FURYSTORM [Pirate themed RP]

[Kerrigan_dragon]

"Aye, sir," Keiran told Bass out of reflex, though she felt paralysed by shock. "Keiran is correct." She blinked slowly, having to mentally go through the conversation again to process it. He'd said yes. He'd laughed at her, yes, but not in a bad way. And he'd said yes. Some tension grasping her heart loosed itself and she slumped down in the chair she'd so quickly and boldly taken, relieved and excited for the future. A huge grin began to bloom on her face and she laughed softly. "Thank'ee kindly, sir." She stood quickly and grabbed a tankard of alcohol, not even caring what it was, from the nearest serving wench and told her thanks with a loony grin of joy and a wink, then sat back down and took a large swig, quickly discovering that it was ale mixed with whiskey. Normally she hated whiskey, but she was too exhilarated to care, and downed the drink as fast as the sweetest cocktail.

Putting down the tankard at last, she leaned back in her chair to observe Peeks. Keiran had been going to the Tavern long enough as a regular to know that Peeks was a force to be reckoned with indeed. She was probably the most beauteous of all the serving wenches at the Tavern, and suffered for it at times. Keiran had flirted with her a time or two, but only when she was in a good mood. Nothing serious of course, but a boy - or a girl posing as one - had to build a reputation. She thought mayhaps Peeks would recognize her face, but probably not know her name.

Watching Peeks was making her a bit self conscious, and she looked away, down at Bass's roster, and picked at her shirt a little. It was loose, yes, but she'd had it for a long time, and it was looser down near her stomach than at her chest, and it was annoying her. Depending on how long the Captain gave them to prepare, she could probably go out a buy several newer - and looser - shirts. She had a bit of money from doing odd jobs throughout the years. She hadn't really known what to save for, or what to buy, so it had just collected. Maybe she could also buy another pistol as well...

Though she was absorbed in her thoughts, she was dimly aware of a barfight going on. It involved the masked fellow she'd seen come in earlier, but she did as she usually did; ignored it unless it involved a serving wench (in which case she'd defend the girl), one of her friends (which was impossible, seeing as she HAD no friends), or came too close. It was a little harder than usual, of course, as most people didn't... sing like that... or talk about things no one had heard of...

Keiran's train of thought instantly broke as the stranger put an arm around her and told one of his opponents that he was going to "make fancy" with her. She jerked away from him, instantly curling her hand into a fist in case he tried to touch her again, and reaching with her other hand into her sleeve to pull out her pistol and keep it pointed at him as he continued taunting the drunken man until he sent him on his way.

"Ye might be wantin' to never touch me again," she snarled at the strange man as he walked near her again, but only to talk to Captain Bass. She was hoping he'd just been joking to get the drunk man disorientated... but a man with a mask was not to be trusted either way. She kept her pistol trained on him and her fist at the ready, while shifting her body slightly to be able to either attack or dodge him.  

[xDarkPisces]

Otho was preparing to take the man's silence as an invitation to sit when the odd, acrobatic chap dropped from the rafters to address a rather attractive serving wench. Otho watched in amusement as the girl was taken off guard and then instantly distracted by the purple-haired bloke.

The hair was so violently purple, Otho almost mistook it for a wig, as it stuck out rather blatantly amongst the dull browns and grays of the shabby pub goers around him. The dim light shone off his musty overcoat like a spotlight, and suddenly it seemed as if every eye was trained on him. Otho too felt his attention focus solely on the purple-haired fellow. And who might you be, sir? Some renowned, well-traveled sea slave? What have you seen that we haven't? What worlds lie out there? And treasures too? Or are you just a dreamer like the rest of us? Tethered to this spit of sand like dogs with our misfortune...

To be honest, the man looked like a ship's captain. His embellished mannerisms matched his embellished getup, which further piqued Otho's curiosity. Finally, the urge rose to breech, and Otho stood from his chair, nodding politely to the still silent man sitting across from him. "Guess my curiosity pulls me elsewhere, eh?" he said briefly before turning towards the purple-haired man.

"Oi! What is your name, sir?" Otho called to the man above the dull roar around him. He made his way carefully around the various chairs, tables, and drunks, toward the table where the the captain sat with a much younger looking boy.  

[Sentama Lin]

Adrian (Played by Sentama Lin)

He's the navigator and sharpshooter of enemies, and hearts, of the Furystorm's crew. He seems unhumanly capable of navigating, whether it be the stormy seas, the bustling towns, or the undergarments of some enthralled lad or lassie. If he was asked what his best assets were, he would list these three things: my intelligence, my chivalry, and, of course, my skills with my weapon.

-----
Adrian sipped his tankard of wine, his eye lazily glancing over the beautiful wenches, and the more-attractive lads, of the tavern. Hungman's Tavern was where he was today, and hung he was, in many ways. Mapmaking and civil engineering could only become so interesting. Now that the bustling city was well developed, his duties were reduced to signing lease exchanges and listening to fat and rich politicians arguing. Long story short, his job was dying, and so was his spirit.

The advertisement caught his eye, and he smiled, standing up. He knew about this purple-haired lad right away; it was rather hard to miss him in a place so dinged in earthly browns. Carrying the tankard with him, he walked over to where the captain sat and sat down at his table, uninvited, and beamed a warm smile that would, he felt, melt the coldest of hearts, and loosen the tightest of undergarments.

"You need a navigator. And you also need a sharpshooter. I can fulfill those roles, and many more." Were the only words that left his mouth. He spoke in a tone a bit too tinged in etiquette for a pirate, but he felt that his special oral skills will also contribue greatly.  

[CR Kyrie]

The next few moments housed some interesting and extremely unusual spectacles. While it was perfectly normal to see steel brandished in the heat of passion, it wasn't so normal to witness a man with a full face mask act as if he were possessed by Satan himself, bouncing around and jumping from the ceiling as if he were a child. He should be arrested by the constable for assault and disturbance of the peace, Alucard decided. And then he laughed; everyone here should be arrested for disturbance of the peace.

Another oddly dressed fellow approached him, though this one seemed far more mature. He also, however, seemed somewhat distracted, for he didn't even give Alucard a chance to respond to his inquiry at the vacancy of a seat before running off to another corner of the pub. The drunk had been drinking long enough to know how to control himself when need be, and his eyes followed the boy, steady as he made his way to a purple-haired man in the corner.

"Excuse me, lads," Alucard said to his tablemates, who had already forgotten him by the time he stood. He was proud of himself as he made his way toward the purple-haired man; in his mind, he didn't even stumble once, though in reality it was probably a battle. During his trip across the way, he heard tell of a captain and his ship, looking for a crew.

This seemed like a good idea, as Alucard was indeed in need of a career path, not to mention a job, both of which being a deck hand provided. Not to mention the great dental benefits of sailing. And the scurvy. Beautiful scurvy. Putting two and two together, the drunk decided that the man at the table was the captain, and that he would charm his way onto the ship.

"'Ey, 'ey, yooou. . ." he said to the man who had left him so quickly, "If'n ye'd let me speak, I would 'ave let yer sit wit' me and me mates, harr. . . but then I'd 'ave been leavin, ye see, because. . . because I were gonna ask this man if'n I could be joinin 'is ship, aye? So. . . so watch out."

He chuckled to himself; Alucard viewed himself as a badass. He was so intimidating. Without a doubt.  

[invisible-weirdo]

Mina signed her name at the bottom of the crew roster. The letters were rather big and flowy (especially the M) but she couldn't help it; A good majority of her childhood was spent learning to be 'proper' and useless things like that and it was most evident in her speech and writing. It might make her a bit strange for a pirate, but she felt her other skills would more than make up for it.

Mina took pride in "being good with my hands," as she usually put it. Much of the last several years were spent as a rather skillful thief, though she rarely ever kept the purloined goods since lugging around masses of stolen items did not suit a nomadic lifestyle such as hers. Sometimes she would steal for money, which would usually go straight towards alcohol, clothes, or weapons, and other times, when she would steal just for the hell of it, Mina would sneak the item back to its owner before he ever noticed. Each act of theft was almost like a game to her and she rarely ever swiped anything with malicious intent. She was also pretty good in a fight, preferring hand-to-hand combat to use of firearms (though if the situation called for it, she would). Her aim was also surprisingly good despite her only using one eye (the other, while still working, had been injured in a bar fight a few years back. She claimed the eye threw her aim off and wore a patch because of it). And of course was her ability to knock back more than a few.

She grabbed a tankard of ale just as a fight broke out between a rather strange masked man who had fallen from the rafters and a couple of drunkards. Mina couldn't help but laugh at the whole scene. The masked man was fighting like a madman, singing at random intervals and speaking of pure nonsense.

Mina took a large swig from her tankard and eventually decided it was time to introduce herself to Bass. Ale still in hand, she casually walked up to him with her usual roguish smile on her face. "Captain? The name's Mina and I'll be joining your crew," she said rather matter-of-factly.  

[YunieCookie]

Lethe paused before standing up. Ask and you shall recieve indeed.. she thought as a strange masked man hung by ankles from the ceiling, and then proceeded to engage in a bar fight. She settled back into her chair for a few minutes to watch.

Meanwhile, quite a crowd had gathered around the purple-haired Captain.
"Might as well see what the fuss is about," she muttered, taking a final failed sip and gazing quizzically at her glass. She strode over to the notice posted on the wall and read it through, tilting her head. Her gaze flicked the small crowd around the odd man, "Bass, aye?" She read down the list of names scrawled around the page, and decided to add her own before slipping through the tavern to take a seat close enough to the crowd she could hear what was going on, but not quite close enough that she'd likely be addressed by any part of it.  

[Bassios]

Captain's post

(( Apologies for taking control of your characters briefly in this post, I started writing it and it quickly became obvious I needed to have a reaction from your characters. Also, hueg post is hueg. ))

Bass grinned and took another swig of his ale, whilst he wasn't expecting the serving girl to jump at his first offer, he wasn't expecting such hostility from her either. He set his pint down with a chuckle, "Now, now, lass, calm down. I'm only jokin'. Yer welcome on me crew, as long as you d'rect that rage on anybody that stands between the Furystorm an' her booty. What's yer name, lass?" Her face softened slightly, but she was still clearly very weary of Bass, especially seeing as he was on his fourth pint. "The name be Peeks" She was short with him, still annoyed with how she had been treated in the Hungmans by the other drunks.

He took another swig from his ale just as a bar brawl broke out. Some strange man that had been dangling from the rafters had decided to teach the local drunkards a lesson. And quite well too, he had already knocked out one and had managed to convince the other to leave things be. He approached Bass, "My name is Lex, I would like to join your crew. do I need to pass any test of some kind?" "I'd fair say you passed any test I could throw at you with that show, Lex." Bass scrawled Lex's name down on the roster, making a note beside it.

"Oi! What is your name, sir?" Someone approached Bass, a strange man with incredibly spiky hair. "Hmm? The name's Bass. An' you are?" Bass shifted on his stool slightly. "I, sir, am Otho. Why the sudden popularity?" His words were clean and refined, unlike almost everyone else in the Hungmans. "That be b'cause I be lookin' fer a crew fer my ship. If all goes accordin' t' me plan, we be settin' sail before the week ends. The more the merrier, if'n ye feel like signin' up"

Another man approached Bass, again speaking in a clean and refined manner. "You need a navigator. And you also need a sharpshooter. I can fulfill those roles, and many more." Bass turned to him, looked him square in the eyes before speaking again, "Aye, a ship's no good if we don't know where to point it. What's yer name?"

A drunkard stumbled after Otho, exclaiming something or other. Bass was too busy talking to the potential navigator to listen until the drunk man pointed at Bass. Someone else wanting to join the crew, no doubt. Another two people walked up to Bass at almost the same time, both women. I hit the motherlode, today, methinks. They introduced themselves ans Mina and Lethe, and both asked to join the crew. After the standard name asking and scrawling, Bass stood up and called for attention in the bar.

"Right, I've gots things to do now, but for those that be plannin' on joinin' me crew, I expect ye outside the Furystorm in two days. I know it's a bit short notice, but honestly? I just want ta get goin' b'fore too much time passes" With that, he downed the last of his ale (there was surprisingly less than he thought there was) and left.

(( IMPORTANT: Your next post should end with you meeting up outside the Furystorm in two in-game days. smile Have fun with the time you've got for your characters ))  

[pickle relish]

Peeks went to inform the Hungman's proprietor of her decision, glad to get away from the drunken captain. Part of her was doubting her decision, thinking she had traded one job full of drunken men for another, but she pushed those thoughts away. If all else failed, at least the ship would take her to a different town. She heard Bass yell something about leaving in two days, and nodded to herself. Two days was more than enough. There wasn't much for her to take care of. All her relatives were dead, and she had no friends to speak of. After speaking to the owner, who was more than willing to let her go, she left for the small room she rented from a local widow.

It didn't take much time for her to pack up her belongings. Most of the things in the room belonged to the widow, a kindhearted but lonely woman who enjoyed the serving maid's company. All that really belonged to Peeks was her clothing, and a small box of her parents' possessions.

She spent that night talking with the old woman, and listening to stories about her parents. Her father had been a sailor, her mother a bar maid. Her father had died at sea shortly after Peeks was born, leaving her mother to raise her on her own. She became sick around the time Peeks turned twelve, and died shortly afterward. But the old woman had known her parents as children, and told all sorts of stories about the mischief they got into. Peeks fell asleep in front of the fire, listening to the old voice.

In the morning, she ran some errands, some for the widow, some for herself. She spent the last of her money and called in a few favors in order to buy what she deemed "necessities" for her new station in life. Her knife alone would not be enough to protect her, anymore.

She slept her last night in the widow's house, and in the morning, packed up her things and headed for the docks.

((Horrible post is horrible. But, I successfully created a backstory, and managed to get through the two days. Yay me.))  

[CR Kyrie]

Though the purple-haired man didn't exactly take his name, Alucard was satisfied that the captain understood he'd have a position on the ship. With that, the group seemed to disperse, and the drunk returned to his table of friends-for-the-night, drinking and having a merry time. When closing time came, he made his way out into public, and probably did some really crazy things. All he knew was that he woke up the next afternoon, naked, in a fountain somewhere. A very angry constable was standing over him with his clothes in hand.

Public Indecency hadn't been created yet, really, and so he got off easy. One night in the lockup. As he sobered up, and as his ensuing hangover passed (too slowly), he started noticing his facial hair. And it itched. Alucard decided that he didn't like being sober.

He spent the next night in the 'brig', and in the morning was released with a reprimand from the law. If he was caught passed out without clothes on again, he wouldn't see the outside of those walls again. Quietly thanking the rather rotund man that held the keys to his freedom, Alucard paid his regards to his new prison buddies and left the premises.

At home, he packed up a single-shot, black-powder pistol, a bag of black powder, some extra bullets, and some clothing. In another bag, he put as much alcohol as he could. He would need it until he got shore leave, after all. And he'd decided he didn't like being sober; he'd wait until he got on board to start drinking again, but once one of the tops on the bottles was popped, the fun wouldn't stop. Whistling a little tune to himself, the craftsman found his way to the Furystorm, and sat on the dock, waiting for everyone else to show up.  

[Sentama Lin]

"I'm Adria --" He said, trying to give the captain his name, but there were too many people surrounding the poor purple-haired man. With a sigh, he combed his fingers through his hair as he walked out the door. He was about to give up on the offer when he heard the captain announce to get ready in two days. "Two days... it'll clear the drunkards who just went to the captain and will forget about it in the morning... I still have a chance." He thought to himself, walking out the door, yawning, heading home.

His residence was a flat provided to him by the government, and it was well-groomed and well-furnished. He ignored, for now, the gardener who groomed his lawn, pulling out weeds and trimming grasses and twigs. He also ignored a bow from the head maid (or, at least, didn't say hello and just asked for a light dinner to be brought upstairs). He simply went to his room and closed the doors.

He spent that night taking care of his weapon, holding the wood gingerly with his fingertips. He dabbed his fingers in a bit of oil and began stroking up and down the staff slowly, deliberately, feeling the smooth shaft become smoother and more pliable with each movement of his hand. He wiped it down with a clean rag and paid attention to the shaft, rubbing there with some oil as well, cleaning it, a pleased sigh leaving his lips. In a few hour's time he had his bow and a quiver of arrows ready, well oiled, newly feathered, and ready for action. Panting, pleased with his work, he rested for that night.

The next day was filled with arguing and more arguing from the politicians and the city officials when he announced that he would be resigning. As much as he told them that he wasn't really needed anymore, they didn't seem to listen. In fact, it seemed they just kept arguing, mainly to themselves, for the point of arguing. He furrowed his brow, wasting a whole half-day, set his resignation letter and the Office Signet Ring on the receptionist counter, and walked off. He enjoyed a scone and a spot of tea before heading to bed, early, that night.

He strapped the bow and quiver to his back and grabbed a rucksack of rations, an extra outfit, some castille soap, and some money. Heading out the door, he waved to his house and ran toward the docks, nodding at the people already there.  

[xDarkPisces]

Otho nodded his assent to the captain, then turned toward the Hungman's main bar, where sat an old friend, slumped over the gritty counter in a half-drunken stupor. Otho approached him slowly, noticing an empty sheath at the man's left hip. Strange... Ol' Gerabbi always keeps his dagger with him... Suddenly, sensing his presence and seeming to read his mind in the same instant, Gerabbi sat bolt upright, tipping his bar stool backwards dangerously, and grunted a reply, "'Sright here, me boy. Lil' Jack tweren't never good to nobody in 'is sheath. Likes the warm o' me palm, he does."

"Aye, I suppose he does," came Otho's simple reply. "How are you keeping, old man? Don't suppose you could-"

"Shhhh..." The old hermit cut Otho short with a hiss and a wave of his hand. "Not here, boy. In back. Foller me." He got up and stumped lazily through the pub's backroom door, leading the way into a dusty cellar, which was packed to the molding with bottles and crates of God-knows-what. "I heard, an' I know why yer came t'me. Yer be wantin' the amulet, don'tcha?" Gerabbi growled the last word like a curse, narrowing his eyes at the much smaller framed Otho, who stood stock still, defensive as he always was around unpredictable folk.

"It is... necessary for my purposes. If I plan to get rich off this pirate, I need to make sure I live to collect whatever he's after, make sense?"

"Aye, aye, that it does. Jus'... be sure yer careful with it, righ'? Wouldn't wantcha losin' yerself in its grasp."

"You've gone soft with delusions of fantasy, old man," Otho retorted with a friendly smile. "Have confidence in your apprentice. I'll get what's coming to both of us, and you'll be sipping fine rum from expensive crystal in no time."

"Take care of yerself, boy. Losin' you..." the old man broke off and wiped his eyes. Then he fished in his grimy coat pocket and withdrew a small ball of burlap. Otho accepted it from the man's outstretched hand, noting its distinct warmth against his skin, and pocketed it carefully. "I'll keep it safe, Gerabbi." Then he turned and left the old drunk standing alone in the storage room, left the pub with its noisy patrons, and headed straight for his hut, which was positioned near the outskirts of town, tucked between two shops.

Otho spent the next 36 hours gathering light supplies into a small pack, consisting of a bit of emergency food, a flask for drinking, flint, a whetstone for his swords, and a few other odds and ends he deemed necessary for his trip. He kept the amulet hidden from sight, wrapped in the very burlap in which he had received the odd piece of jewelry.

He slept a bit, though it served only to frustrate him as he grew more and more anxious about the voyage ahead of him. He tossed and turned on his modest cot, thinking about the figures he'd seen grouped around the purple-haired captain in the pub. Such an odd group... If they're to be my fellow crew, I might have my work cut out for me. They all seem likable though. Odd, but likable. These thoughts were often followed by broken dreams of high seas and thespian adventure, of far-off places and people. The Furystorm slicing the water like a great beast, the purple-haired captain at her helm. You can take me there, Captain Bass, but can you be a leader? It is a great undertaking, and all of it rests on your shoulders. Let us all hope that they're broad enough to accept the weight.

Otho woke with a start, sitting bolt upright on the floor beside his cot. He yawned and stretched, feeling the skin on his face tighten from exposure to the morning sun through the open window of his hut. Glancing outside, he hoped it was earlier in the day than it felt. If it is to be, then the Furystorm will be waiting there for me, he thought to calm his nerves as he gathered his pack and a bit of spare gold.

He left his hut and walked to the clockmaker's shop to the left of him. He called to the old woman behind a dusty workbench through the shop's open window. "I'm leaving for a few days, Hilda. Rent my hut to someone who can pay your rent on time, yeah?" He smiled and chuckled, leaving a few gold coins on the window sill before heading off toward the docks.

The familiar smells assaulted his nose as Otho once again made his way down the main street. His target, the Furystorm, cut an impressive silhouette against the morning sky, with her folded sails rippling anxiously in the sea breeze. As Otho approached, he saw a the a number of others were gathering at the dock beside the Furystorm. Otho smiled a pleasant smile and approached, keeping his greetings to a simple "Good morning."  

[Kerrigan_dragon]

(This post is for myself and Viral. Though it's from Kerian's perspective. x3)

Keiran thanked Bass before the man left the bar, leaving her to her own thoughts as she left slowly after him. What to do in two days? she thought. Trying to think of what needed to be done, she didn't really pay attention to where her feet were taking her, until she bonked her nose against the door of her home. Rubbing her nose irritably, she pressed against the door with one shoulder, pushing it up a bit, and opened the door with her free hand. The door was old and sagged, to the point where one couldn't open it without knowing the trick, or breaking it down completely.

Stepping inside, she looked around her home with a sigh. It wasn't really a house at all, just a run down shack tucked between a couple of old houses. It was in a part of town that almost no one visited, not even the most daring of souls tended to come here. It wasn't that the area was dangerous, at least not from the threat of people. It was tucked away in a corner, along a shoreline so rocky not even fish could swim in it. The current was odd around the entirety of the town; there was a very small current that brought all the town's waste to collect in these waters, the "Sewage Lagoon" as it was so fondly nicknamed. Most people couldn't stand the smell, and only the people who were truly desperate came to live there. The dangerous part of living here was the threat of falling in the water, and getting impaled on the sharp rocks that lurked there, or drowning in the filthy liquid.

Opening the door to the tiny bedroom at the back of her little shack, which contained only a trunk and a bed (not because she couldn't afford more, but simply because nothing more would fit), Keiran sighed and prepared to flop onto her bed and fall asleep... but stopped in surprise as she saw the masked man from the bar – Lex, she remembered – was lying on her bed as comfortably as if he belonged there. “Oh... hi. Home so soon?” he asked.

“What in blazes?” she exclaimed in surprise, backing up a bit before regaining her balance. “What are you doin' in my house? And in my bed, at that? How did you get here? How did you find my house? Get out! GET OUT NOW!” Despite yelling at him, the man just lay there happily.

“We just became crewmates, and that's how you talk to me?” he asked in a mock-offended tone. “Also, this isn't your home. You're mistaken. Your home has been forfeited for the sea, aye? And why else would I be here than to get acquainted! I found your house through a bit of thinking and a bit of chance, that's all. I thought to myself; I need a place to stay for a couple nights. And why not with my crewmate Keiran!”

Keiran just stared agape at him for a moment, not knowing quite what to say. After an exceedingly long pause, she sighed wearily and went to open her trunk to start packing, having to awkwardly lean over Lex to do so, but he seemed unwilling to move. She was unwilling to use up any energy for fighting, and just resigned herself to having a roommate for a while. Besides, if he'd wanted to kill her, he'd probably have done it already. “Well, whatever, then. I'll be living with you soon enough anyways. Welcome to my humble home. It's not much... and that's about it.” She didn't even have the energy to keep up the accent she'd used in the tavern, which would probably come back to bite her in the a** later, but she was too tired to care. She went to the main room of her home and began sorting through what kinds of cooking supplies might be needed. It was always best to be prepared. “It's been hard getting money without a steady job, so my lifestyle isn't exactly grandiose.”

“Oh aye, indeed, I see that,” Lex replied. “You can tell from the state of your clothes alone. Very old and ragged and thin and a little tight and small, even. One can tell many things from clothing of that caliber.” He grinned under his mask. Keiran did her best to ignore him, but as she continued to pack her few useful and valuable possessions away, he continued to taunt her and make inferences towards her gender, and she did her best to continue all appearances of a young boy who had no idea what he was talking about. The longer it went on, the shorter her temper was getting, however. Luckily, by the time she was contemplating shooting him or herself with her gun, she didn't really care which at this point, a fit of insanity seemed to take him, and Lex sauntered out the door, muttering something about a choir calling to him.

The next day Keiran spent her time going about the town, buying new clothing with a looser fit and some more weaponry and ammunition for her guns. She finished packing her trunk, and was thankful that she didn't see Lex that day at all. It was relaxing, and gave herself time to say goodbye to the few people she thought might care. The next morning, she lugged her trunk out of her little shack and brought it to the dock where the Furystorm lay.

On the deck of the ship there lay a bundle of rags and a rotted half barrel, and in this strange nest, if anyone were close enough to look at the moment, lay Lex, sleeping merrily.  

[invisible-weirdo]

Two days? What am I supposed to do in two days? It wasn't like she really had to get any affairs in order. She had no longtime friends or family members to bid farewell to; she had already pretty much done that years ago. She spent that night wandering around town until she ended up back at the house (it was more of a shack, really) she had been renting a room from for the few weeks she was here. Years ago, the house had apparently acted as servants quarters for a wealthy family that had for the most part abandoned the town a long time ago. The only one left was a nasty old woman, a bit wrong in the head, that lived in her family's old house just down the road. She was bitter, all sorts of paranoid, almost never left the house, and had ridiculous conditions for renting a room (never setting foot within 17 feet of the house, leaving the rent in a pouch hidden in an old birdhouse in the almost jungle-like yard, something about every other cobbled stone, nonsense like that).

Mina had to squeeze past the half open door to the shack; the door was just barely hanging on its rusted hinges and she really didn't want to deal with having to pay that daft old woman for the door. The only light she had was moonlight streaming from gaps in the roof so Mina was forced to stumble in the dark, dodging the odd rat here and there, until she reached the lumpy aged cot in the corner of the room. She unceremoniously threw herself down on the fairly uncomfortable bed and slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next day was spent floating around the town. She stopped by a few bars, bought some reserve weaponry (a couple run-of-the-mill knives and a pistol, just in case), extra clothing, and the like. The morning after, before heading to the docks, she left her last rent payment and a goodbye/explanation note for the old woman. She took her things down to the docks and looked upon the Furystorm with the usual smirk on her face. "Oh I wish you could see me now, Pop," she said under her breath.

((Thar, I posted. 'Tis crap, but oh well sweatdrop ))  

[YunieCookie]

((Yes, yes, I know... Late post is uber late... Thanks for not killing me xD))

Lethe watched her new captain leave the pub, and turned to take another seat. Her previous one unavailable, she simply glanced around to find another before finding an unoccupied one and sliding into it. She spent the rest of that day in the Hungman's, pondering this excitement and eavesdropping on other patrons' tales. Not to mention, of course, having a couple of drinks for perspective and to make stories more interesting.

Late that night (or early the next morning? She wasn't sure), she made it back home to her rooms above Hollowhill's bakery and fell into bed.

She spent the next day informing the baker and his wife that she was leaving on the Furystorm next morning, checking her sword and other various weapons were in good condition, mending what clothes needed it, and procuring replacements for those that were beyond mending.

After her final night's sleep above the bakery, she packed what she needed and walked down to where the Furystorm was docked, smiling at the others already waiting there.  

[Bassios]

Captain's Post

After leaving the Hungman's Tavern, Bass made his way to the Furystorm. I'm gonna be livin' here for the next God-knows-how-long, I might as well get used ta sleepin' here. The captain's room wasn't ostentatious, but it did have a higher class to it than the other cabins. The room was roughly square with a cot on the left side of the room covered by curtains for privacy. It was too late for Bass to actually take in any more information than that about to room after 5 pints of ale, and a longer walk than he'd figured in the early hours in the morning. As soon as his head hit the pillow he fell straight to sleep.

He awoke with a start, for a moment completely bewildered. After a quick wash (which consisted of nothing more than a quick swim in the freezing seawater) Bass decided he was sufficiently sober and awake to get on with sorting the ship out. A quick check of the hold revealed exactly what he suspected, completely empty. Thankfully, he had enough money left over to buy supplies. Later that day, after several wallet-lightening shopping trips the ship was fit for living in. Stocked to the brim with food and water, bandages, splints, ammo and booze (for the post-conquest parties, or just for relaxing). There was still enough time to buy anything he'd missed, so Bass made triply sure that nothing had been missed, even though something was guaranteed to crop up later on in the voyage. Sufficiently pleased with his management skills, Bass settled into his cot for a good sleep before his new crew arrived in the morning.

Early morning came with a shock, for a second Bass was convinced he'd over-slept. He glanced out of the door quickly, it was still early. Which meant he had a bit of time to prepare himself before the crew arrived. Except, he could hear voices. Hm. They're early. Grabbing his hat, Bass strode out onto the deck of the ship to look over the collection of sea-souls that had gathered. There weren't that many, so he waited until he was certain that most, if not all, of the prospective crew were there before he launched into the speech he'd been preparing.

"Well then, my friends! Welcome t' the Furystorm! First off, I'd like to clear somethin' up. Yes, me name be Bass, an' no, I won't be discussin' it.

"Wi' tha' out the way, I'll say this: This be yer last chance to leave before the next port. Whilst I have got meself a map, I can't promise you that we'll be hittin' the jackpot on the first voyage." He paused for a minute to let anyone leave. "Now then, ALL ABOARD!" He yelled the last part and laughed as his new crew made their way up the wooden walk way onto the deck of the ship.

(( And now the journey begins. This turn can be for getting to know other members of the crew, finding your bunk, or anything else you can think that your character would do as soon as the get on the ship. Next turn we'll (hopefully) get underway. biggrin ))