S&S: Choices

      Today’s snippet, titled “Choices”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Paul’s new pirate themed Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there may be mature themes and naughty language below.
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      “She say anything to you?”
      “Nuh.” Red shook his head, tilting his head to check his newly trimmed beard for symmetry. “Not a word. Jakuz neither. No one said nothing to me.”
      Lorenzo breathed a sigh of relief. It had been six days since Sawbones had pulled him into her office to conspire toward mutiny, yet nothing had happened toward that end. No one had remarked upon Red and his return to the daily life of the ship, either. He was surprised, but also nonplussed.
      “I will seek her out tonight, if she does not come to the mess hall. I heard Jakuz telling Fatboy that we will set to port in Ilizmagorti within two days, then onto Port Peril within another ten. She will want to act before we hit Peril, I should think.”
      “Yuh.”
      “Are you ready for whatever will come?”
      “Yuh.”
      Chuckling, Lorenzo rose from the bunk. “Well, let us go to supper then. I cannot wait to taste that stew Faedrin had me working on all day. It smelled amazing.”

* * * * *

      The stew was passable; but everyone remarked on how good it smelled. Lorenzo supposed it could have used more salt. He would keep that in mind if he ever made it again, on his own. Faedrin was stingy with the salt – one thing that was rarely lacking on a ship.
      Faur did not show up at the table that night either.
      Lorenzo left Red in their tiny cabin and headed toward the Sawbones’ office. He clutched his elbow, feigning an injury, just in case someone stopped him.
      No one did.
      Her room was empty, the blood-stained gurney covered with a sheet of canvas.
      “Sawbones, are you awake, madame? I have need of your services tonight.”
      There was no reply. Lorenzo took a step back, prepared to give up on finding Faur this evening, when his eye alighted upon a canister on the floor. He stooped down to pick it up. Dreamtime tea? Why would- His thought stopped mid-sentence and he stood hastily, giving the office a critical look. The vials and jars on her shelves had been disturbed – several were askew and out of place. It was easy to tell that they were no longer in Faur’s rigid, precise order. The sheet on the table had not been there before. He lifted the corner and his worry grew. Fresh blood upon the surface dripped from the waxed canvas. It had not soaked the fabric so there was no tell-tale stain.
      This is not good for us. He thought, replacing the can on the ground and backing out of the surgeon’s office. If they have moved against the Sawbones, they will have no qualm about Red and I.
      He flew down the hallway, no longer feigning injury, and slammed the cabin door behind him. Red sat up with a start.
      “Wha-da-fuck?” He grumbled. Rubbing his eyes, Red flung his legs over the edge of the bunk and yawned. “That you, Ren?”
      “We are in trouble, mon frere. Someone drugged the Sawbones with Dreamtime vapors. She has vanished. I think we are next.”
      “Fuck.”
      “We should stay in the cabin until the Mermaid puts to Port in Ilizmagorti, then disembark with the crew and disappear into the crowds. We can hide out until she heads back out to see and find new passage to Port Peril.”
      Red scrunched up his face. “What about the Cap’ and Sawbones? What about all them what’s stuck down in the fuckin’ room?”
      Pursing his lips, Lorenzo inhaled sharply. “They-”
      “They’re slaves, Ren.”
      “But-”
      “Slaves. Fuckin’ slaves. It ain’t right.”
      Lorenzo nodded. He abhorred slavery, it offended his whimsical nature. The very thought that one person could own another, making all their choices for them, taking away their free will, and their liberty. It is one thing to sell yourself into servitude, or to be indentured for your crimes, he thought, glancing to the scars his friend still bore around his wrists. But not the innocents and not those who did not choose that life. A little bondage is fun in its own way, Bless the Stinging Bitch, but this is not that. This is sick.
      “You are right, Red. We have to do something to get them free of Kiskaeyn.”
      “Yuh.” Red nodded emphatically, then paused. “What?”

– – – – – – – – – – –
Signed, Josie
Note: Image is “Skull” by (George Crux) and “Black Cuffs” by (Andrzej Pobiedzinski) from SXC.hu; edited by me

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