#Gortez Pirate101 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

save-the-spiral · 5 years ago

Text

Fingerprint of Midas, Trace My Reflection

Dialogue of parent’s crystal and Gortez’ monologue are direct from Pirate101. I based the end fight off of my own experiences solo-ing this dungeon. Warnings for graphic depictions of violence and blood.

(read it on Ao3!)

Darling Alexander Dove was a young captain of just seventeen when he earned what little was left of the legendary Captain Gunn’s treasure. The meager pile atop a volcano was followed by a very contrite Ratbeard. As first adventures go, it was pretty damn good, especially with the freedom he now had to explore the Skull Island Skyways.

Avery gave him another task as a reward- to present a treaty to the Monquistan governor of Puerto Mico, an almost adorably small city of white limestone, full of stuck up little idiots. Alexander was only held back from punting them off their little dollhouse town by Bonnie Anne, his right hand, and a pretty good straight man for his ideas, considering she was a lesbian.

Now, leaving the ancient ruins, and entering the ex-monquistan governor Gortez’ realm, Alexander was excited yet again. His crew followed him as he walked across the village of wild monquistans and rebellious water moles. The thrill of battle was humming in his veins, ready to be set loose, perfect plans coming together and adapting. The exciting conclusion for another adventure.

How would this end? An exciting chase for treasure, for the golden monkey? More volcano battles, more crew mates gained, even if it is to the chagrin of the ever serious and practical Sarah Steele, his fellow Swashbuckler?

Alexander was challenged to fight the greatest warrior of the Valley by the wild monquistan leader, one on one. His crew looked at him funny. Lucky Jack Russel, a friend of his parents’, even offered to take his place, as if he stood a better chance just by raw muscle.

While many other captains would be insulted, Alexander knew what he presented himself as. He was young, barely growing a beard, and rather childish at times. He liked having fun, he liked sparkly, pretty clothes, especially in pink and black, his flag’s colors. He liked to drink his fair share of yum, liked to do daring things, and anyone who looked at him easily assumed he was a vain, vapid idiot. And, to be fair, they weren’t completely wrong.

But Alexander was a swashbuckler, learning from the best of Skull Island. He was the favorite of Avery, and had some of the finest up and coming pirates in his crew. He had a silver tongue, according to Bonnie Anne, even if he always preferred gold aesthetically.

Ordaz was large, sure. The huge warrior held intimidation in spades, throwing around barrels of dynamite as soon as Alexander hid himself from sight. The blinding squeeze of feathers and scales for one moment, and then even in broad daylight no one could spot him. It was easy to wait, watching as Ordaz worked himself up into an exhausting rage.

Then came Alexander's first and final strike, blades held aloft as he kicked off of a barrier of sandbags, knocking the large man down, and keeping him there. The gleaming black void of the warriors eyes, and the pulse he could feel rioting against his blades, reverberating up into his fingers, was invigorating. When the wild monquistan stared at him, startled at the sight of the first human to pass the trial, Alexander just smirked, twirling his shorter blade of the pair, and shrugged.

“Big guy must’ve been tired, it is quite hot out, y’know.” Alexander drawled in his Skull Island accent, plain in comparison to the soft musical rolls of the Monquistans’ speech.

His crew stayed in the small town as he went and got spider eggs, trying to prove himself a provider akin to Gortez in order to please the small taskmaster. This, too, was simple. After all, his cloaking abilities were not limited to battle, and the spiders crawling the area were not exactly attentative to their broods.

He returned easily, nose scrunched as he complained about the spider webs on his boots and stuck in his hair, causing Bonnie Anne to scoff and roll her eyes. He tossed a few extra eggs to Fan Flanders, who grinned a cute froggy smile in thanks for the snack, and gave the rest to the monquistan, eyebrows raised as the little ex-conquistador tried not to act flustered.

“Go into the Cave of Many Voices, and touch the glowing stones. Return to me when you have heard the spirit voices.” He ordered as a final task before finally meeting Gortez.

“Does it matter if my crew joins me this time?” Alexander was getting bored of being alone.

“It shouldn’t” The monkey frowned.

With another cavalier shrug, Alexander led his crew up to a cave entrance. Bonnie Anne and Sarah Steele flanked him, Ratbeard and Subodai behind them, Jack Russel and Fan Flanders trailing. Old Scratch was left on the ship, keeping The Bronze Hunter from being ransacked by cowards who would rather steal than fight for their prize.

The cave was far more spacious than Alexander would have guessed. Smooth, well trodden stone was under their feet, large glowing magenta crystals jutting out of every wall, down from the ceiling as well. A large bouquet of crystals stood out in the middle of the chamber, small offerings of feathers and bananas at the crystals’ base.

“Not exactly my color, but I’ll take it.” Alexander muttered, causing Bonnie Anne to huff and roll her eyes, Sarah and Fan snickering. “Stay back y’all, some amazing spirit listenin’ is about to go on, don’t want anyone caught in the crossfire.”

Bonnie Anne snorted this time. “Yes Captain.” She said, nudging him with an elbow before stepping back, nodding at the rest of the crew to do the same.

Alexander walked up close to the largest crystal, wider than him, scraping the stone ceiling. He saw his own reflection, a slightly stubbly young man, obvious Mooshu features, pierced ears, long black hair. The golden buttons on his coat and boots shone in the light emanating from the crystals, the blades at his hips sending small beams of purple light onto the walls.

He casually took off his gloves, stuffing them on the inside of his jacket pocket. He examined his nails, painted black and slightly chipped, for a moment, before continuing on.

Alexander placed his palms flat against the large crystal, head bowed, and was startled to hear an echoing, familiar voice.

“Son… hear me!” Rang out in the small cavern, feminine, with a hint of a rural Mooshu accent.

When Alexander looked back up, his reflection showed a strange, flickering vision of his mother. Her soft, round cheeks, the crows feet around her eyes, the intricate braid cluttered with small charms from her husband, her crimson tricorne with a deep black feather, all the same as the day she left, seven years ago.

A masculine voice, thick with emotion and a strong Grizzleheim trader’s accent, joined the first voice.

“Find us! Find our grave! We are waiting for you!”

The reflections showed a different person, taller, closer to Alexander’s height, with his nose, and long braided blonde hair, bright, mischievous eyes, now full of sorrow, tears streaking into the bushy beard that Alexander would complain about because of how it itches during hugs. Alexander leaned closer to the crystal, stunned.

“I’d know those voices anywhere.” Jack Russel mutters, not helping at all, just wanting to say something, anything.

“Shining city…” The voices of his parents warbled, echoing strangely again, “El Dorado! The Key to El Dorado! Find us! We are waiting… Go to the-”

The crystals dimmed, the reflections leaving without Alexander noticing- as if they hadn’t been there in the first place- and his hands fell to his sides, cold as ice. His soft features turned harsh, his usually smirking mouth twisting into a sneer, the tan skin of his face wrinkling in the same flash of a moment where his left hand moved, punching at the flat crystalline face of the gem.

“CAPTAIN!” Bonnie Anne dragged him back, her taller frame taking advantage as she yanked him off his now kicking feet, heavy heels digging into her stocking covered shins, before Jack Russel darted in front of Alexander, hands on the young captain’s shoulders.

“Captain. Captain- we have a job to do. You can’t let this stop you, you can’t-”

Alexander continued swearing and snarling, hands curling into fists.

Bonnie Anne stepped back, leaving room as she dropped him on his ass.

“Now is not the time to act like a fucking child, Dove. Don’t start acting like those stupid monquistans and go rogue on us.” Bonnie Anne’s accent sunk into her tirade, and though Alexander had years of experience understanding Bonnie Anne, he really knew he was in deep shit when she called him Dove.

Not Captain, not Alexander, but Dove, the little boy she met on the streets, the brat who couldn’t even hold a knife right.

Alexander stopped, hands scraped and bruised now, his knuckles purple with potential breaks. He carded his right hand through his hair, letting the tie come loose so he could fix it into some semblance of order as he calmed himself.

“Sorry Annie.” Alexander’s voice was hoarse now.

Bonnie Anne motioned the rest of the crew out of the cave, kneeling down and leaning on the sturdy Scaramanga musket Alexander fetched for her months ago, the black walnut, dark steel, and gold bands all gleaming with her meticulous weapon maintenance. Her pointed face of russet and white fur faced him, dark and clever eyes piercing him to the bone as always.

“It’s been years since you’ve lost it like that, Alexander.” Bonnie’s matter-of-fact tone cut him down even more.

“It’s also been years since I’ve heard my parents’ voices, Bonnie Anne.”

“I know better than anyone else, but Alexander, you can’t just break down like that. Not while we’re in the middle of a mission, especially not if lives are on the line. Imagine if that happened mid-battle, if you couldn’t direct us? The thing that separates us from every other amateur crew is direction is you, and your brilliant mind.” She poked his temple, careful of her short claws, and then held his hands. “You lead us, Alexander. You aren’t just an orphan street rat, not anymore, and I'm not either. We will find your parents. We’ll figure out this whole El Dorado thing, but not today. Today we bring Gortez to Puerto Mico, whether he wants to go or not.”

Alexander nodded, and roughly dragged on his pink gloves.

“There’s my captain.” Bonnie Anne grinned, small, sharp teeth on display, and Alexander hyped himself up internally, until he could smirk just like always.

“Onward, Right Hand Bonnie Anne.” He finally said, his Rs rough, enunciated like a proper pirate.

“Aye aye, Captain Alexander.” She stood, offering a hand, which he grabbed, letting her pull him back onto his feet.

They shared a nod, a resolve, and continued on. No one else in the crew spoke as they walked back to the monquistan giving the trials. The pair of Monquistans at the gate simply looked at Alexander and opened the gate, not even having to speak a word. The gate, a simple construction of reeds and long grass, whistled faintly as it opened, an ominous, low tone.

Fan, Jack Russel, and Subodai rested at the foot of the stairs, following Alexander’s earlier laid plans. A four person battle, just Alexander, Sarah, Bonnie Anne, and Ratbeard.

The gold of the temple’s head shone in the sunlight, clean and resplendent against dirtied, carved stone. Vines played at being tripwires, cracked steps and damp moss added to the hazards as they climbed ever upwards, stopping only once they reached the top, staring deep into the shadowed entrance, shielded now from the hot jungle sun.

It was no wonder this island drove these men mad, Alexander thought.

The jungle breathed humidity into your lungs as if you had just been saved from drowning. The bugs chittered and watched for weakness like vultures. The flowers were sickly sweet with death, be it a poison of touch, fragrance, or taste. The indigenous to this land were rightfully angry, knowing the island better than any conquistador. The Isle of Doom was a frightful place, it stared at you from every shadow and when it struck it was with an inhuman intelligence.

Alexander led the way into Gortez’ home, hands at his hips, fingers twitching with the urge to clutch his blades like a child would a teddy bear.

The dim lighting was annoying, and made it harder to get a proper layout of the large chamber. Alexander squinted and adjusted his tricorne hat, his gaze caught by the large figure in the room. The Gorilla was draped in pieces of Monquistan finery and armor, as well as painted with abstract yellow lines in his dark fur.

“Gortez, I take it?” Alexander called out, only to be ignored. That sent a sharp blade of anger through his mind, but he still smiled. After all, those who ignored Darling Alexander Dove one day learn to regret it.

“You’re here. Are you an assassin? No. I’ll tell you what you are. You’re an organ grinder, sent by circus clowns, to make me do a dance. I refuse.” Gortez’ deep timbre rumbled around the spacious room, from his roost atop a pedestal, lounging on a pile of treasure. The gorilla shifted, before speaking again.

“Those simpering fools at home, those tamed lapdogs- they’ve no right to judge me. They have no idea what I’ve found here. They’d refuse to see it. Look around you. The creatures that built these temples shattered mountains to raise their perfect pyramids. They drew gold down from the stars. They lived like Titans, and now they’re gone. But the trees remain. The jungle beat them- it will destroy us all, unless we become one with it.”

Gortez leaned forward, as if he were a mere inch away and not meters of distance, as well as a throne. His golden attire gleamed in the light, his form basking in the sun from the skylight above him. Already Alexander’s mind whirled with possibilities as Gortez continued his dramatics.

“The trees spoke to me and showed me the way. When I saw this place, shining gold burning like fire, I knew who I was. I found the Gold Monkey.” Gortez smiled now, tusklike teeth spreading his face unnaturally wide, unsettling, by how Bonnie Anne and Sarah both grumbled behind Alexander.

“The fools in Puerto Mico think the Gold Monkey is another priceless toy for them to steal. They are wrong- the Gold Monkey is me!” The wild man began to work himself up into a fervor, eyes shining with a feral intelligence, his smile ever widening. “They want to stop me- but they are too good to make the trip themselves. Cowards! I will send them an answer- your broken bones! Children!”

At his last, sharp bark of words, more small Monquistans came to attention, prepared for battle.

Alexander led his small crew to the front left corner as he moved away from the entrance, mind racing as the battle began a. He used a skill his trainer taught him, crossing his blades, readying himself to take a shot if it was intended for his allies. Sarah, as he always planned, cloaked herself in the shadows. Ratbeard moved forward, putting himself between the small group of Monquistans and the crew. Bonnie Anne loaded a round into her musket, growling faintly.

As Gortez watched on, like an Aquilan emperor of old at a gladiator game, Ratbeard yelled, swarmed by Gortez’ ‘children’.

“You bleedin’ coward! Gonna stay up on your throne?!” His gruff voice echoed, as well as a grunt of pain as he took another shot from the small crossbow carrying monkeys.

“The mechanisms-” Bonnie Anne started.

“-Like the troggie temple.” Alexander nodded, then cloaked himself in shadows, directing Sarah to the back left mechanism, Ratbeard to the one right of the door, and Bonnie Anne to the one in their starting corner, as he cloaked himself to sneak around the tall pedestal, to take the farthest carved totem.

Bonnie Anne backed up from the fray, taking a potshot at one of the small spearmen before using the butt of her Scaramanga to jolt the mechanism, making it spin and clunk.

Sarah Steele raced under the cover of her shadows, hugging the wall, and when she reached the mechanism she sheathed her swords for a moment, turning her back and pushing with her shoulder until she too heard a satisfying clunk.

Alexander took longer getting to his place, constantly turning to look at the others, to ensure their safety. However, he too got to his mechanism, and he kicked it viciously, only to turn around at yet another cry of pain from Ratbeard.

Ratbeard pushed through the small crowd of Monquistans, kicking and cursing them and slashing with his large sword, pulling no punches for the annoying buggers. His rough slash sent his own mechanism clunking into place, but as he turned to fight again, the gang of monkeys began to overwhelm him.

Alexander gestured Ratbeard towards him, frantically preparing a small healing spell, from his privateer-made amulet, stolen from the Maria Celestia, a ghost infested ship, months ago.

The mechanisms finally clicked and aligned, all of them revealing carved statues carrying reflective plates. The reflection sent beams of harsh sunlight towards Gortez, burning him with the intensity, causing him to finally move with the pain of it all.

Gortez himself jumped from his mighty throne, down to fight alongside his children. His large one-handed battleaxe sliced deadly arcs through the air, with all the grace of a prima ballerina. He was still trained from childhood to become a conqueror and murderer, and will never forget those lessons, paid in blood thousandfold. His massive, muscled body rippled with his rage as he pounded his chest, directing his rage towards those closest to him, the now gathered Sarah Steele and Bonnie Anne standing strong next to each other.

“I trained my warriors to set villages on fire, but the Bishops won’t let them throw bananas because it is unseemly!” Gortez roared, living to his reputation of a warrior poet once again.

As Gortez made yet another journey where the path would only be eased with the viscera of his enemies, Alexander tried to get within range of Ratbeard, to heal him. But he was far too late, and Ratbeard passed out at his feet, unconscious from multiple wounds, which turned the remaining children of Gortez’ anger to Alexander.

With a helpless shrug, Alexander hopped over a majority of the Monquistans, to their impotent rage. As he neared Gortez and his remaining crew members, he watched the gorilla fight back, and was astounded.

Gortez was a large man, but moved easily, slamming the flat side of his axe into Bonnie Anne’s chest, pushing her back, before turning to Sarah Steele, and slashing at her until she fell down, unconscious.</p>

<p>With a growl, Bonnie Anne shot Gortez point blank, the sparks of her musket blinding him, allowing Alexander to sneak behind him. As Gortez turned towards the new sound he swung, hitting Alexander and causing many of his golden buttons to go flying to the stone floor as the axe cleaved from side to side. In return, Alexander stabbed him in the belly, flipping off of the mountain of a man before stabbing him with both blades yet again, blood flying and painting his pink coat red as he raked downwards, fur and skin flying until he hit the floor again, and kicked off of the gorilla, leaving his monkey children to tend to him now that the battle was decidedly won.

Bonnie Anne supported Ratbeard on her shoulder, and Alexander helped Sarah Steele, with her much more lithe and lighter body. A musketeer used to carrying a mini cannon is much better suited to carrying Ratbeard, rather than Alexander’s much more acrobatic trained muscles.

Gortez stood near the entrance, woozy and leaning against it. “Do not take my children- just me. You only wish to bring me to justice, right?”

Alexander nodded, still scowling.

One of the feather adorned Monquistans approached him, his crossbow unstrung and on his back now.

“Let me join your crew, captain. I will prove helpful, and my loyalty is undying.”

“Let’s not hope so, we do have a witchdoctor in our numbers.” Bonnie Anne’s snout wrinkled with the thought of an undead monkey, and the smell accompanying that.

“You’re on the crew.” Alexander said curtly, Sarah Steele coming to, and slowly standing on her own at his side. “But, little man, if you ever betray my crew, I will make this jungle seem like a haven of mercy.”

The crazed Monquistan nodded, eyes reverent, still glazed with something, either a true malady of the mind, or a hallucinogenic substance, like Alexander privately hypothesized, to Bonnie Anne's never ending amusement.

“Welcome to the crew of the Darling Captain Alexander Dove, Monquistan.” Bonnie Anne said, smiling now. “You’re in for a wild ride.”

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