Pirate Punk Session 2: Opportunities in the New World

 

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    "What should we do with the San Ambrosio's original crew?" 

    Eston spoke with the five others around the helm. He could scarcely believe what they had done in the past few hours: Overtake a Cabal LeMont ship, steer her out of a perilous mana storm, and get elected as officers by their fellow prisoners. He corrected himself. They weren't prisoners anymore. They were a crew- his crew.

    He was even more surprised when Britton had put him forward for captaincy, even more so when he was elected without any real opposition. He couldn't be surprised now; the crew was counting on them.

    Davey, the troll elected as Gunnery Officer, spoke first.

    "Why not let, those who want to, become part of the crew?"

    The quartermaster, a dwarf named Hadwin, voiced his assent, "If they're willing, otherwise they get off at port. Except the officers of course."

    No mercy for the merciless. Before anything else the once-prisoners had decided the grim fate that lay in store for the surviving Cabal LeMont officers. Being marooned was a sailor's worst nightmare and one that would be fitting for those scum.

    Britton, coxswain, changed the subject, "What about where we're going? We have maps right?"

    Elvik, the Romani elf who had saved them all with her healing, rustled a tube of charts found amongst the previous captain's things. Eston smiled at her, she was fulfilling her duty as pilot well. He turned to Britton, "plenty of ports exist that won't be openly hostile to us."

    Eston couldn't help but think Britton was somehow suffused with the fire that he had wielded in the uprising when he changed the subject again, "well what about upgrading this ship?"

    "We'll need money for that", Elvik chimed.

    It was true, the San Ambrosio had little in the way of wealth and they would be needing to find a way to keep the crew's pockets full if they wanted to remain in their positions as officers. He knew that making decisions on anything other than the necessities now was getting far, far ahead of themselves.

    "What we need to do is get our bearings. Many of us haven't been in the New World recently, if ever. Making port will give us the opportunity to hear what exists for us out here. Everything else will come after that."

  Davey cracked a smile that spread to Elvik, Britton, and the rest of the officers, "and that is why we elected you Captain, Eston".

- - -

    When a storm-beaten vessel pulled into an unnamed and unimportant port of ill repute on the Eastern edge of the Caribbean it went unnoticed. Well, almost unnoticed.

    From the shadows of his hut he took stock of the disembarking crew- elf, troll, dwarf, ork, and...yes, Britton. Each went out into the port except for Britton and the ork. They were stopping strangers and asking them, asking them about him, the Mayan. Good, his message had been received. He looked forward to meeting another of his totem.

- - -

    Elvik meandered through port taking in the wondrous feel of land beneath her feet and savoring being free of shackles and chain. She was entrusted with a small portion of the San Ambrosio's wealth to obtain supplies that would further her healing talents. She thought back to the battle in the storm, how in the wake of Britton's inferno her mist had been the only thing that had given the prisoners the edge to seize the ship. She smiled, it was good to be respected and valued. It would be bad to come back empty-handed as she was beginning to dread she would.

    This port seemed to be comprised entirely of those ignorant to the arcane or dealers who carried foci that were too good to be true or clearly cursed in some form. All she needed was something imbued with restorative magic. She sighed and entered a shop, expecting to find it to be yet another dingy den of dubious trinkets. Instead she smiled and closed the door behind her to speak with the shopkeeper: another elf like her.

- - -

    "I found us a job."

    Elvik twirled the chain of her new necklace around a finger and looked at Britton, "helpful, pray tell, what is the job?"

    "Eston and I spoke to someone, a Mayan. He wants us to steal back his stuff from Cabal Le Mont on some island not even a day away from here. He'll give us a cut of the goods. I figure we can't really go down more in their eyes anyway, so here's my plan-"

    Davey didn't look up from polishing a swivel gun when he interrupted Britton, "It is safe to assume they don't even know that this ship is missing yet."

    Britton nodded, enthusiasm practically bleeding from him.

    "And when they do...they'll assume it was wrecked. Wouldn't we rather have them never know the San Ambrosio's true fate?"

    Elvik cut in, "we could disguise the ship: change the name or the flags. That sort of thing"

    Britton took the idea and ran with it, "we could show up with no flag and send a small, elite squad in under the cover of darkness!"

    Davey shook his head, "I think this is beyond what we can handle."

    Britton pushed his position emphatically, "we handled the San Ambrosio easily enough!"

    Davey scoffed and looked up finally. He locked eyes with Britton, "Your handling of that was hardly stealthy and almost destroyed the ship, to say nothing of the crew."

    Silence. There had been only whispers about how the fiery shockwave had affected more than just the ship and the Cabal LeMont cronies. A good portion of the ashes left in Britton's wake were prisoners freshly liberated only to be incinerated by the one who freed them.

    Britton broke the silence, muttering under his breath, "maybe everybody can learn to duck when I say so."

    Elvik threw her hands up in exasperation, "duck does not work when you create a giant explosion!"

    Britton went on the defense, "okay, okay. This may not be the right job- the pay is only a small cut and it's in ores. Who would even want ores? Dwarves or something?"

    Hadwin and Davey shared a brief glance, then the Dwarf spoke.

    "Davey and I were talking earlier. There's a port in these waters, some of you might have heard of it. It's carved into solid rock rising from the sea: Migdal Ungaz."

    Gerrick, the elven bosun, rolled his eyes. Hadwin noticed but continued on,

    "The dwarves always have work for the right people and they're certainly no friends of the companies. If we're looking for a job we could find a start there."

    Eston had been quiet as the officers talked. Working for dwarves would be an easy sell, at least to their mostly non-elven crew. He smiled at Hadwin. Then to the rest.

    "To Migdal Ungaz then!"

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    That was our second session! It was roleplay heavy and a great opportunity for us to familiarize ourselves with each other in character.

    Writing these narratively brings with it challenges that I hadn't considered when writing the Bara-Kraz reports. Do I adhere strictly to what everyone said in the session? Does in-game conversation translate into writing? If it doesn't, do I include it? Is this interesting enough to write about? Are these the sorts of questions that face movie writers when adapting a beloved book to the screen?

    Of course the stakes are much lower here.

    This is my blog and I am writing these session reports for my own enjoyment. Including everything might satisfy me as a purist but it won't make for a coherent story that I am excited to chronicle. While I trim what I deem the fat of a session I will also try to stay as close to the spirit of the session as possible.

P.S

Cover image once again courtesy of Stable Diffusion.