brae.