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07:58 PM

The German native, Alona Zörn, scowled as she walked the deck of the ship, her right hand gently enveloping the sword at her side, her finger tips running over its detailed engravings. The sword had been Davy Jones's, her best friend grand father whose son took her in at a young age. Her companion, Philip, had gotten another one of his swords, both of them possessing the only swords and few remnants of Davy Jones that were left.

Her large hazel eyes popping open, the golden brown haired female pirate turned on her heel as she felt a greasy hand smack her butt. A tattooed, self satisfied man grinned in her triumph, other members of the crew patting him on the back. They thought she was just a cook, or something of the sort, but the instant her glare befell them they stopped laughing.

With two long strides she was upon the man, kneeing him in the groin and pushing him against the edge of the ship. In a flash her sword was against his neck, scratching the dirty skin. "Lay another paw on me and it'll be the last thing you do," she threatened, her soprano voice in a vicious tone. With her free hand she grabbed his wrist, the one belonging to the hand he smacked her butt with. Lowering her sword, she quickly sliced off his pointer finger, watching him scream with a fierce, impassive glower. "Next time it'll be all of 'em, ye hear?" She demanded, raising an eyebrow. "That's the first mate," she heard a voice whisper as she began to walk away. "Her?!" Came the bewildered response of the man she had just mutilated.

A sly smirk played over the twenty year old's face as her knee high boots clicked on the deck. A loose buckle adorned each of them, slightly jingling as she walked. She wore the average, loose but purple pirate trousers that when the wind blew them the right way framed her athletic, lean and long legs. She also wore a loose top, billowy and without any unnecessary frills, as well as flashy red corset. over top the billowy shirt.

Noting the stares but not paying any mind to them as she walked, Alona wiped the blood off of her sword onto her trousers, admiring the dangerous flare the blood added to them. Glancing up, she eyed the captain. They had known each other for a while, she had helped him plan the voyage as well as kidnapping the girl. Hoisting herself onto one of the netted ropes, she climbed until she was hanging on the ropes, her toned legs and arms supporting her, level with the Poop Deck and Marquet.

"I swear Marquet, some of these men will be dead by mine own hands if they continue their behavior," she said, being one of the few people allowed to call him by his name and not by his title of Captain. Her words were a soft velvet, a small smile pulling up her pink lips as the wind rushed around her.

Philip Swenton calmly and bemusedly watched the interaction between Alona and the grungy male crew member who had made the wrong move of touching her. Chuckling, he jumped off of the edge of the Poop Deck which he he had been standing on, landing with a thud on the main deck. With strong arms he pulled the anchor up, feeling the ship shift as it was freed from its spot on the harbor.

Nodding his head to Alona, he glanced up at their captain. Taking heed of his request to check on the prisoner he yelled a hearty "Aye, Captain!", as he went below the deck and into the body of the ship. Glancing around to make note there were no other lazy pirates lounging about, he took the steps two at a time.

"'Twould be a good idea to eat, me lady," he said to Blackbeard's great relative, nodding at the food piling up in the corner of her cell as he stepped out of the shadows. The young pirate had a habit of disappearing and appearing out of shadows, often giving his fellow ship mates or acquaintances a slight scare.

Pulling a large barrel over so that it was situated in front of the cell, the dirty blond haired pirate swung his legs over and sat atop of it. Peering at her with bright turquoise eyes, Philip offered her a minute grin, crossing his arms over his chest, the billowy shirt accenting his toned chest. His equally loose, dark crimson trousers clothed his legs. All in all he stood 6 foot 4, a force to be reckoned with on any occasion. He watched as another ship mate, one of the few other females. "Come to check on her too," he said, offering her a smile as well.