Far cry from home

[Roger Smith]

It had been a long, hard road...but maybe in the end it just might all be worth it. A gloved hand adjusted the angle of his hat, pulling the sharply-pointed brim back around to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun, riding high in the sky on the coat-tails of noon. He let the fingers of his right hand remain lightly on the edge of his hat's brim, keeping it steady in the face of a light breeze that sprang up, while the open palm of his left hand rested on the pommel of a saber sheathed at his hip.

"Aye...looks like I might've finally found jus' the place to settle down for a spell." A broad grin broke out onto his face, his angular features making the expression look positively monstrous, like a mad beast that had just spied easy prey. Dropping his hand from the brim of his hat, the black-clad man rolled his neck on his shoulders, eliciting a series of sharp pops and cracks that didn't sound at all pleasant, and indeed the grin on his features broke into a grimace. "Aaah....a good bit o' rest before gettin' back on the trail again might do these old bones some good."

He turned an accusing eye up toward the sky, the glare of the sun shining just shy of the bottom of his eyes. "....and gettin' outta the sky's glarin' great eye for a while might not hurt, either...." he grumbled. "'Go see what's in the other 'Verses 'round the place with yer own eyes, Cap'n, and bring us back some grea' honkin' advice on where to hit first'....I'm a blasted idiot, I am, fallin' for that..."

Mumbling and grumbling to himself at his folly, the so-called captain strode forward, down a hill and toward the humble-looking village in the distance. "Bah...be lucky if me crew hasn't up and scarpered with the ship and the supplies we'd already gotten firm hold of..." In stark contrast to his foul mood and dark musings and predictions, he seemed positively lighthearted and almost happy. "Bunch of filthy, thievin' dogs they are...should've never taken 'em on board anyway. Liable to get themselves caught sooner'n later without a level head around to keep 'em on track."

He threw back his head and laughed, a deep, hearty noise. "Aaaah....good riddance to the lot of 'em, I says...good riddance." His grin returned in earnest, and he adjusted the angle of his pointy-brimmed hat to a far more rakish angle, threw out the shoulder-cape flowing over his left arm with a flair, and redoubled his stride. "Right then....mayhap a cool drink while me mood's up, before a nice lie-down for some rest...then back to the sea when the sun rises on the morrow!"

[Roger Smith]

It was the affair of only a few short hours for the good captain's purposeful stride to carry him along the gently-rolling hills, through grass and around the occasional mud puddle or ditch and into the outskirts of the village. And right away, he strolled up in as amiable fashion as he could to the first person he saw. "Pardon me, there, good sir, might I trouble ye for a question or two?"

The man in question, a rather stout, burly-looking fellow who had been busily unloading wood from a cart, turned a weather eye on the newcomer, and with a quick up-and-down sliding of his eyes, seemed to have seen and learned all he needed to form an opinion that produced the purse-lipped scowl and crinkled ridge of eyebrows that his expression folded into. He straightened up, dusting dust and wood splinters from his hands as he did. "Don't reckon I've got any reason to say no, stranger...what's on your mind, then?"

"Well, like I said, mate, just a pair o' questions." Touching a hand to his chin, as if in thought, he tilted his head back slightly as if appraising the other man in turn, possibly just to unnerve him. "First-like...yeh wouldn't happen to know whereabouts the gate back to the Nexus is from these parts, now, would ya?"

The man removed his cap, scratching at a hairline that was rapidly receding from the front of his head, his scowl momentarily fading into a grimace of what was either a strong urge to use the restroom, or rarely-used memory being called up. "The Nexus gate....don't have much use for it, myself, but....think it's out west-a-ways, maybe a day or two's good solid march if you're in a hurry."

"Ah, well then, that's a good job...I feared I'd gone clear off course entirely. Not exactly in familiar waters out here, as it were." The good captain spread his lips in a smile, showing off the pointed teeth in his maw in a gesture probably not as charming as it might have been. "Thanks very much, mate...and as for that second question I mentioned..." He leaned in slightly closer, as if about to share something positively scandalous or conspiratory. "....where's a fellah to go if he's after a good drink?"

For a brief moment, the suspicious look faded from the stout man's expression, replaced with a twinkle in his eyes as he pointed a thumb down the street toward the main part of town. "Head right on down yonder ways, just a few minutes on into tow. Place called Rutherman's Tavern. Can't miss it, it's right on the main street."

Putting on a smile that was genuinely charming, the good captain placed a hand to his hat in a gesture of respect, inclining his head. "Thanks very much, mate. Don't let me keep yeh from your work any more'n I have, now." Turning smartly on one heel, Crow went off deeper into the town, a new spring in his step with the knowledge he was at least on course to get back to familiar ground.

[Roger Smith]

Finally out of the heat and in sweet, wonderful shade, the mood of the good Captain Crow had improved dramatically. Just a few short minutes before, he'd been all but ready to curse the sun and everything it shone on, and had to put on more than a minor act with the gentleman he'd spoken to for directions. Now, though...here in the relative darkness -- at least compared to that insufferable glare out of doors -- and with a nice cold mug of ale in hand, and another already down the hatch, the gravel and sand had been kicked out of his voice and mind, and he was taking a well-earned respite before setting out on the remaining portion of his crew-facilitated sojourn.

It wasn't that he particularly faulted his crew for wanting to get rid of him. If he was being entirely honest, he'd wanted to dump the lot of them from the get-go, himself. They were a bunch of drunkards, imbeciles and violent louts, the entire lot of 'em. No flair for the dramatic, no desire for anything in this fresh new landscape of the Omniverse... Still stuck in that boring old notion. If it glittered, and they didn't have it, they wanted it. It wasn't entirely worthless in these parts, of course, but it paled in any sort of value to Omnilium.

A faint smile curled at the corners of the good captain's lips as he set his tankard down, letting his fingers slide over the table to a small pouch of coin near to it. He'd taken the time to count it and judge its value as near as he could guess. Back home, before this whole Omniverse business...this would've been enough for a right pleasant night on the town, at most. Here, though, with a few little "additional" pieces that wouldn't be worth a pint of bilge back home....it might just be worth a fair bit more than that.

The small little pouch, which he'd taken the liberty of relieving a particularly surly-looking gentleman of after he'd assisted in removing him from the premises. The poor lad had been loaded so thoroughly to the gunwales it was practically overflowing; he wasn't so much sporting a grog blossom as a grog orchard. And to top it all off, he could barely stand, merely stumble about drunkenly, but he was making a mighty effort of it, and had crashed into the bar even as he reached right across it to accost the barmaid with a bleary-eyed, ham-fisted pawing motion. A well-placed thwack to the back of his head had left him slumped over the bar, and Crow had helped another man toss the drunkard out on his ass, back into the heat.

Good riddance to him.

With a flourish, Crow scooped up the pouch of coin, bringing it up to his eyes, and smiled a devil's smile, staring at the glint of swirling colors within the unassuming little parcel. "Definitely not a large amount of the stuff...but Omnilium is Omnilium, even in coins." The jingle and clink of more solid, traditional coins of gold and silver issued forth from the pouch as Crow bounced and weighed it in his palm, grinning like a fool, before he rolled it up his arm and and it vanished into the shadow of his one-shoulder cape.

"The gent could've easily payed for any number o' drinks with what he had in that little beauty." Pushing his pointy-brimmed hat back out of his face, Crow leaned back comfortably in his chair, propping one arm up on the back of it as he took up his tankard in the other. "Can't say as I'm too torn up over his loss." With a deft motion, the good captain threw back his head, draining the mostly-full tankard in his hand in one long draught, ending with a long sigh of satisfaction. "....s'been too long since I've had a real drink."

The sudden sound of aggressive shouting outside, followed shortly by the unmistakable sound of someone smashing roughly into a wall soured his mood. "Well, jus' wouldn't be a day in town without some sort o' trouble, now would it..."

[Roger Smith]

Rising up to his feet, Crow tossed the pouch in his hand as he negotiated his way through the room up to the counter. He leaned forward over it, resting one arm partially on the surface, before he plopped down the bag of coin. "Here we are...consider this payment for me drinks, and for any damage that might be caused right soon, lass." With a tip of his pointy-brimmed hat, he stood back up straight. "Ah, and have another cold brew waitin' for me, aye? I don't think this'll take all that long."

With a grin that would have looked more at home on a beast than a man, Crow spun about on one heel and strode boldly and resolutely toward the door to the tavern, and threw it open with a flourish, stepping back out into the sun just in time to catch the tail end of a no-doubt well-rehearsed speech spilling from the mouth of a brutish-looking gentleman.

"...and so, if'n ya don't wanna find out how far I can knock yer heads a'flyin' with me big ol' axe here, then there's only one proper course o' action open." The axe in question was a great beast of a thing, hoisted up and resting on the shoulder of a man who looked like he had more muscle than brain. But there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes that spoke of a wicked cunning, if not true intelligence.

Crow was wise to the ways of men with that look about them, and wasn't stupid enough to go charging into a scuffle with someone who looked like he could tear him in two with one hand, but the sight of what looked to be a member of the town's local protectors, on the ground with his arm twisted at an angle that simply couldn't be natural, and another in a broken heap close by, it was quite evident that one of three things were true.

One, that the guards of this town were incompetent, or more hopefully, all too new at their posts.

Two...those hadn't really been guards at all, just some vigilant people trying to keep the peace.

Or three, and perhaps most worryingly...this brutish bandit and the equally surly-looking group of thugs with him were much more dangerous than their simple appearance might indicate.

Weighing his options, Crow left one hand play on the sparse growth of beard on his chin. In a contest of brute strength, it was evident he'd be fighting a losing battle. The weakest-looking of the bunch on axe man's group looked like he could be enough of a match for the good captain on a good day... If he fought smart, he might be able to take down most of them. Axe man looked like the only one with any real brains or fighting experience, if the way he held himself was any indication, and it was doubtful that any of them were any quicker on their feet than they were with their wits...

But the simple fact of the matter was that, in a straight up fight, one against a dozen was a losing battle, every time.

Then again...who ever said a pirate, even one left on land, would ever fight a straight fight?

The smart thing, of course, would have been to just run. To go on his merry way and not look back, head on to the gate to the Nexus and get back to the sea. Strike up with a new crew, and get back to seeing what there was to see out on the waters and islands of the Deep. Just walk away, and let this town deal with its own problems. The Kingdom's fines would no doubt have been along to solve the ordeal. What were the chances of this poor town winding up burnt to the ground, after all?

"Listen up, there, lads..." Arms folded over his torso loosely, in a gesture of either nonviolence or supreme arrogance, it was hard to tell which, Captain Crow strolled casually out into the middle of the street, planting himself firmly in the center of things, and drawing the attention of axe man and his cronies straight to him. "I don't rightly know what it is you were thinkin' you'd go about doin' in this right fine town, mates..." He tilted his head back, fixing axe man with a steely glare. "...but I'd think about finding somewhere else to do it."

Maybe it was the simple audacity of the threat, or maybe it was the cold steel in Crow's eyes. Or maybe it was something else entirely. But aside from axe man, the entire bunch seemed cowed, the wind going out of their sails. But axe man....he just scowled back at Crow, looking put off that someone had stood up to him, but not looking the least bit ready to heed the advice. "And why should we listen ta a blasted thing you got ta say, eh?!"

"Bit o', lad...don't go mouthin' off when yeh've got no idea in that tiny little brain o' yours who you're mouthin' off to." Crow shook his head in a mocking fashion. "And besides, I never said you should listen to me. 'Twas just a bit o' friendly advice." He lifted his hands in a shrug. "It's entirely up to you whether'r not ye decide to heed it."

A vein bulged on axe man's forehead as he shifted his stance, flexing the muscles in his axe-holding arm, looking as if he were working through something in his head. "Heh...right, right...and you jus' decided to give that advice out of the kindness o' yer heart, yeah?" He took a step forward, aggressively, and snarled, "Keep your 'advice'. Pay up an' shut up, or we'll shut ya up, and make a real fine example o' what happens to people what decides to stand up to Big Boss Bertrand."

Crow's expression didn't change one bit, he just dropped his arms to his sides, one hand coming to rest on the hilt of his saber, fingers drumming along it slowly. "You talk a real good game, mate...and I'd wager in a fair fight, me against you and your pals there, I'd get me clock rightly cleaned..." His free hand returned to play across the sparse growth of beard on his chin. "...but whoever said it was gonna be a fair fight? Who ever said I was alone here, eh?" He leaned forward slightly, until only one eye could be seen peering out from under his hat. "Since when does a pirate go anywhere without 'is crew, mate?"

At that, Big Boss Bertrand recoiled so sharply and so swiftly his ridiculous mask nearly fell off.

"So now, it's time for me to offer you some more friendly advice, mate..." Crow's voice dropped in pitch, taking on a steel-cold edge, his fingers ceasing their drumming on his saber to grasp it lightly, ready to draw. "...you should really find somewhere else t'go about your business."

The ensuing retreat was almost comical in its swiftness, and Crow laughed uproariously in response, slapping one hand against his knee in mirth. "Ah, it does me heart good to know that there's still idiots like him and his lot runnin' about the place..." Shaking his head, Crow turned back to the tavern, waving a hand at the two fallen "defenders" of the town.. "Might want to get those lads some medical attention, and right quickly," he said cheerfully, disappearing back into the shadows of the tavern.