Octavius woke up with a groan. The comforting rock of the ship beneath him had the warlord feeling better than he might have, had he been stuck on land. As it was, he was left with a bit of a headache and a vicious hunger. He had no idea how long he had been passed out for, but it was very dark out now. The last thing he could remember was suggesting that they all get incredibly drunk. A look around had him wondering if they had had some kind of contest. He really hoped he had won. Losing to anyone at this point would just ruin his reputation. And the last thing he needed was for Ceres to beat him at a pirate's game. He might as well retire if he couldn't stay on top. Retiring was always painful for a pirate, though. It was the same way with Marines. With that in mind, the pirate commander dragged himself to his feet, and struck off to raid the larder, waiting for his memory to return. He needed to know that he had won, and some food would doubtless help that. It always had before. If nothing else, someone would be awake that had been witness to the whole affair, he was almost certain of that. They could confirm things for him.

Upon his arrival at the pantry, however, Captain Cuttlam found his progress blocked by one of the new crewmen he had picked up. The man looked like he was about ready to defend the ship's stores to the death. "Get out of the way, lad. I'm getting something to eat." he growled, his words slurring only a tiny bit. The man moved quickly when he realized that the warlord was no longer intoxicated. "Did ya see the contest on deck?" he asked, pushing past the sailor to start grabbing up an armful of edibles.

"I did, it was a good one." the sailor replied, he seemed fairly nonplussed about the whole affair however.

"It wasn't that good, though, aye?" Octavius was curious why someone wouldn't be inspired by their captain winning such a contest.

"Well... You, di-didn't win, skip..." the pirate replied, to which the captain started to laugh. But something in the sailor's voice had him turning around, and when he saw the look on the man's face, the warlord just about lost himself in the whirlwind of emotions that overtook him. He didn't know what to do with himself. On the plus side, he felt a lot better, but his physical condition wasn't a concern when he had to deal with the idea of losing. Ceres was the only one who could possibly beat him. He knew that much. His memory was good enough that the hazy details told him he'd been beaten by his first mate. An unacceptable fate if ever there was one. So of course, being a man of rational thought and reasonable reaction, the captain replaced his armload of various edible goods and snatched up two bottles of the strongest liquor on the ship, before seeming to disappear in a swirl of leather, sweat, and ferocity, with a hint of stale beer and defeat.

Of course, his solution to this problem was going to be drinking until he was better than Ceres. Or he wound up dead. He couldn't let such a defeat overcome him. It was just another obstacle in the way of his journey back to the golden age. It wasn't far, he knew, but it was going to take everything he had...