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Viewing Single Post From: Blood on the Breeze and Death in the Dirt
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Destroyer of (his own) worlds
Jack did not like the rain. Jack did not like the rain at all. His feet were getting wet and the crow's nest would have been filling up were it not for a few holes in the planks. Jack liked the water, he liked water just fine, but it was all or nothing. Jack either wanted to be swimming it, or dry as a bone. He wanted it soaking his entire being, or avoiding him completely. Jack did not want to be pissed on by some stupid cloud, with annoying flecks of cold water occasionally pelting him from above. Eventually, he decided to slip on his sandals again, and began walking aimlessly around the crow's nest, the only thing to keep him sane from the endless pitter-patter of rain being the squeaking of his feet as they rubbed over the wet leather of his sandals.

Jack looked in the distance and saw that they were approaching an island. This must have been the one Monkey was talking about. Rocks looked dangerous. Town looked dangerous-er. There didn't seem to be much room for swimming, but that wouldn't be a problem. Because it looked like that there was a warehouse for stealing. No -- more than one warehouse. Jack let his fingers curl over the edge of the crow's nest as he eyed the island up and down, and stared at the warehouses, wondering what was in them. Probably food and boring stuff. Still, they were worth checking out. He looked around the crow's nest for his crossbow and decided it was a bit unwieldy for this type of thing. He'd leave it up here, with Monkey, who hopefully wouldn't do anything stupid with it like trying to fire something with it.

Jack waited as he watched the island get closer and closer to the ship, watching the happenings below him down on deck. Bulwark certainly knew how to helm. Steer. Whatever. As the island got clearer and clearer, Jack began looking around at all the buildings, separating the brothels from the shops and trying to gauge what was inside the warehouses. There were crates. Interesting find. As they pulled into the harbour, Jack heard a whistle from down at the deck, and located its source easily. He glanced down at Yarba -- delicious, green Yarba -- and found her looking up at him. He quickly gave her a wave, wondering what she wanted. It was probably sex. He didn't have a big sword like Roul, though, all he had was a little dagger. It had a curve in it, though. Maybe that was something. Jack quickly hopped out out of the crow's nest and began climbing down the rigging, heading straight for Yarba.

The hiskrs were not particularly happy that they would be staying onboard. It would probably be for the best, however, as they had only ever been let off the ship and onto dry land to carry cargo, and with humans to guide them. They'd never even been to Brambledown before, and although the hiskrs had learnt how to buy things when they were being schooled for servitude, that was long ago. It would come back to them eventually, but now all they knew how to do was tie ropes, tend to a ship, and fight relentlessly. Even the concept of money had become almost alien to them, even though they had been paid in copper and seen gold and silver dealt around, they hardly knew its uses. Still, they wanted off the ship, but they kept their mouths shut and continued working. Yarba was certainly not someone they wanted to mess with.

Barrett had been counting and moving stock all morning, and although he couldn't feel or even see any of the rain, he felt the mood that came with it. Everyone was tired, and Barrett was no exception. Moving crates of shot and stock so that more crates could be revealed and counting stock was hardly the most thrilling part of his job, and it wasn't exactly the break he'd been hoping for. If he'd been doing this regularly, he might just have been able to switch off and let instinct take him, but stock was only counted near port or after battles. Sitting around doing nothing was hardly better, but the boys on the Seahorse had cards and gambled on their downtime. Barrett had almost opened his mouth a few times about it, but decided now was hardly the time to talk about betting coin, especially because he had none in his pocket. After a few hours, Barrett glanced out the window, and realised they were at port. Well, a port. He looked over at Gob, his eyebrows raised in a semi-hopeful, semi-expectant expression. Barrett had learned that things took a little longer on the Eel than they did on the Seahorse.

"Tell me Chook's finally got all those numbers sorted."

Lee woke up to a light hangover, and an odd stinging all over his body, as if he'd been bitten into by an albatross and then had the wounds cauterised. He put a palm to his forehead, trying not to frown as he did so, and remember that that was exactly what had happened. He glanced around, and found Steve already awake. Harold and Dennis were still recovering. Lee sat up slowly in his bunk, feeling the ship swaying slightly, almost as if it weren't moving at all. They must've been in port. "Steve?" he whispered, calling over to the man who was staring at the ceiling in front of him. Steve didn't respond. "Stevie!" Steve quickly turned to face Lee, a look of complete horror on his face.

"I could've sworn I was dreaming, mate," he said, shaking his head. Lee was just about to tell him his head hurt too much for this crap, but Steve was speaking again. "A harpy medic and her demon. Her face marked with liquid curses. The walls, they were wood but glowed a completely different colour. But it's not a dream. This wood --" Steve glanced up at the ceiling above him, and Lee could only roll his eyes. "-- this wood ain't our ship, and these cuts didn't heal themselves."

Lee sat up, rubbing one of his eyes, his legs dangling off his bed. "Yeah, look, you can fantasise about the winged lover of your dreams all you like later, but right now we need to go and see why the ship ain't movin'." He got down to his feet, and then tapped Steve on the arm. Steve simply looked up at him, seemingly in shock. Lee simply jerked his head at the door, and grabbed at his arm and tugged him up. Steve reluctantly complied, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up, shrugging Lee's hand off him and keeping behind him. They walked out the door and head to the nearest set of stairs, making their way up to the deck. Steve was shivering.
Edited by TheDoomsayer, Jul 25 2014, 07:56 PM.
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Blood on the Breeze and Death in the Dirt · Sea Travel and the Islands

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Please don't steal the original ideas of the players and characters as it is illegal and shows you have a lack of creativity.
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