The wind blew harsh and fast from north west that afternoon, and the crew of The Kali were busy at work as usual. Every so often, the call of a woman shouting would echo across the deck, even in this opened air, followed by the hard snap of a whip. The crew labored, and labored hard, but they would be well-rewarded for their suffering, if they each played their part.

Captain Beatrice "Cannons" Scullwog lived up to her name. Her arms were as thick as any man she had ever seen, and she was usually taller and stouter. Her rule was as strong and hard as her muscles, which gleamed a deep tan color in the sunlight. Her stringy black hair was tied back in a long braid, covered by a rather inelegant pirate's hat, which frayed at the edges.

Beatrice had this paranoid scratching in the back of her head, and she knew something was amiss. Perhaps the wind was not blowing just right, or perhaps her decks were not quite as shiny. Or maybe, she could even tell that the ship was just slightly heavier than it ought to be. With purpose, her boots hitting heavily against the wooden ground, she set of to see exactly what the problem was.

It would be rectified immediately.

[OOC: Anyone coming aboard The Kali may post here.]

The afternoon burned down upon the sun-bleached wood of The Siren. Seagulls kept watch over white sails as a dozen Frenchmen- maybe more- sped about her deck. The crewmen were burly and graceless. Still, their routine was coordinated as a dance- mops pushed, knots tied, sails raised, all perfectly timed to the beat of the sea.

This perfection was the work of Captain "Pipesweet" Jacques Fitzroy, a pirate lord with the aura of an aristocrat. He emerged from his quarters with purpose. Every inch of Fitzroy was controlled, from his blonde hair pulled back in a bow to the shine of his boots. As he walked the deck, Pipesweet carried with him the scents of leather and sweet pipe smoke. His crew's efficiency pleased him. The Captain, however, could not smile. Something bigger was on his mind.

Pipesweet reached the ship's bow. As he looked to the blue horizon, he pulled from his waistcoat a tattered parchment. The Captain's fingers, surprisingly devoid of callouses, unfolded the paper. It was a decrepit treasure map- half of one, at least. The torn-away portion had been lost to time. Pipesweet was about to look it over- inspect yet again the same island with the same missing finish line- when he sensed something. The thin pipe in his mouth became threatened by clenched teeth. His perfect ship, of which he knew every corner, was suddenly different.

The Captain turned back toward the rest of his vessel, and waited. The imperfection would be spotted.


[OOC: Any characters boarding The Siren can arrive in this post!]

In the center of Stonehenge was a little red flag planted in the ground. It was clearly visible, even from the outer circle of stones. Carved into the rock by the flag were the words:

FACE THE CHALLENGE AND RECEIVE THE RIDDLE

Each team that arrived at the flag would have to overcome a challenge. Those that successfully completed it would be given the clue to the location of the next checkpoint.

In the ground was a sword, its point buried in the dirt. A shield was propped up against it. These would be there for each arriving team, whether or not the previous team had returned them after using them. Only ONE team member could pick these items up, regardless of what the other(s) attempted.