Carl
Not A Llama...
Gin was strolling around the alleyways and unpaved streets of Smuggler's Cove with his arms behind his head, taking in all that he saw. The cove was vibrant just like he remembered from his younger days when he was part of his father's crew, bars were filled to the brim with occasionally a spot opening up after someone got thrown out in a friendly, or unfriendly, brawl. Shopkeepers were loud and obnoxiously promoting their so-called treasures. Seagulls were flying over the establishments and the sun was shining hard upon the earth.
" Aaahh, this is the life. " He thought as he peared over his shoulder, looking at a possible hearbreaker.
" I wonder what the rest of the crew is up to, it's been a while since we've docked...I'm sure they'll be alright anyway. "
He rearranged his vest to cover up his dynamite sticks better, he didn't want a kid lighting them for fun and blowing this entire island to smithereens.
" Playing with the devil " He called it if someone asked why an Oil-Man was carrying something that was meant to be kept as far away from him as possible.
He stopped at " The Rearing Stallion " and looked at the hangsign, it was barely hanging on to its hinges and on the wooden plack was, appropriatly, a rearing silver stallion portrayed.
" This will do just fine. " He said to himself and entered the bar, seating himself in a corner...he didn't like to leave his back unprotected when not moving, exceptions are made when he's with his crew.
" Woman, good woman, I'll have a pint. " He said loud enough to be heared at the counter.
It didn't take long for the waitress to bring him his pint, he paid in bronze coins and thought to himself...
" Yes, this is the life. "
" Aaahh, this is the life. " He thought as he peared over his shoulder, looking at a possible hearbreaker.
" I wonder what the rest of the crew is up to, it's been a while since we've docked...I'm sure they'll be alright anyway. "
He rearranged his vest to cover up his dynamite sticks better, he didn't want a kid lighting them for fun and blowing this entire island to smithereens.
" Playing with the devil " He called it if someone asked why an Oil-Man was carrying something that was meant to be kept as far away from him as possible.
He stopped at " The Rearing Stallion " and looked at the hangsign, it was barely hanging on to its hinges and on the wooden plack was, appropriatly, a rearing silver stallion portrayed.
" This will do just fine. " He said to himself and entered the bar, seating himself in a corner...he didn't like to leave his back unprotected when not moving, exceptions are made when he's with his crew.
" Woman, good woman, I'll have a pint. " He said loud enough to be heared at the counter.
It didn't take long for the waitress to bring him his pint, he paid in bronze coins and thought to himself...
" Yes, this is the life. "