╔═══━━━───~•|•|•~───━━━═══╗
Introduction
╚═══━━━───~•|•|•~───━━━═══╝
"Would I betray my kin for a chance of immortality? Well, of course. I'm a pirate, after all."
-Captain Radnor 'Riot' Emmit
A group of men and women alike sat together at a long, rectangular made of wood. A total of eight hats, with them in different conditions, settled in front of their respectful person. A woman with stormy grey eyes was sitting at the head of the table, with her long blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail. Her skin is tanned, with dark freckles staining her cheeks. Her bow lips twisted into a smile, her eyes of storms glimmering with an unknown emotion. Her outfit was weathered and worn down, with two pistols attached to her hips and an ammo belt strapped loosely to her chest. "So," her tone was teasing, yet there was a bit of seriousness to it, "are we seeking such a thing? Could it be possible?" Her eyes turned to the man sitting on her left side, watching intently as he sipped from a brown mug while the rum soaked his classic full beard.
Meanwhile, his black hair gleamed under the candlelight of the chandler hanging above. His man's eyes of icy blues locked with hers, prolonging his drinking to annoy her. His eyelids were stained with black eyeshadow, ruined from sweat and the seas splashing on his pale, smooth face. Around his neck was a compass, the arrow moving in a clockwise motion in an infinite loop. "Captain Almira Salvador, I don't know how to answer such a question. Better yet," he slams his mug on the surface of the table, "I have little care to discuss such a thing with my bitter rivals," he turns to the man sitting across from him, hoisting his mug, and gives a tilt of his head, "except for Captain Leighton, of course." Almira huffs in annoyance, watching as the man supposedly named Leighton leans against his chair with his feet settled on the table.
Leighton's dark emerald eyes dimmed, muttering a few words under his breath, "Don't you dare drag me into your petty squabbles, Captain Salvador. You too, Calder." His appearance was roguish-like that of a wild animal. Scars decorated his face, with his messy hair of dark brown partially covering it. There's a violent gleam in his green orbs. Hidden under his layer of clothing were multiple bandages, hiding the scars he endured during his conflicts. Leighton was and would always be a ticking timebomb, waiting for an excuse to flay the others alive. The man with the beard, supposedly Calder, stands up from his table, pointing an accusing finger in Leighton's direction. "It's Captain Prescott to you!" Unbothered by Captain Prescott's outburst, Captain Leighton spins a finger through his tangled beard, his beard reaching past his throat. A woman sitting next to Captain Leighton only laughs, covering her lips with her hand. On each finger were multiple rings made of valuable metal and gemstones, and her outfit wasn't tattered, unlike the others at this table. "I wouldn't call you much of a captain either. I've heard word that you're in your chambers drinking away," she points at Captain Prescott, making a circular motion with her finger, "compared to us. Your skin has been left untouched by the Sun and salt of the seas. The only touch you get is when the rum hits your lapping tongue."
Her joke causes everyone to snicker, even the violent man sitting beside her chortles. Prescott's face twisted with fury before sitting back down in his chair, taking another swig of his wooden mug, "You're all talk, Captain Reeves. From what the sea birdies told me is that you bribe your way out of conflict. Barely any blood on your silken hands," he grumbled, while Reeves raised a singular brow, "It's called business. Maybe you learn something about if you weren't a drunkard." She flexes off her exquisite clothing. Her attire consisted of gold silk and black linen. Playing with a strand of her wavy hair of red, her hair bouncing back in position each time she lets go. "A fool who's an excellent navigator. Had I mentioned that I was the first to attend the meeting?" Intrigued by the brewing conflict, the others remained quiet. Captain Reeves' laughter never ceased, her light brown eyes shining brighter, "I bet to be the first to have a drink."
Almira pulls out one of her pistols, shooting at Prescott's mug, watching the beverage leak from the bullet holes. The navigator glares daggers in Almira's way, then focuses on the man sitting on his left. "Can't you believe this?!? Why is everyone against me!?!" The person beside him was wearing an eyepatch with a decorative skull stitched into the fabric. His skin tone was a dark brown, like that of chocolate, and his hands were covered with fingerless gloves. He appears underdressed for the occasion, wearing a simple shirt and pants with a sleeveless leather coat. His singular eye of amber was seething with boredom, moving his only eye to examine Prescott. "It's because you're a fool." He adjusts in the chair, shifting the rifle settled in his lap to fix its position. "C'mon and aid me, Captain Crowley! I never sunk any of your fleets! Only there's!" Crowley turns away, shutting his eye to take a nap. It's silently clear that the conversation between them is over, making Prescott snort.
Another fellow voiced his opinions, his original skin tone unknown, as it's been tanned heavily from staying outside for an extended time. The palms of his hands are withered, but not because of combat, it was worn down from wooden material. His dark blue eyes thoroughly inspected the individuals sitting at the table. "I have enough of this foolery. Hurry up and share what's important." He was oddly calm, with his posture composed yet defensive. Almira huffs, "Always the impatient one, Captain Uberto. Do you sense a storm brewing, mister helmsman?" She watches as he rakes his fingers through his dirty blonde hair to push it back to keep it away from his eyes. He grew quiet after that, only huffing before staring out the window at the clouds. At the very end of the table were two other women who kept to themselves during the meeting. "He is right, you know. We have to hurry this along, or else some random pirates attempt to claim what's ours." The one who spoke was Captain Wright, her long, straight black hair tied in a tight bun. The color of the woman's skin was a sunkissed yellow, her monolid eyelids hovering over her seemingly black eyes. No one can outshine her combat strategies in the waters and lands, her tactics unmatched with her mind always brewing with plans. Her outfit is moderate, but the way she carries her makes her overbearing for some.
Lastly, the woman across from Captain Wright nodded in agreement with the other's impatience. She reeked of gunpowder, her skin permanently stained by what appeared to be charcoal. Her hair was partially singed off from her many failed attempts at making explosives. She's known as Captain Hayes, the demolition expert and the creator of most explosives currently sold in the pirate market. "I have a booming business to run. I can't keep stalling here waiting for you to spill the powder, mate." Hayes rests her left cheek in the palm of her hand, staring at Almira nestled at the front of the table. That made everyone eager to begin the meeting, making Captain Salvador grin. "I know all of you are craving for more. I can see it in your crazed eyes," turning her focus to Captain Crowley, "eye, too." She pauses to add a dramatic effect to her future words, clasping her hands together and setting them on the table. Prescott leans in his seat, Crowley awakens from his short nap, Leighton's blood-crazed eyes settled, Reeves's impish grin only grew, Uberto finally pays attention to Almira, Wright completely turns her body to face her, and Hayes appears intrigued to something else that doesn't involve bombs. "Oh, and what would that be?" Wright asked, interested for once within the conversation. Almira's smile turns wicked, her eyes burning with passion. Now that everyone was on her and eagerly waiting, she finally spilled.
"Immortality."
╔═══━━━───~•|•|•~───━━━═══╗
Plot
╚═══━━━───~•|•|•~───━━━═══╝
Children of these infamous pirates woke up one day and found a peculiar marking placed randomly on their bodies. The marking is in the shape of a skull shattered in the middle, and its eyes are the same color as their respective parents. It's a debt that needs to be paid, but you can't buy it off with coins. Oh no. This one is cleared off by offering your life or someone else's. It's a due that never gets the other's approval. They've been cursed by the Reaper of the Seas, a punishment for their parents' sins of seeking immortality. The markings are deemed cursed within the pirate community, a source of bad luck since it acts like a tracker for the Reaper of the Seas. Now, the eight children banded together to find their parents to free themselves from this curse by hunting down their parents. Their journey won't be easy, as the Reaper of the Seas is determined to claim their souls. He's eager to send his fleet of undead pirates and sea monster children to hunt them down to claim what he sees as rightfully his.