A Pirate's Life (For Me) Group RP

Niamh paused from her cleaning when she noticed a hand wave through the air. She cocked a brow, straightening up as Twila requested another drink. "If you'd like to scavenge a mug from this mess," she gestured toward the broken glass that littered the floor, "then be my guest." There were still a few glasses left, but Niamh wasn't exactly keen on having the rest of them smashed to pieces before Hector from the tavern across town was able to bring them some new ones.

"You might be off tonight, anyway, if you're joining that crew. There's bound to be ale on board if it's Victor's ship," Niamh looked at the knocked out man, "and if you would, please help get that poor lad out of here; having a bunch of knocked out pirates is not very good for business."

She took her place back behind the bar, using a cloth to wipe off some of the spilled ale from the wooden surface. As usual, Niamh paid no mind when Victor sat down in front of her. He often pestered her when she was behind the bar and it normally ended with her smacking him across the face with whatever object she was using to clean at that moment (he's gotten hit in the face with quite a few brooms). However, her eyes shot up as soon as he mentioned her mother. "You're lying," she countered, but as awful as she found Victor, she knew he was no liar.

"I've no place on a pirate ship, Victor." But his words were still enough to convince her she needed some way to get off of Nassau. "Maybe I'll get the bastard to drop me off in England with Kenn," she noticed said bastard sitting a little way further down the bar. "Oi! I'll join your crew."


As soon as Haytham accepted them, Jimmy let out a groan and pulled his arm from Diego's hands. "Mate," he turned to the smaller teen, "I'm going to die." Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He as going to hurl. Throwing up was a bit of defense mechanism for the lad, and he also probably had the weakest stomach in all of the Caribbean. How was he supposed to survive the rocking of a ship?

"You're awful," were his last words to Diego before he took off to the dock and released the contents of his stomach into the sea. There was another teen there, Jimmy thought that he heard him introduce himself as Alexander, and he happened to throw up right in front of him. He heaved again, clutching his stomach with his hand. His face was bright red once again, but that time it was from a mixture of embarrassment and from the force of him puking.

He stood there for a moment, slouched over with his hands grasping onto his knees and gasped for some breath. "I'm sorry," he blinked up at Alexander, "I didn't really have time to go anywhere else." His cheeks burned.
 
Alexander watched the whole wrenching scene unfold with passing interest, his cool violetesque eyes scanning the presumably younger teen with what could only be described as curious hunger. "Please, there's no need to apologize, it's not as if these are my docks." The words came out soft as a whisper and smooth as silk.

"Judging from what I overheard, I take it you'll be joining our little adventuring crew? You seem nervous. Scared." A slow, crawling smile spread across Luci's features, as sharp as any other part of his face. "If you don't mind me asking...what are you afraid of? The seasickness? Going overboard? Storms and waves large enough to swallow entire ships whole?" Mid speech, the strangely pale giant would flick his eyes to the lapping tides just beyond them, so enraptured it seemed like he May have forgotten Jimmy was there at all until...

"Let me tell you. Nothing is more exciting...dangerous...mysterious as the open ocean. There are things out there you'll never see stuck on land." The entire monologue, Luci's voice could only be described as indifferent and distant. Until the end, the last word. 'Land' had been spat from his lips with such venom that it bellied an underlying hatred for all things not of the water.
 
"Oooookay creepy. That's enough o' that." Said Diego, suddenly in between the new guy and Jimmy, looking up at the frankly giant teen. Think his name was Alec? Al something. Turning around with Jimmy, who he lightly holds by the shoulder to make sure he was okay, he looks back up at back at Al, sending a small glare his way. He didn't know much about him, but you don't really need to when someone says shit like that to a quite obviously innocent guy like James. This guy reminded him of those inquisitors he had sometimes seen at some of the less... reputable nobles places, and that was more than enough to put him on edge.

It was hard for him to not even touch his weapon, even harder to turn his back of the guy, but he managed to. After making sure Jimmy was okay and that he wasn't going to throw up any more, he slowly led him back to the Whistling Donkey. "Just ignore him. I'll get you some water. You wanna sit outside?" He asks, to which the other teen seems to meekly nod at.

Gently helping him sit on the side of the steps leading into the doorway, Diego makes sure Jimmy's all good before making his way in and over the bar. Managing to grab Niamh's attention, he cuts her off before she could reprimand him. "I know, I know, not allowed in. But this time it's for a good reason, I swear! Jimmy ain't feelin' so good, so have ya got any water?"
 
Twila looked around at the mess of mugs on the floor. She nodded her head and stood up lithely from her dark corner. "Aye aye ma'am. This lad'll be outta 'ere before ya' know it. And yer probably right about Victor " She gave Niamh a mock salute as she walked over to the passed out man to drag him out of the bar. As she hooked her arms under his armpits to drag the man out of the bar she snickered to herself. "Boy'll this lad be sore t'morrow mornin'. Glad I'm not in 'is place." She continued to drag the poor man out the tavern doors and around the side of it. It wasn't too hard for her to drag him around considering she has done heavier lifting around pirate ships and what not. Although it does kinda look like she's dragging around a dead body. Hopefully most people in this area will automatically assume that this is normal when it comes to pirates and bar fights, and that the man is in fact not dead. Just, unconscious. Twila tsked at the man after propping him up against the walls. "Now now, that's what ya' get fer messing wit' my drinks."

She left the man knocked out and leaning among a few pieces of foliage. Either somebody would find him there and recognize him, therefore waking him up and bringing him home. Or he would wake up and like an idiot, go back into the tavern for more beer. Twila figured it would most likely be the latter considering he seemed like the type to do so. As she turned back around the corner she noticed a few younger lads who she noticed applied for the man Haytham's crew. If she remembered hearing right, their names were Diego and Jimmy. She noticed Diego had head inside for whatever reason, the young lad was bound to get yelled at, unless he had good reasoning. However, when Twila took in the appearance of Jimmy she figured it was due to his friend not looking so well. Shrugging her shoulders, Twila approached Jimmy and threw her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the man she had leaned against the wall.

"Oi lad. There's a passed out man from the bar fights earlier over there. If he wakes up ya' tell 'im to go home. A'right? Anywho. I'm Twila, I noticed ya' apply fer that man gathering the crew earlier. Looks like we'll be ship mates then. Aye? I wouldn't worry too much. Not yet at least." She smiled at him trying to seem friendly. Now, Twila was very sassy most of the time. But she did try to be nice to people. Especially to the younger lads and lasses who she would end up working with on the ships. She knew how nerve wrecking it could be out at sea, especially if you were just waiting to see when the next storm would hit. Which is partially why she became a Sea Artist. So that way she could always prepare herself for a storm and warn the rest of the crew as well. Some of them they could avoid, but some storms were so fast moving it would be hard to fully avoid them and Twila realized that herself.
 
Kenn's excitement was obvious from the moment that the man said that he would be fine to pay in transport. He beamed wildly through the rest of the conversation, eagerly citing every restaurant owner in Nassau as a reference for his fishing capabilities. He struggled a little with his next of kin; the chances of his family being found if he died was...unlikely. So, he just gave the names of his most recent lovers, even if one of them was angry at him at that moment in time. He couldn't care any less! This time, in a few months, he'd be fishing and swimming in cold water, digging in to delicious fish and celebrating the return of a long-lost son with his own long-lost family.

He rushed down the road to his half home, half fishmongers, starting to pack what he needed. From how skittish the man seemed when anyone mentioned pay, Kenn wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't have any food. Hoping that there would at least be water and he wouldn't have to pack his own, he gathered up some of his best fishing nets into a big leather bag, intending to start his intended job as soon as he could manage. He gathered his best knives up into a thick, sturdy burlap bag. He knew how to gut a fish, so maybe it wasn't that difficult to gut a man with one of those trusty things? He chuckled at the thought. He doubted he would need to use them. He could fight, after all, but he just needed that one weapon.

Now with a very full leather bag over his shoulder and a burlap sack clutched tightly in his other hand, he headed back to the bar at a brisk pace, hoping that they had all been quite slow at leaving. Turns out they were. He walked past a two people that he had also seen signing up for the quest as he went into the bar. He hadn't caught their names, or anything about them, but he knew that they had definitely been somewhere nearby when it was all happening. They seemed occupied with each other, so he didn't attempt to intrude. He walked into the bar and took a seat, dumping the bag onto the ground - it wasn't that loud, since it was mostly full of nets - and the burlap bag onto the bar - this one was louder, since it was mostly metal.

He was going to order a drink, but instead he saw Niamh talking with the man who had recruited them, saying that she would join herself. If it was any other woman, Kenn would have doubted her, but Kenn knew the barmaid's real nature. Many times, he had tried to charm her, but he had been unsuccessful every time. He was one of the unlucky men who had ended up soaked by his own beer, too, a few years back when he was a bit more new to Nassau. So, he kept his mouth shut, and dramatically drummed his fingers on the bar as he waited.
 
With the excitement fading, Vivien scowled at the empty bar in front of her. Man she wanted another beverage, but digging her hand into her coinpurse only confirmed she didn't have the coin for another round, "Whatever." She grumbled, slipping off the bar stool and pushing away from the counter. She tried to catch Niamh's eye, but seeing her fanclub she settled for a holler; "See ya later, Chicky!" Before she started for the door, at least until it was bodily blocked by a dashing gentleman. She blinked a few times as the guy grinned down at her. "Well... You're tall." She muttered, taking a step back in surprise. The gentleman's smile only broadened as he reached forward, snatched her fingers, and leaned forward to place a kiss upon her knuckles.

"And you're not the type of girl I'd usually find around a place like this," He replied, lifting his hypnotic gaze to meet hers, causing a strange warmth to spread through the woman as her cheeks started to burn. She had no idea what was wrong with her. Yeah, the guy was kind of cute, but she'd run into cute guys before and never had this problem. She usually just brushed them off. This guy was different. Her brain was screaming to leave, run if she had to, but her body wasn't responding.

"Not leaving so soon, I hope." The man inquired, moving forward and pulling Vivien with him as he manuvered towards the bar. "Why don't you stay with me for a while; my treat." He offered politely, "My name's Drift, by the way. Or at least that's what everyone calls me."

"V-Vivien," Vivien heard herself reply awkwardly as the man generously pulled out the very stool she had just vacated a moment before for her to take as he claimed the one next to it before lifting his hand over his head to get one of the barmaids' attention. "Excuse me, Darlin', would you mind bringing us a couple mugs of your best?" He asked, adding to his request by flashing a couple gold coins for emphasis that he wanted the best alcohol the little tavern had to offer.

"Oh man," Vivien started, "if you're going to be flashing that kind of coin around, you should probably check out the inn." She explained, not realizing what she was saying until the words had left her mouth. Having a guy like this in the Whistling Donkey was good business for Niamh and her mother. She suddenly felt entirely stupid.

"Been there. Didn't care for the company. I like the company I've found here much better." Drift winked, causing another wave of blood to course through Vivien's cheeks. Something was still telling her to get away from the handsome man with odd eyes and stranger tattoos, but no matter how hard she tried her body wouldn't move. And the longer she stayed next to him, the more comfortable she felt.
 
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Jimmy only had a moment to shoot Alexander a startled look before Diego was pulling him away from the scene, though this time it seemed like more of a rescue. He sat where Diego led him, perching on the side of the tavern steps and wrapping his arms around his burning stomach. After everything that had happened that day, he wasn't too keen on Diego leaving him alone, but he didn't say anything as Diego retreated back into the bar.

Then that loud Scottish woman started talking to him. He'd seen her around a few times before with Victor, but he hadn't talked to her before. He tended to avoid most of the tavern patrons.

"Uh, I didn't really apply," he muttered, "Diego did." He wasn't really sure what to say, but he was glad to meet a pirate that didn't seem that awful and/or aggressive. "I'm Jim," that sounded more grown up than Jimmy, "but I guess most people do call me Jimmy."

Just a moment," Niamh turned away from Haytham and towards Diego, who had just sauntered through the bar yet again even after the millionth time she'd told him he wasn't allowed in. She just blinked at him when he told her Jimmy wasn't feeling well and then out a long, irritated breath, rubbing her hand against her face. "What did you do to the poor kid, Diego?" She paused, "you know what, I don't want to know." She turned away for a moment, sighing as she pulled out one of the last mugs that remained after the bar fight. A moment later she turned back around with a glass full of water and slid it across the bar to Diego's waiting hand.

"Don't kill the kid, please, and for the last time, get out of my tavern." While Niamh wasn't particularly nice to Diego, they had a strange brother-sister like bond. She didn't want him in her tavern, but she'd always be there if he got himself into trouble, and he'd done just that numerous times.

She watched him turn around and scurry back off towards the entrance.

The drumming of fingers then brought her attention to Kenn, "Now what can I do for you, Kennyboy?"
 
Kenn snorted at Niamh and Diego's interaction. He had seem them speaking before, and every time it was pretty funny. Most times, it would end with Diego being kicked out, even if he had already been banned. He wondered for a moment if Diego kept count; Kenn probably would have, and made it into a game of sorts. His attention snapped back to Niamh, and he smiled.

It had been a couple years since he'd pushily flirted with her that first time. Would it be too risky to try again? He decided to take the shot, despite knowing that if things went sour he'd then be stuck with the barmaid for however long the trip would take. He chuckled. "Just a cold glass of water, Niamh, though I don't think anything could be as refreshing as you," he flirted. He put his chin in his hand, pulling his wallet out of his pocket with his other hand. "After all, it won't be good for me to get drunk when we'll be sailing soon, I believe." It was a subtle, unintentional jab at Victor.
 
The reaction Jimmy gave him was to be expected from one who looked so timid, so frail. The one he'd received from Diego however caused Alexander to quirk a brow, the subtle curiosity he felt before blossoming into a full fledged desire to know more about the pair of similarly aged youths. Waiting just long enough so that he wouldn't, hopefully, arouse suspicion or ire, Luci would rise and follow the two back into the tavern.

But he wouldn't approach them, at least not directly. Instead, his long stride would take him towards the bar, seating himself just beside Kenn and as close to opposite of Niamh as he could be. These two seemed to know each other, and Luci didn't want to interrupt whatever moment might be happening. So, instead, he'd take his rucksack off his shoulders and begin to rummage about inside, making a mental inventory of his possessions.

A couple of limes, a few lemons, a couple of multipurpose tools (a hatchet, thread and needle, and a pair of sheets to name a few), the rest of his coinage which was below its normal amount thanks to the new boots he wore, and his journal.

He was only missing one thing. "Excuse me, bar keep." Luci began. "I don't wish to interrupt, but may I trouble you for a bottle of your cheapest, strongest red wine?"
 
Victor was pleased that Niemh was going. She needed to get out and this was her exit ticket, and he would be there to keep an eye on her. He was minding his own until the other man mentioned about not drinking before sailing out and he laughed outright. "Keep telling yerself that. I been sailing these seas since before you was a twinkle in your mother's eye." Then he winked, "Being a bit drunk helps ya practice for yer sealegs." With that drop of supposedly drunken wisdom Victor saw himself out. He had a bag of coins to procure to help pay for the repairs of the Whistling Donkey.

At his end of the bar Haytham groaned, quietly, into his hands. He liked that the girl called Niemh was going as she seemed to know how to knock around heads a bit. He nodded in response. "We will set sail tomorrow morning." It was the same information he'd shared with the rest of his newly hired crew. He stood, though, needing to follow after Victor.

He would be needing to see that ship tonight in case the drunk was poorly mistaken in his ship. If Victor didn't actually have a ship, he'd have to figure out a way to get one for their journey. He followed after the old bastard and the two walked together in the street. "Is it true, then, that you have a ship?"

"Aye," The old man responded.

Haytham waited for him to continue but Victor said nothing. "Can I see it, then?"

"I thought that's where we was walking to."

"Right."

Haytham followed the old man down to the docs and down to the end where a ship was floating. "Here she is." Victor presented with a wobbly bow. Haytham eyed the ship, thoughtfully; written in white lettering on the side, in surprisingly neat script, were the words Obscure. "She was a gift from the Blackburne twins," Victor said, rocking on his feet. Haytham nodded. "The name is a nod to them as well."

"You really sailed with the twins?"

"Aye." And not seeming interested in any more conversation, the old man climbed the ship. "It's where I sleep," he explained. He waved at Haytham once he'd reached the top, "See ya in the mornin'."

With the ship settled, Haytham needed to find a place to stay for the night.

Meanwhile, Victor was finding a young boy to take the bag of gold to the Whispering Donkey.
 
Diego wasn't exactly sure what's he was seeing, but it was impressive. Drifty had managed to not only intercept a lady, but guide her back to the bar she had just left, and was currently having her swoon using words he thought more suited to those 'heroes' from fairy tales. He knew the guy was good looking, but he didn't realise those stories about him pulling home groups of girls had actual merit. The amount of sheer confidence was hilarious. What would be even more hilarious, would be ruining the scene.

Diego places his cup down on the counter, sliding it along the top and behind the woman as he makes a show of stumbling in between the duo, crashing into Drifty causing them both to stumble, Drifty catching him as the two almost crash to the ground together. "Oh, dang, sorry about that Drifter. Guess there was some leftover blood from the fight huh?" Grins Diego up at Drifty, before glancing at the lady he was with before looking back. "Oh, shit, sorry again. Whoops."

Looking at the lady, he gives her a light hearted grin. "Watch yourself around this one lady, he's a charmer." He laughs before quickly dashing past the still processing Drifty, snatching the water from the bench as he does so and making his way out. Just as he steps out into the cool air of night, he holds up the belt he had unclasped from Drifty, mere seconds before the pair of pants the item was responsible for holding up dropped to the floor.

Struggling to contain his laughter as he glances back at the sight, he quickly dashes out of the view of anyone in the bar, looking back in time (laughter now emanating freely as he clutches his stomach) to avoid crashing into some redhead that had been hanging out near Jimmy. Stopping abruptly, he ducks around her to deliver the cup of water to Jimmy (It may or may not be less than it originally started out to be. Antics cost time and resources after all).

"'ere. Drink up. Should help." He says as he passes the cup to the teen, who quickly gulps down half of the water. Looking back at the redhead, he points both fingers at her in mild confusion. "And you're...?"
 
Duncan Mclauden

Dusk was nearing and it was about time to crawl out of the little makeshift shanty by the coast. No one bothered his place made of driftwood. Wasn't much, didn't smell good, and the only thing of value was the flask of rum that he carried on his person. If there was chance to steal a barrel off an incoming ship he would be set for another couple of weeks. Guards had been watching the rum stock more carefully on the ships lately and he hadn't the chance to get anything. Usually he could do an odd job here or there for a meal, but there was never enough work to pay for the rum unless he chanced getting aboard a ship.

Tucking the flask away into his vest pocket the man swayed like the sea with each step. Snapping his fingers he twirled haphazardly up the hill and continued with his jaunty half drunk dance. Reaching the second dock he stared at the wood for a moment and then swung one leg in an exaggerated motion over the small rung and caught his toe on the second foot. Hitting the dock with a solid thud he grunted. "Damnation!" Peeling himself off the dock he grumbled and picked at the slivers that stuck to his calloused hands. None of it hurt so much as his pride. Wiping at the front of his clothing and smoothing the wrinkled cloth he resumed his little dance. They might have an odd job to do at the Whistling Donkey. Perhaps enough for him to have the barmaid fill his flask and give him a splash in a mug on the side.

Just to be sure that he had his flask Duncan rubbed the vest pocket and felt the familiar little case. His vest was worn where the flash rode and it was obvious that he carried one. The vest was threadbare in the exact outline of the flask and his rubbing the spot to ensure he had his rum with didn't help the condition of his clothing. Duncan noticed a poster hanging on a building in the street. He didn't consider himself particularly fortunate to be sober enough to read, but it was advertising a need for a crew. Specifically a pirate crew and he could do that so long as they didn't already have a cook.

Duncan whistled softly as he finished reading. Sounded like a poor fella that would be easy enough to steal from if he happened to lose his courage. Might be a good opportunity to get some more rum and plenty of it. Turning on his heel he grinned at the man walking past. "Yah see this 'ere. Aye, yah goot da look of a shrewd man. Aye, I cook for dah crew." By the look he got from the man Duncan could only grin wider showing off his rum stained teeth. "Yah wouldn't be Mr. Hathum would ye?" It was perhaps a poor pronunciation of the name, but he made his best attempt. "Pay meh in barrels of rum for da kitchen and meh flask." Patting the flask in his vest pocket he chuckled lightly. "Ne'er a better cook den mehself. Duncan Mclauden." Slurring his name heavily he held out a hand for the man to shake. If it was indeed Mr. Haytham it was surely a deal. Most crew tried to avoid the kitchens, but they were truly missing out on the best of the work. Good rum was more than enough to keep a man below decks and plenty happy for it.
 
Twila was almost surprised when another lad almost crashed into her in his efforts to hand Jimmy the water. She may have been taken aback, but she was oddly amused in his rush. She let out a hearty laugh and clapped the new lad on the back, well more like his shoulder. "Ya' darn near knocked me over. What an amusing su'prise. Well lad my name's Twila. But most people know me as the 'Devil's Grin'. D'ya know why? It's okay if ya' don't." She smiled and removed her hand from his shoulder, looking him up and down. In an, 'aha' moment Twila snapped her fingers. "Ahh. Ya' must be the lad Diego tha' Jimmy spoke of. He said ya' applied the two of ya' for the man who was gathering a crew 'ere earlier. Looks like we'll be seeing a lot o' each other out to sea hm?"

She paused for a moment when she saw Victor and Haytham exit the tavern. When they began to walk in the direction of the docks however, she figured that Victor was going to show him the ship. It was a beauty that Twila had had the pleasure of sailing on many times before. She couldn't wait to be back on it out in the water again. The sea breeze was often a refreshing relaxation for her. Coming back to reality she looked back at Jimmy and Diego, specifically turning to Diego. "Ah lad I a'ready told Jimmy here this, but there's a passed out man off to the side over there." Twila paused to point to the side of the tavern. "If he wakes up soon jus' tell him to go back home for the night. As for you two lads, you'd best be gettin' settled for the night. I'm assumin' we'll be headin' out t'morrow morn." Twila nodded to herself and pointed to the tavern. "I'm gonna check to see if Niamh has any rooms available for the night, but I'll see ya' t'morrow." She smiled once more and turned to the tavern doors, opening them and walking up to the bar. She saw a man trying to charm a female and scrunched up her nose. She did admit he was kind of attractive, but not overall somebody Twila would go for. The charmers like him put her off whether he was good looking or not.

Leaning against the bar, Twila looked over the other way and this time saw another man she had seen apply for the crew. He had a pack with him, most likely containing all of his belongings. She took in his appearance, not Italian and definitely not from around here. Doesn't look German or Russian, maybe English? Yeah, that had to be it. Especially since the curly blonde hair the man had. It wasn't too often you'd see blonde hair in the Caribbean, most of the people with hair that color are foreigners who ended up here on accident or on a ship. Shrugging her shoulders to Scot turned back to the front of the bar and raised a hand to Niamh. "Oi' Niamh, d'ya got any rooms for the night? Don't feel like sleepin' out on Victor's ship. Especially since we'll most likely be leavin' port t'morrow. Ah, are ya' comin' along this time? It'd be nice ta' 'ave a level headed person around to keep us in line, well, more like to keep Victor in line." Twila laughed but then looked straight at her. "Oi', don't tell 'im I said tha'. He'll whoop my arse if he knew." He probably would kick her arse too, 'adopted' or not. (Assuming the tavern has rooms?)
 
Quite a bit of the water happened to miss Jimmy's mouth from the way he was greedily chugging back the liquid. He had snatched the cup away from Diego with quite a bit of vigour, pausing only to let out a breathy thank you.

His attention was only taken away from the cup of water when he finally finished it and he blinked up at Twila as she explained how there was a knocked out drunk guy somewhere at the side of the tavern. Apparently Twila had told him that earlier, but he wasn't really listening if he was honest; he was too busy trying not to hurl all over her shoes at that point.

After she left he turned to Diego, "she's right. We should probably get some sleep somewhere. Uh, you can come sleep at mine, I guess, if you have no where else to go."


"No other women around to flirt with?" Niamh snorted, rolling her eyes. She was quite used to men flirting with her, and while Kenn was certainly one of the most attractive to do so (and she happened to find him very attractive, not that that was much of a surprise, everyone else did so too), she was never one to lose her cool. Instead of flushing the dark red that she would've when she was younger and new to barkeeping, she just turned around and filled up a mug with the requested water.

She pushed it across to him, chuckling as Victor fired back his remark to Kenn, "I wouldn't mess with Victor if I were you." She then noticed a younger man had taken the seat beside Kenn and once he finished shuffling through his bag she crouched down to pull out one of their cheaper wine bottles (one of the few that had survived the numerous fights at the tavern). "The name's Niamh, by the way, not barkeep."

And then Twila came up. It had been an oddly busy night.

Most people went to the Inn across the way when they needed rooms, but the Whistling Donkey still had a few just in case people were too drunk to make their way home, mostly because Niamh and her mother didn't want to have the blame if some poor man drowned in his own vomit trying to get back. Niamh also tended to let the patrons she knew fairly well crash there for free if they needed a place to stay, and Twila had already stayed in the tavern a few times, so there was certainly no problem with her staying there again.

"Aye, go right ahead. All three are open tonight so take your pick," she grinned at the Scottish woman. "The rest of you need to either request a room or get your arses out of my tavern." Niamh was also ready to hit the sack, especially if she was meant to get up bright and early to leave.
 
The commotion from a bar drew some curious people from the streets. A tall, shady figure was one of them. He didn't go inside, though, not willing to take a fist to the face, or a bottle to the head. Bar fights ended with a few clients at his door in the mornings, though, so it wasn't all bad news.
Even after it toned down a bit, he didn't go inside, watching from the entrance of a different bar where he had been earlier, flask in hand. A little group of people came out, a few went back in, a couple left towards the dock... and then one man came back. He followed him with his eyes. Seemed like he was going up the street.
Some words got to him. -trip, ship, siling... mr. Hay...something- it made Néstor arch an eyebrow, and drew his attention to one of the several posters he had seen earlier during the day, one advertisimg for a crew. A man needed a crew, Mr. Hayham. A smirk formed on his lips.
He knew there weren't many other doctors in town, and the ones that were there were too old to adventure out into the sea. But he had done it before, and he would do it again. Setting off after who he supposed he was Mr. Hayham. Néstor was about to approach him to actually ask when some random drunk decided to do the same before he he had the opportunity. He let out an annoyed huff and listened to the weak attempts at communicating of the man, trying to speak when he probably couldn't even see straight, let alone stand. However, even though the other was clearly not in a very good state of mind, Néstor waited for his turn to speak, standing besides him with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot lightly while looking down at the men.
 
When the Whistling Donkey finally empties, and just before Niemh locks up for the night, a young boy of about ten shows up at the door. There's a bag of coin with him and he drops it on the counter. "For repairs," the young boy explains and then he, incredibly frightened by what would happen if his mother found out he'd entered the tavern, high tails out of the tavern.

Haytham could see the rickety sign of the Nassau inn and he sighed in relief. When the drunk stumbled across his path the bespectacled scientist winced back. The rum was heavy on his breath, heavier than on Victor's even. He wanted to feed the crew. He was a smart man, but he became a little narrow minded at times and it was something he hadn't exactly considered. "Ah, yes. A cook, we've been looking." They'd have to discuss pay but the man didn't look sober enough to remember the agreed upon terms. "We leave at dawn."

Wide eyes blinked as he realized that there was another man waiting to speak with him. "Uh, yessir?" This night would never end.
 
Drift grabbed the drunk as he stumbled into him and his companion, a toothy scowl set on his lips as he reached out with his other hand to steady the maiden. After an awkward encounter, he thought he felt a slight tightening around his waist, and then sudden release, but it was covered up by Diego's sudden escape. The man stood from his place at the bar, not sure what he was going to do; follow the boy or track down the barmaid who still hadn't brought them any alcohol when chilly air touched places they shouldn't and he glanced down just in time to watch his breeches fall and Vivien gasped, though she quickly covered it with a hand and jerked her head to the side, looking away.

Drift let out a breathy snarl, as his hypnotic gaze cut towards the door, but Diego was gone along with his belt and he was standing in the middle of the tavern in his bloomers. Taking a deep, steadying breath he forced his annoyance aside especially when he realized Vivien had snapped out of the charm at the sudden display. "Well look at that," he bellowed lightheartedly, "You managed to get me out of my pants after all." He laughed, stepped out of the puddle of cloth and leather just as Niamh yelled for everyone to get out. "Barkeep, you didn't call Last Call." Drift noticed, even though he was heading for the door anyways, apparently uncaring of his half-dressed state as he twirled his breeches like a flag and walked confidently out into the hushing street.
---

Vivien sighed as she leaned back against the counter, watching the man leave the tavern. He'd placed a couple coins down at some point, even though he hadn't eaten or drank anything. Shaking her head to clear the last of her groggy head, still feeling the remnants of whatever he had been using to keep her in his companion tugging on the very edges of her consciousness. Not enough to compel her to do anything, but enough to make her want to do something. Particularly follow the man with no humility as he tutted down the street.

"Talk about weird." She muttered, rubbing her face as she picked up the coins and padded over to Niamh where she presented the coin, "Here," she offered, though felt rather inadequate as a child came in about the same time and presented a heavy purse of coin which he handed directly to Niamh. "I'd say you've got an admirer." Vivien chuckled, eying the purse questionably.
 
The man waiting before Haytham offered him his hand to shake.
"Néstor Martín García, and you're Mr. Haytham" He said, his voice had a thick spanish accent.
"I'm joining your crew, I assume you've got your fair share of mindless adventurers and excited kids to take with you. Now, I'm a temporarily resident doctor here at Nassau, and I'm sure you're still in need of one to look after the sorry arses of your crew, as well as yourself. So my time here in Nassau is over. All I want is to get out of here, the pay is secondary, will you have me?"
He kept a straight face the whole time, having only offered a short lived grin at the start, when he was telling the good man his name.
 
A doctor? That was another thing Haytham hadn't considered. Perhaps he was in denial that he was having to hire pirates to get this job done and was pretending these were all upstanding Gentlemen of Britain. Haytham sighed, "We'd be glad to have you aboard." The scientist offered his hand to the doctor. There was the matter of payment, that Haytham hadn't quite figured as he'd already divvied up (at least in his mind) where all the coin is going to go. Give him a minute of brief calculation before he can offer a reasonable payment. It might not be as much as another ship would offer, but it was all he had. "We will be setting sail in the morning and I don't mean to be rude but it has been an incredibly long day," he nodded his head in the direction of the inn, "and I must be heading to bed."

After a proper goodbye to both men (even if one of the men were drunk), Haytham headed to the inn. He slept fitfully that night.

The next morning he was at the docks with the sun, waiting where most would arrive at the docks in order to lead them to Victor's ship. The old man was already aboard, of course, but Haytham had seen the looks on surprise on some faces when Victor mentioned the ship. He'd been surprised himself.

When all, or a majority of them, had gathered he led them down the docs to Victor's ship. Haytham knew very little about the vessels but Victor seemed proud.

The ship could easily hold over a 100 men (and women!); it was about 75 feet in length, weighed about 140 tons, and held 12 guns. It was a little big for their venture and their crew, but Haytham figured they might pick up a little extra help along the way. Double masted (the foremast square-rigged, as in a brig, the main mast being rigged as in a schooner), the Brigantine was in surprisingly good condition when one considers the owner. The cargo hold was large making the ship perfect for trade and preferable for prolonged battles. "She'll hold up well against a kraken," Grinned Victor from above.

Haytham really hoped that Victor was joking and that krakens were not real.
 
Carlos had been pacing the streets, creased parchment folded in his trouser pocket. Some crew search it was, didn't even offer any contact details other than the employer's name. But still, the man wanted on. It'd been some time he'd set foot on a ship. Hell, it'd been some time since anyone let him into their crew. Not because of any sort of incompetency but because the moment he opens his trap about the Kraken, he manages to ruin whatever impression any potential employers had of him. And at this point, he'd be down for anything that would take him offshore. And he's really starting to regret, for some reason, finding about this just now. Heard these parchments had been all over the place since yesterday.

But of course, he just had to sleep through most of the day. Passed out in the afternoon on the loo and then didn't wake up until the janitor noticed him. Not like he had any clue where to get signed up for this really. Maybe he'd have better luck stowing away instead. But then there was the uncertainty of where the ship would even go.

He was awoken early that morning. Could barely remember the dream, only that he woke up drenched in sweat. He figured he'd visit the docks. At least he knew some of the people there who didn't seem to mind his kraken talk. Actually, talk of krakens wasn't the first thing Carlos had expected to hear from someone else that morning. But it was.

The dark haired fellow turned his head at breakneck speed. The word had came from a seasoned old pirate whose name Carlos knew at some point but never bothered to actually remember.

"Kraken?" He looks at the old man and then to the person he had been apparently talking to - some bespectacled fella who is Definitely Not A Pirate. "What's - what's this about a kraken?"

Krakens were totally real.
 
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