(no subject)
Evidently, hunting for mermaids was best done by moonlight. The darkness above the water was only magnified when beneath the surface of it, but what light there was shining down from above made the image of dozens of mermaids on the retreat unmistakable, the iridescent scales of their tails glistening brilliantly, even through the murky waters.
And thus, mission successfully accomplished.
Whether or not Blackbeard and Angelica had successfully acquired a tear from one of the ravenous harpies before their retreat was another story and a separate mission altogether. A fool's mission, and Jack was no fool. Foolish at times, perhaps, in the opinion on some. Most... He did not, however, have a death wish. Dying once had been quite enough. The crew had been fighting a losing battle, and granted they hadn't been his crew, but they were good men nonetheless; bringing an end to the massacre that had been underway on the coast had been his only objective. Tear be damned.
When Jack finally surfaced, he made quick work of swimming to shore, eventually trudging up onto dry land. It was calm, quieter now that the harsh screeches of mermaids and screams of sailors being dragged out to sea had all died down. In fact, not only were the sounds gone, but all evidence of the attack had vanished. No Blackbeard, no Angelica, or the crew, no bodies of slain mermaids and seamen alike littering the beach. No lighthouse currently engulfed in flames after he'd gone through all the trouble of setting the blasted thing alight.
No Whitecap Bay.
Dripping wet, the ocean still filling his boots to the brim, Jack does a full 360 spin, brow arched and mouth slightly agape.
No Queen Anne's Revenge.
Once again, Jack Sparrow had managed to find himself stranded on a strange beach with no ship to call his own.
[Timed to any point after sunset. He's arriving from beneath the water's surface, on the far southeast shore of the island. First person gets to explain, all others can find him wandering the shore.]
And thus, mission successfully accomplished.
Whether or not Blackbeard and Angelica had successfully acquired a tear from one of the ravenous harpies before their retreat was another story and a separate mission altogether. A fool's mission, and Jack was no fool. Foolish at times, perhaps, in the opinion on some. Most... He did not, however, have a death wish. Dying once had been quite enough. The crew had been fighting a losing battle, and granted they hadn't been his crew, but they were good men nonetheless; bringing an end to the massacre that had been underway on the coast had been his only objective. Tear be damned.
When Jack finally surfaced, he made quick work of swimming to shore, eventually trudging up onto dry land. It was calm, quieter now that the harsh screeches of mermaids and screams of sailors being dragged out to sea had all died down. In fact, not only were the sounds gone, but all evidence of the attack had vanished. No Blackbeard, no Angelica, or the crew, no bodies of slain mermaids and seamen alike littering the beach. No lighthouse currently engulfed in flames after he'd gone through all the trouble of setting the blasted thing alight.
No Whitecap Bay.
Dripping wet, the ocean still filling his boots to the brim, Jack does a full 360 spin, brow arched and mouth slightly agape.
No Queen Anne's Revenge.
Once again, Jack Sparrow had managed to find himself stranded on a strange beach with no ship to call his own.
[Timed to any point after sunset. He's arriving from beneath the water's surface, on the far southeast shore of the island. First person gets to explain, all others can find him wandering the shore.]