12th Limestone, 1057, Early Autumn:
Kalen paces the planks in front of her assembled crew. Her trained eyes pore over every scar, piercing, and leathery neck of the salty dogs assembled before her.
She attempts to stifle her disappointment as she catalogs the writhing mass of dwarven waste slopped onto her beautiful deck.
'The beardless one ...' she notes, 'can't keep his eyes on me. He's a shifty little prick. I'll need to watch him or my crew count may come up short.'
'Fishgut Led looks like a hot headed young buck. I'd better ask Boucher to water down his grog or he may end up in a fishes gut after all.'
She stops her pacing, eyes locking on 'Q-Tip', a salty wench. Q-Tip stiffens up as her new captain approaches. Kalen steps so close Q-Tip is forced to rock back on her heels, keenly aware of the tumultuous deeps stirring inches behind her.
The captain's hands come up in a flash of movement and the crew all await the familiar splash of a sinking dwarf, but are shocked to see Kalen's hands go not for the neck, or to push her overboard, but grab firmly onto Q-Tips heaving breasts.
Kalen digs her fingers in, squeezing hard as Q-Tip gasps, trying not to yelp.
"STRAP THESE DOWN, WENCH. Last bitch to show cleavage on my deck got a fish hook through both tits. These boys will be having enough trouble dodging my boot, they don't need to be distracted by these," ... she clenched her fingers again, Q-Tips knees knocking as she tries not to pass out, "flabby pathetic little buds." Kalen releases her, noting that she never cried out.
Q-Tip gasps for air and grabbed on to the ships rail, clutching her chest.
"WHO else thinks this is a pleasure cruise?" Kalen calls out, her voice booming out like it was born of the cruel ocean waves.
"We are not here to make friends, we are not here to fuck, and we are not here for fame and glory," Kalen shouted, her spine plank-stiff as she addresses her men.
'Now is the time,' she thinks, pacing again, 'to get these maggots into line. If I don't exert complete control, we may have another ..." She unconsciously runs her fingers up her left arm. '1, 2, 3, 4 ...' counting the crescent of scars, shark tooth holes that burn whenever a gust passes the salty air across her crackled skin.
She doesn't mind the burning. Each one of those scars burns for a dwarf who ended up in the belly of that shark.
Kalen stops, turns to her crew.
"Boucher, get in the kitchen. Imp, get your fat ass up that mast and into the crows nest, if you see a shark," she grates through her pearly teeth, "it better be dead by the time you tell me about it."
"SIGURD!"
The young dwarf stiffened up, his eyes resting on her beard, afraid to see his own doom reflected in her leathery face, "Grab that axe and head below decks, we've got some fish heads that need to be chopped off. Oh and while you're at it", Kalen said, amused, "squirt some of that fish blood on all that leather you're packin', or these waves will make you the first Naked Viking ever to crew a pirate ship".
"Jaina, Q-Tip, you'll be assisting Duncana in taking stock of our provisions. If I find one fucking drop of my booze has gone missing, I'll rip all your tits off and throw them to the whales."
"Fishgut, Horatio, head to the armory and find something sharp to play with."
The crew chuckled as they grabbed their rucksacks and headed below deck, most of them going the wrong direction, weaving through the beams and piles of coiled rope. 'I'm gonna be picking splinters out of these fresh fishes asses for this entire journey, aren't I', Kalen thought.
The three remaining dwarves standing before her, the beardless, her assistant, and the pale skinny fellow called the Professor looked concerned about not having been assigned a job yet.
"You there, pasty faced landlubber" The professor knew she was talking about him. "You're not to go anywhere near anything dangerous until you've got your sea legs. You're to be my cartographer. There's a sextant in the galley and a map in the officers deck. Do you know what happens to navigators when a pirate ship goes off course?" The professor knew. He shouldered his pack and moved carefully to the hatch, giving his entire mind to the task of not ... falling ... down.
"Beardless Bob, eh", she muttered, sauntering up to him. "I've seen infants with bigger beards than you. You look like a mutant human, and I don't like humans on my deck."
"Gunpowder accident, sir" he said, his raspy voice rattling like a ships sail.
"Great, an inept baby faced pyromaniac as my only cannon officer. This will be a treat. I need you to work with Duncana to find out if we have enough supplies aboard to fashion some ballistas and cannons before we get into dangerous waters. If you can't find something below decks, we'll tie a rope to you and let you check at the bottom of the ocean."
Bob snarled as he moved past her, coming just inches from her face. Kalen did not move, nor meet his shifty eyes.
"SKIPPER, eh?" She said to the last remaining ugly pile of dwarf on her pristine deck. "You'll be my assistant it seems."
'Oh dear god ...', Skipper thought, his balls shriveling under the icy gaze of his new master. 'I joined the crew to get away from my wife, this frigid bitch looks like she'd cook my wife up and throw her to the dogs ...'
Kalen wrapped her arm around Skippers shoulders, half-snarling, half-smiling, "You're bunks upstairs, next to mine." She locked eyes with him and grabbed his crotch with her left hand. Skipper winces, wondering if his reproducing days are over. "I better not EVER see these little cannon balls in my quarters. You will sleep, eat, piss, and die with your pants on, you got it?"
"Yes sir", he whimpered, an octave higher than he would've liked.
Kalen shoved him towards the stairs before wiping her hand in disgust amongst the sea-foam that was now alone with her on the deck.
With her crew out of sight, she glanced up at the sails, licking the wind like a cat at the milk. She grabbed the railing and ran her calloused scarred hands across the wood, splinters breaking off and falling to the ocean after failing to penetrate her stone-like skin. She felt her ship creak and groan below her, telling her all about these new rodents infesting it's innards.
'It's okay baby,' she thought, caressing the rail, her scars burning in the salty air, 'I'll kill every last one of them before they take you away from me."
[ March 06, 2008: Message edited by: valcon ]
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Topic: Pirates of the Fondled Waters (Community Pirate Ship) (Read 72358 times)