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3rd Pov - Backyard
Golden hour fell over Medford, Texas. The backyard of the Cooper house was bathed in warm amber light, the sky painted with streaks of rose and violet. Crickets had just begun their song, and a soft breeze rustled through the hedges and swing set.
A long wooden table had been set up beneath a string of glowing lights. Plates were full. Glasses clinked. And for a moment, the chaotic magic of cursed pirates and undead foes was replaced by grilled corn, iced tea, and the smoky scent of backyard barbecue.
At the main table, the adults had taken their places.
George Sr. and George S. sat side by side—with beer on their hands. Connie had already kicked off her shoes and swung her legs up on the bench like it was a lazy Sunday picnic. Mary sat opposite them, her hands neatly folded in her lap, her eyes watching Georgie.
And then there was Georgie—sandwiched between Veronica and his father, half-focused on his food, half still lost in the sea of his own mind.
"Not gonna lie," George S. said with a grin, nodding at Georgie. "That pirate stuff? That was wild. You had me holding my breath back there, son."
George Sr. chuckled. "Didn't know you had that kind of drama in you."
Georgie shrugged. "I just… wanted to make something that felt real."
Connie laughed, raising her fork. "Real? Honey, if that half-dead pirate had stood up in real life, I'd have thrown this fork at him and run for the hills."
Veronica giggled. "You almost made me scream when you did that 'GEHAHAHA' thing."
Georgie turned to her, eyes glinting. "Almost?"
She rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't get cocky."
But across the table, Mary's smile didn't reach her eyes. She tilted her head, voice soft but firm.
"Where did you learn to say those things?" she asked. "'Crewed by the damned'? 'Burn them all'?" Her gaze was sharp, motherly concern peeking through her calm expression. "That's not the kind of story you find in Sunday school."
The conversation lulled.
Georgie set down his fork, his voice quiet. "It's just a story, Mom. That's all. I promise."
Mary didn't say anything, but she didn't look away either.
{My mother never didn't believe in elves, fairies, or dragons. But she did believe in the devil. And all the evil being. And she did not view him, or being like him, as an appropriate playmate for her sons. But My Big Brother try to poke it with a DnD play.} - Adult Sheldon.
Trying to break the silence, Georgie gestured toward a few meters away, where the kids were now discussing over something with seriousness.
"See them? Just talking and playing. Pretty cool, isn't it?" he chuckled softly.
Connie smiled wide, resting her chin in her hand. "It is. Almost makes me want to join."
She said it casually—but something about her tone was serious.
Georgie blinked, then turned his full attention to her. "Wait… join?"
Connie nodded. "Why not? You've got us all hooked now, storyteller. Might as well throw us in the ship too."
The others looked up from their plates.
Even George Sr. raised an eyebrow. "You think we'd survive?"
George S. took a swig of beer and smirked. "I think I want to fight that pirate myself."
Georgie thinking for a second, imagining the weight of rewriting Lore, creating new arcs for the adults, adding new motivations and twists… But then, he smiled.
"The more the merrier, I guess."
A pause. A shared look. A moment of silent agreement.
For a split second, it was like the grown-ups were kids again too. Talking about games and pirates.
A few feet away, the kids had formed a circle on an old red-checkered blanket. They sat cross-legged with lemonade cups in hand.
"Okay, we officially survived the first arc….barely." Sheldon announced, glancing around at everyone. His voice carried the weight of analysis, not celebration.
"Yes," Tam said, his brows knit in confusion as he sank deeper into the Lore Georgie had created. "Georgie said the pirates have retreated… but why?"
The group nodded quietly. None of it made sense. The pirates were winning. Why pull back without finishing the fight?
"Maybe they got tired?" Missy offered with a shrug.
Sheldon scoffed. "Yeah right. Pirates who literally came back to life after being sliced in half suddenly need a nap." His voice oozed sarcasm.
Missy shot him a deadly glare. That was enough to shut him up.
"They're like zombies," George Jr. chimed in with seriousness. "I watched a movie about them once. They die if you crush their head."
Tam turned to him, shaking his head. "I don't think they're zombies. Zombies are dead and act like… well, dead men walking. These pirates were laughing. Talking. Zombies don't do that."
Sheldon nodded. "Yes, I think so too..."
His gaze shifted to someone who'd been silent the whole time.
"Billy…" Sheldon said, drawing out the name as everyone turned their eyes toward him.
Billy looked up slowly. "What?"
Missy caught on quickly. "Billy, do you know anything about this?"
"About what?" Billy asked back, genuinely confused.
Sheldon sighed, then leaned in a little. "The pirates. The Black Pearl pirates we fought earlier—what are they?"
He didn't want to cheat… but his curiosity had taken the wheel. As far as he was concerned, seeking answers was a scientific duty.
Right now, the answer might be sitting quietly in Billy Sparks.
"I don't know," Billy replied, his voice low.
Hope deflated like a popped balloon.
Bobbi groaned and frowned at him. "Come on! You sit next to Georgie—don't you know anything?!"
Tam immediately raised his finger to his lips, eyes darting toward the table where Georgie and the adults were seated.
"Be quiet about this! Or we'll get penalized for it!" Tam warned, his voice urgent but hushed.
The group collectively nodded, lowering their voices.
Billy fidgeted with the rim of his cup. "I don't know. Georgie told me I'm not allowed to spill his secrets."
That made every pair of eyes go wide.
"…There is a secret," Sheldon whispered.
Junior grinned, leaning in like a cartoon villain. "Tell me the secret…" he said in a low, mock-threatening tone, like a schoolyard bully on the playground.
But Billy—bigger than Junior and often slower to respond in conversations—didn't catch the tone or the joke. He simply blinked and said again, "I don't know."
Missy sighed, leaning back on her hands. "It's a waste of time. He's not going to say anything."
Tam exhaled as well. He had played D&D enough to know—if spoilers leak out, the fun dies with them.
"We'll figure it out eventually," he said. "I think Jack Sparrow is the key to all of this."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"But how?" Junior's voice cut through the group again, quiet but frustrating.
A pause fell over them.
"...Let's stick to the story first," Sheldon replied at last. Truth be told, he didn't have a plan to free Jack Sparrow either.
Not yet.
But that was what made it fun.
—-
*3rd Pov
The garage was silent—except for Georgie's voice.
He sat behind his Dungeon Master screen, eyes scanning the table and the players were locked in—papers in hand, dice ready. Even the adults had grown quiet, drawn into the depth of the world Georgie wove with every word.
{The morning comes—but it does not bring joy like usual.
In Port Royal, the sun rises over a broken city. The air is heavy with ash. Streets are empty, save for the cries of those who mourn the dead.
Doors remain locked. Children hide under beds. Mothers clutch their rosaries. The people of Port Royal fear another strike from the cursed pirates.}
{But not everyone is hiding.}
{At the heart of the city, in the old council hall, Commodore Norrington and the Royal Navy officers have gathered. Their boots echo on marble floors as they discuss the night's attack—the first in over a decade.}
Georgie paused, letting the image settle in their minds. His voice softened:
{And you—our heroes—you approach the steps of the council building. Just as you do, a pair of armed guards cross halberds in front of you, blocking your path.}
{"State your business," one of them says, eyes narrowing at Sheldor and the rest of your party.}
Georgie looked across the table, eyes locking with Sheldon.
"So… what do you do?"
Sheldon raised his head confidently, then spoke in character:
{Sheldor steps forward and looks the guard in the eye.
"We are the ones who helped save your people from death last night. We fought alongside you—protected the civilians while your barracks were burning. If there is any justice left in this city, then let it open these doors."}
Georgie raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to convince them… or intimidate them?"
Missy whispered, "Ooh, do the intimidating one!"
"No," Sheldon snapped. "We need them to trust us."
Tam nodded. "We should play this smart."
Georgie gestured. "Roll persuasion."
Sheldon picked up his dice and rolled.
17.
Georgie smiled.
{The guard studies you, then lowers his halberd slightly. He nods to his partner, who opens the door.
"Fine. But speak wisely. The Commodore does not take kindly to interruptions."}
{The great doors of the council hall creak open.}
{Inside, the Commodore stands over a war table covered in maps and casualty reports. Norrington's coat is clean, but his eyes betray fatigue. He turns as you enter.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asks sharply. "Who allowed civilians into a military session?"}
Tam turned to Georgie, voice firm and serious.
{Tamos steps forward and faces Commodore Norrington.
"We are the group who helped save this city. We've come to give you information."}
Georgie narrowed his eyes like a true Commodore, looking at each of them in turn before replying in a cutting tone:
{"This is a military meeting!. We do not allow civilians to barge in and make a mess of everything!"}
His voice boomed through the garage, and for a moment, Tam and the other players stiffened. Georgie was in character, and it showed.
{"We're here to help you! We've got information—and this is how you treat us?!"}
Veronica crossed her arms and frowned at Georgie.
He narrowed his eyes at her, then exhaled slowly and shifted tone again.
{Norrington sighed and glanced at one of the Royal Navy officers.
"My apologies. Tell us your information, and the Navy will see you're properly rewarded."}
Missy raised her hand. "Brother, can we increase the reward they give us?"
Georgie turned to her, amused. "Roll a persuasion check!"
Missy grabbed her die, grinning as it clattered across the table.
Roll: 17.
Georgie, slipping into his DM voice again:
{Norrington narrows his eyes at you. He clearly doesn't like being interrupted—especially not by civilians seeking coin—but he gives the smallest nod.
"Very well," he says. "You'll be compensated—if your words prove valuable."}
Just as the players were about to speak again—
SLAM!!!.
Everyone jolted slightly as Georgie banged the table softly—his way of signaling a scene shift.
{Suddenly, the doors of the council chamber are flung open. The hinges groan under the weight of the force. Sunlight floods into the chamber as a familiar figure storms inside—his boots echoing sharply on the stone floor.}
Georgie dropped his voice to a sharper, almost desperate tone:
{"Commodore!" the man shouts, breathing hard. His clothes are scorched from last night's fire, a cut along his temple still fresh.}
{It's Will Turner.}
{"They took her!" he yells. "The pirates—THEY TOOK ELIZABETH!"}
The room in the garage tensed.
Georgie continued without missing a beat:
{Norrington's face darkens. "What are you doing here?"}
{Will slams a clenched fist down on the table. "I saw them with my own eyes! The Black Pearl. It came from the fog, struck in silence, and vanished with her aboard!"}
The players looked at each other.
Bobbi whispered, "It's starting."
Tam leaned forward. "Now's our chance."
Sheldon nodded, speaking in character.
{Sheldor takes a step forward, turning toward Norrington.
"Then there's no more time to waste. You already have someone in your prison who knows that ship better than anyone else alive."}
{"Jack Sparrow."}
A beat of silence in-game—and at the table.
Georgie slowly raised his head, his voice shifting back into Norrington's as he narrowed his eyes:
{"You want me to trust the word of Jack Sparrow?"}
Veronica spoke next, calm but firm.
{"We don't trust him. We just know he knows something."}
Tam added, {"And if you don't ask, we'll be too late."}
Missy leaned into her character. {"Let us speak to him. Just for a moment."}
Georgie smirked, glancing across the table at the adults. His next words were slow, deliberate.
{Norrington walks slowly around the war table. He stops beside Will. Then, he turns to all of you.
"Fine. You'll speak to him. But you won't be alone."}
{"If I allow this madness to proceed… you will not going without supervision."}
{"Will Turner. Your group. And four trusted citizens of Port Royal—people loyal to the Crown—will accompany you."}
Georgie turned to the adult players.
{"Captain Alton Briggs." (George Cooper Sr.)
"Madame Faye." (Connie)
"Sister Alura." (Mary)
"Master Holloway." (George S.)}
{"They will keep eyes on you. And if this becomes betrayal... they will put an end to it."}
Everyone around the table froze for a second—kids and adults alike.
George Sr. grinned. "Guess we're in now."
Mary looked at her character sheet nervously. "Do I really have to work with a pirate?"
Missy laughed. "Oh yeah. And he flirts a lot."
George S. leaned back, tipping an imaginary hat. "Hope that ship's got rum."
Connie just cracked her knuckles. "Let's chase a ghost ship."
—-------
*3rd Pov
Everyone stared at Georgie—clearly taken aback by what he was doing.
He stood up, and his body swayed like waves crashing against a ship's hull, unable to hold itself steady. Or, well, like a sissy person, some might say.
Georgie embodied Jack Sparrow—mimicking his unique gestures, stumbling with theatrical grace, moving as if the floor were shifting beneath him. The moment he opened his mouth, all the players forgot the "great pirate legend" Georgie had described earlier.
{"Gentlemen!"}
His voice cut through the room. {"And ladies"}
Everyone looking at him—some with awe, others with thinly-veiled disgust.
George S. squinted suspiciously.
{"Are you Jack Sparrow?"}
Georgie froze mid-step and slowly turned his head toward him, eyes narrowed. He raised a single finger with exaggerated flair.
{"Captain,"} he corrected, voice dripping with wounded pride.
{"Captain Jack Sparrow."}
Mary had seen enough.
She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.
"Stop it! Stand still and be a good man!"
Georgie—still in character—squinted back at her, lips curling into a bitter smile.
{"I am a good man... but one broken by betrayal."}
Tam picked up on it immediately.
{"Betrayal? What happened?"}
Georgie's shoulders dropped. His swagger faded. He sitting down and looked directly at Tam, dropping out of character briefly.
"Do you want to know?"
Everyone around the table nodded silently, already reaching for their dice.
Georgie leaned closer to his notes and spoke in a slow, ominous tone:
"Captain Jack Sparrow is a complicated man. If you want to hear his story, you'll need a high roll. Very high."
Connie twirled her die between her fingers like a professional gambler.
"How high?" she asked.
Georgie's expression didn't change.
"If you're rolling persuasion, you'll need a 25.
If intimidation—30."
Everyone groaned and stared down at their character sheets, defeated before even rolling.
Connie sighed as she checked her modifiers.
"Forget it. Even if I roll a natural 20, I'm not getting near that."
One by one, the others set their dice down, giving up.
Except Veronica.
She looked at Georgie out of the corner of her eye, then down at her sheet... and smiled.
She had an idea.
Just as Georgie turned to standing up, Veronica's voice stopped him.
{V stepped closer to the iron bars that held Captain Jack Sparrow, separating him from the sea he loved.}
Georgie flinched slightly. His mouth twitched—but he didn't stop her.
Veronica saw that.
She beamed.
Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned into her role.
{V looked at Jack Sparrow with sultry eyes and a playful smile.}
{"Captain Jack,"} she purred. {"Why are you here? Who betrayed you? I could give you... something... if you tell me."}
Everyone turned to Georgie, who was now visibly twitching.
"...Roll a seduction check."
Grins exploded across the table. Missy and Bobbi weren't going to be left behind.
{"No fair!"} Missy cried.
{"I'll sit on your lap if you tell us, Captain!"}
{"Me too!"} Bobbi chimed in, giggling.
Georgie sighed dramatically and gestured for all of them to roll.
"Eleven."
"Nine."
"Ten."
The boys glanced over at the dice, then at the girls—who were clearly disappointed.
Sheldon gave Missy a long, disappointed sigh.
Missy glared at him like she was about to leap over the table and strangle him.
Mary, watching the chaos wanted to unfold, calmly reached over and patted Missy's shoulder.
"Well, at least y'all tried. How about I give it a shot?"
The table went quiet.
But Georgie was already standing again—and without hesitation, he fell back into character, fully possessed by Jack once more.
{"W-we-well... if you truly want to know..." } he drawled, fingers curling around the iron bars,
{"you lovely ladies may come closer... and I'll tell you everything…"}
His eyes wandered from Veronica to the others with a dazed, doomed sort of grin—like a man caught in a woman's web.
Tam blinked.
"They did it..." he muttered in disbelief.
The boys were stunned.
"Damn," George S. laughed. "How low is this guy's defense against women?!"
Their campaign had only just begun.
Georgie, fully in his element as Dungeon Master, brought the world to life with every twist of his voice, every sweeping hand gesture, every slow dramatic pause that made even the grown-ups lean in. He gave weight to each NPC, flair to every encounter, and painted their path through the Caribbean like a storyteller possessed by myth and saltwater.
With each roll of the dice, the garage faded,
and the sea began to rise.
Laughter echoed off the old garage walls. The table rattled under the weight of maps, notebooks, snacks, and excitement. Arguments broke out—some over tactics, others over rules, and a few purely out of pride.
Even George S. found himself locked in a full-on debate with his own son, eyebrows raised, hands gesturing wildly as neither was willing to back down from a decision they each thought was "clearly" the right call.
No one stepped in to stop them.
Because it was part of it.
The chaos was part of the charm.
Georgie led them—narrating battles, guiding choices, improvising characters on the fly, his eyes glowing every time someone gasped or cheered or cursed at the dice gods.
The world of the Caribbean—of cursed gold, cursed ships, and cursed men—was his.
And now, it was theirs too.
The garage was cramped. The lights were dim. The air was warm.
But no one wanted to leave.
Not yet.
Not when the Ship had just set sail.
Not when the sea was calling.
Not when the story tried to unfold one by one.