Log, Incomplete

[heart0foak.livejournal.com]

When; Shortly after this
Rating; God knows. PG-13?
Characters; Mister Norrington (heart0foak) and Captain Davy Jones (deadnordying
Summary; Like a doomed fool, Norrington goes out to the Flying Dutchman to attempt a parley with Davy Jones. Dreadfully sorry if there have been spoilers, but you've all had plenty of time to see it now. :P
Log;


Strolling across the sands, red naval coat slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, James Norrington seemed the very picture of arrogant self-assurance. In truth, he was almost crapping himself in fear. He'd agreed to meet the pirate other pirates were scared of, the bogeyman of the ocean deeps, and he had no idea what was going to happen. Fear was an ally, though, he knew that. It kept a man on his toes. A man without fear on the high seas was dead in a very short time. And death, well, death he'd stared in the eyes so many times they were practically on a first name basis..

He reached the docks that had materialised with the Going Merry and found the Black Swan's longboat tied up there. It was a difficult craft to handle alone, but he'd managed before. After a quick look around to check that no-one had followed him to try any additional heroics, he clambered over the side and took up position on the bench, before shipping the oars and untying the painter. As the boat floated out beyond the two vessels, he scanned the horizon. Up on the deck of the Swan, something glinted in the mysterious sunlight that shone inside a building. That made him smile.

However, there was one thing missing from this idyllic afternoon. The Dutchman. As the little jolly boat rocked gently on the tide, Norrington shaded his eyes and peered into the distance.

Then, he felt something began to rumble in his feet, and the vibrations continued up through his feet. The water around the boat began to rumble. Norrington dived into the bows, partially to make sure the boat had less of a chance of capsizing on him, and partially out of abject terror. Sadly, this meant he missed a hundred feet of rotting, dripping, barnacle-festooned wood emerging from the briny depths in a great shower of spray, like a great and terrible leviathan of old, and coming to rest a few yards away. Heavily drenched by the salty blast from the Flying Dutchman's appearance, Norrington sat up, choked briefly on the stench of old seaweed, then fished out the oars and paddled over to align himself with the port side of the monstrous vessel. He peered up from below at the mass of wooden spikes, the overly pointed prow, and the tattered and hanging sails, coated with the caught up flotsam of centuries. It was a huge battleship of a boat, a mighty command, probably relatively slow with the size of it, but with some astonishing firepower. He was impressed.

As the longboat bobbed by the vessel's keel, Norrington stood up carefully and swung his coat over his shoulder again. He put a hand to his mouth and face up above him towards the deck.

"Jones! Permission to come a.."

A rope ladder thumped unceremoniously into the boat next to him. He frowned at it, shrugged, and began to climb...

Comments

[deadnordying.livejournal.com]

The silence that hung over the Dutchman then succeeded in doing no more than proving the ship all the more eerie than it should have seemed. Of course, having a long-sunken vessel rise from the depths before one’s very eyes was not a common experience, and the sight of it would be enough to have many an honest (or the opposite, as it were) sailor quaking in his boots. Numerous had even gone so far as to abandon ship in the moments before the mighty Kraken would surface to swallow them alive, torn from their blind terror and pathetic attempts at escape and thrust into a whole new Hell. A Hell crafted and maintained by the very being that stood idle upon the deck of his ship; the legend that was Davy Jones.

Not another soul milled about him on deck, and though the former Commodore would be unable to assume as much through sight alone there were no other hands aboard. The Devil of the Seas had arrived in this world alone, with naught but his ship and the knowledge that his former crew had very likely been released from their contracts upon his own disappearance--death--whatever this had been. Nonetheless, Jones had more than enough experience on his side what with an eternity of sailing, though it was hardly difficult to man such a ship on one’s own when you had power over the seas themselves. So there he was, dripping with moisture as did the rest of the ship as he awaited Norrington’s appearance.

Before the other man succeeded in clearing half the length of the ladder, Jones was making his way back toward the very spot onto which the man would have to climb, coming to a halt just before it. The pincer which had long since replaced his left hand squeezed shut a single time as he gazed downward through narrowed eyes, the right appendage fixed upon the barnacle-encrusted cane that aided him in his step.

So soon as the other made his way to the deck, features contorted into the closest thing to a smirk they could muster in their mutated state. The dripping tentacles writhed as Davy began to speak, and even afterwords would not set idle.

“Welcome aboard the Flying Dutchman, Commodore,” he snarled, fingers tightening upon his crutch as the elongated tentacle (once his index finger) wrapped about the rotting wood.

[heart0foak.livejournal.com]

Norrington took the last couple of runs and vaulted over the side. Once he was steady on his feet again, he looked up at Jones. And cringed back against the hull at the sight of the ever-moving tentacles and the beady, squiddish eyes. This didn't last long, before he clapped a military facade of calm over his fear, and stepped forward to face the creature.

He bowed, politely, taking the opportunity to glance around the deck. No sign of the terrible crew, but then they could be aft, or below decks. "By your leave, Captain Jones. Here I am, as promised, now, will you parley?"

[deadnordying.livejournal.com]

Jones didn't hesitate to speak. "You'd not be here were it not my intent." There was a pause, in which Davy looked the man before him up and down only to continue on. "You are to tell me any and all of what you know of this place and for what reason I am here. I've the intelligence to know it's something to do with one of you and I'm quite certain it won't have been kept silent. Bother not with lies and ye'll find your stay far less threatening."

[heart0foak.livejournal.com]

"Lies, Captain Jones?" Norrington said, shifting his coat on to his shoulder again. "You offend me. Mildly. Very well. You'll find a lot more by reading everything you can find on your little glowing box, but I'll give you the crib notes of what I've found so far. Apparently, some beings, of unknown origin but only referred to as "The Higher Ups" seem to have created this place as a sort of timed explosive intended to destroy all worlds everywhere. Hence the insufferable ticking I'm sure you've noticed: That would be the countdown to judgement day. When this place goes, all worlds everywhere go. The winding and fuel for this damnable clock are the energies of fear, pain and betrayal. Want to know more about that, speak to yonder angel fellow you see up on the mainmast of the Black Swann." He gestured at a black shape lurking in the crow's nest of Sparrow's ship. "In order to obtain said fuel, the city kidnaps people from various different worlds, apparently at random. To keep everything running shipshape and Bristol fashion in this evil nightmare, there are four or so "Gods" with various rather silly oriental-sounding names who inflict curses on the inhabitants to keep them producing the unhappy feelings. It all sounds terribly nonsensical, but apparently it's true. Believe me, I know from personal experience about the curses. Once in this place, one cannot escape except by sacrificing memories to some street vendor woman who's damme tricky to deal with and asks ridiculous prices, or by finding a door apparently at random. We're all trapped here, Jones, and I assume you are too, now." He smiled wryly at that comment. "Now, Quid pro quo, Jones, a question for a question. Where's your crew, with particular reference to Turner's father?"

[deadnordying.livejournal.com]

"My crew was required to serve only so long as I did remain their Captain, Commodore. I should assume that my arrival here was enough to break what agreement bound them to service. Those not here will have passed on as they should have long ago."

Truth in exchange for truth, while deemed the Devil of the Seas himself Jones was not an entirely dishonorable man. Ruthless, cold, and whatever manner of things struck one thrust into such a bitter manner of eternity, but an accord was an accord, and he was hardly one to have them broken.

"A question for a question, Aye." His voice lowered. "Where is the heart?"

[heart0foak.livejournal.com]

Norrington couldn't help a little smirk at that question, and made a mental note to inform Turner his father was probably safe in whatever afterlife he was originally bound for. "Ah, you really don't beat around the proverbial bush, do you, Captain Jones? Your heart, my dear Captain, is very safe, very safe indeed, and should you be contemplating any sort of action against Sparrow or any of the rest of us, then rest assured, we have the means and the power to do control it, and make life very unpleasant for you."

[deadnordying.livejournal.com]

"Contemplating?" Jones laughed. It was a low, cold sound, entirely lacking in whatever humour should have been present. "What plans I have be set in motion, Commodore, and their execution is up to none but yourselves. I'm interested to know, as it were--what use is threatenin' me with death when I'm somewhere that I cannot die?" If Sparrow was present there (and captaining a ship, no less), it was more than evident that one needed not worry about death in this place.. and if what Norrington had stated was indeed truth, return to their world would be worth very little comparatively to what was asked for it.

The tone used when he did next speak lacked even the feigned humour. "I should like to see what you'll try with my heart, in any case--I do think I'll find out so soon as can." There was the sound of his cutlass drawn with a harsh tug from the scabbard at his side, though it was with surprising speed that he had the decaying blade poised and ready, coming to aim a blow quite directly at the man before him.

[heart0foak.livejournal.com]

"And indeed you shall." Norrington said, swinging his coat from his shoulder, and producing a rapier from its confines, before putting it on and taking up a guard position. "Clearly I've been treating with pirates too long." He said. "Does make one terribly untrusting."

Across on the Black Swan, something winked in the afternoon light.

He parried Jones' first blow, and then fell back towards the side under the onslaught. The pirate captain was an excellent swordsman, and it took most of Norrington's skill to keep him at bay. In a short while, he found his feet against the boards of the side of the ship, and Jones bearing down on him like a cat on a cornered rat.

Quickly, Norrington took a standing leap backwards, and caught himself on the edge of the hull. He parried another blow.

"Good afternoon, Captain Jones." He said. "Something I've always wondered: What exactly do you keep in your locker?"

And with that, he dived backwards into the briny depths. However, he wasn't quite fast enough to keep Jones from catching him a mighty slash across the shoulders, which made the dive less than delicately and precisely executed...

[deadnordying.livejournal.com]

Jones found himself snarling at the splash of red now splashed across his deck, though it was an expression that intensified as the cutlass clattered to the boards beneath him. The hand formerly maintaining the thing in such an expert hold was brought upward to clutch at his chest--at something that was not there--and he emitted a low growl of what would easily be interpreted as pain.

"Perhaps, Commodore, you shall find out sooner than you think."