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 Post subject: The Mala-Fide
PostPosted: Wed Sep 19, 2012 1:04 am 
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Penguin Junior

Joined: Tue Sep 18, 2012 1:51 am
Posts: 1
~The Ship~

-Mala fide; to be done in bad faith / Said of an act done with knowledge of its illegality, or with intention to defraud or mislead someone. Opposite of bona fide.



She’s a bitter bitch tonight, aye Captain? The nimble ship rocked back and forth, cutting through the waves, the salt water keeping the crew damp and cold. It was what they preferred. As the lumber twisted and squealed, flexing to the might of the sea, the burly Half Orc snarled “Mind that trap of yers, lest ye find out first-hand how bitter it be… Ya should know better than to speak ill of the sea in my presence boy” “Now, take them ordinance an move em’ close to that artillery station” The unbaptized deckhand moved quickly as to not draw further ire from the mammoth of a Captain.

He slowly turned to his first mate, speaking from the side of his mouth, never taking his eyes off course. “toss ‘im in.. another one fer the ever lovin sea” The unsuspecting deckhand was gagged, weighted and quickly tossed overboard. Most of the crew feared nothing except their Captain; they had all been baptized by the sea. The vessel known as the Mala-Fide; its Captain was named Paszus.

As they broke from the keyes surrounding the hidden Island of Thovnos, their home since the exile. Flags were raised in the name of rightful heir to the throne, stolen from Ptolomy so many years ago. Through the looking glass to east and to the west, his was one of four ships that sailed abreast. Each ship commanded by its own Captain, which were bound by circumstance and heritage. All of them fueled by vengeance and the promise of the wealth that came with a rightful birthplace. Other motives were… questionable.

“Off we sail fer the riches men! Soon we will lay with their women, drink their Rum, and warm ourselves by a fire built from the wood of their shelters. You dogs will ‘ave your fill!”

They approached slowly from the East, and dropped anchor miles of port. “Baptist!” the Half Orc beckoned. “Aye Capt’n Paszus!?” questioned the ships medic. “Grab yer gear, you’ll row to here” A chubby finger smudges a marking on the map. “Get yer legs, send word when ya be ready” pointing to the Crow’s Nest he threatened “take too long, an I’ll send The Gimp fer ya” The healer grimaced, and nodded. “Do the Mala-Fide proud, now best ya get ta rowin’”

The small vessel was lowered into the water for the long row to shore. Many hours would pass, as the grinning one eyed man wobbled on his sea legs into town and went about his business of gathering a list of provisions for his vile captain and his away party. In the distance a charred and smoldering merchant ship was seen drifting in with the tide. A cluster of men that hung dead by their necks from the bowstrip, swung and twirled like dancing girls with the movement of the lifeless ship in the waves. The StormPort residents, merchants and Port Guards scurried about with fearful questions.

Paszus ground his heal into the worn wood floor of his wheel housing, resting his hand comfortably on his scabbard, as he grunted to his first mate. “That should send a message” “Fortune Favors the Strong” The first mate rubbed his greedy hands together “Aye, Home sweet home, Capt’n”


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