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Things are tense. Very tense. And Gibbs keeps eying the lifeboats. Thinking that soon he and the captain will have to use one.

Not that Gibbs is letting on about that fear. He's busy inspecting the ship in the early morning, hoping that maybe he can forestall the mutiny one day more.
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The sea is calm, and after a fairly busy day of keeping the Empress ship shape, Gibbs has taken a seat on an turned-out bucket, hoping to enjoy a bit of rum and maybe some tobacco. The breeze is light, and the sun is setting. Being a pirate is a good thing.
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The two weeks since Spoon's unexpected arrival passed quickly, from Gibbs' point of view. Each day, they would explore the town and open whatever doors they saw. Some of the locals noticed that Gibbs and his friend were doing this, but they assumed that the pirate had his reasons (or that Jack Sparrow did, and Gibbs was acting on his captain's orders).

As they traversed the town, Gibbs would regale Spoon with tales of his career, and of Tortuga. Most of them were clearly lies, and all of them were completely true. They would also stop at many of the pubs, where Gibbs ran into many old friends, and even had the chance to introduce Spoon to Giselle, with whom Gibbs had "an understanding."

But as the days passed, there was an undercurrent of sadness beneath Gibbs' rum-fueled geniality. Each old friend brought word of more pirates and whores and old salts sent to the gallows by what people were calling Beckett's Terror, or Beckett's Folly. While Tortuga was beyond his reach, far too many of her occasional residents were not. Thus was Gibbs toasting to the memories of lost pirates almost every stop along the way.

Today, as the sun set and as a half moon became visible high overhead, Gibbs sat on the docks, watching the ships and the sailors. "See that one? We raided it just after Jack took the Pearl back. Didn't have anything worth taking, though."
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Gibbs has led Spoon away from the docks, away from the shacks and lean-tos that make up the majority of the buildings near the ocean, and uphill towards larger houses. By most standards, these wouldn't qualify as mansions, but the Economy of Tortuga operates on a small scale.

"See that one, Spoon? That's the home of Emile Duvall, one of the few successful merchants on this lsland. And a friend of the French establishment, as you might expect from his name. Thus a man whose taste in clothes is quite refined. I think he might appreciate the sort of fabric you have to offer.

"Or he would, were he home."
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It had been two weeks since Captain Jack Sparrow, seeking adventure, fortune, and his ship, had once again left Tortuga behind. Two weeks during which Gibbs got used to being home again, without a captain or a ship or much in the way of coin. Not that he was entirely without means, having lifted a purse or two from the fearsome and loathsome pirates of France at the Brethren Court. But he knew he'd have to preserve what funds he had, since he wasn't likely to find much work as a pirate. Not after all that Beckett did to his fellow men of the sea. And not, he had to admit, with the world changing so fast.

So Gibbs was now quartered in the rather dingy (if pig-free) loft of a stable, alongside six other men. Being a sound sleeper, he wasn't too disturbed by their snoring and shuffling in the night, but morning still came as something of a relief, seeing as none had slit his throat and taken his boots.

He made his way to the docks, as he did every morning, and watched the comings and goings.
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The ship was theirs again. Back home in Tortuga. Everything was right in the world.

And Gibbs could sleep well for the first time in ages, aided only by a little rum.

Well, maybe more than a little.

Exit Post

Jul. 6th, 2007 07:05 am
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Jack is gone. The Pearl is gone. The sea has come forth where it can't be to claim them. And Gibbs steps inside the Bar, stunned and worried. He's lost his place, lost his ship, lost his way.

He pulls out his flask, ready to lose himself in something more pleasant than worry or despair. But he sees a door. A door where there's never been one. He puts his rum away.

Destiny cannot be denied. And without a further thought, he opens the door and steps through.

Later, perhaps, he will wonder if he should have left word for Belle or Wells or Rachel. Later, he might miss the Bar and the Scottish woods. Today, he cares not. The Bar is behind him, nearly forgotten.

On the other side of the door, there is a glimpse of a dimly lit cabin and the smell of the swamp. On the other side, a motley crew mourns Captain Jack Sparrow, even as it plans to back him back from Davey Jones' Locker. Gibbs smiles faintly as the door closes behind him.

[ooc: Gibbs now returns to canon, but will find his way back to the Bar in due time.]
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The Captain's quarters are set. The large desk has been cleared of Jack's personal goods. The rest of the room is neat and orderly, as it tends to be (much to Gibbs' constant surprise). Whatever chairs can be found belowdecks have been dragged up by the first mate, creating a cozy feel.

The desk and the larger chests are covered with oilcloth, which serve as crude tablecloths. The ship's hodgepodge of dishes, cups and silverware, plundered from many ports and ships, sit near a selection of traditional holiday treats, from ham to mincepie. At the center of the desk, there is a crystal decanter with a gold nameplate saying "Captain Jack Sparrow", filled with red wine, surrounded by matching glasses.

And there is a small, sparsely decorated tree in a corner near the hammock.

It's Christmas on the Black Pearl. Welcome.
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The longboat moves slowly upriver, burdened with more than the weight of its passengers.

All around them, standing waist-deep in the water and amidst the trees, the people of Tia Dalma's swamp have gathered to mark this passing. Each of them carries a candle whose flickering flame reflects from the surface of the water.

In the dimness, the marks of tears show brightly in the candlelight.

Even the natural sounds of the swamp are muted, this evening, buried beneath the low moaning chant that echoes eerily through the air. As the boat approaches, the mourners let it pass, and then draw together once more as they turn to watch its path. For Captain Jack Sparrow is gone...

That the Pearl is gone, okay, Josahmee Gibbs isn't happy about that. It really was the fastest ship he'd ever seen, or ever handled. It was never any wonder that Jack and Barbossa both coveted it so. But it was a ship, and by its very nature it was destined to go to Davy Jones' Locker (if not quite so literally).

But that wasn't how it was supposed to be for Cap’n Jack. Men like that, they find a way to outwit death and always with a smile and a flourish. Men like that come home from certain doom with treasure, with tales of love and glory and danger, sometimes even with a beautiful and strangely grateful damsel at his side.

It was a lot for Gibbs to absorb, and the surest way to do so would be to drink till he couldn’t tell Pintell from a rudder. He helps tie up the longboat, and heads into Tia’s strange shack…

[ooc: Based on material originally used in the PotC:DMC Milliways remix.]


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January 2010



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