The inside of the Buggered Whale smelled the same as Markus would imagine its namesake smelled. A thousand stenches of wrong, mixed with the vague sense of sweat one gets for holding a drink or sitting on your ass too long. A balding man behind the counter watched Markus carefully, no doubt pondering if he really should have opened the tavern this night. He no doubt had many rough patrons, but a pirate Captain looking for a crew either spelled a brawl, or a visit from the local law enforcement. Neither had happened yet, so the man was on edge. 

A cheer rose up among the myriad of men and women drinking, enjoying themselves. But as the cheers died down, the conversations didn't continue. The silence became defeaning as they all watched the wolfish Captain and his beautiful, devilish companion. He had no idea who in here was to join and who was here to merely drink and boast. "All who wish to join the crew, come to me table and stake your case." he said to them, cutting through the silence and turning to the left corner of the room. The floor clapped by his boots, he found himself staring at a ruffian drinking a pint. 

"You're in my chair boy." Markus warned sardonically, though the man was likely a decade his senior, he realized. At first Markus saw a brief glimpse of anger in the man's eyes, though they were quickly overriden by fear, and he nodded stupidly. "Y-Yes sir. Might I bring your lady friend a chair too?" 

Markus nodded, and the man rushed to do just that. The blademage couldn't help but grin. Sketti had apparently played up his reputation quite a bit. It was easy giving off an aura of blood that would cow most would be toughs. He'd led a bloody life, it was true. Perhaps not a lawless and merciless one. He had only killed when he had to. He just happened to be in situations where battle and murder was often the prudent course to go.  

The torches flickered overhead as the two sat down. For her part, Calliope held an aura of power of her own that even unnerved Markus, though they'd spent the better part of the past week together. A part of him found himself growing more and more attracted to her, and the other part of himself felt as if he was going insane. As the bar patrons stood up to get in line and pledge themselves to the crew, the balding barman approached, sweating and smiling. He reminded Markus of a fat rat that gnawed at whatever favor it could curry. 

"Might I get you two drinks?" he asked with a high pitched yet breathless voice. 

"What's the best you have?" Markus asked, eyeing the man. He mentioned rum, Banian wine, Vrettonian wine, and Norgard Ale. Markus shrugged. "Rum for now." while Calliope ordered a glass of the Vrettonian red. The barman didn't see the figure towering over him from behind, and he squealed when he was knocked aside by a burly arm from the large man. He was particularly ugly, with a wide paunch and an underbite with protruding, sharp teeth that spoke of Orcish heritage. 

"What are ye fer? Who made ye Captain eh? Comin' in here and askin' fer a crew." the man sneered, chuckling. "Tell ye what. I'll be Captain, and I'll gives yes protection. Might shack up wif your lady friend here." He leered at Calliope with clear intentions in his eyes. He noticed Markus' incredulous look, and puffed out his chest even more. "This here is Porto's bar, and ye don't come in without asking first." 

Markus understood immediately. Most rougher taverns had a 'champion.' Essentially a tough leader of the patrons who ruled by strength and fear. 

"You look like the lad that buggered the whale. Tell you what, I'll make you a deckhand and you can haul the anchor." the Blademage replied, to the increasing rage of the brute. He raised his arms to come crashing down on the table. Markus flicked a coin his way nonchalantly, though his eyes had steeled. "Here's an advance on your wages." 

Porto's anger distracted for a moment, he hesitated and watched the coin's descent. As his head moved down, his left eye came in line with Markus' throwing dagger, abruptly ending the brute's life unceremoniously. Blood seeped out of his eye socket, and a moment later he fell backwards and hit the floor with a ground shaking 'thud.' The bar went quiet once more, only to be ended by the Captain again. "Sorry to dirty your floor. Now get those drinks." 

The crew that had accumulated in the Buggered Whale was as varied as the continent. They met Jax the Caelic half elf first, an accented and energetic, experienced sailor, bare chested and covered in lined tattoos, though his most prominent feature was his fiery red mane of hair. There was Halvar, a blonde bearded warrior of Norgard, hailing from the Kingdom of Thangoradrim, known for their monster slayers and disciplines raiders on the seas and mountains. Following him was a tall and imposing woman of hard muscle and a womanly figure, with long hair as crimson as blood. On her back was a nicked bastard sword, and her skin was grey brown, as dust. She was taller than Markus and Calliope, with broad shoulders fit for hard labor. That, along with her hide garments and rough tongue showed she was a Scythian, from the barbarian plains. Her name was Corsica. The one that approached after her was the one she had been eyeing all night, though this one seemed far less enthusiastic about joining a crew. He was a stately but young Elven scholar, with chestnut hair and dirtied robes, and a large leather bound book in his arms. A 'scribe and a scholar of many interests' he claimed, though he was obviously here because of a lack of options elsewhere. The elf had introduced himself as Aetheron, and he nearly pissed himself when the next volunteer stepped forward. At first Markus didn't know if this beast was going to leap onto the table and devour them, or if he simply bared his teeth and drooled all the time. It was a towering Gnoll, lanky but muscled, with powerful legs and clawed hands. 

"Sron." He replied to the question of what they should call him, and he placed his mark on the ledger of names by scratching an 'X.' 

The next three men were experienced deckhands, and if Markus didn't miss his guess, triplets, by the way of them looking almost identical, their names being Will, Bill, and Phil. They each wore bandannas over their bald heads, muticolored so as to tell them apart from the other. 

Lastly, a young lad who couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen stepped up, with the look of a commoner, and brown hair. He seemed almost as hesitant as the Elf, but he had little choice in the matter as well. "Jim," he said, hoisting his pack more securing around his shoulders. "You won't regret it, sirs. A-And madam." 
[hr] 

Hours later, the bar had emptied of all the patrons save Markus, Calliope, and Sketti, who all now enjoyed the Norgardian Ale. Calliope had kept her expression neutral, save for her curling her lip in disgust at a few of them. Markus took a swig and planked his mug back on the table. 

"So, what'll ye be paying us? Regular shares?" Sketti asked, Gold lust in his eyes. Markus grinned in his cup. "I never said you were on the crew." 

That brought a glare from Sketti, and Markus laughed. They both knew Markus was joking. Sketti would bring them plenty of firearms and valuable experience. "So, what do ye think of the crew?" Sketti asked through his crumb filled beard. "Best of the best, ay?" 

"Best you could find, more like." Markus replied, but held his hand out to halt any protests or claims by Sketti. "Don't worry, they're fine. It works for me, and as long as it works for my first mate, and..." he looked to Calliope. "I think we're both just ready to start our pirating. Aye?" 
[@Penny]