PGDO: Pirates!

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 3 – Spindrift]

> The Pussycats, however, were simply transported. They were excellent
> performers themselves, and routinely played to large audiences. Large
> *Forest People* audiences, with more recent performances in and around
> the settlers, and most recently out on the Kirith River Plains. But
> nothing they had ever done compared with the size of a high energy
> Spindrift evening show, placed on a thrust proscenium stage playing to
> a full house. All three were staring in rapt wonder at the sight as
> the sound transported them into musical bliss. Now, perhaps Val’s eyes
> were more often fixed on the wonders of what modern and well funded
> Stage Magic might provide rather than on the performers, but all three
> Pussycats were well and truly captivated.

Only when the travellers had allowed the flow of the exiting crowd to
guide them back outside did Josie finally manage to speak. “Wow,’ she
gasped.

“You said it, girlfriend,” Val confirmed.

“Yeah, me too,” Mel agreed. “When can *we* play in a place like that?”

“We’ll see,” Tramma replied hopefully. “But in the meantime, I’ve got in
mind something I know *I’d* like to do after seeing a show like that.”

Josie snorted in amusement. “You’re *always* after that, Songbird.”

“And you aren’t?” Val asked archly.

Rather than prickling at the challenge, Josie grinned. “Ya got me
there.” Shooting Finfin a sideling glance, she added, “Particularly
tonight.”

“I hear ya, girlfriend,” Val answered with a nod. “But first, Songbird,
you had something *else* in mind?”

“Yup,” their silver haired guide agreed. “C’mon, there’s a show starting
down the street in a bit I think you’ll wanna see, and we’ve just got
time to scoot back to the Imperial Suite and get changed back into our
schoolgirl gear.”

“That’s important for this show?” Mel asked curiously.

“Well, not for the *next* show,” Tramma allowed. “But I’ve got something
arranged later a bit further down the Row. It’s not a *bad* area, but
this fine evening wear would look a bit out of place.”

Finfin nodded, silently agreeing with the wisdom of Tramma’s suggestion.
He was a stranger to Spindrift, but not to cities in general. He well
understood that despite any overwhelming force he might be able to bring
to bear against those who wished them ill, the best outcome for any
civilian confrontation was to avoid it altogether. So it would be
prudent to not look out of place and attract trouble.

Some minutes later, the Pussycats and Pals were back out on the street
of Casino Row. The ladies were once again in their “Tellic Schoolgirl”
outfits, and Finfin was back in his usual field grays.

“C’mom, folks!” Tramma urged. “We’ve just got time to make it to the
Pirate’s Cove.”

After a few minutes hustling down the Row, the travellers had clearly
reached their destination. Just as Ragnir’s was decorated in a distinct
mock kyrene theme and the Casino Royale in a uniform motif of gleaming
crystal and silver, the Pirate’s Cove Casino and Hotel was decorated in
an obvious nautical theme. The entire complex had been built to resemble
a connected collection of vaguely ship shaped buildings, with lush
tropical gardens interspersed within. An ornately decorated long wooden
house with a steeply pitched roof held the central reception, and a
towering mock volcano dominated the background.

However, the guests’ business just now was in front of the hotel, and
not within. A large lagoon separated the hotel from Casino Row, and
dominating the waterway were a pair of almost genuine looking sailing
craft. Stage Magic “lightning trees” that had Val drooling with envy
flooded the lagoon with multihued light, and a crowd was even now
gathering in front of the railing separating the Row from the water.

The lights in the lagoon dimmed, even while the lights on one of the
ships swelled, and the crowd fell silent. A swelling (and obviously
magically produced) orchestral theme echoed over the lagoon. After a
heartbeat, a spotlight focused on the top of the lit ship’s mainmast,
following the progress of a singular flag being run up the foremast. A
black flag with a skull and crossbones, though with the traditional
toothy grin replaced by a silly smile, and the traditional sightless
eyesockets now adorned with googly eyes. Spindrift was, first and
foremost, a naval town, and nearly everyone either was or knew someone
who served in one of the maritime services. Nobody would have
appreciated a genuine “Jolly Roger”, even in an obvious show – but all
could laugh and jeer at this obvious self-mocking caricature of the
traditional pirate’s pennant.

To add to the show, the cast of “pirates” appeared, swarming about the
boat in frantic activity that had the genuine sailors laughing at their
slapstick antics, all accompanied by now manic music. Mainsails were
hoisted, jibs were scuttled, and various other faux nautical manoeuvres
fumbled, each usually mananaging to sweep an individual “pirate” or two
overboard to the applause of the audience. Predictably, a brawl erupted
on the decks of the “pirate” vessel, with one bearded man complete with
false hook and equally false parrot up on the poop deck bellowing in
vain for his crew to come to order.

From their vantage point near the water’s edge, Finfin could appreciate
the stagecraft of the performers, particularly as they energetically
swung their cutlasses at each other. The elf could see the utility of a
shorter cutting blade like a cutlass in the close confines of shipboard
combat. Just as he could recognize the artistry of the performers. They
were swinging at each other at nearly full strength in what the elven
warrior could recognize as a carefully choreographed predictable manner.
And the swords were banging together in a quite convincing chorus of
clashing metal.

Not that the actors were actually trying to kill or maim each other, of
course. Finfin could recognize that each combatant was carefully
matching his opponent’s well telegraphed cuts in a mirror like
opposition that would have been entirely pointless in a “real” battle,
but quite suitable for the current event. Each actor was limiting
himself to a pair of cuts, and the elf could almost imagine a drill
instructor calling out the cadence.

“One!” the unheard voice echoed in Finfin’s mind, and each actor slashed
down from on high and “outside”, or the right, predictably meeting his
opponent’s matching move in a harmless clash in the middle. “Two!” the
unheard drillmaster would next shout, and as expected, the two opponents
unleashed mirrored cuts at each other, this time from high and “inside”,
or the left, once again noisily but harmlessly clashing in the middle.
Only to flip back to Cut One, followed by Cut Two, repeating again and
again.

Finally, the faux pirate captain caught his squabbling crew’s attention
with another bellow, this time enhanced by a new spotlight highlighting
him as he menaced a helpless lady in a nightshirt. This demonstration,
as expected, captured his manky crew’s attention, as they dropped their
squabble to watch their dreaded captain’s antics. What the captain had
in mind was no mystery; he had a cutlass of his own, and he was prodding
the “helpless damsel” along a stout wooden plank over the waters below.

At the plank’s edge, the damsel paused, her knees shaking in well
simulated panic. All of the pirates jeered, while the Pirate Captain
exchanged his cutlass for a long hooked gaff, clearly ready to propel
his victim into her last step.

Helplessly the damsel called out for aid, and the music lulled to an
ominous thrum. Until, perhaps predictably, in a new swell of martial
music, the lights rose on the *other* ship, now staffed with sailors as
they proudly hoisted the Imperial Dolphin naval standard. This turnabout
was met with a roar of applause from the audience, though howls of
dismay from the “pirates”.

The two ships approached, and a small troupe of well trained actors –
and possibly acrobats – swung from the Imperial to the pirate vessel,
landing on the pirate deck in a perfectly positioned cordon to protect
the hapless damsel. The pirate captain retreated back to his poop deck,
hotly pursued by one of the boarding “Imperials” with a touch of gold
braid on his shoulders, even as more and more Imperials both swung and
swarmed aboard the hapless pirate ship.

All about the craft, everyone was now engaged in a raucous “One! Two!”
repeating exchange of cutlass cuts with an opponent. Except for the
Imperial officer and the pirate captain, inexplicably left to themselves
in a spotlight up on the pirate craft’s poop deck. These two were, like
the rest, going at it “hammer and tongs”, the pirate once again armed
with his cutlass. However, unlike the “extras” swarming about the ship,
these two clearly had some more experience with their blades. They were
not simply standing still exchanging useless matching cuts at each
other. Both were in a genuine sabre fencer’s stance, lunging, falling
back, and recovering as they launched *real* cuts from actual sabre guards.

After a moment, Finfin found himself laughing, even as a handful of
obviously more experienced audience members were also tickled at the
display. Finfin – and clearly some others – recognized the sequence. And
why not? Just the other day the elf had seen Keeryte Initiate Uta
drilling the Cat Mob warriors in just this relatively simple drill with
their newly earned heavy sabres. Each would attack and the other would
defend with a *proper* guard that would both displace the attack and set
the defender up to switch to the offence. And back again, running
through each of the standard cuts and corresponding guards in a measured
cadence. Anyone who had spent any time at all in the Numenorean service
would have recognized this “standard” military sabre and cutlass drill,
often practised in large groups under a senior NCO’s watchful eye.

At a prearranged moment, however, the pirate captain’s cutlass flew from
his hand, leaving him helpless before the victorious Imperial officer.
No quarter had been asked for, so none was given, and at cutlass-point
it was now the pirate captain’s turn to be prodded over the railing’s
edge, where a circle of shark’s fins had conveniently appeared. The more
experienced wizards could recognize the fins as a simple illusion (or
possibly a more advanced *programmed* illusion?), but the bulk of the
audience either did not notice or did not care, and cheered lustily.
With a fine tumble that at the last moment turned into a perfect dive,
the “pirate” plunged into the water below, never to be seen again –
until the curtain call.

The audience applauded loudly, and cheered energetically as the faux
“Jolly Roger” was lowered, and a new Dolphin Banner was raised over the
now captured pirate ship. The applause continued as the crews, Imperial
and Pirate alike, took their bows, and redoubled as the spotlight fell
upon the brave Imperial Officer – and the inexplicably still alive but
now very wet pirate captain. The music swelled into the patriotic
Numenorean Imperial Anthem, and the audience once again cheered and cheered.

And then the show was over, the brighter lights fading, and the more
evenly distributed “house lights” around the lagoon returning.