Vemuz,
"Oceanus only knows I'd rather not have to ship those Standishtowners as the new hands," Mr. Lang says slowly. "The probability of disrupting discipline on the ship had occurred to me, but we will be sailing in pirate waters soon, and the current crew is barely enough to work the ship, let alone man the guns. If you can find a dozen steady hands - steady hands, mind you, not the scrapings of the barrel from some local crimp - I'll dispose of the Standishtowners. Unless you buy some Orcish slaves, though, I have no idea where you'll get steady hands. All the same, I wish you luck, Mr. Thriceborn. I don't want bad blood between the fo'c'sle hands."
Malthas, Jonah, Vemuz,
"Stay here?" the Captain says, only a little too loudly. "I'd rather have my balls fed t' a Port Andorra shark. Let's up anchor, mates, an' be on our way."
He flings a handful of coins on the table, and, taking one last glass "for the road," staggers out the door, supported by Vemuz and Jonah.
With some difficulty, you manage to maneuver the tipsy captain the right direction through the equally intoxicated late-night crowds swarming the street. In fact, the majority of the sailors now on the streets is so badly off that the Captain seems relatively sober, even despite the sea chanties he insists on blaring to the heavens;
"When I was a young'un in me prime...
Way down, in Standishtown...
I courted them gals three at a time...
An' we'll roll the woodpile down!
Three flash packets lay out in th' bay...
Way down, in Standishtown..."
Malachi,
The slaves nod.
"We und'stand," says the spokesman. "We bring family, we be free. We tell dha others, go upriver, fin' de wolf elves."
He and the other slaves then look around stealthily, dropping all pretense of continuing to work, and dart off into the dark streets, afraid probably that their plans will be discovered and they will recieve another set of stripes for their troubles.
At the same time, you hear a sea chantey booming down the street in a familiar voice;
"When I was a young'un in me prime...
Way down, in Standishtown...
I courted them gals three at a time...
An' we'll roll the woodpile down!
Three flash packets lay out in th' bay...
Way down, in Standishtown..."
The Captain, supported by Mr. Thriceborn and Jonah, and accompanied by Mr. Swifthand and Mr. Lang, staggers aboard, considerably the worse for liquor and celebration.
Nicodemus,
You recall, through the haze of three toasts worth of rum, the strange conversation between Mr. Thriceborn and Mr. Legba whcih you interrupted upon your return to the ship:
Mr. Thriceborn had been saying something about supporting Mr. Legba, and about gambling for the freedom of slaves - or perhaps just telling Mr. Lang that was what happened.
Mr. Legba seemed to have been talking to some slaves on the docks; you distinctly recall the words "freedom" and "escape" having been used on more than one occasion.
(OOC: You arrived just as the slaves first addressed Malachi & Malachi told them to escape and take refuge aboard the CALYPSO'S GRACE.)
. I'll post the DM Post tomorrow, I promise.
