Bellmaethorion (Bellma for short) walked aboard the Dutchman, eyeing the ships wood and craftsmanship. He saw Lee trying to do something and walked over to him. "'Ello, Lee. Anything I can do to help, or are you to stubborn to let anyone take credit besides you?" Bellma's deep voice said. He smiled.

_________________

<center>
"I think I'm adorable."
~Dean Winchester~
</center>

Will moved to brush the back of his hand over her cheek, an infinitely gentle caress that spoke more of his yearning for her over those years than words ever could. It was in these moments that he found himself almost afraid...afraid that in a moment it would disappear, dissolve into a nightmare of twilit darkening sky between the worlds of living and dead. "What did little William say?" he murmured finally, drawing her close to lean his head on her hair while reaching with one hand to trace the mark she'd last touched. "To learn his father was..."

He broke off. That his father was undead, captain of a mythical ship believes only a story but for a select few who knew the truth? That he was cursed to be captain as such for ten years - an eternity if his love was not faithful? Will was not sure he himself as a child would have believed it.

_________________

"I think he'd always known, to some degree," Elizabeth said at length. "I mean, certainly not the finer details of it all, but it was only so long before it became evident that most little boys didn't have an iron chest containing the still-beating heart of their father sitting on their mother's bedside table. He'd started asking questions around his seventh birthday, and so I told him. He seemed to think it a bit odd at first, but I know he believed me. He was always fiercely protective of your reptuation- something that seemed quite odd to those who didn't know of our relationship. I remember one time he actually came to blows with one of the older boys in town over the matter; I think he would have won, too, had I not pulled him away." She laughed softly and shook her head slightly, recalling the incident. It had actually been a rather serious occurence, one that had required that she sit William down and explain the gravity of their situation, and why no one could know who his father actually way. But Will didn't need to know that part of it. Not now, at least. "Promise me I won't lose you again," she murmured, leaning back against Will's chest and letting him support her, only half-aware that the words had even made it past her thoughts. "I don't think I could bear it twice."

(i think i am going to have to drop out because i am confused beyond reason, unless someone want's to catch me up! sorry)

_________________
<center>

[font=Times New Roman]
Hello, I'm Amoniel
[/font]</center>

(Well from what i see the only thing going on is Will and Liz meeting. Then there is the 'Earth Shaker' i do believe they are heading to Greece to steal the Oricle?)

_________________

"I promise," said Will. The undercurrent of passionate intensity in his voice was more reassuring, more of a promise than words could ever be. He didn't have to bend far to kiss the top of her head, embrace tightening for a moment before -

"Mama?"

The inquiring small voice, along with a slight creak of a door on its hinges, announced the arrival of little William. "Mama, mister - mister - he said he'd let me help him wind the anchor all the way in." He couldn't quite recall the name, and with a gesture indicated over his shoulder. "But Gran'pa said I should ask you."

He ventured into the cabin, hat securely on. The top button of his shirt was undone, possibly by accident...but more probably by design.

_________________

Elizabeth slowly, reluctantly extracted herself from Will's embrace and turned to face their son. They would have to arrange for some designated 'alone' time later, perhaps with Bootstrap's assistance. Stealing away simply could not last long in the presence of children, especially when the constant threat of young eyes entering unexpectedly prevented anything of great significance from occuring.

"Yes, you may," she replied with a slight smile. "Though I would prefer that your grandfather be present to supervise as well."
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Barbossa frowned down at the map spread out before him, feeling his irritation with the inanimate object growing. Three days, they'd been out at sea. Three days, he'd been trying to decipher the markings on this map. What had seemed like a relatively easy puzzle at first had long since proven to be otherwise. There was no pattern or logic to the symbols, and he could almost swear something changed every time he went to look at it. A plate of food sat further away on the table, untouched as Barbossa continued to compare the map to one of his own and make note of where certain symbols occured. He paused once to scratch Jack's head as the monkey jumped up on the table and chattered inquiringly, then went right back to scowling at the map. He was a firm believer in sticking to one's choices without regret or second thought, but he was beginning to wonder if leaving Jack Sparrow in Tortuga had, indeed, been the wisest course of action.

There was a slight commotion on deck. Rolling his eyes, Barbossa resumed his intent studying of the maps. Ordinarily he might have gone out to investigate the cause of the disturbance, but it was likely was only some minor conflict betwixt two members of the crew, and nothing to merit his own intervention. It wasn't until the door to his cabin unexpectedly slammed shut that he even bothered to look up from the map. What he saw only halfway surprised him.

"I'll like as not regret askin', Jack, but how is it exactly that ye came to be aboard my ship?"
__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Cap'n."

Bootstrap looked up abruptly, shaking off whatever musing had just been occupying his mind. "Aye?"

"Cap'n," Maccus repeated with a brief salute, "there's a ship fore an' larboard, seems t' be comin' about as though she means to hail us."

"Colours?"

"She ain't flyin' any, Cap'n."

Bootstrap quickly pulled out his spyglass and fixed it on the location Maccus had indicated. Sure enough, the distant ship was beginning to angle herself so that their paths would intersect, and...readying her cannons? "Mr. Adamson!"

Of all the remaining crewmen, Jim Adamson -also called Jimmy Legs- had been around the longest, though even he couldn't say precisely how long that was. Upon hearing his name, the sailor quickly ascended the steps to the quarterdeck. "Cap'n?"

"What d'ye make of that ship, Jim?"

Jim accepted the spyglass and studied the ship in question. "Earth Shaker," he declared at length. "I'd know 'er anywhere. Jones occasionally 'ad dealin's with 'er, some time ago."

"Friendly?" Bootstrap asked, though he already had a pretty good idea what the answer to that question was.

Jim's expression only confirmed it. "Shall I 'ave 'em on th' guns, then?"

"Bring 'er about, an' on the guns," Bootstrap agreed, "but hold fire until my signal. We let them deliver th' first blow."

Both men saluted, then quickly descended to relay the orders- plus or minus an oath or two. "On th' guns, maggots! Hold 'til given th' order! Penrod, get yer bleedin' a.rse to th' helm an' bring 'er a few degrees larboard!"

With an ease born of long familiarity Will crossed to the railing in two swift strides and swung himself into the rigging, already flicking open his spyglass. The Dutchman pitched and rolled atop the waves as she came about in order to get the cannons aligned, making it hard to quite see the ship or its crew in detail. Will squinted hard, frowning, and hooked an elbow through the ropes to steady himself. A split second of steadiness granted him little more than the sight of cannons being readied. Not one man of that crew did Will recognize.

He shut the spyglass and swung down again, taking the steps up to the quarterdeck in threes and coming up beside Elizabeth. "There'll be cannonfire," he said, omitting preamble. "We could use you on deck. But William should stay below."

The little boy in question was gravely observing the nearing ship over the railing with an air of hostility, and looked as though he would be distinctly disgruntled to be banished belowdeck. Will did not even entertain the thought of letting him stay - Elizabeth he could not relegate even if he had wanted to, but a rain of cannonfire was no place for their son.

_________________

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, only to be cut off by another approaching crewman.

"Cap- err...Will," the crewman said hastily, doffing his hat. "Cap'n says you an' th' family are t' go belowdecks. 'E don't want you lot out 'ere if there's t' be shots exchanged."

"That's absurd! There's no reason Will and I can't-"

"Cap'n's orders, missus," the man interrupted with a shrug that looked a lot more apologetic than his tone suggested. "Mortals an' all that."

The common sense of this was immediately apparent to Will, much as he would have preferred to remain abovedeck. Casting a glance up at his father at the helm, he nodded and sheathed the saber in his hand. He'd barely noticed drawing it. "I'll get William."

Noticing his wife's less than pleased expression, he added, We're not immortal, Elizabeth." Halfway down the stairs to find small William he added under his breath, "Not anymore."

He didn't miss it. Elizabeth and their son beat immortality hollow.

William was diligently aiding one of the powder monkeys (a lad who could have been ten or ten hundred under his coat of grime, so difficult was it to tell) in loading a cannon. He was getting rather dirty himself, though of course he minded not a whit. Will chanced to catch a glimpse out the gun port - that ship was growing close.

"We're to go belowdecks, lad - this crew can't die, they're more help in a battle than us." Catching the cannonball in his son's grimy hands, Will gave it into the grubby waiting paws of the powder monkey and went, son in tow, to find them a safe berth in which to wait out the clash.

_________________

Damon drew his pistol, checked it, then made sure both his knives were loose in their sheathes. A mixture of fear and excitement ran through him- even though he had been on the sea for years, this would be his first battle.

The ships drew nearer, and he watched Poseidon expectantly, waiting for orders.

First Mate Li happened to be busy at the helm, wheeling the ship around so that her starboard faced the enemy. The lot of the crewmembers were below decks on broadside, loading the cannons to all their explosive glory. What a warship the Earth Shaker was! His heart stilled in anticipation of experiencing her wrath.

Then he heard someone calling his name, and he instinctively whirled in full fury... milliseconds before a caustic insult would have landed him in the brig. He was no longer captain. He would have to remember that - for his own well being. In the short time that he'd known Poseidon - for it was indeed the august god who captained this ship - the deity had impressed him as an unrelenting soul, pretentious as the sea, tempestuous as the storm.

An embroilment with the god surely meant an embroilment with death - a losing one.

Thus it was that Heilong Li faithfully if grudgingly handed the helm over and descended the quarterdeck's steps. His stride was long, his demeanor imperious. He may not be captain, but that hardly meant sacrificing his dignity.

"What is it that you require of me, Captain Poseidon?" he grated, with a stiff bow.

-----

His marvelous captain's sudden departure caught Joshamee Gibbs flat-footed. He stared at the vacant spot for a while, before muttering something incoherent and hoisting himself up. He ventured hesitantly at first, peering both ways down the deck - Ah, mother's love.

Upon his first steps on the god-cursed deck of the familiar ship, he discovered two things. Firstly, sunlight hurt. Secondly, so did the cutlass poking him in the stomach.

He looked down and flashed an amiable smile at the not smiling Marty. "Why, 'ello there."

Within three seconds, he found himself surrounded by the rest of the crew. The amiable smile didn't seem to be working, but Gibbs kept it plastered on his face anyway. The only thing that hurt were his cheeks. "Why... 'ello there...?" His beseeching gaze slid from one crewmember to the next. Who would have guessed facial expressions could be so diverse? Frown, scowl, glare, smile. That would be Mr. Cotton's parrot - not wishful thinking, no sir. So what if parrots were incapable of that particular expression called smiling?

He cleared his throat and half-heartedly jerked a thumb at the captain's cabin. "Ah. I'm with Jack, I am."

_________________

Lee followed Bootstraps orders and ran belowdeck to the cannons, and loaded them, but he awaited for the signal to fire. He looked out of the gunhole for the cannon and he saw the ship that they were up against - The Earth Stalker -, he believed the first mate called it. Lee looked around the rest of the crew members, and sadly, they all looked as eager as he did for some action, any action, of some sort. He sighed and listened intently for the commands.

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Lee was getting excited, and ready to do something. He waited for orders, still, but he wanted to be above deck and see the action up there. He sighed and was yelled at by his fellows to be quiet so they could hear. He glared at them and contiuned to look out the port hole to keep an eye on The Earth Stalker.

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

An audience with the captain? Poseidon had never struck him as a diplomat, but perhaps he had more gumption than Li had anticipated. He offered a curt nod of acquiescence and bounded back onto the quarterdeck. "Bring her around," he instructed the helmsman, a brute of a man but skilled in navigation.

As the Dutchman drew nearer, he shaded his eyes against the glaring sun and squinted onto the deck of the enemy ship. What he saw impressed him not. The Dutchman itself was a force to be reckoned with, certainly, but the sight of her captain deflated that hallmark. The Dutchman's captain looked old and soft, though appearances could be deceiving. He was obviously a man of the sea, and that alone deserved some iota of respect.

Li patted the unique deer horn knives at his belt - an act that reminded him of all the foes he'd conquered in his long career. Sedate, he drew himself tall and called out in lightly accented English, "Hear me, captain of the Flying Dutchman! My captain of the Earth Shaker respectfully requests an audience!"

_________________