07-10-2018, 07:48 PM
Another day, another job. Even if the payout for this particular job was promised to be abnormally high compared to the usual fare that he got hold of. High enough that he'd been obliged to stay up through the night after the run-in with that blasted ghost ship and keep a steady hand on the helm and a weather eye on horizon and compass both, forgoing sleep to let his crew get some shut-eye and keep them on course for their destination. They were already late, and couldn't afford the night to properly sleep off the chaos of the prior day.
The man known as Captain Crow wasn't one to bat an eye over a little missed sleep. He'd been known to go for days on end without so much as a wink before, even in the days when he had been a mere mortal and not some blasted, slapdash quasi-deity. No, it wasn't the lack of sleep that had Crow staring blearily into the morning sun, scratching at the sparse growth of gray beard fighting for prominence on his chin. Damn thing hadn't grown in right for twenty years...one run-in with an errant cannon and it just hadn't been the same since...
No, missed sleep wasn't what had his eyes straining and squinting into the light. He was tired, of course; always tired, just a fact of getting old. It was something else that occupied his attention on this particular morning, and made him stare intently to be sure he wasn't just seeing things in the mingled haze of sleeplessness, oversaturation of rum, seafoam spray and the glare of morning light.
"If me eyes aren't failin' me wholesale just yet...looks like our client's got some trouble brewing on his little slice o' paradise." Crow slowly brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, adjusting the tilt of his hat in the same motion. "Or else we got another island in the way of us gettin' to this little party..."
He turned aside, leaning over from his place at the helm to grasp for a tarnished old brass bell. Taking hold of it, he gave it a sharp ring, tugging on chains and ropes laid into the handle. Echoing along the ship, and muffled from belowdecks, there came a cacophonous sequence of jangling jingles, jangles, chimes and clangs from a multitude of other bells and assorted noisemakers strewn throughout. What followed could only be described as a scene of barely-organized chaos, as dozens of heads were ripped from varying degrees of sleep and not quite twice as many eyes jerked wide open.
Blind fingers scrambled for clothes and boots stumbled for purchase, as all hands made way to get to their appropriate places. It was only a matter of moments before the deck was a mess of activity, and the familiar tread of Mister Carlyle stormed up the steps to leap into place beside the helm. "Cap'n!" He saluted smartly, before relaxing to take a breather. "Seen somethin' worth gettin' worked up over?"
"Perhaps I did, mister Carlyle, perhaps I did," Crow answered dismissively. "Have a look out yonder, dead ahead and tell me what yer eyes be seein'."
The first mate stepped up to the railing, shading his eyes with one hand as he peered ahead into the foamy waters toward the distant island. "Looks like an island to me, Cap'n." He glanced back at Crow. "Our port of call, I reckon?"
"Aye...it supposedly be the place we're headed for," he confirmed. "But take a closer look. Spot any trouble?"
Carlyle scowled, turning his eyes back to the distant landmass. He scanned it carefully, searchingly, before he blinked once and straightened up. "Well, shiver me timbers..."
"Aye. Lookin' mighty like a warzone, not some fancy resort, eh?" Crow rapped his knuckles against the helm, prompting his first mate to step into place and take over as the captain stepped away, one hand resting at his chin. "Way I figure it...our generous host made some terms and offers what didn't sit well with anyone else he put out this here job offer o' his too, and we were so late to the party we missed a good laugh at how outrageous it all was. Predictably, some others didn't have the right sense o' humor for that and took violent offense to havin' their time wasted." He paused, a gleam in his eyes. "Or whatever he was up to was such a big deal there be other elements runnin' afoul of his interests come to make sure it don't get outta port."
"Makes it interesting enough either way, eh, Cap'n?"
"Aye, that it certainly does." Crow grinned, turning to look down over the decks below. "Alright, ya sleep-addled swabs! Get this ship into the wind, and smartly!" he barked, and struck his fist against the railing with a sharp crack. "I want anchor weighed at the docks o' that island within four bells, or I'll have all yer livers fer lights!"
There was a unanimous chorus of "Aye aye, Cap'n!" and a renewed storm of activity that met his order. Sails unfurled, and the groan of canvas and cord straining as they caught the wind reached the ears of all. Spray and foam rose up in renewed intensity as the ship ponderously swung about to catch the wind full-on and speed slowly built up.
Captain Crow strode away from the helm, and descended the steps to the deck below. He had preparations of his own to make, not the least of which was a short nap and a bite to eat. His weapons and equipment were all sorted and ready to grab when they docked and hove to at the so-called resort. "Just like old times...in the worst o' ways."
The man known as Captain Crow wasn't one to bat an eye over a little missed sleep. He'd been known to go for days on end without so much as a wink before, even in the days when he had been a mere mortal and not some blasted, slapdash quasi-deity. No, it wasn't the lack of sleep that had Crow staring blearily into the morning sun, scratching at the sparse growth of gray beard fighting for prominence on his chin. Damn thing hadn't grown in right for twenty years...one run-in with an errant cannon and it just hadn't been the same since...
No, missed sleep wasn't what had his eyes straining and squinting into the light. He was tired, of course; always tired, just a fact of getting old. It was something else that occupied his attention on this particular morning, and made him stare intently to be sure he wasn't just seeing things in the mingled haze of sleeplessness, oversaturation of rum, seafoam spray and the glare of morning light.
"If me eyes aren't failin' me wholesale just yet...looks like our client's got some trouble brewing on his little slice o' paradise." Crow slowly brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, adjusting the tilt of his hat in the same motion. "Or else we got another island in the way of us gettin' to this little party..."
He turned aside, leaning over from his place at the helm to grasp for a tarnished old brass bell. Taking hold of it, he gave it a sharp ring, tugging on chains and ropes laid into the handle. Echoing along the ship, and muffled from belowdecks, there came a cacophonous sequence of jangling jingles, jangles, chimes and clangs from a multitude of other bells and assorted noisemakers strewn throughout. What followed could only be described as a scene of barely-organized chaos, as dozens of heads were ripped from varying degrees of sleep and not quite twice as many eyes jerked wide open.
Blind fingers scrambled for clothes and boots stumbled for purchase, as all hands made way to get to their appropriate places. It was only a matter of moments before the deck was a mess of activity, and the familiar tread of Mister Carlyle stormed up the steps to leap into place beside the helm. "Cap'n!" He saluted smartly, before relaxing to take a breather. "Seen somethin' worth gettin' worked up over?"
"Perhaps I did, mister Carlyle, perhaps I did," Crow answered dismissively. "Have a look out yonder, dead ahead and tell me what yer eyes be seein'."
The first mate stepped up to the railing, shading his eyes with one hand as he peered ahead into the foamy waters toward the distant island. "Looks like an island to me, Cap'n." He glanced back at Crow. "Our port of call, I reckon?"
"Aye...it supposedly be the place we're headed for," he confirmed. "But take a closer look. Spot any trouble?"
Carlyle scowled, turning his eyes back to the distant landmass. He scanned it carefully, searchingly, before he blinked once and straightened up. "Well, shiver me timbers..."
"Aye. Lookin' mighty like a warzone, not some fancy resort, eh?" Crow rapped his knuckles against the helm, prompting his first mate to step into place and take over as the captain stepped away, one hand resting at his chin. "Way I figure it...our generous host made some terms and offers what didn't sit well with anyone else he put out this here job offer o' his too, and we were so late to the party we missed a good laugh at how outrageous it all was. Predictably, some others didn't have the right sense o' humor for that and took violent offense to havin' their time wasted." He paused, a gleam in his eyes. "Or whatever he was up to was such a big deal there be other elements runnin' afoul of his interests come to make sure it don't get outta port."
"Makes it interesting enough either way, eh, Cap'n?"
"Aye, that it certainly does." Crow grinned, turning to look down over the decks below. "Alright, ya sleep-addled swabs! Get this ship into the wind, and smartly!" he barked, and struck his fist against the railing with a sharp crack. "I want anchor weighed at the docks o' that island within four bells, or I'll have all yer livers fer lights!"
There was a unanimous chorus of "Aye aye, Cap'n!" and a renewed storm of activity that met his order. Sails unfurled, and the groan of canvas and cord straining as they caught the wind reached the ears of all. Spray and foam rose up in renewed intensity as the ship ponderously swung about to catch the wind full-on and speed slowly built up.
Captain Crow strode away from the helm, and descended the steps to the deck below. He had preparations of his own to make, not the least of which was a short nap and a bite to eat. His weapons and equipment were all sorted and ready to grab when they docked and hove to at the so-called resort. "Just like old times...in the worst o' ways."
![[Image: kUpgBYg.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/kUpgBYg.gif)