"Barnacled balls!"
Titus put down the letter from Cake, having spent some considerable time working out the message it contained. He didn’t know what to make of recent developments. Just days ago, he’d been marooned with three strangers on a desolate, threatening stretch of sand. Now, they were a bloodied cohort in possession of a sleek ship and the start of a crew to sail it. Titus was impressed by how well they’d worked together as a team, even as their lives hung in the balance, even in the face of ancient, wicked evil. He saw real promise of a lucrative partnership to come.
He turned his attention to Cake’s letter once again:
My fine and honorable barbarian. Our first order of business must be for us to choose a captain from amongst we four survivors. I trust no others on the boat. I have beseeched my gods for assistance, and they have given me the spell of "Zone of Truth" which we can use to determine the loyalties of those aboard. I also have gained the use of "Hold Person" for those who would betray us.
The four of us should write Ship's Articles and establish our pirate code that includes distribution of shares. Those aboard who sign on can join us. Those who do not wish to sign on shall be dropped off at the nearest harbor.
O most swarthy and muscular Titus, I believe you would make an ideal Master-at-Arms for our crew. I implore you to begin running drills immediately, training the crew to put out fires, repel boarders, and execute battle maneuvers. We require Marines to form a boarding party and we must put our minds to the order of battle (ranged attacks, duty stations, and responsibilities).
As for myself, I will establish the medical bay and prepare healing ointments. I shall also oversee the food supplies to make sure no poison or disease afflicts the crew. During battle I may be of use by causing a "Gust of Wind" to help maneuver or a "Fog Cloud" to hide said maneuvers. I am proficient in a number of ranged attacks and can use my holy “Thunderwave” to repel our foes.
As to the leadership of the vessel… I believe the rescued and unruly slaves would follow a strong, handsome and large fellow like yourself. Such an important task cannot be trusted to a foolish sea elf unfamiliar with how to run a fighting vessel who is likely to simply dive overboard and return home at the slightest sign of danger. I would gladly cast my lot in your favor.
If you are uncertain as to a course of action, I should tell you I have contacts among the spice traders of the Reach and know hidden secrets of the cocoa plant which may bring us great riches. If captaincy is not your desire, then I would reluctantly accept your nomination. Truly, I am the only one practiced in the art of sail and also I could make you very rich! The choice is yours. I will follow your lead.
“Suffering syphilis!”
Titus could see that storm clouds were already gathering, threatening their nascent partnership.
Cake, understandably, took some issue with the sea elves, Chaser and Teach. They were sea elves after all: strangers to this land above the rolling waves. Cake didn’t approve of one of them aspiring to be their captain.
Instinctively, Titus respected Cake, saw him as very much like the druids of his youth. Those druids, like Cake, navigated the hidden ways of the higher beings and knew the secrets of herbs and healing magic. And truth be told, those druids would hold a sickle to a man’s throat, on occasion, and then bleed him out for some greater purpose that Titus couldn’t comprehend. Titus felt the kind of deference to Cake that a civilized religious man would to a priest.
“Never fuck with a druid," Titus muttered to himself knowingly.
He had seen Cake’s work with that Tumi knife of his, the only possession the holy man had managed to save from their shipwreck. Cake had a way with it that was bloody lethal. And to top it off, Cake seemed to be one of those lucky few who had a nose for sussing out treasure. Titus liked treasure. A man like that was a man worth calling your mate.
“By the dongs of the dead!” Titus said to no one. He was powerfully conflicted.
Teach had a way about him, a charisma, a je ne sais quoi that Titus found compelling. As strangers, Teach had made a point of playing his instrument to help Titus, of finding a tune pleasing to him. Deep in Captain Pox’s mine, when Titus had taken the full brunt of Teach’s thunderous power cord, he knew the sea elf was no joke.
Why, he had even seen Teach thrust a dagger through a man’s throat and then mock him to death! Teach called that “metal.” Titus had never heard the term before, but he had an instinctive understanding of the deeper meaning behind the word. Metal.
Titus felt like events were riding on a swift current out of his control and that “Captain Teach and First Mate Chaser” had a certain inevitable ring to it. The elves came straight out of a story book: Teach, unmistakable as a tropical fish, with the outlandishly dressed and gregarious Chaser at his side, wielding his vicious whip. Add in the hulking half-orc and the squat menacing Obari to the mix and “Captain Teach and his Motley Crew” made quite the formidable bunch. Not to mention Fuckin’ Manny, that damnable beach halfling.
“Mark my words, Cake,” Titus huffed to the empty cabin, “No good will come of infighting. We need a code to follow, you’re dead right there.
“Whoever’s our captain needs to be treated a king by the crew, but you and I bow to neither man nor elf. Back on shore, a vote of no confidence from a partner with a principal stake, with a second to back ‘em, needs to be answered. We have a way in our world... to fix a thing that needs fixing.”