"[i]PTOOOEY[/i]!" 

Spitting out leaves, he scrabbled out of the thick foliage, vines clinging to his shirt like the grasping hands of a Castillian whorehouse. The trees and ferns were so close together, it was almost like swimming, and once he finally stumbled out into cultivated land he felt he had broken the surface and he could finally breathe again. Once he found his feet, and blinked from the sudden light of the overbearing sun, weighing on him almost more than his regret. He shielded his eyes with a hand and squinted, looking down the kilometer slope to see the sprawling den of thieves and killers he'd been searching for. 

"Oi, what ye doin' on mah land?" A voice inquired, a bit nettled by the sound of it. Neil turned to his left, and saw a plump, sweating man wearing a wide brimmed hat looking at him, a farming tool Neil didn't quite recognize in his hands. Glancing back to the slope, it wasn't grass that separated him from Free Sail, it was a small field of tall sugar cane. Neil pursed his lips, looked back at the jungle, and then shrugged. 

"Oh, I'm a part of the captain's council, just asked to check the place out." He said, beginning to move on. "Yep, still looks like a bunch of palm trees to this one." 

"Hey! Where are yo-" 

"No need to be a church bell, I'm fuckin' off!" Neil called back, stepping down into the field and disappearing into the sugar cane before the farmer could even think about pursuit. The young buccaneer was healthy and light on his feet, and could sneak like a ship rat. He made good time through the field, glad to know he was just a short jaunt to the city. Soon he could no longer hear the cries of the farmer, and though he occasionally heard the rustling of farmhands, he saw no one else until he stepped out from the produce and hopped the short fence separating the small plantation with the edge of the greater city. 

Bloody storm had hit him hard. He'd jump ship from the [i]Infiltrator[/i] just days ago on a lesser islet, procuring a longboat for himself just a days row from the greater island. Was his luck a squall ripped through. He didn't think he would make it for a coin toss there, but he managed to beach his boat on a spit of land, which with luck, happened to be the ass end of the island. The whole day he had been cutting and ducking his way through trees and snakes and spiders the size of a man's face. 

The affable, dark haired rogue found the trade road by Calico Tower, a lightly manned sentinel that kept an eye on the back end of the city in case of a more daring play by the old world powers, or at least that was the idea. In practice, it was there to curb any thieves or drunkards from trying to finagle or threaten any land-bound merchants and farmers just trying to make a living and transporting their produce. The shadow of the tower felt nice, but the shantytown was like the spray of the sea. Guttural laughing and raucous talk filled his ears, children ran across in front of him with all the urgency of royal ships in pursuit, and shifty eyed vagabonds watched from the shadows of their makeshift homes of driftwood, seeing who might be a fine target this day. Neil liked the shanties as much as the next sailor, the goods were cheap and people asked even less questions than other pirates, but he had business in the inner city. 

He passed through Drake's Gate, a northern roadway that had no gate despite the name. A rusted brass statue of Grand Admiral Drake stood with his legendary pipe, watching every passerby with a twinkle of mischief in his dead eyes. They said the pipe could call forth the sailors of the long dead, but Neil was keen on staying with the living for the foreseeable future, mind.

The City of Free Sail was a welcome sight. The buildings were functional and well made, but they didn't get all haughty with it. Stout stone, local timber, gaudy colors, whatever memorabilia could be collected were used half the time. Tenships Tannery was close by, sticking near the fresher water further inland, situated near a number of houses and apartments besides Crimson Keep, a small fortified manor bought by Les Fréres de Fer. Neil even spied a few of the kittens smoking outside the Tobacco House, the plumes in their hats loud and clear to the eye. A shoddy carriage rolled by as less well-to-do locals and sailors went about their business, calling for one another in desperation or anger. Neil turned right, and headed to the eastern side of the city, knowing he could reach the south quicker this way. 

He turned down black street, where most of the eastern dives were located. The smell of alcohol and a stray dog with a slab of meat announced Mort's Distillery, men cavorting and drinking their due under the shade of the arches as women served them and bounced on their legs, giggling. The best liquor in the seas, Herri had called it. Neil spotted a few Freebooter lads and waved, laughing when they recognized him and threw lewd gestures his way as a manner of comraderie. Neil gave back worse than he got, which caused more laughter and smiles all around. They waved him to join, but he shook his head. 

"Herri?" He called to them over the din. 

"Ho?" A few asked, but the closest pointed west. Neil understood and waved his thanks. Speaking of lewd, across and a short walk down the street was Black Street Palace. If the perfume didn't give it away, the heavily rouged women hanging from the third story windows with their pale tits shining like beacons in the bright sun were hard to miss. A few blew kisses his way, or so it seemed, but the crowds were like the torrent of a river, and Neil wasn't interested. He had business, he kept telling himself. At the street corner, under the vast statue of a stolen Vallé D'Or lion reared up and roaring, a snake oil salesman was being accosted by three grim men of the black fleet. Neil gritted his teeth and wished him well, but turned left and away, passing Rowers & Son's and the less popular Gorman's Brewery, where the Black Fleet and a few tougher mercenaries had made their haunt.  

Passed Free Sail Firearms and Andor's Arms, where Neil had gotten his backsword's new hilt, he slipped out of the way of a carriage with Captain Morgan's sigil, and stepped into the Ivory Inn. Immediately he heard curses as a man in the midst of a large game threw his cards down, angered at ill fortune or cheating. Multiple groups of men from different crews ate their fill and gossiped, a few of the older sea dogs had gathered a crowd, sharing stories of serpents and sea witches. Neil passed them all and headed to the back. It was time to meet Herri and get what was coming to him. 

"Hey sailor, can I get you anything?" A flirtatious barmaid asked, giving an inviting smile. 

"Unless you got a duke's daughter or a crew of killers under that bodice, I doubt it." He said, walking passed without so much as a look.