The Dragon Fleet: Reviving the Dark Marshal

They were most definitely drawing attention.

For once, it wasn’t because of the multi-colored, exuberantly bouncing Japanese man, nor the cowboy stalking beside him, nor even from the tall, leather-clad, bunny-eared woman on the other side. Not even the sight of the weapons, typically enough to send even hardened criminals packing; at least two powerful-looking guns, a massive halberd, and enough explosives between the three to sink Fort Knox. But even considering their very obvious behavior, the bickering of two of them, and the aforementioned traits and weaponry, they were still not the center of attention. That honor fell to the drop dead woman behind them.

She was good-looking enough to draw the eye of most people by herself, regardless of who may be with her. Today, it was no her beauty that left the masses agape. That honor would belong to the seven foot tall blob of wax walking alongside her, one slimy appendage holding aloft an umbrella to shade her from the sun. It oozed along, a shapeless mass, the faint smell of grass and flowers trailing along behind it. Not even the frankly terrifying weapons the young lady somehow managed to carry effortlessly, including a massive two-handed sword that jutted over her left shoulder and ended only a few inches off the ground, could tear their attention away from the mass of oil and dirt that was following along like a dutiful servant.

There was a reason for this, of course, that no amount of whispers and pointed gasps could mute. They were in Cuba; more than that, Cuba by the seaside. Which means, you guessed it; bugs. Mosquitoes, flies, and various other flying and crawling pests that would really make her life a living hell given half the chance. This citronella Golem was there simply to ward off the pests. And, she thought with a smirk, if it doubles as a personal servant and valet, well that was just an added bonus. And it was certainly useful in carrying their luggage. Vaguely visible inside the waxy creatures “stomach” were suitcases of varying sizes, suspended as if in water. None of her companions were complaining, despite the looks, since they didn’t have to carry their own luggage.

They were dressed the part, Haru and Balthazar in suits and ties, her in a soft sundress and glasses. Only Francine was dressed in her usual black leather garb, but then again she always was. Francine deigned to never go along with most of the minutiae of Haru’s schemes, regardless of how much he complains about it. They were masquerading as “American Scientists”, why she didn’t have a clue, but she never turned down an opportunity to dress up. It was quite a change wearing these human clothes, the cotton materials of the dress surprisingly cool and comfortable. Not that she had an issue with the heat; Ofraria was, for the most part, a tropical country.

The docks came into view then, the vast and untamed ocean spread before them like they had reached the end of the world. Beside her, Francine stopped, staring at the view with a mixture of fear and amazement. Balthazar stopped too, wrapping an arm around the slim figure of his wife, whom smiled appreciatively. A foreign and strange concept to the forest-dweller, Balthazar knew, a vast and endless lake filled with salt and creatures that defy classification. It must be strange for her. Very little compared to the mystery of the ocean, an for one who had little experience with it, it must seem like folly.

”We have arrived.” she said, the curiously stilted, accented voice of hers like music to her husbands ears. He never got tired of hearing her speak. ”Do not let your guard down.” For just a moment, there was a melancholic pause, three of the four staring at the horizon in a bout of seriousness. This was promptly ruined by loud, childish giggling. ”Oh, man. Ah, jesus, you guys are hilarious. C’mon, these guys are cool, I scouted them myself.” Three pairs of eyes turned towards the short Japanese man, currently wiping a tear from his ear underneath the glasses. ”Seriously. The look on your faces. We’re chasing some fuckin’ pirate treasure, not running for governor! Loosen up!”

With those words of wisdom, he was off, darting down hill leading to the docks like a bullet out of a gun. Balthazar gave a muted curse and chased after him, trying to keep up with his energetic employer. Amalia and Francine exchanged a glance, the latter slowing to match pace with the warrior and her golem. There were many similarities between the two, which led to their fast friendship, but most importantly they both understand the need for caution. Haru’s brash reaction, though par for the course, was worrying at best. If he was killed, who was going to pay them?

”I am unsure of these sailors, Francine. We have chartered them, yes, but unsavory rumours follow them.” There was a moments silence, doing which the quality of air changed among them. They must have reached some unseen barrier; the smell of salt and tar and wood suffused the air, both women pausing to sniff the air. It was refreshing, in a way; it brought Amalia back to her days watching her father, and later, her boyfriend, in the training yards of the Church. It was an entirely new, though not unpleasant, smell for Francine. Even in New York she avoided the harbors for fear of falling in. Though it was a shame, she couldn’t swim.

”What does your gut say?” They trusted each other, and Francine knew her friend has good instincts. Personally, she did not like the situation. Too many variables, too many things could go wrong. But she trusted Amalia. For her part, the young warrior just barely shrugged. ”It’s confused. I do not know what to think. I only know one thing.” The faint voices of the boys ushered them on, her golem loping dutifully behind. ”Something is on the horizon, and I’m not sure we’re going to like it.”

”Vell, hello ther’! I am Gustav-” The really crappy German accent was cut short by an elbow to his head. ”Shut up with accent, we’re American, we ain’t German remember?” Balthazar harshly whispered. Haru hissed back. ”Don’t be racist, Americans can be German too.” Balthazar looked taken aback and replied in a slightly louder voice. ”What? That makes no sense, you’re an idiot.” Haru seethed. ”Don’t call me an idiot, you’re an idiot.” Their bickering steadily grew louder (utterly ruining any chance of appearing professional) until they were both suddenly plucked off the ground and tossed in the water.

”You’re both idiots. Quit fooling around.” She ignored their floundering to instead walk up to the ship, hailing the captain. ”Ho! I am Amalia Ashenberry. We have chartered your ship for an expedition, yes?” And then behind her, the dripping form of Haru. ”For a “scientific” expedition, right?” The air quotes and accompanying wink and nudge were absolutely unnecessary. Amalia pinched the bridge of her nose; there was a headache coming, always forming whenever Haru was involved.

”That wasn’ very nice, Amy.” Balthazar’s grin showed he wasn’t angry, but still Amalia rolled his eyes. Haru spoke up before she could. ”What else do you expect from our Amy?!” His attempt to pat her cheek was met by his wrist being grabbed and arm being wrenched behind his back (and the subsequent echoes of pain) before shoving him bodily into Balthazar. A sigh wracked her frame, veins throbbing on her forehead. She was already regretting this. Her Golem creeped ever closer, it’s soft scent calming her somewhat.

”... when do we leave?”

The tiny looking ship didn't look like it'd survive a decent pounding from a storm. That coupled with the fact Lucia had to maintain a cover of "American scientist" was stressing her. She could perform tasks on a ship but what would she know about science? She was half assing it as a magic user already. Cut to a dark skinned woman who could easily pass for Cuban. Her hair was in a ponytail with a cheap band holding in in place, she also wore a baseball cap with a US sports team moniker. She wore a white t-shirt that had clearly seen it's day, her shorts were cut off blue jean shorts. Her shoes were nothing special either, just some black running shoes. All in all her clothing was very plain and unassuming, what she assumed would be a more plausible disguise than her original clothing which she had packed away. Even without her clothing one look at this woman was enough to tell her body was incredible, even past the mundane clothes. Her legs were long, elegant and flawless, her complexion was immaculate and she had the fullest seductive lips one may ever see.



"Who are these clowns?"



Lucia muttered to herself in a low voice seeing Haru, Balthazar, Amalia and Francine about to board the ship she was heading to. Rather than get in the middle of whatever fight might be going on Lucia passed beside them and waved up to the captain. It was probably better to leave as little impression as possible if she wanted to meet her goals. A ship made in Grandfather was no inexpensive thing, the steam-works of such a ship alone would cost millions in surface worlds funds. Lucia dreamed of earning enough money to start her own pirate crew or even guild, she'd return to her family and show her mother what real hard work can earn you. She was mindful though that this whole thing sounded ridiculous, ancient treasure this buried crap that blah blah blah. But really Lucia was tired of conning wealthy people and cheating others in gambling, it was time for a big score and the risk was worth the rewards.



"Capitain permission to come aboard?!"



She hoists her large bag up side eyeing the other strange people, most of them seem less than savory. One woman however caught her eye, she was quite the beauty and with a good fashion sense. Lucia slightly regretted her choice of attire now in her vanity wanting to shine like that woman was. Unfortunately the name of Miss Fortune had made it's way to many unsavory corners of the world. Perhaps when they were at sea she would change. There was one man who seemed to be every gaudy cliche of a pick up artist. They hadn't even met and Lucia got the feeling she spotted the pervert of the group.

Alejandra rubbed her temple at the arrival of their clients. Weapons? Some kind of monster? The crew were all ready to scatter, but she kept them together.


The ship was small and crowded, with crew and equipment. Patches of rust were hastily covered up with enamel paint. Chests and barrels of diving tools were tied to the railings with combinations of rope, chains and even plastic tie. Deep diving suits and oxygen tanks were secured to cages with their own oxygen lines.
The inside of the ship was every bit as cramp, all the clients been assigned a single room with bunks that felt like being stuffed into a sardine can and smelled of day old gym socks. Square foot lockers were secured with flimsy padlocks. And the toilet… just… you don’t want to know.


The crew was all seated on deck to be introduced by Alejandra. They were a mostly Hispanic lot, male, ages 18-40. They wore bright red jackets with yellow signal vests for maximum visibility at night. They all smiled and politely greeted their clients.


“Martin, Mateo, Matias. Master divers, if it involves underwater they’re the men for the job.”

“Ola.” The well built, lean divers were in their 30s and their physiques and confidence showed from a lifetime of swimming.


“Enrique, Elias, our ship engineers. They keep this rickety tub floating and moving.”

“Ola.”

“Paulo our navigator, Amadeo, sonar man.”

“Ola.” The older gentlemen were reserved, polite and professional.


“Jose, Juan Carlos, Juan Pablo. Some drunks in town I hired for cheap help.”

“Ola mi amiga!” The younger men were more enthusiastic, making wolf whistles and cat calls at their women clients.


“And my Uncle Ricardo.” A man emerged from the interior of the ship, an older gentleman with graying hair and a moustache, someone who looked like Freddie Mercury if he were still alive. And Spanish.


“Aaah welcome, welcome to my humble vessel, I hope it is sufficient for you. Please, have some empanada…” The crew, eager to get this trip underway, all grabbed some of uncle Ricardo’s warm, wonderful smelling creations.


Then the smooth old criminal looked upon Amalia and approached with his bowl of meat bread. “Ahhh You are such a beauty my dear, I am honored to have you on my ship. Oh, such beauties, Alejandra if I’d have known I would have prepared a red carpet.” The old Casanova took Amalia’s hand and kissed it lightly, the younger crew teasing the old man’s antics.


Alejandra pulled him away from their client. “He’s harmless, I swear.”



Once Uncle Ricardo was escorted back inside, Alejandra turned to Haru. “So I just want to clarify our destination…”


Once they stepped onto the boat, there was a thrum of energy from the Cursed Captain’s Cutlass.


“Jesu Cristo! Alejandra look at this!” Paulo the navigator exclaimed from inside, the map on the wall began to glow, even smoke. It was as if someone took a magnifying glass at midday and began burning a spot right on the map, in this case in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. The burn spot was nowhere near any of the many and varied smuggling and legitimate routes laid out on the map.


“Well. I am way over my head.” Alejandra rasped as she swallowed her anxiety. “…I don’t suppose anyone wants to go to the Bahamas, do they?”

This was not what he was expecting! When you think “pirate ship”, you think, y’know, Cap’n Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl. Large, sprawling decks, plenty of cabin space, spacious undercroft. Plenty of room for shenanigans. There wasn’t enough room here to swing an Adaro. That’s if you’d ever wanna swing an Adaro, they’re vicious little fucks. Great with some tartar sauce, though, or at least half of it was. Wait, what was he saying? Something about- oh, right. Small ship. He shook his long locks free of his face, splattering the salty water onto the deck of his ship. He had the good grace to throw a glare at Amalia. Oh, if it was up to him, she’d-

His glare transformed into a smirk. Oh, this was too good! He had missed the initial introductions (as being tossed in the water would do that) but it appeared that there were a bunch of Spanish people there! With jobs! Interesting! You really do see everything. And, as he sat there wringing out his hair, he watched his revenge unfold. … well he called it “his” revenge, it was just random circumstance. After introductions were done with, there was no way in a thousand different Hells Haru was going to remember names, an older gent came up to Amalia. Immediately Haru got creep vibes from him, his beady little eyes leering at his girls over his pornstar stache. This was going to be good.

”Well. Aren’t we charming? For a human, at least.”

Humans weren’t so awful after all, it appeared. From what she had seen of this godforsaken world, and this country in particular, the people were rude and brash, in a hurry to go nowhere. It astounded her how quickly humans moved; for having such short-lived life, they were certainly in a rush to waste their life. And as a result, she found most of them absolutely intolerable. They had no charm, no dignity, willing to waste their limited life on crude jokes and lame pick-up lines. She had experienced enough of human society to know this was true. Though she had been only a little time, she already ached for the subtle hello’s of her home kingdom, of the understanding between each member of Ofraria. A small smile was on her face, and after her hand was free, Amalia swooped down to plant a soft kiss on Eduardo’s cheek.

”Bye, Eduardo.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what Haru thought was going to happen. The sludge monster started to deposit their suitcases, one after another, the same long tendril that had shielded Amalia now reaching inside of itself with a loud squealching noise. Amalia didn’t seem to care or notice, engaged in conversation with Francine, but Haru did, each plop of the bag on the ground causing him to gag. When finally all of the bags were gone, Amalia waved her right arm and the creature jumped off the edge of the ship, dissipating into the water. The glowing, floating tattoos circling her arms calmed, settling back to etch themselves into her skin. Haru stormed over to Amalia, apparently to scold her about not freaking out on the Mexican pervert, but he misjudged his footsteps and tripped over a suitcase, revealing its contents.

”Is that …” Oh shit. Haru dived on top of the artifact, tossing clothes and other miscellenia on top of it to attempt to hide it, but Amalia just grabbed him, sliding him across the boat to crumple against the side. Balthazar reached in and tentatively picked up the old, gold-embossed compass. ”It is. Damn it.” Haru had the audacity to look outraged at the lecture. He scrambled to his feet and marched over to them, seething, hands balled up at his sides. ”Hey! Don’t lecture me, it was just, like sitting there, ripe for the taking-” But he was cut off by Balthazar, narrowing his blue eyes at him.

”It was not just “sitting there.” It was in a museum. Underneath plate glass and a heat sensor.”

”And three different kinds of alarms.”

”Yes, thank you, Amalia. You could have gotten us all in serious trouble. What were you thinking?”

”He wasn’t.”

Haru seethed at the lecture. Who the hell were they to lecture him?

”Yeah, could have, but didn’t. We’re here, aren’t we? Nothing happened that-” That defense didn’t exactly sit well with Amalia and Balthazar, who immediately began to yell at him, not that Haru was listening. Oh, he wasn’t being rude, any other situation he’d listen just to mock them for their stupid views. He kinda got distracted by the fact that, y’know, the goddamn sword just started glowing. Time seemed to move in slow motion, his mind working quickly; it glowing out of nowhere could only mean one thing; it was an enchanted sword, and it has just been activated. Odds were its effect was simply glowing but he couldn’t have Balthazar lose a hand. With the speed of a snake, suddenly Haru slid closer to Haru, his elbow slamming into Balthazar’s wrist, jarring it enough for the palm of his other hand to hit the pommel of the sword, sending it flying through the air. Haru caught it easily, a backwards flip providing the needed leverage, and just as he was about to drop it … he stopped.

A song, beautiful, dark, and mysterious, played in his head, telling a tale of magic. Through darkened waves and desert sands the sand took him, images flashing through his mind. War, death, destruction, and an ancient being asleep at the bottom of the ocean. A monster in modern times, a god in hers. A pretty face, pale with eyes of blood swam out of the ocean and Haru jumped, nearly dropping the sword from shock. The images and the song faded, leaving behind the image of the pretty face and a direction, headed west across the ocean. The faint smell of saltwater and something else, something far more rich and vital, wafted across his nose. There was a vital need emanating from the sword, as if it desperately desired to be reunited with that face again. The words of the captain brought her to Haru’s attention.

”You bet your sweet ass we’re going there.”
__
”Quite dramatic, are they not?”

The tall, dusky-skinned woman had approached the girl that had come aboard. There was a strange scent to her, one she did not recognize. It aroused her curiosity. Her voice was … odd, as if she was unused to speaking the language, and was at once bestial and reminiscent of the wind whistling through the trees. The closer she got, the stronger the smell got, her little nose twitching at the scent. From this close, it was obvious she was not human. Snow-white hair framed across delicate features that were not quite human, black eyes and a small, pink nose above plush lips and sharp teeth. She was at least six and a half feet tall, made even taller by the nearly foot and a half rabbit ears, nearly blending into her hair save for the soft pink coloration on the inside. And jutting out from under her legs were the digitigrade similar to the rabbit she so resembled. The pink pads and white fur strode across the gently rocking surface of the ship as easily as one would walk across the road. Really, it was no harder than walking across the bough of a tree during a high wind.

”And loud.”

She leaned against the edge of the ship, eyes furrowed at the sight. Haru had unsheathed the blade now, the jeweled scabbard stuck to a belt he procured from somewhere. Equally mysterious was the appearance of the tricorn hat on his head and the gold bracelet on his wrist. You could not take your eyes off him for a minute. A sigh twitched her frame. Sharp claws adjusted the tight leather on her body. It was as comfortable as she dare make it. It covered the parts humans deemed inappropriate, though not much else, which is as she preferred. The human insistence to ruin the natural order would always elude her.

”I am Francine of the Wooded Wind. What are you?”