Anarchy. Chaos. Pandemonium. All of these words would describe Hargreaves Gracchus Knox’s ideal work environment. Wet. Soggy. Drenched. Another three words to describe an entirely different state of affairs. When the guns had first gone off Hargreaves had been tending to The Silver Swan and it’s crew, ensuring it stayed afloat internally and that the beleaguered vessel had the right motions being made. But, amidst the initial panic and confusion a crewman monkeying powder to the lower decks had fallen from the impact of those great big lead balls- right onto Knox. Knox was quick, but not quick enough to predict something as small as a stumble in all this powder and piss. So our saltless salty sailor master went tumbling over the edge.
After some time, he dragged himself up and over the deck of the ship. Gun in mouth, and powder dry. He heaved his wet jacket over the rail and rolled over onto the wooden deck. He sat on his knees and spluttered, wiping the salt water off his chin with a forearm. Finally gathering himself he stood, taking stock. “Which one of ye fuckn primates bumped int-” He had little time to even begin his lengthy tirade into mothers and monkeys and how they relate to the crew, as his instincts commanded he duck forward from the waist. Lucky he did too, as he felt a few hairs taken by the swing of a narrowly missed cutlass stroke.
Without thinking, he swung his torso from the 90 degree bowing position he was in; all the way to his back being parallel to the floor, catching a cutlass stroke with his hooked dagger. The assailant could be heard to mutter a choice ‘What the fuck’ as Knox had caught a sword swing he hadn’t been looking at, while literally bent backwards. The quartermaster now had a good look at the man he was being assaulted by. For a few moments, Knox simply stared while in this position. Making eye contact with a man, Hargreaves began to realize, was not of The Silver Swan’s crew. In those moments, the world seemed to rush back in like a high tide. Screams reached Knox’s ears, the scent of blood and powder and even more piss caused a nasal twitch. Breaking eye contact with the brute he held in place, who was now dedicating all attention to Knox, Hargreaves straightened himself and very casually crunched the much taller man’s throat with a punch whilst looking around.
The strike was crude, but precise. The cutlass held by a knife was suddenly freed, and blood suddenly freed from this man’s crushed windpipe with a practiced swipe of Knox’s blade. A cruel shove of a boot sent this foreign pirate crumbling to his knees and then to his back on an already blood soaked deck.
Knox found himself surrounded by madness, clanging swords, and all manners of yarr harr. While standing there he squinted at the nonsense he’d stumbled into, looking left and right. Another unnaturally burly mook ran at him, screaming something that kinda sounded like “DIEEEEE ARGGHHH.” This one lobbed an overhand strike with a crude iron arming sword, to which knox inclined a shoulder and fireman’s carry tossed the man over it. Hooking the sword arm while he careened over Knox’s head, he snapped it and stomped on his head with a crunch. All this done without looking, he threw the now limp arm to the floor. Hands on hips, now having gathered exactly what was going on Knox displayed his understanding with a simple “Hmph, Well….ah’ certainly missed some shit.” His voice, as ever, that near brougeish and slightly scottish pirate cante. A deep and murky voice coming from something so wiry and lean, “So what ship am ah’ oan’?”
Finally he just grimaced and attempted to grab the nearest goon, only to grab something that was recently bereaved of its better half by a cannonball. Which, speaking of, a whole volley of whizzed by and around him. The pandemonium seemed to worsen around Knox, but somehow he stayed isolated from it all. A perfect little bubble on influence where he was immune, subtle but there. Friendly fire on the enemy side increased, and confusion quickened. Just as he was about to make another move, he spotted a beacon of hope and murder. A figure, dark and majestic. Surrounded by blood and fire and guts and rather sexy, Knox started heading towards it. Whether to fight it or fuck it, he knew not. But by Gaia, he was gonna get there. That was a lot of violence.
The havoc increased exponentially as he started butchering his way towards the thing of interest, which unbeknownst to him was his very own captain. A punch in the the kidney, knife in the bent over chest. Leg sweep the goon swinging a broadsword at Knox’s chest, stab him in his back as he falls. A lead bullet skims past the privateers face, drawing blood. In that same instant Knox crouches and spins pulling his massive bore flint pistol from his coat and pulling it to bear with a click. BOOM A shot that rung like cannonfire burrowed through four different pirate skulls, then his target, through the forecastle deck and kept going. Knox’s arm well above his head from the recoil and in quite a lot of pain from the force. It drooped, and he discovered that everyone around him had stopped momentarily to either cup their ears or to stare at the laser straight line of destruction. Knox smirked, “Ahhhh cmon now, ah’ expect a few smiles!” He proclaims as he takes a big bloody smile and continues his path to the black mass of death. Hargreaves loads another full bore shot into his hand cannon, The Boar. BOOM!! Another massive blast of powder in the after burn and another straight line of death.
This time however this was headed straight towards the black thing that was surrounded by death. Seven heads falling in a row, and it continued right through the upper half of whoever Fiora was combating. A fine red spray would explode from his torso as the severed and spine twitching body collapsed, surely covering Fiora in some of the affair. Knox stabbed another man without thinking, closer to Fiora now. “Smile me grogs!’ He roared, “Ah’m rolling out the RED GODDAMN CARPET!” The rest of whatever he’d say was lost in roars of rage as he began to be swarmed by other men, and hearty laughter could be heard from within the turmoil. Knox was maybe 20-30 feet from Fiora, on the wrong ship, heading towards the Silver Swan from within the enemy ship.
Just to clarify.
Oh and he didn't seem to know where he was