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“I may be able to learn what type of reanimation was used. It will require for me to attend somewhere the spell still has lingering energies, so, effectively, the location of either, the reanimation, the necromancer, or the animated. However, I do not know how much it will help us, unless it is a very uncommon one I can find something to exploit their natural magical weaknesses. “

 

 

 

The undead were a bit of a fickle thing for Hakim. Not only because he didn’t know how to feel about them from an ethical and moral standpoint, but also because they were plain weird. Every magic culture he knew of had some sort of necromancy. Often they were pretty similar, from the style to the execution. And most worryingly, they usually weren’t that difficult, compared to other spells.

 

 

But it was not his style. There were other ways of achieving his goals, he would not have to stoop that low. Ever, he hoped.

 

 

“I appreciate your statement, Mr. al-Misri, but, as I assume both of us can imagine, with all the things I have seen and read, I can no longer go back to Islam like before. Even if you just gave me an idea, something we may be able to use later…”

 

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Hannah flashed a brilliant smile at Sha’ir. The lads always said she was irresistibly charming when she smiled like that. Personally she thought they were just trying to get in her trousers, and she’d decide that without input from any of them, thanks. “Oi, you’re a bright penny, aren’t you? Why do you think we’re ‘ere?” Her smile went from brilliant to mischievous. Now that was the one that made the lads drop trou. Though, both parties were generally quite pissed at the time, so grain of salt. “I said I dunno who he brought back, right? Do know they’ve got ‘istory round here. One at least, probably two based on signal strength. Find the source of the signal.” She snapped her fingers. “Find the pirates. Simple enough, yeah? Thought I’d have Flint do it, but since you’re such a bright penny, you just volunteered.” And there was that brilliant smile again, but she turned down a bit as looked from Sha’ir to Asad. “All the same to me, mate. Smash, burn, dispel, whatever. Long as there’s no more quaint little villages gettin’ shelled, yeah?” She stopped smiling entirely when she tossed Flintlock a glance. “Do I look like a mage to you? I know a little bit about a little bit.” She shrugged helplessly. “Rest is up to you lot.”

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Flintlock

 

"Very well, Lady Hannah of AEGIS, ye asked for our help, and ye shall have it!"

 

"The foul undead, present company excluded, shall be destroyed! Now, one thing...we don't actually know where they are...or indeed if they are here at all" she said, contemplating the map. 

 

"'Tis time, then, to cast eyes on shore and sea, to see if we can't find this here Zombie plague...now then, me friend here, the kid..." she gave a wink and a kiss at Shi'ar "might have some fine sorcery up his sleeves, see if he can't locate the necromancy by various spells eldritch and arcane, and so on and so forth and suchlike" she rambled. 

 

"As for me, I'll be having an out of body experience. Not my favourite type of experience. I prefers me in the body experience, haha, eh, my friend?" she nudged Asad. 

 

"Wake me up for the Rum!" she ordered Handsome Jack, who knew the drill, and put a pillow behind her head. 

 

And so Captain Flintlock lay down, closed her eyes, and fell into an almost motionless trance. And off, off, off, went her spirit, insubstantial and ethereal, flowing over waves and land to see what carnage may, or may not, be happening...

 

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Tracking down magical energies technically wasn’t that difficult. Hakim could see them in the air, after all. Still, the more there was, the more difficult it got. And he probably was too far away to really see them easily. Not to mention the fact that he was currently on a ship that, almost definitely, was filled to the brim with energy, and would drown out everything else in quite a distance.

 

But with some help? The Eyes of Ios were exactly what he could use in a situation like this. He conjured up four golden orbs above the Black Flag, each the size of a small car, which, with incredible speed shot outwards in the cardinal directions, away from the ship. They’d track all magical energies in the area, and alert him of anything. Hopefully he’d sent them out far enough to not register the ship.

 

From that point onwards, he just had to wait. They had large enough of a range to cover the vicinity.

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Flintlock

 

Through the endless ether Flintlock swam. The world seemed faint and dream like to her astral body. 

 

Firstly, and swamp harbour base why is this still open? and so her projection floated into it. 

 

Rusty musket barrels, rusty blades. The trappings of pirates as sure as rum was rum. She should know. She was one. 

 

And then, in multiple planes of existence and spirit, and glowing sigil on a ruin. Somehow, it imprinted a person onto her astral mind. Black hair, black eyes...Jacquotte Delahaye! Ah! There was a name from centuries yonder she would not forget. Nice lass...

 

She snapped back to her body, her eyes wide open. 

 

"Pirates! I mean...more Pirates!" she gasped. 

 

"Well, I didn't see any pirates, but I felt a presence. Jacquotte Delahaye, pirate queen! Well, second pirate queen after me, is!" she added, hastily, knocking her eyes back into focus. "I don't know if she is alive, or dead, or even there any more. But I think she is back!"

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"Technically you'd be behind Ching Shih."  Amir looked at them, though his expression that he reserved at Hannah was... less than the standard reaction she got, though that might be the mild annoyance of realizing that he was essentially wrangling a drunk, in Flintlock, and he hated wrangling drunks, it was worse with her though.  Her crew.

 

"Fine, got it.  Stop this stuff.  Though, this is the worst plan I've seen from AEGIS whenever I've had to deal with them."  He didn't really need to add much more to it.  "I'll cover the damage costs if it come to this, as apparently, your people don't have a good file on me."

 

Trusting Sha'ir, he looked back to Flintlock, "Which one of your rotted motley has the best eyes?  I can get him up high enough he might be able to see the physical signs of pirates.  Like a fire on something they're sacking, or something."

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Flintlock

 

"That would be Spike! Spike the Monkey!" answered Flintlock merrily. 

 

The smallest member of the Skeleton Crew stepped up and bowed deeply. "My eyes be sharp as an eagles!" he proudly declared. 

 

Flintlock was a bit more sceptical. Or realistic. "Well, not that sharp. Sharper than a blind bat, maybe. But! On the positive side, being of undead persuasioning, me crew can see in the dark as well as a bat!" she explained. 

 

"Which comes in handy for sneaking up on icebergs and the like. You have got to watch those sneaky icebergs!"

 

Handsome Jack huffed and puffed, muttering under his breath. "I warned Eddie, I warned him. Das Iceberg! I said. Das Iceberg!"

 

"In any case, Icebergs aside, I doubt Spikes eyes are much better than your beautiful blue..I mean brown eyes!" she said, giving Amir a wink. 

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Sha’ir awakened, out of what appeared to be some sort of stasis, judging by the fact he’d not moved at all. He reached out both his hands, then took a few steps forward and addressed the others.

 

“Anne de Graff. I do not know who she is, or what she wants. She controls the air around here. A dangerous foe, if this is her power. I do not know much about sailing, but control of the very winds may mean we will be better off choosing alternate measures. “

 

He'd obviously gotten all the other things that had been said. He’d simply not moved, it added to the mystique, or at least he felt that way. But nobody else had to know that. And there was one way of communicating all of the previously mentioned.

 

“What have I missed, while on my mental journey?”

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Amir's response was to eye the undead... pirate... thing carefully, before breathing a sigh of relief at Sha'ir coming back to the present.  "Do you know where they, because otherwise, control of the winds or anything else means precious little if anything at all."  As he pulled out his phone, and started searching for a news feed to see if anything was going on.  Of course...

 

He looked to the AEGIS agent, "Well do you have anything more?  Ye, o' the magical, mystical, chartered intelligence and security service with your power of satellites."  As the billionaire showed his annoyance at the vagueness of this... Hannah person.  If that was her real name.  Likely not.  Spies.  

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Hannah sighed. “About that. We’re…a bit off the books. No money. No resources. My boss, the gormless git? The pirate raisin’ prat was his CI. Warned ‘im about that one, too, but God forbid he listen to his expert. Now, when the faeces hits the oscillatin’ device, who does he call beggin’ and pleadin’ to fix it quiet like? So he doesn’t get sacked? Bloody me, that’s who.” She pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Lighting her cig, she went on. “Of course, he’s gettin’ sacked anyway. My report on this is going right to the director.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get his job.”

 

She frowned slightly. “That said, s’pose I could make a few calls. I’m owed a few favors, even if the magic screws up the satellite image.” She grinned insouciantly at Asad. “Don’t imagine it compares to your contact list, though.” Her expression grew thoughtful, and the way she spoke next was clearly thinking out loud. “Lovely girl down in Arcane Theory owes me for getting her boyfriend human again. Lads down in Shamanism owe me for keeping quiet about that dryad. And that’s not even getting’ into what the poor Undead Studies sods owe me. Hmph.” Her eyes focused again. “Yeah, think I can do a bit, if you really need the ‘elp. And for the record, I do have a little more info. The lady pirates stole the USS Constellation yesterday. Right out of Baltimore Harbor. Picked up a crew the old fashioned way. At gunpoint.”

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“All of this strikes me as fairly vital information, Ms. Snell. This changes many things, and I am sure my colleagues, if I may call the two of you that, will agree with me that it also affects our priorities. “

 

So it wasn’t even a proper AEGIS mission. Of course, because that’d’ve been too easy. And probably involved more east-coasters, Hakim admitted to himself. Sha’ir was still a small fish in an incredibly huge pond. And this was his chance to change that, even if it probably wouldn’t be particularly public.

 

He paced around the ship for some time. It helped him think to walk around. Sitting still was good. Walking just did a bit more. A ship being stolen? That had to be big enough news. Something to work with.

 

“I suggest we instead focus on the stolen ship. It should’ve been high-profile enough for something to sink through. And with our assorted suite of powers, we should be able to track a signature. A stolen warship should leave enough to be traced even through non-magical means, after all. “

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Flintlock

 

"Ah...a battleship! or something...something yankee. Big guns. Jennie! We need an upgrade!" said Flintlock, pointing at the short blonde zombie who manned the guns. 

 

"Upgrade your fat ass! I hate the lot of you!" screamed said Zombie in a Nordic accent, who went by the name of Sweet Jennie. 

 

She stormed down to the cannons to sulk, and polish. And try to slap Mr. Beaky, the elusive Parrot of the Black Flag. 

 

"What I am trying to say is the Black Flag may be the fastest thing on this fair Eath's Seas. But maybe not the biggest guns...." she mumbled. In her day, the Black Flag was one of the finest vessels on the sea, and she would have been confident it could outsail and outfight anything. But that day was three hundred years ago. 

 

She stumbled to the wheel. 

 

"Let the eyes in the skies show the way. And tell me where to set course!"

 

Edited by Supercape
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Hannah pulled out her smartphone and dialed. “Oi. Yeah, it’s me. Callin’ in part of that favor you owe me. Trace the USS Constellation for, would you? There’s a good lad. Email?” She shrugged. “Whatever.” She hung up. Shortly afterward, the phone buzzed. “Oi, lookit that. She’s running fast. Heading for London, she is. One more call, as I’m now bothered by something.” She used speed dial this time. “Oi. You didn’t send me the physical descriptions like you promised, you daft git!” The person on the other end spluttered loudly enough to be heard but not understood, and Hannah held the phone away from her face and let them. When they subsided she put the phone back to her ear. “What’s that? You’ve got a million things to do and I’m at the bottom? Bugger that, daft git. You owe me, and I’m not the forgivin’ type. Right. Got it.” She hung up and sighed. “Didn’t want to ‘ave to work today, and especially not for him, sod it all.”

 

Hannah looked from one hero to the next and then back at her phone. As if on cue, it buzzed for another message. “Right. Simple enough. Mostly likely, the Captain is Grace O’Malley. Seems to have a few weapons on her, and knows how to use them.” She scrolled down.“Second in command, or First Mate, is probably Ching Shih. Controls water, that one. S’how they got the ship out of her berth. Lot o’ power on her. Third, by process of elimination and a few other things, is probably Jeanne de Clisson. Bloody French aristo with a sword and armor.” She looked back at the heroes.” You know about Delahaye. She’s got a Barrett, of all things, and a few other modern guns. The other one, de Graff, has that control over air Sha’ir said, and seems to be pretty good with a sword. Last thing, crew’s not all there because they’re threatened. Seems they picked up a few pirate fanboys and girls along the way. So, be careful o’ that. And the US Government would like their old ship back in one piece, so don’t go smashin’ it up. Think that about covers it.” She sighed again. “Director better bloody well appreciate my effort. Blew a year of favors for this.” She tilted her head curiously. “Right. Forgot that bit. Apparently the dead prat was an ectomancer, not a necromancer. Blame me for that one. What I know about magic wouldn’t fill a thimble. So, not zombies.” She blinked, yawned, and took a seat on a rope coil. She grinned. “Not bad, yeah?”

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Flintlock

 

"Anything else the US Government would like? A diamond-studded tea-cosy for their pepperpot, mayhap?" said Flintlock, rolling her eyes. 

 

Not smashed...easier said than done. And Sweet Jennie always itchin' to let loose the cannons!

 

"Ectomancy! They be ghost pirates then! Harhar! Not zombies. Well, that explains it. Zombies are a good bunch, aren't ye?" she yelled at her crew. 

 

"Aharrr! So we arrr!" they chorused in agreement. 

 

"Now then, set course for London! I haven't been there for a while. It lost its charm after that night with Mr. Wilde, to be honest. Ah! what a man he was!" she swanned left and right, lost in pleasant memories. 

 

"Maybe, with enough speed and eldritch wind, we might even catch them in the open seas! Raise the sail! Lift the anchor! Thaumatize the Ectosail!" she commanded. 

 

"Thaumatize the what?" said Handsome Jack, scratching his head. 

 

"Its just showmanship...makes us look spectral and mysterious" whispered Flintlock back, kicking his shin. 

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Amir smiled tightly before he spoke, carefully, as if he was conscientious in choosing his words.  "Thank you.  Though, at this point if someone higher up wants to preserve the ship, then this needs to be aboveboard with sufficient support to do so."  She was feeding them bulls***, he knew that.  He wouldn't be surprised if she was responsible by a mistake, or some other thing.  The folksy, daft, behavior didn't fly.  He knew better.

 

"I mean, they can still call in the League, or notify the Vanguard, or... I dunno how many resources AEGIS, though I am familiar with the contracts they tend to push out."  He waved a hand dismissively at that point.

 

"Let's do this then."

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Hannah shrugged. The AEGIS agent had to remind the billionaire of something. How novel. “Might be able to cadge something out of UNISON. Know a bloke there. But, calling in the big guns...you forget this is off book?” Her smile and tone were gently teasing, in the way that never failed to convince even the most uncertain of the lads to take her to bed. Granted, as previously stated they were both usually pissed at the time.

 

Sha’ir’s magic braced the Black Flag’s sails with extra wind, and the pirate ship really got to moving. Aided by Hannah’s tracking email, they closed in on the commandeered USS Constellation. Soon enough, they were in sight. Whoever was in the crow’s next gave the appropriate cry. Hannah stayed seated, but mere minutes later everyone could see the old ship ahead of them. Things seemed to be going well…until a high caliber bullet edged the old pirate ship’s main mast, missing one of the crew by less than a centimeter.

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Sha’ir looked surprisingly unfazed by the attack. In reality, it had scared the living hells out of him, he’d just managed to get up a stasis spell on himself just in time. Keeping up the illusion was important. And once he’d calmed himself down a bit, he moved his head to look over at the constellation.

 

“So much for the stealthy approach. It appears their physical weapons outstrip ours. If we plan on not doing too much physical damage, we will need an alternative to naval combat. I suggest a boarding action. We are in range for me to transport us there. “

 

Boarding a magical pirate ship sounded good. Cool, mainly. Really, really cool. The sort of this Hakim had hoped for when he’d taken up the mantle of Sha’ir. Swashbuckling action! High-seas skirmishes full of magic! This was more like the superhero life he’d imagined.

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Flintlock

 

"Zut Alors!" cried Garcon "Gutboy", the Black Flags almost competent cook as the bullet whizzed past him. "Zey have guns! Ze Cowards!". 

 

"Cowards!!!!" he yelled at them, shaking his machete. 

 

Flintlock leaped to the front of the ship, peering into the skies and oceans and the USS Constellation. 

 

"Tough as this old ship be, we would be sunk soon enough" she concluded. Simply put, they seemed to have the bigger guns. "Hold your cannons, Sweet Jennie!"

 

"Ill hold them, and shove them up your nostrils!" she screamed back. 

 

"Lets give them a bigger threat to fire at!"

 

Flintlock never really liked using sorcery. It was pulling things that should not exist into existence. But needs must, and the thing that should not exist in this case was seething mass of tentacles and black shark like eyes that bubbled away on the surface of the ocean, twenty feet across, with blistering organs festering on its skin. A spectre from another dimension, most fortunately not quite on this plane of existence, but bound to Flintlocks sorcery. And she promptly commanded it, in all its writhing glory, to head for the USS Constitution...

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Flintlock (The Skeleton Crew)

 

Sweet Jennie screamed some Scandinavian curse. It sounded appropriately viking in nature. Speakers of old Norse would no doubt hear something about entrails, spines, and complicated symbolic entwining of the two in a rugged nautical knot. 

 

The Black Flags cannons fired. 

 

"Blast it Jennie! I mean, don't blast it!" shouted Flintlock, secretly pleased at the disobedience. 

 

Handsome Jack kept the Black Flag sailing through the waves, and the skies darkened. The Sea started frothing, and in seconds, rain was pelting down from the skies. A storm washed around the ships. "Just the way I am liking it!" he yelled heartily. 

 

Most of the Skeleton Crew took cover, waiting to jump from ship to ship. Billy the Fish did not. 

 

"See you down below!" he laughed, sword in mouth, and diving straight into the frothing ocean. He was more at home underwater than on land, and with a merry stroke of his arms, found a perch on the anchor of the Black Flag....

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The cannon shot was off the mark, but between it and the rapidly brewing storm the pirates took notice. One of the flew into the air, and the wind gusted hard. The Black Flag’s customary storm clouds were completely blown away. Sha’ir instantly knew this was Anne de Graff. The magical signature was identical to the one he had detected earlier.

 

Meanwhile, a bullet ripped through the monstrous illusion. The source of the bullet was Jacquotte Delahaye. Flintlock could tell without looking that the former pirate captain and skilled sniper was on the Constellation.

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Flintlock

 

"By my ruby red lips!" sang Flintlock, dramatically waving her fist at the storm-breaking pirate in the sky. 

 

"Ill clip those wings, you ugly vulture! See if I don't!" she vowed. 

 

Or, more accurately, something horrible from the darkest depths of imagination would. 

 

This time, the spectral Kraken gave a tonic spasm, shuddering in a most unpleasant way. It shot through the air, blubbering, festering, eyes swimming over its fat rubbery body. It swam not in air, or sea, but in ethereal tides that blew, howling, through strange dimensions. 

 

"Muahahahaha!" cackled Flintlock, her already slightly cracked mind creeping away from sanity. 'Twas not easy, your mind being in those dimensions. 

 

The mass of tentacles writhed and stretched, long, now spindly rather than fat, and wrapped around the skyborne pirate...

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And then, everything happened at once. Adrenaline made its way though Hakim’s body, something he certainly wasn’t opposed to. And so far, nobody had brought up any objection to his plan. Which was all he needed. While the ship moved across the waves, people scattered to their positions, and cannonballs were fired, Sha’ir simply held out his right hand, an inky black circle forming in the air in front of him, surrounded by what looked like green light stuck in place.

 

It continued to grow, until it was roughly 10 ft. from one end to another. And then, the Spellsmith simply stepped through. At the same time, the same thing had happened on the other ship, and shortly afterwards, Sha’ir stepped through. His robes had grown more tight, emulating the look of a stereotypical pirate’s outfit, with a translucent green tricorne sitting on top of his hood.

 

In his hands, he held a pair of similarly ethereal looking weapons, a cutlass and a flintlock pistol. And as soon as he saw the first person move, he pulled the pistol’s trigger. Every kid had had their phase of fantasizing about some exotic “culture”. Hakim’s had been pirates. And right now, he just had to do it, even if it broke Sha’ir’s character. With all the force he could muster, he yelled out.

 

“ARRRRRRRRRRR, Ahoy Mateys!”

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Sha’ir’s pistol shot struck the crew…woman? That moved to intercept him. And she tanked it. Granted, she appeared to be wearing military grade armor, but still. She tanked it.

 

“I find that modern cliché annoying. None of my pirates ever did that.” The Chinese accented English came from the other side of Sha’ir. There was a small Chinese woman there casually leaning against what must be the door to the Captain’s cabin. Her face held no expression. Her eyes were blank, as if they were buttons on a doll. This had to be Ching Shih, pirate empress. “Though they did sing the most filthy songs when they thought I wasn’t listening.” She sang a few syllables in Cantonese, and sighed.  “I had them castrated and thrown in the ocean still bleeding to discourage the practice. Never quite worked.” “You didn’t ask the Captain’s permission to board, dog. Good bye.” She casually lifted a hand and a massive volume of water shot out. It slammed into Sha’ir, knocked him off his feet, and carried him away. Before he realized it, the two ships were shrinking into specks on the horizon. And there was nothing but the sea underneath to catch him.

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Flintlock (The Skeleton Crew)

 

"Come on you bags of the bones! Lets show them what we are the made of!" sang Handsome Jack, happily. 

 

Of course, he had to stay behind on the Black Flag to pilot it. Such was the burden of being second in command. 

 

To various cheers, jeers, and songs, the Skeleton Crew - bar Billy the Fish who was still hooked to the Anchor deep below, and Handsome Jack himself, drew cutlasses and knives (or in Thin Lucy's case, a plank of wood) and marched through the portal on the USS Constellation. 

 

Bullets rang out. Swords glinted. 

 

The Skeleton Crew did not bleed, but rotting flesh was torn aside from bullets, and bones dry and brittle splintered easily enough. They were not exactly tough of flesh. It was more that they didn't need blood or nerves. They cracked and broke under the barrage of pistol fire, but they kept going all the same. 

 

And they were skilled enough swordsmen, and strong enough of limb. Soon, the USS Constellation was awash the sound of swords clashing and gunpowder firing. Tussles and mad melee were breaking out everywhere...

Edited by Supercape
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