The search of the Trident of Poseidon (3/?)
Title: The search of the Trident of Poseidon
Pairing: buffy/faith
Rating: PG-13
AN: I dont own Btvs or PotC I just wish I did
Summary : The story is based that it's been 18 years since At Worlds End, Elizabeth(Buffy) is on to see her future husband who lives in France, while on the ship she encounters Faith who is a prisoner heading to France to stand trial. Then one night Elizabeth's ship is attacked by pirates, which she comes to realize that Faiths one, the pirates are her crew, and now she’s Faith captive.
Chapter 3
In amongst the rich foods and fabulous clothes, life had its very un-fabulous side. Filled to the brim with, fornication, swearing and boozing. That would occur on every corner of the streets in the poorest parts of towns.
Where even though with the never drying mud, now and then body turning up. The low class citizens dance, sing, and fight the night away. Since the guards despised that area, so pretty much everyone one did as they pleased when the guards weren’t looking.
Though even the lowest parts of town there is always the roughest part of it where the most dangerous and ruthless people venture too. The only place in this town provided where the sea bastards can plan they’re next pillage or treasure hunt was The Purple Rose.
The only tavern to face the ocean, it was the only place that was at port side. The owner/bartender was never really surprised to see a new face to come through his doors knowing what they were or some poor bastard who wondered in the wrong place.
The middle aged man was quiet on his side of the bar. Cleaning glass jugs, not caring to eavesdrop on his boring customer’s conversations and storytelling.
Nearly board to tears, since the air carried the same sounds to his ears from the last few nights; over and over from the same old drunks.
He sighed softly to himself closing his eyes thinking of better days. Where real men and woman known pirates that walked through his door. Faces that showed pride and mischief, and the scent of danger that seemed to flow from them to fill the room with certain unease. He missed the thrill of the tension of the moment, the first or many meetings of these spontaneous most wanted beings of the sea.
He opened his eyes with a small smile on his face; he covered he mouth to smother an oncoming yawn. The owner looked at his pocket watch to see the time was 6:55, he placed the trinket in the pocket and walked to his bar assistant and told the younger man to take over while he planned to nap in the back.
Awhile later the owner was awakened from his nap by a loud crash of glass and uproar of many voices. The man walked from the back room to see the whole occupants on the bar all huddled in the middle of it shouting and yelling with coins in they’re hands.
“Simon what devils is going on here?”
“There’s some drinking competition going on sir.”
“Really?”
“Yes sir, should we put an end to it?”
“No, not till it gets out of hand.”
“Yes sir.”
“Simon do you know who’s playing?”
“Mmm Lenard Mutton I heard is participating sir.”
“My god Lenard, (sighs) seems the drunken fool has nothing else to do these days I see.”
“I believe so sir.”
“And the person he’s going against?”
“I’m not sure sir I didn’t a good look at the fellow.”
“Don’t worry Simon I’ll go take a look for myself.”
“Yes sir.” The owner came from behind the bar walked over and slowly pushed his way through the crowed till he reached the center.
Once there in front of him was one of his smaller tables with two people sitting at it, one at each end. He looked to his right to see the familiar face of Lenard Mutton the major drunk of the area. A very large unclean man, even though most men where. He had a long graying stringy beard that reached his chest. His wild hair that stuck in every direction and was mud caked like his shirt and pants, the image just screamed I need a bath.
The owner watched him as he downed a shot of Rum and slammed down the glass on the table, his bloodshot eyes glazed over gave a drunken grin to his opponent.
With that the bartender’s gaze fell upon the other figure at the table, which looked to be smaller in stature. They wore black clothing from head to toe which consisted with a hooded overcoat, pants and leather boots. The dark figure was hunched over facing the table, playing with the rim of their glass with a black gloved hand.
Then the dark figure leaned back giving the owner a better look at the shadowy face of the person. He was surprised to see a playful look of a young and beautiful woman smiling at Lenard while downing the shot as if it was her first one of the night after god knows how many before, put down the glass to continue the battle of endurance.
The crowd cheered and booed as both frustrated and excited that none of the challengers seemed to be backing down. The owner looked back over to Lenard to see anger in his eyes and began to sweat more as he looked at his glass then back at the girl. Finally reaching out and grabbing the refilled glass with his greasy hands brought it to his shaky lips, and without warning let out a huge sneeze, causing him to spill the shot all over the table losing the game.
Now with louder cheering and uproar the crowd filled with losers tossing they’re money onto the table. The young woman still grinning sat up from her chair and reached over for the small hill of riches when her clean hand was grabbed by a hairy large one stop hers.
Her grin faded to be replaced with a slightly angered one as her deep brown eyes burned into the man in front of her. The owner hearing her voice for the first time was slightly surprised that she even spoke at all. Not along to speak so clearly, compared to Lenard; who was a babbling idiot even when sober.
“Let go of my hand fat man.”
“Oh no, the game is not over lassie.”
“You’re spilled your glass all over the place and with that I won this money fair and square.”
With that said she was pulled closer to the man fully out of her chair with Lenard pointing an eight inch long blade to her neck.
“It is when I say it is girl.”
That’s when the whole room got even quieter when a familiar click of a gun was hard. Lenard grew still when he felt the cold barrel was put against his head. The now nervous bartender looked up from Lenard to see a tall dark haired young man dress almost exactly like the young woman except he wore a red bandana, holding a large gun pointed against Lenard’s left temple. Who spoke in a low voice but had a polite tone to it.
“You heard the girl-“. He stopped when she gave him a glare.
“I mean lady, let her go.”
“Or what boy?” Lenard said even with the tough act his face became more red and slick with more sweat.
“Or this poor owner of this establishment would have to clean your brains off this table and floor.” said the young man with a dark look on his face. The tavern owner began to feel more uneasy by the second, and having the thought of really doing the dirty deed of scooping Lenard off his floor with a shovel. He took a quick glance around himself on the faces of the other customers not very surprised that more then have of then looked like they want to see that happen. ‘Damn these blood thirsty drunk basterds!’ he thought.
“You wouldn’t try it.” Lenard eyed him slowly, having a hard time trying to find a bluff in the young man.
“You don’t know me at all; would you still like to try me?” Lenard got very angry when his resolve weakened.
“Why are you protecting this wench?”
“I’m not; I’m protecting you from her. You see if I hadn’t intervened like I did your crouch would on the floor with you in half dead before you could say ouch.” Lenard’s resolve dropped a little more. The tavern owner almost turned green at the thought.
“You’re a liar.”
“You don’t believe me.” The young man raised an eyebrow slightly and for the first time sounded amused.
Lenard hissed in pain and cursed when her felt a pointy-sharp object nip his nether regions. He looked down to see an even longer blade pointed at him from under the table. Lenard looked back to the woman whose mischievous smile returned. He slowly let go his grip and leaned back in his chair watching the long blade slide back to its hiding place underneath the sleeve of woman’s coat. The young woman quickly grabbed the money and headed out the door.
“Thank you for listening sir.” The young man said as he too put away his weapon and headed out the door.
“Oh and by the way if you try to come after us, or I catch you grabbing another woman again. My friend will kill you, and I wouldn’t stop her do you understand?” Lenard only answered by shaking his head.
“Good, have a nice evening everyone.” And he let the bar. Then out of nowhere Lenard fell out of his chair having fainted from the combination of high alcohol intake with the fear of a near death experience. Everyone burst out laughing and went on with they’re evening discussing about the new strangers. The bartender walked back to his side of the bar happy for the first time in years having an interesting night which at that second time remind him of the old days.
R&R
Pairing: buffy/faith
Rating: PG-13
AN: I dont own Btvs or PotC I just wish I did
Summary : The story is based that it's been 18 years since At Worlds End, Elizabeth(Buffy) is on to see her future husband who lives in France, while on the ship she encounters Faith who is a prisoner heading to France to stand trial. Then one night Elizabeth's ship is attacked by pirates, which she comes to realize that Faiths one, the pirates are her crew, and now she’s Faith captive.
Chapter 3
In amongst the rich foods and fabulous clothes, life had its very un-fabulous side. Filled to the brim with, fornication, swearing and boozing. That would occur on every corner of the streets in the poorest parts of towns.
Where even though with the never drying mud, now and then body turning up. The low class citizens dance, sing, and fight the night away. Since the guards despised that area, so pretty much everyone one did as they pleased when the guards weren’t looking.
Though even the lowest parts of town there is always the roughest part of it where the most dangerous and ruthless people venture too. The only place in this town provided where the sea bastards can plan they’re next pillage or treasure hunt was The Purple Rose.
The only tavern to face the ocean, it was the only place that was at port side. The owner/bartender was never really surprised to see a new face to come through his doors knowing what they were or some poor bastard who wondered in the wrong place.
The middle aged man was quiet on his side of the bar. Cleaning glass jugs, not caring to eavesdrop on his boring customer’s conversations and storytelling.
Nearly board to tears, since the air carried the same sounds to his ears from the last few nights; over and over from the same old drunks.
He sighed softly to himself closing his eyes thinking of better days. Where real men and woman known pirates that walked through his door. Faces that showed pride and mischief, and the scent of danger that seemed to flow from them to fill the room with certain unease. He missed the thrill of the tension of the moment, the first or many meetings of these spontaneous most wanted beings of the sea.
He opened his eyes with a small smile on his face; he covered he mouth to smother an oncoming yawn. The owner looked at his pocket watch to see the time was 6:55, he placed the trinket in the pocket and walked to his bar assistant and told the younger man to take over while he planned to nap in the back.
Awhile later the owner was awakened from his nap by a loud crash of glass and uproar of many voices. The man walked from the back room to see the whole occupants on the bar all huddled in the middle of it shouting and yelling with coins in they’re hands.
“Simon what devils is going on here?”
“There’s some drinking competition going on sir.”
“Really?”
“Yes sir, should we put an end to it?”
“No, not till it gets out of hand.”
“Yes sir.”
“Simon do you know who’s playing?”
“Mmm Lenard Mutton I heard is participating sir.”
“My god Lenard, (sighs) seems the drunken fool has nothing else to do these days I see.”
“I believe so sir.”
“And the person he’s going against?”
“I’m not sure sir I didn’t a good look at the fellow.”
“Don’t worry Simon I’ll go take a look for myself.”
“Yes sir.” The owner came from behind the bar walked over and slowly pushed his way through the crowed till he reached the center.
Once there in front of him was one of his smaller tables with two people sitting at it, one at each end. He looked to his right to see the familiar face of Lenard Mutton the major drunk of the area. A very large unclean man, even though most men where. He had a long graying stringy beard that reached his chest. His wild hair that stuck in every direction and was mud caked like his shirt and pants, the image just screamed I need a bath.
The owner watched him as he downed a shot of Rum and slammed down the glass on the table, his bloodshot eyes glazed over gave a drunken grin to his opponent.
With that the bartender’s gaze fell upon the other figure at the table, which looked to be smaller in stature. They wore black clothing from head to toe which consisted with a hooded overcoat, pants and leather boots. The dark figure was hunched over facing the table, playing with the rim of their glass with a black gloved hand.
Then the dark figure leaned back giving the owner a better look at the shadowy face of the person. He was surprised to see a playful look of a young and beautiful woman smiling at Lenard while downing the shot as if it was her first one of the night after god knows how many before, put down the glass to continue the battle of endurance.
The crowd cheered and booed as both frustrated and excited that none of the challengers seemed to be backing down. The owner looked back over to Lenard to see anger in his eyes and began to sweat more as he looked at his glass then back at the girl. Finally reaching out and grabbing the refilled glass with his greasy hands brought it to his shaky lips, and without warning let out a huge sneeze, causing him to spill the shot all over the table losing the game.
Now with louder cheering and uproar the crowd filled with losers tossing they’re money onto the table. The young woman still grinning sat up from her chair and reached over for the small hill of riches when her clean hand was grabbed by a hairy large one stop hers.
Her grin faded to be replaced with a slightly angered one as her deep brown eyes burned into the man in front of her. The owner hearing her voice for the first time was slightly surprised that she even spoke at all. Not along to speak so clearly, compared to Lenard; who was a babbling idiot even when sober.
“Let go of my hand fat man.”
“Oh no, the game is not over lassie.”
“You’re spilled your glass all over the place and with that I won this money fair and square.”
With that said she was pulled closer to the man fully out of her chair with Lenard pointing an eight inch long blade to her neck.
“It is when I say it is girl.”
That’s when the whole room got even quieter when a familiar click of a gun was hard. Lenard grew still when he felt the cold barrel was put against his head. The now nervous bartender looked up from Lenard to see a tall dark haired young man dress almost exactly like the young woman except he wore a red bandana, holding a large gun pointed against Lenard’s left temple. Who spoke in a low voice but had a polite tone to it.
“You heard the girl-“. He stopped when she gave him a glare.
“I mean lady, let her go.”
“Or what boy?” Lenard said even with the tough act his face became more red and slick with more sweat.
“Or this poor owner of this establishment would have to clean your brains off this table and floor.” said the young man with a dark look on his face. The tavern owner began to feel more uneasy by the second, and having the thought of really doing the dirty deed of scooping Lenard off his floor with a shovel. He took a quick glance around himself on the faces of the other customers not very surprised that more then have of then looked like they want to see that happen. ‘Damn these blood thirsty drunk basterds!’ he thought.
“You wouldn’t try it.” Lenard eyed him slowly, having a hard time trying to find a bluff in the young man.
“You don’t know me at all; would you still like to try me?” Lenard got very angry when his resolve weakened.
“Why are you protecting this wench?”
“I’m not; I’m protecting you from her. You see if I hadn’t intervened like I did your crouch would on the floor with you in half dead before you could say ouch.” Lenard’s resolve dropped a little more. The tavern owner almost turned green at the thought.
“You’re a liar.”
“You don’t believe me.” The young man raised an eyebrow slightly and for the first time sounded amused.
Lenard hissed in pain and cursed when her felt a pointy-sharp object nip his nether regions. He looked down to see an even longer blade pointed at him from under the table. Lenard looked back to the woman whose mischievous smile returned. He slowly let go his grip and leaned back in his chair watching the long blade slide back to its hiding place underneath the sleeve of woman’s coat. The young woman quickly grabbed the money and headed out the door.
“Thank you for listening sir.” The young man said as he too put away his weapon and headed out the door.
“Oh and by the way if you try to come after us, or I catch you grabbing another woman again. My friend will kill you, and I wouldn’t stop her do you understand?” Lenard only answered by shaking his head.
“Good, have a nice evening everyone.” And he let the bar. Then out of nowhere Lenard fell out of his chair having fainted from the combination of high alcohol intake with the fear of a near death experience. Everyone burst out laughing and went on with they’re evening discussing about the new strangers. The bartender walked back to his side of the bar happy for the first time in years having an interesting night which at that second time remind him of the old days.
R&R