Chapter 1: Ransacking the Aztecs

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"The scene began with an average sunset, choppy salt water that glistened against the big star's rays. Smoothly, the hull of a great wooden ship cut through the waves, interupting their accustomed calm. Once the ship had docked against the untouched shores, men unloaded and stretched their worn sea legs. Many men and women flocked to welcome the strangers; others were wise to stray away from the unkindly visitors. But as time passed, the welcome grew old and ended faster than they took to arrive. When more ships with more devious men arrived, four conquistadors stepped off the ramps together, eyeing the fragile city with terrible intensions."

A strange looking woman, whose uncommon garments gloriously dazed those of common Aztecan descent, walked toward a much unwelcome crew of men. It was even stranger that she was considered a rare beauty to her subjects, unusual to not have been sacrificed to some god of the sorts (sacrifice was an expected practice in the kingdom). Oddly still, she pranced throughout the streets ignored no matter how green her short hair was dyed or how overly dressed she was for Aztecan culture. Even her voice sounded unnatural and quite fake when she spoke. However, many considered this oddity of a woman to be of royal heritage and treated her with contempt; those few who knew better and were nonnative to the area were skeptical.

"I doth say, what ch'all doing in my kingdom?" She exclaimed in an awkardly high tone. Somehow she managed to glare down the crew as well as flash them inappropriately with her hairy ankles. The captain and his crew introduced themselves to her as if their approaching mischief required such: That they were a rag-tag team of four who proudly advertised their friend Lotam's peacock ventriloquy act. All the while they adventured the seas, ransacking kingdoms of poorly civilized peoples with little weaponry because they lost a bet with the Spanish King Henry of some roman numeral.

"Obviously we're ransacking it," The one named Herry snickered in response to her earlier question. He littered the ground with a barren lollipop stick as he eyed the princess's ankles maliciously. He fingered through a handbag that hung around his shoulder, pulling out another sucker as quickly as he had thrown the previous one out.

"Your kingdom?" Neil, the team's leader, spat skeptically; his question being either legitimate or derisive. She found it difficult to decipher with his spanish accent. Neil was the gang's obvious captain due to his official-looking black hat and deviously, white blonde bushel of hair on which it crookedly sat.

"Our more ambitious gang on the previous ship didn't mention a princess," another member stated. A clean-cut man whose eyebrows complimented his face. Strangely, and overall a deal-breaker in a relationship, he represented his business by flaunting five dauntingly white peacock feathers, which seem to protrude out of the back of his head. Guessing his name was Lotam, the one into, specifically peacock, ventriloquy, the princess found the sudden abrasion to his attractiveness an eyesore.

"Must be a loopy one abandoned by the new english colony up North," Herry gestured by rolling his eyes and flailing his arms in small circles around his ears, only for both his own and the crew's amusement.

"What are you doing? You're acting like a monkey!" The princess stomped her feet in protest to his childish behavior, blushing. She was quick to verbally react to most situations; in fact, one could see how her impulsiveness could be rude. "And I assure you, I ain't no Englishman."

"Oh, look, her voice squeaks and cracks even worse when she's tempered!" Herry continued his foolish behavior and jumped up on a barrel that could have only been brought from their ship. Howling so hard in laughter that one suspender strap fell, exposing a slimmer of a dark purple under his stained shirt. However he didn't seem to notice over his excitement.

Fully ignoring Herry's immature behavior, his outbursts were rather common, the last to speak was a fellow whose face could soothe any women and make them swoon from a glance at his behind. "But you're white," Louie said, his name was plastered to a small, silver piece tied to his uniform jean styled jacket. "Not going to mention you speak our language."

The gang members smiled knowing that they had caught the woman like a cornered raccoon. Previous anger at Herry's mocking had drained into an unattractive gaping mouth and two worried eyes. However, like a momma coon protecting her kits, she still had some fight in her.

"But I-I'm not lying! I learned your strange tongue from my Spanish cousin, Paul. Its the truth!" The princess dramatized, trying to sell her performance to the Spaniards by getting down on her knees.

Louie raised an eyebrow and shared some glances and then several of them snickered all the while leaving the princess to predict her fate. Herry jumped down from the barrel with ease and gazed upon the kneeling princess. The dastardly look on his face stared at the princess, he leaned in close to her and observed her skin, eyes, and colors until she was mesmerized by his own features. "She must be Mestizo," he finally concluded and straightened up. He had finished gnawing on his sucker stick and spat it out at his feet, almost as if symbolizing that the investigation was over; time to move on to other petty pastime adventures. "Damn, but she's still almost as dark as you, Louie." Giggles immersed the group and stayed among them; popping up like the hiccups every time one of them cracked a joke about her appearance.

"Alright," Herry began commanding his allies. "How 'bout we show this lovely Mestizo what our castaway's quarters looks like?" Before the woman could physically object she was hauled to her feet and then lifted up so that her dress quite literally swept the ground. "May I?" Louie sniggered in her ear before picking her up under her arms. The two hauling the questionable princess away brought her to the 'castaway's prison' with little trouble since the women saw it useless to squirm, yet she stammered until no end.

"My guards well have you!" She yelled as they sat her down on a wooden bench that was attached to the wall with chains. Like an actress, even at the worse times, she dramatically threw herself at the metal bars as they locked the door. "When they get you and your treacherous crew, well! May the gods have mercy on you!" However, her 'damsel in distress' act was somehow less convincing than them believing she was actually related to royalty. Nor did it help that her false attractiveness accepted by the natives was not convincing to these men.

Herry picked up a metallic and complex looking piece of weaponry leaning against the wall. Giving her a wide, toothy grin, he explained the tool that was alien to her. "This here ma'am, I think will take care of your so-called guards." He blew on it and pretended to dust off its long barrel as he held it pointed in her direction. Beads of sweat treaded lightly down her forehead. She was no longer the princess of her kingdom, who had bravely stood up to the new intruders. She was now the perceived lower-class Mestizo who was taken prisoner by rude, yet not-to-bad-looking, bandits on a ship that reeked strongly of fermented grapes and illness.

The two proceeded out the door to help in the entertainment of pillaging the kingdom. On their way the princess took another shot at yelling, "No, I am royalty, ch'all hear! I am princess Zayan of the Aztec empire and will not continue to be imprisoned and enslaved on this filthy ship! The castle's guards will have you, I promise. Zayan the princess!" Before they slammed the door shut, the last thing she heard from them that day was their mouths burst with laughter. The fact that they seemed so confident made the princess wonder if they really would stand a chance, even if they were men who always assumed they had the upper-hand.

Slouching against the wall, she nearly sat in a bucket, she felt defeated and angry with herself that her acting skills were not convincing enough. They're filthy bandits, she argued. Of course they don't have a refined sense for role play. Thinking that they were just uncultured swine made the princess feel better, but she still crossed her arms over her small chest and sniffled.

After quite sometime, when the sun begin dipping beneath the horizon and the light shining through the porthole dimmed, the woman gazed down at her fluffy dress and fingered its material. Soon enough she dozed off, no longer worrying about the small bangs that could be heard in the distance.

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⏰ Last updated: Nov 25, 2015 ⏰

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