Crikey McGillicutty, how can these pirates be such philistines? Their reckless mixing of red and white wine varietals borders on sacrilege and upsets my sensibilities. Not to mention their swilling of 25 year old whiskey like it was gut rot from Kingsport is shocking. I have also discovered they have no palette or appreciation for fine cheese. What sort of barbarian melts aged cheese and pours it atop beef? And over my good candelabras no less! Savages!

However, they have shown some culinary sense and are taken with the savory breads and delicate pastries that Alley has produced in her bakery. Who knew that pirates would have such a penchant for twisted bread rolls?

But, their gold coins shine as good as any other. Despite their social graces, or lack thereof, it has become clear that where there are pirates, there is booty. Where there is booty, there is the opportunity for trade. And the unsophisticated rapscallions have agreed to engage in some brisk trade with a man who doesn’t ask too many question.

Since I have never been accused of such, we have struck a festive trade agreement. For the use of the tavern and some storage facilities I am not liberty to discuss, I will take ownership of some coins from under the table. This practice seems unnecessary to me, as coins should be placed on top of the table so they can be counted and don’t get lost in the cracks of the floorboards. But, the pirates have their own system of business and I won’t let such arcane rituals stand in the way of making a few coins.

Working quickly, Alley has established an import export emporium near the tavern dock so we may expedite our trade under the cover of darkness, which is how pirates prefer to operate. They are quick and nimble under the cloak of night. They are far less daunting by candlelight I must admit, so this is a good practice.

To commence our business dealings, we have taken possession of several fine casks of ale, plenty of nondescript burlap sacks full of goodies, and many unmarked crates which shall be stored in an undisclosed location for an undisclosed amount of time. Apparently I will get “the signal” when they are ready to reclaim their goods.

I ponder the feasibility of these lax attitudes. But, they have been engaged in such endeavors for longer than I, so I shall continue with my mantra, and ask no questions.

Worthy of note, the pirates have commissioned a robust shipment of Alley’s delectable baked goods for their return voyage. Before long we might even engage the lads in high tea.

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Well done my good man. You stand guard and make sure none abscond with any of these unknown goods from an unknown origin.

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And yes, I do agree, using the longboat to navigate through town is a fine idea. I fully realize Iris was not made for these waters.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

I regrettably admit my first forays into the pirate life have encountered a few unforeseen entanglements. Therefore, while I undertake the needed repairs to my fine sailing craft, I have devised another ingenious scheme to collect pirate loot. And from pirates no less.

I may not be gifted with nautical prowess, although my skills at walking the plank are now the stuff of legend. I do however possess an affinity for brewing fine ales and whiskeys without lumps. And what do pirates savor more than whiskey? That’s right, nothing! They are drawn to it like a moth to flame. Therefore I have set to the task of making numerous batches of premium ales and aged whiskeys to sell to my pirate confederates. This shall be garnished with savory meats and cheeses. All to be served in a very tasteful, decorative and upscale public house.

I have even imported the rare, and slightly dangerous flesh flayer plants. Not only are they a hypnotic delight to watch, they make up a key ingredient in my renowned Obsidian Elemental Guano Stout with Flesh Flayer Bitters. It is a mostly secret ale recipe I have been perfecting for years. Soon it will have just the right amount of bite without being mortally poisonous.

To keep away the unsophisticated commoners and general dragoons, and to let the pirate fellows know we are open and ready to cater to their needs, I have placed banners with their insignia, welcoming my pirate brethren. I am even offering ship repair services. Well, not me specifically, I am still learning the trade, and need time to recover from the hammer and chisel mishap.

But, I have made available my construction machinery for those heavy tasks. I have even provided an option to take a fabulous gondola ride around the Hollow.

We all know that pirates love gondola rides. A soothing and meditative cruise while enjoying a fine whiskey is an offer too good to pass up.

The pirates will flock to our shores. They will feast on delectables and enjoy the aromatic ales I have hand-crafted. It will be a glorious endeavor!

Behold, the aptly named Dirty Scoundrel! A fine pirate dining establishment!

I regrettably admit my first forays into the pirate life have encountered a few unforeseen entanglements. Therefore, while I undertake the needed repairs to my fine sailing craft, I have devised another ingenious scheme to collect pirate loot. And from pirates no less.

I may not be gifted with nautical prowess, although my skills at walking the plank are now the stuff of legend. I do however possess an affinity for brewing fine ales and whiskeys without lumps. And what do pirates savor more than whiskey? That’s right, nothing! They are drawn to it like a moth to flame. Therefore I have set to the task of making numerous batches of premium ales and aged whiskeys to sell to my pirate confederates. This shall be garnished with savory meats and cheeses. All to be served in a very tasteful, decorative and upscale public house.

I have even imported the rare, and slightly dangerous flesh flayer plants. Not only are they a hypnotic delight to watch, they make up a key ingredient in my renowned Obsidian Elemental Guano Stout with Flesh Flayer Bitters. It is a mostly secret ale recipe I have been perfecting for years. Soon it will have just the right amount of bite without being mortally poisonous.

To keep away the unsophisticated commoners and general dragoons, and to let the pirate fellows know we are open and ready to cater to their needs, I have placed banners with their insignia, welcoming my pirate brethren. I am even offering ship repair services. Well, not me specifically, I am still learning the trade, and need time to recover from the hammer and chisel mishap.

But, I have made available my construction machinery for those heavy tasks. I have even provided an option to take a fabulous gondola ride around the Hollow.

We all know that pirates love gondola rides. A soothing and meditative cruise while enjoying a fine whiskey is an offer too good to pass up.

The pirates will flock to our shores. They will feast on delectables and enjoy the aromatic ales I have hand-crafted. It will be a glorious endeavor!

Behold, the aptly named Dirty Scoundrel! A fine pirate dining establishment!

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There we have it! The pirate insignia is at full mast!
And the construction crane is at the ready should any mishaps come to pass.
It also makes for some fine entertainment through agility and feats of strength.

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My flesh flayer lovelies. Fun to look at, excellent flavor, and they protect the barrels.

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That will be a fine batch! It has all the hallmarks of being great. Excellent aroma, quality ingredients. No lumps. I’m getting good at this.

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Jugs of whiskey
Bottle of acquired Eleven wine
Some delicious cheese from the Clink
And a bit of smoked seafood for the discerning palette
This is going to go well

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

In the grand scheme of things, purchasing a pirate ship is a relatively simple task. You find some pirates, you haggle, you gesture, you threaten, you drink ale, and finally hand over some agreed upon amount of coins. I’m quite capable in this regard.

Taking said ship and docking it at your place of residence where we hit the tricky bit. In all the excitement, I turned a blind eye to a few key details.

Since my companionship with water has only consisted of a frolic in the bath or hot tub, and only on full moon Saturdays, whether I need it or not, I had neglected to recall that I do indeed get seasick.

This lead to the further oversight in that I am reminded I never mastered the art of using a bucket as a privy while on board a vessel. A bit of sneaky use behind the pub has never been a concern however.

I also failed to engage the services of a crew. I am multi-talented and multi-faceted in that I can dance and not spill my ale. I can kick and stab. I can run and scream. I can even bob and weave. However, I cannot steer and raise a sail at the same time. That is simply asking too much. It was therefore necessary to take on the pirates of Penmawr Island themselves, which unto itself wasn’t bad, except they tried out a variety of pirate names on me during the voyage.

Several of their choices were rather ridiculous. A handful were a dash insulting. And a couple were downright lies and a total fabrication of the truth!

They eventually gave up on choosing a pirate name, commenting that no one would every surrender to me, no matter what I called myself. They then turned their enjoyment to making me walk the plank for my every misuse of nautical terms. I lost count of how many times I went overboard.

After nearly catching my death and almost being eaten by a shark, they put me below deck and told me to string hammocks. On the bright side, I have learned a new skill and found a new hobby.

Lastly, and perhaps this should have been noted first, Stinging Tree Hollow is indeed a hallow. It is not Stinging Tree Isle, or Peninsula, or Bay, or Key. We have an admirable river, but having a river is not the same as having a navigable tributary.

Taking these into account, I see some flaws in my decision making paradigm. I may have embraced the pirate life a dash prematurely.

Alley listened to my clever plan to raise the water level of the Hollow to a sufficient depth for sea faring travel. Finding several flaws in my scheme, she opted for a different choice.

Alley is a genius when it comes to use of the block and tackle, the swing arm construction crane, and the scaffold.

After taking many measurements, adjusting for unusual angles, and the clever use of some leftover barrels, the somewhat rickety craft was skillfully guided over land and through the narrow waterways so that it is now properly dry-docked where I can undertake the necessary repairs to make it shipshape and bristol fashion. This will also allow me to take the time to engage the services of a proper crew that will listen to my orders and not cast me over the rail. Not to mention some lessons in the use of the bucket.

In retrospect I should have spoken to Anton and made arrangements in Kingsport, but the deed is done and there is no looking back.

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Yes, it does have a few leaks, has been shot at, does show signs of some fire damage, has some stains of an origin I am unable to identify, and emits an odor that must be dealt with. But, when these minor sticking points are resolved, all shall fear the Marea Foetidissima.

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Crikey, this is really high.

 

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

I have come to realize that the life of an adventurer is a rather dangerous one. With the many perils I have faced, I feel that every fellow in a hood and mask is out to do me harm. And no matter how hard I try to put the dead in undead, my efforts are thwarted. Finally, I have had too many near death, and actual death experiences.

To that end, I have hatched a new scheme. The life of a scalawag pirate is just the opportunity I have been looking for. I can maraud the seas, lay siege to towns, and haul in untold fortunes without ever having to leave the safety and comfort of the main deck.

Alas, the start of my new enterprise meant a trip to the less than savory shores of Penmawr Island. While I enjoy a good bit of drunken revelry and wanton swordsmanship in the streets, these lads have allowed matters to get a little out of hand. It’s gotten to the point where a chap can’t walk about with unprotected sacks of gold without being molested.

But, once I explained I would gladly hand over my coins for a worthy sailing vessel, they embraced me as one of their own.

After brushing off the filth from that embrace, I got down to business with their head man. Or rather, the fellow that had been promoted to head man since the previous head man had been incapacitated the previous night by some vagabond demonstrating their mastery of the drunken rampage skill. I wasn’t aware that was a skill one could actually achieve mastery in, but I suppose the rules are a bit different on the island.

Nevertheless, I explained my intentions and my need for a ship. A fast ship. A fast ship with many cargo holds to store my newly found wealth. I explained I was in no mood for trifles like the longboat or pleasure houseboats. I wanted a vessel of mass devastation. One that would instill fear in all who saw her. One that would command people to give up in abject terror and hurl their coins at me.

They explained if they had such a vessel they would keep it for themselves, but revealed they had a galleon. A unique fixer-upper opportunity that I could have for a very reasonable price. It had recently returned to port after encountering a slight mishap with it’s captain, and they were eager to send it back to sea.

When I inquired as to the nature of the “mishap”, I was informed the details were sketchy, but it somehow involved bad fish chowder, icebergs, and some unstable barrels of combustible powder, not to mention the loss of many barrels of fine whiskey. They wept at the loss of the whiskey.

“But, we are in a tropical area. There are no icebergs available in these parts,” I explained.
“Exactly!” He replied. “That’s what makes it all so mysterious!”

We then sat down to negotiate the terms of the sale.

After much ale, multiple threats, the brandishing of swords, full contact acts of juggling, stern rebukes as to my sea faring prowess, and assurances that by the liberal application of creosote and cinnamon bark, the smells from the lower decks would indeed dissipate, a deal was reached and sacks of gold were exchanged.

Then the head man asked me a question for which I was completely unprepared.

“So, by what pirate name shall ye be known?” He asked.
“Sorry, pirate name?” I replied.
“Oh yes indeed. You need to give yourself a worthy pirate name. No one is going to surrender to PeteWi The Disoriented. And of course your vessel will need to be named something as equally diabolical. And no girly names! Everyone wants to name their ship the “Queen” this, or the “Princess” that. Ships need to have inspiring names that start with “Dirty” this, or “Vengeful” that. Say, you look like you should be captain of the “Vengeful Salamander!”
“Dear me, that is indeed an awe-inspiring name. I came ill-prepared for such matters. I was not aware I would need a new name for myself or the ship,” I confessed.
“No matter,” he said with a missing toothed smile. “We’re here to help. Have a seat. Buy a bottle, or dozen. And we shall come up with a name together.”

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Huzzah! I have a new sailing vessel! The pirates drive a hard bargain, but the ship is mine!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

Windy, you were right. I admit that. I am not fully versed in the operational guidelines and inner workings of the Kobold conveyance and some mistakes were made. I did underestimate the turning radius, that is for sure. And true, I did become rather giddy with the need to go faster. It may have also been a mistake to push all the pretty colored buttons at once.

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The craft is now marooned and the natives are quite hostile. I believe they are coming to discuss compensations for the actions I have taken here today.

Fear not, my carefully honed negotiating tactics will set things right.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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