The Chronicles of John Breasly: Book One

The Chronicles of John Breasly: Book One

The Magic of Venice

In this story, John finds himself on an emergency trip to Venice, due to a distress call the king sent him. What he discovers is almost more than he can handle. Only John and his friends can overcome this. What will the future hold if they cannot defeat the magic beneath Venice, and it's evil nature?

Chapter 1: Answering the Call
It was a late weekend night. John was in the Royal Museum, studying a magical book called the Krokonomicon. He was just about ready to go to bed, when Admiral Edward Sharktooth of the HMS Empire barged in the room. "Sir," he said, "a message has just arrived from the King of Itlay's brother." John replied, "Soar? What does he need?" Admiral Sharktooth handed him a piece of parchment. It was written in haste. It read:

John,

''Shadow has gone missing. I can't fill you in on the details. Come to the Venice as fast as you can. Do not stop for anything. I fear for my brother's life!''

-- Soar

Shadow? Missing? John grabbed the Krokonomicon, a few other books, and ran down into the galleries. What should I bring, he thought? He went into the weapons gallery. No, he thought, weapons won't do it. He went down a side walkway, and emerged in an underground warehouse. He ranthrough rows of boxes, until he found one decorated in purple that said Flourish and Botts. He pried it open, grabbed a few books, and went for another case. This one was in green, labeled Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. John opened it, and pulled out a few strange looking plants, potions, and a book. He then rushed out of the museum.

By the time he reached his house, Big Ben was ringing. John knew this meant midnight. He rushed into Buckingham Palace, and found his sons Matthew and Jack in the drawing room. "Boys," he said, "we need to get going. King Shadow is in trouble!" Jack jumped up at once, muttered something about being right back, and darted out of the room. Matthew sat, rolling a quill through his fingers, and said, "Why do we need to save him? He's done nothing for us." John scowled and retorted, "He's saved us more times than you can know, Matthew. No come on, or I'll throw you off Tower Bridge!" Matthew's eyes widened. He stood up, said, "I'll start packing," and walked off, stiff.

By the time they were ready to leave, it was almost sunrise. John and his sons took a carriage to the docks, where they would board the HMS Imperial. There, standing at the helm, was Robert Mcroberts. He and his lieutenant, Jacob Dylan Anglefin, were reading navigation charts. John climbed aboard. "What in the name of George the First are you doing, Mcroberts?" asked John. Robert, barely looking up, replied, "Making sure your not sent to Davy Jones, my king." Jacob then grabbed his telescope and put it on a brass tripod. A sexton hung from a hook next to the telescope. "Go below," Jacob said, "we'll leave soon."

Jacob was right. Within ten minutes, they were sailing down the Thames, escorted by the HMS Empire and the HMS Mercenary. They trio made their way down the English Channel, and took to the high seas. It took them a few days to finally reach the Mediterranean. Then, disaster struck, in the form of voodoo.

Chapter 2: Sidetracked
A freak storm glistened on the horizon. What was this? And what was even stranger: green lightning. The clouds were tinted purple. Jacob, who was at the wheel, called for the sails to be raised, in order to slow the boat. The crewmembers did as they were told. So, they sat in the temperous sea, awaiting a deadly storm. Then, at impossible speeds, the storm took towards them. Robert ran to the top deck, and held up a maroon flag. The Empire and the Mercenary both went south, towards North Africa. John understood they meant to port at Gibraltar first. Then, all hell broke loose. Lightning struck the mast of the Imperial. A whirpool started at the eye of the storm, and the three ships began to be pulled in. John looked up, and saw a glowing purple orb, sitting at the center of the storm. What was strangest, is that not a cloud touched it. Just when the ships seemed ready to be sucked into the Abyss, a savior came. Out of the depths of the whirlpool, came a grimy figure. It was Slappy, son of the Angler Lord! He rose his sword, and a bolt of enery, shaped like a trident, struck the orb. The storm shattered, sending everything away in a shock wave. The three ships tumbled towards North Africa, and John fell unconcious.

John woke up in a large room. Jacob was over him, tending to John's wounds. In the corner of the room, a three foot wide fountain of water sat. Then, a figure shot out of it. It appeared the fountain was deeper than imagined. Slappy walked towards John, in his true form. Slowly, he morphed into human form. He sat in a wooden chair, and smiled at John. "What... did you do?" John asked. Slappy replied, "Oh, just saved your life and your ships from being swallowed into the Abyss, and then saved them from beaching into the surf of North Africa. Nothing much." John smiled, and thanked Slappy. "Oh yeah," Slappy said, "here you go." He handed John a scroll, then morphed into his true form, and jumped into the pool of water. After it swallowed him, it closed, and a sand dollar lay in it's place. John picked it up, and the crest of Atlantis became visible on one side, a trident on the other. John unrolled the scroll, and inside was an identical copy of the sand dollar, except printed. It was so accurate, it looked as if the sand dollar was made after the painting. That didn't reassure John.

The door to the room opened, and Jack stepped in. "Father," he said, "we're in a fort called Fort Desert Storm. The ship... well... we won't be traveling soon." John stood up. He walked outside, and found himself in a small camp, enclosed by stone walls. An unfamiliar African soldier aproached John. "My leige, your ship is in drydock in Oran, along with the escort ships." He had to have understood John's dumbfounded look, because he frowned. "Oh, m'lord, I apologize. I'm Paapa, sergeant of the British Royal Navy." John replied, taking in the fort, "Greetings, Sergeant Paapa." Paapa explained this was an EITC operation that the Navy had started, and he was overseeing local forces. "Before we go into town, I must warn you, it is a pirate stronghold. Dress towards their kind." So, five minutes later, John walked out of his tent. He wore a turban, a tunic, a long robe-like covering, and several silky garments. They were all purple, and had several golden anchors mongramed into them. Paapa and Jack weren't dressed much better.

They left the fort, walked a long, thirty minute path through the desert, and came into the town of Oran. They traveled to dry dock, and what John saw horrified him. His magnificent ship was now timbers and kindling. It was held together by temporary boards and iron bars. A mast was missing. The left side of the boat was gouged. The wood-and-stone carving of the Virgin Mary on the front was the only thing undamaged. John looked down to the next two docks, and saw equally as damaged ships. "We're trapped in a pirate sanctuary," John said. Then, a hand shot out of the water. It grasped the air, then, went below. Slowly, a figure rose from the water. He had a long, crustacean-like face. "Dr. Skull, I presume?" asked Jack. He gave Jack a disfigured smile. Maybe it was a growl. John couldn't tell. "Why, how kind of you to notice," Dr. Skull replied. His voice sounded like carraige wheels over loose gravel. Then, a scream echoed from behind them. John swung around, and saw a middle-aged man in a turban, with a scimitar at his side. "Monster!" the pirate screamed. Dr. Skull snapped his fingers. a bucket of water fell from a nearby rooftop, and washed over the pirate. It totally encased the pirate in a cocoon of water tendrils. Where it pulled away and melted into the sand, a Lophian soldier stood. It's scimitar was now grimy, like it had spent years in the ocean. He walked forward, into the water, and disappeared. "Let's talk somewhere more... private," Dr. Skull suggested.

They found an abandoned fishing hut along the port. "Inside, before the pirates find us," whispered Paapa. He closed the door behind him, grabbed a nearby crate, and stacked it against the door. He then drew his dagger and took watch. "Excuse me, Mr. Skull, or whatever your name is, but can you change into human form?" Dr. Skull growled, "It's Dr. Skull, thank you. And, I prefer to be in a stronger form when in private." Dr. Skull then turned to John. "Do you have that scroll with you?" Dr. Skull asked. John reached into his robe and extracted the gift from Slappy. He unrolled it, and placed it on a table. "Now, the gift," Dr. Skull asked. John had a strange feeling it was the sand dollar. He handed Dr. Skull the sand dollar, curious. Dr. Skull placed it equal with the drawing. He then flexed his fingers, and a staff made of driftwood grew into his hands. The head of the staff was the head of an Anglerfish. He held the staff high, and brought it down on the sand dollar. The head made contact with the sand dollar, and a blast of sea water exploded. Everything was soaked, including John, Jack, and Paapa. The only thing dry was the map. Wait, map? The scroll was now replaced with a large map. Dr. Skull smiled, picked up the map, and handed it to John. He grasped it, and the map shrank back to the sand dollar. "The seafarer's guide," Dr. Skull began, "is a gift only the sons of the Angler Lord can grant. Slappy did not have the energy to activate it so far inland. It is a map that will grant you guidance through any port, ocean, or lake. Use it well." Dr. Skull winked, which looked odd, seeing as his head was diagonal. He then swept his hand and dried everyone off, though they stunk of thousand-year-old barnacles. Then, Dr. Skull turned to sand, and fell to the floor. Out of the sand crawled a small, white crab. Jack picked up the crab, walked outside the hut, and laid him in the surf.

Chapter 3: Finding a Route
As they were leaving the hut, a yell echoed across the port. Gunshots came from everywhere. "Curse Wolfe, and his feudal raids!" screamed Paapa. They ran for their life. They made it to the edge of town, when Paapa stopped. "Gather your men, your Highness. Go southeast, into the desert.  I will arrange transport about, but I must stay here for now.  Stay at the southern outpost until your transport comes." Paapa ran off into the battle. John and Jack ran back to the fort. They met Robert and Matthew, who had already packed everything onto camels. In all, they had seven camels. They all mounted. Admiral Sharktooth had apparently survived, and would be traveling with them. The rest of the soldiers were staying behind. The seventh camel was mounted by John's old friend Simon Treasurehawk. "Simon, how did you get here?" John asked. Simon smiled. "Well, I was visiting Melilla, and heard tale of your ship crashing. I just arrived." So, they set out.

It took them two hours, but finally, they were a kilometer south of Oran. They reached two small huts, a wooden tower, and several traders. A sign above the larger hut read: Southern Outpost. They stopped there, and waited for several hours. Finally, over the horizon, a Navy soldier on horseback appeared. He approached John and said, "Oran is in turmoil. We are moving your ships to Gibraltar, but it will take time.  Head northeast, and travel until you find Algiers." Robert shuddered. "Algiers," he said, "bad place. I was imprisoned there for a time.  I guess we're safe, as long as they keep the treaty." The soldier nodded. "So, once you reach Algiers, there will be a navy transport waiting to bring you to Venice." "Thank you," John said. "Did Sergeant Paapa send you?" The soldier's face turned solemn. "No," he said, "General Wolfe did. Paapa is dead."

They traveled for several days, until finally reaching the city. As they rode through the town, the people stared in awe. John kept his head low, as the "surlier" groups emerged from the alleyways. They rode to the port, where they met a Navy soldier. "My lord, you boat is ready when you are," he said. They dismounted, took their items, and climbed aboard. Not as classy as the Imperial, John thought, but it will do.

News
The Chronicles of John Breasly are fiction stories written by King John Breasly II of England. If anyone wishes to become a character, please send John a message, or comment below! Thank you!

Current Characters to Come: In development: Want to become a character? No spots garunteed:
 * King Shadow Sail
 * Simon Treasurehawk
 * Soar
 * Samuel Redbeard
 * Edgar Wildrat
 * Skull's Marines
 * Chris Swordbones
 * Capt. Skull X
 * Jeffrey Blasthawk
 * Usman
 * Lawrence Daggerpaine
 * Gen. of Peace
 * Matthew Blastshot
 * Johnny "Scarface" Cothern