Chapter Text
If you were to ask anyone from Runeterra what they thought Bilgewater was like, they’d probably tell you it was some sort of wretched hive. A place where only the worst of the worst would call home, where morals went to die and only the most unscrupulous souls came out unscathed.
Anyone who actually lived in Bilgewater would tell you they were absolutely correct, though they would add the smell to the list.
Walking anywhere in Bilgewater was bound to give you a nose full of smells that permeate the city. The blackpowder and gunsmoke that filled the air was so thick and constant it was assumed to be normal. The smell of fish and other saltwater would always hit you if you wandered near the pier, and close to that the smell of alcohol, piss and vomit that always lingered near the bars on the dock. But there was one smell that could be found everywhere in Bilgewater, whether you were out on the sea seeking fortune, or skulking around the alleys trying to make a fast securi.
That was the scent of blood.
Beneath all the blackpowder and gunsmoke was the bloody bullet it had lodged in a man’s chest. Look past the scent of fish and saltwater and you would find the smell of those who were ripped apart by the creatures that lurked underneath or were killed by the creatures above then sunk to the bottom. If you looked inside the taverns and bars, you’d find the scent of blood tainting the air after a bar brawl that got too out of hand. The scent of blood hung over everything in the port city, but no place was the stench more known than around the captains. And nowhere was the smell more concentrated than at a Captain’s Requiem.
A Captain’s Requiem was meant to be a wake for a captain who had been a practical legend in their life. Someone who had either accomplished a legendary feat, or lived so long everyone knew their name. Then again, living long as a pirate was a legendary feat in and of itself. In the end though, it was meant to be a final hurrah before their trip down to the waiting arms of the Bearded Lady. What actually happened most of the time was the captains getting drunk off of rum and eyeing each other up like sharks.
Captain Sarah Fortune would know, she was at another one.
It had been some time since the last Requiem when another one had been called to honor the death of one of the longest-lived seamen in the history of Bilgewater, Captain Yurnam. This time they had everyone checked so there wouldn’t be another Aligh situation. Still, people were on edge, and she couldn’t blame them. The last time they had done this it had ended with most of them dead, and the ones who survived were left on the brink. They had even seen that cursed tallyman Nautilus who dragged Aligh to his final resting spot.
So yeah, not the best wake ever.
Even so, they had to pay their dues. Every captain who had survived and was still alive after all that time had come to give respect to the man who had survived the seas for so many years. Nearly every big name captain was here to pay respects to the man, some hoping to take his crew and others chasing the wealth he claimed to have stored over the years. Some of the faces were new, young captains hoping to get a foothold by spreading their name or forming bonds with stronger crews.
“A real who’s who tonight, aye Rafen?” said Sarah, gazing over the deck.
“I’d say so. Just about every captain’s come to get a look at the so-called “treasure” he stashed away.” Rafen replied, watching for any peculiar activity among the guests. Both of their eyes landed on someone they had thought gone.
“Blaxton,” Sarah questioned as she approached. “I heard you were dead?”
Blaxton gave a hearty laugh, her chest heaving up and down with each howl. “I told you already, rumors of my death are constantly flying through Bilgewater-” she grabbed a mug of rum and gulped it down. “But unless you find yourself at one of these. Just assume I’m still kicking.” she added a wink at her last word.
The woman looked almost the same as she had during the last Requiem, the only difference being a new scar adorning the side of her head. Likely gotten from a shootout with another crew.
Blaxton looked up from her drink and directly into Sarah’s eyes.
“So, I heard you put a hole between Thorne’s eyes,” she said, her voice still light from the alcohol. “Should I be worried about shots flying my way next?”
Sarah fixed her gaze with a hard stare, “I made him an offer, and he refused in an… enthusiastic manner. I just did what needed to be done.”
“Careful, you’re sounding almost like Gangplank.”
“Like I said last time, It’s still a work in progress.”
Blaxton nodded, “It’s not easy getting rid of his influence. His ways are brutal, sure, but you can’t deny how effective they were. One shot to the gut and he got your loyalty.”
Rafen chimed in, coming back after getting drinks for them, “Probably won’t foster much trust in a crew though if every member has lead in their guts.”
Sarah chuckled a bit and took a mug, “Alright, alright. Let’s keep this Requiem away from talks of dead men other than the one going down tonight.” She raised her mug in a cheer, “A toast for old man Yurnam. May that salty codger enjoy his rest with the Bearded Lady.” The others joined her toast and began to down their drinks, but Sarah noticed something.
“Hey Rafen. I hate to say, but the mug is a bit light tonight.” She had downed the entire thing in a single gulp and Blaxton was no different.
“Yeah, what gives? Hope you ain’t keeping the rest for yourself.” Blaxton laughed and gave him a light elbow.
Rafen rubbed the back of head, “Sorry captain, they’re bringing up another barrel, but these drops were all I could squeeze out of the last one.” He pointed to the table, “Some captain’s been drinking all the ale before anyone else could get any.”
Turning their attention to the table they saw a man sitting nearby. He was dressed in a long black open coat that showed off a scar that divided his chest and a red sash that held the coat together. His legs were covered in black pants and black boots that looked like they had just weathered a long battle. His hair was shaggy and green like sea moss, and over one eye was a long scar.
The man was in what appeared to be a deep sleep, and she couldn’t fault him for it. He was surrounded by dozens of mugs that must have been filled to the brim with rum.
Sarah turned to Blaxton, “You know who he is?”
Blaxton shakes her head, “Ain’t ever seen him before. Must be a pretty new captain.”
Sarah looked the man over one more time. At her first cursory glance of the man, she had somehow not noticed how muscular the man was. His chest was almost barrel-like and his hands, relaxed as they were, still held muscle definition.
“I’m gonna go talk to him.” said Sarah, standing straighter as she walked towards the man.
Rafen raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure captain? He may be sleeping now, but he don’t seem like the friendly sort.”
She waved off his concern with a casual shrug. “Maybe he’s not, but we all gotta follow the code tonight. Plus, aren’t we supposed to be socializing at these things? I’d hate to leave without speaking to the new guy.” She began to walk over to him, Rafen following behind her as loyal as ever.
When they reached him, she picked up one of the many mugs and threw it down against the floorboards. That seemed to be enough to shock the man out of his sleep.
He let out a yawn and stretched his arms over his head, “Who woke me up? I was having the best dream." said the man, his deep voice still groggy.
Sarah put on her best smile, “Good morning my good man. I saw you over here and thought it would be a good time to come chat. That is-” she looked at all the mugs around him, “If you’re still able to.”
He waved the comment off, “Eh, a swordsman doesn’t get drunk. We gotta be constantly as sharp as our blades.” she gave a practiced laugh taking it as a simple showing of male bravado.
“So, skilled with a sword are you? Most people around here tend to stick to guns over sharp steel.”
He stared directly at her, though it felt like he was staring through her to be honest. “The sword’s always been my preferred method. Sure, you could shoot a man dead pretty easily, but a blade has a finesse that I always believed a gun lacked.”
She gave a shrug as she leaned up against the mast. “Well to each his own, I guess. By the way I don’t think I’ve introduced myself tonight,” she stuck her hand out for a shake. “Sarah Fortune, captain of the Syrens. This silent statue of a man is Rafen my second-in-command.” Rafen tipped his head.
The man responded with a handshake of his own, his hands firm. “Roronoa Zoro, right-hand of the Straw Hat Pirates.” Sarah’s eyes widened at the revelation.
“Right-hand? I’d assumed you were a captain considering the fact that you’re at one of these things by yourself. Is your captain here?” Roronoa looked up, an odd look in his eyes.
“Nah, we got caught up in a pretty bad storm a while back and the crew got separated. I learned that this thing was going on so I thought he might be here, but no such luck. At least the booze are decent though.”
Sarah gained a sorrowful look in her eyes. The storms in these waters could get dangerous and if his captain got thrown overboard chances were he belonged to the Bearded Lady by now.
“I’m sorry, but if your Captain got thrown overboard here, he’s probably already at the bottom of the sea by now.” Rafen put a hand on his shoulder in a vague attempt at comfort. Though Roronoa didn’t seem put off by the news, instead he smirked and gave a light chuckle.
“Hehe, nah there’s no way a storm like that could’ve killed him. We’ve all survived way worse than getting tossed around in a storm.” His eyes gleamed with a confidence that she had only seen in the most devoted of sailors, and she had to say the smile on his face was a touch infectious.
“Well, your confidence is admirable. Though if your captain does wind up alive we should meet up sometime. If you’ve survived worse than a Bilgewater storm I can’t wait to hear a story from you,” a few crewmates brought up another barrel and a few more mugs for the party and Rafen poured out a few mugs. “Until then, let's have a toast to your captain’s safety.” They clinked their mugs together and took a drink. Here’s to that Straw Hat captain, wherever he is.
Soldiers pounded along the harsh Steppes of Noxus, marching down towards the distress signal and being led by the hand of Noxus itself. An entire camp had reported being completely wiped out of food supplies, and when they went to go check on the problem, they had gone completely silent. Naturally, Noxus grew suspicious and decided to crush this before it truly became an issue, so they sent a small platoon along with Darius to find out what had been happening. When they arrived, it was nothing they expected. There were three people sitting in the camp, one of them a blonde with stubble wearing a full suit, in Noxian weather, and cooking up a meal out of a beast he appeared to have killed. The next was a woman in a white button up and shorts with raven hair and glasses, who was currently reading a Noxian supply book. Finally, there was a man sitting directly in front of where the blonde was cooking with a red vest and blue shorts with a yellow sash along with a straw hat atop his head. He was the first to notice them and asked:
“Hey! Do you wanna come eat too?"