What to say about shiny that hasn’t already been said? This is what, the third funeral we are having and that is just this week! Shiny my friend if you are in Besmara’s waiting room tell her your not ready yet, I am sure she will understand. Though each death you suffer saddens us all as long as the precious oils hold out we need not say goodbye for long. So lets grease her up and roll the dice captain… who knows maybe she will be an Orc this time, I can imagine her with tusks.

Some say he was less than human.
I say he was 50% human 50% orc 5% timber and 20% shark ….you do the math. No wonder he got confused sometimes.
Some say he was a vicious, bloodthirsty pirate.
I say damn straight, one of the best.
Some say he was not to be trusted.
I say that I trusted him with my life and he never let me down.
Some say he once fired a halfling bard from a ballistae.
I say it was bloody hilarious.
Some say he wasn’t afraid to screw with Besmara.
I say it was just her priestess, but still a brave move.
Some say he is gone.
I say my friend and I will meet again on the decks of Besmara’s fleet.

Now drink ya scum for Ratpeg, at pirate’s pirate.

Let me introduce myself, my name is Seldolon, and i have been at sea for most of my life, I may be a handsome looking Elf, but my role and reputation often see’s me alone below deck, either fixing a leak or chopping a limb. At least the saw dust is good for covering the blood!
I hailed from a small coastal fishing village, Its name i have long since forgotten. My parents were killed when I was a lad, the result of a rather brutal pirate attack that saw a good number of my friends and neighbors taken into indentured servitude aboard their ship. After many years of grueling work I and several others, those that remained of our tribe escaped and we have since spread out, some freely onto other ships, some in ports and some into Besmara’s embrace.

The start of my current adventure saw me in port peril, in an alley beside the Formidably Maid; it contained a false damsel, two men and two saps, (me and the weapon). To cut a long story short I was press ganged into service, a fate I expected to continue for many more years under the cruel free pirate Barnabas Harrigan.
All that changed when through Bravery, Courage and i suspect some well played luck, a new ship was obtained, the lying wench, and i quickly and gratefully took up the role of ships carpenter and surgeon under the careful eye of its new captain, Morgan Reeves.

As a member of the crew, i have watched our officers as they have grown into their roles, but even when we were all fresh slaves together they were a league apart from the rest of us regular crew, some of it caused from jealousy from our former officers and some of it born from a mutual protection and trust, and some from the greatness that they each wore like a mantle. They always stood by each other, stood up for each other and watched each others backs. Morgan the natural leader, Rat Peg, a friend (rest his soul in Besmara’s graces) and Shiny, there brawn tempered with compassion. Mara, the exotic beauty with hidden talent and Azothil, talent and drive to seek out what ever it is he searches for. I would have dearly loved to have been a part of that, but my role on the ship has kept me busy at all hours, performing repairs to both man and ship.

While on board ship i have had the chance to observe, chop and mend nearly every member of this most unlikely of crews and find that i fit in better with them than any other crew i have served with. As a wandering soul, looking for a family and place to belong, I genuinely believe that this Lying Wench can give that to me. My hope is that one day i will be given the chance to prove myself to this crew.

In the mean time i will continue to saw and chop and build and destroy, all to keep our home afloat and our family together.

In the midst of the storm wracked sea,
the clouds as black as night.
Mara called the wind to fill the sails
then the wench’s pet took flight.

Across the waves the ship did fly
as if the storm was hardly a verse.
Down the waves to where her prey did loll
becalmed by Mara’s curse.

Along the decks the Chelaxians swarmed
the war galleys captain in Mara’s sight.
Dear Captain Mc Mollok, lay down your arms
you will not win this fight.

For the sea salt spray runs in my veins
the ghosts of friends past drive me on.
So I will not rest till your days are over
till all trace of you is gone.

The captain’s bravado bubbled forth
as he commanded his crew to hold fast.
He did not feel his life’s moments draining
trickling down to his very last.

In my dear friends memory, Mara said,
I offer your crew one last chance.
Stand down and live for another day
else it’s under the water you’ll dance.

The Chelaxians shouted defiance
as Mara sadly shook her head.
With a whispered word the waves crashed down
pounding till all on the galley were dead.

The storm dispelled, the sea grew calm
so the crew fished for treasure by suns rise.
While Mara sent birds to tell the others,
of her plans and Mc Molloks demise.

The ocean gasps against soft sand,
Relief from the storm at last.
Waves caress a calloused hand,
Clenched as Valeria stands fast.

The other guys smirk,
“Oh look, we got a fighter”
A little girl surrounded by dirt,
Terrified – every inch of her fibre.

Her fist flies forward, her target found
One cries, his nose broken
blood spilt, just a drop on the ground
and she glares, not a word spoken

The men hesitate and then rush in
Barely a fight, she’s knocked down
This is where heroes begin
in the dirt, downtown.

She’s left alone, broken and bleeding
Her tears eventually dry-up
She pulls herself together, her sorrow fleeting
“I’m gonna clean this place up.”

There once was a girl from Port Peril,
Who liked to keep herself quite sterile,
She got knocked the head,
Poisoned ’til dead,
And brought back as an elf for a chuckle.

‘Three fathoms captain. They called three fathoms.’
‘I heard the Gods cursed call Mr. Cog, We’re holding course.’
The Lying Wench cruised on implacable, the sea a hissing shimmer of sound as her bow cut through it. The Shackles Sea is clear and blue and wicked and entirely beautiful.
There was blood on my face. It had stiffened into a mask and soaked my clothes, made black scimitars under my nails. Looking along the crimson sheen of the deck, I saw a severed hand lying there forgotten, browning in the sun. Momentarily the violence of the morning came back, bright and unbelievable. As I shifted, easing my shoulders out from under the memory, my boot soles came off the soaked deck planking with little sucking rips of sound that made my stomach churn. My face, as always, retained its slightly amused smile. Far astern a pack of gulls shrieked greedily as they feasted on the corpses.
‘Two fathoms and a half!’ shouted the leadsman in the starboard forechains.
‘We’ll scrape the arse out of her if we’re not careful’, Ratpeg said in his deep burr.
I glanced aft, to where a tense group of my crew were standing with axes, ready to send the anchor plunging from the quarter and bring us to an undignified halt. Shiny stood amongst them, her hair, somehow, still immaculate. She nodded gravely as she caught my eye.
‘We’ll rein her in quick enough, if it comes to that’ I said. I managed what I hoped was a confident grin. Hell, I was actually starting to enjoy this.
Forward of us the crew stood in the waist and upon the fo’c’sle like things frozen, listening for the yell of the leadsman as he swung out the tallow bottomed lead and felt for the seabed which was running under the keel of the ship at a good five knots. Shoal water – treacherous sandbank riddled bad ground with the rocks they called the assassins somewhere in its midst.
‘Even if they can’t follow us their catapults can still reach’ murmured Azothil in his strange tongue. ‘The Assassins are close captain, I can feel it.’
I was not sure if he meant the rocks or the three Chelaxian Galleons that had been chasing us since we sunk one of their fellows that morning. My Azlanti still needs work.
I was looking closely at the approaching coastline of Mokatu Isle, my hand resting lightly on the wheel, going by feel and gut rather than any set course. Finally I saw them, the spire of rock rising from the jungle and the great tree, twisted like a whores promise. Straight from my dream. Dream or prophecy, call it what you will, it was sent from Besmara. I knew it was no normal dream as she was wearing clothes in this one. Goddess I hoped it wasn’t a normal dream. From those landmarks I could calculate the position needed, almost there…, almost there…
‘Cut it’ I laughed, just as Ratline called from the crows nest, ‘Sail ho’.
I say this for my crew, they trust me. That or they are all scared of Shiny, as they cut the balance line, the counterweight sending the anchor plunging into the shallow sea. A grinding lock, shit, there were rocks down their, close. The anchor chain groaned and The Lying Wench heaved to one side as we came to a sudden stop. Spinning the wheel madly I locked us in irons, dead in the wind. Charred sail flapping, crew all looking at me expectantly, me grinning like a madman.
‘Now we wait’ it came out like a cross between a chuckle and a challenge. Ratpeg loomed, Mara muttered some arcane words and the crew settled back to their tasks.
Ratline called out regular updates on the approaching galleons. Every time the crew would look my way, see my grin, then look away. The tide started to turn, four hours early, about time; even I was starting to doubt. It quickened going out to sea at a pace I had never seen before.
‘Batten down ye scurvy mugs’ I called ‘Full storm rig. Jump to it or you’ll be swimming to hell within the hour’. They looked at me like I was mad; the day was calm, gentle breeze, no storm in the offing. The tide quickened, the water went down like a pirates pants in a brothel. We hit bottom, they were all glancing at me, nervous like. The Wench lurched over to one side. Bugger me, the water was all gone, just like that. The Galleons were being sucked away on that mad tide. The crew gave a ragged uncertain cheer.
‘Not yet lads’ I laughed, they’ll be coming back fast.
Ratline did not call when he saw the wave. He just swung down from the crows nest like a drunken monkey and started tying himself to the mast. Good idea that.
‘Haul that anchor in’ I yelled ‘and every man make fast, storm lines all.’
They heard it in my voice. No laughter, no jokes, for the first time they looked genuinely scared. Then we saw the wave. A monster. A tidal wave to beat them all, looming like a mountain range and coming fast. Two of the Galleons were surfing on her, out of control. As we watched one started to roll, then tumble like an acrobat that’s been fired from a catapult. In the next moment she was gone. Fuck.
The water started to rise, I called Shiny and Ratpeg over to the wheel, I needed all the strength we had to spin her once she started. This was going to be fun.

Working on the docks, I got to hear a lot of stories. Stories about legendary Pirates hunting for treasure, about entire fleets of ships being ripped apart by sea monsters; but there is one story that all sailors told at least once. The first time I heard the story, I had just finished my second day working with a bunch of sailors who had just returned from a long voyage along the Slithering Coast. They were surrounded by peasants, all excited to hear a new tale of bloody battles and buxom wenches. And the sailors indulged them a little, talking of fish people who leapt out of the sea and stole folk who would never be seen again, probably eaten or used as some kind of slave in an alternate dimension. But they always got this look in their eye when they started to talk about the Red Shirts. I don’t know if it was respect, pity or pride, but these creatures were the best crew to have on a ship.

Most people describe them as Dwarves. One sailor once said that they were the spawn of Besmara herself, protecting the ships. Some people don’t even speculate, saying that they don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. They are always men, and they always wear a Red Shirt; to attract attention they say.

“The ugly thing stuck it’s spear toward me,” Said one man, “but ole’ Chum wouldn’t ‘ave that. It wouldn’a taken more than a second for the thing to kill ‘im, but I swear on me ma’ms grave, Chum had a grin on his face as he leapt in front o’ me. ‘e saved my life ’e did, and I won’ ever get ta thank him.”
Then he goes on to tell of how the very next time the left port, there was a fellow who looked an awful lot like Chum scrubbing away at the deck, wearing his red shirt. But it couldn’t have been him, because Ole’ Chum was taken to the depths by the monsters that killed him.

There are countless tales just the same, of men getting killed and then being replaced soon after by another. Men, who in their death, save those who have surely been blessed by Besmara.
All I know is, if I’m ever on a boat, I want a Red Shirt by my side.

The Ballad of Captain Morgan

Afloat on the high seas
Comfy hammock for a bed
The slippery bastard Morgan
Lay down his lying head

His crew were all happy
Except for the Dwarves
Whose bodies were floating
Face down by the wharves

The Wench

The lying wench was sailing
A sailing on the sea
And oh but it was laden
With booty nicked from thee

There were comfits in the cabin
And loot stuffed in the hold
The sails were drenched in blood
And the bread was full of mold

The four and twenty pirates
That stood between her decks
Were four and twenty black hearts
With prices on their heads

The Captain steered the Wench
Through gale and heaving seas
And when the ship began to sink
He got down on his knees

Besmara prayed the captain
We’re going in the drink
You wouldn’t want us smellin up
The sea with pirate stink

Oh Captain laughed the Goddess
I’ll save you any time
There’s no place in the after life
For those who cannot rhyme

This is a true tale I swear upon my father’s watery grave may Besmara strike the wind from my sails if it is not.

More dangers lurk upon the sea than Cheliaxian raiders and often when you feel the safest she will lure you into more trouble than a handsome boy in a bath house, or so I have heard told.
The sea was deep and calm when we sought anchor off a shoal of islands too small to bother any map maker. The moon hung low and bright overhead as we drank, sang and shared tales on deck before heading to our bunks, leaving the watch to keep the ship safe.

It was a pleasant dream I was woken from when screams and calls for help sounded from the upper decks. All around me pirates leapt from hammock, weapons at the ready, running for the stairs and I joined the steady stream. Like a bottle of rum uncorked we flowed onto the deck, intent upon the deaths of those who would dare disturb our slumber. One by one my fellows slowed to a slack jawed halt blocking my way so I had to wriggle and push my way to the front to come face to face with 10 of the biggest sea trolls you would ever encounter. Hundreds of sea trolls must name these grandfathers and tonight they would mourn.

Captain Morgan burst from his cabin waving his cutlass and shouting for us to take them before they capsized the ship. I could see Shiny and Ratpeg enter the fray leaping for one of the green haired beasts as it flung a pirate overboard. Shiny king hit it in the ankle and I swear a ripple of pain moved up its leg to end in its oversized skull as its eyes went out like twin light spells extinguished. Ratpeg gave it a casual stab in the throat as he leapt overhead and behind the next one as the first toppled to the decks sending our crewmates running to avoid being crushed. Captain Morgan was making progress on a beast of his own but with each passing second another pirate went in the drink or worse.

Azothil leapt into the water to rescue the unconscious from an untimely death while those still on board tried to assist by clearing the decks of the fallen trolls and generally staying out of the way of live troll and deadly officer alike. As the ugliest troll sized up the main mast thinking to make a toothpick from it I began to call upon the might of the sea storms. Blindingly bright beams cracked from the sky as everyone’s hair lifted on end and the stench of cooked meat filled the air. As my eyesight cleared the last five trolls hit the deck in unison rocking the ship so hard a small tidal wave swept off to drown the islands.

Silence descended once again to be broken by Captain Morgan calling for the healers to attend the wounded below and crews to clean the deck, reminding us all that we way anchor at sunrise which was only a few hours away. We officers shared a smile and a nod as we headed to our assignments knowing the captain never doubted our ability to best our foes and keep the lying wench and her crew sailing the seas. Now who wants to see some sea troll teeth?

It felt good to be at the top of the pecking order again. Not that I was ever really at the bottom, but there’s something about looking out over the water, The Lying Wench in hand. The mutiny went smoothly enough, especially with Shiny by my side. She seemed to enjoy indulging Mr. Plugg in some of her special kind of knuckle sandwich. The kind that not only made teeth fall out, but shattered spines. Seems like the only time she isn’t cleaning is when she’s fighting, and once she’s realized what a mess she’s made, she’s right back at it, scrubbing away. With her on deck, this boat will shine in the sun. Not sure whether that is a good thing or not…

We’d barely set off when I heard the noise on deck and I jumped straight to arms. Well, as well as I could. That hammock is a blessing from Besmara herself. When I spotted the movement in the boat, Shiny stepped up beside me and gave it a clean punch. Turns out it was poor Ratline.

And then there was booming laughter, and of all things, a damned were-shark jumped on deck. All dressed in Rat Peg’s clothes and toothy grin. And then I see a spark of recognition in Shiny’s eyes and all the pieces fall together. Rat Peg is the damned were-shark. When the hell did Shiny find out about it? Why the hell didn’t she say anything?!

Well, I guess it was because her head is screwed on wrong, because she then decided to grapple the creature and got herself bitten. I ended up with the both of them chained in my quarters. Rat Peg seems not to remember anything, but I’m going to have to have some words with Shiny about how to not put everyone on the ship at risk.