Entry tags:
ain't no party like a ranger party [open]
Who| Thorongil and anyone!
What| That great big open party log I promised! Thorongil is taking a different approach to this Arena, and that approach involves giving people free food.
Where| Around the arena -- generally in the forest area.
When| Late week 1, post-Bilbo and Sam )':
Warnings/Notes| Feel free to respond using the log prompt itself, but if you have another idea, feel free to throw it at me in a toplevel! Thorongil will be wandering around the Arena hunting for food, so he could stumble on conceivably anything. Ragnar, Anna, I'm looking at you two especially.
For many of you, this Arena will be one of the most traumatic things you've ever experienced.
For Thorongil, it's Tuesday.
Most nights, he camps with a fire. Reckless? Perhaps, if he were trying to win the Arena.
But that's not Thorongil's goal.
He hunts during the day and cooks what he catches at night: if the firelight doesn't draw in other Tributes, the smell will. It's been a few days. They're probably starting to get hungry.
Approach in the open, and he will greet you with a nod of his head. Try to sneak up on him, and he will hear you. "You'd better come out into the light," he will say, putting a hand on the long, sharp spear he's made for himself. "I know you're there."
What| That great big open party log I promised! Thorongil is taking a different approach to this Arena, and that approach involves giving people free food.
Where| Around the arena -- generally in the forest area.
When| Late week 1, post-Bilbo and Sam )':
Warnings/Notes| Feel free to respond using the log prompt itself, but if you have another idea, feel free to throw it at me in a toplevel! Thorongil will be wandering around the Arena hunting for food, so he could stumble on conceivably anything. Ragnar, Anna, I'm looking at you two especially.
For many of you, this Arena will be one of the most traumatic things you've ever experienced.
For Thorongil, it's Tuesday.
Most nights, he camps with a fire. Reckless? Perhaps, if he were trying to win the Arena.
But that's not Thorongil's goal.
He hunts during the day and cooks what he catches at night: if the firelight doesn't draw in other Tributes, the smell will. It's been a few days. They're probably starting to get hungry.
Approach in the open, and he will greet you with a nod of his head. Try to sneak up on him, and he will hear you. "You'd better come out into the light," he will say, putting a hand on the long, sharp spear he's made for himself. "I know you're there."
<3 you're totally fine!
It wouldn't be wildly out of the question for the other man to get that impression of him. Most people in this place could sense it from a mile off, and the pirate did next to nothing to correct it.
Even if his Capitol team hadn't managed to 'clean him up' prior to the Arena -- whatever good that'd done, now that he was back to being dirty and covered in mud from running around -- the manner in which the pirate conducts himself around people makes it pretty easy to assume that whatever sea vessel he'd captained back home had, at best, lax standards.
"Thorongil." He tries out the odd name, and furrows his brow. "Interesting name, that. Can't say I've ever heard it before." His gaze lands and lingers briefly back on the delicious-looking goose -- but Jack wasn't about to move from his spot, so his eyes slide back over to the other man. "Been one a fair share of me life. Me father sailed the seas, and I happened to follow in his footsteps."
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"Well, then," Thorongil says, sitting back a little. "I'm sure you still want that goose. You can have it -- in exchange for a tale. Tell me something of your time at sea."
It says something about a man, Thorongil has found, what story he chooses to tell. He'll decide what he thinks of Sparrow after he hears the tale.
tldrs at you sob
A story for the goose? Easy enough payment. Thumb and forefinger brush down his mustache and goatee as the pirate considers which tale to tell, then his face brightens when it comes to him.
Jack shifts into a more active position, leaning forward, elbows on his knee, hands splayed for dramatics. "Have you ever, by chance, heard of the Kraken?" He pauses only a moment for Thorongil to answer then continues to explain it regardless, mouth now twisted with disgust at the thought of the creature. "A terrible, horrendous tentacled leviathan -- " his fingers wiggle, now, to demonstrate, "-- the Kraken was, with a size greater than any ship-of-the-line that could ever be dreamt up by men. It hauled all manner of ships to the depths and devoured men without regard; the smell of its breath alone, of such colossal rot, was enough to wrinkle the noses of the foulest pigs."
With the creature's presence properly built up, Jack continued: "Such a beastie was bent to the will of the accursed Cap'n of the Flying Dutchman, Davy Jones, ferryman of the dead." And also someone who Jack had owed a huge debt to, but there's no need to mention that. "Who, for some obscure and incomprehensible reason or another, had decided to send the creature after meself and me crew and ship."
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And it had allowed enough time for Jack to horribly misstep and let desire cloud his judgement, for Elizabeth to get the better of him. "While abandoning ship, during the chaos, one of me crew members betrayed me -- " his mouth purses in a brief grimace, " -- bound me to the ship and convinced the rest to leave without their captain." The fact that Gibbs and the rest of them had believed Elizabeth -- that Jack had stayed behind to die like that -- still miffed him at times. "I slipped the bonds, and found meself faced with an empty ship and the Kraken's gaping maw."
This next part is his least favorite part, and that seeps its way into his expression. "I fought, o' course, the best I could, but the beast won out in the end. I was pulled down, with the Pearl, to the depths of Jones' Locker."
At this point, Jack leans back a little in his seat. His visit down in the Locker had not been a fun time in his life, but nonetheless, a grin eventually splits his mouth. "I lived through it, as it would be. Clawed my way out of the Locker, out of hell itself, and back to the land of th' living with my ship."
the tl;dr is gr8 no shame
"I have never known a Man to come back from the dead," Thorongil murmurs thoughtfully. "At least, not before I came here. There are beings in my world that have done it; I have spoken with two who have left the Halls of the West and come back to Middle-earth over the flowing sea, but neither was born mortal."
He opens his hand, gesturing at the roast goose.
"Who am I to deny a meal to a man come back from death?"
<3
Eventually, after a couple minutes, the pirate slows his eating down to engage back in what Thorongil has said to him. His head dips in a short nod, idly picking meat off bone with his fingers. "Not a particularly common feat, I'd imagine. Myself, I've only known there to be one other man to cheat death, as such -- " Jack waves a hand. "-- but it involved a great deal more in voodooism and other such troublesome and archaic nonsense."
His gaze lifts back to the man, intrigued. "Middle-earth? 'Halls of the West'?"
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Once Jack starts talking again, he listens. Voodoo is unknown to him, but it has an unwholesome sound to it. But he will answer the questions put to him before he asks his own.
"Where I come from, Middle-earth is what you might call the land of the living; mortals and immortals alike dwell there. When a mortal Man dies, his spirit passes on; none know where, save perhaps the great Powers. But when an immortal dies, be he Elf or Wizard or otherwise, he passes over the Western Sea into the Undying Lands. From there, he can return, if he chooses, or stay in peace and bliss."
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He wipes a hand across his mouth. "An elf. That'd be those preternatural creatures akin to fairies and hobs and the like?"
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After he's brushed both hands against his suit to clean them, Jack cants his head to the side a little. "Have you met one?"
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"You must be quite keen on them, with talk like that."
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"You would be, too, if you ever met them," he says, coming back to the present. "But I do not desire that any be brought to Panem. There are warriors among their people, and some, maybe, would be able to bear the Games, yet I would not wish this place on them."