Drink up me hearties yo ho! (Currently open; read rules)

[Janice]

Constance wiped the sweat from her brow as she crossed to the back of the car; the comforting sound of coins jingling in her pocket. "Jim," she called out over the ruckus of clients shouting over themselves at the table. Jim was an older man; the bar keep who walked with a limp after an accident that he refused to talk about, he turned regarding her with a shake of his head as he quickly wiped some glasses clean and then filled them to the brim with ale, slamming them onto the counter as a blonde woman grabbed them to cart them off clients. "Jim," she said again clearing her throat as she came to a stop next to him.


"You see the patrons wanting drinks, eh?" He eyed a glass, deciding not to bother rinsing it before filling it again.


"I'm done for the night." Constance said wearily, setting her tray down, "I've got your money, now give me the key to my room." For the last three weeks Constance had been trading work in the bar to have a roof over her head for the rest of the night, at the beginning of her shift Jim demanded she return her key until she had worked off the room’s value for the night. Constance pulled several coins from her pocket, handing them over to the bar keep. He regarded her suspiciously, looking over her hand and shaking his head. "What? Why?" Constance exclaimed irritated, "That’s what I've been paying for the last week!"


"Price has gone up," he said with a laugh, "Ysee how busy we are tonit'?" He wiped his hands on his shirt, plucking the coins from her finger tips, "I could get any of these patrons to rent that room, its valuable space." Constance frowned, the rest of her money was planned for food, and she was trying to save up money for passage. "I'll tell you what," he grinned as he fed off of her disappointment, "You can work until business dies down, and I'll call us squares for tonight, or you can cough up some more coin." He pocketed the coins from her already, procuring a key from his pocket this time. "What'll it be?"


Constance turned her head, surveying the crowd, a mix of common folk, privateers, and even some military men, laughing and screaming over themselves, the night was dark outside and she was already so tired, anymore energy on her feet for that day and she would be lucky to wake up the next morning. She tapped her hand on her side, she needed to keep her money if she was ever going to get out of here and find her father. "Fine, I'll work," Jim clapped his hands together; "But-" Constance started and held her hand out, "I want the key now, just to make sure you don't sell it off this evening."


There was silence between the two as Jim weighed out the options, but he yielded without much fuss, placing the key in her hand. "That's a good choice hon; now get back out there please."


Constance frowned, pocketed the key and picked up the tray, heading back out amongst the patrons. When Jim wasn't looking she quickly slipped into the side door and headed up the stairs towards the rooms, half considering a small nap. She reached the second floor and found her room, the small box with a bed and the few belongings she had left to her name. Quickly she looked her things over; the paranoia was ever present that she was going to lose things, there was nothing of much value, a book that had belonged to her father, a couple letters written in her mother and fathers hand; the small correspondences shared as he had sent money to care for them, and a small ring that had been the promise ring her mother wore for years. She tried it on, a sad smile on her face before she dropped it into her pocket; she had a bad feeling for this evening and feared leaving things apart from her unless she had too. She returned the book and papers to the box, sliding it under the bed for safe keeping. Her best choice was to get back downstairs, sooner than later.


Constance massaged her temples, finally pulling the dark curls back and tying them up on her head. She was tired, she was sad, and she still had yet to grieve her mother's death properly. If she could stop moving for more than a couple minutes she would adjust, but she was caught in the constant cycle of working and trying to catch up on her sleep. It was never enough. She finished the piece of bread left on her table from her earlier meal, granting the resolves to head back to the bar and deal with patrons. She sat down on the edge of the bed, entertaining the idea of locking herself in the room and just resting, but in God's way of telling her to do what her word had said, there was a slamming on the wall accompanied by the moans of a woman; courtesy of some of the taverns more questionable services. It was amazing Constance managed to get any sleep at all.


She forced herself to her feet and exited the room, locking the door behind her and heading back into the busy chaos. She grabbed a tray full of empty mugs as shouting broke out on the other side of the room, men swearing, and their voices roaring over the rest of the noise. She ignored it carrying empty glasses back to the bar; her green eyes on the ground as she slipped between tables, this work was maddening and she was not going to be able to do it any longer. This was not the life that she had been planning to live. Her plan brought comfort too mind, once she had enough money she would get passage on a ship and track her father down to the location of his last letter, hopefully he would be willing to see her. Without her mother Constance was lost; she was merely trying to make the best choices that she could.


She filled her tray, passing back out into the crowds, exchanging coins for drinks; her best smile on as she tried her luck for spare coins. She passed one of the other working girls, the same pretty girl with her shirt hem so low even Constance was distracted, she turned away just in time as a drunken patron turned into her, she stepped sideways to avoid a crash, missing her footing and causing the last drink on her tray to slide off crashing into the closest table full of patrons. "Sorry, sorry!" Constance apologized, eyes locking with Jim at the bar; she would have to pay for that. She pulled a rag from her side and began tidying up the mess, "Sorry," she said again.

 

[SilentMadness]

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"Scar." Captain Brayden addressed his trusted man, the bosun, whose nickname was obviously born from the various scars that adorned his otherwise handsome and fierce looking face. Captain Brayden, or as everyone knew him, "The Banished" was the infamous and fierce pirate captain who sailed the Grim Omen, a ship as renowned as the hellish hound of a captain that sailed it and led its crew. A man with as many faces as stories that were told about him. Bold, fierce, some may have said absolutely mad. But yet unnervingly calm and composed, well-spoken as a most educated man but also able to instill fear only by the tone he spoke in.


"Yes, Captain?" Scar responded with a question, gazing with his hazelnut eyes to the only man to whom he was loyal unto death. Scar had been sailing under the command of this man for as long as he could remember, and never has he ever had a single shiver of mistrust creep up his spine. He knew that whatever would happen, the captain would come out glorious, and so, he kept his head high and followed his orders, keeping them at heart. "I want you to keep an eye on our men tonight. We've barely anchored in this port, and we don't want to pull too much attention upon us. They will be drinking, perhaps for the whole rest of the night, so by all means, keep them under control. If one disobeys, don't hesitate to bring him to deck for due punishment."


"Aye, Captain. So I shall." Scar replied shortly, bowing his head before leaving the Captain's cabin. The crew, or part of it, as there was a good few of them who chose to either drink on board, sleep, or were punished with mopping the deck, was already in the tavern, having a good time with tankards full of ale. As soon as his clean, polished boots, were on the deck, Scar took a deep breath in the night's air and swiftly enough made his way to the tavern, which wasn't so far away from the docks. As soon as he even remotely approached the wooden door of the tavern, he could easily recognize voices of men from his, or rather, his captain's crew, yelling out and some bursting out singing songs that they would when they were merry.


Opening the door without much thinking, Scar simply made his way inside, still throwing a careful glance or two at the other patrons after having spotted the two full tables of his crew. He didn't need to go sit with them, it wasn't much in his behavior to get drunk along with them, but he quickly found a good, lonely table from which he could watch over them, even if some of them were already raising their pints to him and inviting him to join them.


Scar was, despite him being a pirate, a quite simple man. Yes, in all honesty, when he needed be, he could be as cruel and sadistic as possible, but otherwise, it was the Captain who hauled the men around the most. He chose this life because he enjoyed freedom, even though some would have argued that working under a multiple-personality psychopat such as Captain Brayden was in no way freedom. But he knew it was, because, out of all the people on board of the Grim Omen, he was the one of the few who had almost the same privileges as the Captain. He had under full watch the crew, even though, in moments such as this, he kind of wished he didn't. He'd much rather have been in his cabin, doing other things that he liked.


But it was his duty after all, and so, he had to fulfill it. However, he felt slightly thirsty, and so, he rose his gaze to search for someone, anyone, who might be available to serve him. And that was the moment when he noticed Constance losing her balance and practically spilling the drink on the table of, surprise, his men. Silence fell over the table for a moment, and Scar's attention was now fully perked to the scenery, before one of them, Wayland "The Frenzied" suddenly stood up. He was way more intoxicated than the rest, and everybody knew that when he was in that state, he tended to become aggressive to the point of extreme. "Ye' just spilt me drink, ye' filthy harlot!" He practically yelled at her, causing everyone's attention to shift to the spot and Scar to jump from his own spot as he realized that one of his men was close to going crazy.


Before the pirate could deliver the slap for which he drunkenly rose his hand, however, another hand intervened, blocking access to Constance's face and pushing Wayland's hand away before an authority filled voice ordered. "Wayland! That... is enough. Get back to the deck, you miserable dog, or I'll drag you there myself." Wayland grumbled drunkenly something under his breath, not having the courage to speak out loud since he knew that Scar could sometimes be as cruel as the Captain. The drunken pirate then began on his way out of the tavern, stumbling and mumbling things for himself. Scar watched him with squinted eyes, before turning his attention to Constance who was struggling to clean the table. "I apologize for my man's behavior. He will get the punishment for it, be assured of that."

 

[Janice]

For as long as Constance could remember her mother had been a hard worker, often working late into the night by candlelight to keep them as far away from any lifestyles remotely close to where she found herself now. Her mother had worked as a seamstress and would bring Constance along on jobs when she was younger; she used to play with the mayor's children as her mother sewed the clothes and fitted the dresses his wife would wear. Constance's skills were lacking compared to her mother; she could sew things together but nothing like the manner required for fine fitting garments. Her mother had kept them warm and well fed; and if and when her father's letters had came the money had always been put to good use; after she died Constance had used the bit of money she had to rent the room from Jim as she could no longer stay in her mother's home. When the money ran out Jim had proposed the offer of work for room and board; some days she was lucky and made off with money that she could keep; but not always.


Constance held her breath as she attempted to clean; head down on the task at hand, the men surrounding her were still in the moment of silence before the storm. Her attempts to clean were barely noticed, one of the men abruptly stood up and Constance inwardly cringed as she raised her eyes to look at him. "Ye' just spilt me drink, ye' filthy harlot!" She opened her mouth to apologize again but thought better of it, simply willing to stand there and take whatever outrage was moving her way. It cost less that going and listening to Jim do the same thing; and take all of her money when he was done.


She shifted when he raised his hand, and didn't realize that she was holding her breath until she could breathe again after someone had intervened. It was understandable as to why the man would be upset; men usually could be easily angered over a few things; and most of them involved alcohol, cards or money. Instead of thanking the man she quickly returned to cleaning the table, trying to move past the whole mess sooner than later.


"I apologize for my man's behavior. He will get the punishment for it, be assured of that."


Constance's eyes flashed up, quickly looking the man over; in all honesty she was greatful for his itnervention but would have preferred that he not talk to her. Of course, she was overly opinion and so it was a rare occasion where she wouldn't be tempted to participate in a conversation. "He doesn't deserve punishment," she spoke as calmly as she could, though she could still feel her heart pounding in her ears. "The accident was my fault," and she wasn't at all surprised by how it had been responded too. She managed to soak up the majority of the spill, throwing the wet rag onto her tray, gathering the pieces of the broken glass, and a couple other empty ones as well. "I appreciate you stopping him though," she added finally, taking a deep breath as she shouldered the tray. "I'll be back with more drinks in a min' gents," she managed a smile as she spoke to the rest of the main, majority now passive over the forgotten incident.

 

[SilentMadness]

"Cheers, lass!" One of the pirates cheered out, being immediately followed by the merry rest hearing Constance announcing that she'll be back with more drinks. After Constance made her way to the bar, Billy, a bald, eye-patched pirate looked to Scar with a raised eyebrow. "Why you be not joining us, bosun? Tha' night be long and we will celebrate it!"


They were, for now, drowning in gold. Or, well, that's the impression it made after they managed to intercept a transport of valuables and plunder everything they could. They had spent the time to divide the goods, and now they would spend a while making the best out of them to their heart's content. In their case, drinking for a whole night long. However, Scar wasn't in the mood for that, quite the contrary, he now desired silence. But he had to keep these rabid dogs under watch, and that made him flinch. Sometimes, he hated his position. "No. I... have other things better to do, Billy. By all means, drink to your heart's content. But keep yourself low." He spoke in a lower, more threatening tone.


"Direct order from the Captain. Keep yourself low and don't do anything that shouldn't be done amongst landlubbers, or you'll end up taking as many whips as the Captain has scars. Understood?" He asked, his tone grim and serious, to such extent that even the drunken pirates recognized it and could all but utter their vows that they will not get over his word. Scar looked upon the whole table, before nodding. "Good. Behave, and don't you dare touch the lass without her permission, or your hands shall fall off by the sword." He said before prying himself from the table and moving to the previous one he sat at.


In his last warning, he refered directly to the code that the Captain implemented, code that had as one of the main rules: "He who touches a woman without her permission, under any circumstances, shall suffer loss of the limb that had touched her." It was perhaps the most lawful rule the Captain followed and asked of his crew to follow. Nobody knew exactly why he was so much against this act, but all they knew is that not only once have they witnessed men being shortened by one part of their body, be it hands or... other parts, for breaking that one rule. So they were cautious. Some of them went as far as to speculate that the Captain himself had a wife that had been desecrated by scoundrels, and so, he loathed the act. But it was all just speculation and story.


Seating himself back at the table, Scar watched as the people continued on with their merry evening, before deciding that he needed a drink, too. With a hand, he signaled specifically to Constance, as soon as she had her in sight.

 

[Janice]

Once her back was turned the smile faded; perhaps putting on an act for the men wasn't always the best choice, but some days she simply had to fake it. Today was one of those days; she would have been better off ahead to have taken Jim's silly arrangement and just paid more for her room that night, she needed the sleep, and dealing with the patrons was taking its toll on her. She didn't enjoy conflict, she didn't drink; and she definitely wasn't there to trade herself for coins. Yet Constance was worried, the longer she stayed the more she felt that she would never be able to leave.


She reached the counter and took a deep breath, Jim was chatting with another girl but she could almost feel the eyes burning into the back of her head when she turned around. She threw the pieces of glass into the rubbish, cleaned the cups quickly and traded the dirty rag for a clean(er) one to use, then she filled several drinks. "Hey," Jim's voice snapped her from the back of her mind, "What about the coins?" Constance would have rolled her eyes if she felt that she could spare the energy, she pulled out the ones for the last tray she had brought out, leaving it on the counter. "And your..." He coughed once into his shoulder, half laughing at her, "Accident..? Please." How could someone use the word please and appear to be the opposite of polite? "I think it's in your best interests to pay for the tray you're taken, case you fall again or something," Constance didn't argue, she left the rest of her coins on the counter and kept her lips shut as she picked up the tray and headed back over to the pirates.


Now with a considerably emptier pocket her demeanor was beginning to become affected, she wished she had been able to pick up the allowance her father had sent before he had received news of her mother's passing; but the correspondent refused to give her any of his letters without a password; and Constance didn't know what it was. Perhaps it would have made things easier now, or at least given her a chance to find out where she was going. She couldn't think about it now. She reached the aforementioned table, bright smile back on her face, "Here we are boys," she laughed, it was infectious, one of the men even cheered as she lowered several drinks onto the table in exchange for coins, this time without problem. Her eyes scanned their group for the man who had intervened; he wasn't sitting with them. Curious. She glanced around at the neighboring tables, spotting him as he signaled her. She grabbed the rest of the coins, carrying the tray with a remaining drink on it over to Scar.


"Guessing this ones for you," her smile softer but more genuine this time as she set it down on the table in front of him. "Thanks again, for what you did there." She shifted the tray, holding it on her side, "Don't worry about this one, it's on the house," she added lightly. She could afford one drink in appreciation of the wrath she had been lucky enough to avoid. Besides, most of the men were better at tipping after they had a drink already.

 

[SilentMadness]

He sat back as she approached the table, and even smiled ever so slightly as she set the drink down and told him it's on the house. But if there was one thing Scar was great at, it was reading people only by their faces and voices. And boy, he couldn't not notice how tired she was. Exhausted, even. Exhausted and worried, as he could also understand, for there was something very heavy in her gaze, something that was going back into her soul.


"You don't need to indulge me, lass. You deserve your money for the work." He said as he searched his coin pouch and picked up two gold coins. One for the drink and one simply because he felt generous. He placed the coins on the table for her to have. "Here you go. Gonna be a long night what with all my sea dogs celebrating, so you're going to fetch a lot of drinks. If you wanna sit down later on, feel free to join me." He said with a nod, picking up his drink and lifting it to Constance. "To you." He took a gulp of the ale. However, a particular pair of eyes watched from behind Constance, from the bar, and clearly didn't enjoy the sight of her wasting her time with small chit-chatter.


"Hey, move it already, you're not gonna earn your money by sitting around and talking to the patrons." Jim almost shouted, causing Scar to take a good glance at him with a raised eyebrow. He knew this type of boss. And could easily notice the fact that, when his voice was heard, Constance instantly felt uneasy. It was readable in her demeanor. His curiosity got the best out of him, and before Constance could leave, he looked up at her once more, nodding as to ensure her of what he had said earlier, that she had where to sit if she wished to later on.


After that, the hours began passing, Scar only drinking a mug, after a mug, after another mug and watching over the crew. He witnessed patrons leaving after having had one too many drinks, other patrons taking their place, some of his men also drunkenly stumble their ways out or asking for other services than drinking. It was all a recurring scenery that happened everytime after a successful plundering. He could also guess that some crewmates were already empty-pocketed after such a night, even though it was officially just the middle of it. Despite having had so many drinks thus far, Scar held himself together well, due to having resilience to it after so many heavy drinking nights spent with the Captain.


For some reason, however, he wished that Constance would actually return to sit down with him. He was getting more and more curious by just why the hell was her superior hauling her around for, but he could guess she wouldn't impart such knowledge upon him, or would she? He had to find out, and so, the next moment when he saw her, he signaled for her again, finishing yet another tankard of ale to make a reason for her to head his way.

 

[Janice]

Constance was at the point in being tired where it was all simply beginning to muddle together; all coming in too just one big tired mess. Yes, she got to sleep, but her days were busy and the nights were young, and even the rests at night seemed to be filled with interuptions. She'd give anything to be able to sit down and have her feet up; sit with her mom maybe, get her to brush her hair and hum songs while she twisted them into a braid; but those days were long gone and it was no longer worth dreaming about them. The simply life she had taken for granted was gone before she could truly take the time to appreciate it.


"Th-thank you..." She said almost hesitantly, the caution almost over running her voice. She had had many a negative experience with the men in the tavern, offering tips while trying to sneak a kiss, or accompanied by an iron grip that refused to let go. The other girls were helpful when it suited them, willing to indulge the men in different levels of companionship; but her gut instinct was on fire tonight; Jim was in a bad mood, and the vulnerability she felt was almost maddening. She pocketed the two coins, managing to keep the smile on her face although disguising her misery was becoming harde and harder. Most didn't notice, the drink clouded their minds and they saw what they wanted to see; they expected she was happy but they never looked further to see any different.


"To me," she repeated quietly, a small laugh tracing the saddness of her voice. "I- I don't think I'll be able to tonight," she said looking down at the tray in her hands, it was insanely busy tonight and with Jim on a warpath it was best to stay out of sight, out of mind, and to keep the patrons tankards full. She cringed at the yelling, taking a deep breath to try and remain calm in appearance; inside she felt like screaming. She looked up, meeting Scar's gaze and managed to return his smile. "Thanks again," she added quietly before turning away and making her way back to the bar.


Jim's mood was terrible when she reached it, he slammed another full set of tankards onto her tray, "'eep working!" He shouted through gritted teeth, "Yer spending too much time talking; quit your flirtin' unless yer planning to make better use of that room of yers!" Constance's face flashed pink over her olive skin, mixing with a miserable frown. She just shook her head, for now ignoring his comment as she headed back into the crowd.


The hours passed, a complete blur, Jim continued to make comments extracting extra coinage whenever he could, Constance lacked the energy to fight or talk back. She ran drinks to tables, cleaned up messes, matched the shouting when it got too much, and was beginning to feel very weary and overwhelmed. Everytime someone would leave their place would be filled by someone else, and the girls were beginning to leave upstairs leaving more people for Constance too attend too on her own. Suddenly there was a calm in the storm of drinks and screaming, a couple tables left reducing the noise considerably; and there was a comforting weight of coin in her pocket giving her some slip hope for the evening. She dare not count her money down there; fearing Jim would give her a terrible excuse of why she owed it to him. She went to the bar dropping off more glasses, watching as Jim went in too the back to get more ale.


This time when she turned to look over the room seeing where she could be of use she spotted Scar, motioning for her again, she filled another drink, slipping it on to the tray and making her way over. "We meet again," she managed with a small laugh, her mood was tired but at least slightly more improved from the tips of the evening. She glanced over her shoulder before putting the drink down, for a minute she seemed to be free of Jim's wrath, but probably not for long.

 

[SilentMadness]

"So it would seem." Scar replied with something that came out very rarely from him, a small, but genuine smile. He was the Captain's favorite not only for doing his job well, but also, for being able to behave like a true man in the world. He wasn't a drunkard, although he was his favorite drinking partner. He knew when to be polite and when to draw the sword or unsheathe his pistol. He knew when to fight, and when to avoid fighting and last but not least, he knew how to behave around women. A trait rarely found in the dime-a-dozen pirates. The Captain was being very specific about that one rule. And Scar respected it by heart.


"It seems to me that your boss is hounding you quite a lot." Scar said with a neutral tone. He could only tell by the exhaustion in her voice and gestures. She looked sad, worried, angry, anxious, worn off... in fact, he actually felt quite some pity for her. It reminded him that he, too, worked under a person just like her boss. Well, he had a few privileges, of course, but he had to pull through hell and razors to earn them. Only so now he would become a man almost like his Captain. He couldn't complain, however, and it all only made him think of whatever would have happened should he not have chosen the pirate life. Boring, everything would've been just boring and awful.


The few patrons that were left in the bar were beginning to leave, tired and drunk, and amongst them, were also the members of his crew, or the few that were still there. He could count them on a single hand's fingers: Patch, a bald, eyepatched bastard with rotten teeth and the stench of a dead whale, Buckster, a tall, lanky and quite young pirate with at least four earrings and other metallic decorations piercing his body, Lucky Joe, the seemingly never dying crazy bastard who managed to get out of a shark's teeth, got a shot almost through the heart and survived countless other possible deaths and Rat, a filthy, stinking, rotten piece of trash with two overly grown front teeth poking from under his upper lip.


However, as at a call, Jim suddenly popped up at the bar, and his eyes immediately took notice of Constance who seemed to be again chattering with one of the patrons, soon, to-be the only patron. This, seemed to have infuriated him beyond measure, his face turning red in an instant as he all but marched towards the table where Scar was at, his steps hitting heavily against the wooden floor. Scar had noticed this and was quick to stand, only to behold Jim's wrath. "I thought I told ye to stop chattering with th' patrons unless ye wanna bed them, ye stinkin' wench!" He said, before delivering a heavy slap to Constance. By this point, Scar has had enough, and with a familiar sound, his long, curved cutlass was drawn, much to the surprise of the three or four patrons left in the bar.


"Enough of this... " He muttered in a threatening tone as he pointed his blade at Jim and placed it under his chin. "The girl is no longer under your command. She will be leaving with me, and you'll have nothing against it, or your head is going to be placed where your feet are now. Understood?" He asked, squinting as he only slightly moved his blade under Jim's chin, making a small cut that caused him to inhale with slight pain. Why he was doing that? He had no idea, nor did he care to think about it. Yes, there were witnesses and yes, there might be backlashes, but he didn't seem to care about that either. He just felt he needed to take Constance out of there.


Under the threat, Jim's rage seemed to have dissapeared completely and now all he could do was display a fakely apologetic smile, all while Scar only gave Constance a gaze. "Go grab your things if you have any, lass, ye're leaving this dunghole with me."

 

[Janice]

Constance managed too return the smile; although still too nervous too properly join him at his table, she rested her tray on the table top, hips leaning slightly on the edge of the table. She appreciated his interest in talking to her; but in truth she questioned his motives. Her life in the tavern was simply making it through one day and too the next; and she wasn't about to flirt and grovel to take the change of a man who'd been drinking all night. That wasn't something that she wanted to participate in. So why did he want to talk to her?


"It's more of well," she paused trying to find the right word, boss didn't sound accurate, "More of an arrangement I guess," she mused quietly with a shake of her head. Her thoughts pleasantly shifted to the notion that she would be able to go to bed soon, and if even for a few hours she would be able to get some sleep. Lost in her thoughts and with her guard temporarily down she didn't hear Jim's footsteps or notice that something was wrong until Scar rose to his feet, she turned to look as Jim started shouting only to be slapped across her face.


She gasped sharply, the red mark quick too appear on her skin even against the darkening complexion, Constance forced herself to take a deep breath, taking a step back as Scar drew his weapon and moved towards Jim. Even against the shock of pain on her face it was enough to worry Constance, Jim was a vile gutter rat, but this was the only option and shelter that she had, and Scar was quickly seeing to the end of that. She frowned, opened her mouth to apologize or stop things but found no words that she could use. Jim was bleeding, there was no going back now, so Constance just stood there slightly in shock.


Her attention snapped back to Scar as he addressed her; grab her things, it wasn't a question, and the last thing Constance thought she could do was argue. She slipped past the men and rushed up the stairs, unlocking the door to her room and gathering her few belongings on the bed. She pulled off the apron, full of coins, rolled it into a ball and threw it into the bottom of the small bag she had. The book and letters joined it, and Constance managed to fit in one of the other dresses that she had. She undid the one she was wearing, stripping down to her under garments, it smelled of sweat and ale, and Constance was quick to leave it on the bed for someone else to find. She quickly slipped into the only other clothes that she had; a dark green dress that at least seemed to be clean.


There was a sense of panic too her movements as she gathered up her bag, heading down the stairs, she was trying to appear calm, she was worried that she was failing at it though. She left the key at the bar and then rushed outside too meet Scar, her hand resting on her face for a moment that was stinging rather badly before she found him. "Why did you do that?" she asked him, her voice panicking slightly, "Where am I supposed to go now?" she questioned him as it began to dawn on her that she was out of a job and a living arrangement. She clutched her bag to her chest trying to force herself to breath, she was being rude, and she knew it. "I'm sorry," she paused, head down, "I should thank you, for trying to help. I just..." her voice drifted off and all she could do was just shake her head instead, what was she going to do now?

 

[SilentMadness]

In the time that Constance had gathered her things, Scar released Jim from under the blade, sheathing it back at his waist, all while he received gazes sparking with hatred and despise. "I will have your neck in a noose for this, you sea swine." Jim threatened, but to Scar it sounded hollow. Just words in the wind. Scar knew this, and didn't care much for the threat. He simply let his steps take him outside, in the cold, almost morning air. Just now it was dawning upon him that he will have to account for a woman being brought on-board. They were to set sail in two days, so until then, he'd have to work on convincing the Captain to let Constance go with them.


Why was he doing all of this? He still didn't know. Perhaps out of sympathy. Maybe he was just being too soft. Again, he was the one who watched as men were being whipped until the flesh on their back was peeling. But he did this? He was taken slightly by surprise by Constance who appeared from somewhere behind him, firstly almost berating him for his gesture before thanking him. He completely understood her reaction, and if there was an answer that he didn't have, it was the right one for her last question.


"I... apologize." He said as he began walking, motioning for her to follow. "I just couldn't watch that man treat you in such a manner. Oh, by the by, I don't believe we've had the time for proper introductions. My name is Scar. I am the bosun of the Grim Omen, the ship sailed by none other but Captain Braiden 'The Banished'. " He said with readable pride in his voice, as he continued walking. "I shall, assuredly, arrange for a place for you on the ship. I feel it's my duty since I have dragged you into this. What you need now is to rest."


The rest of the walk to the docks was quite silent. As they reached the pier, Scar's boots made quite loud sounds as they hit the wood, all while he led Constance up the ramp that was lowered from the deck. The Grim Omen bore a name quite contrarious to its appearance. The ship itself was absolutely gorgeous, and it showcased quite easily the Captain's love for finesse and luxury. A ship like no other, as many who have seen it described it.


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A gentleman, as he was, Scar led the woman on the main deck, making sure she wouldn't stumble into the drunk pirates who didn't make it to their cabins and simply fell asleep on the spot. He knew, as any pirate worth his salts, that women on board were mostly considered to be bad luck, however, he was decided to go and talk to the Captain. He knew that, by this hour, he'd find the man in his cabin. "Come inside, I'll go have a word with the Captain." He told Constance as he opened the door that led to the first set of stairs which took to the first level below the deck.

 

[Janice]

Constance was beginning to panic, although she was doing her best too remain calm she was simply too tired to keep her mind from running a million miles a minute. Her plan, as full of holes as it had been, did not involve leaving the tavern in the middle of the night with someone she didn't know. Not that she had had a proper plan; she had no idea where she was going, or how she was getting there, but the man in front of her clearly screamed pirate, and only now was Constance's instincts attempting to warn her that she may not have been making the smartest of choices right now.


All the same, she followed him as he began walking away from her. Best to stay with the man who seemed to have a mild interest in protecting her, then be left to walk the streets on her own. "I just wasn't expecting a rescue," she managed with a laugh after he apologized and touched on how she had been treated. Jim was terrible, yes; but Constance had known what she was getting in too when it started. Yet her face still stung, and the more she reflected on it, that was not something that she had expected to have happened to her, maybe from a disgruntled client (her observations unfortunately said to expect everything) but not from the bar keep when she was trying to help.


Either way, that was all behind her. "I'm Constance," she managed with a small nod, Scar didn't sound like a given name; but she wasn't about to ask where he had gotten the name from. "On the ship?" She questioned as she kept up; still falling into pace a step behind him. Rest sounded like a splendid idea; but Constance was unsure that she would even be able to fall asleep at this rate; he was leading her to his ship and Constance didn't feel like she could believe him; someone was bound to disagree with her being there. And she was unsure of what was going to be expected of her in return.


She followed him in silence; the quiet walk reminding her that she was indeed tired, she covered a yawn with the back of her hand as they finally arrived at the docks. Constance was rather surprised as he led her to the beautiful boat, "This boat?" She asked, her voice low and filled with surprise; maybe she could stay for a bit and attempt to form a new plan? It couldn't hurt to see what was going to happen.


Constance could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves; although she had lived in the port town for most of her life she couldn't remember the last time she had been on a boat. Her mother had never been big on the water; Constance couldn't even swim. But the boat was nice, and the water was beautiful and calm that night. "Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" Constance asked finally, worry beginning to get the best of her, she didn't want to think about having to go back to town and figuring out a different option; she just wanted to sleep and read her letters. "Do I have to talk to him...?" She asked cautiously, she didn't think that was something she was going to be very good at.

 

[SilentMadness]

"Oh, no, don't worry." He assured her as he led her below deck. "I will speak with the Captain personally. You need not worry. I'll arrange for everything." He gave a brief nod before moving away and heading to the captain's cabin. He knew he'd find him there. The Captain was one amazing individual in the sense that he seemingly never slept, yet never seemed to be tired. How he managed to pull off this impressive feature, nobody knew, and most circulated a legend about how he was most surely not even human but another sort of creature. As he reached the door to the cabin, Scar let his hand deliver a slight knock to the wooden structure, which was answered to by a grave voice. "Yes?"


It was the signal for him to enter. As he opened the door and snuck inside the cabin, he found the Captain at his desk. A pipe was clamped between his lips as he puffed it, gazing contemplative through one of the only windows on the ship at the darkened horizon. Scar put his gloved hands behind his back and took an upright posture before his superior, beginning with a formal tone. "All men are on board, Captain. There is only one who was about to cause trouble. I will see to his fit punishment on the morrow." He reported, receiving a gaze of the Captain's grey eyes and a nod. "Excellent, Scar. Anything else you would like to add?" The Captain asked with slight curiosity and insinuating.


"Aye. There is someone I have brought along. A woman." Scar spoke, receiving a raised eyebrow from the Captain who listened with mild curiosity. "Her name is Constance, and she came along by her own, free will. I... took her away from an abusive man whom she worked for. " He admitted, with slight emotions regarding the repercussions. The Captain gazed upon him for a few seconds that dragged on like years, before finally nodding. "Fine. She may stay. I faith that you will account for her. She will be your responsibility solely. I will very much like to meet her, but that, on the morrow." The Captain continued, making Scar sigh in relief. It seemed he was in a good mood.


"I do also faith that she can do something to earn her place amongst us. But... that I will discuss with her personally. Lead her to one of the spare cabins and we will see what happens next. Dismissed." The Captain said, simply, before waving Scar away. The bosun bowed his head respectfully before leaving the cabin and returning to Constance. "Come on. I'll show you to your cabin. The Captain approved your stay." He said, trying to mask the relief that this brought him and the slight excitement. With her at his side, Scar moved, leading her down another level below deck, a level which consisted of a rather narrow corridor with wooden doors on both sides. The Grim Omen was, initially, a luxury cruise ship, on which only the richest people had the privilege to step. And now, it served as perhaps the most luxurious pirate ship to ever exist.


Scar led Constance on the corridor, and stopped before the fourth door on the right, and placed his hand on its knob, which was made out of massive gold. Opening the door for Constance, he revealed a chamber, in truth, big enough considering they were on a ship. The chamber bore a slight smell of static air, but nothing too hard to eliminate. The bed was on the very end of the room, and it was big enough to shelter two persons. By the bed was a small bedside locker made out of wood with stylish carvings upon it. There was a decent vanity table as well in the room, complete with a slightly dusty mirror. In fact, dust was settled upon almost anything, proof that the room hasn't been touched in a long time.


"Well, here it is. Most of these rooms stay unused, as the crew either sleeps on the deck or at the very lowest level below it. You can't take stray dogs and turn them into luxury ones." He made the remark with a grin.

 

[Janice]

Constance followed him below deck and clutched her bag tightly in her hand as he gave her a nod and walked off; unsure of what to do she stood there for a moment before finally contenting herself with just taking in the boat that she was on. It was a beautiful ship; at least as far as what she knew about ships and she was a bit surprised to see it in a pirate’s hands (how could they not be pirates? She had seen the men that Scar was in the tavern with; besides what kind of a name was Scar?) but it seemed to be in good enough condition. She wondered who it had originally been acquired from; surely they had not built it or bought it, it was a story she was likely never to hear, and that was probably the best choice for her.


The motion of the ocean underfoot was relaxing; although hard to get used too at first; as much as she loved to look at the ocean her water experiences had been minimal at best. Her mother falling in love with a man at sea; and then refusing to go near it, what were the odds of that? Constance sighed at the thought, this was a fool’s journey, she was not going to find her father when she didn’t even know where to look, and she couldn’t exactly ask Scar or his Captain to simply take her to where the letters had been coming from. What was she doing on this ship? One step closer, maybe, but perhaps she was just that much further away now. Was it a wise choice simply following the man around because he was telling her too? Yes, he had seemed concerned about her treatment under Jim’s hand, but she had no guarantee that she was actually in a better place. All the same, maybe she just needed the chance to be somewhere different, away from where she had lost her mother.


Sooner than anything Scar was back, Constance was a little conflicted with her emotions, but she supposed that she should be happy and grateful that the captain was allowing her to stay; since he really had no reason too. She was quiet as she followed behind him, down to the next deck. It was impressive how beautiful the ship really was the more she got the chance to look at it, “Have you always been on this ship?” She finally asked out of curiosity. She stopped when he stopped at the door to one of the rooms, visibly surprised when he opened the door, it was magnificent compared to the room that she had been living in at the tavern. It was evident that no one had been in it for awhile though. “You mean I get to stay in here?” She asked in disbelief; she laughed softly at his joke as she stepped further into the room, she wasn’t even sure if she could sleep right now, there were simply too many things to think about. “Whereabouts do you stay?” She asked finally.


(Short, ew.)

 

[SilentMadness]

"Yes, you will stay here." Scar replied simply, nodding his head. "It's quite... dusty, but it hasn't been used in a decade. We have one or two mates clean it up as punishment from time to time, but last time it has been visited before you was long enough ago." He shrugged, gazing the woman once more and motioning with his head at her question. "The officer cabins are on the first level below deck, so there's where ye'll find me, if you need. Make sure you lock the door and also, be ready, for tomorrow, the Captain will want to see you. Don't worry. It's nothing of a grave importance. He just likes to know the people he has on board."


With a polite bow of his head, Scar stepped out of the room and closed the door. He was, in all honesty, a tad bit, perhaps more than he would like to admit, tired. There was a slight sensation of gloom lingering in his mind, something that gripped at his heart and squeezed mercilessly, but that was, most surely, due to the tired state he found himself in. Turning on his heels, he made his way back to the stairs that led to the superior deck. Once there, he took the way towards the Captain's cabin, then immediately on a small corridor to its right, at the end of which was his own cabin. But why didn't he feel like sleeping in a bed?


With a sleepy sigh, Scar finally decided to trade the comforts of the bed for the deck. Speak of a stray dog, he bitterly remarked as he walked up the stairs and ended up in the chilly breeze of the night air. It was close to the dawn by now. Finding himself a spot on the deck wasn't hard, quite the contrary, even with all the drunken mates who slept around undisturbed. He eventually decided to lie down near a mast, and for a moment, he fixed his eyes on the sky adorned by stars. What a beautiful sight to see. But was it worth trading all in exchange for it? The thought lulled him to sleep, cradled by the gentle movement of the waves, in song of slight creaking of the wooden structure.


The next morning was as relaxed as it could be. The Captain had sent for a few men to acquire different items from around the town and provisions, and he had also established the next course for the day that will follow, when they will set sail. "Scar, come with me for a bit." The Captain asked his bosun before dissapearing below the deck, his subordinate following soon after. He was, in fact, quite too curious about what concerned the Captain so much. Upon the entrance in his office, he immediately noticed a rather luxurious black gown resting neatly folded on a small table. "Take that to our guest, if you may. It's my official invitation for her to join me for dinner tonight. I have matters to discuss with her."


And so, Scar found himself now, ten minutes after the meeting with the Captain, before the door to Constance's cabin, giving it a light knock with his left hand's knuckles, all while he held the neatly packed gown in his other hand. He only hoped that she was awake already.

 

[Janice]

Constance breathed a sigh of relief as she looked at the room, it was definitely more than she had been expecting and it was a lot more than she was used to living in the run down tavern. Nervously, she dropped her bag onto the floor as she stepped in the room, turning her head to look back at Scar, "Alright, thank you then." Her words were calm as she fought against the feeling of being overwhelmed, ignoring thoughts of locking doors and simply trying too appreciate where she was; somewhere that she had never been before. "Looking forward to it," she added politely, the thoughts of meeting the captain brought a worrisome feeling to her gut but she didn't give in too it, there was no use worrying about things that hadn't happened yet, this was a new situation for her and she would simply need to figure it out as she went along.


The door shut behind Scar as he left, Constance stared at it for several moments before finally stepping forward and shutting the lock, it sounded heavy and loud. She took a deep breath as she looked around the room, she couldn't make sense of what she was feeling yet at the core of it she knew that the best thing she could do was try and get some rest. Sooner or later she would have to get up, and sleeping while she had the chance was the best choice she had right now. She picked up her bag from the floor, sitting down on the bed and slowly looking through her things, she missed her mother but it was reassuring that her life seemed to be moving in the direction she wanted. Constance didn't know what she would do once she found him; but for now she hoped that healing the missing piece of her life would be enough. She ran her fingers over the cursive writing of their letters, and fell asleep to the comfort of her mothers hand writing.


Although she slept, it would be accurate to say that she had slept well, the motions of the ocean underneath her were new to her, and Constance had trouble staying asleep. She spent a good portion of the night tossing and turning, and sooner then later the sun was up as well to wake her from her slumber. She was grateful though, with no requirements of herself she was at least able to just lie on the bed and do her best to relax, absorbed in her own chaos of thoughts.


A knock at the door was enough to remind Constance of her circumstances though, she rolled out of the bed and crossed the room. Nervous to open it at first, before she finally unlocked it and opened the door a crack. Seeing Scar she managed a small smile and opened the door the rest of the way, "Morning, did you sleep well?" she offered pleasantly, eyes flickering down to the package in his hand, "What's that?" She asked him curiously.

 

[SilentMadness]

"Good morning." Scar replied somewhat curteously, nodding his head. He held the folded gown and stood there, not taking even a step further. That showed enough about the respectful manner in which he has been taught to treat guests. "I had worse nights." He replied to her question with a jesting tone, shrugging. "I faith you had a better sleep? The creaking might turn landlubbers insane, they say. But I see that you are still in your minds, if my eyes don't deceive." He continued, although inside himself, he wondered, how come he was being so talkative this particular morning? He usually resorted to short, to-the-point replies. He didn't pay any attention to it, however.


"Oh, this. Consider it a... welcome gift from the Captain, a sign of good faith and also a personal invitation to dinner with him by tonight. A fine man, he is, so you can leave your worries behind." Scar smiled. "And I do hope to see you on deck today. Take your time. If you need anything, I'll be around." He said before handing Constance the folded gown and taking a step back. "I'll be going."


And with that, Scar made his way away, going up the stairs and on the deck. This woman... this woman reminded him, somewhat, of someone from a distant past. It wasn't her, obviously, but he could put his finger now on the reason for which he was being so warm and curteous. She hit home with him, somewhat. Something that hadn't happened to him in years. She reminded him of someone from his past before his life as a pirate. So many years gone by.


"Phillip Davenport, is it?" The man in the trench asked him. He woke that morning to the sound of knocks on the door to his house. This brought a lot of emotion to him, because he awaited something. A sign. Or a person. "Yes. Have you found something about her?" He replied, the emotion and fear easily readable in his voice. "Yes. But I'm afraid it's not good news. We found her body by the river just an hour earlier. It would seem someone... well... humiliated her. I am sorry." The man replied gravely, and in that moment, he felt how his knees just turned to nothing. He felt weak, desperate... it was as if he was still living through his nightmare, and he hasn't woken up.


"Scar..."


"Scar..."


"Scar!" A voice nearly shouted at him, causing him to snap out of it. He had already reached the deck, and Captain was right there, trying to get in touch with him. "Have you delivered the gown?" The Captain asked, slightly irritated by his subordinate's odd behavior. "Aye, Captain. I have. She was deeply grateful."

 

[Janice]

"Yes, I'm quite alright," she said with a laugh in reference to losing her mind, "I've had worse nights too," she added, her demeanor was cheerful for the moment the majority of her nervousness was gone. She took the dress, her eyes wide as she held it in her hands, the fabric was soft and the work was intricate; like something her mother would have made, "I'll be sure to thank him at dinner," she said with a bright smile. "Thank you again," she added as he stepped away. Constance watched him leave before shutting the door again and throwing the lock shut. She crossed the room to the bed, slowly unfolding the fabric and laying it across.


The dress was beautiful, and Constance was easily engrossed by the structure and beauty of the design. She sat down on the side of the bed next to it; examining the work and running her fingertips along the fabric. Black was the hardest color to work with; nearly impossible to see especially if working through the night; there were many memories Constance had of her mother working by candlelight; with the skills and stubbornness required to complete the task. Constance's mother had created many masterpiece's with her daughter watching; it had been a shame that Constance's skill could not be cultivated in the same manner.


Thinking of her mother was hard, and Constance knew that if she didn't find something else to distract herself with soon she was going to slip into a coma of misery, lost in dreams and memories of things that she could no longer have. Her mother had been her best friend; and watching her slip away had been the hardest thing she ever had to live through. Silently, Constance folded up the fabric of the dress on the bed, leaving it at the head of it, she would save it for dinner. The green dress she was in was still fresh enough, and she would feel terrible if something had happened to it before she could meet the Captain. She put her bag with her coins and items into the drawer on the nightstand, momentarily worrying about its safekeeping before trying to remind herself that she would be gone long, there were only so many places to look on a ship. She decided she would go and find Scar if she could first; at least to keep herself busy. She wasn't sure what else the day would have in store yet.


She left the room, shutting the door behind her and trying to recall the instructions he had given her. She would look around below deck before venturing upstairs. She stifled a yawn, brushing her finger tips through her hair as she walked, she was tired and didn't want to deal with a full ship of pirates just yet.

 

[SilentMadness]

The Captain, content with the response, simply turned around and walked away, being the kind of man who spent nearly his entire time within the solitary confines of his cabin. It was well known, especially by his second in command and the rest of his officers, that he was a man with a deep love for the fine arts, such as poetry, and even painting. It was odd as odd could be, as if the Captain who was on the deck and the one below it were two different personas. Scar nodded to himself, managing to finally snap himself completely out of his thoughts. He began his daily routine of inspecting the ship's sails and the progress with the minor repair works that the carpenter was tasked with.


"Have you finished the repairs on the main mast, Sawtooth?" He asked the carpenter, a fairly old man with a thick, unkempt beard and a black bandana tied on his head. "Aye aye, bos'n, the mast be as good as new! I also found one problem with the cleat. Took good care of it, aye. Tell me, 'ave me old weary eyes deceived me, or ya brought a fine lady las' nigh' with ye'?" He asked with the purest curiosity. Scar knew him. The old man wasn't really a bad person, and he knew he wouldn't have done anything. However, he just shrugged. "Aye, I have. But you know how the rule goes out here, if you wanna keep your hands and your... other parts together, don't dare to touch her."


"Aye aye, no need to be worryin'. Ol' Sawtooth ain' gon' do noth' to the lass. I was just curious." The carpenter replied with a chuckle, revealing his rotten, uncared for teeth that were dropping away, one by one. "Good. Then get back to work. We need the ship fully fixed until the morrow's morning." Scar replied before wandering away, continuing his walk on the ship. But as he headed towards the door that led to the first level below decks, he heard a familiar voice barking. James, the Quartermaster, seemed to be distributing the food. Or at least, ordering everyone to come get theirs. "Come get yer' fish stew, bloody dogs!" He shouted, leaving the deck immediately after, all while the one who was assigned as cook was standing ready to serve the crew. The rule was simple. Get in line, grab a wooden bowl and wait your turn.


The moment was in exact sync with Constance showing up on the deck. Scar eyed her right away, and so did pretty much the rest of the crew as they were heading to form the line. Some gazes seemed to be more inquisitive than others, some, more friendly than others and some seemed simply not to care about her presence at all. Scar simply approached her, and pointed her to the start of the line. "Fish stew, if you like it. This man cooks it the best. If not, I can arrange for something else, but you don't really know what you're missing out on."