Errol 'The Shark' Shaker - Turn One

Errol Shaker looked out from his position next to the wheel at his loyal crew carrying out their duties. To them he was ‘Captain’ whilst to his enemies and those who sought to bring him to justice for his ‘so-called’ crimes he was ‘The Shark’.

The wind was getting up again and the sails billowed as Errol looked again at the notes he’d made from the charts laid out in his map room below. This mysterious robed passenger of theirs had them sailing into pretty much unchartered waters hunting for the legendary Island of the Lost. Still at least he’d paid them half their hefty fee before they left the old smugglers port and said they would get the other half when he was returned there.

Also of course there were the stories of the great lost city of this isle and the treasures that lay therein. This stranger claimed only to want to find something of particular interest to him and had said anything else Errol and his men could take, well it sounded like a good deal at the time…

It was then that he heard his second mate Meenus calling out some curses and backing away from the centre of the deck. A light was forming in the air and more of the crew started to grab at weapons and back away from it. From the light faint wailing could be heard.

The light was expanding and what looked like a hole actually appeared in mid air. Through it dropped several large lumps which seemed to be the source of the strange wailing cries. The lumps hit the deck and the hole shrank to nothing and then vanished leaving a small puff of smoke in the air.

Dar groaned and rubbed his head, opening his eyes to find himself led atop several of his comrades and surrounded by a bunch of over twenty cutlass and flintlock-wielding pirates. As Stumpy and the others started to come around, Dar slowly got to his feet and did the first thing which came into his head when meeting potentially hostile strangers… he offered them a joint of Brain Weed.

The circle of pirates parted and through them strode the broad-shouldered, long-limbed man with thick ropey muscles and black curling locks with sideburns. Dar noticed the cold icy-blue eyes of the swarthily handsome man, his sea-and-salt tanned flesh displaying tattoos and angry scars across the chest through his open shirt.

An impressive cutlass with an ivory handle in the shape of a sea dragon could be seen jutting from his belt along with a saw-toothed knife, a leather bullwhip and a pair of apparently gold-plated pistols. A large gold earring hung from his left ear and sitting next to it on his left shoulder was an ugly parrot of green ragged plumage.

“What have we here?” declared Errol, the parrot Steerkrook quick to answer, “Uglee bastards! Uglee bastards!”

Telling the parrot to be quiet he looked across the strange individuals who had literally dropped out of the air. There was a dwarf of surprising good looks, dressed almost pirate like with leather trews and an open black shirt displaying a medallion. There was a man also dressed in black and next to him a true muscular warrior type who looked as if he could certainly handle himself in a brawl. The man who had offered his men the roll of weed had rather long hair and scars around the edge of his face, his long leather trench coat seemed to hide the muscular frame of a fighter.

Finally from the bottom of the heap rose the strangely dressed individual, hoisting a shoulder bag up that had slipped from his shoulder. The Hawaiian shirt he wore was so garish it was hard to look at. “Errrm.. Hello… I’m… Menahem…,” the figure said slowly and loudly as if he’d assumed Errol was foreign and unable to speak the common tongue, “and… these… are… my… comrades Da…”

Menahem did not get to continue as from up in the crow’s nest came the cry, “Ship Ahoy!”

Looking off to the East, Errol raised the spy glass that was handed to him and he could see that another ship similar in size to his own was sailing on what appeared to be an intercept course. The ship flew the Jolly Roger and the raven design on the sails meant it could only be ‘Black Gorhook’, renown as a dirty blaggard even amongst fellow pirates.

It looked as if they were readying themselves for a fight and Errol pondered the sixteen cannons his own ship possessed, eight port and eight starboard. It looked like they might be evenly matched. The question was, why would Captain Gorhook be so far out in unchartered waters, this was certainly not the trade routes where he normally plied his trade…