Elsewhere on the island...
SHE IS HERE!
The thought exploded into Flynn's brain as soon as he awoke, even before his eyes fluttered open- and even the thought was loud enough to send a spike of pain through his head, as the cheap rum hangover took hold. He groaned and closed his eyes again, against the pale flickers of sunlight sifting in through the open window. He flailed one hand weakly, grasping the mostly empty bottle from the rickety bedside table- there was only a sip or two of rum left, but it was enough for the moment.
For just a moment, he simply lay flat on the bed- the space beside him was long empty, of course, which was a good thing- it let him imagine that last night's companion (whatever her name was) was a dusky, exotic beauty. So much of last night was lost, drowned in rum...
But only one detail was important, really- the one detail that had been foremost in his mind, solid enough to survive a hangover far worse than the one he was fighting now. Finally, after all the searching, he had found her... She was here, on the same island- somewhere. No one seemed to agree where she was staying, or what exactly she was up to- there were so many rumors, about so many things, floating through the rum-soaked air of Nassau's taverns, and Flynn had visited most of those spots last night, avoiding only Blackreef's (since the rumors had said that was where Reed Wallace's crew was most often seen- and Flynn had no wish to have that kind of meeting).
But Katerina was here in Nassau, and calling herself 'Captain' as well- though no one seemed to know what ship she claimed... She was gathering crew as well- and someone had said that the Old Zef was still part of her entourage. By the Powers, those two names together dredged up some memories... Today's task, of course, would be to actually find Captain Katerina and whatever crew she had- and to join them, in whatever venture they were planning.
With another groan, and an even sharper spike of pain, Flynn sat up and opened his eyes. The tiny room was mostly empty- a single crude chair held last night's clothes, and his satchels were still stowed beneath the bed. He put the now empty bottle of rum on the bedside table and stood up, a bit unsteadily. That just wouldn't do... Focusing his mind, he began to sing- so very softly at first, but more clearly as he went. The pain receded, or at least the pain in his head- that left room for the familiar searing pain to spike in his chest... Then he stepped over to the chair and gathered up his shirt and began to dress.
There was a lot of work to be done today- it would be best to begin early...
[sblock= OOC] Just getting an introductory post up, finally. I'll rope him along to the tavern in a bit. His Whiskey Johnny roll for the day indicates he would wake up hung over and be useless on the ship until noon- if the GM allows, he will use a casting of Lesser Restoration to alleviate that ("Hung over" isn't one of the conditions listed in the spell description, but it seems about right). This would be followed by Prestidigitation to clean up himself and his clothes, to present a positive impression. Avast! [/sblock]
