Sarpedon

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

Octavius tried the whole "getting up early" thing. It didn't take him long that most people were too hung over to sail a ship properly. Instead, he went back to bed, quietly announcing, "Fuck this shit. Let'em sleep." to the world before snuggling back into his hammock and passing out once more. He didn't see the point in dragging people out of bed to try and set sail. Especially since he wasn't even good enough to drink his first mate under the table. So the ship sat at anchor and floated about, waiting for its crew to rouse themselves and prepare to actually cast off. Around ten or so in the morning, the captain finally decided he should probably work on getting everyone moving. Someone had to get them to the grand line, and it wasn't going to happen with the Powder Keg still above the sea floor. The first step, though, was to actually get out of bed. The warlord managed that without too much trouble. The second step seemed to be looking the part. That was damn-near impossible since Ceres had hacked away at his pride like a lumberjack at a choice hardwood. He supposed he could try, though. The man arranged himself as best he could, and made sure his scattergun stayed close at hand. He wasn't going to put up with anyone disrespecting him. He had plenty of buckshot still. More than enough to quiet any dissension amongst the ranks.

With that, he headed for the top deck, wondering if the damage to his pride was just building up to something so much worse. Pride goeth before destruction... A haughty spirit before a fall... the warning echoed in his mind. "Fuck'em all. I'm goddamn Octavius Cuttlam." he sword to himself, shoving back any thoughts of failure, and ignoring any and all warning signs that he was an insane, rage-drunk pirate with a ragtag crew and a small-man complex. He reached the deck with a new-found enthusiasm, and started looking for his first mate. She might as well be the one doing the yelling. She seemed awfully good at talking shit, she could probably manage some volume just fine. "Get this ship moving." the words waited on his lips as he searched for the woman who had so disturbed him earlier. If they were really going to do this, he supposed they might as well do it properly. And if she tried to stab him in the back, he would just have to show her how much a shotgun blast could hurt when he wanted it to...

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

I know how you feel. let's see if this works, eh?

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

Octavius wasn't sure what was going on at this point. He found himself with two empty bottles, sitting on the prow of his ship, and he had little recollection of why he was there, or how he had gotten there. He knew how to get down, though. He dropped both bottles behind him, figuring they might be useful if they survived the fall, and then he let his left arm explode, turning into the monstrous head and endless neck of his beastial form. The toothy maw of the beast latched on to the side of the vessel and then, with some concentration, the pirate flipped himself over and set himself down on his feet, but now he was standing at the bow of the ship, looking toward his cabin. His left arm returned just before he set off, and the warlord staggered his way toward his bedroom. It was late if the sky was to be believed, and he had decided it was time for bed. Unless someone had an objection, he had some sleeping to do. How anyone could object to his gloriousness, or his flawless plan, he had no idea, so he saw no problem with disappearing for a while. Something told him he should probably spend a good while there, all by himself, but he wasn't entirely sure why. He stuck with keeping it simple. Get to bed.

It was a feat easier said than done. It didn't stop him trying, though. Drunk, frustrated, and confused, he got most of the way there, and then forgot why he was going to his quarters. He rounded on a sailor he had recruited, the unfortunate man having been caught wandering around for some harmless reason. "What's going on?" the captain asked in a whisper. The man was confused, but it took him but an instant to realize what was going on.

"You told me to check on you, skip. Said to remind you that we've got to be up early tomorrow." he informed the captain, figuring it was worth a shot.

"Good work, then." Captain Cuttlam replied with a grin. Then he returned to his original course, heading to bed with a little more drive now that he remembered a little of the actual plan. Octavius wondered how he was going to get anything done, staggering around like this, and then remembered how much alcohol he had consumed, and wondered if he might be sober in the morning. Thoughts overwhelmed him as he fell into his hammock, and the warlord gave up, passing out from all the strain on his drunk mind. Things would surely be simpler when he woke up. Whenever that was. For the moment, he had two bottles of rum to sleep off...

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

no worries, you're not yelling at me, so I'm good :P

Seeking a Samsquanch

Greetings various peoples. As the title says, I'm looking for a very particular kind of person. The kind of person I can get along with. Not that I have a problem with getting along with people. But most of you don't get my sense of humour, or don't appreciate the variety of meanings that can be conveyed with the word "fuck". So you might as well fuck off if you can't handle swearing, or deal with sarcasm and dry humour, and gifs of Jennifer Carpenter (Yum!).

anyway, now that the weirdos have been scared off, I have a couple of ideas, but because fuck you, I'm not going to post them. if you like medieval fantasy or dieselpunk or both. I've got some ideas for ya. If you have your own ideas, I like medieval fantasy stuff, and science fiction stuff, but I'm not a fan of modern stuff. that being said, it's fairly easy to convince me to try things I haven't tried before if you're polite, and/or swear a lot.

What am I missing? Post quality and quantity! I can promise you a post a day on days I'm free, and a couple good paragraphs at that. If you can't manage that, we're probably going to wind up with some issues. if you're good, I'll reply more, and if the Army sends me off to do important shit, I might not come back for a while without warning. warnings usually go in my Sig when I get them, so pay some fucking attention to detail or I swear to fuck, Ricky...

Fucking PM me if you actually want to rp. the likelihood of my checking this fucking thing is low.

sweet

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

Octavius burst through a door, and realized that in the haze and confusion, he'd kicked the wrong one open. It was too late now, though, he was already on deck. Ceres seemed to spot him immediately, and she said something about a rematch. There could be no rematch. He'd lost, in front of people. He didn't notice any disappointment or disrespect coming from those still up and about, but he assumed they were hiding it for his benefit. She said something about him being at his best. If only she knew. At his best, he would have drank her into the ocean. Now he was not even half the pirate lord he used to be, and that was becoming clearer and clearer each day. The warlord fled to the bow without a word, storming ferociously, with his liquor in tow. When he got there, he climbed into the once-proud mermaid carved into the point furthest forward on the ship. Her left hand was extended upward, probably to hold a lantern, though there was none to be found, and he was pretty sure her right hand held a sword once. But just like him, she was a shadow of her former self, and the captain settled himself on her head, figuring he might as well act like the figuratively drowning man he felt like. To her benefit, he didn't have cleats on, like a fisherman would. Regardless, he was determined to find something to pull him back to the surface. If he could sink the Powder Keg and put his crew back together, maybe the shattered pieces of his golden age could be temporarily reassembled, just long enough for him to find a treasure worth dying over.

For now, he sat and drank heavily from the bottles he had brought with him, looking out over the dark water, and wondering what would happen if he pushed Ceres overboard. He knew he couldn't afford to, but what if he did? Could she just turn into water, and flow back onto the ship? Would she drown like the rest of them? He couldn't tell, but he wasn't sure it mattered. "You're killing me, Ceres..." he muttered, wondering what he would do without the woman, and how in all the various planes of existence he was going to live with her. Even trying to think those thoughts had him emptying his first bottle faster than he liked. His hangover was gone now, and the world swayed pleasantly as he reached for the second bottle he had brought along. Probably too much for him to handle at this point, but Captain Cuttlam was beyond caring. The only way to get better was to push the limit. He had to show his first mate that he really was worthy of being called a pirate lord. He had earned it once, he would earn it again. He just needed more liquor, and a town to raze and plunder...