Post by SeaBear on Jun 16, 2022 3:08:10 GMT -5
Left Town on Raito Isle – an otherwise innocuous village on the small island, but a regular port for pirates and bandits from all over.
With such an implicit source of traffic, it was no place for the faint of heart to be making port.
But for one who had found the resolve to fly his own flag, perhaps there was no better place to begin!
Within a seedy bar in the lower end of town, a large number of regulars were having their evening business and mirth. They came in all shapes and sizes, some towering over the regular human average, but one thing that could not be denied is every person to the last had a certain air of danger about them. Certainly not the place to enter carelessly.
Which is, of course, precisely why the individual who had just entered the scene, barging the front door in with a loudly announced entrance, had just done just that.
With a loud creak of the hinges, the door swung open wide, a palm outstretched in thrusting outwards, the light from outside pouring past the arm’s owner, casting his shadow into the establishment. After some moments, the sudden activity having quietened the bar as a number of patrons’ attentions were caught, a pair of worn workboots came tromping on in along the floorboards, the newcomer tipping the brim of the white captain’s cap upon his head to those he passed.
“Evenin’, gents, ladies.” Looking towards the back, he raised a hand to catch the owner’s attention. “Spare a moment for coin, Mister Bartender?”
As he made his wat to the back, a large, rounded man with a receded hairline and a thin moustache raised an eyebrow at him from behind the counter, having been cleaning out a few glasses.
“Well, ain’t’cha just th’ pict’cha a’ panache.” The barkeep droned unimpressed, setting down the glass he was working at and leaning over. “Alright, chief, whatsyer poison?”
The crimson-jawed man who’d approached lifted the brim of his hat just a touch, to glance at the barkeep from the corner of his eye—and, dipping a hand into his pocket, he flicked two 500 Beli coins the man’s way, the money clattering onto the counter.
“Hard cider, if’n you’d be so kind. Tall.”
As the barkeep took the money with a sigh and a small nod, turning to grab a vessel to fill up, the man in captain’s coat turned his attention to the rest of the bar – and, in some overblown flourish, tossed his arms wide.
“Lend me an ear, if you’d please, lads an’ lasses!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, an ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. “If there’s any soul in this establishment who’s been looking for a reason to take to sea, look no further – I’m looking t’ set off on a grand voyage, and I’m in the market for a crew of the best!”
No sooner had he made the grand bellow had the barkeep returned from behind the counter, a wooden tankard with a metal binding and handle clattering down on the countertop loudly.
“Ey, ey, foghorn, y’wanna run yer mouth a little less? I got payin’ customers who didn’t ask fer a stage show. An’ we don’t do ‘solicitors’ in this part of town, capische?” Giving the man a narrow-eyed scowl, he turned away. “There’s yer drink. Take it, siddown, and shaddap already, wouldya?”
The clear and present warning garnered no more than an amused chuckle, the boisterous patron plucking up the frothy mug with a tip of the hat and spinning on his heels.
“If I’ve caught anybody’s interest,” He continued on from before, taking a moment to survey the attitudes within the bar, “feel free to approach for a talk. I’ll take all comers!”
With that said, Frederick B. Reis, the newly-christened pirate “Redbeard” of some scant few weeks, made his way over to a lone booth off to the far wall of the establishment, taking a deep swig of his drink before letting it down onto the table with a loud, satisfied sigh.
So, his starting out had been a little rough.
So he’d been to three islands already with not yet a single crewmate to his name.
So he was...bound to have a company of Marines after him soon, if they weren’t already.
That was fiiine. None of that mattered! The tide of Reis’s fortunes were sure to change.
...Sure, he might’ve told himself the same thing several times before, but this time really, he had a good feeling about this one!
…It just so happened that he had indeed managed to catch some particular attentions, as a small party gathered at a table across the bar seemed to be giving him additional looks, and were nodding amongst themselves with a particular gleam in their eye…
With such an implicit source of traffic, it was no place for the faint of heart to be making port.
But for one who had found the resolve to fly his own flag, perhaps there was no better place to begin!
Within a seedy bar in the lower end of town, a large number of regulars were having their evening business and mirth. They came in all shapes and sizes, some towering over the regular human average, but one thing that could not be denied is every person to the last had a certain air of danger about them. Certainly not the place to enter carelessly.
Which is, of course, precisely why the individual who had just entered the scene, barging the front door in with a loudly announced entrance, had just done just that.
With a loud creak of the hinges, the door swung open wide, a palm outstretched in thrusting outwards, the light from outside pouring past the arm’s owner, casting his shadow into the establishment. After some moments, the sudden activity having quietened the bar as a number of patrons’ attentions were caught, a pair of worn workboots came tromping on in along the floorboards, the newcomer tipping the brim of the white captain’s cap upon his head to those he passed.
“Evenin’, gents, ladies.” Looking towards the back, he raised a hand to catch the owner’s attention. “Spare a moment for coin, Mister Bartender?”
As he made his wat to the back, a large, rounded man with a receded hairline and a thin moustache raised an eyebrow at him from behind the counter, having been cleaning out a few glasses.
“Well, ain’t’cha just th’ pict’cha a’ panache.” The barkeep droned unimpressed, setting down the glass he was working at and leaning over. “Alright, chief, whatsyer poison?”
The crimson-jawed man who’d approached lifted the brim of his hat just a touch, to glance at the barkeep from the corner of his eye—and, dipping a hand into his pocket, he flicked two 500 Beli coins the man’s way, the money clattering onto the counter.
“Hard cider, if’n you’d be so kind. Tall.”
As the barkeep took the money with a sigh and a small nod, turning to grab a vessel to fill up, the man in captain’s coat turned his attention to the rest of the bar – and, in some overblown flourish, tossed his arms wide.
“Lend me an ear, if you’d please, lads an’ lasses!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, an ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. “If there’s any soul in this establishment who’s been looking for a reason to take to sea, look no further – I’m looking t’ set off on a grand voyage, and I’m in the market for a crew of the best!”
No sooner had he made the grand bellow had the barkeep returned from behind the counter, a wooden tankard with a metal binding and handle clattering down on the countertop loudly.
“Ey, ey, foghorn, y’wanna run yer mouth a little less? I got payin’ customers who didn’t ask fer a stage show. An’ we don’t do ‘solicitors’ in this part of town, capische?” Giving the man a narrow-eyed scowl, he turned away. “There’s yer drink. Take it, siddown, and shaddap already, wouldya?”
The clear and present warning garnered no more than an amused chuckle, the boisterous patron plucking up the frothy mug with a tip of the hat and spinning on his heels.
“If I’ve caught anybody’s interest,” He continued on from before, taking a moment to survey the attitudes within the bar, “feel free to approach for a talk. I’ll take all comers!”
With that said, Frederick B. Reis, the newly-christened pirate “Redbeard” of some scant few weeks, made his way over to a lone booth off to the far wall of the establishment, taking a deep swig of his drink before letting it down onto the table with a loud, satisfied sigh.
So, his starting out had been a little rough.
So he’d been to three islands already with not yet a single crewmate to his name.
So he was...bound to have a company of Marines after him soon, if they weren’t already.
That was fiiine. None of that mattered! The tide of Reis’s fortunes were sure to change.
...Sure, he might’ve told himself the same thing several times before, but this time really, he had a good feeling about this one!
…It just so happened that he had indeed managed to catch some particular attentions, as a small party gathered at a table across the bar seemed to be giving him additional looks, and were nodding amongst themselves with a particular gleam in their eye…