(no subject)
Title: One Hundred Souls
Characters: Davy Jones, Kraken
Rating: PG
Summary: The fall of the Black Pearl as seen by the Kraken and its master.
Using the Kraken was more than a matter of just pointing it in the right direction and then letting it loose like a trained dog. It was actually quite difficult to keep the sea monster from gallivanting merrily about the sea once awakened, devouring what it wanted and leaving no souls for its master to claim. But the effort of controlling the beast was countered by the sheer thrill of personally knowing the sensations of pulling a ship into driftwood and devouring sailors alive as they flailed and screamed. It was intoxicating, giving far more pleasure than any mere alcohol and leaving slightly less of a headache afterwards (although one did get left with an urge to grab at the men around you and pull them into your maw, which was rather embarrassing for a man in his position).
Davy Jones waited patiently for the screw to drop and send pulse into the surrounding sea, then sent his mind out to follow it. Wake up.
The Kraken arose and followed the pulse, then turned aside at Jones’ orders and headed for the other ship. Davy Jones slipped into its head and gave it a few directions in a language far less complex than that of man. There, go, eat, destroy.
Food.
The Kraken languidly stretched his tentacles up the sides of the ship, spreading slime over the seawashed wood, drawing out the suspense. Davy Jones always told himself that this meant it was easier to pluck out men without having to sort through all the flotsam and jetsam of the wrecked ship. He didn’t want to think that somewhere in its primordial longboat-sized brain, the Kraken also enjoyed the slow pleasure of drawing out the fear and torment of its prey. That would credit the Kraken with some twisted form of sentience, a concept that made even Davy Jones a tad nervous.
Pain.
Davy Jones felt a slight stinging sensation as the Black Pearl’s cannons blasted the Kraken’s tentacles. Minor annoyances, the futile flailings of a dying beast, but they sent the Kraken scurrying back and off in another direction.
Other food?
It was a sign of how far in Davy Jones was that it took him a few moments to realize that ‘other food’ meant the Flying Dutchman. Davy Jones wasn't a coward, by any means, but he rather enjoyed staying undigested.
No. Go back. He provided forceful nudges and a few mental images to show the Kraken how to invade the gunports first, destroying all opposition before picking off members of the crew one by one and drawing them into the depths.
Davy Jones withdrew for a bit, letting the Kraken do its business as he watched through his spyglass. It was a beautiful sight, the elegant wanton destruction, the torment of a helpless crew-oh, now, what was that over there in the longboat?
“Jack Sparrow,” Davy Jones chuckled, his tentacles curling happily inward. “First you leave your friends, now you leave your ship.”
It was typical. Whenever a man found himself called upon to pay his debt, he’d turn on his fellow men and all he’d valued, anything to get away. Not that it really mattered, Davy Jones always had them in the end, on his ship or in the depths, but it was usually amusing to watch them flail.
Usually. Jack Sparrow had hit far too close to home and he needed to suffer to the fullest. Davy Jones entered the Kraken again, feeling the squirming men as if they were held in his own tentacles, invading the Black Pearl with the ferocity of an army. Masts were crushed in his mighty grip and limbs were rent from their owners’ bodies, their shrieks persisting even as they were devoured.
PAIN!
Davy Jones stumbled and grabbed the railing for support as the Kraken’s agony shot through his body. He panted, trying to bring himself back to himself and remember that he wasn’t the one on fire and missing several large portions of tentacle.
“Cap’n?” Palifico put one hand up to Davy Jones, unsure if he should touch his arm or stay away.
“Back to your post!” Davy Jones snarled, standing up straight again. The coral-headed sailor, not actually having a post to go back to, simply took a step back and tried to look noncommittal.
Go back.
Hurts.
Davy Jones soothed the Kraken with an image of slave ships stuffed full of waiting helpless men, then hammered the message in again. Go back. The food would come later.
The Kraken wavered about on the sea floor, still not sure about all this. Davy Jones eventually raised his spyglass to look out at the Black Pearl, then held the stance as he dove fully into the Kraken’s mind. Wouldn’t do for the crew to see their captain staring slackjawed out into space without some reason behind it.
He guided the Kraken back to the Pearl, giving it forceful nudges whenever it tried to move away again. Bits of wood and such floated around, along with what might have been a longboat, but Davy Jones-as-Kraken paid them no mind. He came up quickly, surrounding the Black Pearl and baring its mouth to it. The Kraken rebelled against having to put its most vulnerable part in such a dangerous position, but Davy Jones again soothed it. The ship was crippled, and only one life remained aboard.
Davy Jones could taste him in the air, the familiar stench of one marked by the Black Spot combined with a soul and a scent that Davy Jones knew personally. Jack Sparrow had returned to his beloved Black Pearl.
This was not just business, it never was. Jack Sparrow’s carefree look at life, his almost-fey attitude and slantwise mind-that was worth at least one hundred souls, perhaps five hundred. Davy Jones wanted that soul, to own it and break it. The fact that Jack Sparrow had eluded his fate for so long just made him even more desirable.
Sparrow would beg and scream, and kindly old Captain Jones would come along and rescue him. Then twenty lashes to him for daring to try and renege on his bargain and one hundred years of service and suffering to look forward to. Triumph was lovely.
By the time Davy Jones felt the prick of the sword, it was far too late. Jack Sparrow was gone forever, out of the hands of even the master of the sea.
“The captain goes down with his ship,” muttered Palifico in an almost respectful tone. He’d seen dozens of Kraken-chases, and nothing like this had ever happened before. At the end, almost all men valued their own lives over their freedom. One had to wonder if he really was as mad as they all said.
“Not even Jack Sparrow can best the devil,” replied Maccus with a slight, satisfied chuckle. As if he cared about noble gestures. The job was done and people were either dead or suffering, and that was the important thing.
Davy Jones simply stared out at the Black Pearl as the Kraken almost lovingly wrapped its tentacles about it and dragged it back down to the depths. He wondered if, in some strange way, Jack Sparrow had just done exactly that.
Characters: Davy Jones, Kraken
Rating: PG
Summary: The fall of the Black Pearl as seen by the Kraken and its master.
Using the Kraken was more than a matter of just pointing it in the right direction and then letting it loose like a trained dog. It was actually quite difficult to keep the sea monster from gallivanting merrily about the sea once awakened, devouring what it wanted and leaving no souls for its master to claim. But the effort of controlling the beast was countered by the sheer thrill of personally knowing the sensations of pulling a ship into driftwood and devouring sailors alive as they flailed and screamed. It was intoxicating, giving far more pleasure than any mere alcohol and leaving slightly less of a headache afterwards (although one did get left with an urge to grab at the men around you and pull them into your maw, which was rather embarrassing for a man in his position).
Davy Jones waited patiently for the screw to drop and send pulse into the surrounding sea, then sent his mind out to follow it. Wake up.
The Kraken arose and followed the pulse, then turned aside at Jones’ orders and headed for the other ship. Davy Jones slipped into its head and gave it a few directions in a language far less complex than that of man. There, go, eat, destroy.
Food.
The Kraken languidly stretched his tentacles up the sides of the ship, spreading slime over the seawashed wood, drawing out the suspense. Davy Jones always told himself that this meant it was easier to pluck out men without having to sort through all the flotsam and jetsam of the wrecked ship. He didn’t want to think that somewhere in its primordial longboat-sized brain, the Kraken also enjoyed the slow pleasure of drawing out the fear and torment of its prey. That would credit the Kraken with some twisted form of sentience, a concept that made even Davy Jones a tad nervous.
Pain.
Davy Jones felt a slight stinging sensation as the Black Pearl’s cannons blasted the Kraken’s tentacles. Minor annoyances, the futile flailings of a dying beast, but they sent the Kraken scurrying back and off in another direction.
Other food?
It was a sign of how far in Davy Jones was that it took him a few moments to realize that ‘other food’ meant the Flying Dutchman. Davy Jones wasn't a coward, by any means, but he rather enjoyed staying undigested.
No. Go back. He provided forceful nudges and a few mental images to show the Kraken how to invade the gunports first, destroying all opposition before picking off members of the crew one by one and drawing them into the depths.
Davy Jones withdrew for a bit, letting the Kraken do its business as he watched through his spyglass. It was a beautiful sight, the elegant wanton destruction, the torment of a helpless crew-oh, now, what was that over there in the longboat?
“Jack Sparrow,” Davy Jones chuckled, his tentacles curling happily inward. “First you leave your friends, now you leave your ship.”
It was typical. Whenever a man found himself called upon to pay his debt, he’d turn on his fellow men and all he’d valued, anything to get away. Not that it really mattered, Davy Jones always had them in the end, on his ship or in the depths, but it was usually amusing to watch them flail.
Usually. Jack Sparrow had hit far too close to home and he needed to suffer to the fullest. Davy Jones entered the Kraken again, feeling the squirming men as if they were held in his own tentacles, invading the Black Pearl with the ferocity of an army. Masts were crushed in his mighty grip and limbs were rent from their owners’ bodies, their shrieks persisting even as they were devoured.
PAIN!
Davy Jones stumbled and grabbed the railing for support as the Kraken’s agony shot through his body. He panted, trying to bring himself back to himself and remember that he wasn’t the one on fire and missing several large portions of tentacle.
“Cap’n?” Palifico put one hand up to Davy Jones, unsure if he should touch his arm or stay away.
“Back to your post!” Davy Jones snarled, standing up straight again. The coral-headed sailor, not actually having a post to go back to, simply took a step back and tried to look noncommittal.
Go back.
Hurts.
Davy Jones soothed the Kraken with an image of slave ships stuffed full of waiting helpless men, then hammered the message in again. Go back. The food would come later.
The Kraken wavered about on the sea floor, still not sure about all this. Davy Jones eventually raised his spyglass to look out at the Black Pearl, then held the stance as he dove fully into the Kraken’s mind. Wouldn’t do for the crew to see their captain staring slackjawed out into space without some reason behind it.
He guided the Kraken back to the Pearl, giving it forceful nudges whenever it tried to move away again. Bits of wood and such floated around, along with what might have been a longboat, but Davy Jones-as-Kraken paid them no mind. He came up quickly, surrounding the Black Pearl and baring its mouth to it. The Kraken rebelled against having to put its most vulnerable part in such a dangerous position, but Davy Jones again soothed it. The ship was crippled, and only one life remained aboard.
Davy Jones could taste him in the air, the familiar stench of one marked by the Black Spot combined with a soul and a scent that Davy Jones knew personally. Jack Sparrow had returned to his beloved Black Pearl.
This was not just business, it never was. Jack Sparrow’s carefree look at life, his almost-fey attitude and slantwise mind-that was worth at least one hundred souls, perhaps five hundred. Davy Jones wanted that soul, to own it and break it. The fact that Jack Sparrow had eluded his fate for so long just made him even more desirable.
Sparrow would beg and scream, and kindly old Captain Jones would come along and rescue him. Then twenty lashes to him for daring to try and renege on his bargain and one hundred years of service and suffering to look forward to. Triumph was lovely.
By the time Davy Jones felt the prick of the sword, it was far too late. Jack Sparrow was gone forever, out of the hands of even the master of the sea.
“The captain goes down with his ship,” muttered Palifico in an almost respectful tone. He’d seen dozens of Kraken-chases, and nothing like this had ever happened before. At the end, almost all men valued their own lives over their freedom. One had to wonder if he really was as mad as they all said.
“Not even Jack Sparrow can best the devil,” replied Maccus with a slight, satisfied chuckle. As if he cared about noble gestures. The job was done and people were either dead or suffering, and that was the important thing.
Davy Jones simply stared out at the Black Pearl as the Kraken almost lovingly wrapped its tentacles about it and dragged it back down to the depths. He wondered if, in some strange way, Jack Sparrow had just done exactly that.