Post by Ember on Sept 20, 2016 22:55:08 GMT -5
The moon was full, a good night for sailors, for pirates less so. The Lord of Risk was docked, and most of the crew was ashore, drinking themselves to oblivion. They had been at sea for months, robbing and thieving and smuggling. The men had well earned the gold they were flooding the taverns and brothels with. A few of the crew remained aboard, ever on guard, but this was a port they knew well, and there seemed little threat.
Pirate Captain J Ebon sat atop her cabin, not relishing the thought of setting boots on land. Her men would come back sober and broke, and then she'd give them money to resupply. She rarely left her ship, so used to the motion of the waves that the unfamiliar stillness of solid earth had a tendency to turn her stomach. She also had a reputation to maintain, the mythos that her ship and her crew provoked. Few outside of her men knew she was a woman, and preferred to keep it that way. She might have been female, but she had a reputation for running a tight ship, in a way that even some of the men who had watched her grow felt a touch of fear for her.
The night was warm, and quiet. The wind was still, except for a small playful breeze that teased at her long, dark hair. For a moment, she had it down, her hat off, enjoying the freedom of the wind against her dusky skin. She still wore her mannish clothing, but up close, her fine shape was evident. Her hydra whip sat ever present at her left hand, her sword at her right.
She lifted a small dark jug to her lips and drank deeply.
Pirate Captain J Ebon sat atop her cabin, not relishing the thought of setting boots on land. Her men would come back sober and broke, and then she'd give them money to resupply. She rarely left her ship, so used to the motion of the waves that the unfamiliar stillness of solid earth had a tendency to turn her stomach. She also had a reputation to maintain, the mythos that her ship and her crew provoked. Few outside of her men knew she was a woman, and preferred to keep it that way. She might have been female, but she had a reputation for running a tight ship, in a way that even some of the men who had watched her grow felt a touch of fear for her.
The night was warm, and quiet. The wind was still, except for a small playful breeze that teased at her long, dark hair. For a moment, she had it down, her hat off, enjoying the freedom of the wind against her dusky skin. She still wore her mannish clothing, but up close, her fine shape was evident. Her hydra whip sat ever present at her left hand, her sword at her right.
She lifted a small dark jug to her lips and drank deeply.