|
1 person marked this as a favorite.
|
|
Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap’n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!
The words seem overly loud. You awaken to the smell of salt and spray. Your head pounds from the merriment, noise and chaos of the Formidably Maid, the tavern of your revels...was it last night? Your head aches with the dull pain, like an oar was smashed on your head and the ringing has not quite stopped in your ears. Your mouth tastes of bitter and sweet all mixed together. The room sways. Is that the room itself or an after effect of the spicy food and spiced rum? It was rowdy night, even for Port Peril...
Don't make me fetch the boys to drag yah before the Cap'n. Unceremonious type o way to start your career on the Wormwood...
The harsh words come from a man in the doorway. Dirty light, some lantern, some sun, mix just enough to see a tall man with a black braided beard, long black coat, heavy boots and a menacing whip in his his hands. The red tone of his bandana threatens to be the only true color on his person as even his fingernails feature black paint of some kid. See HERE for a reference
You note that you are clothed but seem to be lacking you equipment. In turn each of you note that you have been roughly handled but seem to be intact.
The man menaces at you lazily with his whip indicating you are to rise and follow. He leaves little to the imagination as to what happens next if you fail to comply...
Let me know if you plan to resist or follow.