Upon waking in the darkness Jaimie checked to see what belongings he had. He also look around the room for any objects in the room (eg. crates, barrels, tools). He still had his Bag and inside was the whistle. Everything else was gone. He blew the whistle and put his ear to the wall with the sloshing sound and listened specifically for any whale sounds. He heard familiar whale sounds.
With the stirring of the albino lad One-Gun immediately patted his pockets, looking for his gun. He never went anywhere without his gun and tried to palm it as he blacked out. You have one gun, and unless you walk around with a loaded pistol, you have no bullets. All of the rest of your gear is gone. While he doesn’t walk around half cocked, he did keep an Alchemical Cartridge in the barrel. He thought to himself, “it saves having to load if I suddenly get called out. Of course, it’s only one round so I’ll keep it in the inside pocked of my great-coat for now. No need to let EVERYONE know I have a loaded weapon.”
Dozer growled and slowly tried to stand up seeing fine in darkness. He wanted to look for doors or windows, but was still too groggy to find the door. Since the Ogre wasn’t on his feet, One-gun aided him with Healing. He didn’t have any tools but figured getting the ogre up and walking should be enough, at lest for the moment.
Dewshine squinted into the darkness looking for my wolf who always shows up by my side after a minuet, as it is never far away. She proceeded to ignore the rest of the group as she concentrated on finding her wolf.
Valdus spouted, “my mother warned me my love affair with pirates would turn south. Effing Black-Eye and his rum, or was the sweet mash,” looking around himself to get my bearings and check to see what belongings he did have. Valdus also looked around the room for any objects in the room. He sat up to see whom else Black Eye screwed over, feels something wet, and just mutters, “By Cayden Cailean’s empty mug don’t let whatever my hand be in now reek of piss when I can smell and see straight once more.” Seeing the Ogre a smile breaks across his tan face and looking through platnium blonde hair, “Thank Cayden you’re here Ogre, I thought that growl meant I was going to loose my dinner, HA!” He remembered trying to hide one or more of his belonging, but something about it made him realize that he probably failed, even though he felt good about the hiding at the time. It could be the fact that he had none of his belongings except for a single change of clothes. He saw chains and shackles bolted around the walls, but other than that, the 10 strangers, and a plain wooden door, there is nothing
The orge growled once again this time from his head ache and closes his eyes as one of the others try to heal him. Trying to clear his head and then opens his eyes once more to try to get a better look around him . He did in fact find the door, and he also heard half a dozen boots clumping down a set of wooden stairs just outside them……
One-gun calls out, after helping the Ogre, “Anyone dead?” He was trying to see who was there in the hold with him, and figure out who he needs on his side to make the best of this situation.
Got four responses to his queston. The first from the gnome in the foppish bardic garb, grumbling under his breath, ‘’…… alken……. bard………guild….. ungodly hour….. yells?’’ Then from the fiery-haired halfling, ‘’Nay, ye bloody plonker! No need te be &%$! yellin’ so loud theh $#!% bloody sharks cn hear!‘’ The woman in the black tricorne hat says, ’’I don’t think anyone’s dead, dear. Thank you for mending the ogre’s sore head. The name’s Sandra.‘’ and all you get from the man in the blue silk head scarf is a ’’hope so….’ followed by manic chuckles.
Valdus was the first to respond the the manic glee, ‘nay as well my good man, neither Pharasma nor Asmodeus have laid claim to me yet, though I feel like they certainly tried. Greetings to you, Sandra and my new shacklemates, name’s Valdus.’’ Looking around the room he continued, “I’d daresay we could have had a better party on land so any idea what ship were on?”
One-gun also got in a statement about the same time, ‘Well, from the sound of things, we’re all at least partially alive, and no, Mumbles, you’re not dead. Sorry. The ogre could fix that if you really want. Sorry, Ogre, but I haven’t yet heard your name." He then turned toward the first of the female voices who responded earlier, “Sandra, if’n yer as beautiful as you sound, then we’ll have a pleasant voyage indeed. It feels as though you’re the type who heals? I hope so because I’m not more than a plodder at the task myself.”
From his personal knowledge on the subject, Valdus knew that he was on a large ship, but didn’t know the class. His head was still a bit fuzzy, it seemed, but he knew it wasn’t a small or “huge” ship, and must be bigger. Based on the sway, he thought he was under the water line, or at it. From what he could tell everyone seemed to be without any equipment.
Raz finally roused himself enough to really begin interacting with the others. He looked to see exactly what he was carrying, or what was near him that he recognized as his. “Ah, little white waif, I am pleased to see you alive, though not pleased to see you in the same circumstance as my own. My name is Raz,” he says as much to the Albino as to the rest of the room. Seeing the Albino, Valdus seemed surprised and seemed to listen to Raz’s idea. “Yes I think you have a point my scaly friend.”
Raz continued as if Valdus had said nothing, “Seems we will have to work together to get out of this mess- we are all, pardon the phrase, in the same boat. Let them think we are agreeable for a while, and when their guard is down, we shall strike!” He looked around for agreement, and tried to see who else was in here with him.
A loud purring was coming from under a canvas heap immediately near the hulking ogre, slumped over near the corner of the dark room. A wispy tentacular appendage made its way out of the folds of canvas. Unbeknownst to the man-beast, it raised up in the dark and began wafting under the ogre’s chin as he stood bent near double in the tight confines of the room.. The soft furry end tickled against his skin. The hairs had a certain mixed smell of fish, limestone, salted pork and a particular over-reactive sebaceous gland.
Valdus raised an eyebrow, “I think they press ganged a rather large cat, or our Ogre friend is showing me the first “fur snake” I have ever seen!”
Turning his eyes away from the ‘Fur snake’ / ’large cat’ he looked to the sound of the reptilian member of the gang. ‘’Greetings Raz, though I have not met one of your ilk before t’would seem we are fellows of circumstance, aye?‘’ Valdus sat up, leaned against a wall with his ear and listened for their guests to ‘arrive.’ He heard half a dozen footsteps coming down stairs, as do ALL OF THE PEOPLE IN THE ROOM, as it seems the staircase shares a wall with the room. Valdus, personally, could tell that there was one in front, and 6 coming up behind him in a jumble.
“Raz,’ One-gun said and noded to the lizard. ‘Valdus,’ he said turning toward the half-elf. ‘If they took me, then of course they took the member of the bard guild who was performing with me.”
“My Mates, for I think we’re now shipmates, I think we’ve been press ganged, or this is how the stories usually go.”
“I’m One-Gun Floyd. My Grandfather was Phil ‘Lefty’ Collins. Ye may have heard of him,” I pause for a moment or two waiting for a response.
“While I’m not a bard like our diminutive friend of the silver voice, I do have at least some ability to perform, and I love a good sea shanty. I came here to sign on with pirates, and I think the signin’ parts are done. We’re now part of a pirate ship, or so I think”
Valdus’ eyes go wide, “You can’t mean THE Phil ‘Lefty’ Collins the drumming bard turned pirate when the godless bastards of Rahadoum arrested him for singing shanties to Bessmara! Not THE Phil ‘Lefty’ Collins that lost his hand because he refused to stop singing of the Sea Queen? Not THE Phil ‘Lefty’ Collins that broke out and stole their fastest ship! Leading his godless pursuers on a chase across the edge of the Eye of Abendego! Then used the circular currents to rip back across the last surviving ship and harpoon them! Then kill the officers with his fellow escapees and sailed for the Shackles with the crew! THAT Phil ‘Lefty’ Collins?”
“Weeell,” One-Gun says, “The part about the hand isn’t true. He lost it to a giant shark. While the beastie was still trying to swallow it down he proceeded to stab the shark in the eye with his Lyre. He broke the fingerboard off in the monster’s head and then beat him to death with what remained of the body. Other than that, yeah THAT Lefty Collins.”
“SHARKS!” Suddenly the lump underneath the heap of canvas jumped up carrying the tough mass of cloth with him. The lump with unabashed speed raced aimlessly about the room knocking over anything and every thing that was in his way. Like a clothen comet it continued to wreck havoc, and excitement, till it smacked headlong into the bent thigh of the large ogre, who was still too tall to truly stand erect. Upon meeting the immovable mass of humanoid muscle the lump came to an abrupt stop, and slumped back to the ground in, once again becoming just a heap. Though this time it rolled ever so slightly to the left where the head of a black man-cat fell out of the sheet fold.
The cat seemed unconscious. He appeared to be a young child, although that can be hard to tell with the catfolk. He was definitely young, however, and seemed to be in that stager where his hands were out of proportion to the rest of his body. Even so, for such a young example of that race he had some impressive scars. One of his ears is mostly missing and there is an impressive bite mark on his chest where a shark, just, managed to get hold. This cat would likely have some stories to tell around the evening grog.
“We got ourselves a live one here!” One-gun called out with a lively laugh. “Tell me, Kit, have ye got a name?” He said as he tried to rouse the young catfolk boy. He hoped the boy was just dazed as anything more would be beyond his skill. He seemed to calm the boy slightly.
Looking at the cat person Valdus muttered, “Shite, I was really hoping it was a furry snake.” A little louder he said, “Greetings my furry friend! We’re shipmates now, name’s Valdus. You would be?”
Neither of them got a response for the young catboy.
Dozer looked down at the young cat-boy and chuckled then looking up to the one who asked, One-Gun, “I am Dozer and i ask why should we not fight if they not want battle why bring me here?”
One-Gune replied, “They want you here to fight the OTHER guys, big guy. And hey, if you can really fight then we’re happy to have you. Just remember, Dozer, that you need to fight the other guys. Stick with me, my friend, and I’ll make sure you have lots of people to fight. Might not be all the time…but the waits will be worth it”
Dozer ponders a moment and nods" better fights often better then many weak fights or few strong fights…i will try your.. getting along…. till better fight comes"
“Fantastic, One Gun! Soon I’ll be calling you captain,” chimes in Valdus.
Dewshine felt bad for the little boy and her heart went out to him, but she needed to find her wolf first.
‘’Well to business, Mister One-Gun, t’would appear we are in a larger class of ship from the looks of her, though not huge, and the sway tells me we be at or below the water’s line. Also, that our host has horrible taste in decor.‘’ Valdus picked up one of the chains attached to the wall, “Really chains!?! This is so last year, I’m mean come on all the floating whore-boats have silk rope now for restraints. Bad Form, bad form indeed.” Smiling he looked around the room, “Wow though crowd..hehehe.”
Clearing his throat he continued, “Okay folks what the plan hear them out since we’re a captive audience…” He paused, seemingly waiting for a response of some sort. “…really? Nothing? That’s why I never made it as a bard, but seriously where to from here?”
“We wait for them to open the door, and instead of rushing them and dying, we hear them out so that we can stay here.”
A giant Dire Wolf appeared out of nowhere. Raz recognized this as a Summoner’s trick. The wolf seemed to fade into the background almost as soon as it appeared. As if the human’s words were the cue, the door slammed into the Ogre’s hand, and then opened after the ogre backed up. As the door opened, the harsh light of a lantern painfully speared the captive’s eyes. Holding the lantern was a tall and mean-looking man with a large black beard and golden teeth, wearing a black trench coat and a red bandanna. A grimace that could hardly pass as a smile bruised his face, and he cracked the whip in his hand, yelling, “Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On yer feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap’n ’Arrigan flays yer flesh into sausage skins and ’as Fishguts fry ye up fer breakfast!” And with that, he turns sideways, as do three of the six burly-looking pirates holding saps, so that you can go past him.
Dozer begins to drool hungrily at the mention of what he thinks of as food “you have food little man?”
One-Gun put a hand on the ogre’s arm. “Ogre, ye may not want to anger them just yet. I’m sure there will be dinner fer all of us in a little bit. Stick with me and I’ll make sure you get fed.” With that he headed up on deck to embrace his future.
Dozer mutters " what care I of making little man mad…" but followed One-Gun up to the deck also
Dewshine stands with a smile dusting herself off and walks to the kitty boy and helps him up to follow the others to the upper deck. He’s still groggy and she ends up leaving without him.
“Well it’s a pirate’s life for me, I see.” Valdus said and turned to Sandra, “I look forward to seeing you in the light of day.” Turning to everyone else he said, “Come now we’re not dead yet, let’s get together and see where this adventure takes us.”
Valdus strided out trying to hide a gulp that his parents may have been more right about pirates than he wanted to admit. Now he just had to find his gear, the missing black blades, and the whereabouts of his folks.
Sandra Quinn, Rosie Cusswell, Conchobar, and Cog all followed Valdus. Three of the pirates were at the head of this little procession. The rest of them awaited the others’ reactions.
Jaimie gives a nod to the lizard man and quietly walked over to the door with the pirates, but at a pace that was acceptable. He headed up and tried to blend in and not be noticed. He averted his gaze from his captors unless asked a question directly. It failed to work too well as the pretty-boy received more than his fair share of leers. They weren’t anything that he couldn’t deal with, however.
Raz followed, introducing myself happily to pirate in charge, “name’s Raz, ready to work sir!”
The pirate in the black trench looks at Raz and says with a sneer, “The name’s MASTER Scourge. You can call me MASTER, or SCOURGE, or Death. I will happily reply to any of the three. Get your useless scaly arse up the stairs.” With a crack of a whip he shouts, looking at the cat and nagaji, “NOW!”
Ashriel jumped to his feet from the sound of the crack. One-Gun’s healing scratches under his ear seemed to have helped ease his massive headache, although the poison that had drugged the cat along with the rest of the new volunteers still running through his system. He feels a bit queasy and unfocused, but manages to move towards the door where he sees Raz in the doorway. As he moved toward it the boat lurched as a large wave struck the hull, causing the cat to become a bit top heavy sending him bouncing on one foot to catch his balance. He managed to get back on to both feet and drunkenly trudge for the door again. Just as he made it to the door, the meat pie rises to the occasion, spilling out on to Master Scourge’s perfectly polished black boots…followed by a hairball. Sickly, the cat turns his head up to see the infuriated boatswain’s face. Ashriel tried to look innocent, “I am mos’ sorry gov’ner. I’s be cleanin’ thi’ sup, right ‘way. Gi’me a chance, MASSA? I’s so sorry. It ne’er be happenin’ ‘gain. I be swearin’ it.” He began to take out a scarf from the pocket of his coat, and polish up the boots again. As he does this his loose shirt collar again reveals the heinous wound in his side.
Master Scourge kicked the cat-boy, and he fell to the ground. He said, “Oh, you’ll clean me boots jus fine. But it won’t be with yer ‘ands. Now, get topside ’afore I tell Cap’n ’es got a new fur rug in ’is cabin.”
When the reluctant new crew reached the main deck, it was quickly apparent that they were on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean, far from any land. Port Peril and the mainland of the Shackles were just an ocher haze many miles astern. Figures clustered around the ship’s mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand. One of them was a broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch— clearly the captain. The other was a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a well-used cat-o’-nine-tails.
The captives noticed that aside from the 11 that were in the hold, there were roughly 15 regular crew on the main deck. There were about ten official-looking pirates standing up the stairs, or directly at the foot of the stairs, clearly closer to being captain than the rest of the pirates below. They were surrounded on all sides, and there was a small opening around the main mast.
The Garundi man looked at Scourge, who held up one finger. With a nod, Scourge motioned to have Ashriel strapped to the mast. “This whelp showed insubordination in the ’old,” murmurs broke out that Scourge used such a large word, “As I don’t know if he’d die by the whip, he gets to keep his ’armor’… this once.” With a grimmace, breaks out his whip, and struck at the small figure, but missed, much to the amusement of the crew. Angered by this, Scourge struck out twice more, both making contact with the canvas of the shirt, but only one seemed to bite into the boy which put him on his knees. After they untie him, he is dragged back to where the rest were all standing. Scourge looked up to the Garundi man and noded.
“Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew. I’m Barnabas
Harrigan. That’s ‘Captain Barnabas Harrigan’ to you, not that you’ll ever need to address me. I have only one rule—don’t
speak to me. I like talk, but I don’t like your talk. Follow that rule and we’ll all get along fine. Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we’re still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There’ll be a keelhaulin’ for anyone caught killin’ anyone. Mr. Plugg! If you’d be so kind as to make pirates out of these landlubbers, it’ll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of ’em."
At the end of his speech, the captain walked away, leaving behind the man with the cat-o’-nine-tails. This was Mister Plugg, the Wormwood’s first mate. He looked down at the impressed captives and smiled unpleasantly. He walked down the stairs as the crew dispersed, and yelled, “Not you, you’re not allowed to leave just yet.” to the one or two prisoners that tried to leave.
“Now, I have a few tests to put you through, to see what you’d be, …… Best… suited for.” He said disinterestedly, looking all of the prisoners up and down. “Now, which one of you can cook? I am tired of eating baby whale vomit every meal.” He seems to eye the Ogre when he says this.
“Hey I am a good cook, and I love to make good food,” Dewshine said.
One-Gun heaved a huge sigh of relief. He could imagine the sorts of meals that the Ogre would fix and shuddered, even now, at the very thought. He looked around him at the beautiful day, the waves, the surging ship and just smiled. Sure, the crew were a bunch of cut-throat pirates, and the captain needed an Iron Colonic but, “this is the life, me hearties.”
Mr. Plugg snaped his head down from the Ogre’s face to the shortest one’s face. "You barely seem to have eaten a bug in your life. But we’ll see. Who knows? Maybe we’ll all find out what Gnome tastes like…. " And with that he jerked his thumb at the stairs going to the middle deck, where a portly, unkempt man in a grease-and-blood-stained apron could be seen. Upon his shoulder perched a large black bird. As Dewshine approached the man said in a very slurred manner, “mmhm, youre commn wif me, weve gotta get zdinnre on.” and swayed down the stairs, more than the ship’s rocking or a portly waddle would account for. She followed the cook, with a little sniff then wrinkled her nose at the cook, She dodged around him to make sure she wasn’t where he would collapse from his drink.
“Ok, for the rest of you, we’re going to see who is going to be a Rigger! and who’s gonna be a Swab, not only in name. Race to the Crows nest, the lot of you.” And with serpentine grace, he pulled the Cat-o-nine-tails and slapped it against the wall where he was standing, and gathered the tails up again into his off-hand.
Even with the late injury from the recent cat o’nine tails, Ashriel’s one good ear perked up hearing the command of “Climb”. With Reflex only found in a cat, he jumped to the rigging, just like his mum had taught him when evading a blood thirsty Erymithian boar by jumping to the Iron Pines and climbing as high as his arms could carry him. As he climbed now in the rigging, the gentle sea breeze blew in making him feel alive and in his place, despite the misty salt causing a burning sensation on his open wound. Ashriel paused for a moment to take in the view, and realized the rest of the volunteers were catching up. “Time to make ol’ mum proud,” he thought. There were one or two missteps, since climbing rope rigging on a surging rocking ship isn’t the same as climbing a tree, but he was off like a shot and up to the top of the crow’s nest before any of the others.
Dozer grunts and smiles climbing is fun and rushes up to the pole and begins his climb. He rose extremely quickly for one of his size, and was definitely the talk of the pirates that stopped their chores to see the trial. As he neared the top, the crossbeam cracked, and he felt that he should go back down, for a moment, but being the stubborn, competitive being he was, he forged onward to hit the crows nest, much to the disappointment of those that bet against you. Several gold coins changed hands.
Raz thinks to himself, “Physical stuff is meant for Silenth, but will give it a go…”
“Yes, sir, thank you sir,” Raz says charmingly to Scourge.
Though he had a late start he arrived third. Others slipped, but he did not, even though his climbing skills weren’t as good as some of the others.
The moment One-Gun set his hand to the lines he realized why he don’t like this part of the job. “Sure, I’m a great hand at most tasks required of me on a sailing vessel, but I’ve never been too good at climbing up in the rigging like a monkey.” he thought to himself. One-Gun got off to an amazing start, but lost his footing when he hit the crossbeam. He caught himself, to a “Feather-foot looks to be a little light for his shoes…” and lost his hand hold again, and dropped 15 feet before he caught himself in the ropes, “Looks like a dandy to me. You sure he said he’s a sailor?” But he finally made it up to the Crows Nest.
Jaime thought to himself, “If I fall I will try to fall overboard.” He fell but his foot gots caught in the rigging. “Looks like we have a new Cabin Slave, ’gents! Git that waif outta the ropes.” I continue to climb fast and try to make it to the top. If he continues to say I am going to be a cabin slave, I will jump off the boat into the sea while blowing my silent whistle. He continued to climb fast and try to make it to the top. Out of breath from exertion and fear, he made it to the top.
Valdus smiled, “A workout, sea & salt air, being a pirate should be fun!” He got a food caught in the rigging, but after he extracted it he was able to get to the top without too much more difficulty.
Valdus enjoyed the view crossing eyes with the cat-boy, “Good grief kit you are quick, what was your name again?” While waiting for the quickly less discombobulated cat-folk to spit it out he looked at the white walker, “Well don’t we look like white and dark meat on a seafood platter, well done I think I missed your name?” Then looking up at Dozer sitting in the crow’s nest, “Mighty Dozer you are just full of surprises! Fantastic!” Seemingly caught by the beauty of the view from up here he keeps his face tilted up but lets his eyes survey the Wormwood’s deck below.
Everyone saw the ship below. They saw the regular Swabs, and the gunners and the Gunnery Chief. They saw several possible tests, some painstakingly boring, others grueling, and others violently fun. They also saw a fearsome white whale breach a half-mile away.
Jaimie looked off at the sea and responded to Valdus. “The names Jaimie. We don’t have much time up here so I will save the introductions till later.” He continued to peer around and tried to stand in the middle of the crows nest as not to be seen. “You see my ride is somewhere nearby and I’ll be damned if I gotta stay here one second longer than I have to.” With that he holds his whistle up to his lips and blew it. No sound came out, but he continued to blow.
One-Gun was looking nervous and said, “You all have fun up here, but I plan on puttin’ my feet on the deck.” He then mumbled something about reasonable people and staying on the nice firm deck vs. the swaying bobbing insanity of the crow’s nest. “This is no place for a captain.”
Like the androgynous abating albino lad, Ashriel appeared like he is looking for something in the distance. He looked to the sternward horizon, the final remains of the port-town fading fast. He looked to the bow, then from side to side, first to port, then to starboard. He seemed like a curious fellow. Without making eye-contact, due to his searching, he still responded to the mage’s inquiry. “M’names Ash. Me mum calls me Ashriel; and my christened name is Ashriel Antitobar Hectorus Polonius Atrapalos. But me friends ca’o me Thrasha’ the Terror of Platform Town.” It was hard to take that last part seriously. It was pretty easy to see through his lie. For anyone giving the slightest bit of attention to his mannerism, it was easy to pick up the lie when he said, “Me friends…” This kid didn’t have friends. The only one who ever probably cared about him was his mum. The kit seems as transparent as the skin covering his heinous wound on his side.
Valdus smiled at Ashriel and said laying a friendly hand on his shoulder, “I’d be honored to call you Ash or Thrasha as well then my new friend.”
Ashriel finally spoted the black speck in the distance that he had been looking for. The sighting sent excitement from his neck down through his whole body. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. If he had a hat, he’d have thrown it high in the air with glee. The cat, looking over elated, couldn’t make up his mind whether to stay up in the Nest or come down. For the on-lookers below, he looked like a cricket being infused with arcane galvanic energy, popping up and down indecisively. Finally, he made his way down to meet Mr. Scourge taking the rope rungs two or three at a time.
Scourge called out at this point, “stop sitting in the nest like a gaggle of hens! Get back down here before I throw you all in the sweatbox. Since I don’t want to replace the mast and rigging every week, the Ogre’s out! Whipping boy, Snake man, and Bard-dandy are our new riggers! Everyone else, get a bucket.” And anyone that looks notices several buckets and mops, as well as other swab tools of the trade.
Scourge had a little speech prepared for everyone when they arrived back on the deck. “The Wormwood is a three-masted sailing ship, 100 feet long from stem to stern, and 30 feet wide amidships. The ship needs a minimum crew of 20, and presently has just in excess of that number, with you lot. If the crew falls below 20 people for any reason, the work becomes harder, and the work’ll get harder, so don’t be tryin’ my patience. I can kill some of you but not all.”he says with a grin. Interior walls on the ship are of wood, 2 inches thick. Interior rooms are unlit during the day, except for those with windows or portholes, and usually have a single hooded lantern for light at night, providing either normal or dim light – open flames are dangerous on a ship at sea. Many doors and chests are trapped to keep them off-limits to swabs and common sailors like you lot. Now, those that aren’t Riggers are me new Swabs. Riggers talk te MR Plugg. The rest’ll be doin the followin today…" And everyone else received their first job assignment for the day.
Being back on deck restored One-Guns good humor, and he smiled around at the rest of his crewmates, “Well, best be to work, me hearties. Dozer, try not to break anything while yer washing the deck…”
He gets a wicked gleam in his eye, “Hey dozer…bet you can’t wash the aft half of the ship faster than all the rest of us wash the fore!”
With that, he grabs a mop and gets to work.
Valdus paused to smile at Sandra, “Ma’am.” He grabed a bucket and a mop and went to work on the front of the ship, working his way back to start figuring out whom does what job. He tried to place names to faces and the like. Any time someone met his eye, he would smile regardless of sneer, grunt, curse or threat.
Ashriel squeezed himself between two large pirates in the line being formed by riggers awaiting orders. Ashriel erected himself to stand at attention. He began to look nervous, slowly scanning the other riggers on either side of him, wondering if he is doing what they’re doing. He tried to straighten myself to mimic the bloke on his right. He looked back at the shipmate on his left, and noticed that he is wearing a fine hat. He’d need a fine hat like that if he were to be a good pirate….