Post by Zoilus on Mar 6, 2018 23:54:16 GMT
Vigo watched the First Mate as he did his little song and dance. For all their boasting, he found that royal marines, no matter what petty little principality they had the misfortune of coming from, always overestimated themselves, and with a crew as motley as the Beetle's, this had to be a bluff. Of course, these thoughts came before Rackham came bellowing out of his cabin, and that demanded a response.
"You're a fool if you think you think you can slip in and out of Bashny without a target on your back, and double the fool if you think the Alendronians will keep their word. If that too-pretty bitch doesn't throw us back in a cell, Bashny's survivors will hunt us to the end of the world! You know how Talcaer kill men? They flay them. Impale them. Castrate them. You die broken, and begging, and for what the Alendronians want us to do, that will be the least of it. You want to survive? You want to make some real money? Throw down your mops and kitchen knives, and tie up Rackham and Smitty. I'm not like my countrymen, unmerciful, they'll both get to sail away on the lifeboat." He twirled his dagger, grinning.
"Besides, we ain't the only mutineers. You'll have to kill half the ship to stop us, and then what will you do?" He snapped his fingers, and his men barred their weapons, nasty looking knives, swords and flails from the ship's hidden caches. "But, I'm thinking...you won't make it that far."
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Zoz could hear commotion from all over the ship, and it was too early to tell how things were going. Nothing was more damn frustrating than not knowing, but at least the boat was ready, and she had a few days supplies. For two. But still....wait.
Out of the corner of her eye, through the storm, she saw it, right in front of the Beetle. "Artis, no-"
"You're a fool if you think you think you can slip in and out of Bashny without a target on your back, and double the fool if you think the Alendronians will keep their word. If that too-pretty bitch doesn't throw us back in a cell, Bashny's survivors will hunt us to the end of the world! You know how Talcaer kill men? They flay them. Impale them. Castrate them. You die broken, and begging, and for what the Alendronians want us to do, that will be the least of it. You want to survive? You want to make some real money? Throw down your mops and kitchen knives, and tie up Rackham and Smitty. I'm not like my countrymen, unmerciful, they'll both get to sail away on the lifeboat." He twirled his dagger, grinning.
"Besides, we ain't the only mutineers. You'll have to kill half the ship to stop us, and then what will you do?" He snapped his fingers, and his men barred their weapons, nasty looking knives, swords and flails from the ship's hidden caches. "But, I'm thinking...you won't make it that far."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zoz could hear commotion from all over the ship, and it was too early to tell how things were going. Nothing was more damn frustrating than not knowing, but at least the boat was ready, and she had a few days supplies. For two. But still....wait.
Out of the corner of her eye, through the storm, she saw it, right in front of the Beetle. "Artis, no-"
