It’s a good thing I’ve got that Automatic Wizardly Healing Spell that will activate itself even if I’m unconscious. Thanks to Cuervo and Smokey, the ship is no longer in danger of ‘splodin’, Captain, so I’ll just be about fixin’ the holes and such that that rascal Malacandra left us with … and work on my plan to wreak revenge, o’course. No man gives me a scar and gets away without payin’ for it, in one way or another. :mad:
:: Laghing while standing on the dragon shaped prow of a long ship (that sailed up in all the confusion) wearing armor, and holding a giant axe ::
There’s always gonna be someoe sneaking around on the ship, trying to blow it up. That’s the reason I never keep explosives aboard any of my ships. My motto: “If you need cannons and guns, you’re not a real Nordic warrior.”
So, anyway, this huge explosion… and you all survived… my work is done here.
Do you need a Parrot? Onan would love to help out and he like showing off in front of ladies.
Thankfully, Draelin, bein’ a wizard and all, can heal. Malacandara, however forgets that his eyeballs were left on the end of the claws of the felines he so thoughtlessly tossed overboard, where they now make fine fish food.
Since things have settled a bit, and Draelin is making wizardish repairs, I’ll return to straighten things out a bit and tend to any of the crew that those lazy good-fur-nothin concubines have been ignoring… 
Oh, please? Can I borrow Onan? He’s such a sweetheart!
I am fairly certain that I was promised a parrot whenever I signed on for this “mission.”
Still no parrot.
I don’t appreciate the rat with the cardboard wings tacked on you tried to give me. You’re not fooling anybody.
If you want this concubine to keep concubinin’, I suggest you get crackin’ on this.
Makes Unkempt a parrot out of mist The only rule is that yer parrot can’t be cooler than the Cap’n’s.
Get back to concubinin’, if ye know what’s good for ye.
[QUOTE=Malacandra
(eleanorigby must think old Mal was born yesterday.)[/QUOTE]
How dare you? You scurvy knave! I offered meself to ya, in the spirit of the End Times and I get insulted! Well, I never!
(at least not with you…<rim shot>)
:wheedles with a sly look: me hearty one, Mal --I could tell you things about Her Captainess that would curl yer hair–above and below decks, if you follow me. I know her weaknesses and her…er, appetites.
Just give a whistle lover-man. I’m ready for the Aunt Jemima treatment on the foredeck…
:eek: :eek: :eek:
: Inigo is sitting on the aft deck of The Bloody Rag filling in for the now defunct rudder. And drinking a LOT of rum :
You gonna flap my jack or are you gonna waffle?
:wally
slaps the back of Inigo’s head It’s the LadyHawk, you doltish concubine! Report to my quarters at 8 PM for punishment & retraining!
Damn! Sneak off for a catnap and I miss EVERYTHING!
Draelin, did I mention Smokey was enchanted? say the right words and she’ll turn into an unstoppable tigress, loyal to Anaamika and her crew
I haven’t the magicks to effect this, but surely you do…
Swimming cats I have no trouble accepting. Swimming cats that can leap on board a ship with a single bound and not only scent out a smoking slow-match but understand why it is imperative to do so I find nearly as odd as wizards that can both cast Meteor Shower and have automatic healing spells to rescue them from mortal wounds. mr bus guy seems to have made a mistake over my eyeballs though. It’s all of a piece with being unable to copy my name off the screen where it’s right in front of him, I guess. :rolleyes:
Well, while the wizard is busy and Inigo Montoya is doing his highly unconvincing impersonation of a rudder, I’d best cast off this net and sink slowly beneath the waters leaving only a trail of bubbles behind… (tshyeah, right).
<sighs, bangs self upside the head with wooden spoon>
I says to meself, “Lass, why d’ya always pick the wrong man?”
<sigh> Back to the dishes for me…
eleanorigby is startled out of her dishwashing reverie by the characteristic thunk of a narrow-bladed throwing knife embedding itself into wood. A slip of paper wrapped around the hilt bears the legend:
There is a single wet footprint by the galley doorway.
So I says to meself, (says I)–“tis only that waterlogged snake of man, come back to use me like a wet dish rag, wring me out and throw me overboard again.”
I’ve learned me lesson. Once this ship docks, it’s off to the Nunnery of Reformed Prostitutes/Wenches and Short Order Cooks for me.
:looks at the note again:
Wait a minute–my waterlogged snake of a man canno’ write! Who be this craiture?
:peers out porthole:
Cook, ignore that note! We be off for some fine lootin’ and plunderin’! I’ve got this here treasure map, let’s go look for it!
Why is eleanorigby sticking her eers out of the porthole? 
::wakes, stretches, yawns::
I missed another battle? Now we’re off after treasure? I need more caffeine!!